Monsters stirred on Devil’s Night. The ivory white of the full moon shone on tombstones as plentiful as pumpkins in a pumpkin patch. The monstrous roar of the Jackal signaled it found its victim for breeding. Bent over the ancient gravestone, Vampire Drusilla moaned her pleasure song. Her lavender dress, clawed away. Her raven hair, wrenched back by the fistful. Tonguing the points of her fangs, Drusilla’s bountiful breas...