Kathy lost no time in making her way to the bar, hips swaying with each step. At this point in the evening, it was more thanks to her ridiculous shoes, but later on she had every intention of drawing eyes. First, though, she needed a drink.

Or rather, several.

"Hi," she said, sliding onto a bench with more grace than was strictly human. "Can I get...nine shots of tequila, please?"

One for every month she'd been dead.