By Bee Whalen

By Jacqueline Brace She was already 4 drinks and 2.5 mystery pills in by the time she stumbled up to Club Nosfra2. Her party had called it a night about 40 minutes earlier, but her artificially uninhibited brain was hankering for some midnight mischief. She must have gotten one of the good pills in the mix she’d fished out of her friend’s ex-girlfriend’s FWB’s Monster High handbag, because the mountain of a bouncer guarding the door had massive stone wings folded behind him.

By Zeno Park and Charlie Palmer Every college town has that one mysterious figure you only see after 2 a.m.: South Bend has that leprechaun, Columbus has some coked up homeless guy probably, and Ann Arbor has Dragula. But unlike those other freaks, she isn’t hiding in crypts. Instead, she’s haunting the karaoke bar. She’s been slaying (literally and metaphorically) since the 1400s, when she traded her coffin for a closet full of sequins and started working the midnight shif