It was now or never.
I tossed my coat over one arm, and giving it all I had, walked with my head up and the best roll in my gait I could summon. Strolling up to the first bouncer, I gave him a beaming smile that hopefully cried ‘I'm the best thing here tonight!’ He looked me over twice, obviously not impressed, but he nodded to his companion, and the door opened for me.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The assault on my senses began immediately. I'd thought the music was loud outside, but inside it was an overwhelming roar that vibrated through my skin and into my bones. Cigarette smoke thickened the air and mixed with the stench of alcohol being processed and sweated out of bodies. I looked around, desperately trying to get my bearings, but everywhere my eyes tried to focus, strobes and spinning colored lights flashed wildly.
My mind reeled. Heightened senses were a mixed blessing. Too much stimulation could trigger the fight-or-flight response of my cat. Disoriented, I fell, my back slamming against the brick wall. Burning pain ran along my spine. Fur slid roughly against the inside of my skin, promising reprieve.
No. Not here. I was in public. There were humans everywhere. The pain spread, the skin on my back peeling open.
Sweaty hands on my bare shoulders brought me back to myself. Shaking my head to clear it, I made out a pair of brown eyes inches from mine. Blinking, I managed to focus on the man's whole face but couldn't catch his words. His mouth kept moving, but all I heard was a dull roar. When his mouth stopped moving, he gave me a firm shake.
I squinted, concentrating. The point of focus helped me push my cat deeper inside, and I finally figured out he was asking if I was all right. I nodded wearily and pressed a hand over my eyes.
"Do you want to sit down?"
This time it was easier to pick out his voice. I nodded again, and he slid a hand around my waist before steering me to the back of the club. As we moved away from the entrance, and consequently, the dance floor, the lighting became steadier. Couches were tucked in a corner beyond massive machinery I couldn't guess the purpose of. The ancient industrial equipment muffled the sound a bit, and I gratefully collapsed onto a threadbare brown couch.
"Stay here, I'll be right back,” the guy said after depositing me on the couch.
I rubbed my eyes, and then slowly expanded my focus from the couches to the areas beyond. Not far from where I sat, stacks of liquor crates with sheets of plywood on top comprised the bar. Next to the makeshift bar, a couple of kegs sat in garbage cans filled with ice; one was already floating. The overhead lights were not attached to the building itself but to poles, with extension cords running like giant earthworms off the dance floor. Beyond the grinding bodies and flashing lights I couldn't make out the DJ's station, but I imagined it was constructed in equally haphazard style. Based on the set up, I appeared to be at a massive party, not a club, the location probably illegally acquired. Well, that might be best. A club would have a closing time, but a party could run until dawn, assuming the police didn't break it up.
"Here,” a male voice said beside me. “You need to eat something and drink some water.” He placed a glass and some chips and dip in front of me. “Are you feeling any better?"
I looked up, shocked that the man who helped me earlier had actually returned. I must have stared at him a few seconds too long, because his smile dropped for a moment before he recovered it. Finally I registered that I'd been asked a question and nodded. He gestured to the chips in a ‘Help yourself,’ kind of motion. My mouth watered just thinking about food. Right on cue, my stomach released a pitiful growl that I felt more than heard, and I obligingly loaded a chip with the creamy artichoke spinach dip.
"How much have you had to drink tonight?” He looked embarrassed. I guess there wasn't a polite way to ask someone if they were excessively drunk, but I think he tried.
"Nothing. The lights and music overwhelmed me."
"No chance you're epileptic, is there?"
I shook my head as I munched down more chips.
"Pretty hungry, aren't you?"
"I haven't eaten yet today.” And I couldn't remember if I had eaten the day before or if it had been the day before that, but I didn't tell him.
"It's after midnight, and you haven't eaten? No wonder you almost collapsed.” He shook his head and laughed. “I'm Bryant, Bryant McManus."
Swallowing a chip, I reluctantly accepted his outstretched hand. “I'm Kita."
"A great pleasure to meet you, Kita,” he said, and then catching me by surprise, pulled my hand to his lips.
When he lowered my hand, he didn't let go. I wanted to feel flattered. The heroine in the book I'd read earlier would have swooned, but all I really wanted to do was pull my hand away from his sweaty grasp. He must have been expecting some response I didn't give because, after an awkward moment, he released my hand and ran his fingers through his disheveled brown hair. I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans.
"You have the most unique eyes, Kita. They look almost yellow."
"Must be this light,” I said. “They're light green.” But in truth, in any light, they were too yellow to actually be green, another mark of what I was.
"So, since we've gotten some food in you, can I buy you a drink?"
"I was kind of planning on—"
"Come on. One drink, so we can get to know each other."
I hesitated. The party posed a great place to hide. No hunter would be able to process the sensory overload and single me out. But socializing wasn't one of my strengths. I glanced around. The place was packed, and the percentage of guys huge. If I blew off Bryant's advances, someone else would try to take his place. Forcing a smile, I nodded, and he hurried to the bar.
While he was gone, two other guys approached me, one to see if I wanted to dance and the other to offer me a drink. I declined both and almost felt relieved when Bryant returned. He handed me a plastic cup—definitely an illegal party.
We exchanged small talk. Well, in all honesty, he talked and I pretended to listen. As the sweet and sour in my drink started to lose its punch, a man in his late twenties walked up and leaned in close enough for me to smell the cheep beer on his breath.
"You lookin’ to roll tonight?” He obviously anticipated a positive answer. When I continued to stare at him blankly he bumped the bill of his cap back so I could see his eyes and added, “I have it cheaper but stronger than anyone else here. You know you want some."
Like I even knew what that meant. I shook my head and turned back to Bryant. Whatever the man had, he was selling, and I had exactly no money. The guy shot a glance at Bryant, who shook his head.
"McManus-man, you know where to find me if you change your mind,” he said, then stalked away.
"I used to do that stuff,” Bryant said after the man disappeared to bother someone else. “Crazy junk. You can literally feel colors, taste the music, and the slightest touch will put you over the edge.” He paused, clearly wondering if he should be sharing these particular thoughts.
"Sounds unusual,” I said to fill my part of the conversation. I didn't much care what he talked about. He was going to talk about something anyway, why not this?
"Yeah, very. For a long time it was lots of fun, but this one night, several months ago, some weird shit happened. I haven't used it since."
I plucked an ice cube out of my cup and popped it in my mouth. “What happened?"
"I went to an underground party with some friends, way bigger than this one. A big-name DJ was spinning, and we drove a couple states to get there. Of course we were all rolling, we did at every party, most the people there were on something. They say the full moon brings out the crazies. It certainly did that night. About the time the party was at its height and everyone was out on the floor, some guy totally wigged out.
"I'm still not sure exactly what happened, but he must have had knives or something, because a couple of people got pretty sliced up. The thing is, there was so much drug use, the violence triggered some sort of nightmarish hallucination. I was there, and I still can't tell you what the guy looked like. I thought I saw his bones jump out of his skin before he tore into the crowd. He was like a twisted demon."
The ice cube slid out of my mouth.
He chuckled. “Yeah, pretty wicked, huh?"
"But your friends, they saw a normal guy with weapons, right?"
"No, it was like a mass hallucination. They saw a monster too, but the details were a little different. So that was it, cold turkey, no more drugs for me."
"What did the uh ... monster look like? Did he look like an animal, you know, claws, fur, that kind of thing? Or um ... mechanical maybe?"
"You're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not. I'm interested in ... unexplainable events."
His posture turned rigid. “Oh, are you taking that paranormal research class at the university?” When I shook my head, he looked relieved and leaned closer. “They have a strange guy teaching that class, and when they got word I'd been at the party, one of his students pestered me for an interview. Girl bugged me for a week before finally realizing my No was how it was going to be. Creepy, what they can get away with teaching and call it ‘academics.’”
I tried to keep a patient expression on my face as he rambled on, but I was anxious to hear a description of the hallucination-monster. “So what did he look like? Was the guy caught?"
"Nope. He cut up one guy real bad, but there weren't any reliable witnesses."
"And he looked like..."
"What I saw was a thing with massive claws instead of hands, covered in fur, and a twisted body. His joints moved backwards. Weird.” He stood up. “I need another drink, how ‘bout you?"
Walking to the makeshift bar, Bryant effectively ended the conversation. From what he'd said, the “monster” sounded far too much like a shifter who stopped his change midway between forms. If a shifter had attacked humans in such a public way, hunters really would be everywhere and any shifter here illegally would be suspect. Maybe Bobby had left Firth to protect me.