Sucks to Suck – Chapter 11

The loud music caused Marion’s chest to vibrate with each deep bass note even as their group was still in the line to get in. She knew that to adapt to human society, there were times when one had to do things that weren’t exactly fitting with one’s preferences but she would still much rather go to a place like the Donjon than she would go to the Triskelion. The place was located downtown, as many nightclubs seemed to be, and downtown was a part of the city that she tried to avoid. She knew very little about the politics of her kin, but she had this idea that downtown was a hunting ground shared by all of the different families. That meant that she was most likely to run into one of her kin there, and that made her nervous. But she kept telling herself that the odds were astronomically low. In order to exist among humans and not call attention to themselves, their numbers weren’t great, and in a city of millions, she was unlikely to ever cross paths with another of her own. But the simple fact that the possibility was there was enough to make her shift from one knee to another as they waited in line inside the dark corridor leading into the club.

The Triskelion's exterior was just wood painted in matte black with a silver triple knot after which the club was named hovering over the art deco doors, and past them, everything was decorated with black and silver art deco wallpaper with patterns of straight edges. Ahead of them, on a corner lit by black light, a cashier sold entrances and stamped the arms of the clubbers going inside. Each step they took towards the table made the music louder.

“This place looks… Expensive,” Marion commented idly as she looked over Logan’s shoulder.

“Yeah, to be honest, it’s not my vibe, either but… Don’t worry, we are getting in for half price today.”

Logan had to speak louder to be heard over the music, but not properly shouting yet. Marion could hear her fine, of course, but she felt the blood wearing thin. She had some at home, but the dense smell of packed humans still made her hungry. She wondered if she could find someone to feed on; she knew clubs were one of the favourite spots for her kin, though, for her, it seldomly worked before. And then she remembered her most recent fiasco at the Donjon and her cheeks blushed.

Isabella, Alex and Sam were behind her, all dressed up to some degree. Marion was wearing black tight jeans and a hoodie, and she seldom wore anything else, but that time she eschewed the beaten down and worn-out oversized hoodie under Logan's insistence, and as the girl insisted, she wore something a bit more special for the outing. She had chosen a plain black one with silver tips on the strings and two orange eyes printed on the chest. When she first stepped out of the room with it, Logan had a bit of a frown of disappointment in her insistence on dressing down; until Marion pulled up the hoodie to show the pair of dark cat ears sewn into it. It was her most whimsical piece and she had no clue why she liked it that much, but she rarely used it, as she tried to stay under the radar. The sight of the cat ears immediately sold Logan on the look and saved Marion from having to talk her out of taking her shopping.

Isabella was wearing a black summer dress with laced sleeves and hem, over black and white socks that disappeared inside it, and her usual assortment of rings and bracelets had been joined by lace fingerless half-gloves. Sam had a leather jacket tossed over a fancy blouse and tight jeans for her own look, and her boyfriend, Alex, wore a large plain blue utility shirt with rolled-up sleeves over his dark band shirt and baggy jeans. But it was Logan that drew Marion’s eyes the most.

She was wearing a dark purple beret from which her pale pink hair cascaded out, and an immensely oversized white and red plaid shirt that she left open, exposing the tight black top she had underneath, which was tucked inside very short acid wash jean shorts. And her long legs were covered by stockings, really dark until the middle of her thighs, and then they became a little sheer, showing a hint of her skin underneath, but partially obfuscated by a pattern of hearts that wrapped around her thighs. Marion had to remind herself not to linger her gaze on her roommate’s legs; because it was inappropriate and might make her feel uncomfortable, of course, but also because Isabella had once caught her gaze there and smirked meaningfully to Marion, and she did not like what the girl seemed to be wordlessly implying.

“How comes?” Marion asked as they approached the cashier.

“What?” Logan asked.

“How comes we are paying half price?”

“Honestly?” Logan asked and then dramatically shrugged, before nodding to Isabella. “She swung the tickets.”

“Oh.”

Marion didn’t know what to say about that, but as they reached the cashier, Isabella handed them a printed piece of paper and pointed to the five of them; Marion, Logan, Sam, Alex and Isabella herself. The cashier nodded and indicated for them to approach, stamping each of their arms with the seal that was visible under the black light. When Marion stretched her arm, she had to focus. She still had enough blood in her that she wasn’t cold to the touch, but she was a little colder than a human should be. She actively focused on her heartbeat, willing it to beat faster and increasing her circulation towards her arm temporarily. Doing that always came with a slight tingle but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. As a result, the cashier didn’t think twice as she held Marion’s hand and stamped it. After that, a bouncer stood, checking each of their IDs. Marion refused to carry a purse, so she pulled it from the front pocket of her jeans, where she kept it loose – ‘like a psycho’, according to Logan – and the bouncer looked into the ID card and then back to Marion. She knew her face looked a bit youthful for the claimed age of 22, but that was, to the best of her recollection, the age she had been turned. She just had to have one of those faces, she guessed.

The bouncer said nothing though, returning the ID to her. She looked at the picture and sighed as she pocketed the card back. She didn’t like how she looked on it, her expression was devoid of life, and her lips were slightly curved down in displeasure. She had to take the picture at home with her low-resolution phone and print it at an office supply store before taking it to the shady sixteen-year-old that made her fake ID. It was good enough to fool bouncers and most casual observers but probably wouldn’t stand up to police scrutiny. Most professional photography places might still have analogue photography in some part of the process, and that meant silver was involved. She and silver didn’t mix. So, she had to be happy with the grainy photo she was using, which was passable under dim light. Luckily for her, digital photography seemed to present no trouble with her image, which meant she didn’t have to worry too much about the multitude of camera phones that seemed to be omnipresent now.

They entered the depths of the Triskelion, past the small entrance line tunnel, and into the massive room with the crowded dancefloor in the centre. Immediately after the entrance, they found themselves in a U-shaped area, raised about three steps above the dancefloor. To either flank of it, there were booth-style seats and low tables, most of them occupied already by some clubgoers, and following the rest of the club’s pattern, everything was done in a very modern take on art deco aesthetics, with the liberal use of the copper colour and hard angles, but a touch of neon shining through the patterns on the metallic panels made it clear that that was a reimagining more than a recreation. The bar was located immediately to the right of the entrance, and to the left of it were the corridors leading to the bathrooms and a plain wall where a handful of clubgoers were leaning against, talking and, in the case of two in particular, making out.

“I just know a water bottle is going to cost five dollars in here,” Logan lamented as she touched her purse tight as if afraid her dollar bills would simply evaporate.

Marion thought to herself that at least if Logan bought a drink there, she would get to enjoy it. Marion might need to drop fifteen or twenty dollars on a glass of whisky just to keep appearances and not even get drunk. And that wasn’t the worst of all. The smell of human bodies in there was concentrated, thick as fog, and she felt the effects on her immediately. Her fangs didn’t push out, but they did throb against the inside of her jaw and the gums above her canines tingled in anticipation.

“So, cool, right?” Isabella said a little proud, coming close to the group so that they could all hear her.

“It’s pretty cool,” Sam agreed, passing her arm around Alex’s waist and pulling him close. “Dance?”

Marion shook her head instinctively, as her plan was to loom around the edges of the club and just watch. It was already a bad idea to be there, she didn’t need to make it worse by making a fool of herself, and if she was very lucky, and that was a long shot, she might have a chance to feed on someone. But most likely she would awkwardly strike out and then go back home with Logan. Unless Logan ended up with someone herself. And that last thought caused her stomach to feel weird and uncomfortable, but she decided to push it away. It was Logan's business what she did, of course.

“Oh no, no way,” Logan said.

“What?” Marion asked, turning to her.

Logan took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs leading to the dance floor.

“It was your idea to go out dancing! You are not dodging the dance!”

“D-dancing was a way of speaking…”

Marion’s protests were really for nought, as Logan was already pulling her into the dance floor and their group moved there like a pack. Marion looked with some despair at the mass of dancing bodies, trying not to anticipate how ridiculous she was about to look among them. The last time she had a remote grasp of what dancing in clubs was like, it was the height of disco, and she doubted any of that knowledge would translate there, considering how the song playing was and judging by what was written outside the club, Bass House.

Just as they reached the edge of the dance floor, one song seemed to be ending and another was fading in, and as the new beat started, Sam, Isabella and Logan seemed to exchange looks of excitement and approval. Marion was still pulled by her hand until they had formed a tight circle, facing each other. Isabella seemed to not have a drop of self-consciousness in her own body and she was immediately moving her shoulders and hips with the beat of the song, sliding them side to side and closing her eyes as her head grooved. Sam and Logan seemed to need a bit more of a warm-up, moving more timidly but quickly rising towards Isabella's energy. Marion stood there, perfectly still, feet planted on the ground and unsure of what to do with her arms. She felt that if she was allowed to smoke indoors, she would at least have something to do. Stupid arms.

Her only comfort was that Alex seemed almost as uncomfortable as her, moving his shoulders side to side but doing little else. The vampire decided to mimic him, at least that was better than staying still. And then she caught Logan’s eyes on her and she felt her cheeks blushing. She must've been thinking Marion was the weirdest weirdo that had ever graced the Earth, Marion was almost certain of it. And then Logan lifted her arms towards her and gestured for Marion to come closer. The girl stepped forth, tightening the circle almost to the point of cutting Alex out of it, and Logan took her by the wrists and moved Marion’s wrists as she danced. That forced Marion to put a bit more sway into her shoulders and she found herself naturally timing it with the music. And everyone else was also doing it, so it felt less strange than she expected. Logan smiled and let go of Marion’s wrists to touch her own hips, which by now were moving dramatically with the beat of the music.

Marion then closed her eyes and quietly chided herself. She had brought it upon herself, she might as well buy into it completely and endure. She began to rock her hips on what she felt would be the appropriate rhythm, and with her shoulders already moving, that was most of her body. And as she opened her eyes, she couldn’t say it felt natural to her, or easy, but finding Logan's look of approval, it felt something approximating ‘good’. And then she simply focused on the song, and each beat, and the rhythm that came with it. And slowly, like Sam and Logan, she began to rise to match Isabella’s energy, which wasn’t just Isabella’s energy but the energy of the crowd. When the song had a crescendo in pace, so did the crowd move faster, and as the beat built up anticipation, the tension was palpable until the subtle shift released it in another explosion of sound. And for once in a long time, Marion found herself communing with a group, joining their dancing black mass.

She lost track of time and the number of songs, but at some point, their circle broke out. Sam and Alex danced with each other in movements that involved a lot of grinding, and Isabella disappeared somewhere deeper into the mass of dancers as if she was being carried by a tide. So, Marion and Logan found themselves just dancing with each other. And Marion allowed herself to linger in that moment and the fluttering feelings that it brought, that strange tingle in her heart. Was it just fun? She was used to mimicking it during hunts but she couldn’t tell the last time she experienced it at the level that made her cheeks burn and her chest feel tight and light at the same time.

And then she caught a whiff of Logan’s scent in the air. Not her perfume, although the soft notes of lilac on it were delightful, but the smell of her skin. The girl had broken a bit of a sweat dancing, or the start of it, and in the whirling air of the club, a waft of it licked across Marion’s face. And her fangs immediately popped free. Her throat was dry, and her thirst was reaching a peak. Even though she had fed recently and her body was still warm and her skin still could flush, she felt an unexplained strong urge to feed. To feed on the girl in front of her.

Marion instinctively covered her mouth and walked out of the dance floor in a rush, going over the steps and heading towards the bar. Her tongue touched her fangs, and she shuddered slightly. The release always felt good but she couldn’t enjoy it when she had her heart racing. Was her mouth closed when it happened? Was she smiling? Oh, good grief, if she was smiling at Logan, she would’ve seen it. She caught a glimpse before but the Veil had shrouded it from her memory, but a second glimpse… Would it be enough to make her wonder? As Marion stood there covering her mouth, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was, the scent gave it away.

“Hey, Marion, you okay?” Logan asked.

Marion turned, hand still in front of her lips as she nodded.

“I am… I just… Bit my mouth.”

“Ouch,” Logan said sympathetically, “that sucks…”

Marion nodded.

“Is it hurting? Are you bleeding? Let me see…”

She reached out to touch Marion’s chin to guide her to lift her head and presumably open her mouth. That wrist was inches away from her teeth. Inches. All it would take was one rapid motion. Sink it there. It would hurt for a moment and then it wouldn’t. And then it would feel good, and Logan would enjoy it too. And they both would be locked in bliss and…

Marion pulled her head out, and the gesture probably felt abrupt and defensive. She expected Logan to be hurt by her sudden withdrawal but instead, she looked… Guilty? Concerned? Embarrassed?

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Marion, I shouldn’t touch you like that…”

That seemed like an overreaction to her withdrawing. It was not like Logan had punched her. But the girl still looked mortified, and Marion felt forced to comfort her.

“It’s… Fine… I just… I’m not bleeding.”

And then she focused her willpower on her jaw. It was uncomfortable to push them back like that while her heart, her core, still craved blood. But she managed to, and then she smiled, showing those human-like teeth and opened her mouth to put her tongue out and show the absence of blood. Logan’s look of guilt and shame seemed to lessen at that reassuring sight.

“You should go back to dancing… I think… I think I’m going to leave.”

“What? Marion, we literally just got here…”

“I know, it’s just… I don’t know why I wanted to come. Clearly you guys will have more fun without me.”

“What? No. No way.”

“I mean, Isabella and Sam are…”

“Look, you’re not into the big club scene… I’m not very much into it either, okay? We are in this together.”

“Then… Why did you suggest this place?”

“Well… Again, Isabella got the tickets, I wanted to go to a rock bar.”

Marion thought about the Donjon and how she much rather be there too and she nodded.

“I know a cool one, I think.”

“Cool! Next time we go out, we go there.”

“Not sure if it would be something Isabella and Sam would enjoy.”

“Well… I would. Maybe they don’t have to come.”

Marion blinked at that. Just the two of them. Her stomach fluttered again. And Logan looked at her with her face full of expectation. She had to say something? What? What did she have to say? She wished hard she knew the answer but instead, she just smiled and Logan seemed slightly disappointed. But while her smile diminished, it didn’t die out.

“We can just grab a drink and sit down… Unless you want to like…” Logan scratched her arm, nervously and she bit her lips, which looked exceedingly cute with her snake bite piercings. “…You know, see if you meet someone.”

That was a strange way to put things, Marion thought. And she swallowed dry, thinking about her fang mishap. She had been very tempted to bite Logan, and maybe if she could feed, she could suppress that instinct. Maybe that was the secret to avoiding temptation, to keep herself topped off. And then she realized how ridiculous a proposition that was, she had never been able to hunt effectively and barely sustained herself for decades. How would she keep herself full around Logan?

“I… Uh… I’m really bad at that.”

“What?”

“The club thing. Meeting people. Like, real bad.”

“Bullshit,” Logan said, shaking her head.

“I’m telling you, I’m really bad at it.” Marion scratched the back of her head.

She felt an unexplainable sense of shame admitting that to Logan in particular. She wasn’t even confessing she was bad at something literally necessary to sustain her life, but she still felt pathetic in that admission. And then Isabella popped out, seemingly out of nowhere, glistening with sweat across her forehead and cheeks, and holding a glass of some white drink with a slice of citrus inside, halfway done.

“Oh, what are we talking about?”

Logan looked at Isabella, then at Marion, and she bit her lips for a second, but Marion jumped on so Logan didn’t have to come up with a cover story:

“I was telling Logan that I’m not good at the whole club scene.”

“Is this about your dancing?” Isabella asked point blank.

“Ouch,” Marion replied, genuinely offended for some reason, “no, but thanks.”

“Marion was telling me she has no game,” Logan said after a moment.

“I mean, you’re cute… Do girls need more game than that?” Isabella wondered, blinking.

“From experience, I’m going to say yes,” Marion offered.

Isabella looked at Logan, who looked back at her and for a moment they just exchanged facial expressions but no words. Marion frowned, confused about what they were communicating, especially as she could swear Isabelle tilted her head towards Marion. But Logan just turned away from the other girl and back to the vampire.

“You shouldn’t worry about that. You don’t have to make out with someone to have fun at the club,” Isabella said.

Logan seemed to react weirdly to that, and said, turning to Isabella:

“She could if she wanted to.”

“But… She doesn’t want to, does she?” Isabella asked Marion.

Marion was more confused than ever. Isabella's eyebrows now danced towards her and she wondered if there was a signal she was supposed to get. Was she trying to say something? And if so, what?

“I mean… It wouldn’t be the worse thing,” Marion finally said.

For some reason, Isabella seemed to grow exasperated at that. She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath and asked:

“Okay… And, uh, if it's not prying, would you be looking to get it on with a boy or a girl? Or either?”

That was a little forward, but Marion knew social norms had shifted across the years, and more and more that wasn’t a taboo question to ask. A woman of her apparent age was likely not to take issue with it, right?

“Uh… Either, I think?” Marion offered, uncertain.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Isabella for some reason looked again at Logan. “So, girls included?” she asked, turning back to Marion.

Marion was just growing impatient with the insistent questioning. She thought she had made that part of it clear, but with a shrug, she nodded.

“Yes, including girls.”

“I see,” Isabella said, and turned her head towards Logan once again, that time lingering there.

Logan looked at Isabella, lifted her shoulders into a shrug and then simply added:

“Isa, you know that’s not a problem with me.”

Isabella exploded:

“Oh my god!”

“What?” Logan and Marion asked at the same time.

“Nope. Nope. I can’t.” Isabella threw one hand in the air and the other she used to finish her drink. “I’m going to get a refill. You two are grown-ups, sort yourselves.”

And with that, she walked away back to the bar, leaving a very confused Marion behind, and a deep-flushed Logan. The pink-haired girl adjusted her beanie and walked a bit closer to Marion, turning to stand beside her facing the same way rather than in front of her:

“Hey, if this is crossing a line let me know but, like… If you want help, I have some game. I don’t work miracles though.”

“H-help?”

“I mean… Yeah, if you want.”

Marion blinked. Was this what Isabella was hinting at so much? That Logan should help Marion get together with someone? Well, she doubted that Logan knew much about hunting as a vampire. But then again, those books got some of it right and she seemed to be knowledgeable in them, so maybe she did know something? And even if she couldn’t help Marion hunt directly, was she really in a position to pass on pointers on how to approach someone like that? Seducing them was the first step in getting them alone and Logan didn’t have to know what she would do once they were alone. Yet that felt strange. Could she accept it? Should she? She kept Claire at arm’s length for a reason. She would never let Claire give her pointers on picking people up. But Logan was, Marion knew, very much not Claire.

What did she have to lose, anyway?

“Yeah… Okay. I’ll take the help.”

Logan smiled a bit bittersweetly and sighed. Marion inhaled her scent briefly. She feared what she’d do alone in the apartment with Logan if she didn’t quench her thirst somehow. Logan said finally:

“Alright. Let’s see what we can do for you.”