Chapter Text
Jonathan clung to the back wall of the club, his eyes following the mass of bodies swaying and grinding on the dancefloor. He watched a tall, gaunt man with his arm wrapped around the waist of a woman who couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old. But as the couple spun to the music, Jonathan caught a glimpse of the woman’s eyes, icy blue and without pupils like those of her partner. He relaxed slightly, tearing his gaze away from the pair. He had to learn that he couldn’t necessarily trust his own perceptions in this place.
He shifted along the wall toward a grouping of secluded booths, not daring to claim one for himself. Each table had at least two people seated at it, if not more. There was a pair of women with long, glossy black hair sharing a booth with three young, malnourished men. The men were slumped over, seemingly drifting in and out of consciousness. One had a bit of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a bloody bite mark peeking out from beneath his collar.
At another table sat a small man flanked by two tall, muscular women. They were deep in conversation, the man waving his hands excitedly as he chattered to his companions. All three of them had gleaming white skin marbled with pale veins, and when the man smiled Jonathan could make out the glint of fangs.
The third booth was occupied by two women kissing each other furiously, the sound of snarls and heavy breathing impossible to ignore even as Jonathan looked away. His fingers trembled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring down at his feet. He felt itchy, clammy, uncomfortable in this space around these people. But he needed cash, and he needed a fix, and at this point he was willing to try just about anything if he thought it would move him toward either of those goals.
Jonathan felt something brush against his shoulder and he flinched hard, turning to see a man reaching for him. The small man, from the table with the tall women. He was looking expectantly up at Jonathan, emerald eyes glistening in the multicolored lights.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said smoothly, trailing a fingertip down Jonathan’s arm.
Jonathan looked at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I wouldn’t say no to a drink,” he replied stiffly. He must have looked ridiculous, with his nervous eyes and shaking hands and awkward, crooked figure, because the man chuckled lightly at him.
“Come sit with us,” he coaxed, gesturing toward the booth. “We don’t bite,” he joked.
Jonathan did not find this funny, but he followed the other man back to the table nonetheless. He sat across from the two women, nodding curtly at them as the man slid into the seat beside him. Jonathan realized he had, like an idiot, allowed himself to be caged in against the wall.
One of the women flagged down a waiter and a human hurried over to their table, leaning in to hear them over the music.
“Whatcha having?” the blonde woman asked.
“On us,” her brunette companion added. They were both peering curiously at Jonathan, the blonde twirling her long hair absently around her index finger.
“Old fashioned,” he answered automatically, glancing up at the waiter. They nodded, stopping at another table on their way to the bar.
“So,” the man purred, invading Jonathan’s personal space to inspect him up close. “What brings you to a place like this?”
“I’m just… looking for a good time,” he said in an attempt to be suggestive.
“And what exactly is your idea of a good time?”
Jonathan could feel all three sets of eyes on him but his own gaze was glued to the pointed face grinning up at him, green eyes wide with interest. Before Jonathan could manage to gather an answer, the waiter reappeared with his drink and set it down in front of him with a square paper napkin. He immediately picked it up and filled his mouth with liquor in order to put a hold on the conversation.
The man continued to watch him as he downed the rest of his drink, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “I’m still waiting for an answer to my question,” he said as the brown liquid drained out of the glass.
“Boss likes questions,” the brunette piped up.
“Better have some answers,” the blonde said with a grin.
Jonathan stared into the bottom of his empty glass. “I just like to get high,” he admitted after a while. “And I heard… that might be of interest to the clientele here.”
“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting a little buzz myself.” He leaned back in his seat, gesturing toward the girls. “What’s your poison?” he asked Jonathan as the pair produced a black leather bag from beneath the table. The brunette began to rummage around inside, and Jonathan caught a glimpse of an orange pill bottle, a handful of plastic bags.
“Whatever I can get my hands on.” He felt his fingers twitching as he watched one of the women produce a baggie of brown powder, the other retrieving a bag of white powder.
“Interested in sampling the house blend?” the man asked, tilting his head toward the women. “I usually enjoy an upper and a downer.”
“That’s fine.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “But not here.”
“Not here?” Jonathan asked, feeling a spike of anxiety at the prospect of being taken somewhere by these people. If he could even think of them as people.
“I prefer a more intimate setting,” he explained. “Especially when playing with matters of the mind.”
Jonathan didn’t know if he would categorize getting high off tainted blood as a “matter of the mind”, but he felt himself nodding in agreement before his better judgment could catch up with him. “Okay,” he said, the word feeling foreign in his mouth. “Let’s go.”
The man smiled, fangs slick and shining. “Lovely. Girls,” he said, turning to address his companions, “why don’t you do me a favor and take care of our tab while I escort our new friend back to the lair.”
“You got it boss,” the brunette said, flashing a thumbs up at him as she and her partner slid out of the booth and made their way over to the bar.
The man stood, outstretching a hand to Jonathan to help him out of his seat. Jonathan accepted it, rising to his full height which was several inches taller than that of the other man. Somehow, Jonathan still felt small in his presence.
“I didn’t get your name,” the man said sweetly, sweeping his thumb over the back of Jonathan’s palm.
“Jonathan,” he said, not bothering to think of the implications of a creature like this knowing his name.
“I’m Edward,” he replied, giving Jonathan’s hand a small squeeze. “I believe,” he began, eyes glinting with something like excitement, “that we are going to have a delightful time together.”