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“Are you absolutely sure about this?” I asked looking pointedly at Quinn.
“Of course I’m ‘absolutely sure’. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think we’d get in.” This was Layne. They were touching up their make-up and mussing their hair in the small bathroom mirror at Half House. The place had been empty for weeks, which is exactly why we decided to meet there to change after staggering our perfectly legitimate exits from Sun Estate.
“Thanks, but I was, you know, asking the prophet.”
Quinn glanced at me distractedly. He’d been utterly transfixed with the eyeliner Layne applied. I didn’t blame him. He looked…really fucking hot right now with carefully constructed bedhead, a bright floral v-neck (also Layne’s doing; Quinn wanted to wear one of his ratty concert tees, but Layne put their foot down) and fitted black corduroys.
“The times when we get caught, we usually just get grounded.”
“Usually?”
“Well, sure, sometimes Rune has the Garda out looking for us and those times everything’s a lot worse. But for some reason Layne’s always wearing red lipstick when that happens, and their lipstick is black so I think we’re ok.”
“I can change it up for you, Max. You’re the one who said you needed some excitement,” Layne teased.
“Not that kind of excitement!” I shouted back, “I was more thinking drinks and dancing.”
Layne laughed, not unkindly. “Oh, there’ll be plenty of that.”
They were right, though. I was the one who had asked for a night out away from the parental types, and it was silly that I was also the one having second thoughts. But I’d never done this before like Layne, and I couldn’t see the fucking future like Quinn so sue me for needing some extra reassurance.
When I’d first brought up the idea to Layne, they’d looked at me suspiciously. I think they thought it was a trap since we never talked that much and the last time they’d sneaked out things had gone south. Like, kidnapping and near-fatal wounds south. It’s true Quinn and I were closer to Anna, but it wasn’t like I had anything against Layne. They just weren’t at Magnus with us “yet”, as Rune always said. I doubted he’d ever convince Layne to enroll, but I think he was trying extra hard to prove Anna wasn’t his favorite. Which is ridiculous, frankly, because obviously I was his favorite. Anyway, it took me a few minutes to convince Layne I was on the level before they flashed a mischievous grin and confided:
“Wellll, this crew I used to run with is throwing an Atlantean Drag Ball Friday. A bunch of scions and principalities flashing their aspects in all these crazy performing categories. We’re technically too young to get in, but I know all their regular bouncers so I could probably get us around that.”
It was pretty easy to get Quinn on board. He loves people watching, and I guess this was just a really structured form of that. So next thing I knew we three were holed up in a bathroom barely big enough for one so Layne could “make sure you won’t embarrass me”. They were pretty pleased with my white and gold waistcoat, black leggings, and thigh high boots so for the last hour I stayed perched on the toilet Brand once tried to drown me in wondering if we were making a huge mistake while Layne fussed over Quinn. I didn’t really think Quinn needed that much fussing. He was effortlessly cool and made everything he wore seem intentional in a sort of grunge dork way. But I couldn’t argue with the results. When he finally turned around with a nervous “what do you think, Max?” it took me too many seconds to form words. This was getting to be a problem.
The ball was being held in a warehouse near but not on the Green Docks, which Layne had been particularly insistent we remember “in case we get caught”. I started towards the line out front, but they steered me instead to a small door in a side alley containing a cute redhead in leopard print and kitten heels. Everything about her, from the huge fangs to the two inch black claws, screamed “were” and I moved to touch my cameo, but Quinn grabbed my hand while Layne approached.
“No. No no no noo,” she was saying, “Not tonight Kevin Layne Dawncreek.”
“Come on Cheryl! You’ve never turned me away before. You know I won’t cause any trouble. I just want to watch the show and impress my new brothers!” I thought they were laying it on a little thick but Apparently Cheryl wavered. I could see her claws retract a half inch. Quinn squeezed my hand and I took my first breath since reaching this wrecked place.
“Look, kid, before you weren’t sworn to The Fucking Sun. I don’t need that kinda heat. I got delicate skin okay.” She did, too. Pale with a smattering of light brown freckles over her nose and down her muscular arms. Quinn elbowed me and I shook myself out of it and blushed, refusing to look at him. It was awkward because, like, I got the sense he never had moments like that. Like, he had super-Atlantean self-control or I had super-fae lack of it. And he always knew when I was thinking about sex because he knew fucking everything and I was torn between wanting to hide and wanting to punch him, but before I could make up my mind Cheryl waved us through. I still have no idea what Layne said to convince her, but she winked at me as Quinn dragged me by her through the door, and it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Inside, the warehouse was split by cheap partitions into several different “rooms”. The rooms were spelled soundproof so the people on the ‘80s dancefloor didn’t have to worry about the Irish line-dancers next door. The place was packed with fascinating creatures. I noticed a ton of weres, cats and dogs their differences apparently put aside for a night on the town, so I suspected one of the Beast Throne’s houses must have been footing the bill for this soiree. But there were scions, principalities, merpeople, fae, pixies, leprechauns, dead, undead all dressed to the nines in their sluttiest or most glamorous (or both) costumes. Layne disappeared while Quinn and I were taking it all in and returned some minutes later with drinks, cheap American beers for us and a rootbeer in a glass bottle for Quinn, the little scamp. All were unopened because we’ve been trained well so I popped the caps with my keychain bottle opener and took a long swallow.
We hopped from room to room for a while, dancing and laughing and chatting up interesting people. We had to hide a couple times for Layne to avoid old acquaintances from the Gallows and once when I saw a former Lovers scion ordering at the bar where we’d been in line. But we were having fun. Quinn and I were stuck together like glue, and neither of us let Layne get far. They, for their part, seemed thrilled to be our guide so they didn’t really try to ditch us. Soon I was feeling tipsy and loose and letting the music pull me wherever it wanted. As Quinn and I wrapped up a waltz in a room decked out like an eighteenth-century German palace with a full fucking orchestra taking up one corner, Layne waved us over to one of the doors.
“It’s time for the show!” they shouted excitedly over the music. More than a few vampires in period dress looked over disapprovingly, but Layne didn’t seem to care or even notice.
They led us to another packed room bisected by a well-lit runway. They were vibrating with anticipation. “This is the main stage!” they shouted over the noise of the throng. “All the big names are gonna be walking in here, regardless of category.” Apparently, there had been competitions going on around us all night. Layne even had a scepter topped with a flaming skull (like, literally emitting pink fire; the fucker kept burning me with it for weeks when they thought I wasn’t paying them enough attention) from some bubblegum goth room where they “vogued the house down.” But I’d been too wrapped up in conversation and dancing with Quinn and whoever caught his interest to even notice. This was really getting to be a problem.
The emcee for the main event was a human drag queen called Friend Etta. She was dressed like the guy on the Quaker Oats box but high femme and she must have been 8 feet tall in that wig and heels. In short, she didn’t look out of place at all among the Atlanteans. She opened with some crowd work, which was hilarious at first. She teased a were-dingo for how he was grinding on a were-lynx (“Honey, in the current climate you’re basically a Shakespeare character. Be careful cuz after you drink the poison I’m moving in on your man.”) She mocked a vamp’s attempt at contour and laid waste to a pre-wedding party where the only one sober enough to get the jokes was the DD who also looked like he was maybe one of the grooms, poor guy. It was all great fun until, “Hey, muscles, what’s your name?”
“Um…Max?”
“Hi there, Um Max. You here with someone?”
“I—uh, so…my bro—um” I stammered uselessly.
Quinn grabbed my hand, “Sometimes this is a date, but sometimes he’s not ready for that yet.”
“Ooo, isn’t that sweet. Young loooove,” she sighed, the evil fucki—“Who’s rooting for these lovebirds?” The audience broke out in laughter and applause and I wanted to sink into the fucking ground until I noticed—Quinn and Layne were applauding too. It was utterly humiliating, but I was also a little bit on Cloud 9. “You make this happen, Max Muscles,” she said sternly, “I’m living vicariously right now.”
I think I said something stupid like, “I’ll try, ma’am,” but I basically blacked out in shame and elation for a few minutes. The next thing I remember was the first performer walking out. She was large and dark skinned in a long velvet gown, but then she started lip syncing to an upbeat Britney medley and her Aspect flared and I swear to gods it was like Britney was there. With that giant fucking snake declaring herself a slave for me. I didn’t even know that was possible. Quinn leaned over and whispered, “Addam’s aspect is a medieval knight, and Atlantean culture predates medieval knights. I guess it makes sense if something recent informs the core of who you are.”
“That’s what tonight is all about! Freaks getting ffffreakay!!” Layne shouted. Layne was shouting a lot and I worried about what it was doing to our nascent bond.
Anyway, Britney 2 set the tone for the night. It was weird and sometimes uncomfortable and frankly just a fucking blast. There was a kind of schlubby guy whose aspect just gave you the feel of Old Hollywood Glamor. Like, I was seeing the world through Vaseline and benzos and while it lasted everything was shiny and everyone felt important. I’m pretty sure one girl’s aspect was just Bjork’s godsdamn swan dress? The performance was cool though, all avant garde and fluid with her own vocals without lyrics or instruments. I recognized a principality I kind of knew through Rune. LB, who’s been calling themself Smoke Monster ironically ever since this old show Lost aired, can turn into smoke and can even manifest organic stuff out of smoke if they have a good enough supply. They lit a bonfire on the runway and manifested a dozen pairs of disembodies arms with wood and bone percussion instruments while they floated over the fire conducting this rad piece with all these moving parts and dancing smoke phantoms. Layne was losing their shit, and it was kinda cool to get to watch them just worry-free for a bit just air-drumming with their scepter and a ceramic chopstick they must have stolen from someone’s hair.
When LB took their last bow, Etta stepped up with what I felt was a deeply disconcerting grin plastered on. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and Et Cetera, without further ado, let me present our closer for this evening. The act I know we’ve allll been waiting for. Give a warm Werehouse Welcome”—oooooh, “Werehouse”, well fuck that to The Devil’s own hell—“for Miss! Horny! Devilllllll!”
Etta disappeared in a puff of smoke, probably curtesy of LB, and the stage lights turned a dim red. A figure rose up from somewhere below the runway. She had the appearance of a woman in a red satin dress. A black scarf was tied around her head, and she was wearing a wide brimmed black straw hat that partially obscured her face. The biggest impression she gave off was “fangs”. In a world of red and black, her fangs gleamed silver against her dark lips and chin. As soon as she stopped ascending, the roaring crowd went silent. For the duration of a wink you could hear a ghost speak. And then her aspect sprang to life. I felt high and fucking giddy. Every breath of air against my exposed skin made me shiver, and I was painfully aware of my erection pressing against my leggings. I glanced over at Quinn and felt suddenly on fire. He was sporting his own tent in his cords, and I blushed and quickly glanced up only to be distracted by his smooth, full lips. But then I finally met his eyes. He looked so…uncomfortable. Lost. I rushed towards him and grabbed his hand. Which was a mistake because the contact almost made me pass out. I was vibrating with want, but I needed to focus. I needed to be there for him, for whatever he needed. Quinn gave me a small, uncertain smile and then a strange look. I blushed again. “What?”
“One time, when you took my hand, you came in your tights and ran to hide in the bathroom. You called Rune to come pick you up and he tried to comfort you rather than punishing you. But then Brand woke you up at 5 for windsprints.”
I stared at him for a beat, horrified. “Fuck off!” I laughed, and the spell was broken. I squeezed his hand and looked around. Things were getting a bit out of hand. Some people had already started stripping and licking and caressing while the lady on stage stared serenely into the distance. This showed no signs of stopping at PG-13, and I was the oldest so I was sure Rune would see Quinn and Layne as my responsibilities. Layne, for their part, was making out with a couple in superhero cosplay nearby. They looked like they could be around our age so maybe they sneaked in like us, but I didn’t want to risk it. I grabbed them by the ear and dragged them and Quinn toward the door. “Come on, kiddos. It’s our bed time.”
All the way to Sun Estate, I felt like I was floating. We laughed and joked with Layne, and they kept twirling their scepter and showing off their voguing. I never let go of Quinn’s hand once. We quietly slipped back into the estate (with a minimum of giggling, thank you very much) and reluctantly parted to head to our own rooms. I slipped in the door and closed it gently, resting my head against the frame and sighing happily. I hit the light and turned to get ready for be—
“AGH WHAT THE FUCK!”
Brand set aside his magazine and gazed up at me from his perch on the floor. “So. Where were youuu?”