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Bruce doesn’t do Halloween.
For one thing, it feels weird to celebrate it when he’s one of the monsters kids dress up as. For another, the loud music and dancing sweaty bodies are an affront to his senses. But Jen insisted that he come to the freaks’ bar, a “proper werewolf night out” on the night before Halloween.
Jen is currently up on the dance floor doing drunk karaoke. She’s dressed as the all-in-pink protagonist of Legally Blonde, complete with a stuffed Chihuahua. Bruce’s therapist, Wong, is singing beside her. As if the night couldn’t get any weirder.
Bruce follows his instincts at any gathering he doesn’t want to be at – he heads for the snack table. He passes a witch with long red hair in a devil costume and her undead boyfriend dressed as a Mexican wrestler, apologises to a demon in a robot suit, and finally sequesters himself next to the salad table.
For most werewolves, the full moon is a monthly celebration. The Walters family cook up a ton of meat, and when they shift they have a feast. Bruce used to participate, until last year’s accident. Now, he dreads the change. He can already feel it starting within him: the urge to hunt, to howl, to run on wet grass with the dark fresh air in his lungs.
When he reaches for the carrot sticks, the smell turns his stomach. This is the one night of the moon cycle he struggles with being a vegan. His hypersensitive nose is overwhelmed with the mess of bodies and food, and the pulsing lights of the dance floor burn his eyes. He should have stayed home, like always. Should already be locked in the basement, waiting for the stretch and creak of his bones elongating, breaking and mending and breaking and –
Bruce’s heart is pounding so hard he can feel his pulse in his throat. He stumbles over to the quietest corner of the bar and mouths to the bartender for a glass of water, then he slumps down at the table in the corner, hands over his eyes. Why the hell did he let Jen talk him into this?
‘Are you okay?’
Bruce jumps. A man is sat opposite him. He’s tall, with grey-streaked hair and a neat goatee… and piercing red eyes.
He has no scent. Vampire.
Instinctive fear rises up in him. He pushes it down. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your heart is pounding. I could hear it from across the room.’ He glances down at Bruce’s clenched hands and smiles. It makes his fangs peek out from under his top lip. ‘I’m not looking for a snack, by the way. I’m a surgeon. I know what tachycardia sounds like.’ He leans back in his chair and studies Bruce’s half-hearted attempt at a Halloween costume: the bowtie, braces and tweed jacket of Matt Smith in Doctor Who. ‘You look like you want to be here even less than I do.’
Bruce barks out a laugh, then winces. ‘Full moon tomorrow night. It doesn’t really agree with me.’ He eyes the vampire thoughtfully. ‘You’re a surgeon?’
‘I used to be a neurosurgeon. These days I specialist in the supernatural.’ He looks away, taking a sip from his own cup. ‘I was in a car accident a few years back… it’s a long story. I found a vampire counsellor.’
Bruce follows his gaze over to Wong, who has joined Jen for an enthusiastic rendition of Can’t Fight the Moonlight. ‘He helped me out too.’ Reassured, he turns back. ‘I’m Bruce, by the way.’
‘Stephen.’ He holds out a hand.
Bruce takes it. It’s like shaking hands with a marble statue. Stephen is wearing a checkered frock coat with a magnifying glass sticking out of the breast pocket. A deerstalker hat sits on the table beside him. ‘Sherlock Holmes?’
He grimaces. ‘Lost a bet with Wong. Don’t ask.’
They sip their drinks in companionable silence. Bruce feels a little more anchored, and able to watch the proceedings around them with more detachment. Tomorrow night will suck, but tonight isn’t terrible.
‘So, Bruce. If you’ll pardon the pun, what do you do for a living?’
Bruce grins. ‘I’m a physicist. I also specialise in biochemistry and supernatural biology. At the moment I’m studying the effect of gamma radiation on ghost particles.’
‘Wait.’ Stephen puts down his drink and leans forward, studying him. ‘Are you Bruce Banner? You’re kidding me. Your work on banshee neurogenesis revolutionised my whole approach to non-corporeal surgery!’
‘It’s still a very new field.’ He can feel himself blushing now. Smooth, Banner. ‘Werewolves are immune to most things, so I’m able to study a lot of things up close that others can’t.’
He chuckles. ‘I can imagine. So what can you tell me about ghost particles?’
Bruce considers his new acquaintance. ‘Do you want the short answer, or the long answer?’
‘How long are we talking?’ Stephen grins, and his fangs flash red in the disco lights. It’s strangely hot. ‘Let me get you a drink.’
An hour later, they’ve yet to run out of things to talk about. Their fields have significant overlap, and Stephen is well-informed on many subjects. They share a passion for making a difference in their respective fields.
Bruce doesn’t tell many people his secret, but he finds himself telling Stephen about the accident. He’d been working on a cure for lycanthropy (not everyone who gets bitten wants to howl at the moon) and had been so sure of his concoction that he’d tested it on himself.
‘Most werewolves remain cognisant when they change,’ he explains, raising his voice over Duran Duran’s Hungry Like The Wolf. ‘But since then, I don’t have any memory of what happens when I turn. It’s like I have a whole other personality that comes out when I change.’ A big brown wolf with bright green eyes. ‘My cousin calls him the Hulk. I have to lock myself in the basement so I don’t chew on the wallpaper.’
Stephen scratches his chin. Their chairs have been slowly edging closer together. ‘Maybe he’s cranky you don’t let him out more often.’
‘Yeah, that’s what Wong says too. But Wong doesn’t have to deal with my aunt when Hulk shits in her flowerbed.’ He glances over. Jen is still on the dance floor. Must be the pre-moon werewolf stamina.
Stephen’s elbow bumps gently against his. ‘I can’t go out in the day so I don’t meet too many people these days. But this?’ They’re sitting so close now that Bruce can feel his cool breath. His rapid heart rate must be deafening. ‘This is nice.’
‘Yeah, it is,’ he agrees hoarsely.
Stephen says something else, but the DJ chooses that moment to start hyping up the crowd. To Bruce’s sensitive hearing, it’s deafening.
‘What did you say?’ Bruce shouts.
Stephen opens his mouth to yell, but then he shakes his head with a smile. Instead, he stands up and heads for the door, and looks to Bruce to follow him.
It’s a good thing Bruce doesn’t have a tail, because he knows it would be wagging right now. He follows him past the dance floor and out the door. The cool dark air is a welcome relief from the pounding bass, and for a moment he simply stands there adjusting to the silence.
‘Before I was so rudely interrupted…’ Stephen steps closer. ‘I think you’re really cute and I want to give you my number.’
Bruce smiles and takes out his phone. ‘Trade you?’
They swap numbers. When Bruce gets his phone back, he sees that Stephen has added himself with a vampire emoji next to his name.
‘Shit, is it dawn already?’ Stephen squints at the horizon, where yellow rays are beginning to peak through the trees. The plastic pumpkins and paper chains are now damp with rain. ‘I’d better go. Sorry. Sunburn’s a bitch when you’re a vampire.’
‘I get it. Don’t worry.’ Even so, he’s sorry to see Stephen go, but he knows already that tonight won’t be the last time they meet.
They stare at each other for a long moment, one holding his breath, the other not needing to breathe. There’s no hiding the pounding of Bruce’s heart, so he closes the gap between them and pulls Stephen in for a kiss. His lips are cold, but they part cautiously against his, and he sighs when Bruce reaches up to stroke his cheek.
‘See you soon,’ Bruce murmurs.
Stephen smiles. ‘I look forward to it.’
It happens in a flash. One second, Stephen is looking at him fondly, the sun reflecting in his red eyes, and the next, Bruce is standing alone with a cold kiss fading on his lips.
The door opens behind him, carrying an echo of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. ‘Bruuce! You’re missing the last big dance!’ Jen slings an arm around his shoulders. She smells of wine. ‘I got carried away with the karaoke. Are you okay? I kinda left you alone back there. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m fine, Fuzzball,’ he assures her. ‘You ready for me to drive us home?’
She smiles guiltily. ‘Last dance?’
‘Last dance,’ he agrees. Maybe he’ll even join in.
‘They should have more parties the night before full moon. I have so much energy, but god I’m so hairy. Everything itches.’
As they pass the doorway, Bruce spares a final glance to the dawn sky. Where do you take a vampire on a date?
Jen stops beside him. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ He shakes his head. Something tells him that his next transformation won’t be quite so bad; maybe Hulk just needs a little more love and care. ‘Happy Halloween, Jen.’
She beams. ‘Merry Spookmas.’
On the dance floor, Thriller rolls into its chorus and everyone crams in to dance. Bruce lets Jen take his hand and drag him over, and they join the mass of strange folk who come here to fit in for one night. For once, Halloween feels like home.