RUSH: A Vampire, A Witch, A Secret, A Rush. by Cassandra Webb Page A

the dense crowd before he can object. Beer... yuck! But it’ll slow my racing mind. Any drink will slow me down; hopefully enough to lower myself to these humans level and allow myself to be ‘picked up’. My stomach turns at the idea but the thrumming in my chest left by that crazy dream – well it’s exciting.
    I have to admit its conflicting living solely with humans. A part of me is detested by them, like they smell, and a part of me loves their world. Music and lights, dancing and, well the food could be better. They just don’t understand eating for sustenance like we do. And some of the guys are ok, but really what other option do I have?
    Long muscled legs attached to a perfectly chiselled body, leans against the industrial style railing that separates the dancers on the dance floor from the people bopping and swaying next to the bar. I look across at his dull red eyes. They’re alluring, like they hide secrets and mysterious. I guess they’re some kind of contact lens I guess. I can’t afford food and this guy’s got enough money to buy cosmetic dress up crap. Perhaps he’s vein enough to let me slip some of his cash out of his wallet.
    I smile and keep dancing.
    His fingers wrap around the top of my glass and yank it from my hand.
    “Here,” he says, “Something more to your taste?” And he holds out a glass.
    I sip his offering. Jim Beam and coke is much better than beer.
    “How did you know?” I ask, or rather shout. It’s so loud in here and we’re separated by a railing so getting closer isn’t an option – yet.
    “The look on your face” He smiles.
    In one smooth step he slips between the railing and joins me on the dance floor. Leaning in a little closer to me he matches my rhythm and begins to dance.
    The air changes, subtly, like someone has turned off the heat in here. It’s refreshing, but there’s something else too; a scent that I can’t quite put my finger on. Not an aftershave or some spray, but something about him. I take a deep breath and the nerves about my arms and back literally feel ready to explode. If it didn’t sound crazy I’d say I’m smelling danger.
    But that does sound crazy. Yeah he’s a good looking guy, all depth and tall-handsomeness, but he is only human – right? He can’t be a witch, because the magic on my hand prevents me from seeing my own kind, and there is no option three; Human, invisible, or this guy.

2

    A sharp shove to my back has me sprawling forwards. I turn in the same micro-second as I’m hit and face my attacker. Some girl, her hair spiked and in the background a guy with spiked hair is laughing. That beer really wasn’t worth it.
    “You try to steal my man?” The girl spits, flashing a tongue so full of metal it makes her talk with her own unique accent.
    “Me?” I say, and then I curse myself.
    I want to avoid a fight, I tell myself I really do. For one thing there’ll be more than just her to fight if I throw a punch, and for another I’m flat broke. I don’t have the money for food and if I get into a fight the way my magic burns through my system, I’ll need to eat something big. Like half the menu of any diner. So I really don’t want to fight.
    But my fist balls closed anyway.
    In the background the guy raises his fresh beer and sneers at me.
    “That wasn’t actually your drink, was it?” My dance partner asks.
    “No,” I say while shrugging.
    “So, what do you want to do? We could take them together?” He says, his tone even and deep, almost sincere.
    His offer makes me laugh. Together, I was hoping he’d let me make off with his cash, but here he is offering to get his pretty delicate face punched just for me – or for some sex more like it.
    “No?” he asks.
    He’s facing me; he has been this whole time, studying my expression, my stance. I have my gaze on the girl who’s going to try and harm me, but I can still feel the way my dance partner is looking me over.
    And as is typical the rest of the club