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Bass pounded through my body, vibrations crawling up from the soles of my feet to the top of my skull. The club lights fragmented into prismatic shards, blurring the boundaries between bodies on the dance floor. I couldn't remember how many drinks I'd had. Three? Five? The empty glass in my hand felt weightless.
"Isaiah..."
A woman pressed against me, her perfume sharp and synthetic. Not her—someone else called my name.
"Isaiah..."
She slid her hands up my chest, pupils blown wide. Someone's girlfriend. The boyfriend watched from the bar, jaw tight, fingers white around his glass.
"Isaiah..."
The boyfriend's fist connected with air as I stepped aside. Amateur. The second punch was just as predictable. I caught his wrist and applied pressure to the right point. He dropped to his knees.
"Walk away," I said.
He didn't.
"Isaiah..."
Blood sprayed across the dance floor. Not from the boyfriend—from something else. The crowd parted, screaming. Dark shapes moved through the club, too fast to track. Not human. The music continued its relentless thump as people ran.
Sharp pain across my chest. I looked down to see four parallel lines carved through my shirt, blood welling up in perfect crimson beads.
"Isaiah!"
A woman stood before me, horns curling from her temples, tongue unnaturally long and pointed. She dragged it across my chest, collecting blood. Her eyes rolled back as she tasted me, a moan escaping her throat.
""Mmmm... fuck." She purred.
My necklace—where was my necklace? I felt for it, fingers meeting bare skin.
"Isaiah, move!"
A blur of red—hair the exact shade of the blood seeping from my wounds. A woman threw herself at the horned creature, both of them crashing into the bar. Glass shattered. Alcohol ignited. The sprinklers activated, rain falling indoors.
I stumbled backward, feet tangling in something. My necklace lay on the floor, chain broken. As I reached for it, the red-haired woman landed hard beside me, thrown by the creature.
"Run," she gasped, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth.
I didn't.
"Isaiah..."
The voice changed, became more insistent. Annoying.
"Isaiah!"
My eyes snapped open.
Darkness. Complete darkness.
My head throbbed with the mother of all hangovers, each heartbeat sending a spike of pain through my skull. I tried to reach up to touch my temple, but my arms wouldn't move.
Something bound my wrists behind me. Rope? Zip ties? I couldn't tell. My ankles were similarly restrained, secured to what felt like chair legs.
Panic surged through me, clearing some of the fog from my brain. I pulled against my bonds, the chair creaking beneath me.
"What the fuck? Hello? Anyone there?" My voice sounded rough, like I'd been screaming.
Soft laughter floated through the darkness. A woman's laugh, light and almost musical.
"Finally! I was getting so bored watching you twitch and mutter."
Footsteps approached, the sound of heels clicking against a hard floor. I tensed, straining against my restraints.
Cool fingers brushed against my cheeks, making me flinch. They traced my jawline, almost tender in their exploration.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, trying to sound braver than I felt. "Where am I?"
The fingers moved to the back of my head, finding the knot of what I now realized was a blindfold. The cloth slipped away, but the darkness remained for a moment as my eyes struggled to adjust.
Then I saw them—eyes inches from mine, with irises unlike anything I'd ever seen. A pattern like a lotus flower spun slowly within them, hypnotic and impossible. The face around those eyes came into focus: heart-shaped, with full lips curved into a smile that didn't reach those strange eyes.
Pink hair framed her face, falling in soft waves to her shoulders. Her hands still cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
"Hello, Isaiah Angelo," she murmured, her voice like honey laced with something dangerous.
She stepped back, giving me a better view of her. Tall and slender, wearing a cropped top that exposed her midriff and a plaid skirt that barely reached mid-thigh. Thigh-high socks ended just below the hem of her skirt, leaving a strip of pale skin exposed.
She moved to a chair opposite me, crossing one leg over the other before apparently changing her mind and letting her knees fall slightly apart.
Something strange caught my eye. Points of heat, like thermal imaging, glowed across her body—one at her throat, another between her breasts, a third at her navel. They pulsed with a rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
I tore my gaze away and took in my surroundings. The room was small and windowless, every surface covered with yellow paper inscribed with red symbols. They crawled across the walls, ceiling, and floor in patterns that hurt my eyes if I looked at them too long.
"What the fuck...?" I whispered, the words escaping without conscious thought.
She tilted her head, those lotus eyes studying me with unnerving intensity. "So, Isaiah Angelo..." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin resting on her interlaced fingers.
"Are you a Shaman or a Demon?"