Danny made lunch and studied the closet full of clothing in his bedroom after calling off work. Taking bites of boxed macaroni and cheese, he cradled the bowl and set it down only when he saw what he intended to wear that night; a black, sheer top with satin cuffs and a fresh pair of black pants. He never went to Nocturne on Mondays. In fact, he avoided doing so during the week, when the crowd was sparser, and his presence could be more easily recognized. But not going meant running the risk of never knowing what had happened to him on Saturday night.

So, he plucked the shirt and pants from his closet and set them on the bed. Even if his only intention was to ask questions, he didn’t dare to arrive not looking the part of patron, so he unpacked his makeup and set it out, readying himself for when the sun set. Several hours later, and after a quick nap, he had fresh eyeliner and lipstick applied, his hair teased and standing in spikes, with a collar covering the cut on his neck. After pulling on his boots, he grabbed his leather jacket and crammed his wallet into his pocket.

One last look in the mirror confirmed his transformation back into his Goth alter ego.

Nocturne resided on the far edge of the neighborhood, open to its queer patrons and a general haunt of all things Gothic. The crowd had begun its assembly into the club by the time Danny arrived, but as he feared, the usual wall of people either hadn’t arrived or wouldn’t be arriving for the night. These, he realized, were the hardcore party-goers who suffered through day jobs for their nighttime reprieve.

Walking up to the bar, he ordered a drink from one and sipped from it first before launching into questioning. “Do you remember me from the other night?” he asked the woman, who looked to be his age, with skin only a shade lighter than the clothing she wore.

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, what was that, Saturday night?” she asked.

“Yeah, Saturday.” Danny took another drink. “I can’t remember shit and wondered how blackout drunk I got to stumble from Point A to Point B without remembering anything.”

“I don’t know.” She breathed a light chuckle. When another patron sat at the bar, she lifted a finger, indicating she’d be right with them. This freed her to center her focus on Danny. “I don’t remember you drinking a lot. Granted, we usually have a good three or four bartenders working on Saturdays, but if you’re drinking heavy, I usually serve you more than once. Unless you’re the type to line up shots.”

Danny snorted. “Not that type at all.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Let’s just say I know how I get when I’m drunk and normally, I like to wade into that pond.”

“Then unless I wasn’t serving most of your drinks, I’d be tempted to say you weren’t shitfaced.”

“That isn’t good.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, reaching in her pocket for a lighter and leaning forward to offer him a light.

“Because if it wasn’t me drinking, then I don’t know what it was.” He savored a puff from the cigarette. When the other bartender wandered over to tend to the new patron, Danny relaxed even further. “You could say I woke up to some crazy shit. A cut on my neck. Blood on my shirt.”

She smirked. “Sounds like one of the wanna-be vamps slipped something into your drink.”

“I hadn’t considered that. You might be onto something there.” When she slid an ashtray closer to him, he nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

“No problem,” she said, and as Danny lapsed into quiet contemplation, she wandered away. For as much sense as it made, something felt unsatisfactory about the answer. Anticlimactic, even, to consider that he had been the victim of something so invasive, sure, but ordinary. Like he’d been looking for more. ‘Kind of fucked up when you think about it, Danny,’ he thought, polishing off his drink and extinguishing his cigarette. Whatever hole had been opened in his soul, Danny felt bent to fill it with his usual vices.

So, he ordered another drink, and he took to the dance floor.

It wasn’t a teeming mass of bodies, but enough people occupied the space to immerse him in the moment the same way it did most weekend nights. He found an empty table to toss his coat onto and as the hours wore on, he threw himself into the experience and made the conclusion that this mystery had been solved, even if it didn’t lead to something deeper. ‘Like what?’ he asked himself before dismissing the question, leaving it unanswered except to scold himself into wading back to reality the next day. By his fourth drink, he had mourned the passing of adventure. When he went to order the fifth one, however, something caught his eye.

The girl didn’t look familiar to him, or summon any forgotten memories, but as she sat at the bar smoking a cigarette, he couldn’t help but to notice the gash on her neck, nearly identical to his. Danny raised an eyebrow and sat beside her, giving the bartender his next request and turning his attention to the girl while waiting for it to be delivered. “That’s an interesting cut,” he said, speaking over the volume of the music, but not so loud as to garner the attention of other people.

She turned her head and looked at him, confused at first until she seemed to realize what he had said. “Oh, this?” she asked, pointing to her neck. Shrugging, she reached for the shot glass in front of her and downed the alcohol like it had lost the ability to faze her. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird how it doesn’t hurt. I would have expected it to myself.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Danny reached to unfasten his collar, and as he did, he turned enough for the girl to see the nearly identical mark on his neck. As he did, however, she startled, and reached to touch his arm, grabbing onto it before he could remove the collar altogether. “Not here,” she warned with a harsh whisper. Her eyes shifted from one patron to another, then settled on Danny. “Do you want to get us both into trouble?”

“In trouble?” he asked. Mentally, he oscillated between playing along and being honest.

Her response settled him onto the former. “Yes, in trouble.” She shot a warning glare at him until he fastened the collar back into place. Only then, did she relax, though her voice remained quiet when she spoke again. “I don’t know how flippant your Master is, but mine told me we would get into trouble if we talked about this in public.”

“Mine might have. I’m a little new to this so I don’t remember all the rules.” Danny shrugged, pausing when his drink was delivered and picking it up only as the bartender wandered away again. “At the same time, it’s only you and me here. I doubt anyone can hear us over the noise.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I have a good thing going and I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Really? What’s your Master doing for you that mine’s not?”

She eyed Danny warily. “It takes a while to get the perks. You know that, right?”

“I do. But maybe I’d like a taste of what I have to look forward to.”

“Please.” The girl laughed. “I doubt any of the other Masters treats their Pet like mine does.” She left the statement hanging, but her gaze remained fixed on Danny in a way that suggested she was on the cusp of cracking. He took a sip, waiting patiently, and she finally sighed with exasperation and extinguished her cigarette. “Well, alright, for starters he bonds with his favorites. I don’t know who your Master is.”

Danny rifled through his thoughts and settled on the man from his dream. “Liam,” he said.

“I don’t know Liam,” she said, though this didn’t seem to trouble her. She continued. “Anyway, Maximus has even brought some of us over to the other side, though you have to really turn his head for him to do that. The rest of us, though? Money. Clothes. Stuff. He’s even dressed me up for one of their meetings.”

“Sheesh. You got a meeting? I haven’t reached that level yet.”

“Oh, just wait.” The stroke to her ego made her preen. “You get to sit on their laps and they show you off like you’re some sort of trophy.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Never. It’s what we want, after all. To please them, right?”

“Oh, definitely, just wondering.” Something about the way she spoke made her expression more dream-like, both piquing Danny’s curiosity and firing warning signals about her behavior. “I mean, in fact, I feel a little off because I’m not pleasing my Master right now.”

The statement risked laying it on too thick, but the girl latched onto it, her lips curling in a conspiratorial grin. “Want to blow this place?” she asked. “Pay for our drinks and go to the Den?”

“Hell yes.” Danny tossed back the remainder of his drink before standing. A twenty-dollar bill made it from his wallet onto the counter, without any care given for change, intrigue winning out over caution as another word became a part of the discussion. Den. Pet. Master. The bartender could have been right, and this could have been some strange pseudo immortal subculture, but if he had been drugged by them, logic dictated that he should know. The girl left money in her wake as well, and together they departed from Nocturne, not saying a word as they made their exit.

The girl remained mostly mute during the duration of their walk, too, only pausing to introduce herself as Heather, which prompted Danny to offer his name back. They wandered southward, leaving the vicinity of both the nightclub and the neighborhood, and while Danny would have never called his neighborhood safe, where they wandered made it look pristine. Several wary sets of eyes watched them walk, and when they turned westward, Danny felt a small knot twist in his stomach.

More than once, he considered turning back. But each time, he reconsidered and let the inebriated haze he occupied be his guiding force. Heather hummed, her mood brightening the closer they got, and when they stopped in front of a ramshackle shop with boarded windows, she bounded to the front door and knocked. Danny tensed, and when the door opened, he released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

A man on the other side looked at Heather and raised an eyebrow.

“I belong to Maximus,” she said. Then, she pointed at Danny. “This is one of Liam’s pets. We’ve come to serve our Masters.”

Danny kept his expression neutral, despite his internal panicking. The man at the door maintained eye contact and as he nodded, Danny felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Both he and Heather walked inside, pausing in the entryway while the man shut the door behind him. “I don’t know if both of your Masters are in tonight,” he said, “But you’re welcome to wait for them.”

“Thank you,” Danny said, barking out the words before he could stop himself. The man looked confused but failed to say anything else. Heather led the way inside and the man remained by the door, sitting while opening a book that he’d undoubtedly been reading. Heather tugged Danny onward before he could question it any further, his attention drawn first to the old, abandoned front room they walked through and then, to the second door they approached. Hand on the knob, Heather paused to glance at Danny over her shoulder.

“It was good to meet you, Danny,” she said, winking while opening the door.