The bar was called Pufferfish.

Irwin sat in the parking lot contemplating this, studying the neon sign, which was pink with a pale blue outline. A pufferfish designed with the same colors constantly inflated and deflated next to the lettering, though the transition was a little defective and flickered constantly. This was no high-end place, that was for sure.

But the name had caught his attention because he hadn’t seen this place before or even heard of it. He’d wandered off the beaten path tonight because he was bored and here, sandwiched between a shitty vape shop and a Vietnamese hair salon, was Pufferfish.

Can’t hurt to try it.

Shrugging, Irwin turned off the car and got out. As soon as he did, he was able to hear what the metal exoskeleton of his car had been blocking out: the slow, heavy bass thump of what might be either dubstep or experimental electronic metal. Music genres had pretty blurred lines, these days. Either way, it was simply awful. But through the darkened windows of the bar, he could see what looked like a whole crowd of people jumping up and down to the beat. They had to all be drunk out of their minds.

That was exactly what he was hoping for, honestly.

The thump of the bass grew louder as he approached, thrumming in his bones, making his blood jump. Despite himself, he could feel his soul beginning to move to the beat and his steps fell in time with the measured rhythm. He could see now that there were lights flashing inside the bar, neon dashing across the faces of the patrons. Everyone seemed to be painted, not quite real. The world seemed to shift, to grow a little more magical, and he already felt drunk.

There was a line to get into the bar, which would have surprised him a few seconds ago but he had been transformed. He was the New and Improved Irwin, the one who had seen that Pufferfish was packed to the gills. The place was happening. Of course there was a line.

He watched the glare of lights pumping out through the windows in streams and flickers, like unfurling ribbons. Red, blue, green, yellow. Flashing and dancing, casting stark shadows that caught in even the slightest creases.

Everyone looks like they belong in a comic book.

The brights were too bright. The darks were too dark. He shuffled along in the line with everyone else, but he was almost unaware of his own progress until he was standing in front of the bouncer.

Irwin had never seen such a man before. He was broad and muscular, heavily tattooed, and clearly a force to be reckoned with but his smile was as bright as the lights shining off the top of his bald head. His shirt was covered in vertical stripes, all of them different colors, and his jeans were uncomfortably tight-looking. Bead bracelets rattled on his wrists, and his neck was encircled with more of the same. His face was broad but somehow round and almost…feminine. No shadows could catch in the lines of that face because there were none. It was simply perfect and smooth.

“Hi, sweetie,” the man shouted.

“Uh, hi,” Irwin yelled back. Even standing so close together, he could hardly hear the other man. He tried to move past, but the bouncer held out one thick arm, blocking him from entering.

“I’ll need to see your ID, sweetcheeks,” the bouncer hollered. “Pleasey-poo and thank-you!”

Reaching into his pocket, Irwin brought out his ID. The delay irked him, but he was used to it by now. There were very few benefits to looking younger than he actually was.

The bouncer studied his ID and then gave a little shake of his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe Irwin’s actual age. Several other bouncers in the past still wouldn’t let him in even after he’d shown his card to them, seeming to believe it was a fake, but this one just dropped his arm and gestured for Irwin to go inside.

“Have fun, baby!”

Irwin stared at him. “Uh, thanks?”

He went inside, puzzled by the exchange. However, his puzzlement didn’t last long before he was swallowed alive by the pumping throb of the music. Now that he was inside—now that the music was so loud in his ears that it seemed to be inside him—he could hear other sounds beneath the bass. The drum beat, the distortion, the stereotypical “wub” that defined dubstep more than anything else. The crowd inside the bar was loving it. They were a shifting mass of darkness, faceless and bodiless. They were a clump of bouncing shadow, arms up in the air, hips grinding and gyrating. If there were tables in this place, the sight of them was obscured by the dancers.

Everyone seemed to be wearing neon. Bracelets, necklaces, all of which lit up or flashed. In fact, the moment he was inside, a woman came up to him carrying a box of glow stick jewelry, and she tossed several in his direction. As she went away again, Irwin saw that half of her head was shaved and the other was cotton candy pink.

This place looks like so much fucking fun. Why have I never been here before?

Putting on his jewelry was like going through a metamorphosis. In only a few movements, he had become One of Them.

There were people everywhere, scents mingling into one confused, intermingled mass of smell. Sweat, booze, and excitement all swirled together, creating a perfume so powerful it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. And what was that musky undertone? Weed?

Irwin went in the direction of the weed.

As soon as he moved, he was boxed in, jostled back and forth by the other patrons, who all seemed to have unanimously decided that they weren’t going to let him move in certain directions. It was like trying to swim upstream. Forward momentum was impossible, and he only found himself making progress at a slant.

Suddenly he was standing in front of a counter that had magically appeared out of nowhere. The crowd seemed to part for him as he came, and he found himself looking right into the glowing rainbow eyes of the bartender before he even knew what was happening.

The bartender shouted something that sounded like a question. There was only one question that he could be asking and Irwin yelled, “Margarita,” in response. There was a board on the bar that he couldn’t read—too dark—but he saw the word margarita and figured the bartender would understand.

Irwin liked margaritas. They were like slushies for adults, and he often felt both childish and profoundly adult when drinking one. Someone once informed him that men shouldn’t drink such girly, fruity crap but he hadn’t ever been one to take advice before and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

The drink shoved in his direction after several long minutes of waiting was an overgrown child’s daydream. Richly-red with purple flecks, the rim of the margarita was covered not in salt but crushed candy. Irwin paid and took a sip. Flavors exploded on his tongue, somehow amplified by the music. Tart grapefruit and something else almost painfully sweet. Some sort of berry.

Gripping the thin stem of his drink, he went in search of a place to sit. This proved to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done in his life. Getting through the crowd on his own was impossible, and all the seats were occupied even when he managed to catch a glimpse of a nearby table.

Suddenly, someone grabbed onto his elbow. The touch was deliberate, not at all like the accidental shoving he’d been experiencing up until this point. Turning around was difficult when his shoulders were being compressed by a hefty man on either side, but he managed somehow.

Irwin found himself looking up, way up, into the fierce green eyes of another shapeshifter. No human could have eyes like this. They were emerald, so deep and vibrant that no amount of strobing could dampen their true hue. Flickers of gold and grey streamers encircled irises as deep as night, as endless as the depths of an ocean.

Irwin couldn’t pick up on the identity of the shifter looking at him in such a fierce manner because there were just too many scents, but it was quite clear to him that this man was an alpha and a predator.

“You alone?” the man said. He relaxed his grip on Irwin’s elbow but didn’t exactly release him. The touch was almost more intoxicating than alcohol. Little tingling bubbles of excitement formed just beneath his skin, spreading outward from the source until he felt so light that he might just drift away.

There was something special about this man. He was speaking in a near whisper as compared to everyone else shouting, but his deep voice was on such a different frequency that Irwin had no trouble at all hearing him.

“Yeah,” Irwin said. He took a sip of his drink, not knowing what else he was supposed to do or say. His lips were wet and he licked them, noticing the way the other man’s eyes were drawn to his tongue. Something about that was empowering.

“Want to come sit with me?” the man purred.

Am I in a gay bar?

When he finally had the realization, Irwin could have smacked himself. Fucking of course he was in a gay bar! He should have realized that when he talked to that effeminate bouncer!

But rather than wanting to leave, he wanted to stay. This was an atmosphere like he never experienced before and he didn’t exactly hate it. In fact, he’d go out on a limb and say this was the liveliest bar he’d ever been in. Everyone was having the time of their lives.

Why shouldn’t he?

Plus, there was something about this man. Something about the touch on his elbow and the way it made him feel. Nothing he’d experienced before could even compare to this.

Maybe I’m not ace. Am I gay?

Maybe he was already a little buzzed. Maybe he was having sensory overload and couldn’t think clearly. He just knew that he wanted to have fun, to explore a little. No harm in it. Tonight was his night to be free of all his worries. No work, no inhibitions.

“Yeah,” Irwin said. “Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.”

The man gave him such a charming grin that he very nearly fell in love on the spot. The hand on his elbow tightened once more, staking a claim, and then Irwin found himself being led away from the mass of dancers and over to a corner of the bar that was so heavily shadowed he hadn’t even noticed it. Though no place in Pufferfish could be rightly called quiet, it was certainly quieter.

The other man sat down at a small table with only two chairs, gesturing for Irwin to do the same. He did, noticing that there were only a few other people in this area and they were all paired off.

Have I wandered into something here?

He took a gulp of his margarita just in case, needing liquid courage. Cold scraped the back of his throat.

The man across from him leaned forward, pushing his own drink aside. Offering his hand, he said, “I’m Kip.”

Irwin reached for that massive hand, gripping it as firmly as he could even though his fingers could hardly reach. “I’m…” He hesitated. “My name is…Fox.”

“Fox, huh?” Kip smiled. His lips were full, delectable. Kissable, Irwin realized. “Weird name for a wolfboy.”

Irwin gestured up to his red hair. Kip let out a small, appreciative laugh. “I see.”

This other shifter had to have an extraordinary sense of smell if he could pick up on Irwin’s species in this tangled net of a room. Leaning forward, intrigued, Irwin asked, “And what are you?”

“Panthera leo. Lion.”

That explained the fearsome intensity of those emerald eyes.

Shivering a little on the inside, Irwin took another drink. Kip did the same, sipping delicately at a green appletini. A slice of fruit hung on the rim, which he plucked free and bit into with a flash of fangs. Irwin watched, almost mesmerized by the whole process. Normal actions seemed fascinating now, from the motion of Kip’s mouth as he chewed to the bobbing of his powerful throat when he swallowed.

When the apple wedge was gone, Kip shoved his martini glass aside and leaned forward a little more. “So, why are you in Pufferfish?” The smell of vodka billowed outward on his breath.

“Just looking for some fun,” Irwin replied.

“Well, you found it. You know why they call it Pufferfish?”

Irwin shook his head.

“Because in the wild, dolphins suck on pufferfish to get high. You want some weed?”

All the puzzle pieces finally clicked together. Not only was Irwin in a gay bar, he was in a gay rave bar. Turning his head, he looked out at the dance floor with new eyes. No wonder everyone was so hopped up, if they were all high. Those who weren’t couldn’t help but to be caught up in the craze.

“Fox?”

Irwin turned back. Remembering the question, he nodded. “I’d love some. You got any?”

“Not on me. They sell out back. Finish your drink.”

There was a lot left in the glass because he’d only just gotten started, but he made a valiant effort to finish as fast as possible. Kip looked around idly during the few minutes it took. His apparent loss of interest made Irwin hurry even more than before and by the time he was done, his stomach heavy and sloshing with alcohol, he really didn’t feel well at all.

Burping, Irwin showed off his empty glass.

Kip inspected it, then nodded with apparent satisfaction. “Cool. Let’s blow this joint. Get it?”

In the back of his mind, he knew the joke wasn’t all that funny. He laughed anyway because the world was distorted around him and his thoughts were fading by the second, replaced with instinct and desires.

Kip held not his elbow but his hand this time, tugging him deeper into the quiet part of the bar before sliding through a door so seamlessly black that not even Irwin’s superior predator vision could pick up on it. Each step was an adventure, an entire journey all on its own.

Then they were outside, in a fenced-off area at the back of the bar where mattresses had been laid out and couples were going at it in plain sight, pounding the hell out of each other. The sex was sloppy and uncoordinated, and none of the participants seemed to be enjoying it even as they went at each other with their full strength. Sirens wailed in the distance, partially obscured by slapping flesh and dull groans. High above, an airplane made its slow way across the sky.

Kip didn’t linger in the fenced area, however. His grip tightened, and he almost dragged Irwin around to the side, pushing through a gate. They headed around to behind the fence.

No one was there.

Irwin paused, confused. “Weren’t we getting weed?” he asked. His tongue felt thick. His words emerged slurred.

Kip gripped his hand so hard that the bones in his fingers ground together, wringing a squeak of pain from his lips. The sound didn’t go very far and if it had, anyone who heard it might assume that was just the sound he made during sex.

“Kip?” Something was very wrong here. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. A sour, sick feeling churned in his stomach. “I, uh, think I want to go back inside.”

Kip didn’t reply, nor did he loosen his grip. He turned his head and let out a low growl. Someone else growled in response and from the shadows in a nearby alley emerged another man, who looked very much like a slender version of Kip. Another man followed, and then a third.

Finally, Kip released his grip. Irwin stumbled forward, and the men surrounded him, forming a circle of lions with shining eyes and bared fangs.

Shit. Fuck. Oh, God.

Irwin held up his hands, feeling like he was moving in slow motion compared to the other shifters. “Wait,” he said. His voice was a slurred squeak. “Wait.”

The circle of lions closed in on him. Kip shook out his wild mane of hair, frosted with red in the light from Pufferfish. “We’re going to have so much fun with you,” he breathed.

Staggering backwards, Irwin ran into one of the lions, who pushed him back into the center of their circle. He turned again and again, breathless, trying to think of a way to escape but no option seemed anywhere near viable. The sour taste of vomit rose up the back of his throat and saliva filled his mouth. Swallowing made him choke, and the sound twisted into a whimper of fear.

Kip’s eyes blazed with a sick lust, and he advanced.

Whimpering, Irwin turned to run but found himself ensnared by two pairs of arms. His wrists were yanked down by his side. Baring his fangs, he snapped at the lions holding him, but then someone else slapped him across the side of his face and he nearly collapsed. The world spun around and around and he couldn’t right himself, couldn’t figure out which way was up and which was down. Huge hands grabbed his waist and then tore at the front of his pants, ripping open his zipper. The button shot away somewhere into the dark, a skittering glimpse of silver.

A fifth man appeared from the direction of the button. Irwin looked at him and saw only more danger, and his legs went weak.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

Kip’s voice, furious.

That man isn’t with them.

Irwin opened his eyes to see the fifth man had stopped a few feet away. It was difficult to tell what he looked like, the shadows and Irwin’s fear and dizziness and drunkenness all combining to obscure his form, but he was on the slim side, with very long, dark hair. His eyes looked like spotlights.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” the fifth man said. “But I don’t think I like it much. Kid, are these men bothering you?”

If he opened his mouth to answer, he was going to puke. Then there was hot breath on his ear, a dangerous whisper warning him to keep quiet.

Kip left the circle and went to stand chest-to-chest with the long-haired intruder. They were nearly the same height, though Kip had an inch or two on the other man. “This isn’t your business. Leave.”

“I don’t think so,” the man said, utterly calm. “That boy doesn’t look like he’s going to have as much fun as you. Let him go, or you’re going to regret it.”

“No, you’re going to regret it!”

Kip shifted on the spot, becoming an enormous golden-brown lion with a billowing black mane. His fangs were like knives, and his paws were the size of hams. Tail lashing, he dropped his head and lunged at the other man.

Then the man with the long hair transformed as well, leaving behind his human form to enter that of a black wolf. Despite the fact that he was an enormous animal, his size still paled in comparison next to the big cat. Irwin knew this wasn’t going to end well, and he winced. Pity filled his heart for the wolf attempting to be a hero. Now they were both going to suffer for it.

Kip landed hard on the ground where the black wolf had been only a moment before…and now was not, though he had moved so impossibly fast that Irwin missed it entirely. Whirling around, Kip snapped at the flicking tip of the black wolf’s tail as it whipped just out of his reach.

“Get out of here!” Irwin yelled. “Go! You can’t…”

A heavy hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. Squirming and writhing, he tried to break free but to no avail. His chest filled with anger to replace the fear. This idiot was going to get himself killed. He might be fast, but he couldn’t handle four rowdy lions all on his own.

Kip and the black wolf circled each other once, fur bristling, eyes raking over each other for an opening. Suddenly, Kip’s paw lashed out. Huge hooked claws caught the light as they slashed through the night. Irwin winced again, expecting to see a number of things, none of which were good. A spray of blood, or perhaps a spreading pool on the concrete as the wolf collapsed from a devastating injury.

Instead, what he saw was at once a thousand times worse and one hundred times more awe-inspiring. It was insane and risky and just simply unforeseen.

The wolf shifter transformed into a human in the blink of an eye, grabbed the furry golden leg snapping towards him like the strike of a whip, and yanked. Roaring, Kip staggered forward. The man spun around behind him on feet as light as the wind and transformed again to deliver a heavy bite high up on Kip’s shoulder where his mane couldn’t protect him.

Kip snarled, human and animal sounds mixing in his jaws. He turned for another attack, blood streaking his fur, but the wolf had already circled around behind him and was clawing at his rump with dull nails.

Two of the other lions dove into the fray. One was heavy and dark brown, though not as large as Kip, while the other was slender with a ragged scruff of hair where he should have had a mane. Irwin struggled against the one who remained to hold onto him, but it was still no use. All he could do was watch.

Twisting and spinning, the black wolf seemed to defy all laws of logic and physics. Weaving effortlessly in and out of the throng of lions, he delivered swift attacks before darting out of reach. When the moment struck him, he kept switching back to human form to kick out, shove, or deliver some sort of practiced strike that Irwin could imagine belonging in a martial arts movie.

But three lions against one wolf was never going to be a fight that could be won. The dark lion caught the wolf by surprise and knocked him to the ground on his back. The others pressed in, malice on their faces. Blood dripped from a number of small wounds covering their bodies, while the black wolf was unharmed.

It wasn’t going to stay that way long.

Irwin pulled in a sudden gulp of air, intending to transform too, when the black wolf pulled yet another trick out of his bag. Arching his back, he somehow corkscrewed against the ground and sent the dark lion tumbling to his side. The wolf was there in an instant, slashing his face with his claws, before shifting back into a human stance. Balancing his weight on one leg, he sent out a kick so powerful that Irwin heard a bone snap in the slim lion’s foreleg. That leg came down and the foot planted firmly in the earth, and the man pivoted as if he was on an axis, bringing his hand down hard on the back of Kip’s neck.

And then it was over.

Kip rose to his paws, and then to his feet. His lip was bloody and he held his head at an odd angle. “Fuck this,” he snarled. Turning, he ran off down the alleyway, followed by all three of his injured companions.

Released, the first thing Irwin did was turn and vomit. He noted with a vague interest that the margarita was the exact same color coming out as it was going in, albeit a bit foamier.

A heavy hand settled on his lower back, and he flinched so hard that he might have fallen if not for the hand steadying him, not harming him.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Wiping his mouth, Irwin straightened up and turned to look at his savior. It was so dark and he was dizzy still, his thoughts whirling from all that just happened, so that he couldn’t see much of the other wolf. All he could do was reaffirm what he already knew. “Um…I…think I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” The other shifter placed that heavy hand on his shoulder and peered into his eyes before drawing away. For just an instant, a flicker of deep emotion crossed his face before disappearing. The depth of feeling in that moment was staggering but it was there and then gone so fast that Irwin wondered if he had actually seen it. “I can take you to the hospital. Or call an ambulance. The police. Let me…”

“No,” Irwin said quickly. He’d never been caught stealing before, but there had been a few close calls. He didn’t want to risk a police officer recognizing him for whatever reason. Plus, he just didn’t trust the cops. “No, thanks. I’m fine. Really. I think I…I just want to go home. Thank you. But I should…I should…”

He should…what? He couldn’t think. His stomach was churning again, the taste of bile in his mouth making him feel sick.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the man asked, frowning. He leaned forward. Irwin leaned back, and the world tilted around him. “You look kind of wobbly. My name is Dagwood.”

Did he say Dogwood? Like, the tree? Is he really named after a tree?

Irwin opened his mouth to pose this question, but it was in that moment that his world went black.