Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The constant flash flash flash of the lights is giving me a headache. The customers around me are happily dancing, drinking, and shouting to be heard over the pounding bass. The club smells of sweat and old beer and the occasional cloying perfume.
The first few shifts I was so excited to be working here, but after a few short weeks, the excitement dulled. Yeah, it got old real fast.
I’m not a naive person. Even though I’m young, I’ve always considered myself pretty worldly. Grandad made sure that I knew about every danger. But there’s a big difference between knowing and seeing. Experiencing.
Yeah, a vast difference.
I don’t know why—perhaps it’s a club thing—but Night-Shift seems to bring out the worst in people. Their baser instincts are all on display for others to see.
To say it’s been eye-opening so far wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Working here is sure educational.
If I didn’t already know that I wasn’t a people person, ha, I know now.
I don’t even take in the people having fun.
They’re just bodies in the way of getting my job done.
When I started snarling at them with poorly veiled contempt, and I had visions of me committing murder, I flicked a switch in my head.
Instead of annoying people, I imagine them to be objects, moving objects that I have to work around.
’Cause if they’re people, I get irate with them, where if they are objects, they can’t be held accountable for their actions and they don’t matter to me.
I know it’s strange… but it works for me and my weird hybrid brain.
To help blend in, I wear baggy trousers instead of my leggings, and I’ve swapped out the tight club T-shirt for an oversized polo.
Thank God I haven’t inherited the perfect model looks of my born vamp side.
There’d be no way of hiding then. My silhouette is shapeless.
On my feet, I wear my old comfortable Doc Martens boots, and on my head a club baseball cap with the brim pulled down low.
To stop my heavy hair from getting in the way—dipping the ends of my hair in a leftover pint isn’t on my to-do list—I keep it in a tidy plait and stuff the end out of the way down the back of my top.
I blend into the background. I’m sure they think I’m a boy, which is fine by me.
What I have found is it’s rare for people to see beyond what you present to them.
I am not here to look attractive, and I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as I’m getting paid.
I keep my head down and avoid drunk grabby hands like a pro.
I am invisible, just how I like it.
I’m finally getting used to my hectic schedule of balancing regular double shifts at the café with two nights a week at Night-Shift. Heck, who am I kidding… I close my eyes and shake my head. I feel like I’m sleepwalking from one job to the next.
Back behind the bar, in a side room, I robotically unload and then reload the glass washer, then I trudge back out.
I weave around the customers, grabbing glasses as I go.
I need to keep moving. If I stop, I might seize up.
I am a seventeen-year-old badass hybrid, yet I feel like I’m an eighty-year-old human.
I don’t understand it. I’m supposed to be young, sprightly, bouncy—but I wake up in the morning, and my whole body aches and my bones creak.
So I do what you’d expect a hybrid to do while in hiding.
I ignore it. I just need more time to get used to these extra hours, that’s all, and the early cold weather isn’t helping.
Summer has moved on, and it feels like we’ve skipped autumn completely.
The garage is freezing, and it’s messing with me.
I dodge out of the way of a stumbling, giggling object with sky-high heels.
I try not to think about my own throbbing feet.
About an hour ago, my boots stopped being comfortable—at some point during these last few weeks, my boots moulded to my feet.
Even when I take them off, I feel like they’re still on.
Tonight the damn things have their own heartbeat.
Thanks to today’s double shift at the café, I’m entering the sixteenth hour of working.
Four hours to go. Yay. Then a nap at the gym—the spa has a brilliant area where I can lie down and listen to strange relaxing music—’cause there is no point going home. Then off I go to the café and do it all again.
I yawn.
One more full crazy day and then I have the whole of Sunday to sleep. Or I’ll try. Dexter, after two days of surviving on dry cat food and no attention from me and no doubt bored with terrorising Story, will show his displeasure. I’ll be lucky to sleep the day away what with all the howling.
I can’t wait.
I smirk. There is no point in informing him that he was a stray before he butted into my life, and he isn’t alone. He’ll have none of it. Yes, my cat is smart, and like every cat owner, I know he understands every word I say.
The responsibility for the welfare of both the pixie and the cat keeps me going. At least I’m no longer on my own.
I avoid an object’s hand as it tries to grab my arm. “Oi, mate, do you know where the gents is?”
I point.
“Cheers, pal.”
A crowd of objects gather around the end of the main bar, staring at the big water feature.
The fancy tank has an honest-to-God mermaid.
Sometimes I wish I had her job. All she has to do is float in her tank and flip her hair.
I smirk and shake my head as I see her rub her boobs against the glass to the delight of the male objects.
Huh, I guess getting stared at all the time might not be my go-to thing. I’d rather collect glasses and keep my boobs covered.
The nightclub is busy tonight. The atmosphere is buzzing with a strange excitement over and above the usual we-are-out-to-have-fun vibe, and it puts me on edge.
As if my thoughts have trickled into fate’s ear, excited energy ripples through the club like a wave.
I lift my eyes and scan the crowd. It could be an indication of a fight brewing or a predator stirring the human herd.
A lot of humans visit the club, as it’s a relatively safe walk-on-the-wild-side environment.
A lot of people seem to get brave after drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and they beg for the opportunity to gain some creature’s attention.
Pick me, pick me. Bloody idiots. More like eat me, eat me. I snort. I find it strange. Humans are prey. Why would they want to play with the creatures that could kill them?
The buzzing energy makes my skin feel tight. The feeling is palpable, like a celebrity has arrived and everyone is vying for their attention. The objects around me freeze, and even in their inebriated states, they nudge and point.
I tilt my head to the side with interest. Seven huge shifters—they’re head and shoulders above the regular customers—make their way through the club.
As if moved by magic, the objects dive and scramble out of their way.
The men walk in a box formation, two at the front, three in the middle, and two at the rear.
My whole world stops—it freezes. Nothing exists for me at that moment as my eyes greedily take him in.
It is the seventh man, the one in the middle that holds my interest. He doesn’t prowl like the shifters.
No, he moves like liquid, he flows. I’ve never seen anybody move like him, and that’s why I instantly recognise him.
My heart thuds with excitement, and my body pings awake. I can’t help grinning.
It’s him.
Boom. I was right, the man is breathtakingly beautiful.
My guy. Well, urm, not my guy… He’s obviously not mine.
I roll my eyes. God, he must be important as he is in the middle of their protective grouping.
He isn’t a shifter, no. He is something else.
As soon as I see him my tummy flips as if there’s a creature inside me playing bongo drums with my organs.
I raise my eyebrows and I lick my lips. His power is exotic. It tickles against my senses. It’s a testament to how strong he is that I can feel him from way over here.
He turns his head, and his glowing gold eyes look in my direction. I squeak, drop my head, and scuttle behind a pillar. Which I then peek around.
Yeah, my game is strong.
I rub the back of my neck with embarrassment. I can feel myself steadily going bright red, and I’m all of a sudden extra sweaty.
I’m not blind to the opposite sex, and I’m not an innocent fluffy virgin either.
I’ve definitely disproved the rumour about unicorns and virgins.
I scuff the toe of my boot against the carpet and kick the bottom of the pillar.
And what an epic mistake that was. Boys?
Men? Meh, I can take them or leave them, dismiss them without a second thought, no problem.
Boys are disgusting.
No, I haven’t got the time or the inclination to pursue anything romantic with anybody.
But… this guy… does it for me.
To me, he is male perfection.
Yeah, he’s absolutely beautiful. But he’s an older guy. He is also a powerful, deadly unknown creature. That double combination spells trouble with a capital T.
I mean look at the way he affects me. I am having palpitations while hiding behind a pillar. I haven’t even spoken to the guy, and if I’m honest, I probably never will. I mean good God, just looking at him freaks me out.
I rest my glowing cheek on the pillar. I know it’s stupid to pant over some guy, some stranger who will never know I exist.
I haven’t even got time to dream about him.
Huh, that’s what he is… He’s a dream. A beautiful dream—gorgeous and completely unattainable. Liable to mess with my head.
I can’t be trusted. These feelings I have can’t be trusted. I can continue to admire him from afar or… Shut up, Tru. No, he is better off far away from me.
I stare at his retreating, muscled form, my mouth watering for him.
My life is one misstep into an early grave. There is no point going there, even if it’s in my head. I can’t have dreams past tomorrow.
I sigh as he smiles cordially at a shifter and—ouch. Someone bumps into me. I blink. I shake my head; I look back, and he’s disappeared into the VIP area.