Chapter 8 #2
I can already hear the music pumping out from the building.
There’s a long line outside the club, but Kit bypasses it without even a pause.
When he approaches the bouncer, a large man in a tight black T-shirt, I expect him to stop us, but he waves us through.
How did Kit manage that? I know I look good tonight, but I’m not hot enough to bypass club lines. I’m just not.
The club is dark, lit mainly by blue lights on the ceiling, and the music is so loud I can hardly hear the actual music, just feel the beat.
He approaches the bar. I’m not sure what he’s expecting to get—he didn’t bring any money.
However, I don’t have to wonder for long.
Not even a full thirty seconds passes before a man approaches, offering to buy him a drink.
Okay. I know I am not that hot. Maybe he’s working some Hell magic.
Or maybe it’s the confidence he’s bringing to my body.
Goddammit. Does this mean if I was more confident, I could have been getting free drinks all this time? Fuck that. I don’t believe that.
Kit is handed a vodka soda.
“Vodka soda?” I comment. “Boring choice.”
In the void, he responds, “I wanted to ask for a Slow and Gentle Screw Against the Wall, but I didn’t know if the bartender would know how to make that drink or if he would think I was offering. Though, if you want me to offer, I can. He’s hot.”
“Kit, you are absolutely not allowed to use my body for sex.”
“Understood. I wasn’t planning on it. Just figured I’d throw the suggestion out there, since you’re awake. It could be fun,” he taunts.
“No.”
With no further argument, Kit makes his way to the dance floor where the beat is thumping so hard I feel it in my void.
He starts to dance, moving so much I can hardly see what’s happening out there.
And what I can see is making me dizzy. I put my head in my hands to get the void to stop spinning.
When I pick my head back up, I see a man approaching.
He moves out of sight, but I can tell what’s happening.
Kit is grinding on him like we’re at a middle school dance.
“Get him off of me, Kit.”
Kit moves away without hesitation, still dancing with the man, just not grinding. Whatever. Kit is handed another drink and chugs it, another one appearing in his hand seconds later.
A shiver shoots up my spine as a freezing chill spreads over me.
I peer down at my feet to see water surrounding them.
I lean closer to inspect the water, taking a sniff.
Oh. No. This is not water. This is vodka.
Sure. With each sip Kit takes, the vodka at my feet is rising, rapidly smothering my shoes.
I pick my feet up from the ground and hug my knees to my chest as I make myself as small as possible on the chair.
“My void is filling with vodka soda,” I inform him irately.
He doesn’t respond. He’s still dancing and still drinking, another vodka soda come and gone. I wish I had the ability to murder him, because oh my god I want to murder him. At least he’s not letting strange men touch me anymore.
The vodka is rising around the legs of my chair, almost reaching the seat.
I glare out my window at the bouncing scene, the jewel-toned lights flashing.
I stand on the chair as the vodka sea begins to overtake the seat, but I’m not standing for long.
As Kit continues dancing, the liquid thrashes around my feet, creating waves and knocking the chair over and me with it.
I splash into the liquid, struggling for breath more out of instinct than necessity.
I get to my feet, hair dripping and clothes soaked, the vodka now at my hips.
I clench my fists at my sides. “Kit! My void is full of vodka! Go sober up!”
Still no response from him. Asshole.
I’m about to start yelling again when I hear, “Lacy?”
Except that isn’t Kit talking.
“Meggie?” I whisper, hope hitting me.
I press my face to the window, angling my head in an attempt to see my sister before Kit slowly swivels her into his viewpoint. Her shoulder-length, dark hair is straight, and sparkles adorn her eyelids. If I could, I’d tell her she looks pretty.
“Meggie!” I shout desperately.
She scolds, “You were supposed to call me today!”
“Do I know you?” Kit asks, slurring his words in my voice. He has had about seventeen vodka sodas.
I scream, “Yes! That’s my sister! We know her!” I bang on the glass of the window. “Meggie! That’s Meggie!”
Meggie wrinkles her nose and shouts over the music, “Hilarious! What are you doing? Are you here alone?”
“No,” Kit says to her. “No, no. I’m here with a friend.”
She narrows her eyes. “Which friend?”
“Lacy.”
Oh, good lord.
“That’s my sister!” I yell again, continuing to bang on the glass. “Megs! Help me!”
Meggie glares. “God, Lace, how drunk are you?” She grabs Kit’s arm, yanking him to walk. “Let’s get you home, okay? That’s enough for tonight.”
He wrenches his arm from her grasp, backing away.
I slam my hands on the window, the vodka now at waist level. “For fuck’s sake! That. Is. My. Sister! Go with her! Please! Let her take you home!”
Meggie scoffs loudly, ready to kill me. “What the hell?” She grabs Kit’s arm again, hard enough to bruise me. Hard enough, I can feel her nails digging into my skin. I grasp at that pain, using it to ground me. “Let’s go, Lace.”
He yanks free again and says in a voice more his than mine, “No.” Then everything goes black. Only for a heartbeat, then I can see again. I watch as Meggie’s face goes from absolutely pissed to absolutely horrified. She sprints away from us.
“What did you do?!” I yell at him.
Nothing.
Fuck.
“Megs,” I whisper pleadingly, still staring at where she disappeared into the crowd.
Someone puts another drink in Kit’s hand.
The vodka continues to rise as he continues to drink and dance.
It isn’t long before the liquid reaches my chin.
And not long after that that I’m treading in it.
Soon enough, I’ll be drowning. My legs and arms move wildly to keep myself afloat.
Can I die in here? If I die in here, does Kit get to keep my body forever?
“Kit!” I yell, kicking the window with as much power as I can muster in the vodka soda sea. I kick and I kick, trying and failing to get his attention. “Kit, please!”
I can see out the top sliver of the window, barely, but I can tell that we’re moving. Kit staggers through the sea of people and down a black hallway. He pushes his way past a line of women and into the men’s room. Oh, no.
“Kit, don’t you dare take me into a men’s bathroom at a club!”
God, even the thought of entering this place is enough to give me nightmares.
I swim closer to the window so I can press my face against the glass again.
It’s still dark, but quieter, loud music muted by the closed door.
The floor is littered with scraps of toilet paper, paper towels, questionable liquids, discarded beer bottles, cans, and condom wrappers.
There are a few guys at the urinals, but they pay Kit no mind as he pushes his way into a stall, slamming the crooked door behind him.
“Don’t you dare put my ass on that toilet!”
He does. Ewww. This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. I can’t actually feel it, but I know my ass is touching it. My stomach swims, bile rising in my throat. I’ll need approximately thirty showers after this night.
Suddenly, the liquid drops. Not entirely, but enough that my feet hit the floor again and the sea is only around my neck, my hair floating around me. I ignore the fact that Kit’s hand is in between my legs as he wipes before he stands and rebuttons his pants.
This is the first time he’s peed all night.
First time all day, in fact. Do normal bodily functions not work while you’re possessed?
How does that make sense? Though he did display some enhanced strength earlier tonight, so having a demon inside of oneself alters one’s natural body chemistry?
I have no idea. Something to ask Kit when he stops being an unbearable drunk asshole, I guess.
Kit stumbles out of the bathroom, slamming into a wall in the hallway.
Everything goes black.
I suck in a huge breath as I plunge back into my body. I gawp around wildly, squinting at the flashes of blue and purple light. Hey, now. I am no longer in the void. I’m in the club. I am clubbing. In my own body. And oh, fuck me sideways.
I hurl myself at a trashcan already filled with other people’s vomit and retch, about sixteen of the vodka sodas coming up.
A random woman approaches from behind and holds my hair back, patting my back as a few more of Kit’s drinks make an appearance. “There, there,” she says. “Release your puke, little bird.” I love drunk women. They’re so kind.
I push myself away from the trash can with shaky arms. Where did Kit go?
Did he leave? Is this his idea of a joke?
Get me so wasted I should probably go to the hospital for a stomach pump and then ditch me? And owww. It’s like a thousand little knives have shoved themselves into my feet.
These heels are not meant to be worn for hours on end, especially when dancing.
“You all right?” the woman asks, dabbing my mouth with a black cocktail napkin.
“Yesh,” I slur. “I have to find Megs.”
“Who’s that?”
“Sister.”
“Good. Be safe, little bird.” She pats my head and dances away.
Ughhhhhh. The vodka is still splashing around my head, and my stomach, tittering me off balance.
I stumble back to the dance floor, but Meggie is nowhere to be seen. Tears roll down my cheeks as I do several unbalanced loops of the club before giving up. She left me. She said she would never do that.
I stagger through the thinning crowds, bumping into other drunkards before I find a wall and sink down to the ground, still crying. After a while, the drunk woman from before comes up to me.