Strange Supes

by Gray Holborn

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the hot plate and made my way back to the front, but not before I straightened my shirt and made sure there was no lipstick on my teeth. I didn’t want to give the carnivore any other reason to look down on me or The Tavern.

  He glanced at me quickly when I brought his food out. “Actually, I decided I’d rather take it home and eat. Can you just box it up and give me the check?” His eyes moved lower and the look of indifference turned into an icy glare when they reached my chest. I could feel the anger radiating off of him, so much so that his nostrils visibly flared as he clutched his steak knife with just a little bit too much fervor for my liking.

  Annoyed and confused, I looked down, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment while my pulse hammered out a tense beat. There was no obvious stain on my shirt. And my boobs? They weren’t exactly anything to write home about but still, they usually solicited a different reaction from the opposite sex. And they’d certainly never left someone looking like they wanted to bury steel in my neck.

  I stayed in the back while the guy packaged up his own food. By the time I resurfaced, steaming with a mentally-practiced diatribe on rudeness armed and ready, he was gone. And he didn’t even leave a tip. My eyes followed the back-and-forth wobble of the unused steak knife, the tip burrowed into the table of my favorite booth. The now-empty plate was cracked into multiple serrated pieces.

  Chapter Two

  I started the short walk home, sticking to the well-lit side of the street. Seattle was a bike-friendly city but with the way people drove around town, and with my coordination luck (or lack thereof), bicycles started to look a lot like little metal deathtraps. Sam didn’t like me walking home alone after sunset, but there was something about wandering around our neighborhood at night I couldn’t help but love. We were close to the city but far enough away to have a decent view of the skyline from the right altitude. And then there were back streets covered with trees, views of a lake, and the backdrop of a mountain, giving off the illusion that we weren’t in a major city at all. It was the best of both worlds.

  “Hey pretty lady, looking for a good time?”

  Normally, those were the last words a girl wanted to hear while walking home alone at night, but when they came from the mouth of a 5’2” girl with a blond and pink bob and doll-like blue eyes, the intimidation factor dropped down a notch or two.

  “Hey El.” I grinned as she pulled up next to me, her short outstretched arm was hanging out the window of her ridiculous hot pink convertible, dangling a large cup.

  “I brought you some coffee. I know going to Inferno tonight wasn’t your top choice. Especially after a long shift. Hopefully this will help make up for it?” I had a certified addiction to caffeine, as El was well aware. She also knew that I didn’t say no to coffee. Ever. Her lips bent into a frowning pout as she batted her lashes at me.

  I chuckled. “I’m not your boyfriend, or your girlfriend, or your father El—that face does nothing for me. Except make me laugh at how ridiculous it makes you look.”

  Her face contorted into an even more exaggerated frown. Ellie was twenty-three, two years older than me, but her large doe-eyes and tiny frame made her look like she was still in high school. The innocent look was made hilarious by the fact that she was a body-manipulator who could shift into a ferocious black panther.

  I rolled my eyes before giving up and hopping in the passenger seat. “Fine, fine, I accept your coffee with a side of groveling. To hell we go.” Truthfully, I didn’t mind going out, as Ellie was well aware. The club scene wasn’t normally my thing, but sometimes it was nice to let off some steam with a girls’ night out. Especially when my nerves were all jumbled from the mystery supe. I took a sip of coffee before I studied her from the side of my eye. “By the way, I saw a supe at The Tavern tonight. He was kind of an asshole though—” I paused a beat, savoring the taste of late-night caffeine. “Actually, not kind of. Definitely an asshole.”

  “More of them are assholes than not, so I’m not surprised.” Ellie’s brows turned down while she drove. She was silent for a while, to the point I wasn’t sure she’d say anything more. “What kind, feeder or manipulator?”

  Energy users could either feed off of other’s energy or manipulate energy in a very specific way. For the most part it was genetic. Since I didn’t inherit Sam’s persuasion-manipulation and could somehow see energy signatures, I was a bit of an anomaly.

  “Golden glow, so I’m assuming manipulator. He seemed really powerful though. Like the most intense aura I’ve seen. Then again, it could just be relative. Yours and Sam’s glows have all but become invisible to me.”

  “That’s odd.” She glanced over to me briefly before pulling into our driveway. “And Sam didn’t recognize him?” I shook my head. I wasn’t surprised though; as far as I was aware, Ellie was the only supe Sam knew. “And he didn’t seem interested in you or anything, right? You didn’t mention anything about your ability to sense supes?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, obviously the first thing I did was tell the rude stranger that I could identify the silver and gold glows of feeders and manipulators.” El had only been telling me since the day I met her to keep my ability to myself. No one outside of her and Sam had any idea. Not that I got what the big deal was. Sam’s mind-manipulation seemed way more threatening than letting someone know they lit up like Tinkerbell. And Ellie could literally tear someone apart with her bare paws if she wanted to.

  “Well, just keep an eye out. If you see him around again, try and get someone else to take your table.” Unlike Sam, El grew up on the other side of the Veil so she knew more about supes than she let on. Still, she avoided them like the plague. Well, except for Sam—and even then, it took her a long while to warm up to him and a full three years before she agreed to move in with us. She refused to talk about her past, and denied her aversion to supes anytime I brought it up. I had a feeling she had a bad experience with a seduction-feeder or something—they had a habit of breaking hearts. It was the only topic off the table. And I mean only. The girl could wax lyrical about her bodily fluids like no one I’d ever met, but the second someone brought up supes, she turned mute.

  We ran inside for a quick change. If I had it my way, I’d happily spend life in combat boots, jeans, and oversized sweaters. And I was lucky that in Seattle hobo chic was appreciated. But on nights we went out, El put her foot down to some extent.

  At least she didn’t make me think about it too much. When I walked into my room, she had an outfit already laid out for me: dark pants, a stylish black tank top, and a pair of ankle boots. It was an updated version of my usual style. Simple and comfortable. Especially compared to her dark blue dress and pink stilettos. She’d tried to force me into a pair of those years ago, but gave up. Apparently it wasn’t worth my whining. I flipped my necklace onto the outside of my top and she winked at me before flashing her matching black ring. It was the sister to the pendant she’d given me years ago. Who said people outgrow friendship bracelets?

  Half an hour later our Lyft pulled up to Inferno and we made the usual run from the car to the line, trying to expose ourselves to the cold air as little as possible. There was a line circling around the building, but El had a way with bouncers. She didn’t even need to say anything. She just gave the guy one of her patented stares, mixed with a cheeky grin and wink. Every time I was certain it wouldn’t work and every time I was wrong. This was no exception.

  Muscles McGee smiled and opened the door, eyes only for El and the deep V of her dress. Who needed persuasion-manipulation when you had boobs? I looked back, smirking at the guy who clearly thought he stood a chance with her—

  And then I missed the doorway and banged my head into the window next to it.

  The voices that had started to angrily protest El’s ability to cut the line quickly morphed into laughter. At least I saved Muscles from having to deal with a tense crowd after we left. That’s right, totally did that on purpose. Always the philanthropist.


  El stood in front of me, propping herself up with one hand on the wall as she crumbled with laughter. “You left a makeup imprint of your forehead on the window, Dess.” Tears swam in her eyes, making them look even bigger than usual.

  I rubbed away the milky-brown foundation smudge, begging my body to stop blushing while silently promising myself to go easier on the face makeup next time. Or to at least to pay attention to where I was walking. Turning, I bowed to Muscles McGee and the crowd, then grabbed El’s arm and walked through the doorway.

  The club was packed. The open-concept room had an industrial-chic vibe to it with exposed beams and natural wood mixed with expensive marbling and metals. It was a sophisticated, more stylized version of The Tavern, slightly better suited for big-city nightlife and Seattle’s yuppie population. Where Sam’s place often looked like it was falling apart and lived in, Inferno intentionally integrated grunge into its aesthetic. An elevated platform was in the center of the dance floor. During weeknights it was usually used for local bands, but tonight there was a tattooed DJ with blue hair rocking out. His movements were erratic, but he somehow hit every beat with precision. Ellie pulled me across the floor (she was deceptively strong) and managed to weasel her way to the bar. She threw on her classic smile and I counted the seconds until the busty, tattooed bartender made her way over. El was almost always served first at the bar.

  I watched as the bartender’s eyes immediately swept past me and then drank in El.

  “What can I get you, hun?” she asked, her face lit up by a flirtatious grin.

  I bit back a laugh as I watched Ellie’s blush deepen out of the corner of my eye.

  El shoved me lightly, smiling sheepishly at the pretty bartender. “Two bourbons please. Neat.”

  “And a beer,” I added.

  El was on a new kick. According to her, bourbon was a classy drink, but an acquired taste. So for the last two months, it’s all she would order us at bars, claiming it helped round out our sophisticated style. Personally, I wasn’t exactly sure when we were going to ‘acquire’ the taste or what part of our style could be deemed sophisticated, tonight or any night. Bourbon still made me gag, and there was no way I could drink it gracefully without a chaser. Which I’m pretty sure cancelled out the whole sophistication thing in the first place. El was having more success with the experiment. We grabbed our drinks and made our way to a surprisingly open table; finding one in this place on a Friday night was in and of itself an amazing feat.

  “So, no Michael this weekend?” She tried to infuse her voice with nonchalance, but I could feel her fishing for a status update. I’d met Michael a couple of months ago. At first, we hung out a few times just as friends, but the dynamic had been slowly evolving over the last month or so.

  “He’s at a conference until Sunday I think.” I absentmindedly stirred my bourbon with a tiny straw, willing it to transform into almost anything else.

  “Still, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him lately. Is he taking you off the market?” She winked, sipping her bourbon with a feigned appreciation.

  El was all about romance and seemed to fall in love every other week. My greatest love affair was between myself and mozzarella sticks. She’d met Michael a few times and while she was supportive, I knew she didn’t get what I saw in him. Most nights El fell asleep with a trashy novel opened on her bed and she shuffled through love interests quickly enough that I never bothered to learn their names. Michael was a cute med student, but if he wasn’t making grand romantic gestures or fighting off a zombie apocalypse, El wasn’t going to be impressed.

  It didn’t take long for El to get swept up by some guy, so I made my way back to the bar for a water. And that’s when I saw a bright silvery glow. Was there some weird supernatural convention in town? Two in one night was insane.

  He was dancing with a small group of guys and girls, and judging by the pure adoration on their faces I could tell he must be a seduction-feeder. Not that I could blame them for fawning all over him. His skin was a light brown and he had just enough of a five o’clock shadow to make him look rugged but not unkempt. Dark hair made his warm brown eyes stand out. The laughter and arrogance behind his eyes made it clear that he was aware of the effect he had on the three women gyrating around him. To be honest, he probably would have a similar effect even without the seduction-feeding. After a few moments, he caught my eye and grinned.

  And if he wasn’t confident already, busting me staring at him would certainly help. While I stood there blushing, trying to avoid his eye contact again, he disengaged from the group when the song ended and made his way over to me.

  “Jax.” He leaned casually against the bar and looked up at me through his ridiculously long lashes. I silently groaned. That was one of the many frustrating things about the world—even though men couldn’t care less about them, they always seemed genetically gifted with the longest and thickest camel lashes. It was at least thirty seconds before I realized that I was staring again and hadn’t responded to him.

  “Sorry, what?” My voice was raspy, like a thirteen-year-old boy.

  “My name. It’s Jax. What’s yours?” He quirked the right side of his mouth up, waiting for me to respond, mirth dancing behind his eyes.

  “Odessa. But everyone usually calls me Dess or Desi. Or sometimes Black. That’s my last name.” Why couldn’t I shut up? I knew this guy was basically an incubus, you’d think that would prepare me enough to prevent me from stumbling all over my words like an idiot. It didn’t. Also, why did I think it was a good idea to give him my real name?

  He started chuckling at me while I babbled, sipping his drink. “You’re adorable, Desi-girl, how bout a dance?” I started to shake my head no, but he interrupted the rejection by grabbing my hand and lightly pulling me to the floor. A slight frown pulled his lips down when I resisted.

  “I’m good here, but thanks.” Jax was cute, but I knew how dangerous feeders were. Even if they seemed incapable of feeding from my energy, El warned me to be constantly vigilant. When I noticed a boredom-feeder in our history class two years ago, she had us drop the class almost immediately, opting for a horribly confusing physics lab instead. Which meant feeders must really be on the avoid-at-all-costs list. Personally, I would’ve been okay with some supe stealing away my boredom—or at least making an attempt—since it wasn’t like he could incite any more than my history professor already induced. He seemed harmless. Jax did not.

  I turned away from him, scanning the crowd for El. If she knew a supe was here, she’d want to leave ASAP. But Jax didn’t let go of my hand and he used his other one to lightly shift my face in his direction. He was wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Somehow he was not sweating like crazy—was that a supernatural thing? And why did he smell so good? Like vanilla and musk. Not that I really knew what musk smelled like, but if I had to guess, it smelled like him. I could feel my heart beating faster, but out of fear, not out of the lust he was probably used to generating. His brown eyes darted to my lips and moved slowly up to my eyes, a cocky smirk spreading across his face—he was completely aware of the effect he was having on me, if not the true nature of it. Were all supernaturals this smug?

  The heat in his gaze turned slowly to confusion, and then frustration—an almost constipated look taking over his face.

  And that’s when I started cracking up.

  I used his momentary bewilderment to my advantage, pulled my hand out of his, and crossed my arms. “What’s the matter big guy, not used to a little rejection?” I tried to be smooth and badass, but I knew the laughter in my voice wasn’t fooling anybody.

  He squared his shoulders, focusing all of his attention on me. I could feel the energy he was trying to pull from me filter around the atmosphere, but to no effect. A swarm of people were inching closer and closer to him though, eager to take my spot in the offered dance.

  After a moment, he broke his concentration and his face lit up with a perfectly blinding smile.
“You know what I am.” It wasn’t a question. He tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement, but I could feel the laughter bubbling in his chest. “But what are you? I’ve never been unable to pull before.”

  While it was fun goading him, the smarter option would be to leave. And I didn’t exactly have an answer for him anyway. The crowd of admirers had paired up and started practically mauling each other as they gyrated in beat to the music. I never understood the whole club thing. I turned around, ready to ditch Jax and earnestly look for El when I found him blocking my path again. I jumped back, startled.

  And then I jumped back even more and screamed when a line of fire materialized between us. Jax’s eyes lit up in what looked like a combination of fear and intrigue.

  “A fire-manipulator, then?” Jax asked.

  My mouth dropped open when I looked up from the fire and found Jax studying me. I wasn’t doing this. Shrill screams echoed around me.

  I turned to the right, following the line of flames as they climbed farther towards the ceiling, until my eyes fell on a bright golden glow emanating from a beautiful, dark-haired and caramel-skinned girl only a few feet away. Her eyes blazed as she glared in Jax’s direction. I watched as the glow of embers reflected in the dark black of her eyes and highlighted the gold ring in her nose. She was dressed in a tight black spandex-like outfit. Other than the ferocious stance that set her at odds with the muffled, fearful screams of everyone around us, she fit in perfectly with the young clubbing crowd.

  Three supes in one night. Not counting El and Sam, that was more than I’d come across in my whole life. All at once the fire alarm and neighboring screams defeated the blue-haired dj’s static beats as water sprinkled from the ceiling. I found myself briefly hoping the water wouldn’t ruin his expensive equipment when a stampede of horny twenty-somethings knocked me to the ground as they raced each other for the door.

  My head snapped in the direction of a new heat source and I watched as fire engulfed the beautifully-distressed bar. This was so not the way girls’ night was supposed to go. And speaking of, where the hell was El?