Ink Exchange by Melissa Marr

match of which was in the corner of hismouth on the inked side of his face.
    “Keenan cool with her being here?” The man pointed at her, and Leslie realized that she was still staring—in part because she couldn’t fathom how she could’ve missed seeing someone like him standing outside the door.
    “She is a friend of Aislinn’s, and there are unpleasant guests in town. The”—Niall paused and crinkled his face into a wry smile—“Aislinn is with Keenan.”
    “So are Keenan and Ash good with it or not?” the inked man asked.
    Niall clasped the man’s forearm. “She is my guest, and the club should be near empty, yes?”
    The doorman shook his head, but he opened the door and motioned to a short, muscular guy with the most incredible dreads Leslie had ever seen. They were thick and well formed, hanging like a mane around the guy’s face. For a moment, Leslie thought it was an actual mane.
    “We have a new guest ,” said the doorman as the dreadlocked guy came outside. The door thudded shut behind him.
    Dreadlocks stepped closer and sniffed.
    Niall quirked his mouth in what looked like a snarl. “ My guest.”
    “Yours?” Dreadlocks’ voice was low—harsh like he lived on cigarettes and liquor.
    Leslie opened her mouth to object to the proprietary tone in Niall’s voice, but Seth put a hand on her wrist. She glanced at him, and he shook his head.

    Dreadlocks said, “My pride is in—”
    Seth cleared his throat.
    “Go tell them,” the doorman said as he opened the door and motioned Dreadlocks back inside. “Two minutes.”
    They stood there awkwardly for a moment before the tension felt too unbearable for Leslie. “If this is a bad idea—”
    But the door had already reopened, and Seth was stepping into the shadowy building.
    “Come on.” Niall went inside.
    She went only a few steps before she stopped, unable to think what to say or do. The few people inside were all wearing strange and ornate costumes. A woman passed by with vines draped all over her arms; the vines seemed as if they flowered.
    Like the living art at the museum.
    Another couple wore feathered wigs; still others had blue faces and misshapen teeth, not like the vampire teeth the costume places sold at Halloween—but each tooth jagged, like sharks’ teeth.
    Niall stood beside her, his hand resting on her back again. In the odd blue lights of the club, his eyes looked reflective; his scar was a black slash on his skin.
    “Is it okay that we don’t have costumes, too?” she whispered.
    He laughed. “Quite. These are their everyday wear.”
    “Everyday? Are they like one of those reenactment groups? A role-playing group?”

    “Something like that.” Seth pulled out a tall chair. Like the rest of the furniture, it was a polished wood. Nothing in the low-lit club seemed to be made of anything other than wood, stone, or glass.
    Unlike the rough-looking exterior, the inside of the club was far from run-down. The floor gleamed like polished marble. Running the length of one side of the room was a long, black bar. It wasn’t wood or metal, but it looked too thick for glass. As the rotating club lights hit the bar, Leslie saw streaks of color—purples and greens—shimmering in it. She gasped.
    “Obsidian,” said a raspy voice beside her ear. “Keeps the patrons calm.”
    A waitress in a skin-suit with shimmering silver scales all over her legs and arms stood there. She circled behind Leslie and sniffed her hair.
    Leslie took a step away from her.
    Although neither Niall nor Seth had ordered yet, the waitress handed them drinks—a golden-colored wine for Niall and a microbrew for Seth.
    “No drinking age in here?” Leslie’s gaze wandered over the room. The people in their odd costumes all had drinks, though some of them looked younger than she was. Dreadlocks was with a group of four other guys with pale brown dreads. They were sharing a pitcher that looked like it was filled with the same golden wine Niall was