Thicker Than Water by Carla Jablonski

Hecate—the room tilted again and she clutched the bar. All better.
    â€œSure!” Hecate said. “It doesn’t pay a lot, but you get a decent discount and everyone drops off their flyers there, so you always know what’s going on.”
    â€œDoes Damon go there?” Kia asked.
    â€œYeah, he comes in sometimes.” Hecate smiled. “Other cute guys too.”
    Kia looked around the room. They were all so beautiful. So intense. It was hard to imagine there was any world other than this dark place, this time set apart from everything and everyone else. This place where even death was not permanent, but a transition to another realm.
    A woman moaned nearby and Kia turned to see a man in a long cloak biting her on the neck. The woman’s head was thrown back, but Kia could see the rapturous expression on her face. On her other side, a girl about Kia’s age was nibbling on a guy’s wrist; each had their eyes closed in extraordinary concentration.
    â€œMan, I think I need to go,” Hecate said, wobbling a little. “You ready?”
    Kia nodded. They wove through the crowd, past gleaming fangs and necks being offered and taken. A few people nodded at Kia and she realized they had probably noticed Damon paying attention to her. A gaunt man with long stringy hair grabbed Kia’s wrist. “You are one of us now,” he whispered hoarsely.
    She slipped out of his grasp and followed Hecate outside. She felt assaulted by the outside world, by the rushing cars and the crowded buildings. They all seemed out of place—or maybe she was the one who didn’t fit aboveground. The club was like a secret hideout, a place where she belonged.
    â€œDo you—” Kia hesitated, not wanting to seem naive. “Do you think any of those people are real vampires?” As the words came out of her mouth, she knew how stupid they sounded. But she couldn’t help it—everything that had happened in the last two nights had seemed completely real to her, no matter how many times she told herself it couldn’t be.
    But Hecate didn’t laugh. She just shrugged. “Who can tell?” she said, weaving a little as she walked. “Maybe it’s all about belief. Besides, if it looks like a vampire and acts like a vampire, isn’t that enough?”
    Maybe, Kia thought, stepping over a broken bottle. She thought about what Carol had said that time, about the laws of physics. Belief. Maybe that was all anyone needed.

SEVEN
    K ia surfaced painfully from a groggy sleep to a room that was much too bright. Her temples pounded and her mouth felt as if she’d been chewing on socks. She squinted, saw the room spin, shut her eyes, and covered her face with her sheet.
    She lay perfectly still, trying to hold back the whirlies, and thought about the night before. Maybe it was all the alcohol, but she couldn’t remember feeling that light, that relaxed, that fully alive in a long time. And it wasn’t just Damon—it was the whole thing. The dancing, the music, the costumes, the way she felt in her vampire attire. Bold, and proud, and as if anything she did was all right—with herself and with everyone there.
    And Damon.
    Kia rolled over and regretted it. She put her hand on her night table to steady herself and giggled. She knew it was just a hangover, but the idea that simply thinking about Damon set her spinning just seemed so ... right.
    She licked her dry lips and wished water wasn’t so far away. Hecate seemed to think he was into me, she thought, taking in a long, slow breath.
    It was hard for her to believe. A guy that hot—an older guy, a DJ, an older, vampire DJ with a following—was into her. Kia grinned. Even if they never went out, never kissed, never did anything more than have that one incredible encounter last night, knowing that she had grabbed his attention was enough.
    Well ... maybe one kiss would be good. Kia smiled again and