Nightlife by Brian Hodge Read Free Book Online Page A

perfect clarity . . . then gone again.
    “Erik?” he muttered.
    Thoughts were racing, mach speed, mental fiberoptics. He felt his nose gush anew, wiped it again. Breath was coming hotter, faster.
    He glanced back at the bathroom door to see what had become of the others. A moment later, Mendoza and Lupo emerged, quick-stepping with precious little left of the cool they had entered with a half hour ago. Disappearing into the crowd, the night.
    Trent. Where was Trent?
    “Erik,” he said again, louder.
    The floor was a chasm, the chasm eternal. He clung to the chrome railing with sweating hands. Limbs, joints—everything was fire, and jelly.
    Someone back at the table must have pointed him out. He saw the back of Erik’s head suddenly become his face, and then Erik was moving down the steps, face pinched in sudden concern.
    “What is it, man?” Erik said. “You look terrible.”
    “I don’t feel so good. Get me out of here.” His voice barely seemed his own anymore.
    “Yeah, sure. Gimme a minute.” Erik turned his back a moment.
    “Now, Erik.”
    The feeling was coming in out of nowhere and feeding on itself, and he was helpless before it. A claustrophobic paranoia that could either turn him into a god or crush him beneath its heel.
    Trent stumbled into view, staggering from the bathroom door. Stringers of green mucus dangled from his nose. He absently wiped them away after noticing someone look at him aghast and give him a wide berth. Trent was reeling, face a shell-shocked blank—and then it was overtaken by a sickened smile.
    Justin tugged at Erik’s sleeve. No good, still talking with Angel. April looked their way from the background, and he didn’t want her to see him like this. He turned away.
    Trent was dancing, his body electric at the edge of the dance floor. Prancing, preening. Seemingly inventing his own dance on the spot. He looked ridiculous.
    “Erik, get me out of here.”
    Trent danced, faster and faster. With total abandon. Faster. For reasons beyond comprehension, Justin felt his own heart quicken, knew somehow that its rate synced with Trent’s. His breath was close to hyperventilation. The claustrophobia deepened, and all at once he had the sensation of plummeting down an elevator shaft.
    The dancing, faster still . . .
    Falling, falling . . .
    Toward . . . something. Something buried, forgotten for aeons.
    Trent staggered into a pillar supporting a lighting arrangement. Looked Justin’s way. Their eyes meeting.
    And Trent’s face rippled.
    Justin stared dumbstruck as it happened. Trent’s mouth opened as his cheeks stretched and sprouted downy fur. Trent’s teeth, folding back into his mouth, blood weeping from the gums, then gushing as they split with the rows of emerging new teeth, sharp and carnivorous. Entire head, elongating slightly forward, nose flattening into an inverted pink triangle. Cupped ears standing out from his head. Ringed spots darkening across the lighter fur.
    His eyes, staring, yellowing, nothing but huge irises, pupils.
    The moment was a juggernaut, unstoppable. Within the unfolding labyrinth of Justin’s mind and soul, he could feel the beating of a kindred heart. A longing to do the same, a desire that at once seduced and repelled. It felt like aeons of evolution regressed and done away with, then tipped with a burning fuse.
    Ready to detonate.
    I don’t want this I DON’T WANT THIS—
    Trent’s hands had shortened and fattened into paws, claws curving outward, predatory tools ready for use. While the beat went on, while all around him the dancers rocked and rolled.
    Justin’s inner soulstorm, falling down the shaft toward primeval bottom.
    Ready to detonate.
    “Erik, if you don’t get me out of here, I’m gonna die!”
    Justin doubled over suddenly and retched everything into the floor, onto Erik’s shoes, just as Trent whirled and disappeared into the heaving throng. The lights switched from pulsing colors to violently rapid strobes, and as Erik