Lupus

The night was calling to me. I tasted metal in the back of my mouth, between my teeth. I knew by now to watch and obey the signs. I knew what was going to happen, with the night so hungry for me. But I couldn’t stop it. And I didn’t care.
I waited until the house fell silent before pulling off my bed sheets. I climbed out of bed, warm in my nightdress, and opened the bedroom window. The moon hung brightly in the deep blue sky, full of temptation. The night air fuelled the blood lust that rose from my heart. Two storeys up, yet I knew I had to get out. I began to climb, silent in the silvery moonlight.
I made my way to the Icarus Club, the seediest place in town, the place where people came to forget they were people. Where the half-breeds and misfits met. Two charred black wings marked the entrance above the discoloured metal door. The doorman, guardian of the Icarus, sat inside, waiting for the renegade revellers to knock. He always let me in for free. The walls of the club were black; black paint separated by shafts of steel, and it felt like the entire vicinity was miles underground, even though it was only the dance floor that dipped below street level.
Inside the club, I could already taste sweat. The heat of the dance floor below, the hypnotic rhythm of the drums’ beat - they were already pulling me downwards. I made my way down the iron staircase onto the heaving dance floor. It seemed as though throng after throng of people parted to let me walk by, the heat of their golden bodies flickering before my eyes. The wolf-man, fanged jaw dripping with desire, inhaled heavily as I passed. The hook-armed toothless jezebel, talking to the tourist; the one-eyed midget, waist high to those around him; the muscle-clad man, overprotective of his diamond tooth; they all let me pass unchallenged, me the small girl with the midnight hair, half-dressed and sleepwalking. They called me ‘Succubus’ behind my back, in whispers, but the Icarus Club was the place for lost souls, for dispassionate detachment and neutrality. Home to the unaccepted, where amongst the abnormalities and the beasts, for one night each lunar month, I belonged.
I found my place on the dance floor, and let the music wash over me. Beat after beat, throb after throb, I lost myself in dance. My body groaned to the sound of the mesmerising drums. As the heat rose around me, my hair stuck to my face and my heart raged inside my chest. The blood-lust rose again along with the temperature, encouraged by the beat that was now in sync with my heart itself. The heat was intense, and it was coming from within as well as from around me. I was flammable. I scratched myself, across my arms and legs, across my chest, trying to open the skin to let out the heat, the beat constantly swarming inside my head and blurring my vision. The noise, the heat, the blood-lust, it all made me drunk, no liquor could have this effect. I was lost and hot, dripping with sweat, my skin marked with blood red lacerations. And that’s when I felt him touch me.
A stranger, a tourist no doubt; the regulars knew better. His finger was pressed against my exposed shoulder. It took me a second to realise that he was tracing the scratch mark I had made on myself. He turned rock at the possibilities it had conjured in his narrow little mind. His finger on my skin sent a current through my entire body. The blood-lust had found its prey. My eyes wide, child-like, I pulled him close to my small frame. We danced, his body against mine, my stomach draining of blood as he pressed himself against my thigh. I tossed my head back and allowed him to taste me. Teasing him that he was in control. I took him by the hand and dragged him towards the exit. Once again the sea of revellers parted for me. The hook-armed woman nodded to me as I passed. I lowered my eyes in acknowledgement and led my prey up the warm metal staircase to the front doors, out into the warm night’s air.
I burned with hunger. A hunger that no amount of water or food could quench. I needed to have him, to consume him totally, body and flesh and mind and spirit and soul. I dragged him to the alley and tore at his clothes, revealing the glistening sheen of ripped muscles, hair and sweat. He looked at me, frightened, encouraging. He saw the yellow in my eyes, and the blood lust. I sank to my knees and tasted his sweat with my tongue. He smiled, sensing my excitement, and undid his trousers. I pushed him against the rough brick wall and climbed onto him. The blood rose once more inside me, up into my throat, my head, clouding my eyes. I was no longer in control. My mind disengaged; it was my heart and body that ruled now, riding the wave of the blood-lust, absorbing the prey between my thighs. He came suddenly, and began to struggle to free himself. I felt the heat quickly draining from my face, from my neck, and reluctantly opened my eyes for what seemed like the first time since I had closed them to go to sleep back in my bedroom in my grandmother’s house.
I was awake now, cold in the early morning light, looking into the face of a stranger, sweated, bloodied, satisfied. I was not satisfied, but nor was I under the influence of the intoxicating rhythms of the heat and the moon. I was sober and shivering. I released the man from the wall, from between my thighs, and examined the imprint that the wall had left on the palms of my hands, my knees, my calves. The man made to speak, but I silenced him quickly with a stare. Perhaps he finally realised how young I looked, for now he too looked scared, sober. Perhaps he had always looked like that, but I hadn’t noticed before. I rearranged my nightdress, now slightly torn and damp. The man began to fasten his clothing. I was no longer burning and hungry. I was cold and sick to my stomach. I wanted to go home.
“Maybe we can do this again –“ the man began. I lifted my head suddenly, the yellow in my eyes still visible to the naked eye, and glowing. I snarled. He disappeared into the night as quickly as he came. I sat in the alley as it began to rain, the water stinging the scratches on my skin. I shivered, cold and alone, as above me, the moon finally succumbed to the dawn.