Page 31 of Never Say Die
“Icing on the cake,” Aiden said and walked into the bathroom. He opened his mouth, pushed his fingers against blunt canines, and tugged at his eyelids, searching for demonic-adjacent evidence. He saw Shay watching him intently in the mirror. “Lookin’ pretty human to me, but I’ll let you know if I get the sudden urge to bite a chunk out of your neck.”
Shay laughed, sarcastically, and threw a shoe at him.
Aiden kicked the bathroom door shut. Secretly, he crossed his fingers and hoped for fangs.
The speedway roared. Vendors lined the area to the left ofthe stage, selling memorabilia, greasy food, cold beer, and watered-down cocktails. Knight’s Blood had played in similar, sweeping venues. The kind reserved for Metallica, Prince, Dio, and Beyoncé. But Aiden had never seen their name at the top of the flyer, or their logo printed on t-shirts and snapbacks at the giant headliner merch-booth. They’d always played under the scorching mid-afternoon sun, staring at a lackluster crowd and a lazy mosh-pit. Tonight, the moon rose steadily, darkness cloaked the repurposed racetrack, and Knight’s Blood listened to their introduction ring loudly through the open-air arena.
Shay snorted a bump of coke from the hollow of his thumb, winced and hissed, and pressed his thumb against his nostril. “Fuck, Dylan. This is good shit, but damn. Little strong, huh?”
“It’s fifty-fifty, coke and ice,” Dylan said.
Georgia swatted Dylan on the back of the head, and said, “Nuh-uh, we don’t mess around with meth, man. You know better.”
Aiden snorted a bump from the back of his hand. Ouch, yeah.Wow. “Calm down, Georgia. We’ll live.” He dumped another white mound between his knuckles and inhaled. “We’re doin’ an encore tonight, yeah?”
“Holy Diver,” Shay said, nodding.
Georgia adjusted the straps on her pleather bralette. “All right, we ready?”
They walked to their designated stations, shielded by a red curtain rippling at the edge of the stage. Aiden rolled his shoulder until the guitar strap fit comfortably. Their logo flashed, strobing as their introduction ended, fading into the epic sound of swords clashing, hooves clopping, soldiers shouting. Adrenaline kicked his heart into gear. The drugs did, too. Sharpening his gaze, numbing his throat. Déjà vu fluttered through him, and everything, all at once, shifted fromthentonow, impossible to possible, past to present. Shay glanced atAiden, wrapped his hand around the silver microphone and tugged it toward his mouth. His growling laughter echoed, and the crowd raged.
“Good evening, Las Vegas,” Shay rasped, too sexy and too confident. He winked at Aiden, confidently, like adick.
Aiden steered his flushed face toward the rapidly falling curtain. He hit the strings on his guitar and widened his stance, jumping into the first song of the night: Into the Wild. The audience stretched on and on, howling and cheering as Knight’s Blood played. For the first time since Shay had re-joined the group, their stage presence as a unit evolved. It felt like they were seventeen, chugging beers on a makeshift stage. Aiden remembered those days. Falling asleep with his temple propped on Dylan’s shoulder before their three o’clock set. Writing songs with Georgia in semi-dry storm drains and stealing malt beer from the grocery store. Sitting cross-legged on Shay Bennet’s bed and watching the sun rise through his window, still carrying smoke and hope on their clothes, sayingone day we’ll play in Amsterdam and Australia and Tokyo,and Shay believing him.
Shay detached the mic from the stand, tossed it in the air and caught it, holding it in front of Aiden’s mouth. His breath hit Aiden’s chin, and his blue eyes gave way to beastly black. He playfully snapped his teeth at Aiden’s throat, and Aiden couldn’t fight the laughter tumbling over his lips, the euphoria exploding in his chest, the unadulterated joy sparking in his fingertips as he pinched the guitar pick. He’d waited years for this night, this show, these sounds—lyrics shouted from a boisterous crowd, finding home with his bandmates again, carving their legacy into history.
Shay went to his knees in front of the gate separating the pit from the stage, belting out the last words of Glory. He curled his fingers at the crowd, beckoning them, and when he held hishead back to scream, his fingernails sharpened into claws, there and gone, like a shadow darting along his body.
As the last note lingered, Georgia, Dylan, Shay, and Aiden loped into the wing. Stage-crew held water bottles, beers, and sweat rags, commending them for their performance. Aiden chugged one beer, tossed the can, then grabbed another.
Shay snatched the beer from him and tapped his chin. “Nice job,” he said, panting, and drained the can.
Georgia shot Aiden a questioning look. She gestured loosely to her chin and listed her head.
Aiden, truly, didn’t fucking know. He shrugged. “Thanks, yeah. We killed it tonight, guys.”
“Sure fuckin’ did,” Dylan said, and swatted Aiden on the back.
The crowd applauded, whistled, and cheered. Knight’s Blood resumed their positions on stage for the encore. Waved, bowed, and laughed once the overhead lights turned on, signaling the end of the show, and bounced off each other as they walked to the dressing room to change before their signing.
Aiden peeled away his sweaty ripped black tank and replaced it with another equally ripped gray tank. He reapplied deodorant and took out his white contact lenses, revealing the round, brown line hugging his blown pupils. Thumbed smudged liner off of his eyelid, and thought,Shay killed a woman last night.He stared at his reflection and waited for a pit to open in his stomach.Shay almost killed me last night.
Georgia followed Dylan through the door, tossing a quick, “Jake will kill us if we’re late,” over her shoulder.
Aiden nodded. As the trailer door clicked shut, he was transported to the parking garage, watching that heavy, bathroom door slam and shake after Shay had tossed him out.
“Let’s go,” Shay said, and nudged him with his elbow.
He touched two fingers to the beige medical tape stuck to hisneck. What did it make him to want what Shay had? Death, sacrifice, murder,change. What did Aiden become for wishing he’d drowned and resurfaced? He remembered Shay’s warm, wet mouth on his throat, pulling blood from him, and craved knowing, experiencing, understanding whatthatfelt like. Taking someone apart. Consuming life.
“Aiden,” Shay said, louder.
“What?Jesus, okay. I’ll be right there.”
Shay shifted his gaze to the medical tape. “You’re jumpy tonight.”
“Can you blame me?”
