“This is your place?” I hollered over the blaring house music in the densely packed sardine can of a club.

  “That's what the sign says.” Denaux yelled back, pointing upwards to a bubbly neon sign illuminating 'Denaux's Place' and 'The Cat's Cradle' underneath it. “So the bad guys know where to find me!” He laughed riotously, loud enough to cut through the music and general rabble, as we slithered past the sweaty droves of young socials dancing and grinding up against each other in jubilant revelry.

  I raised a hand up to block the colored lights painting the grungy canvas all around us and followed Denaux to a back room, down some steps, and into a basement. It was dirty and disorganized, holding a yellow stained cot, an old dingy wardrobe, and a dusty table, beside a dilapidated old chest freezer which sat humming quietly above the cracked concrete floor.

  “It's not much, but...” Denaux started up, “well, it's not much, that's it,” he chuckled.

  “Why can't I go home?”

  “Chère, you ain't any idea where home is right now, don't be rude,” Denaux hissed, his silhouette disappearing behind a ripped french curtain, as he fished out a bundle of items, re-appearing with a sparkly bedazzled red dress that had tears and snags down its sides.

  I wasn't sure if it was intentional, or not, but stylish, I was certainly not saying.

  “Now I know you're born again,” Denaux started up, “tossing the dress on a small throw-up colored couch nearby, “but you'll want to wash that dead off you in the river,” he followed up flipping on a light ina small bathroom and shower. “The stench of the rot doesn't come off just like that. I'll prepare an outfit for you, in the meantime. Come up for a drink after and we can talk.”

  After Denaux returned to the world of thumping bass that rained down upon the walls all around me, I sat on the cot for a moment, to collect myself, its strained coils weeping with each bit of applied pressure. What was the world I now lived in? 'Lived'. What am I now? Am I even alive in any sense? I still feel pain, and emotion, but it was different. I felt power too, brimming with it. Unsure of how to use it..but what else had I lost besides my memory? Did I have a family? Who was I? What was I?

  Under the weak stream in the shower, I washed away the dirt and grime, the death. Even being frigid, it felt so warm and comforting. I slowly cleansed myself, my hands running over the course carvings that zigzagged up my wrists and arms. Etchings of a past never to be forgotten. The Scars still remained unfamiliar though. What had I done to myself? And why? Maybe I'd know some day...and forgive myself for them.

  At the risk of untimely imprudence, I wondered about the black blood from earlier. Spotting an old razor by the yellow curtain, I hesitated, grabbing it before nicking my finger. The pain evaporated quickly, as an ooze of that familiar black blood pooled, almost like a mossy infection, crusty, poisoned, before I washed it away. Something coursed through my body, but was it still humanity? What type of monster had I become?

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  After toweling off, I examined my bruised throat in the mirror, outlines of dark fingerprints lingered around my neck. I swallowed hard at the thought of learning more about my even immediate past.

  Noticing the eclectic outfit that had been procured, I popped on a black lace collar, and suited up to find Denaux.

  The crowd watched me with a lascivious intent, as I slipped through, which made me feel at least a little bit better about being a few hours removed from the ground. I worked my way to the bar to find a neon green pixie cut weaving back and forth behind a line of heads waiting at the local watering hole.

  The petite young woman behind the bar met my eyes, flagging me over once she spotted me, her black studded leather jingling as she served darkened pints and cocktails.

  “Get your hot ass over here!” She called out.

  “Me?” I mouthed, pointing to myself incredulously.

  “Who else?” She cut back, as I sidled up to the sticky bar. “Name's Taniya,” she said, sliding a murky drink to someone down the end of the bar. “Denaux had to take care of something for a little bit, but he'll be back."

  I nodded, taking things in silently.

  “Whatchya having?” She wiped her hands on a grimy off-white hand towel, in waiting.

  “Uh,” I stalled in thought, “what do you recommend?”

  “For your kind...a blackout, it hits right.”

  She must know, I thought. “What's that?”

  Taniya started pouring from numerous different hard liqueur bottles into a Collins glass. “A little bit of everything,” she grinned, several lip rings coalescing as she slid it towards me.

  I grabbed it, eyeing the concoction tentatively, before taking a sip. It hit me powerfully. Almost felt tipsy with one swig.

  “It slaps, huh?” She smiled.

  I nodded, letting my hard lined lips relax for the first time in a while.

  “A blackout...” a gravely voice cut in from beside me. A gorgeous man with a tight beard and darkly manicured hair entered my view. He looked like a god. Chiseled from marble in a tightly fitting pair of gray slacks and sporting a black button down, with sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

  I couldn't tell if the drink was hitting, or if I still could feel more things than I ever thought possible again.

  “Sounds dangerous,” the man continued, sharing a grin. “I'll have what she's having,” he added with a wink, leaning carelessly against the bar.

  I tried to turn away from his seductive eyes, but found it difficult to do so without being sucked in by them, forcing me to study him more fully.

  “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” He offered, while Taniya went toff to make his drink and take other orders, with a bemused look plastered across her face.

  “Annabelle,” I said, my defenses and inhibitions lowering. “And you?”

  The drink rifled down along the bar to his hand, which he caught without even looking. I could see Taniya's shocked expression from a distance as well, her almost toppling over in a mix of laughter and pure unadulterated surprise.

  “Isaac,” he said, raising the glass to his lips.

  Horror trickled down into my eyes as I noticed the familiar dangling of a the crested bracelet from earlier in the night, that same script 'b' seated inside.

  Isaac's expression turned dark, and gravely serious, “Let's make this a night to remember.”