It was immediately obvious that the building had once been a church. But now it had a red neon sign in gothic letters and Aidan could feel the bass beat emanating from the place. Owen led the way inside. A doorman was taking money from a short line of people. To the right stairs went up, to the left they descended. “I’m paying for two,” said Owen and presented ID and money to the man. He got his hand stamped, and Aidan, admitting that he didn’t have ID, got a different stamp and a searching glance. “You can’t take the knives inside,” said the man. Aidan blinked. This hadn’t occurred to him, but it should have.

“Can I leave them with you?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“All’s well then,” said Aidan, feeling oddly cheerful, and divested himself of the two obvious daggers at his waist. He felt no need to mention the five other daggers hidden about his person.

Everything was black with mostly dim or reddish lighting. Very gothic indeed, thought Aidan. Heavy industrial music was vibrating the walls in the dance area where the stairs let out, but to the left a doorway offered escape from the deafening beat. Aidan’s sensitive ears felt abused already, so he quickly took the offered relief, going through the door and into a kind of lounge with a pool table, a couch, and an assortment of tables and chairs. A bar, presumable serving only the non-alcoholic, was against the far wall. The place wasn’t crowded, though it was fairly full. The predominant color among the patrons, as with the décor, was black. Aidan gave his own blue and black outfit an amused glance. Looks like I’ll fit in fine. And in fact he wasn’t the only one in medieval style clothing either. Nor was he the only one with fangs. One girl sitting on the couch had a pair. I am the only one with wings, but I guess I do blend in here, at least a little.

Owen made a beeline for the couch, grabbing Aidan’s hand and towing the aerian behind him. “Hey Angela,” he said, addressing the fanged girl, “meet Aidan. He just saved my life.”

The girl grinned toothily and got up. She gave Aidan a hug, which he hadn’t expected. Goths were supposed to be individualists, depressed and not into thing like hugging, weren’t they? “Nice fangs,” she said.

“Er, thanks.”

“Where’d you get them? They’re a lot better than the ones I have.”

Aidan blinked. Should he tell her they were real?

“Hey now,” said Owen with a grin, “are you telling me, Angela dear, that yours aren’t the real thing? And here I thought I knew an exotic vampire!”

“Owen,” scolded the girl.

“Yes?” he said with an expression of exaggerated innocence.

“You’re terrible.”

“Why thank you,” he replied, and curtsied.

“Here, have a seat,” offered Angela, sitting back down on the couch. Aidan gave the couch a look, considered his wings, and perched himself on the arm. Trying to sit down would just have ended up breaking feathers. “Wow,” said Angela, brushing her fingers across his wings, “the feathers are so soft. And they look so real.”

Aidan just shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but though a bit nervous, he realized he was actually enjoying himself. Pretty soon there was a little group gathered around the couch, making introductions, chattering, and just all having a good time.

“Hey,” said Angela suddenly, “my song is on. Do you dance?” she looked at Aidan.

“Sort of,” he replied.

“Then come on.” She got up and headed for the dance floor. Aidan decided to go with the flow and followed. Apparently this song was popular for the floor was full. Aidan took a moment to watch the dancing. It wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. People didn’t dance together, each danced alone. And there didn’t seem to be any set moves, just a sort of way of moving. It was flowing and despite the fast beat, it was actually slow and graceful. “What kind of dancing is that?” asked Aidan, curious.

“We call it shadow dancing,” responded Owen, having to speak right next to Aidan’s ear to be heard over the beat. “It’s easy. You want to try?”

“Sure.” Aidan stepped out onto the floor. It was odd watching the patterns that formed. Everyone moved randomly around and yet they almost never touched. Hands moved in graceful gestures, feet marked a half-time beat, and everyone seemed to flow. Hesitantly Aidan tried to follow the random pattern. Soon he was in the middle of the floor, moving independently and yet as one among the others. The music too was oddly beautiful. This song had a deep hard beat like the industrial music he’d heard earlier, but this song could only be called gothic, for there was a choir singing in a minor key, something almost joyous and yet sad in Latin. He lost himself in the music and was disappointed when at last the song came to an end. Something loud and harsh followed it and he moved off of the dance floor. He returned to the almost deserted couch, perching again on the arm.

Owen turned up again and plopped down on the couch. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, actually. I was a bit nervous at first, but I think you were right. I fit in here as well as I’m going to anywhere on this world.”

“Hey, I owe you big time. Anytime you want to come, I’ll get you in. I’m here every night this place is open.”

“Thanks Owen.”