Vanity Among Worms
Every influencer said all the hot guys would be there and Cletus hadn’t left his house to go out in months. Relocating to a new city hadn’t been as easy as he thought. Beautiful people and beautiful weather coupled with a whopping heap of self-hate left much to be desired. The fresh, reinvigorating life he sought out hadn’t shown up yet. All his new friendships felt hollow and all the ones he’d left behind had grown in a direction he couldn’t follow.
So right about now, Cletus was willing to try anything. Even a seedy nightclub offering up some bizarre unique magical experience.
Honestly, he just needed to feel wanted.
The place still smelled like an old warehouse no matter how much the nightclub pretended otherwise. They didn’t check him for any curse marks or elder relics at the door, but Cletus imagined the bouncers had more than enough power to put down anyone looking to cause trouble. Most mages in this city didn’t pack much of a punch anyway, all their power turned inward to vanity. Something he couldn’t do.
Who would start trouble here anyway? The heat, the half-naked men chiseled by vanity magic and drugs dancing against each other, the hypnotic thrum of the music. It was the closest he had felt to being intoxicated since running away from Albany and Donnie.
Worms, pulsing and purple, littered the dance floor. He looked down once and the writhing mass nearly nauseated him so he kept his focus ahead. The crunching against his bare feet became more tolerable the further he ventured into the club. He breathed deeply and focused on absorbing the secret of this place.
The pink bloom wafting from the crushed worms emitted a feeling of euphoria. Cletus’s body tingled, his blood rushed and every touch of skin against his own felt rapturous. The debilitating loneliness lifted and confidence seeped into his bones. Music seduced him into dancing with abandon. He barely felt or heard the crunch beneath his feet. Every breath brought a new level of sensation. Hungering for more, he went deeper into the club’s crowd. Closer to bodies and further away from the gnawing lack of touch that came with journeying to new places.
After one particularly deep inhalation, he locked eyes with a necromancer—the white lipstick gave it away. He had a nose ring that glistened almost as much as the sweat on his lean torso; his dark brown skin that shimmered from the little moonlight entering the warehouse. He smiled ravenously as Cletus approached.
“You’re new here aren’t you?” the necromancer asked loud enough to be barely heard over the music. His voice made Cletus shiver. The necromancer’s slender finger ran down his chest. “I always pick out the new ones. What’s your name?”
Perpetual bliss and sensation made him feel foolish. Swallowing hard, his blood rising even more, he fought against his embarrassment to say, “Cletus.”
“Clee—” the necromancer pushed up against him, letting him know he shared his mutual excitement and leaned into his ear, “—tus. I like it.”
Cletus bit his lip to keep from groaning. “What’s yours?”
“Does it matter? I’ll probably be one of a dozen mages you kiss tonight. Everyone cuts loose on their first time.” The necromancer’s fingers lingered down by Cletus’s belt buckle. “And who can blame you? The air calls for it.”
Cletus wanted to kiss the necromancer right then and there. Every nerve in his body desired him. The momentary embarrassment he felt washed away and was replaced by need. He pressed his hands against the necromancer’s chest.
“If you tell me your name I’ll make you my only.”
“I enchanted these you know,” the necromancer said, bending down to pick up one of the still squirming worms and popping it into his mouth. His eyes flashed an intense purple and a smile spread across his lips. “Too potent for a first-nighter like you to eat though.”
Before this moment, the thought of eating an enchanted worm would have grossed Cletus out, but now he wanted to know. “How long till I can?”
“However long you need,” the necromancer said and finally kissed him. He tasted like lavender. Cletus’ body was on fire. He searched the necromancer’s body with no regard to who watched until he felt other hands against him. Cold hands. Impossibly cold. He pulled back from the necromancer and looked around him. The once beautiful men around him were now gray and gaunt, their faces collapsed like only the worst famine could. Cletus screamed and the necromancer’s hand gripped his shoulders when he tried to back away.
“It only lasts a moment. They’ll be beautiful again and so will you.” The necromancer looked at him with hungry eyes. “You wanted to be wanted didn’t you? They all did.”
Cletus shook his head, his horror at war with the continuing effects of the worms still being crunched beneath his feet. “Are they dead?”
“Does it matter? They all came here looking for the glamour of adoration.” He started to massage Cletus’ shoulders. “I knew you the moment you arrived. A lonely soul who thought he could come somewhere new and escape all his crushing doubts. But cities like this are a worse curse than anything I might devise. They make you hate every inch of yourself and give you that loneliness tenfold. That’s why you came here.”
His panicked breaths allowed Cletus to take in more of the pink mist. He could feel himself letting go of his fear. Would staying here be so bad? The people here would desire him forever. And in turn, he would too. Was it really such a bad thing to want to be desired?
“I’ll stay.” Cletus leaned his head back against the necromancer’s chest. “Just don’t let it stop.”
The music started again and all the beauty came pouring back in. Slowly, the necromancer ran his fingers through his new patron’s hair. “My name is Alluros.”
It was his first night. And it always would be.
© 2020 Brent Lambert
About the Author
Comic books, SFF and good cooking are the essential elements of Brent Lambert. A full-fledged military brat, he is consistently struck by wanderlust and has a keen sense of things never really being permanent. He can be found on Twitter @brentclambert.