Outside the club, the stormy midnight sky burns orange with reflected city lights, and ozone drenches the pregnant air. No breeze relieves the heat under the cantilever where blue neon gloats on stressed metal walls and queued wannabe starlets, colored glitter makeup and sparkling fairy wings. From inside, the bass throbs, a tantalizing promise of oblivion.

Across the street, pale twins watch in shadow, hands linked. Bleached faces, sapphire eyes, features sharp and identical. Soft black hair curls on their collars in the humidity, and street dust smears their matching white suits.

Their arrival in this forsaken city was swift and untidy, crash-landing them to their knees on dirty concrete. It doesn’t matter. They don’t intend to stay long.

“Here.” The first twin speaks, voice neither male nor female, blue gaze unflinching.
The second twin’s voice is indistinguishable. “He is inside.”
“The demon lord.”
“Jinxx.”
“We must face him. We will not fail.”

The second twin’s smooth brow creases. “We must not fail. I want to go home. I do not like this heat, Jake. The city is . . . not as I expected. People are free.”
“People are not free, Ella. It is as Shadow told us. The city is stolen by this demon. We will take it back. We will not fail.”

The sharp rip of an engine turns two heads simultaneously, and the twins stare at a leather-vested biker and his girl climbing off a gleaming black bike and staggering up the street with his tattooed arm around her shoulder. The boy is tall, handsome, muscular, his greased dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. The girl walks unsteadily in delicate heels, makeup smeared, her clammy skin shining under loops and studs and rings of metal.

“A big one,” Jake remarks.`
“And a little one,” Ella adds.
Jake sniffs the air. “She is his possession.”
Ella sniffs the air. “He is her . . . protector.”
“They are in love. Like us.”
“Like us. Perfect.”
“Perfect,” agrees Jake.

The twins look at each other and smile, and walk hand in hand toward the couple.
The biker girl points, ragged black hair falling over multipierced ears, and hitches her leather skirt up with a drunken laugh. “Look, it’s Mary-Kate and Ashley.”

Her boyfriend laughs, dragging his studded lips over hers as they stop before the twins. “Yeah. Hey, bitches. Your movies suck.”
“Yeah. And you killed Heath, you slut.” The girl flicks her cigarette, deliberate, and dark ash smears on Jake’s white suit.
Jake frowns. It’s possible. “I do not remember Heath.”
The boy flips a pearly switchblade from his pocket and flicks the spring, his dark eyes glassy. “Sure you do, Mary-Kate. Hand over your fucking cash, bitch.”

A chain of silver skulls glints around the boy’s neck, rubies glowing bright in the eye sockets. Interesting choice. The twins look at each other and smile. Two identical white hands flash out, each grabbing a sweaty throat.

“Whatthef—!” The boy clutches at Jakes’s arm, the knife slipping from his fingers. Jake squeezes harder. Blood runs scarlet under white nails, and the boy’s eyes bulge, his face purpling.

Jake drags him forward and forces a kiss on his mouth. The boy convulses, but Jake doesn’t let go. Bloody froth drips from their kiss. The boy’s limbs jerk, muscles locked hard like stone. His body judders one last time, and Jakes’s white form crumples to the pavement, lifeless.

The boy lifts his head, and his once-brown eyes glow sapphire blue. Jake rolls muscular shoulders, stretching in his new body. He lifts his arm, admiring the light glinting on his chains, and bloody claw marks on his throat seethe and vanish in a wisp of steam.

A good disguise. He tosses his ponytail over his shoulder, heaves in a breath, and lets it out. “Perfect.”

His voice settles, no longer flat an echo-less but the boy’s bourbon-cracked baritone. Ella shakes new black hair from her face and smiles, flexing long white legs in strappy heels. “Perfect.”

Jake plucks the switchblade from the smeared pavement and flips it over his fingers, a perfect copy of the boy’s flourish. The once-twins link hands, tarnished skull rings clinking together, and step out into the street toward the club. Behind them, discarded white bodies crumple in the dust.

Notes

Here is a little filler for you guys! Hope you enjoy! Remember rate, review and subscribe.
-Stay weird baby bats
Grimm ;)