Alan looked up from the newspaper clipping to the signs on the street corner. He had been coming down to South Street ever since he was fifteen and not once had he ever happened on Carte Avenue. When he had seen the ad for the tattoo parlor promising Halloween tattoos for only a dollar, he had thought it first a gimmick then a misprint. There was no Carte Avenue and even a search of online maps didn't find one. If his father hadn;t kept an old atlas of Philadelphia from the 1950s in his den, he would never have known the small line pictured between South and Lombard existed.

Now that he was there, Carte looked more like an alley than an avenue. A sewer grate in the middle of the pavement leaked steam. On the left was a grungy takeout place promising with flickering orange neon Tcho-Tcho cuisine. Next to it was a closed storefront masked in yellowed newspaper. On the right side sat a quiet typewriter repair shop and, beyond that, the tattoo parlor with its hanging metal sign that read only Marks.

He took the old steps two at a time, feeling curious but wondering why there wasn't a crowd. He seemed to be the only one on Carte at the moment. The cheap offer had to be too good to be true.

The doors were heavy wood and he had to pull hard to make them budge. Once inside, the foyer was near empty except for a tall metal cabinet. Primitive relics sitting next to antique devices filled the glass shelves. One had a little typed card with Burmese Hilltribe Tattoo Needle. A crude state of a leering dwarf leaned against a metal contraption billed as a World War II Era Rotary Machine.

"Hello."

He jumped a little when the woman came over to him. He hadn't heard her until she spoke up. She was incredibly striking, with shoulder-length red hair and skin the color of poured milk. A black leather vest, secured by knotted ties, accented her curves and her long legs slipped into matching pants. Tattoos decorated only her left arm, covering from bare shoulder down to her wrist with multicolored images, the spectrum of a tropical bird rather than a chaotic mess that happened to some people overindulging in Indian ink.

She offered Alan a smile. "I see you have our advertisement."

"Yeah." He looked down at the clipping, feeling suddenly unsure of himself for some reason. "So, are you really--"

"Offering tattoos for only a dollar?" She nodded. "Absolutely. But, and there's always a but, they only will last one night. Unless you come back for them to be re-inked and then they're permanent."

"Oh." He felt more than a little discouraged. For months, he had been telling his best friend he wanted a tattoo, even convincing Justin to get one also. But he never managed to save enough money or decide on an image. When he saw the ad and the ridiculously cheap price, the idea of getting one for tonight, for Halloween night, sounded so right. "So, I guess this re-inking costs a fortune, right."

"No, it's free. Just some people decide against keeping one of our tattoos forever." She stepped closer to him, almost uncomfortably close. She had an exotic smell that he was first noticing. Probably a rare designer perfume. It threatened to make him sneeze and left him a little light-headed. "Now where were you thinking of having one inked?"

He pulled up at the sleeve of his shirt. Her hands helped him bare his upper arm and her touch felt cool, only a touch warmer than ice. He actually shivered.

She nodded as if satisfied. "Well, all I need is that dollar, then you can go into the back room and choose your marking. The artist will take care of the rest."

He opened his wallet, removed one of the singles from the shrinking supply and handed it over. She folded the bill neatly before gesturing in the opposite direction of where she entered.

A padded table, the sort they offer massages on, dominated the room beyond. Only, Alan doubted that those had a pair of leather straps on either end. Beyond that he saw a wheeled chair and cart, covered with a white towel and looking like something used in a doctor's office.

Doubts rose in his mind. He had always heard inking tattoos hurt. Now he wondered just how much pain there'd be.

To distract himself, he started looking at the flash, the countless images papered onto every wall. Fire-breathing dragons, green pixies, and black cats with their backs arched. Any one would be cool to wear. Then his eyes happened upon one image vastly different from the rest. He instantly looked away, his heartrate doubling, only he found himself returning to the drawing again and again, like some lure.

Just a small, pink inverted triangle, utterly harmless, except he knew what it represented, what it would mean on his arm.

"Ahh, you've found one you need."

For the second time, Alan found himself startled. He turned, his face suddenly warm and blushing. The handsome man walking towards him had to be the woman's brother. They shared many traits, from hair to skin, to identical clothes and tattoos along the same arm.

"What? Oh no, I was looking... I mean, I want this one." He pointed wildly at the flash on the wall, not even really seeing what he indicated.

The man's eyebrow rose and he chuckled good-naturedly. "Relax. I'm more than fine with it."

Alan bit his lip. "But I'm not--"

"I think you'd feel more comfortable with that tonight than any mask."

He stood inches away from Alan, who struggled not to stare at the muscular torso barely contained by the vest. He didn't dare let his eyes drift further down.

Sure there had been... thoughts... but that didn't mean.... He could not seem to capture his thoughts. That same exotic scent was drifting from the man and made him weak every time he sniffed the air. He found himself nodding, and being guided towards the table.

"Take your shirt off and lie on your stomach." The man patted the table.

Alan could not meet the other's green eyes as he fumbled with lifting the first of the two t-shirts he wore over his head. He felt suddenly exposed and panicked for a moment until the cool touch of the artist guided him done and he stretched out. The man instructed Alan to turn his head the other direction. "It will be easier that way for both of us." The leather straps secured each of his wrists and then ankles, tightly enough that he could barely move.

He tried to keep calm, taking deep breaths. From his blind side, he heard the squeak of the chair and the sound of the cart being rolled closer. Metal instruments clinked together, making him think of surgical tools and he shut his eyes tight.

He had expected something to clean off his arm before the needle's touch. The chill of rubbing alcohol or some ointment. But when he felt something warm and wet slowly going over the skin, Alan trembled. It lasted only a few moments but he had the sudden impression the artist licked him clean.

Then came the high pitch hum of an electric motor. When the needle bit, the pain rushed through him and he gasped. His entire body went rigid and he was sure that somehow the damn triangle wasn't being drawn on his flesh but engraved on his bone.

"Almost done."

Alan whimpered, he may have even begged for it to end, but the man never paused and the pain became so constant he was shocked when it abruptly ceased. He found himself panting as the straps were removed. The artist helped him rise up to a sitting position.

He looked down at the arm but only caught a glimpse of the tattoo before the man's cold fingers taped a piece of surgical gauze over the fresh ink. "You can remove this later tonight."

Alan only nodded. He needed help putting back on his shirts and noticed the man's hands tended to linger over his chest a moment. Even if he wanted to say something, he felt too weak to bother.

"Come back tomorroe and I'll make it permanent," the artist said with a wide grin.

Alan stumbled on the first few steps out of the room. He didn't see the woman as he walked out. Not that he cared; all he wanted was to get home.

The rooftop had always been their special place; for years, Alan had been meeting Justin there to start out whatever plans they had or lacked for the night. His best friend lived with his mother and stepfather only four floors below, yet it seemed so right to open the Roof Access - Authorized Use Only rather than knock on Apartment 5C.

Alan hugged himself tightly but the chilly late October air was not the only reason. He felt oddly excited tonight. Maybe it was the amazing view of the sky the rooftop offered--clear for once and filled with stars and a fat hunk of moon--but his entire body seemed as crisp as the air, ready to crackle at any moment.

He wanted to share this newfound feeling with Justin. Sweet Justin. They had been friends for years and Alan could not envision his life without the tow-headed boy who's antics and stories always made him life.

A word whispered on the breeze. "Alan?"

He barely recognized Justin's voice. He glanced about but could not see any trace of his best friend on the rooftop. Was he playing some game? "Where are you?"

A figure stepped out from behind one of the air handling units. Moonlight made the bluish-black fur covering its body shine. A pair of tattered blue jeans the only clothing. Small leathery wings flapped briefly, stretching one last time before folding back. It stepped over to Alan and sat down next to him.

"Justin?" Staring hard, he could make out some of his friend's features in the bat-like face: the small snout a bit crooked exactly how Justin had broken his nose and both pointy ears were pierced with those coppery gauge earrings. Wide green eyes regarded him.

"Yeah." When Justin spoke, his mouth showed small pointy fangs.

"Awesome costume!"

Justin smiled for a moment and an expression of sadness, obvious even with the mask, took hold. "Thanks," he murmured.

Alan reached over and touched his friend's arm. The fur felt as soft as it looked, like that of a kitten. Justin moved a little closer.

"Where did you get this? Is it some sort of bodysuit?"

The wings flapped once, the boney spur on the end lightly scratching Alan's back.

"Did you see that coupon in the paper for cheap tattoos?" Justin asked.

Alan nodded. "Don't tell me you went also."

"Yeah. Weird place, huh?"

Weird didn't even start how he felt about that tattoo parlor. "Totally."

"Ugh, I also went to that Chinese or whatever place across the street from them. I couldn't understand a thing on the menu and the ugly dude at the counter had nasty teeth."

"The food would have given you worms anyway."

"Hope not, cause whatever I ordered had better been chicken."

Alan laughed, but noticed that Justin's hands had grown stubby and tipped with small claws. He rubbed his friend's back, fingers moving through the fur. Then he tugged on it sudden and hard. Justin winced and cried out.

"That's not a suit, is it?"

Justin lowered his head and slowly shook it twice.

"The tattoo parlor?"

"Has to be. I went in there and there was this cool art of a vampire bat on the wall and I said that one." Justin rubbed at his shoulder and the wings flexed. "I took a nap after coming home and when I woke up it was late, dark out, and I was like this."

"Heh, you sorta look like a Disney vampire," Alan said with a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah, its cool." Alan actually thought Justin was pretty cute as a bat. The ears perked up and had little tuffs of fur at the tip. And he felt all soft and warm. But then, he realized, he had always thought Justin looked good. How many times had he just felt better around him? Why hadn't he ever admitted to himself before he sweated his best friend?

"So you look normal." Justin poked at him. "What tattoo did you get? Or did you wuss out?"

He had never been afraid to say anything to Justin before, but revealing the mark on his arm would be so damn telling. Alan didn't want to lose Justin. Better to change the conversation, do anything but say he's gay. "Do you want to bite me?"

Justin's eyes widened as if surprised. He gave a slightly mischievous grin. "A little, but--"

"You can." He pulled at his sweater collar, to better offer his neck. He thought Justin might argue but instead his friend moved his head down closer. Alan shivered slightly at the warm breath on his skin.

"Just a little taste," Justin whispered before his lips pressed down.

Alan had never heard anything so sexy; he felt himself growing hard. The bite stung no worse than a needle from the doctor's office for an allergy shot. Then Justin sucked, drinking him in and wrapping his arms around him in an embrace that more than kept away the chill. It all made Alan moan. He sank his head against Justin's furred chest, amazed he could felt so relaxed, so content that he just wanted to fall asleep while being held.

He never knew he drifted off until something pitched and slapped him awake.

"Alan, you're scaring me."

He looked up into Justin's bat face. Somehow he was laying down, head cradled in his friend's lap. His neck ached.

"You passed out. I think you'd have let me take it all."

Alan reached up and lightly stroked Justin's cheek, his fingertips brushing the lips that had been on him only minutes ago. "I would."

"But why?" All of a sudden there was a tear falling into his face. Justin was crying? "I didn't want to hurt you... I'm sorry... you tasted so good."

Alan sat up and started removing the wool sweater. The night air found and attacked his bare skin, leaving him shaking. He moved so Justin would have full view of the new tattoo.

"Oh. Wow." Justin's changed hands gripped Alan's arm, the sharp nails, lightly pricking him, as he bent down for a closer look. "So does this mean..."

"Yeah," Alan said between chattering teeth.

Justin once again wrapped his arms around him. "You're freezing."

"You're not scared off?"

"The boy hugging a hideous vampire is asking me why I'm not afraid?" Justin laughed.

"You're not hideous."

"Neither are you."

Then Justin kissed him. His friend's mouth tasted coppery and the small fangs lightly scratched his tongue and lips and it was the most wonderful kiss to Alan. It seemed to go on forever and yet did not last enough.

"After Halloween, everything will be back to normal," he said.

"Right, the tattoos are temporary." Justin lightly nipped at his earlobe. "Of course, we could go back tomorrow and get yours done permanent. If you want."

Alan nodded, trying to tell himself that this wasn't a dream, that sometimes a boy can get everything he wants. Or needs. "Can I have another kiss?"

Justin grinned and fluttered his wings. "Trick or treat."

All content on these pages © Steve Berman unless otherwise noted.

Artwork by Jake Myers