A few patrons stood in a line waiting their turn to enter. Most were dressed a lot more casual than me. The men wore jeans or slacks and either t-shirts or polo’s. Some of the women were dressed in skimpy skirts and tops, but most were in jeans and halter tops or tank tops. I walked down the concrete steps, eyes twitching to the left and right, to a red door that had ‘Thorn’ written in calligraphy, across the middle. A tall, thin woman dressed in skin tight leather pants and a shirt that barely covered her breasts, stood guard. Her washboard stomach didn’t hold an ounce of fat and her bored expression never faltered. “I.D,” she said. I knew right away she was a vampire, her energy projected off of her like a smack in the face.Rifling through my purse, I dug out my license and handed it to her. The woman’s eyes scanned the thin plastic card and then her body tensed up. “You a witch?”Damn. When the supernatural revelation happened in the 80’s, the humans required that all of our licenses state our species.
