Glitter Before The Fall
The bass hit first—deep, merciless, vibrating through bone and bloodstream. It rattled glasses, shook ribs, and made the floor of The Velvet Coffin feel alive beneath six-inch heels and combat boots alike. Neon lights strobed violet and red, fog spilling low across the dance floor like a theatrical curse.
Bodies packed the room shoulder to shoulder, sweat slick, glitter airborne. Sequins flashed like shattered constellations. This was not a place for restraint. This was a place to be seen.
Onstage, Billy Eyelash ruled.
She stood dead center in the spotlight like it had been summoned specifically for her—platinum-blonde hair sculpted into a dramatic, architectural updo that defied gravity and common sense. Her dress was a blood-red sequined masterpiece, slit high, hugging every curve like it knew it was lucky. Lashes sharp enough to cut glass. Lips painted the exact shade of danger.
Billy lip-synced like the world depended on it.
Because, in hindsight, it did.
She prowled the edge of the stage with deliberate confidence, eyes sweeping the crowd like she owned them—because she did. She pointed at a table of screaming queens in the front row and mouthed I know, earning a fresh wave of hysteria.
Billy grabbed the mic.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who terrify small-minded men,” she purred, letting the track dip just long enough for her voice to slice through the club, “I hope you stretched—because I am about to emotionally devastate you.”
The room exploded.
At the bar, Harry leaned back against the counter, drink untouched, foot tapping faintly to a rhythm that had nothing to do with the club’s current playlist. If the DJ had slipped in Kylie right now, Harry would’ve noticed instantly. He always did.
Dark hair, calm eyes, denim jacket worn soft with age—Harry was the still point in Billy’s orbit. He watched her like someone watching home.
Beside him, Shaz tossed back her shot and slammed the glass down. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her shorts and crop top doing nothing to hide the fact that she was built for survival long before the world figured that out.
“She’s feeling herself tonight,” Shaz said.
Harry smiled. “She always does.”
“Yeah,” Shaz replied, squinting toward the stage, “but this feels… big. Like something’s about to go wrong.”
Harry chuckled. “It’s a drag show, Shaz. Something always goes wrong.”
Onstage, Billy dropped into a split so clean it felt illegal. The crowd screamed.
Then someone screamed wrong.
It came from the back of the dance floor—sharp, panicked, ugly. Billy clocked it instantly. Years of drag had sharpened her instincts into something closer to survival radar.
She glanced over mid-pose.
A man had gone down.
At first, it looked normal. Drunk collapse. Packed club. Bad choices. Someone laughed. Someone reached down to help him up.
The man bit them.
Hard.
Blood sprayed beneath the strobe lights, flashing bright and obscene. Teeth sank into flesh. The music kept playing.
Billy froze.
“Well,” she muttered into the mic, “that’s not part of the choreography.”
The man jerked upright, eyes cloudy, jaw working wrong. The woman he’d bitten screamed, clutching her arm. A bouncer rushed forward.
The thing lunged again.
The track cut out in a shriek of feedback.
Silence slammed down.
Then panic detonated.
Bodies surged toward the exits. Heels snapped. Drinks shattered. Fog thickened as the machine kept pumping, turning the floor into a choking haze.
Billy stepped back, gripping the mic stand.
“Okay!” she shouted. “Everybody stay calm. This is either a medical emergency or the worst immersive theatre experience I’ve ever agreed to.”
The bitten woman collapsed, convulsing violently.
Harry was already moving.
“Billy!” he shouted, vaulting the bar.
Shaz shoved someone aside. “NOPE. That man did not just chomp someone!”
The woman jerked once.
Then stood up.
Her head snapped toward the nearest person with a wet, animal crack.
“Oh,” Billy breathed. “Absolutely not.”
She lunged into the crowd, teeth bared. Blood splashed across the dance floor.
Billy backed away, heels clicking.
“I have spent two hours in hair and makeup,” she announced, “and I refuse to be eaten before last call.”
Harry burst into the stage wing, breathless but steady. “Mate. We’re leaving. Now.”
The conversation cut through the chaos like a tether. Billy turned immediately.
Shaz skidded in behind him, yanking a fire extinguisher off the wall. “Your fans are biting people!”
A body slammed into the stage steps—tackled by a man still wearing a pink feather boa, now soaked dark with blood. The boa tangled around his neck as he lunged forward, jaws snapping.
Billy stared.
“Wow,” she said flatly. “He borrowed that.”
The boa zombie tripped over his own fabulousness and face-planted.
Harry grabbed Billy’s hand, firm and grounding. “This isn’t jagerbombs. This isn’t a fight. This is—”
“Zombies,” Shaz said. “It’s zombies. I’ve watched enough trash TV to know.”
Billy blinked. “You’re telling me I survived bad drag judges and worse exes just to be taken out by the undead?”
Emergency lights flared red. Glamour died instantly.
Another zombie lunged—hands grabbing at Billy’s hips, fingers sinking into her padding.
Billy shrieked.
“EXCUSE YOU,” she yelled, ripping free. “These are custom!”
She slammed her heel down and cracked the mic stand across its jaw.
“That was a no-touching number!”
They bolted backstage through screaming dancers and abandoned wigs, bursting out into the alley as cold night air slammed into them. Sirens wailed somewhere distant. Fires flickered down the street.
The club door rattled behind them as bodies slammed against it.
Shaz bent over, laughing hysterically. “I knew tonight was cursed.”
Harry turned to Billy, hands steady on her shoulders. “Hey. Look at me, Queen.”
She did.
For a moment, the jokes fell away. The noise dulled. Billy’s breath shook.
“You still here?” she asked quietly.
“Always,” Harry said. No hesitation. No drama. Just truth.
She nodded, swallowing hard, then straightened and instinctively checked her hair.
“Well,” Billy said, squaring her shoulders, “on the bright side—”
A scream echoed down the street.
She smirked.
“At least I look fantastic.”
And then they ran.
