The Last of the Monsters

by Lila Dubois

  That’s right, you’re looking at a monster embracing, or killing, Akta. Some of you are going to say that it’s just really good effects, but remember this—no special effects house is working with them. ILM, Zoic…none of them are associated with this movie.

  Maybe it’s puppets?

  Nope, Jim Henson Studios has never heard of them. Handspring says no too.

  AND this is a shot from the production footage. Not the post footage.

  No CGI, no live action puppetry. How are they doing this?

  A source on the production confirms the actors are real monsters who can change into humans at will.

  MONSTERS ARE REAL.

  It’s not about the movie anymore, people. It’s about these monsters. Where’s the CIA? FBI? Those people from Roswell? We want to know the truth about this movie and who these actors are NOW.

  “Who did this?” Akta asked.

  “We don’t know,” Lena said, voice measured and low. Akta could read her friend and knew it wasn’t just anger she was holding back, but fear. They were all risking a lot with this movie, and if they couldn’t control the truth about the guys they were in for a lot of trouble.

  “It has to be one of the crew,” Margo said. “Those are production shots.”

  “None of them would…” Akta didn’t finish the sentence. It was stupid to insist that it wasn’t someone on the production crew when there was no one else it could be.

  Cali hissed out a breath. “Oren.”

  They’d checked out Oren before bringing him on. His past hadn’t made him their first choice, but he was the best they could get. Whatever his personal issues, he was a very good editor.

  “We need to know who this was, and we need to shut this down.” Lena picked up her phone. “We’ll question Oren. Margo, I need you to warn Runako and Luke and the others. Keep them from going after anyone.”

  Margo nodded and left the room.

  Lena called Oren, and Jane, looking sick, headed for the bathroom.

  As Akta stared down at the photos, a horrible suspicion rose within her. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t…

  Keeping her fears bottled up, Akta took a seat at the conference table in the Calypso Productions boardroom. She wasn’t going to say anything to her friends until she had a chance to talk to Henry herself.

  “Where are you going?”

  Away from you.

  Henry wisely didn’t say what he was thinking. “I’m going to get you some clothes.”

  Henry could count things he was scared of on one hand. The creature standing before him was one of them. She didn’t look scary—a bit insane by human standards, with her long, tangled dark hair barely covering her naked body. Maeve looked as human as he did at the moment, but unlike him she looked human all the time. Yet, she was probably the least human of them all.

  “Clothes…yes, I should have those.” She looked down at herself.

  “You can’t wander around naked.”

  Maeve pushed her hair back over her shoulders and ran her hands down her belly and hips. “I am very pleasing by human standards.”

  “Uh, yes, you are.” Henry shifted from foot to foot, wishing someone else were there to help him deal with her. His once-peaceful condo was turning into a halfway house for new-to-LA monsters. Maeve had arrived in LA tonight. As far as Henry was concerned, it was making an unstable situation more dangerous, rather than less so, but Maeve would help them find out who’d leaked the photos.

  Maeve reached for him and Henry jerked back. She cocked her head to one side. “I cannot See you, you know that.”

  Maeve was his Clan’s Seer. Incredibly powerful, probably insane and nosy as hell, it was best to steer clear of her when trying to keep a secret. She was connected to the world in a way he didn’t really understand and used magic to do incredible, impossible things. She was both a revered leader in their Clan and one of their most important resources.

  Maeve was one of the last of her kind. Where once each clan had been a race unto itself, as their numbers dwindled they’d had to band together, forming the Great Clan in a place that had, at the time, been open and easy to hide in. Now their home in the Rocky Mountains was smack in the middle of the United States, and Maeve was the last American banshee.

  Earlier tonight Henry had met with the other monsters in Griffith Park, their go-to meeting place because they could hide in the vast urban wilderness and move around in their own bodies. This had been the most grim meeting they’d ever called. They were staring down the barrel of a worst-case scenario. The movie was too far along to scrap—the crew and human cast all knew the truth, and if they walked away now the rumors would spread and they’d be vulnerable. Maeve had arrived just then, in their darkest hour, and though they could use her help, Henry knew the fact that she’d arrived when she did meant that the situation was as bad, if not worse, than they understood.

  The terrible part of it all was that Maeve would be staying with him. She’d done more to help their people than anyone, but she was a serious pain in the ass. And it was his job to keep her under control.

  “I’m going to go. The kitchen is in there. It’s human, but you should be able to figure it out.”

  “My kitchen is human-sized.” Maeve wandered through the living room.

  “Right. That makes sense. Just, uh, don’t burn anything down.”

  Maeve rolled her eyes. “I am not the one you need to worry about.”

  He didn’t believe that, but he’d deal with Maeve later. First she needed some clothes. A naked, crazy banshee wasn’t inconspicuous, even in LA.

  Henry slid into the car with a sigh. He carefully put the key into the ignition. He hadn’t been driving for long, and he wasn’t licensed. There was no way for him to get a California license when, as far as the US Government was concerned, he didn’t exist.

  There was a tap on his window and Henry nearly came out of his skin—which for him was really saying something.

  Akta was standing outside his car. She was dressed casually in a flowing top and leggings, with her hair in a braid. Henry took a moment to let his nerves settle, then rolled down the window.

  “Akta, what are you doing here? Did something else happen?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.” She walked around the front of the car to the passenger door. Henry unlocked it and she slid into the seat. “Lena said I shouldn’t go up to your place, that you had a new person there.”

  “A new person…that’s close enough. I was going to get her some clothes.”

  “I’ll go with you; we can talk on the way.”

  Though Akta was smiling, there was steel in her words that he’d never heard before. Henry carefully backed out of the parking space and drove around to the gated entrance of the condo’s parking garage. As the gate rattled open, he looked at Akta.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “I stayed in one of the condos when I had my kitchen redone. The garage access is still keyed into my car.”

  After that, Henry couldn’t think of any other small talk. He pulled out into traffic as the tension in the car thickened.

  “Why are you here?”

  Akta’s question took him by surprise. Henry looked over at her as he stopped for a red light.

  “What do you mean?”

  She picked up her braid and played with the end. “I mean, why are you here, in LA?”

  “You know why. This movie is our best hope of controlling how humans find out about us and also making sure that they understand more about us than what we look like.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “That’s why Michael and Luke are here. I want to know why you are here.”

  “The same reason.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What? Why do you say that?”

  She didn’t answer. Henry stared out the front window, furiously thinking. The way she was talking almost made it sound like she didn’t think he was committed to th
e project, but he was, and she had to know that. He’d never been late to set, never complained about the long days or about how many times he had to shift in order to get a shot, even when shifting hurt.

  “Akta, I don’t understand.”

  “That’s funny, because I don’t either.”

  Henry hadn’t been paying attention and had ended up on Hollywood Boulevard. The street was jammed with traffic, even this late at night.

  “What don’t you understand?” he asked.

  “I don’t understand why you’re here if you hate humans.”

  Henry stamped on the brake and the car behind him honked. He stared at Akta, waiting for her to smile, to laugh, for her eyes to sparkle the way they did when she was teasing him. There was no smile—she was serious.

  A car on the right pulled out of one of the few meter spots on Hollywood and Henry zoomed in, throwing the car into Park.

  “What did you say?” he demanded.

  They both turned in their seats to face each other. “The past few months, your opinion of humans has been more than clear. You don’t like us, don’t think we’re equal to you.”

  “That’s not…” Henry stopped. What could he say? The things he’d been saying had made it sound like he didn’t like humans.

  “And all that makes me wonder if you didn’t come to LA only because you assumed no one would agree to make the movie.”

  “You don’t think…”

  “I think that at least Runako was up front with his dislike. It’s pretty clear that you haven’t been happy, and I can only assume that’s because now the movie is actually happening.”

  She tipped her chin up, the picture of beautiful defiance. “And I think that you might be trying to sabotage the movie.”

  Her words were like a blow to the stomach. Henry sat back in his seat, staring at her.

  “You think I leaked the photos.”

  “I think that you want the movie to end, you want to get away from me, from all us humans.”

  Henry felt as if he were free falling. This conversation couldn’t be real; she couldn’t really think he would have done something like that.

  “Please tell me you’re joking.” His voice was rough with suppressed emotion.

  “I’m not.”

  “Akta, you know I would never do that—you know me.” He reached out to take her hand and she pulled back, looking at him suspiciously.

  “I thought I did, but that’s all changed. You’re not who I thought you were.”

  “I am. I’m the same.”

  “Then why did you do this?”

  “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  “Henry.” She shook her head, shifting to look out the window and not at him. “You hate humans. If you admit that, it will be easier.”

  “Look at me, please.”

  “I can’t.” There was a little hiccup in her voice. “I can’t look at you. I’m so angry.”

  She didn’t sound angry; she sounded sad. Henry would have rather that she be angry.

  “Akta, look at me.”

  She faced him, her beautiful brown eyes shiny with tears.

  “I don’t hate humans. Nothing could be further from the truth. What I said, what I’ve been saying.” Henry stopped and considered what he should say. He hadn’t realized what the cost of his lies would be. He needed to come clean to her, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “Akta, I don’t hate humans. I never have, and I never will.”

  “So you just think that we’re not good enough to be mates.”

  “That’s… No…” Henry scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think that either. I was…protecting myself.”

  “Protecting yourself? From what?”

  He turned to face her, cupped her cheek in his hand and forced her to look at him. “From you.”

  Akta blinked, confusion wiping away the sadness that blanketed her features. “From me?” Henry dropped his hand from her cheek as she looked away, then back, head shaking. “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t realize how bad this would get, and I’m sorry. I was being an ass. Let me take Maeve something to wear and then we’ll go someplace and talk.”

  Akta just stared at him.

  Henry jumped out of the car and ran to one of the souvenir shops wedged between a stripper shoe store and a pizza parlor. He grabbed a little cotton dress with sparkly writing on it, paid and dove back in the car.

  Akta was silent until he’d pulled into the condo’s parking garage.

  When he stopped, she opened the door and got out. Henry fumbled with his seat belt, planning to chase her and beg her for a chance to explain. She leaned back in the passenger door before he could get out.

  “I’ll see you at my place.”

  With that, she closed the door and walked away, the sharp tap-tap of her shoes the only sound as Henry sat in his car wondering how he’d managed to create such a disaster.

  Chapter Four

  Akta looked around her living room, hoping for something to do. Picking up clutter would have kept her hands occupied as she waited, but her housekeeper had been by yesterday and the room was spotless.

  There was no food to speak of in her house, so Akta settled for opening a bottle of wine. She decanted the red and set her wine timer. She lasted thirty seconds before she gave in and poured herself a glass. Right now she didn’t care that it hadn’t had time to breathe. She wanted alcohol. Now.

  Glass in hand, she paced, trying—and failing—to imagine what was really going on with Henry.

  She hadn’t really thought he’d done it, or at least she hadn’t wanted to.

  His reaction in the car made it clear that he hadn’t—either that or he was the best actor in the world. There was no doubt he was good, and she enjoyed working with him…until they got to the physically intimate scenes. He could handle emotional dialogue, but as soon as he had to touch her, he froze. It had gotten to the point that she felt terribly self-conscious, which affected her performance too.

  It might have been okay if Akta wasn’t still nursing a crush. She’d assumed it would fade away, but before it did they’d started filming. No matter how good an actor someone was, the onscreen feelings could spill over. That was why so many marriages ended midway through productions as actors fell for their costars.

  And maybe if she really thought he had no feelings for her in return Akta would have been able to put all of this aside.

  On the surface it was pretty clear that he wasn’t into her, didn’t like humans and was disgusted by touching her.

  And yet…

  Sometimes she’d catch him looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. There were days when she was sure that he didn’t think it was wrong for humans and monsters to be together, because he’d look at her as if he wanted nothing more in the world than to touch her.

  Henry had been giving off mixed signals for a year, and after their conversation in the car it was pretty clear that he wasn’t telling the truth about his feelings. One way or another, she planned to find out what was really going on tonight.

  The doorbell rang.

  Akta stared down at her empty wineglass. Taking her time, she went to the kitchen and left it on the counter. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door, rubbing her lips together to redistribute her lip gloss.

  When she was ready, Akta opened the door.

  Henry waited on the other side, hands shoved deep in his jean pockets.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi. Come in.”

  Henry, and almost everyone else associated with the movie, had been coming and going from her house as needed, most of the time just letting themselves in. That was how Akta liked it—she wanted people to feel welcome and at home.

  But this was different. It felt different.

  Henry slipped past her and Akta closed the door.

  “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “Uh, yeah, that would be good.”

  Henry wandered
past the kitchen into the living room, stopping at the patio door. He looked up at the night sky. Akta’s home was a beautiful adobe-style house in the Hollywood Hills, but even here the light pollution meant only a few stars were visible.

  She poured them both a glass and took them into the living room. “I’ll put yours here on the table.”

  Akta put the glass down and then took a seat in one of the large leather armchairs. He remained standing, back to her. He was stiff, so much so that she could see the veins and tendons in his forearms, which were revealed by the soft T-shirt he wore. The cotton clung to his shoulders, and Akta imagined she could even see the muscles in his back.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him nude plenty of times, but seeing him naked when he was on set working was something entirely different than imagining him naked while they were alone in her living room.

  Finally he turned, picking up the glass. He took a mouthful but didn’t sit. Instead he paced back and forth, looking tenser by the moment.

  When Akta couldn’t stand it anymore, she said, “Henry, maybe you should go. We can talk about this later.”

  “No, we’re doing this now. I’ve fucked everything up, but that stops tonight.” He dropped onto the end of the couch closest to her chair. “I didn’t realize how it would sound when I said those things. I mean, I did, but I guess I was just more concerned with keeping my secret.”

  Akta narrowed her eyes, trying to piece together what was going on, but it was all just a confused jumble. “Henry, please, you’ve got to start explaining. What secret?”

  He took another mouthful of wine and swallowed. When he spoke this time he wasn’t looking at her, but down at the floor.

  “I love humans, human things. I remember when we first discovered the movies in that human house we’d sneak into. Those are some of my favorite childhood memories, hanging out with Michael and Luke, watching movies and getting excited about all the human stuff.

  “Then again, we thought Star Wars was some sort of documentary and that light-saber fights were what astronauts did.”

  He smiled, a little quirk of a half smile, and Akta’s heart clenched.