The Last of the Monsters

by Lila Dubois

  After flipping through and speed-reading the relevant articles and ads, he’d pulled out the ones he found least objectionable. Piece by piece, he’d taped them to the wall—a trick he’d learned from watching too many cop dramas—creating a map of sorts. He had a section for activities, another on the human female psyche, a third on sex and finally a lone piece on the center.

  Though he found most of the things he’d pulled out to be at best trite and at worst stupid, there was one article that had struck him. Titled “Deciding to be in Love”, it was written by a man who, like Henry, found romance and dating stupid and so didn’t play “the game”. Eventually the man realized he was missing out on companionship, so he gave himself permission to be in love, gave himself permission to play the game. When he did, he realized that all the things that he thought made dating stupid were just little rituals and customs that made getting to know the other person easier.

  Henry knew he shouldn’t be taking advice from a magazine article, but this one had really thrown him for a loop. What would happen if he gave himself permission to be with Akta? If he gave himself permission to be vulnerable and open with her, no matter how frightening that seemed?

  Sitting down on the bed, he rubbed his tired eyes, grimacing as the paper crinkled under his ass. He needed to clean up and get some sleep. As he scooped the last of the paper bits into the garbage can, the phone rang.

  Henry looked at the phone and a cold feeling slithered through him.

  “Hello.”

  “They’re here.” Luke’s voice was grim.

  “Who?” Henry asked, but he had a bad feeling he knew.

  “Blackwolf—at least, that’s what we think.”

  “Where?”

  “The set. Cali and Seling are there. We can’t reach them by phone.”

  “Shit. How far away are you?”

  “Tokaki, Runako and Michael are already on their way.” Luke paused, then said. “Henry, Maeve was keening.”

  As a banshee, Maeve could see both the future and the past. When someone she was close to was about to die, she knew, and she would keen—the sound humans called the banshee’s wail.

  “For Seling?” Henry whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Seling was dying, or dead.

  A feeling of clarity settled over Henry. If Blackwolf had tracked them down in LA, it was over—they’d lost. Their secret had been exposed, now their enemies were here. If not tonight, then in the next few days they would die or be forced to leave, go back to the Clan and hide, or prepare the rest of the monsters for the coming war.

  “Goodbye,” Henry said to his friend as he hung up the phone.

  He should go to the set, he should help fight off Blackwolf, he should be with his friends and brothers at the end.

  He looked at the wall, at the record of human customs and traditions surrounding what they called love. In that moment, Henry knew that what was up there wasn’t love. Love was something deeper, something more primal.

  Love was the emotion that drove him to, when faced with the end, seek out the one person he cared about most.

  Henry ran for the balcony, stripping as he went. By the time he was outside, he’d changed from a human man to an ink-black monster with red wings.

  He flew low, fast and hard, not bothering to go high enough to hide himself in the clouds. None of that mattered anymore. The only thing he cared about was getting to Akta.

  In less than five minutes, he careened to a halt in her backyard. He knew that inside her alarm would be beeping, signaling that something large was moving around outside. The light in Akta’s bedroom clicked on.

  Henry went to the patio door and looked up at the small security camera mounted on the corner of the house. A second later, the living room light clicked on.

  “Henry?” Akta was wearing a soft robe, her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  Bowing his head, he changed, shifting from monster to man. The emotions inside him were still bubbling hot, but now he wouldn’t scare her with his black skin and red eyes. “No, it’s not. Open the door.”

  Akta went to a panel on the wall and disengaged the security system before sliding the door open. Naked, he stepped into her living room.

  Her eyes were wide and dark in the dim light. Her lips were soft and full. “Henry, what is it?”

  “I didn’t want it to end before I had a chance to do this.”

  Henry grabbed Akta and kissed her.

  She gasped just before his lips closed over hers.

  This kiss wasn’t like the performance they’d been putting on for the camera. This was just between them, a way for him to show her what he felt.

  Akta’s arms twined around his neck and her whole body went soft. She seemed to flow against him as if they were made for one another. He tentatively cupped her ribs, and when she made a happy little sound, he slid his hands around her back, holding her against him.

  She pulled back, and they were so close he could see every eyelash. She had pretty eyelashes.

  “Henry.” Her fingertips stroked his face, tracing the line of his eyebrow, then his cheekbone. “Why now?”

  With a start, he remembered why he’d come, remembered that this was it, that this was the end for them. Over before it began.

  Before he could explain, someone hammered at the door.

  Henry pushed her towards the hall, whispering. “Get in the bathroom. Lock the door.”

  “What? What’s going on?”

  “Akta, wake up!” Lena demanded. “Turn off the alarm!”

  Henry didn’t trust the voice. Motioning Akta to safety, he crept toward the door. Through the peephole, he could see Lena, Margo and Jane standing on the front porch.

  “Lena,” Henry said, “are you alone?”

  “Henry! I’m with Margo and Jane.”

  “Is there anyone else with you?”

  “What? No.” Lena’s voice was impatient…impatient and afraid.

  “He thinks we were followed or that someone is standing around the corner with a gun.” Jane’s voice was soft, despite the tension that crackled in the air.

  “Oh.” Even through the door, he could hear Lena exhale. “Henry, we’re alone. Let us in.”

  Standing back, Henry changed. He pushed it, forcing his body to transform in a matter of seconds. Pain spiked through his skull as bone and flesh broke and tore, only to reform. It was only when he was near the end of the change that he realized he might have made a terrible mistake. He’d just been kissing Akta, and the residual feelings might be enough to influence his skin color. But when he looked at his hand, it was inky black with red claws.

  Opening the door, he watched the women recoil—it was just a half step back, a move born of instinct, not intellect.

  Lena recovered first, pushing her way past Henry. “I thought you were going to help them fight,” she said.

  Guilt stabbed through him at her words.

  “I’m glad he’s here,” Jane said quietly.

  She looked pale, almost ghostly with her blonde hair and too-light skin. She dropped on the couch and placed a hand over her belly.

  Akta was standing in the hallway, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on, why are you here?”

  Margo looked at Henry, who shook his head. Margo turned back to her friend. “We’re under attack.”

  “What? No.” Akta stumbled over to Jane, taking the other woman’s hands. “Who?”

  “We think it’s Blackwolf. We don’t know how they found us. I can only assume it was those fucking pictures.” Margo started pacing. “Oren called—he was with Maeve, and somehow she knew Seling was in trouble.”

  “Not in trouble,” Henry said. He didn’t want the women to labor under false pretenses. “Seling is dying. Maeve is a banshee. She knows when someone close to her, someone she cares about, is dying.”

  Akta looked around the room. “Where’s Cali?”

  Margo covered her face with her hands. A sob es
caped her. Lena started rubbing her shoulders. Margo took a few deep breaths, wiped her face and said, “She’s with Seling. She was going to seduce him tonight. I went to her place and even got her some lingerie and brought it to the set.”

  “They’re at the set?”

  “Yes. That’s where Luke, Runako, Michael and Tokaki are going.”

  “Did someone warn Jo?”

  “Yes. She says there’s a secure room in the basement of her studio building. She’s going to hide out there, but she’s probably in less danger than…than us.”

  Akta jumped up, went to the alarm panel and started pushing buttons. Then she turned on her TV, pressed a few more buttons and the feed from the six security cameras appeared on the screen.

  “Impressive,” Margo said. “When did you have that installed?”

  Akta’s mouth was set in a grim line. “A few months ago. Don’t open any doors or windows. I also set the motion detectors in the bedrooms, so we need to stay in here, the kitchen or the bathroom.”

  They looked around the room, each person meeting the others’ gazes in acknowledgment of what they now faced.

  Akta went to the kitchen and emerged with bottles of water and wine. “We’ll be okay,” she said. “We’ll be okay. They’ll rescue Seling and Cali, and get the bad guys.” She passed out bottles of water, forcing each person to take one, then opened the wine.

  As Henry looked at them—these smart, talented humans who’d risked their lives for him and his Clan—Henry wished they’d never met. He wished that Luke and Lena hadn’t gone on that first date, that they’d never started this project. If they hadn’t, the women—Akta most of all—would now be safe. They’d live happy lives full of love and laughter, never knowing monsters were real, never knowing his Clan’s struggle to survive.

  After a few minutes, everyone settled down to wait. The tension and fear was still thick enough to make the air heavy.

  Henry positioned himself by the wall where he could see both the sliding and front doors. Akta came up to him.

  “You’re here because of the attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “You came here…and you kissed me…” her gaze searched his face, “…because you thought we might not survive the night.”

  Henry nodded. “And to protect you.”

  “Oh.”

  Henry had no idea what that meant, or why she suddenly looked so disappointed. She gave him a small smile, then returned to her seat beside Jane.

  Lena’s phone rang. “It’s Luke!”

  “Where the hell were you?” Luke’s voice was low with anger, and he spoke in their native tongue rather than English.

  Henry turned, hands in fists at his side. They were in human form, in Akta’s backyard, waiting to hear from Runako about how the body disposal had gone. Luke had been torn up, but Michael had easily healed him. Seling, who almost hadn’t made it, was inside with Cali and the other women.

  They’d won the battle, with no casualties on their side. Maeve, Tokaki and Runako were dealing with Blackwolf—both the bodies and the survivors, though no one really wanted to ask what Maeve had done with the men who were still alive at the end of the battle.

  “You should have been there. We needed help.”

  “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else Henry could say.

  “You’re sorry?” Michael was resting against the table, but when he looked up, his eyes were streaked with lightning, a sign of anger that normally only happened when he was in his true form. If it was spilling over to his human form, he must be livid.

  “I came here to protect the women.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—protecting Akta had been one of the reasons he’d come.

  “Bullshit, I didn’t tell you they were coming here. You were supposed to come help us fight.” Luke was seething with anger. “I never pegged you for a coward.”

  Henry’s fist was back, ready to strike, but he calmed himself, taking a step back. He wanted to deny the accusation, but he couldn’t. He was a coward, not because he hadn’t gone to fight, but because he let fear keep him away from Akta.

  Henry made an effort to relax, then stepped forward. “I’m sorry. There was something I needed to do, before we left.”

  “Left?”

  They all jumped as Maeve appeared from thin air beside them. As a banshee, she looked more human than they did, except for the eyes. If you looked at her eyes you knew she wasn’t human.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, looking between the three of them.

  “Home,” Henry answered. “It’s over. We failed.”

  Maeve cocked her head to the side. “Nothing failed.”

  Henry frowned.

  Luke, sounding much calmer, said, “We think we’re okay. Blackwolf clearly knows where we are, but we can beef up security—our guards are all alive, they were just stun-gunned.”

  “You killed people. That’s going to attract attention.”

  “Runako is dumping the bodies. From what we know of Blackwolf, most of them are ex-military. He’s dumping them at the naval base. We hope the military will—because they’re former soldiers—keep it an internal investigation, at least for a while.”

  Henry looked at them. They’d been found—it was over.

  Wasn’t it?

  “So, what? You think we can just keep going like this didn’t happen?”

  “Things will have to change,” Michael said.

  “It’s better, now that we know who leaked the pictures,” Maeve said.

  They all looked at the Seer. “Was it Nell, the location manager?” Michael asked. She’d been on their short list of suspects.

  “It was.”

  “And is she…” Luke didn’t finish the question.

  “We don’t have to worry about her.”

  Henry looked at his friends. Maeve could be seriously scary.

  “So the leak is neutralized, Blackwolf is taken care of—at least the ones who were here.” Luke looked at Henry. “Our discussion isn’t done, but tonight there are other things we need to take care of.”

  Only hours ago, he was sure it was all over, but it seemed he’d been wrong. Henry followed his Clansmen into the house.

  Chapter Six

  Henry nodded as his talent wrangler walked him through that day’s filming. He only heard every third word and had to hope that the no-nonsense Gena would just tell him where he needed to be. He hadn’t slept more than four hours at a time over the past week as the production shot into high gear.

  Everyone on set knew about the leaked photos. Nell, the location manager, had suffered a mental breakdown and been admitted to the hospital. None of the Calypso Productions owners—Lena, Jane, Margo, Cali and Akta—had made an official statement about Nell and the photos, but most of the crew seemed ready to assume that Nell had leaked the images because of her breakdown.

  They had told the crew that their security guards had been attacked by people coming on set looking for information. Security was tripled, with Michael and Tokaki, the only male monsters who weren’t acting in the movie, taking their own guard duty shifts at night.

  “Is that acceptable, Mr. Henry?” Gena tapped a pen on her clipboard.

  Too tired to do anything but nod—though he had no idea what she’d said—Henry let Gena lead him to the wardrobe trailer. Halfway there, Henry stopped, attention caught by the vision of loveliness exiting the makeup trailer. Akta was wearing a long white dress, her hair up in a sleek bun on top of her head.

  She was shooting the scene where her character, Padma, was confronted by reporters after pictures of her and Henry’s character, Ebon, were published. The first half of the movie was a story of lovers reunited, while the second was one of lovers having to flee from both their peoples, because they fit in nowhere.

  The emotions in these scenes were painfully close to the truth for Henry.

  He watched as she lifted her skirts to keep them off the dirty ground, nodding at something Cali was saying to her as they walked toward the set
.

  “Mr. Henry.” Gena touched his arm. “Please, we need to go.”

  “Sorry, I’m ready.”

  As he sat down in a chair, ready to be fussed over, Henry couldn’t help but think about Akta.

  It had been a week since the night of the attack…and the kiss. He wanted, needed, to talk to her, but Henry had the feeling that Akta was avoiding him. Now he wondered if everything they’d talked about had been a lie. Why would she be avoiding him?

  As dirt was added to his face, Henry made a resolution. The production was transitioning to a new location tomorrow, so they had the night off. Tonight he’d talk to Akta.

  She’d been expecting this, and he hadn’t disappointed her.

  When the backyard alarms chimed, Akta checked the video feed in time to see Henry—all eight feet of blue monster—setting the clothes he was carrying on a lounger before changing to human. By the time he was dressed and knocking on her patio door, Akta had decanted a bottle of red.

  Holding her long knit sweater closed over the silk PJ pants and cotton tank top she wore, she opened the door and let him in.

  “Hello, Henry.”

  “Akta.” He closed the door behind him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I figured. I got us food. It’s warming up.”

  Going to the kitchen, she checked the plates and bowls of Thai food she’d put in there to keep warm after they were delivered an hour ago.

  “You got me food?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know I was coming?”

  He sounded so disgruntled that a little smile pulled at her lips. “I guessed.”

  “I hate being predictable.”

  “You’re a lot of things, Henry, but you’re not predictable.”

  He took two glasses out of the cupboard and poured them each wine. He knew her house as well as she did. She couldn’t even begin to count the times he’d been here, either alone or with others.

  He took the glasses to her small dining room, then grabbed place mats from a drawer in the buffet.

  “Henry isn’t my name.” He slid past her to get silverware but didn’t meet her eyes.