The Last of the Monsters (7 page)

“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 escaped 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.

Akta stiffened, looking at his back as he closed the drawer. “You chose the name Henry when you came to LA—I knew that.” She’d never heard him mention his given name.

“My real name is Mir’ek.”

“Mir’ek.” Akta sounded it out. He started to walk away, but she touched his arm. He turned to look at her and she tried to pair that name with his face, to see him as Mir’ek, not Henry. She couldn’t—he was Henry to her. Frustrating, fascinating, sexy Henry.

“Do you want me to call you Mir’ek?”

“No.” His gaze met hers. “I like Henry. I just wanted you to know my real name.”

Akta took a breath. “Thank you.”

In silence, they finished setting the table. When Akta pulled hot plates and bowls from the oven, Henry set out trivets, then grabbed oven mitts to help her carry everything to the table.

The strange mood that had gripped Akta since the night of the attack was fading. She’d been both angry with Henry and wary of him. She wanted to talk to him and wanted to pretend nothing had happened. But this—sitting at her dining room table with Henry across from her—felt right. She relaxed in his presence, felt more herself than she did with anyone else.