A Monster and a Gentleman

by Lila Dubois

  “Seling? But he’s so...”

  “Mellow? He hides his anger, and his pain, well.”

  “If they know about you why isn’t that information public? Why isn’t it all over the news?”

  “They think they are waging a war against evil demons, while at the same time they hope to find a way to use us to make themselves strong.”

  “There was something Jo said the other day I didn’t understand. She said the wolf people, or something like that. Did she mean Blackwolf?”

  “You know them?”

  “They’re a security company, only they provide the kind of security that comes with guns mounted on tanks, and everyone who works there is ex-military.”

  “Those are the men.” Maeve bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the hurt and fear that came when they were mentioned.

  “And they know you exist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh...shit.”

  “Yes.”

  “So if they see the...”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  “If I keep talking, will you keep using different curse words?”

  “Crap on a cracker.”

  “Ohh, that’s a good one!”

  Oren shook his head and smiled. Maeve’s belly tingled.

  “The situation was bad enough before I knew all that. Now it’s worse. I guess that explains why you’re here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then maybe we can work together. I came up with some stuff. I’d planned to look into it myself, to clear my name.”

  “Show me what you have.”

  Oren walked out of the room and Maeve stretched. She hadn’t lied to him. In many of his futures, she’d seen success. At least, that’s how she interpreted the vision of him standing onstage clutching more little gold statues to match the ones she’d seen in his past. The females her Clans-men had mated with had told her what the person responsible might be expecting—fame and fortune, appearances on TV and in newspapers. She’d seen those things, but always with an image of him holding a statue or standing with the human mates her Clans-men had chosen, or the males themselves. If his fame came from exposing them, they would not stand with him.

  In other futures, he was one of the first casualties of the war between monsters and humans, dying defending someone she could not see, though she could tell that it was one of her people.

  She wouldn’t tell them, any of them, that if they didn’t find the leak and stop him, nothing they could do would prevent the war.

  Armed with a stack of papers and a roll of Scotch tape, Oren came back into the living room.

  Maeve was now sitting on the couch.

  Well, sitting wasn’t exactly how he’d describe it. She was lying upside down, legs dangling over the back, hair pooled on the floor.

  It was the first time he’d gotten a good look at her without the curtain of hair hiding her body. She was slender but with nicely curved hips and breasts. The short dress—which said I love Los Angeles in sparkly letters—had ridden up to the top of her thighs, and her legs were long and pale as cream. Her breasts were firm mounds under the thin material of her dress.

  Oren yanked his gaze away. She had to be at least fifteen years younger than him, never mind that she was a whole different species.

  “What is that?” She rolled over, righting herself as he took a seat in the chair next to the couch.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. If someone wanted to expose the monsters, there was better footage than the kiss scene. Any of the raw shifting scenes would be better. There’s some really gruesome stuff that might have gotten people’s attention.” They’d filmed the men shifting from human to monster, and monster to human, though they’d planned to only use a few bits of that footage.

  The guys’ transitions from one body to the other would be the bulk of the visual effects department’s work. It was too gruesome to be used, especially when they planned to tell the world it was real—those weren’t the images they wanted to stick with people. They were keeping some untouched footage, such as close-up shots Javier, the second AD, had gotten of bones breaking through skin.

  “You think that the person is not trying to expose us?”

  “No, I think that they couldn’t get any of the more damning footage.”

  “Where is the footage? How would someone get it?”

  “How much do you know about computers?”

  “I do not have one, but I have a smart phone. And I’ve watched lots of TV and movies.”

  Oren looked at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering where she was keeping a phone. “All right, why don’t you just let me know if there’s anything you don’t understand?”

  “I will.”

  Oren took a blank piece of paper from his stack and fished a pen from his pocket. He made a crude flowchart of how the film was transported to him.

  “We’re filming in digital.” He looked at her and when she nodded he kept going. “Depending on where the camera is and what it’s doing, the footage is either sent to a laptop or is sent directly to the editing trailer I have on set. If it’s sent directly to my system, then there’s nothing stored in the computers that run the monitors.”

  “What about when it’s stored on the computer, could someone have copied that?”

  “They could have, but I don’t see how. We’re talking about massive amounts of information for every second of film. To copy the footage would take time and equipment, and the computers come to me every time a camera is broken down.”

  “Who breaks down the cameras?”

  “I’ll get to that in a second.” Oren drew lines and boxes, trying to show her the path the information took. “I take all the footage to the offices, which is where we were doing the dailies. Dailies are—”

  “I saw Living in Oblivion.”

  Oren laughed. “Okay, that might not be the best movie about making a movie, but it covers the basics.” She smiled at him, and the desire to kiss her was so strong that he had to slip his free hand under his leg so he wouldn’t reach out and grab her. “The dailies. Right. So I’d do the dailies in my office. Lots of people would come watch—almost all the above-the-line and department head people.”

  “But all they’re doing is watching.”

  “Yes...” He didn’t say anything else, wanting to see if she came to the same conclusion he had.

  “But they could have taken a picture of the movie, a picture of a picture.”

  “Exactly.” Oren whipped out his phone and pulled up the blog. “Do you see these numbers and letters on the bottom of the picture? Those help me edit, and they show up on the dailies, so I know that’s where they got it. If they’d known enough to download the footage, they probably would have had the software to strip that off.”

  Maeve tipped her head to the side. “Whoever took these pictures—” she pointed to his phone, “—did it on the day you were watching this scene.”

  “Exactly.”

  “This is good. The fewer people I must touch, the better. Is there anyway to know who was there?”

  “That’s what I’ve been working on.” Oren turned over his stack of papers, revealing his suspect list. “Based on what I remember and who’s usually there, these are all the people who were in the room when we watched the dailies.”

  Oren had printed out IMDb entries for everyone but the Calypso Production owners—ten people in total. He spread them out on the table facing Maeve, who leaned forward to examine each picture. When her hair fell over the sheets, she grabbed it and quickly braided it.

  “Who do you think did it?” she asked after she’d examined each sheet.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t want to think any of them did it.”

  “This one.” Maeve pointed to Jo’s sheet. “She is mated to Tokaki.”

  “Mated?”

  Maeve looked up at him. “Humans are able to form and break relationships with relative ease. For my people, it is different
. Once we found the being we are meant to love, our mate, we stay with them for life. We do not divorce, do not cheat.”

  “Wow, I had no idea.”

  “And it is not simply a practice among my people. It is part of us. Mates can find each other, know when the other is in danger.”

  “So it’s like...some kind of magic.”

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  “And they can be mated to a human?”

  “Can be? Yes. But it is not something we’ve had in recent memory. All things are possible, but not all things are done.”

  “That makes sense. Wait, when a mons—one of your people is mated to a human, does that human develop powers? I mean, the ability to know where their mate is and all that.”

  Maeve grinned briefly. “All things are possible. I’m sure you would know if the human women had developed that ability. It can be distracting at first.”

  Why was she smiling? Oren frowned until he realized... “They don’t have it now, but they will?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You must not tell anyone.”

  “Okay...but why not?”

  “Knowing the future strips away all the pleasures of discovery.”

  They sat in silence for a moment before Oren shook himself. “So if Jo and Tokaki are mated, that eliminates her from the suspect pool?”

  “No, but it makes her the least likely. The love between mates is very strong. Unless there was a way Tokaki would benefit from this, I doubt she would do it.”

  “Then, at least for now, let’s eliminate her.”

  “Tell me about the others.”

  One by one, Oren took her through the remaining suspects, explaining what they did on the movie and what, if anything, Oren knew about them personally.

  “Pete, the special effects supervisor, is having the time of his life. Because the monsters are real in this movie, most of the effects are back in the camera—meaning they’re being filmed by the camera, rather than being added digitally in post-production. Of the remaining people, I’d say he’s the most enthusiastic about the project and the guys.”

  “We put him at the bottom of the list.”

  “Well, don’t just take my word for it.”

  “I trust you, and time is short, so we must make smart decisions.”

  Oren wrestled with that. He agreed with her, and that’s what he’d been saying since the beginning, but if he was wrong they could waste a lot of time looking into the wrong people.

  “Who is this?” Maeve picked up a sheet.

  “That’s Darryl. Besides me, he had the best access to the footage because he’s the director of photography.”

  “Then he goes to the top. Is there anyone else you know well?”

  “I’ve gotten to know Javier. This is his first assistant director gig.” Oren liked the young man, who hadn’t yet figured out that ego was necessary to survive in this business. Javier seemed to doubt his right to be there, despite his solid credits and good eye. He was from a rough part of L.A. and had ended up in the business through a series of programs that were trying to track minority kids into predominantly white Hollywood.

  After he’d told Maeve all this, she slowly placed Javier’s picture with Darryl’s, at the top of the list.

  “What are you doing? Javier is a good kid.”

  “But he is poor, and you said he seems nervous.”

  “You can’t hold his background against him, and he just doesn’t know how good he is.”

  “Or he wants the money he would get from revealing the truth and is nervous because he’s lying to all of you.”

  Oren bit back another protest. He didn’t want it to be Javier. He really didn’t.

  When they were done, they’d put Jo, Pete and special effects makeup artist Hugh in the low-priority pile. That left six people for them to investigate.

  “When can I touch these people?” Maeve asked, flipping through the sheets.

  “On set tomorrow. They should all be there with the exception of Catherine, the visual effects supervisor.”

  “Why not tonight?”

  “We’re not filming tonight, and besides, I have an idea for someone else we can talk to.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cali and Seling

  It was just past two p.m., and the owners of Calypso Production were assembled in Cali’s trailer on set. Margo and Lena had both been awake since four a.m. as they worked with Vern and the transportation crew to get them set up at today’s location. They’d be here for the next few weeks, so they’d set up a more permanent camp than normal. Jo was still running around with the set decorators turning a clean, organized construction yard in to a deserted creepy battlefield for one of the climactic scenes. They’d filmed a few shots around dawn, and would film more at dusk.

  “Good morning.” Cali slipped in, holding the cup of tea that craft services had made for her.

  “There you are.” Lena flipped through her script pages. “We were worried about you.”

  Jane was partially hidden by a blanket of script pages in all the colors of the rainbow. The final script had only been final for about two days. Jane’s writing credits were for cool, quirky indie pictures, and she hadn’t really understood how much time would be devoted to action scenes. They’d had to cut whole plot lines from the script to get it to work. That meant she was on set with the script supervisor most days.

  “Okay, with those changes I think this whole scene will work.”

  “Why don’t we just stop the movie after Endo is caught by the media?” Akta asked. She was curled up next to Jane in sweats.

  “Why are you so anxious to cut the movie short? You’ve been saying stuff like this for a week.” Lena narrowed her eyes at Akta.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Cali opened her mouth, ready to cut in with a comment about how it was clear that Akta was in love with Henry and she wanted to get away from him, but she closed her mouth.

  “Cali, did you just start to say something and then change your mind and not say it?” Margo looked at her suspiciously

  Three pairs of eyes swiveled to her.

  “Why are you all staring at me?”

  “You always say what you’re thinking. You never hold back,” Lena answered.

  “Well, maybe I should start.”

  Four jaws hit the floor.

  “Who are you and where is our friend Cali?” Akta asked.

  “You know we all value the fact that you speak your mind, but I’m happy for you that you’re censoring a bit. It might make your relationships easier.” The usually diplomatic Jane didn’t know how deep her comment cut.

  “Leave her alone.” Margo rose from her seat and came to Cali, who was still standing at the door, tea in hand. Margo took the cup from her and set it on the counter. “Cali, are you okay?”

  Cali clenched her teeth until the need to cry passed. Last night had been bad—she’d cried for hours and now today she felt raw. “Of course I’m okay. What are we meeting about?”

  “Well, now we’re meeting about you.” Margo shooed away Jane and Akta, who made space on the bench. Margo forced Cali to sit down, then knelt in front of her, blocking her escape. “Talk to us.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Is this about Seling?” Lena asked.

  “No.”

  “Yes.” Margo countered.

  “What happened with Seling?” Akta asked.

  “Cali slept with him, then blew him off the way she always does, but she likes him, really likes him and won’t let herself admit it, because that might mean getting close to him.”

  “Thank you, Margo.” Cali snarled. “I’m fine. I just had a moment last night. It’s all your faults. Everything used to be fine.”

  “You mean everything was fine when we were all single.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because us being single meant that you were
fine being single and didn’t have to face your issues with men and relationships.”

  “Yes. I mean, no.”

  “You mean yes.” Margo looked over at the others. Cali followed her gaze and saw the pitying looks on their faces.

  “Stop.” Cali jumped to her feet, stepping over Margo. “Just stop. I don’t need this.”

  “What don’t you need?”

  “I don’t need you all trying to tell me what to do.” Cali crossed her arms and stared out the window. She felt the first tear roll down her cheek and clenched her hands into fists.

  “That’s rich,” Akta said, “since you love telling everyone else what to do.”

  “Fine. I won’t do that ever again.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then what are you saying?” Cali whirled to face them. There were tears in her eyes, and her breath came in hiccup-gasps.

  “Oh, Cali, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Say what you mean to say.”

  Akta looked to the others, then down at her lap. There were sympathetic tears on Margo’s lashes and Jane’s lip was quivering.

  Lena examined Cali with the cool detachment she could muster in a crisis. “What I’m saying, we’re saying, is that you’ve chosen to cut yourself off from relationships. You’re blunt, rude at times, and that’s part of your charm, but it’s also become your armor. You use it to keep everyone away, especially men.

  “Over the years you’ve ignored and dismissed guys who really cared for you. I know you have your reasons, and that it has to do with your parents—”

  Cali snarled and Lena held up a hand in apology.

  “All I’m saying,” she continued, “is that I don’t think you want to be alone. You say that you don’t need anyone and that you don’t want a relationship, but you said that ten years ago, when we were in college. We’re all different people now. Is that still what you want, or don’t want?”

  “I…can’t. I can’t be with someone.”

  “Oh, honey,” Margo jumped to her feet and hugged Cali. “I know it’s scary, I know.”

  “No, you don’t.” Cali pushed Margo away. “I don’t think you get it, any of you. I can’t do it, I can’t just let someone in to my life.”