CHAPTER 11: LIAM
The paparazzi were getting worse every day and veterans told me it was just the beginning. I was starting to associate outdoors with danger and indoors with safety. Lately, so much of my vision had been tunnel; focus on the door to the club; the store; the studio; and get to it. It wasn’t really acceptable for male actors, especially at my age, to have bodyguards. So I was on my own. I weaved through the crowd, keeping my head down and my mouth shut as I tumbled through the door to the club.
The atmosphere inside was smoky. The club was packed to the rafters even though the sun was just setting. Every hour was Happy Hour in Hollywood. All I wanted was a stiff drink, perhaps an illicit cigarette, and to get lost in the crowd.
“Triple Vodka on the rocks,” I half screamed, half signed to the barman, who nodded. Bar language was different than regular language and I had a theory that only actors succeeded at it because of their extensive facial expressions and powerful lungs.
My drink arrived swiftly in a tall water glass that tempted me just to take a few swift chugs and send it back. Instead I gripped it and turned around to look for an empty table. There weren’t any actual seats - just the tall bar tables where people half stood and half danced the night away.
Squinting into a dark corner, there was a table with only one person standing there, alone. Getting closer, I was stunned. And that didn’t usually happen in the land of Hollywood beauty. Tall and thin; she was dressed all in black, with a sheet of dark hair falling down her back. Her skin was as pale as snow and her eyes were rimmed with kohl. She didn’t seem to be performing the usual charade of a single person in a club. Instead, she truly seemed to be absorbed in her own world, quite content in her loneliness.
“LIAM!” I turned around, surprised to find Kaitlin and William crunched along a table full of familiar faces. They were mostly actors, but some were behind the camera; a producer and a makeup artist. “Come here! Scrunch over everyone, make room for Liam!”
“Uh…” I paused a moment, looking at the smiling faces that welcomed me. I suppose if I wanted to be alone I shouldn’t have come out to a club…yet, from behind me, I could feel the mystery woman. I could feel her eyes burning through me. I glanced over my shoulder, and found, to my surprise, that she was looking right at me. “Perhaps in a bit…I’m meeting someone.”
Everyone laughed and nodded knowingly. Apparently my reputation for womanizing was well known, as it should be. But this…this felt different. This woman, even as I approached her, was a divine creature. There wasn’t one ounce of imperfection that I could see on her; not one wrinkle or blemish. She did not react as I neared her as most people did these days. Instead, a slow smile spread across her face.
“Bonjour,” she said, slowly.
“Hello,” I replied, pointing to the empty spot at the table. God, she was beautiful. “Can I …stand here?” When exactly did I turn into a quivering child? There was something about her that made me unable to take my eyes off her.
“Of course.” When she spoke, she had a thick French accent that added to her exoticness.
“I’m Liam.” I extended my hand and she shook it. Her fingers were thin and her nails were perfectly manicured. What surprised me was the coolness of her skin, even in the sweaty club.
“Selene,” she drawled, her eyes giving me the once over that I had given other women many times over the past few years.
“And what do you do?” I asked her. With looks like this, I was certain she was in the industry.
“I’m an … ambassador,” she said smoothly, and I assumed by her French accent that she meant between France and here. I was impressed. I took a sip of my drink and watched how she moved ever so slightly to the music. “And you?”
I raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anyone in this town who didn’t know who I was. Either she was lying or she really had just arrived.
“I’m an actor.” Already the few sips of the drink were warming me. I felt more relaxed and utterly entranced, watching her every movement.
“Ah…acting. Believe in untrue circumstances,” she said, with a small smile. “And do you believe things that used to be untrue, Liam?”
“Of course,” I nodded, and she leaned in, those exotic eyes glinting in the light.
“I hope I can make you believe a few, tonight.”
“I hope you can,” I replied with a smirk, my hand inching across the table to take hers again.
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours,” she replied, drawing closer to me. She didn’t have a bag or purse to pick up and I instantly liked that about her. Women could be so complicated, I wanted something simple. “It’d be better if you were to wake up there.”
“Alright then,” I wrapped my arm around her waist, which was small and lean but compact with muscle. She leaned in and her lips teased the soft flesh behind my ear. It was all I could manage to not grab her and take her right there. But before we got to the door, I stopped her. “Listen…I’m rather well known here. So it’s likely there’ll be a cloud of paparazzi outside.”
“They’ll forget one night,” she said, huskily in my ear. “But you won’t.”
Sure enough, the cameras began flashing as soon as we exited. I put my arm around her neck, pulling her head down a bit to protect her identity. She didn’t seem to mind or even notice as her hand slipped under my shirt, indicating things to come. I chalked up the oddness in her speech to the fact that English was clearly her second language. She spoke slowly, and deliberately, looking at me for what I assumed was an indication that I understood her words. Still, there was no lack of confidence that usually came with speaking a second language … no pause of uncertainty or flicker of embarrassment. It was almost as if she was trying to imply a double meaning with everything she said. But whatever that meaning was, I was too lost in her eyes to get it.
I felt drunk on the limo ride back, my senses swimming. It didn’t make any sense, I had left my drink half untouched. But something about this woman, her accent in the setting sun, turned me into a stumbling teenager about to get his first kiss. We barely made it up to my apartment before the clothes began to come off.
I locked the door and pushed her down on the bed. She ran her hands over my body as I struggled to unbutton her dress. I stood up as the sunlight disappeared, causing her to moan.
“Just wait,” I said, heading towards the light switch. “You’re the most stunning creature I have ever seen and I want to see every inch of you.”
I flicked the light switch on, and my heart almost stopped there and then.
“Creature is right,” she said, with a sneer, showing fangs. She was what I brought home, yet extremely different. Paler than before, with dark circles around her eyes, her mouth had stretched as fangs appeared. And those beautiful eyes were now black as night.
I stumbled back against the wall, shocked. I felt my breath coming in gasps as I tried to make sense of what I saw in front of me. How much, exactly, had I had to drink?
“What the…” I said, as she got up, approaching me with such slow deliberate movements that I knew I was finished. “What are you?”
“Well, Liam, I’m what you are,” she replied. “Or…what you will be. You’ll be our ambassador now, and you can never hide. So you’ll keep us safe.”
“What are you talking about?” I gasped, reaching behind me. Even though I knew it was there, my hand was trembling so badly I couldn’t open the door knob. “What are you?”
“I'm a vampire, Liam. And so are you.”
I put my hands up to block her from coming at me, but she was impossibly strong and fast.
“Liam, Liam,” she said, as she held my hands in a death grip, almost crushing my bones. “Don’t look so afraid. You were chosen from thousands. With your fame, you will protect our identity forever; we know you’ll do anything to make sure our secret is safe. Because now our secret is also yours.”
The last thing I remembered was the instant pain of her fangs sinking into my neck; the slow agony as her poison filled my blood. I felt my head hit the ground, and then, blessed darkness.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When I awoke, it was still dark. My head was pounding, my mouth was dry, and I felt like I was coming off a nine day bender. I groaned, dragging myself upwards from my spot on the floor, not entirely sure how I got there.
My stomach felt like it was made of acid and I couldn’t decide if I was ravenously hungry or about to be sick. To be safe, I made my way to my bathroom, my legs unsteady as I leaned against the wall. I was trying to make sense of what happened; trying to remember.
When I turned on the light, however, it all came back.
A scream came out of my throat, almost animalistic as I saw myself in the mirror. Like her, I was pale as a ghost, my teeth long and sharp, and my eyes dark as night. I looked again, and again, each time unbelieving.
“No. It can’t be real. It can’t be real,” I said. In my pocket, my phone beeped, and I reached for it instinctively. My horror was not at the 69 missed calls, 200 emails and 47 text messages that flashed on the screen. My horror was the date above it. I had lost nearly three days.
Frantically, I opened my contact book scrolling through it. I wanted comfort. I wanted safety. I wanted someone to explain what was happening to me. But as I went through the names, I realized there was no one I could trust who would believe such a wild tale. I didn’t even fully believe it myself. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a joke, a drug laced trip. Perhaps I had drunk more than I should. Perhaps I hit my head and my mind was making up stories.
But nothing explained my appearance in the mirror or the fact that I craved thick liquid to slurp; warm and salty. I craved blood.
I had to find her. I had to figure out what was happening.
I grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap - the standard garb of celebrities trying to hide. My clothes felt disgusting but I allowed myself no time to change.
I hit the pavement quickly, a light drizzle of rain meaning it was mostly empty. My energy burned inside me, and I felt I could walk the five miles to the club; my last link to her.
Until I smelled him.
There was a man coming towards me, his clothes ripped and his left hand gripped over his right. He was walking quickly, his jaw set in what I guessed must be pain. I could smell the blood coming from the wound on his hand, and I couldn’t help but stop.
“You ok, man?” I asked, clenching my fists. All I could think about was the warm liquid that was pouring from his veins.
“I just got mugged!” he exclaimed. “Bastard knifed me and took my wallet and phone. Dude, do you have a cell phone? Please, I need to call the police.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I said, reaching into my pocket and handing it to him.
“Thanks, dude,” he said, and removed his hand from his wound to take the phone and dial. There were emails with subject lines that revealed my name, and he must have seen it. However, the surprise on his face was not my concern. “Hey, are you…”
I couldn’t control my muscles, couldn’t stop myself from launching forward at him, bearing my fangs and letting out an animalistic growl. We crashed into the alley behind us, his screams echoing through the passage way. With anger I couldn’t explain, I hit him, my hand connecting so hard with his face, it drew blood.
That was too much for me, and my body moved before my mind thought. I sunk my fangs into his neck, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was like I was famished, and this man was a buffet. I drank until his body was dry.
Drawing back when there was no more blood, I began to shake again. His body lay, drained, in front of me, so obviously dead that I knew there was no point in calling 9-1-1. Tears began to fall down my face, coming in great gasps, and I couldn’t hold back. I felt sadness and fear wash over me in ways I never felt before. I was cold, the rain soaking through my clothes, and while the external pain of earlier had passed, the tightness in my chest was growing unbearable.
The man’s hand still gripped my cell phone, and I reached out slowly, taking it. The battery was dying, although there was probably enough juice left for one call.
When I moved to Hollywood five years ago, I hadn’t left my home on good terms. My family thought trying to be an actor was the stupidest move I could make. It was a pipedream full of bad morals and worse behavior, and if I left, I left without their blessing. Over the last five years, the angry phone calls from home became shorter, and then stopped coming. They hadn’t changed their minds. They didn’t approve, so contact was cut.
And as the glamorous shiny world of fast friends and faster lovers surrounded me, my friends back home eventually drifted out of my life as well. They weren’t replaced. No, Hollywood wasn’t a place of a tight brotherhood where you shared things. You shared drinks, and women, and strip clubs. You flashed your money around as fast as you could, and bragged, but there wasn’t any friendship.
I brought the phone to my ear, listening to it ring overseas. There was still one person who hadn’t abandoned me; one person, who through it all had told me to follow my dream and listened when I talked. One person who believed every word out of my mouth and gave me the best advice I could have ever received.
“Hello?” came a voice over the phone, gruff with age. That’s when I lost it; the tears turning to sobs and hysterics. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe. I was acting like a child instead of a man. “Hello? Who’s there? Liam?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself for a few moments.
“Grandpa? I need your help. Can I come over?”
I heard a pause over the phone line, and a million questions catch in his throat. But he asked none of them.
“Of course, my boy. Tell me when your plane gets in.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
At first, Peter didn’t believe me. Anyone who did right off the bat probably needed help themselves. But it only took one night, one night where he stayed in the room and watched the horrible transformation, to believe every word that tumbled out of my mouth from then on.
Peter took pity on me and allowed me to escape Hollywood; offering me a job as a teacher at the Academy for the rest of the term. I could still be immersed in acting, and yet stay out of Hollywood.
We found out that alcohol stunned the cravings, as it stunned most of your bodies other senses. And, before we figured out that I needed to be tied up every night if I didn’t want to kill anybody, I found Porsche.
I had stumbled upon a redneck high school party in the woods, a bunch of poor kids with beer kegs and bad wine. Drinking from one of them could easily be explained away as an accident. Kids will do stupid things and no one is ever sober enough to remember.
But just as I was about to make my move, Porsche, already 12 years into her dance training and on the brink of her own fame, grabbed me, her confidence enhanced by her popularity. She recognized me, of course, everyone still did, and she knew she wanted to land the superstar at the party. But when she touched me, everything disappeared. My cravings and fangs receded and my body began to warm up. She is one of the most powerful Shields to ever live, and she was unclaimed, living in solidarity as well.
Her identity and skill must also be kept a secret. While supernatural beings can use Shields to protect them and even seek them out, Shields are also mortal and usually their powers intensify in illness, like Porsche. Once claimed by a supernatural being - a witch, a werewolf, a vampire - they usually don’t survive past the first battle simply because their mortality stands out in a room full of immortals.
I didn’t want to go to battle with her. What I wanted was a friend who could understand me and help guide me through this supernatural life. I didn’t claim her, didn’t take her to a witch to put a binding spell on us. There was no need for formalities. Our friendship began on shocked common ground and remained strong on the understanding that we needed each other.
It was Porsche who told me how to survive as a vampire. Together, we figured out everything I needed to know. We figured out when the transformation started and stopped; we figured out that animal blood could do it, if need be. We managed to separate what we thought were myths about vampires from facts. We could walk in sunlight. We breathe, eat, drink and sleep in sunlight. We are alive in the daytime, only cursed at night. At night, we are immortal creatures with no heart beat or pulse; just a thirst for blood. The legends were correct in the weapons of our death. Wooden stakes through the heart and fire were our bane. Decapitation also worked, although that was hard; with our veins hardening and our muscles turning partially to stone every night. Even minor good things, like having a horrid cold during the day and feeling fine at night, didn’t cheer me up.
Selfishly wanting to keep her by my side; wanting someone to understand, I gave her the first scholarship that was mine to give so she could remain at the school and help me. Peter retired at the end of the term, giving me the position of headmaster. He was thinking of doing it anyway, and with my arrival and lack of ability to return, he saw the perfect opportunity. The role of Headmaster suited me perfectly. I could teach the classes I wanted, put on the shows I loved, and I was important enough to blow everyone off at night. My reputation as an arrogant egotistic actor only came in handy, as people gave me the space I needed once the sun went down.
The reputation at the Academy only grew with my presence, and within six months, we were the biggest and the best. We could charge anything we wanted, and people would pay. Our productions became on par with Broadway and the West End. Even when Porsche left for the Russian National Ballet, visiting only occasionally, I thought I would be fine. I had settled into a life that made me happy. I could survive this. I figured out I needed to be locked away. I didn’t want to cause a scene anymore; I didn’t want to kill or leave bodies; or have any more attention. I could live on animals most nights and no one got hurt. Except me.
And that’s when Selene started to show up again. She only came at night when I was locked away feeding on a rabbit or a squirrel. And she was even more irresistible than the first night I met her. By night, both in our demon form, she had power over me as my sire. It was like I was a puppet and she was my master. When she was here, I was under her spell and she owned every inch of me. She asked for the key to the chains and I told her where it was without hesitation. When she appeared, we would roam the streets with my mind under her influence and my hand locked in hers.
I would spend weeks in depression after she left; my human emotions coming strong when the sun rose. Covering up those deaths, deaths that I know I caused, was the hardest of all. Occasionally, I considered turning myself in and giving the families some peace. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it … not with the repercussions it would cause.
She chose me because of my power in Hollywood, my influence around the world, because she knew I would do anything to protect my image, and she was right. I knew how to cover up media stories and press releases. I knew how to spin a tale to make it seem innocent or accidental. Soon, whether I wanted to or not, it was me who was making phone calls, spinning tales, protecting vampires around the world whenever they did anything that could reveal what they really were. There was even a photo of me released one night, taken from God knows where, when I was in vampire form. It was an easy spin. I just claimed it was a makeup test for a new theater role, but it scared me. I became more of a recluse; throwing myself into the theater, pushing everyone but Peter and Porsche away. I increased security and never left the grounds. I protected the school and myself every way I could.
Eventually, Selene stopped showing up and I currently was 8 months without her presence - which scared me even more. Either she had grown tired of me, or she was biding her time, waiting for a moment whose perfect reason was unclear to me. But whatever the reason, she wasn’t here and hadn’t been for months.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As I neared the end of my story, I felt my fangs begin to recede.
“What time is it, Amy?” I asked, jerking her out of the trance that she had settled into. It had broken my heart to not see a flicker of reaction on her face as she listened and I was becoming increasingly anxious to hear her thoughts. But like a good actress, she hid the emotions she did not want me to see.
“5 AM,” she replied, glancing at her watch. Her voice was dead too, and it nearly killed me. I knew I was transforming back. I could already feel my breath coming stronger and the familiar stirring in my chest as my heart began to beat.
“You must be tired,” I said, gently, but she still didn’t move. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”
“It has,” She said, unfolding herself and slowly rising.
“Amy,” I called, when I finally couldn’t take it anymore. She glanced at me, her eyes heavy with fatigue. “It doesn’t change anything. I ... I ... love you. And I’ve never said that to anyone before. Ever. Amy, there’s a million things that we don’t know about each other, although I would be happy to spend a life time telling you everything. But the thing you need to know right now, is that I spent my whole life alone. I was a teenager in Hollywood and I made stupid mistakes, of course. I played the big roles in the movies, but I didn’t for one second believe in star crossed lovers. I didn’t believe two people were meant to be together, or even could possibly want each other beside one night in the darkness. But then I met you, Amy, and everything changed. My whole world fell upside down, even though I was not searching for it. I thought I wanted the darkness, and I found the light instead. I need you, Amy.” I meant it, desperately trying to search her eyes for some flicker of hope. But I saw none. She shook her head, taking a few steps back.
“I need to get some sleep, Liam,” she replied. “I have class in a few hours.”
“You can … not go to class?” I offered. “We can talk some more. Anything. Anything you want.” The last thing I wanted was for her to back away and leave.
“No,” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk some more. I don’t … I don’t want to talk to you again.”
“Amy!” I cried, feeling my heart crack.
“I can’t do this, Liam,” she said, and I could see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You’re immortal...and I’m too mortal for this.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I tried to argue. “Amy, please”
“No. Your heart is cursed, Liam; cursed and belonging to someone else. That much is clear.” She was almost at the door now. I shook my head, wanting to cry out that none of this was true, but words escaped me. “Please leave me alone. Please just leave me alone.”
And then she was gone, the door slamming behind her. I heard her footsteps run up the stairs, as if the devil was behind her. And I guess he was.
The sadness hit me like a rock. Tears pricked my eyes and turned into hysterics. I was so tired and hurt. Emotion was controlling me like Selene often did. I couldn’t lose Amy. Not this way, not like this.
A million horrible thoughts poured into my mind, none of them logical. The only one that made sense was a fact: I was alone in this room, and in this world. Utterly and truly alone.