A Monster and a Gentleman (13 page)

Maeve turned to the items hung on the door. She selected a dark gray top with loose sleeves and bits of metal around the neck and put it on. It scooped low over her breasts, clung to her waist and flowed over her arms.

Maeve smiled. This was fun.

Oren cursed as he overshot his bird. Tired of playing a game, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and stretched out his legs, nodding to the other bored-looking guy also waiting on the bench outside the dressing rooms. He’d clearly made a tactical mistake bringing Maeve here. If the salesperson who’d been bustling in and out while assuring him they were almost ready for the “fashion show” was any indication, Maeve planned to buy half the store.
 

And since she didn’t have a purse with her and there was no way she was hiding a wallet under that skimpy dress, Oren also had a bad feeling he’d be buying the clothes for her.

A middle-aged woman walked out with one thing in her arms and the guy beside him left. Oren sighed.

“Are you ready?”

The blonde salesperson, looking exceptionally perky in her red polo, clasped her hands together and smiled.
 

“Uh, yes.”

“Your girlfriend looks amazing.”

“She’s not—” But the salesperson left, and Maeve emerged from the dressing room. She wore leggings and a one-shoulder top made of alternating bands of opaque and mesh fabric. A wide piece of fabric over her breasts kept it decent, but he could see the pale skin of her belly though the mesh panels. With her long rope of hair hanging over her bare shoulder, Maeve looked like a celebrity caught by the paparazzi while out doing errands.
 

“Wow, you look so...” He almost said human, but then caught himself. “Good.”

“Thank you.” Maeve held her arms out to her sides and looked down at herself. When she looked up, she was smiling. In that moment, Oren didn’t care how long this took or how much it cost. It was worth it for that smile. “This is fun.”

Oren laughed as Maeve returned to her dressing room. He saw her in skinny jeans and tank tops, short lacy dresses with wide belts and long summery things. Most of the clothes she picked were in tones of silver or pale green, both of which suited her. He commented, admired and even led Maeve in an impromptu waltz when she declared that the dress was made for dancing.

Finally she said, “This is the last one,” as she held out her arms.

Oren motioned for a twirl with his finger. The gray knee-length shorts showed off her calves and slender ankles. On top she wore a pastel green tank top with a plunging neckline. A ribbon held it together over her breasts. When she turned, he saw that there was almost no back to the top, just another piece of ribbon.

“You’re beautiful.”

Maeve licked her lips, examining him from beneath her lashes. “You really think so?”

“I really do.”

She closed her eyes. “You want me—I can feel it.”

Oren jumped to his feet. “We should go.” He motioned to the salesclerk to give him the cart with the clothes she’d bought.
 

“She can’t wear those out.”

“But I want to.”

“Can you ring us up here?” Oren asked.

“But weren’t you going to go get shoes?” The salesclerk looked horrified.

“Ohh, shoes!” Maeve wandered away, still wearing the unpurchased clothes.

Twenty minutes later, and with five pairs of shoes in their arms, Oren and Maeve returned to the counter at the dressing rooms.
 

Another twenty minutes later, and four hundred dollars poorer, Oren and Maeve went to his car, each with an armful of bags. Maeve was wearing a long dress and heeled sandals. As they got in, she pulled her skirt up to her knees and admired her shoes.

Oren shook his head. This day really couldn’t get any weirder.

And yet, he was happy. Happy in a way he didn’t recall ever being before.
 

“Thank you.” Maeve tentatively touched his arm. “Thank you for my clothes. I forgot that I would need money.”

“It was my pleasure.” And, weirdly, it had been.

“Now the blogger woman won’t suspect than I am anything but human.” Maeve’s smile turned into a snarl-like grin.

“No, she won’t, but maybe don’t make that face.”

Maeve’s expression relaxed and she fluttered her lashes at him. “Is this better?”

“Don’t do that either.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me want to kiss you.”
 

Silence filled the car. That wasn’t what Oren had meant to say, but he wasn’t sorry he’d said it.

Maeve said nothing.

Oren hadn’t expected her to be attracted to him. And it was a good thing, because clearly she wasn’t.

He parked at a meter down the street from the coffee shop they were headed to. “We’re here.”

It took Maeve a second to understand what he’d said. She was still focused on him saying he wanted to kiss her.

Men desiring her was nothing new to her, though among her own kind she was too human-looking to be really attractive. But females were scarce, so she’d always had male attention. At least until she’d come into her full power. Much knowledge had been lost when the banshees immigrated to America, and even more was lost when they stopped living as their own clan and joined with the great Clan. Maeve’s father had been of the same breed as Michael, her mother a full banshee. Her mother had died when she was young, and so Maeve had been left to figure out her powers on her own.
 

She’d been watching her Clan bicker and fight as the inevitable of war with humans or mass suicide grew nearer. She’d frantically searched the Everafter for the answer they needed. When none came, she put herself into a trance and decided to try it another way, searching the past instead of the future. Some of the breeds possessed ancestral memory, and it was from one of them that she’d been able to find a moment recorded in the Everafter. Long ago a spell weaver had figured out a way to turn from monster to human and back. The moment had been so important, both in his life and in others’ lives, that even half a millennium later she’d been able to find it in the Everafter.

All she’d needed was to know it was possible. It took her many years, and many failed attempts, but she’d created the spell that allowed them to change, and in doing that was declared the Seer of her people.

After that, no one desired her. They feared and respected her. It had been a lonely fifty years.

“Maeve?”

She shook herself, looking at Oren. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She reached out, wanting to know his feelings, but he opened the door and got out of the car.

If he wanted to kiss her, then why was he walking away?

Maeve climbed out and followed him down the sidewalk. They would talk about his desire to kiss her later. Right now, it was time to find the person who was threatening her people.

When searching for information about who leaked the photos, Oren had read through three months’ worth of blog posts. Despite the constant references to “we”, Oren was fairly sure the blog was run by a single person. The language was too consistent to be two people. Though the blogger never used a name, they mentioned clubs they’d been to and L.A. dining hot spots. Some of those entries included references to “dates who couldn’t keep their dick in their pants”, which made Oren assume that it was a woman, though he knew it was just as likely to be a gay guy. The other thing that he’d learned was that the blogger hung out, apparently all day, at a coffee shop not far from the Screen Actors Guild headquarters. There was a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf across the street with an outdoor patio. Oren himself had been there a few times while waiting for friends who had business at the SAG offices.
 

It wasn’t much to go on, but Oren was hoping they could stop by the coffee shop and identify the blogger. With nothing to go on except the location, this was a very long shot, but worth a try.
 

Maeve caught up to him and put two fingers on his arm. He looked over at her but was too embarrassed to meet her gaze. He was a nasty old recovering addict and she was a young, beautiful and powerful woman. What had he expected her to say when he said he wanted to kiss her? Jump across the armrest and plant one on him?
 

That sort of thing only happened in movies.

“I read the blog, and the person who writes it hangs out here. I have no idea if they’re actually here now.”

“How will we know it’s them?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is it a man or a woman?”

“A woman or a gay man.” Oren slowed his steps as they neared the coffee shop. The shops on this block were all raised a few feet higher than the sidewalk. The outdoor patio was elevated from the sidewalk and fenced in. Though it was late in the day, all the tables were occupied. Most were taken by people with laptops, and there was a power strip stretched across the ground to the center of the patio, with a variety of plugs coming out of it. Oren scanned the patrons, then mounted the steps to the door. There were fewer tables inside. No laptops in here, and as they passed an empty table Oren saw a sign that said there was a twenty-minute time limit on indoor tables. That explained why all the wannabe screenwriters were outside.
 

“I don’t think it’s anyone in here,” he whispered to Maeve.

“No one here has a computer.”

“Exactly.”

“Should we go outside?”

“Yes.”

Oren nodded to the waiting barista but turned and headed outside. Since there were clearly no free tables, there was no good reason for them to be walking around on the patio. Luckily, everyone was so engrossed in their computer screens that they didn’t notice.
 

Maeve’s hands were raised away from her sides, and as they passed each person she lifted a hand closer to them, but didn’t touch them. They made a little circle, trying to be discreet. When they were back where they started, Oren looked at Maeve, who shook her head. There was a frown marring her face.

Together they went back into the shop. The barista raised a brow.
 

Oren went to the counter. “Can I get a large nonfat latte, please?”

“Do you want a shot of flavor or an extra shot of espresso?”

“No, thanks. Maeve, do you want something?”

“I don’t know what this is.”
 

“You mean coffee?”

“Coffee. I’ve heard about coffee.”

Oren looked at the barista, but he hadn’t even blinked. “Okay, well, maybe something sweet to start you off. She’ll have a small mocha, easy on the java, with whipped.”

Soon the espresso machine was hissing away, which covered their conversation. “Could you, you know, See, anything?”

“No. I did not try to touch the Everafter, merely got an idea of what each of them was feeling.”

“What were they feeling?”

“Desire. Desire for fame.”

Oren snorted. “That’s L.A. for you.”

“For some of them the desire was more aggressive than others.”

“That’s interesting, and it’s a little alarming that you can tell all that just by being close to someone. I think we should focus on the ones who felt aggressive. If they want to be famous that much, they may risk publishing a story as alarming as ours.”

“Even if I touch them, I may not be able to tell if they’re who we want, unless receiving the photos was a significant enough to resonate in the Everafter.”

“That’s okay, you did your part. Now it’s my turn. I just need to get a look at their computer screens. Most of the people out there were checking email or wasting time watching videos. We’re looking for someone who is reading blogs or looking through celebrity photos.”

“I have a latte for Owen and a mocha for Mary.”

Oren took their drinks and stuffed a dollar in the tip jar.
 

Maeve followed him, frowning at their drinks. “I’m not Mary, and you’re not Owen.”

“Mary can be your coffee name.” Maeve stared at him. “I’ll explain later.”

Once outside, they loitered by the door while Maeve pointed out the people she’d felt fame aggression from. There were three guys and one girl. Sadly, that didn’t help, because none of the guys had on shirts that said
I’m straight.

“If you drag them into a cave, I can make them tell us.”

“Where exactly would you like me to find a cave? And how am I supposed to drag them?”

“I suppose an alley would do, and you are strong enough.” Maeve squeezed his biceps.

“Thank you for thinking I’m strong enough to overpower someone and drag them into a cave, but there’s a simpler idea.”

“What’s that?”

“You distract them, and I’ll go down on the sidewalk and try and get a look at their screens.”

“Distract them…”

“Just go up to them and say hi.”

“That will be enough?”

Oren looked her up and down, noting the way the dress clung softly to her curves. “Yep, that will be enough. Start with that guy there.”