Chapter 16
WHO IS AUGUST LIRIO—MASTERPOST
posted on BloodFeudEvidence.com/?masterposts/?lirio/?UPDATED/?truth/
Okay guys, SO MANY OF YOU have asked for this post, but the truth is we really don’t know that much about Lirio??? I don’t really feel comfortable calling this a “masterpost” because I have a higher standard for what that entails, but whatever, here’s what we DO know all in one place:
Lirio got their start writing fan fiction. The first record we have of Felix, Callum, Octavia, and the rest of the BF characters is on AO3, where Lirio wrote fics for years. (Though not under the name August Lirio; back then they wrote as username DarkAura1213.) The fics gained popularity on Tumblr, especially in the Twilight/Buffy/Vampire Diaries fandoms, and the stories started getting longer. Eventually, a full novel-length fic called Blood Feud gained more than 83,000 hits.
Lirio self-published Blood Feud before getting a traditional publishing deal. After Blood Feud went viral on AO3, the same work was self-published as an ebook—that was the first time we saw the name August Lirio. In an interview, literary agent John Betherton said he saw that ebook had sold more than 20,000 copies, read it himself, and reached out to represent August Lirio. Blood Feud came out as a traditionally published novel one year later.
There is no longer any way to contact August Lirio. Lirio used to have a contact form on their website back when Blood Feud was self-published, but that came down before the traditional book came out.
Lirio is now the biggest-selling author on the planet with a secret identity. With almost ten million books in the Blood Feud series sold, Lirio is certainly in rare company. Very few authors can sell those kinds of numbers, and all the ones who do have, you know, names and faces.
A fourth book is coming (we hope?????). Lirio’s original book sale was a four-book deal. Three Blood Feud books are out already, so theoretically they’re under contract for one more??? But it’s been five years since book three came out, and there’s no news at all about whether they’ve even started book four, let alone a publication date, so we all just have to wait in pain!!!!
…annnnnd that’s what we know about August Lirio. Did you find this post helpful? Lmk in the comments!
Comment from user KStan88971: Post was ok but can you please post more info about Konstantin he is my DARK KING DADDY
“Dark King Daddy?” Octavia put down her wine and peered skeptically at Joni.
“I didn’t write it!” Joni protested.
“But you agree?”
“Octavia, please, I’m literally gay.” Joni cringed. “Cate Blanchett is the only Dark King Daddy I acknowledge.”
“She is fun, ” Octavia agreed.
“Stop. You know her?”
“Not like know -know, but we’ve hung out.” Octavia shrugged and sipped her wine. “When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you run into everyone eventually.”
“God, your life is cool.”
“It used to be.” Octavia sighed.
Joni refilled Octavia’s glass of Pineau d’Aunis, another quirky little bottle from Joni’s favorite wine shop—Octavia was pleasantly surprised that the girl had interesting, sophisticated taste. They were spending the evening in Octavia’s hotel room, trying to figure out how to track Callum’s movements on the Isle so they could attempt to reopen the portal they saw on the Lower East Side.
“It still seems simplest to me that you should just go to the Isle and tell Callum where to meet me,” Octavia said.
“Yeah, except for the part where Tess has been there for days and we have no idea if she’s dead or alive,” Joni countered. “I mean, I’m sure she’s fine, right? She has to be fine.”
“There’s an easy way to find out for sure,” Octavia needled.
“No—you tried that plan, now we’re doing mine. We’re finding August Lirio,” Joni insisted. “They have to know what’s happening on the Isle—how else could they write about it?”
“I don’t see why the person who spends their career lying about my brother and me should want to help, but we can try.” Octavia sniffed. “I suppose we’ll start with their literary agent? They’ll have Lirio’s address on file.”
Octavia googled “John Betherton,” but the results were page after page of articles and fan posts about Blood Feud.
“Let me do the internet, please.” Joni held out her hand, and Octavia grudgingly gave her the laptop. “Just gotta log in to the Columbia library search engine, and—okay, here we go. John Betherton is the founder of and only agent at the Betherton Agency. Now we just do a search of recent hits, and…hey, this actually looks promising! He’s on the host committee of some foundation that’s having a gala fundraiser this weekend at the Met. He’ll probably be there.”
“Well, that’s two pieces of good news.” Octavia grinned.
“Two?” Joni looked puzzled.
“One: We can make some progress toward helping my brother. And two: I get to wear a proper dress.”
Joni didn’t know why she was so nervous about some stupid gala. Yes, okay, she was still mildly traumatized about the time she’d attended her rich cousin’s black-tie wedding and knocked over an entire tray of champagne, which made the loudest clanging sound anyone had ever heard and soaked her most obnoxious aunt, who’d never let her live it down and still said, “Have you got a firm grip on that?” to this day anytime she saw Joni holding a drink. Joni was fairly certain if she did anything even a fraction that embarrassing in front of Octavia, she would die on the spot.
Of course, just existing in front of Octavia was embarrassing. She was so languid and cool, so totally chic and put-together—well, except for those seconds after they saw the flash of blue light when she lost her shit slightly, which was actually kind of reassuring from Joni’s perspective. There was still something human inside that tough (ridiculously attractive) glamazon exterior.
Joni knew she had a lot to focus on in her academic life: She needed to finish her dissertation, prepare for—and subsequently crush—her interview for the job she desperately wanted as an assistant professor at Columbia, not to mention apply for a whole host of backup jobs in case the Columbia thing didn’t work out. But whenever she tried to focus on any of that, she always found her thoughts drifting back to Octavia. Which was understandable—how often did you meet an unbelievably beautiful vampire who needed your help with a quest where your ex–best friend’s life potentially hung in the balance?
Even so, none of that felt like the real reason Joni was so nervous when she arrived at Octavia’s hotel room at six p.m. Saturday night and knocked on her door.
“Good, at least you’re on time.” Octavia exhaled as she opened the door to let Joni in. She was already dressed in a black column gown with glittering crystal-studded ties at the back, her hair pinned up in a chignon, her lips painted vivid red.
“Wow,” Joni breathed.
“Oh this?” Octavia smiled. “I grabbed an elegant little Tanya Taylor from Bergdorf’s, didn’t want to draw too much attention since we’re crashing the party. Go on and change—your dress is in the bathroom.”
Joni had been relieved when Octavia insisted on picking out her dress for the gala—Joni didn’t have anything nearly fancy enough to wear, and she certainly couldn’t afford anything new. But when she saw a Tom Ford gown hanging from the bathroom door, her breath hitched in her throat. It had a sporty racerback neckline, was slinky and floor length and covered in deep purple sequins that glimmered like oozing liquid. It was tight on Joni, but in that way that was kind of perfect. The dress hugged her angular frame and made her feel like a badass bitch—but when she opened the door of the bathroom, Octavia just stared at her.
“What? Is it bad?” Joni asked, suddenly doubting how hot she’d felt in the bathroom mirror.
“No,” Octavia said quickly. “No, it’s perfect. As I suspected. Come on, let’s do your makeup.”
Joni sat in a desk chair, and Octavia instructed her to close her eyes. Her touch was feather-light as she swept brushes over Joni’s skin, occasionally smoothing things out with her fingers.
“Okay,” Octavia said softly. “Look at me?”
Joni opened her eyes, and Octavia’s face was so close—if either of them leaned forward, they’d be kissing. Octavia inspected Joni’s face slowly, gently tapping glimmering highlighter along Joni’s cheekbones, pushing back a lock of her dark hair.
“Open your mouth,” Octavia instructed.
“Sure,” Joni whispered, trying to keep herself from breathing heavily. Octavia applied rosy lipstick, then held up a tissue.
“Blot,” she said. Joni pressed her lips into the tissue, which was draped over Octavia’s palm, wishing that thin layer of paper wasn’t there. Octavia held the tissue for longer than she needed to, and Joni kept pressing her lips against it, wondering if something was really about to happen—
“All done!” Octavia stood up abruptly. “Looks good.”
“Great.” Joni cleared her throat. “I’ll call a car?”
Forty minutes later, they arrived at the Met in a sleek black SUV. There was a line of black cars outside the Met’s main entrance with its iconic stairs, but Octavia had their car pull into the parking structure off 80th Street.
“This way, we go directly into the museum and hopefully avoid security,” Octavia explained.
“And what if we don’t?” Joni asked. As a kid, she’d never so much as stolen a candy bar—she wondered what her parents would say about her gate-crashing a charity gala with a vampire. To be honest, they’d probably be less upset about the vampire than the fact that Joni was blowing off her dissertation to hang out with her.
“If we have to deal with security, we’ll deal with them.” Octavia shrugged. “One way or another.”
Joni hoped none of the ways was murder, but she didn’t entirely want to ask.
It turned out Octavia’s plan worked like a charm. They made their way through the lower level of the museum, past the costume institute, and up a fire stairwell at the north end of the museum that dumped them in the middle of eighteenth-century American furniture. From there, it was a quick walk to the rear entrance of the room that housed the Temple of Dendur, where the gala was taking place. There was a guard stationed at the door, but one giggle from Octavia and an “Oh my word, we got lost coming back from the loo!” in her crisp British accent was all it took to get by him.
“How many times have you done that?” Joni said under her breath.
“Honestly? Almost never.” Octavia grinned. “I’m so used to glamouring people, it’s kind of fun to manipulate them the old-fashioned way.”
“Very analog,” Joni deadpanned. “Super retro.”
“I’m a hundred and thirty years old. Everything I do is retro,” Octavia murmured in Joni’s ear. Joni felt the warm tickle of Octavia’s breath, inhaled the smoky scent of her perfume. They hadn’t had a drop to drink, and it was a good thing too, because Joni was already feeling intoxicated.
The gala was a beautiful event: The temple was surrounded by trees made of glass, lit from within by thousands of twinkle lights. Round tables were set with candelabras and sprays of orchids, and there was a dance floor by the fountain filled with bulrushes, though no one was on it yet. The moneyed East Side crowd out in their Barney’s best chatted to the music of a jazz ensemble while drinking ice-cold cocktails.
“I miss being rich.” Octavia looked wistful. “All right, shall we find Betherton?”
Joni had a picture of Betherton from an interview in his college magazine, and she showed it to Octavia on her phone. “Do you see him anywhere?”
“How can you tell the difference?” Octavia muttered as she scanned the crowd. “All these people look copy-pasted from the same Yale yearbook.”
“Ooh! There!” Joni said too loudly, and Octavia shot her a look. “Sorry, sorry. He’s waiting in line at the bar.”
“Trapped and alone,” Octavia intoned. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.”
Octavia strode over like she wanted a drink, Joni trailing close behind. She went right up to the bar but then stopped as if only just realizing that people were waiting.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said to John Betherton. “Is there a line?”
“There is,” he said curtly—but when he turned and saw Octavia, his manner softened considerably. “Would you like to wait with me? It’d be a delight to pass the time together.”
It took all of Joni’s self-restraint not to roll her eyes, but she kept her cool and stepped into line with John and Octavia. He was in his fifties, with the trim physique of someone who probably had insufferable opinions about macro-grains and the oily smile of a guy who regularly cheated on his wife. It lessened Joni’s opinion of August Lirio somewhat to know they’d chosen a man like this to represent them. But Octavia was looking at him with a mix of shock and delight.
“Oh my god.” She gasped. “John? John Betherton, is that you?!”
“It is.” He smiled with confusion. “I can’t believe I’m saying this given a face like yours, but I can’t place how I know you?”
“It was one of these tedious dinners, who knows how long ago.” Octavia waved her hand dismissively. “I introduced myself because I’m such an admirer, but you had to duck out before we could chat.”
“I’m certain no dinner spent with you could be described as tedious.” He smiled. “Are you in the literary world, Ms…. ?”
“Parker.” Octavia smiled. “Julia Parker. And actually, it’s funny you should ask, because I’ve just accepted a position with The Paris Review. I wonder…you wouldn’t be interested in a profile, would you?”
“You’re not serious?”
“Dead serious.” She grinned. “In fact—could we discuss it right now? Maybe somewhere a little more private? My friend can grab our drinks.”
John looked over at Joni as if realizing for the first time that a third person was standing in their group. “If you don’t mind? Scotch, rocks.”
But he didn’t wait to see whether Joni actually did mind before he and Octavia walked off.
Joni wasn’t sure what to do next. She supposed it was a good thing that Octavia didn’t need her at all for their little mission (other than as a placeholder in a drink line), but she wished she’d had a chance to be more useful. She was still several places from the front of the line; she guessed she’d just wait around until Octavia came back. Might as well get herself a cocktail.
“What do you think they’re up to?”
Joni looked up to see a reedy woman with a dark pixie cut and a tailored black pantsuit; she didn’t look familiar to Joni in the slightest.
“I’m sorry?” Joni tilted her head.
“Your boss just walked out with my boss.”
Joni tried to suppress the sudden leaps her heart was doing. This woman worked for Betherton!
“I’m Fern,” she said, extending a hand to shake.
“Hey, I’m Joni. You work for John?”
“Yeah, I’m an assistant at his agency,” Fern said with an exasperated exhale. “I was so excited to work for him because I love Blood Feud so much, but he’s kind of a nightmare.”
Joni’s pulse sped up even more—there was no way she could make herself be cool, so she decided to lean in to the fact that she wasn’t.
“No fucking way, the Blood Feud books are my favorite,” Joni effused. She could have sworn she saw Fern sneer in response—but a millisecond later, Fern was smiling again. “And my boss is a nightmare too. I’m her personal assistant, just dealing with all her bullshit so I can help pay for grad school.”
“Pretty nice dress for a personal assistant,” Fern observed.
“One of my boss’s cast-offs, obvi,” Joni said conspiratorially. “Anyway! So Betherton’s a jerk, huh? I’m really sorry. Do you at least get to read Lirio’s new stuff before everyone else? Do you know if another Blood Feud book is happening?!”
“I can’t say for sure”—Fern dropped her voice—“but John went to Lirio’s townhouse downtown a couple of months ago, and it definitely wasn’t a social call. I kind of get the sense that Lirio hates him?”
“I knew it,” Joni muttered, and Fern laughed. “Sorry—I just couldn’t believe August Lirio would hire a guy like that. Or whatever Lirio’s real name is. Oh my god, do you know who Lirio really is?! And wait—they have a place in New York?! Aaaahhhh, your job is so cool!!”
Joni hoped she was selling her part as a random fangirl and not as someone asking really pointed and specific questions. The intel that Lirio had a townhouse in Manhattan was already a huge win—maybe that combined with whatever Octavia had learned would be enough to get them a real lead.
“I wish I knew their name. Or anything about them—John keeps all that under lock and key.”
“Understandably.” Joni sighed. They’d reached the front of the line, so Joni ordered two glasses of champagne and a scotch.
“For John?” Fern pointed at the scotch, and Joni nodded. “Fuck him, I’ll drink it. And you should down one of those champagnes and keep the other. Live a little!”
Joni laughed and clinked glasses with Fern, and they both took deep drinks as they wandered away from the bar.
“Hey, would it be crazy if we exchanged numbers or emails or something?” Joni asked, hoping she wasn’t pushing this too far too fast. “It’d be nice to get drinks and gush about Blood Feud and bitch about work sometime.”
Fern smiled. “Give me your phone.”
Joni did, and Fern sent herself a text—but as she handed the phone back to Joni, she got distracted.
“Oh shit, there’s your boss coming back,” she said. “And John’s not with her. Probably getting coked up in the bathroom.”
“Really?” Joni frowned. “He’s too old for that to be cute.”
“Tell me about it.” Fern rolled her eyes. “I’d better go babysit his wife before she realizes what he’s up to. Nice to meet you!”
She was off before Octavia returned—Joni rushed over to her.
“So??” Joni asked. “How did it go? Did Betherton know anything?”
“Mm, he was fairly useless.” Octavia shrugged. “A solid meal, though. Tasted like pheasant.”
“You fed on him?” Joni whispered.
“Does that shock you?” Octavia whispered back. She pulled Joni close to her, her hands gripping Joni’s waist. “I am a vampire, you know.”
Joni hadn’t seen Octavia like this before—there was something wild in her eyes, something dangerous. She looked like she wanted to devour Joni, maybe in more ways than one.
And Joni really fucking wanted her to.
“I know exactly what you are.” Joni looked Octavia dead in the eye.
“Who was that girl you were talking to, with the unfortunate suit?” Octavia didn’t break eye contact. “Were you ignoring our mission to flirt?”
“Mission?” Joni snorted. “Okay, James Bond. And what do you care if I was flirting?”
“Finish your champagne,” Octavia instructed.
“Why?”
Octavia pulled her even closer. “So you can dance with me.”
If this was Octavia at her weakest, Joni couldn’t imagine what she’d be like with her powers fully restored. Joni had never in her life felt more powerless to resist someone.
Joni drank the rest of the champagne—her second glass—it was fizzy and cold, and the bubbles went straight to her head. And then Octavia’s fingers were laced through hers, and she was leading her to the dance floor. The jazz band was playing a slow, sultry cover of “I Put a Spell on You,” and the dance floor was completely empty.
“I thought you didn’t want to draw too much attention,” Joni teased.
“Don’t you know me at all?” Octavia smirked. “I always want attention.”
Octavia circled her fingers around Joni’s wrists, then moved them behind her neck. She put her own hands at the small of Joni’s back, and slowly, rippling like water, they started to dance. Joni could feel the eyes on them, see the people craning to get a look. And she lovedit.
“Don’t you want to know who the girl was?” Joni said softly.
“You’re thinking about some other girl while you dance with me?” Octavia raised an eyebrow.
Joni moved even closer to Octavia, their bodies brushing against each other for an aching half a second.
“She’s Betherton’s assistant,” Joni intoned. “And she told me where Lirio lives.”
Octavia stared into Joni’s eyes for a fleeting moment, her gaze full of fire, and then they were kissing, so fast Joni couldn’t have stopped it, but she’d never wanted anything more. Octavia’s lips were soft, but her bite was sharp, their hands were grasping at each other, all those people were staring—
“What now?” Joni broke away and gasped for air.
Octavia ran her tongue along the spot where Joni’s jaw met her neck, then grinned like she was the best, most wicked thing in the world.
“Come on, Joni. Haven’t you always wanted to know what it’s like to fuck a vampire?”