CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JULIANA THE DEMON HUNTRESS
The urge to throw my favourite knife at you is overwhelming. When I return, I suggest you are gone.
VIGGO RASSMUSSEN
(to Bud Leroy) She desires me still.
BUD LEROY
Vampires. Got to love your confidence.
Vampire Falls. Season two, episode five – “Shadows Behind”
We left Sadie getting re-glued after she resorted to tears to manipulate me into writing the final chapter of Never Leave just for her. Honestly, it nearly worked, but the thought of revisiting that time of my life gives my soul period pains.
A steward ushers us through the door to the photographs.
I crane my neck, looking past the giant silver umbrella, and see Orlando Wilde.
Despite his character now being an eternal reminder of my total failure as a fan, he’s a steady presence on the show and at conventions, full of heart and always has an open smile.
The fandom was devastated when Bud Leroy died in season five (possessed by a Dominion Hellion), and we screamed with joy when they resurrected him in season six.
I pause for a moment, basking in the queuey goodness, and breathe in the stale, conditioned air: its familiarity cleanses my soul of Charlie Chamberlain.
We hurry to the end of the queue that’s zigzagging its way back and forth across the large room like we’re in airport security, but instead of jetting off on holiday I’m jetting off into the bosom of my fellow fans also queueing for photo ops.
Toby bounces past us from the front, smiling ear to ear.
“Hey, Toby,” says Roxy.
“Hey! I just had my first photo,” he says, beaming at Roxy. “Orlando Wilde said he dug my sneakers.”
“Good for you, Toby,” I say.
His smile falters as he looks at me, then heads to the door, passing others filing into the room. Someone else joins the end of the queue, and trying to get Toby to forgive me for barfing in his helmet becomes the least of my problems.
I sigh but force myself to wave at Sadie, who is still in vampire mode, making sure to direct my wave at her, and only her. Roxy puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Just ignore, babe,” she whispers. “Let’s focus on the queueing. You know about queuing; you’re good at queuing.”
Not when Charlie Chamberlain is trying to ruin this core convention experience for me, as well as everything else. I’m literally seeing him and Vivian at every turn.
“Move ALONG please,” bellows a steward wearing cat-eye glasses, right in my ear. I glare at her and trundle forwards.
“Hey, one of the guys on my course told me that her cousin went to Bristol,” says Roxy, looking around the room.
“How interesting, Roxy, and what’s that got to do with anything?” I say, my entire body tensing at the mention of Bristol, aka our future.
“Well, if you let me finish, Snappy McSnapface, it’s relevant because on your first day you have to queue up in this massive common room and they make you buy all these, like, Wi-Fi permits and compulsory licences, but it’s all fake and they’re shaking you down for charity.
” She frowns at me. “Why are you being shitty whenever I mention Bristol?”
“Moi?” I blurt.
“OK, why are you being shitty and French?”
“I’m not. I’m just . . .” I say, swallowing a dry lump, “concentrating on the queue.”
“Fine. I hope we’re both in Wills Hall,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Did you see the photo I sent you? The Old Quad covered in snow?”
I shake my head, irritated that Roxy’s bringing up Bristol when I should be basking in the anticipation of standing side by side with my favourite actors for a good three seconds each.
We shuffle forward in the long queue that snakes back and forth, and the line we’re next to moves in the opposite direction, bringing my rivals closer.
I risk a look at them, just as Charlie Chamberlain reaches over his shoulders and pulls his hoodie off.
I grab Roxy’s arm and point. My throat has clammed up for unknown reasons.
“Did Charlie Chamberlain get vampire abs prosthetics done?” I say.
Roxy forgets about the snow-covered bollocks and sucks in a breath.
“Shit the bed!” she says, her eyebrows flying up. “Look at those v-lines!”
I am somehow unable to stop looking at the v-lines, or the quite substantial section of torso Charlie Chamberlain has unknowingly revealed to a room full of Fallers. He quickly pulls his T-shirt down, his cheeks pink when he looks up to see if anyone’s noticed.
Not me, I did not notice that. And anyway, rock hard abs do not maketh the man.
“That boy’s been working out,” says Roxy, doing that weird finger flick thing. “Gainz.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Gainz with a zed. It’s gym-speak, bro.”
“Is that what it is? He puts that on Insta, but I just thought he couldn’t spell.”
“You still follow his Insta?” asks Roxy, raising her eyebrow.
“No,” I say, not sure why I lied and making a mental note to unfollow him.
The queue moves again until we’re face to face with the King of Gainz himself.
I realise with horror that Orlando Wilde has requested a toilet break, so we’ll have to wait in this unpleasant arrangement for a bit longer.
The steward escorts him out, and I try to work out if he needs a number one or number two from the way he’s walking.
Orlando Wilde, I mean, not the steward. I can’t speculate about his bowel movements right now.
“Hi, Eliza,” says Sadie, her vampire fangs skimming her wide smile.
“Hi, Sadie,” I say, relieved she seems to be over the Never Leave drama. “Orlando’s going to love your make-up.”
“Do you think?” she says, touching her vampire features. “I’m singing ‘Silence if it’s Ending’ at the karaoke party. The one Bud and Lila sing. I’m singing it with Charlie.”
“That’s cool, Sadie,” says Roxy. “We can’t wait to hear Charlie sing.”
Charlie rolls his eyes and Vivian flips her hair over her shoulder (she does that a lot, right? Pick a side of your shoulders and just commit to it) and smiles at me. But not a nice smile. A viper smile, like if they had perfect, Invisalign teeth.
“So . . .” she starts, “the quiz was an eye-opener, don’t we think?”
Roxy stands firm next to me and jumps in before I can respond.
“The question was unfair, Vivian. Not cool. Half the audience thought so.”
“But the other half didn’t, Roxanne.”
Vivian looks at me, her insanely long eyelashes almost hypnotising me into agreeing with her.
“It wasn’t a straightforward question,” I say, immune to those eyelashes.
“Well, I thought it was. But we already knew that because I got it right,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Anyone who’s watched the show properly would know the answer.”
“I have watched the show properly, thank you,” I say through clenched teeth.
Vivian smirks and glances at Charlie Chamberlain who is looking right at me, his arms folded and shaking his head.
“What?” I say, although I do prefer him quiet. “You can’t tell me you thought that question was fair?”
“Would you even listen if I did?” he says.
“Not if you’re not on my side,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.
“Exactly,” he says, shaking his head.
“What does that mean?” I say, incredulous.
He opens his mouth to answer just as Orlando Wilde returns, and the queue moves again. Charlie Chamberlain and co head off, but he looks over his shoulder then turns away and shakes his head.
“Why is he shaking his head?” I say, shaking my own head because if anyone should be shaking heads around here, it’s me. “What does that mean?”
“I’m sure he just—” starts Roxy.
“Can you please move your girlfriend along,” says Cat-eye Glasses, fixing Roxy with a look.
“She’s not my girlfriend, but OK,” Roxy says, nodding.
“No, doesn’t quite work, does it? You,” says the steward, nodding at Roxy. She looks down her nose at me, starting with my messy ponytail right down to my scuffed DMs, “and her.”
Roxy checks whether I heard what Cat-eye Glasses said. Oh, I heard. I heard that loud and clear, my friend.
“What does THAT mean?” I gasp.
OK, I might be more sensitive than usual right now, but she has to know that hurt, right? The steward scurries off towards a gap of more than 50 cm and I turn to Roxy, too deflated to speak.
“I know, babe, she’s just drunk on power,” she says, giving me a consolatory smile. “I’d be lucky to have you.”
“Well. I think so. I’m adorable.” Roxy raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I can be adorable.”
“If you say so,” Roxy says, patting my cheek as the queue starts moving again.
We stop again and I don’t even need to look round. I can sense them in the queue next to us, feeding on my misery.
“Oh, hi again. We’re in a little pattern,” says Vivian, clapping her hands. “This is hilarious.”
“Is it?” I say. I look at Charlie Chamberlain, who’s fiddling with the strap of his watch. “What did you mean by that?”
“I literally said nothing?” he says, blinking at me, the picture of innocence.
“Before, about the quiz you said, would you even listen if I did? What did you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, doing a sort of one-shouldered shrug, like I’m not even worth both of his broad, stupid shoulders.
“No, tell me,” I say.
I put my hands on my hips and look up at him until he finally rolls his eyes.
“I just meant that sometimes you’re so intent on making your mind up about someone that you’ve already decided what they think before you’ve given them a chance.”
I blink at him, then look up at Roxy who’s grimacing. I can’t tell if it’s an outraged grimace or a what-he-said grimace.
“No, I don’t,” I say, my nostrils flaring.
“Yes, you do. You’ve decided what my answer is, so you won’t listen properly when I actually tell you. It’s what you always do when you think you’re being confronted.”
“No, I don’t,” I try again.
I don’t, guys. I really don’t. Charlie Chamberlain can’t give an accurate assessment of my character, not any more.
“Tension much?”
Vivian looks from me to Charlie to her vamp nail polish.
My cheeks feel like they’re melting off, leaving two hollow craters in my face, then I feel a gentle hand around mine.
I look down at Sadie, who’s looking up at me with almost heart-shaped eyes.
It’s quite the contrast with the blood-red contacts.
“I didn’t think it was a fair question, Eliza,” she says, squeezing my fingers.
“Thanks, Sadie,” I say, squeezing hers back.
“Are you going to ask what I think?” says Charlie Chamberlain.
“About what?” I ask.
“About the quiz,” he says, his cheeks turning red.
“I don’t care what you think,” I say.
Charlie Chamberlain scans my face. I don’t think we’ve held eye contact for this long in over a year and my mouth goes dry as he blinks at me.
“Forty-two,” he says, his voice soft.
“What?” I say, frowning at him.
“Forty-two,” he repeats. “Or forty-three now. That’s the most words you’ve said to me in a year.”
I swallow a dry lump, and open my mouth to say something, anything, but my lip is wobbling.
“Move ALONG,” shouts the Cat-eye Glasses.
I’ve never been so grateful for an unnecessarily loud instruction. I look straight ahead and move forward, not giving Charlie a single glance, even though I can feel his stupid long-lashed eyes boring into the side of my face.
“You OK?” Roxy asks, standing behind me. “That was full on, even for you two.”
I nod, and she puts an arm across my chest. Raspberry and apple blossom wafts over my face and I feel safe nestled in front of her, even though I can hear Vivian and Charlie laughing together about something. Probably me.
“You two are cute as hell together,” says a voice.
We both look round, and I’m thrilled to see my favourite pensioner. Going by her bright red lipstick and the matching kiss mark on his cheek, Dorothy’s just had her photo with Orlando Wilde.
“Thanks, Dorothy,” Roxy says, squeezing me. “We’re not together though; she’s way out of my league.”
Dorothy takes her glasses off and points a gnarled finger at us.
“Nobody’s out of your league, girls. Nobody. You understand?”
“We understand, Dorothy,” I say.
Dorothy nods and shuffles towards the door, calling over her shoulder as we watch her go.
“I would never have shagged William Shatner if I thought that way.”
A few people do a double take, processing what they’ve just heard, but I’m starting to tune into Dorothy’s vibe. Roxy loosens her arm and I look round at her.
“What does that mean?” Roxy says, shaking her head and smiling.
“Right?”
I smile back at her, and my soul settles back into the queue as we get closer to Orlando Wilde, back into the convention, back into being among these fans with the person I’m the biggest fan of.
But there’s something stopping me from slipping fully into it, like I can’t click back into place because there’s a jagged Charlie Chamberlain-shaped splinter sticking out of my soul.