All the Feels (20 page)

Suddenly Xander grabbed Liv’s hand. His fingers were warm and sure, and Liv had a moment to think how right it felt before Xander spoke.

“Screw it,” he growled, heading back the way they’d come. “This is no time for being sheep.”

“But I thought—”

“Just follow my lead.”

Xander swung back through the crowd at the entrance. A knot of volunteers were directing people into the queue, which led up to the front of the room, where ten tables had been set up with badges. Others herded attendees who’d lost their receipts for badges into another, equally long line. Once the con-goers reached the desks and had picked up their badges, they exited through the side door, again policed by members of Dragon Con’s volunteer community.

“Where are we supposed to—”

“Shh!” Xander hissed. “Just look like you know what you’re doing. Have your blue card and ID ready to go.”

Liv’s hand grew sweaty as she and Xander wove their way to the exit hallway. At the door, a weary-faced man in a Dragon Con T-shirt watched the multitudes pass through the exit, pointing them up the hallway toward the street.

Xander leaned down to Liv, his mouth brushing her ear, and she shivered. “Wait for it…”

“For what?” Liv asked, distracted by his closeness.

She felt Xander tense beside her. His fingers tightened.

A young man dressed as a Pikachu came up to volunteer, lifting his badge and asking the man a question. The volunteer turned away from Xander and Liv, pointing to the other end of the hallway. The door was open, the guard distracted.

“This!” Xander jumped forward. “Get inside and get into that crowd. Don’t stop!”

Xander was already moving, so Liv had no choice but to keep up. The two of them pushed through, emerging in the chaotic front of the crowd. The line disintegrated at this point; knots of people milled around desks. Xander sprinted to the first one, leaving Liv to follow. Liv had never broken the law in her life, and she kept expecting the volunteer from the exit to shout at her or an alarm to sound.

Xander gave the table attendant a half bow, his hand resting over his frothy lace tie.

“Alexander Hall,” Xander panted, pulling out his driver’s license and a blue Dragon Con receipt card. “Esquire.”

“Your first name’s Alexander?” Liv said. “I never knew—” Xander gave her a sour look, and she swallowed the rest of her words, fighting down a foolish grin.

“You’re in the wrong line,” the woman at the desk said in an exasperated voice. She pushed her glasses up with an ink-stained finger. “H through M is the fourth line. Over there.” She reached out her hand toward Liv, snapping her fingers. “Blue card and license, ma’am.”

“Here,” Liv said, pushing them into her waiting hand. “L-Liv. Liv Walden. We transferred the card from Ard—”

“Walden,” the woman said with a tired sigh. “You’re over in the last line, W through Z.” She pointed. “Way down there.”

Xander gave the woman a warm smile. “You’ve been most helpful, madame. If there’s anything I can do to assist you in the future, please let me—”

The volunteer ignored his thanks, then leaned around him and bellowed: “NEXT!”

Her shout released them. Xander nudged Liv toward the far side of the tables. “I’ll meet up with you out in the hallway.”

“Hallway. Right.”

Before Liv knew it, Xander was off at the H-to-M table, and she was standing at hers, picking up a laminated four-day pass with her name—Liv Walden—across the top. It was done: Her first foray into a life of crime was a success! She looked out the exit door to see Xander lounging against the wall in the hallway. One hand was tucked in the center seam of his waistcoat, the other spinning the pass on the end of a lanyard, a pose of Napoleonic contentment. Liv sprinted to meet him, crossing paths with a seven-foot Wookiee. He roared at her, and Xander stifled a bout of laughter behind a handkerchief.

In the hallway, the crowds of con-goers were twice as bad. Liv stumbled through, finally making it to Xander’s side. “I can’t believe we just did that!” she panted, her grin so wide it hurt her cheeks.

“Did what?” he said, tucking the silk handkerchief into his pocket. “I stood in line the whole time. Didn’t you?”

Laughter bubbled from her throat. “So what now?”

Xander draped the lanyard around his neck and pointed back down the hallway where they’d sneaked inside ten minutes before. “Now we go back to the Marriott to meet our roommates.”

A twinge of anxiety filled her chest, but Liv forced her smile to stay.

“And after that?”

“After that we go find the Spartan coven and find out just how Internet famous you really are.”

*   *   *

A trio of steampunk characters were waiting on the red couches when Xander and Liv arrived back at the Marriott. Two of them were women—one short and young, one tall and middle-aged—fully dressed in corsets, brocade, and elegantly laced footwear. Their companion was a young man wearing a bowler hat, goggles, and a stuffy-looking plaid suit with what appeared to be a jet pack attached to it. A faint trail of smoke from an exhaust tube rose to the balcony above. In avid discussion, the trio unfolded themselves from the couch, standing as Xander and Liv approached. Too many people filled the Marriott, and the room was stuffy with bodies, though Liv swore the temperature dropped a few degrees when they caught sight of her.

Xander gave a bow far more formal than the one he’d given the volunteer at the Sheraton ballroom.

“Greetings, everyone,” Xander said. “May I introduce the illustrious Liv Walden, known far and wide as LivOutLoud of the
Starveil
fandom.” He swung his arm back to include her. “She’s the unexpected guest I texted you about.”

“Hi,” Liv said, giving the group a nervous wave.

The older woman nodded stiffly. The younger stared at Liv in concern. “But what happened to Arden?”

“Arden and I are no longer an item,” Xander said. “Haven’t been for some time.”

“Oh!’

The man cleared his throat and touched the brim of his hat. “Charmed, m’lady. I’m Mario Torres.”

“Mario,” Liv repeated.

Xander gestured to his friends. “Liv, this is Emma.” The tall, willowy woman inclined her head at the introduction. “And this is
also
Emma.” The short young woman gave a shy smile. “Mario is the younger Emma’s elder brother, even though I personally think Mario looks a little more like the other Emma. She’s my cousin. The other Emma is staying with friends on the twentieth floor.”

Liv’s mind swirled to keep up with the introductions. “The other Emma?”

“I’m actually Xander’s second cousin,” she explained. “But not to worry. We’re all friends.”

The shorter of the two Emmas stepped forward and offered her hand.

“So is it true?” she asked hesitantly.

“Is what true?” Liv glanced at Xander, but he was busy rearranging the tucks of his shirt. Her gaze returned to the younger of the two women.

“That you’re the secret force behind Spartan Survived.”

Liv grinned. “You follow
Starveil
, too?”

“It’s my first fandom,” Emma sighed. “I love it so much!”

And with that, the ice was broken.

Liv had made it to Dragon Con. She had people to stay with and money in her pocket. Now all she needed to do was meet Spartan and she could die happy.

*   *   *

The Thursday-night party was the biggest event Liv had ever attended. The crowd moved like a choppy ocean, the mass of con-goers rolling over and around the multi-tiered atrium level of the Marriott. People in cosplay were the norm, not the exception, and Liv’s “Only One Man Calls Me Darlin’” T-shirt seemed a weak substitute. Liv stared as she passed a full-size TARDIS (with the ninth doctor inside) chatting with a yellow-suited Walter White.

“I can’t believe how many people there are,” Liv shouted, voice pitched above the pulse of music that filled the room.

“You wait until tomorrow,” Xander said. “Thursday is barely the start of the party. Only half are here so far.”

“Half?!”

A woman dressed as Tekla—Spartan’s kick-ass love interest—strolled past, and Liv’s mouth fell open. Her Rebel uniform and boots, the locator on her belt, and headset communicator in her ear were so perfect they looked like they’d been lifted off a movie set. Maybe, Liv thought, they had.

“Where will everyone go if there’re twice as many?”

“They go here.” Xander chuckled. “It just means less open space.” He nodded to the woman in Tekla cosplay. “Told you you should have made a costume. You could have rocked that outfit.”

“I never could have pulled it off.”

“You’d look amazing,” he said. “You’ll have to start believing me someday.”

“Someday, but not today,” Liv said with a nervous laugh.

“Ouch! I only speak the truth, dearest.”

Liv sighed. “Fine, fine. I believe you for most things, just not this.”

“You
could
pull it off.”

“Doubtful, but you’re good for my ego. Something that tight just isn’t for me.”

“Pity,” Xander drawled, giving her a slow once-over. “You’d put that woman to shame.”

Cheeks burning, Liv turned to watch the woman head into the crowd, giving Xander her profile. “If only I had my own seamstress,” Liv sighed. She peeked back at him. “Someone who I could blackmail into making cosplay for me.”

Xander stepped nearer as a congo line made of Greek soldiers danced past. “I can’t sew, but any time you need an assistant, I’m there.”

Liv grinned. “I know. I just like to bug you.”

From somewhere above them, she heard a voice shout: “Liv! LIV! Liv out loud!” She looked up, half-expecting it was someone who liked the Émile Zola quote as much as she did. Instead, she caught sight of a group of women of all different ages, many dressed in
Starveil
apparel and fandom T-shirts. They waved to her from the second-floor balcony.

“Liv! I knew that had to be you!” The woman’s shining face was its own answer. “Your avatar,” she bellowed. “I’m Joanne—JoesWoes! C’mon up and…” Joe’s face went white. “Holy SHIT! That’s Malloy, Liv!” she shrieked. “The actor who plays Major Malloy is standing RIGHT BEHIND YOU!”

Liv turned around to find Xander fading into the crowd.

“Xander?”

He looked back over his shoulder. “These are your friends, dearest,” he said with a laugh. “Go chill with them. I’m going to scope out the rest of the action.”

“But I don’t…”

He was already too far away to hear, and she didn’t feel like yelling that she didn’t want to be alone, that crowds like this terrified her. Her chance was gone, Xander already a blur of lacy cuffs and brightly colored coat in the surging crowd.

“Text me!” Liv shouted.

Xander didn’t answer.

*   *   *

The coven was nothing like Liv had expected. Joanne was in her late thirties or early forties, with a helmet of wavy auburn hair and the build of a football player gone to fat. She rushed forward the moment Liv neared the crowd of
Starveil
fans.

“Liv!” she screamed. “I told Brian it was you, but he wouldn’t believe me!”

Liv found herself trapped in a crushing bear hug.

“Joanne?” Liv laughed as she attempted to extricate herself from the woman’s beefy arms. “It’s so weird to actually meet you.”

JoesWoes let go and grinned. Liv’s first impression was shock: the woman was old enough to be her mother. That revelation, followed by the embarrassing thought that Joanne wrote fan-fic in her spare time, left Liv struggling for words. It made sense, of course. Joe had been in the Spartan fandom since
Starveil
’s earliest days, which meant she had to be old enough to write when Liv had only been a child. It just hurt Liv’s brain to reconcile the JoesWoes she always thought of as a teen with the matronly woman dressed in a long maxi skirt and faded
Starveil Four
sweatshirt.

“I’m so glad you came along!” Joe said. “I thought you might back out last second, but you made it!” She grabbed Liv’s hand and dragged her into the center of a diverse group of people. Their one connecting feature was the
Starveil
clothing and cosplay. “Listen up, everyone,” she announced in a schoolmarm’s voice. “This here is Liv. You know her as LivOutLoud. I told you she’d come!”

Liv opened her mouth to respond, but Joe didn’t give her any leeway to talk.

“Now, this is Kelly,” she said, pointing to a dainty young woman—possibly in her late teens or early twenties—with a wide smile and elfin features. “And this is Brian. StarVeilBrian1981, that is.” She gestured to a thin, prematurely balding man, standing awkwardly at the side. He stared down at his feet, ignoring Liv altogether. “And this is Leah, and Denise, and Beth. Over there is Maria, and then Ivy, Jenna, Molly, Alicia, Isabel, Dale, Sherry…” The names ran together.

Unlike Xander’s standoffish roommates, the
Starveil
fandom was bound together by an intense love of the films and a furious hatred of Spartan’s demise. This anger was centered directly on Mike R. Miles, whom the fans held personally responsible for the character’s death. Minutes after Liv’s arrival, the group was chatting avidly as everyone shared his or her own stories of losing Spartan, and then finding him again through the Spartan Survived hashtag. Liv realized what she’d sensed all along: She’d been right not to take the credit. For one, she hated being in the spotlight, but more important, seeing it unfold before her felt like getting an insider’s view into what her small idea had wrought. The fans had hope and anticipation, passion and focus. Spartan, the survivor of the Elysium, wasn’t just a character, he had become real to them. A private smile grew on Liv’s lips.
She had created that.
Their joy was because of her action. It was her gift to them.

Liv’s phone buzzed, and she looked down.