4. Liiver Man

The three hour flight to Broome could have been boring, but Dale was a very chatty person and his good temperament was infectious. After briefly asking me what had happened to my arm ("I was hit by a car"), he was more interested in how I was enjoying life in Keyes.

"You seem to know a lot about Keyes," I said, once he asked me if the grocers still overcharged for everything.

"I should do," he laughed, "I was born there."

"Oh, so that would make you…"

"Warrengibie, yeah. Well, part, anyway."

"And now you're a doctor?"

"Yup, emergency registrar with the RFDS. Dream come true. How bout you? How'd you end up in Keyes?"

"I filled out an application and they accepted me as their intern," I shrugged - wrong move, it hurt.

He laughed, "Big mistake. Bet if you were at some city hospital you wouldn't be in this plane right now."

"If I was in some big city hospital I still wouldn't have gotten to touch a real patient yet," I retorted.

He laughed again, "Guess you're right. I think during my internship I only got to touch maybe three patients, and most of them had already been touched by at least six people before I got to them. So, you're pretty lucky then, being hit by a car and getting out of it with just a broken arm."

"I was lucky that I got pulled out of the way so I didn't get hurt too badly." I was trying to be truthful. Besides, I wasn't sure of exactly what the truth was… yet. I was hoping my hypotheses would get slightly more developed than Oliver-Monroe-must-be-Superman.

"Who pulled you out of the way? Must have been pretty brave," he seemed truly interested.

"Another doctor at the hospital."

"Not Dr Young!"

"No, Dr Monroe."

As soon as I said his name, the cheerful banter ceased and Dale froze. What did that mean? Before I could ask, a smile started creeping across his face again.

"Well I'll be. Dr Monroe. Didn't know he had it in him. No-one's going to believe that," he mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"Never mind, just the native being silly."

"What does Dr Monroe have to do with the Warrengibie?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just, there's some stories about Dr Monroe out in the communities," he shrugged, "Don't worry about it, it's just a myth."

"You know you're going to have to tell me now," I joked with him. I figured keeping things light was the best way to pull information from Dale.

"Nah, nah. Don't worry, it's not that good a story…"

"Please?"

He sighed, "Ok, but you're going to think I'm stupid. Just remember, it's just a story, ok?"

"Ok."

Dale resettled himself in his seat, still looking vaguely uncomfortable, but started with his story, anyway.

"The Warrengibie are a proud people, made from sand and time and raised with the spirits of the eagle. Because of our birth, we are wanderers, doomed to roam our land and protect it from evil spirits. But because of our wandering, many parts of our land we don't see for a long time, which, every now and then, lets evil to take root in our lands.

"We were absent from the edge of the world when Liiver Man arrived. A wanderer himself, he had walked across the entirety of existence, looking for the end of everything, and found it at the end of the world. And there he sat, watching as time went by, not aging. He had found peace in his solitude. For Liiver Man had a dark burden to carry. He was a cursed spirit, a soulless man. His soul had been stolen many years ago, long enough for the world to change and for many generations to have been born and rejoined the earth. When his soul had been stolen, this left Liiver Man with an emptiness, an emptiness that could only filled by drinking the souls of others. But Liiver Man was stronger than other men who had met this fate - and there are others who have, who's entire existences are consumed by trying to fill the void left by their soul with the souls of others. Liiver Man felt his emptiness, but could not bear to inflict what he had suffered upon others to fix it, so he became a wanderer, knowing that the only way to keep him from giving in to temptation was to avoid it altogether. He knew he was a cursed man, and welcomed the silence.

"Liiver Man remained there at the edge of the world, unaware that the land was protected by the Warrengibie. Here he hunted the kangaroo and the bunyip, trying to sate his thirst as much as he could by using the souls of animals, although he hated himself for doing so. It was while he was drinking from a bunyip that the Warrengibie returned to the edge of the world, where they saw Liiver Man.

"We had been gone from our lands for too long and evil had taken root here. We knew that we had to cleanse our land, to destroy Liiver Man to make it safe again, but how do you destroy a soulless man?

"Liiver Man saw us, and dropped his prey. He was as white as clouds, and glistened in the moonlight. His golden eyes were a warning. He walked towards us, speaking in a tongue we did not understand, but my ancestors stood their ground. Suddenly, he started to speak in our tongue, his face contorting as he tried to force the sound out.

"He told the Warrengibie that he meant us no harm, that he came here for some peace, and that he would not hurt us. He only wished that he would grant him some space here so he could think. We knew that if we engaged him, even though we shared our blood with the eagle, we would be defeated. So we granted Liiver Man his land at the edge of the world, with the promise in return that he would not cross into our land.

"And there he has stayed, for generations beyond counting. He leaves for a time, but he always returns to the end of the world. And he has kept his promise with the Warrengibie, never setting foot on our land in over two hundred years."

I listened, mesmorised. During his story telling, Dale had become another man, speaking with the power of ages. I was a little in awe. Still, I had no idea what his story meant. What did this have to do with Oliver? We sat in silence as I thought the story through in my head as Dale watched me apprehensively. Slowly, the pieces started to fit together. White skinned. Golden eyed. Undefeatable…which could be taken to mean indestructible… wait…

"You think Dr Monroe is a soul drinker?"

"No…"

"Oh, good…"

"…he's Liiver Man."

My world spun. Oliver. Liiver Man. Liiver Man. O-liiver.

Oh. My. God.

As soon as I made the connection, I knew it was true. Oliver was Liiver Man. A soulless man. An immortal. No wonder he didn't do the out reach clinics in the Warrengibie communities. He wasn't allowed.

"…it's just a story, Kaia. You know, bunch of superstitious natives. I don't think he's a vampire…"

My eyes snapped to him, "What do you mean a vampire?"

"Well, you know, he drinks souls. Not Oliver I mean Liiver Man. I mean, what else is there to drink besides blood in a body."

Oliver always worked the night shift. Oliver never was out while it was daylight. Oliver wore his trench coat on his way to work. It was never about slip-slop-slap…

I had to stop thinking about it. Something about my facial expression was horrifying Dale.

I forced a smile to my face, "That was a good story, have you got any more?"

I was glad that Dale felt the need to regale me with more stories about the Dreaming, otherwise it would have been impossible to try and keep this new information out of my head, that Oliver was a vampire.

Ok, I probably had gone mad, but what else made sense?

As soon as I got to Broome I was wheeled in to surgery, so I didn't have a chance to think about that for a long time. When I woke up, my arm was in a thick cast, and I felt groggy, but I was capable of thinking.

If Oliver was Liiver Man (I refused to think vampire any more, that wasn't in the Warrengibie story, just Dale's supposition), then that would make him hundreds of years old. No-one could be part of this world for that long without leaving some trace behind. I remembered when I had Googled Oliver, and all those people throughout time with the same name came up… could some of them be him?

Thankfully I was in a private hospital, so I was able to get internet access (which I would probably have to pay for later). I went to Google and typed in "Oliver Monroe". Three million, six hundred and fifty thousand hits. Hmm. This may be more difficult than I hoped for. I switched to the images page. I wasn't sure if there could be images of Oliver - because wouldn't vampires be invisible to cameras? - but I figured it was my best hope of getting anything definitive. So I scanned through pages and pages, finding nothing. I sighed. It was too much to hope for, for this to be easy. But then, on the third page of images, I found one. He was standing next to a short man with an afro and glasses, in a crowd of hippies, looking much too clean cut to belong with them, while they were waving anti-Vietnam war placards. I opened the page this photo belonged to, and there it was. It was an online journal about some guy names Robert Hall. The caption below the photo read: "Me and Oliver Monroe. Anti-war Protest. Sydney University. 1973"

1973. And he looked exactly the same. His hair still had that windswept look, he still had those golden eyes.

But 1973 was over thirty years ago. This was promising.

I went back to the images page, now I knew that I had something to look for, and copy and pasted results into a Word document I could print later. When I had exhausted the image search, I went back to the web pages, now I had some idea of where-he-was-at-what-time, I could filter my search to make things easier.

I found his photo from when he was in the First World War, found his army transcripts from when he was a medic for the Aussies at Gallipoli. I found out he received a purple heart in World War II, something he had "died" while doing. I found the ship log from the first fleet, which said he was a convict at the time for "the unnatural slaying of a sheep". The further back I got, the harder it was to know if the Oliver Monroes I was finding were him or not. I tried to match what details I knew, like his birthday (had weaselled that one from Ruth weeks ago), hoping that he had decided to keep the same date. Not that it was exactly original - January 1st. But, if all I found was accurate, it seemed like Oliver had existed since the 1600s. I wasn't willing to bet on any earlier than the 1670s, though. Anything before then was a bit too sketchy to trust.

I sat in my hospital bed, staring at the endless list of references I found regarding Oliver. Why hadn't anyone noticed before? It was so obvious, when you knew to look, to find this stuff. Oliver Monroe was not human. He was so much more than that.

I knew when I got back to Keyes I was going to talk to him. How could I not? I already felt like I was going to combust from the knowledge. Maybe this was why Oliver never allowed me to get too close. Did he realise I was smart enough to unravel his secret?

Or was there some other reason, an answer I hadn't come up with yet?

Regardless, Oliver and I were going to talk when I get back, though I doubted he was going to like it…

On Saturday, the week after my accident, I got a flight back to Keyes. My body was buzzing with anticipation. I was going to confront Oliver about what I had learnt. I was going to get the answers I needed. The pages of research I had collected weighed heavily in my bag. I was fairly sure if I confronted him with evidence, he wouldn't try to lie to me. Then again…he could easily kill me to cover it up…no, he wouldn't do that. The man saved my life, why would he kill me? And besides, Liiver Man wasn't meant to hurt humans.

Ruth came and picked me up from the airstrip, and hugged me gingerly, trying to avoid the large plaster that covered most of my left side. In the car trip back to my place, I asked her where Oliver lived.

"Why do you want to know?"

Because I'm going to confront him about being a four hundred year old monster…

"Because I want to say thankyou, for him saving my life."

Good enough answer as any.

"Oh, well I can give him a ring and see if he wants to come over…"

"No, I'd rather surprise him. I'm fairly sure he doesn't like praise."

A grin crossed her face, "That sounds like Oliver. Ok, how about we swing by his place now, then I'll drop you home."

"Well, I was sort of hoping it could be private…besides, I'm fairly sure Oliver would drive me home."

Ruth was a saint, she didn't even ask me why I would want our reunion to be private. Then again, the way she looked at me with one eyebrow raised, maybe she wasn't so saintly…

For God's sake, he's old enough to be my great, great, great, great…

I grinned at my inside joke.

We drove quite a ways out of Keyes, down a small dirt road up to a small stone cottage. I didn't see anyone or hear anything, but then again, Oliver always managed to be a ghost when he wanted. Besides, the sun was up…

Stop being stupid, Kaia.

I hopped out of the car and waved Ruth off. She would come over to visit around about dinner. I sighed as I saw the dust trail her car left disappear.

I walked hesitantly up to the door of the cottage, almost afraid to knock. What was I doing? Had I gone completely mad? But I didn't get the chance to knock, Oliver opening the door while my hand was raised.

"Kaia Snow. What brings you here?"

"Oh, um…" not so brave now, was I? "I just got back, and I thought…we better talk."

He looked at me and raised his eyebrow, before standing aside so I could enter.

His house was a mix of antiques and more modern pieces, but oddly enough, they all blended together and looked like they belonged. There was no TV, but there was a wall full of books. There was an antique clock on the mantel piece.

I'm not sure what I expected his home to look like, but it wasn't like this.

He lead me over to the lounge chair - one of his more modern pieces, white suede - and looked at me, waiting.

He sighed impatiently.

"What have you come here to say, Kaia."

I didn't know how to start. We sat there in silence, as the irritation began to show more and more on his face. I couldn't get my thoughts together, but finally, I managed to whisper, "I know what you are, Oliver."

He froze. With him this close to me, I knew for certain he wasn't breathing, but then again, when did he ever breathe around me?

"I don't know what you mean…"

"I know you're Liiver Man. I know you're a… a vampire."

Of all the ways I thought of this conversation going in the past week, I never thought it would have been as blunt as this. I always imagined somehow twisting the conversation so he was the one telling me his secrets… but how naive had that expectation been? He'd been keeping his secrets for four hundred years!

I wasn't sure he was ever going to talk again. He held as still as a statue.

"How did you find out?"

Good, he wasn't going to lie to me.

"I'm a genius, remember. I'm good at figuring things out." I didn't want to dump Dale in it.

He sighed.

"I guess you are at that."

More silence. This was driving me nuts. Why couldn't he just pour his heart - or whatever vampires had - out to me like I always dreamt of him doing?

"Are you frightened of me?"

"No," and in the moment I said that, I knew it was true. I didn't care what he was. So why had I pushed for the truth like I had? I felt awful.

"You should be scared of me."

"I don't think I can be scared of you."

"Why?"

"Because…I trust you…because…" my breath hitched in my throat as I realised what I was about to say…because I loved him.

This knowledge struck me harder than the wall a week ago. I felt my very knowledge of my being shatter, and rearrange itself, to fit Oliver into the heart of that construct. Suddenly so many things made sense…why Oliver avoided me, why I was always waking up in my bed when I fell asleep on my couch, why he always called Ruth on Saturdays to make sure I was alright, why he had saved my life…

Oliver…loved…me too.

"You know why I can't be scared of you, Oliver," I looked into his now coal-black eyes.

I watched the passion well up, smouldering in the darkness of his eyes, and suddenly, in a movement that was too fast for me to see, Oliver was kissing me.

My head spun. Time seemed to hold still. I had never been kissed like this before. Maybe you had to live for four hundred years to be able to kiss like this. I didn't care.

Too soon, Oliver pulled away, his jaw held tight. I wondered what was wrong, but I was unable to catch my breath to be able to ask. It was almost embarrassing how ragged my breathing was!

I reached my hand towards his cool face, but he pulled back.

"Give me a moment," he said through his gritted teeth, as he closed his eyes and held perfectly still.

I sat there, as he willed himself into composure, my breathing slowing down as he relaxed. When he opened his eyes, I reached out and put my hand on his - it was ice cold, and as hard as stone.

"That's pleasantly warm, you know," He said, mumbling to himself. He looked into my eyes, and I could see myself reflected in them.

"This is wrong, you know that Kaia," he said to me, not looking away. There was no lie in his eyes, "I shouldn't care for you like this. It's too dangerous."

"I don't care," God, I sounded like a petulant child!

"I know you know what I am, Kaia, but you don't know who I am. You have no idea how much danger you're putting yourself in, just by being here. Being the object of my affections is not a good thing."

"Why?"

"Because I'll kill you."

My body didn't even freeze, my heart didn't even skip a beat, even though Oliver had just expressed a desire to end my life. This should of worried me, but it didn't.

He sighed, "I knew as soon as I saw you that you were different. You weren't like the other humans I surround myself with. But I didn't know how much you would…tempt me…in ways that aren't good for either of us.

"When the wind changed at the night of the bonfire, when I caught your scent…" his voice trailed off, his mind a million miles away (well, 7 weeks ago, at least), "it took everything in my power not to kill you then."

Tally stands at two admissions at wanting to kill me. Why am I not afraid?

"You must have thought me a monster. Which I am, but, I've been alive for a very long time. I managed to escape before I needed to kill you" …three… "but I knew, if it happened again, if it was just us alone, then I might not be able to control myself. So I avoided you at work. You shouldn't be around me, you were just too tempting.

"But something drew me towards you. Like I said, you're different from other people. I don't… hear… you like I do them. This intrigued me, so I started watching. From a distance, but I was always watching."

"What do you mean, you don't hear me like you do other people."

"I can hear thoughts, but I can't hear yours." he said dismissively, "I don't know why that is."

Oh. That explains why he always seemed to know what his patients were thinking.

"We don't all hear thoughts, in fact, I only know of two others that do and they both do it in very different ways to me…but that doesn't matter…"

He sighed again, "Anyway, the more I found out about you, the more I wanted to be near you, and the more I was near you, the more I felt…and I'm so sorry. I should have been more responsible. And now, here you are, having feelings for me too…" he looked down where my hand rested on his, "and now I don't know how to stop this."

Once again, silence filled the room. I didn't know what to say. I loved him, and I knew he loved me, but was this love enough to stop him from killing me?

"Has anything else like this happened to you before?" Please say no, my heart would break otherwise.

He shook his head, "Never."

"Do you want to… kill… me now?" I asked.

"No! No, I don't want to kill you! I've never wanted to kill you, it's just, sometimes I feel like I have to, or that I could, accidentally," he grabbed my hands, looking me fervently in the eyes.

I could see the pain in there, the pain this knowledge of how easily I could die caused him.

"It's ok, Oliver…"

"Ok? It's ok that I want to kill you? How is that ok?" He was angry, whether at me or himself, I didn't know.

"No, Oliver, it's ok how you feel about me, how you're confused. The whole…wanting to kill me thing… that's nothing. I know you can do the right thing about that," How easily could I discuss my own death!

He sighed, "I don't know what to do…"

"Easy, don't do anything. We don't need to do anything today. I just felt like I should let you know that I know who you are. It's going to make this," I waved my hand between us, "Whatever this is, a whole lot easier."

I stood up and walked back towards the door.

"Thankyou for saving my life, Oliver," and I meant that in more ways than one, "I'll see you at work."

"Wait, how are you going to get home?"

"Oh," I hadn't thought of that. It was still daytime outside, Oliver couldn't go out, "I'll walk."

"Don't be stupid you'll burn to a crisp. I'll drive you home." He got up and walked towards the door.

"I don't think I should wait another few hours before leaving, Oliver."

"Why would we need to wait?"

"Because it's daytime…"

For the first time this afternoon, a smile broke across his face, and he started laughing.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not, it's just…I can go out into sunlight, Kaia. The whole burning to a crisp thing is just a myth," he kept chuckling.

"Then why do you only work nightshift?"

"Because I don't sleep and it seems nicer to everyone else who needs to…"

"Wait, you don't sleep?"

He shook his head, "Never."

"So that's the only reason you don't come out during day, cause you're being nice."

"Well, that and I'm a little bit obvious when I come out during the day…at least when it's sunny…"

"And what's that meant to mean?"

"Nothing."

I pouted - I hated not knowing something. He looked at my pouting bottom lip and sighed.

"Look, it's something I'll have to show you rather than tell you. If you don't realise overnight what a horrible monster I am, then maybe I'll show you on your day off or something."

"I'm not going to change my mind…"he put his finger up to my lips.

"Later. Let me drive you home."

I hate to beg, but please review so I know you are out there.

K.