Chasing Midnight - A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 3)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  As my mood shifts, the magic storm inside me grows. I force tears from my eyes, and while they slide down my cheeks, rain drops from the sky. Stirred by my frantic breaths, the clouds overhead churn in the mounting winds. At each unfamiliar sound, I jolt in panic and lightning flashes across the sky. People start to run. I merge into the dozens of bodies crossing in all directions, not daring to look over my shoulder. That invention no longer buzzes overhead, so I keep my head down and focus on the scattered trees across the way. It’s a park of some kind. While the humans stick to the street, I pound over the damp grass, welcoming Mother’s kiss upon my cheeks as the wind and rain revive me.

  I dive behind a bundle of bushes and crawl between their branches. Casting quick glances to either side to make sure I’m not being watched, I pull my thighs into my chest and dig my fingers into the wet soil. The connection soothes me. My magic fills me. I let it sink beneath the dirt, diving deeper and deeper, until it rises, breaking through the earth in the form of branches peppered with budding green leaves. They wrap around me, twisting taller, spreading wider, growing denser, until I’m completely hidden from view. Then I rest my head on my knees and breathe deeply, surrounded by the Mother, calmed by her presence.

  When I close my eyes, I see the prince’s cunning gaze. This time, his pupils are red and blinking, looming larger and larger as they close in. I pop my eyes open and stare into the evergreen curtain hiding me from view.

  I think I’ll stay hidden in the Mother’s embrace for a little while longer. After the sun sinks and the moon rises, once the Father’s shadows have blanketed the world in darkness, I’ll make my move. What was it Aerewyn always used to tell me?

  Oh, right.

  Mischief was made for the night.

  I crawl out of my hiding spot a few hours later, emerging like a moonflower blossoming beneath the luminous glow of the stars. Except the sky in this strange land seems perpetually coated by a blanket of clouds. The only light that penetrates the darkness is the kind that pains my eyes—too bright to be natural. It spills from glass windows and spreads a fiery orange glow into the night. Even if the sky were clear, I doubt I’d see it twinkle. I don’t know how the humans can live with this energy, knowing it blocks out the beauty of the Father’s realm, the serenity of his everlasting embrace. Every time a faerie leaves the waking world, their spirit travels to his kingdom for safekeeping, living on as an eternal flame until the Mother pulls that soul-fueled fire back within her sun.

  Aerewyn and I used to spend hours studying the stars, watching them shimmer against the dark, comparing it to the glitter in our skin, wondering if through the magic, we were somehow all connected. I feel her now as I glide through the shadows. With each step, her voice whispers in my ear, “Faster. Faster! Go, go, go!”

  I’m back in the forest, jumping from mossy patch to mossy patch, careful not to crunch a bed of leaves beneath my feet that might wake the elders. We used to sneak to the scrying water at night to spy on humans in their villages. We used to run to the woods to dance between the moonbeams. We used to hide high in the treetops, casting spells for only the spirits to witness.

  Can Aerewyn see me now?

  Behind the fog and the mist, is her flame burning bright in the sky, watching over me?

  I wonder what she’d say.

  No—on second thought, I don’t. The very idea that she knows my plan makes my insides twist. I stumble over my feet as the grass gives way to pavement that’s as hard and unforgiving as her response would probably be. She always had a soft spot for humans.

  I force the questions down as I step onto the street and search the shadows for the orphanage that should be on the other side if my time spent hovering over the scrying water showed me anything. Where before there was hardly room to breathe on these crowded roads, the area is now quiet. The people are mostly gone. Without so many distractions, it doesn’t take me long to spot the familiar brick building across the way. I hurry down the street and around a bend, trying to spot the window I’d scoped out. Ella’s room is in the northernmost corner of the building, on the third floor, two from the end.

  There.

  The room is dark. None of those awful electric lights are on, which should make it easier for me to get in. Still though, Omorose told me about things called cameras and how men might be watching from somewhere out of sight if I try to break in. So, I use Aerewyn’s favorite mischief-making spell, and call Father’s shadows around me. In the bright light of day, the spell would never hide my movements. But surrounded by so much darkness, even on the go, I should blend in as little more than a passing shadow. I cross the street and kneel beside a potted plant, sinking my fingers into the soil as I call upon my earthen magic. An ivy vine coils over the edge, dropping to the stone beneath my feet before crossing the distance to the brick wall a few feet away. I urge the evergreen leaves to spread and grow. At my request, they crawl along the wall, up and up and up, until the stalks skim the base of Ella’s window.

  I pull my magic back.

  Then I climb.

  In a matter of minutes, I reach the window and luck out—it’s not locked. In fact, it’s been opened a few inches to let the cool breeze swoop in. I gently ease it open a foot higher, waiting for someone to sound some sort of an alarm. When nothing comes, I slip inside, like a phantom in the night. From my spying, I know each room houses multiple beds, and Ella’s room has four. Though three of them are filled with sleeping children, one mattress is noticeably empty. The only one I care about.

  Where is she?

  Her magic is close—I can sense the current in the air, a frantic throb of invisible energy that calls out to me.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  The pace is wild and untamed, like the pulse of a beast stalking the confines of its cage. It pounds like a prisoner’s fists against the walls of their cell, demanding release. In it, I hear Aerewyn.

  Help me. Free me. Save me.

  I follow the feeling, out the door and down a dark hall until I see the gentle flicker of firelight seeping through a partially open door. The thumping quickens along with the beating of my heart. My fingers itch for a blade I can drive straight into this human’s chest, faerie oath be damned. I throw the door wide and—

  I pause.

  Two wet eyes find me, wide with innocence and fear. The moment I look into them, I’m thrown into Omorose’s memories. The little piece of her soul I’d tried to bury swarms up like a plague, infiltrating every inch of my mind until my body warms with a love that’s not mine.

  “Ella.”

  The word falls from my lips with a depth I don’t feel. The little girl blinks, narrowing her eyes to search the darkness. Her cheeks glisten in the light of the dying fire by her side, but she wipes the water away as she stands and straightens her shoulders, fierce despite her small size.

  “Who’s there?”

  I close my eyes and swallow, fighting against the maelstrom Omorose’s love for her sister has ignited within me. I calm the winds. I clear the skies. I blank my mind until I know all my thoughts are my own. Then I close the door behind me and let the shadows fall away.

  “My name is Nymia, and I was sent by your sister to save you.”

  Her eyes widen and she steps forward. “My sister’s alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the magic—” Ella cuts off and scrunches her face, suddenly suspicious. I don’t blame her. In this city, even mentioning magic might be enough to get her killed. She’s smart—smarter than I would’ve expected a thirteen-year-old human to be. She’s more than a head shorter than me, and so thin her clothes hang off her frame, little more than muscle and bones. A dusting of soot darkens her cheeks, caught by the moisture that covered them, but even that doesn’t hide the shadows hanging beneath her eyes. Still though, she crosses her arms over her chest and hardens her expression, tougher than her size would indicate. “If my sister’s alive, why did she send you? Why wouldn’t she come herself?”

  “Your father i
s ill.” Her mouth falls open and the mask cracks as she wilts. “She needed to stay with him, so she sent me.”

  “He’s alive?” Ella shakes her head, trying to process. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think it’s called a pneumonia.”

  She chews her bottom lip as a worry line creases her forehead. Suddenly, she looks like the child I know she is. “Is he going to be okay?”

  The pain in her voice makes my chest twinge. I stifle the sensation. The worst thing I could possibly do is open my heart to her. “I don’t know.”

  “But they’re both alive?” Her voice softens, losing all its hard edges.

  “Yes.” I shrug the backpack off my shoulder and carefully pull out the bundle of brown fluff Omorose handed to me before I left. “She wanted me to give you this. She said you’d know what it was and that it would convince you I’m telling the truth.”

  Ella takes the furball, eying it curiously as her brows press together. Then she lifts it to her nose, hesitantly sniffing. All at once, her expression changes. Her eyes widen. Her lips curl into a smile. She gasps, breathing in as she crushes the thing to her chest and buries her face in its fuzz, staying there for a prolonged second. When she pulls back, her cheeks are wet with new tears. “It smells like them,” she whispers, voice laced with awe. “I don’t know how, after so long, but it smells like home.”

  A clog fills my throat.

  I cough, trying to force it away. There’s something about the affection in her hazel eyes that hits me deep—a longing I understand all too well.

  I drop my gaze, searching for a distraction. “What is it?”

  “A teddy bear,” she answers with a soft giggle, joy spilling through her lips. “I think— I think my sister and I had a name for him, but I’m not sure what it was. Mister something. Mister, mister…” She leans back and looks down, staring at the bear. “Mister Winky!” Then she laughs, sound a mix of disbelief and delight. “We called him Mister Winky, because he lost his eye and now it always looks like he’s winking. I—I remember! I can’t believe I remember. I think I gave him to her the morning she left. I can almost see my sister standing outside the carriage while I forced him into her arms. I think our mum was there too. I can almost, almost…” She trails off and lifts the bear to her face, taking another deep breath. Then with a sniffle, she swallows and finds my gaze. “They’re really alive?”

  “Yes, they are,” I answer, keeping my voice detached. I need to focus on the task at hand. “And I’m going to take you to them. So, let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can reunite you with your family.”

  The sooner I reunite her with her family, the sooner my blood oath is fulfilled.

  The sooner my blood oath is fulfilled, the sooner I can act.

  The sooner I act, the sooner I get Aerewyn back.

  “Wait…” She pauses, staring at me with renewed interest, as though everything I’m telling her has finally finished processing. “How’d you even get in here? You just appeared out of nowhere. Do you have magic?”

  “I do.” And mine’s not stolen—though I keep that detail to myself.

  Ella widens her eyes. “I’ve never met anyone else with magic. Do you have a curse, too?”

  “No.”

  She frowns at the harshness in my tone and shrinks back. “Oh.”

  The vulnerability in that single word stops me, and I remember what Omorose said—Ella doesn’t know what the curse means or where her magic comes from. She’s innocent in this. She was only two years old when her life crumbled—the magic world is little more than a distant memory to her. But is ignorance an excuse? Especially when every breath she takes signifies another breath my sister won’t?

  “How do you know Ro Ro?”

  I arch a brow. “Ro Ro?”

  “Oh.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. The hint of a smile graces her lips. “I mean Omorose, my sister.”

  “She saved my life.” At least, she likes to think she did.

  This time, Ella grins. “Really? How?”

  “I’m a faerie—”

  “A faerie?” She gasps as a glimmer of starlight sparkles in her eyes, the sort of excitement only a child can emit.

  I look away. I need to get this over with—the more time I spend with her, the harder this will be. Every other human I’ve destroyed was an adult, aware of their crimes, malignant with their magic, almost resigned in the end, as though they’d known all along what had been coming for them. But she’s different, naïve and youthful and—

  No.

  Stop.

  I look back up and meet her gaze. She’s a thief like all the rest, whether she knows it or not. I can’t allow myself to think any differently. “Your sister used her magic to heal me, and when your family curse killed her, the magic transferred to you. Then her friends used a human invention, something called a portable defibrillator, to bring her back to life.”

  “Why did her magic heal you?” she asks, but then keeps going before giving me time to answer. “How long was she dead? Who are her friends? Am I going to meet them? What kind of magic do you have? When—”

  “Please stop.”

  She shuts her lips and swallows. I can tell it’s taking every ounce of her focus to not blurt out another question, so I cut in while I still have the chance.

  “Your sister will answer all your questions. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  I sigh. “Go to your sister.”

  “Is she outside?” Ella whips her face enthusiastically toward the window.

  Oh, Mother help me. The incessant questions are aging faster than ripe fruit.

  “No,” I say and she deflates. Honestly, her mood changes like the seasons, swinging this way and that, so quickly I’m having trouble keeping up. “She’s across the ocean in a place called the United States.”

  “She’s in America? How are we getting there?”

  “We’re—” I cut myself short, because I actually have no idea what to say. I never planned for a return trip, not until Omorose pulled that trick with the faerie oath five minutes before sending me on my merry way. I was going to come here, find Ella, free Aerewyn, and leave. What am I supposed to do now?

  I don’t think I’m strong enough to bring Ella through a faerie portal. If I tried and the gateway collapsed halfway through, I don’t know what would happen to her, or to me by proxy through the oath. It’s too risky. Clicking my tongue against my lips, I run through my meetings with Omorose, trying to remember her proposal. Then it hits me.

  “We’re taking a boat.”

  “A boat,” she repeats, skeptical.

  “Yes, a boat,” I confirm, strengthening my tone as everything Omorose said comes back to me. “We need to catch a ship back to the US, then a train across the continent, then horseback, or maybe motorcycles, or she mentioned something about a car…”

  “Do we have tickets?”

  “I’ll buy them. I have papers. I have money.”

  “Do you know the timetable?”

  “It can’t be that difficult to find out.”

  “Do—”

  “Oh, just come on,” I interrupt, offering my hand in invitation. “We’ll figure it out as we go. Don’t you want to see your sister?”

  “Yes,” she answers quickly, as though offended at the question. Her gaze drops to my fingers, then lifts to my eyes, then drops, then lifts, until finally, she steps back, lengthening the space between us. “But we can’t leave until tomorrow night.”

  Now it’s my turn to ask questions. I don’t want to wait another day, not when I’ve been waiting hundreds of years already. I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

  “Well, I doubt the port is even open,” Ella drawls, but I know that’s not the reason. Her tone is too defensive. “And if we don’t have tickets it could be a while before there’s a ship with room.”

  “Why?” I demand again.

  “I have a life here, you know. Maybe there are some people I want to say goodbye to before
I leave. Maybe they’ll miss me.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just—” Ella breaks off to release a heavily dramatized sigh and drags her toe across the ground. She clutches the so-called Mister Winky closer to her chest. “There’s this—this thing I need to do tomorrow. Then, we can go.”

  “What thing?”

  “This, um…” She trails off and dips her head, hiding behind the brown fluff in her arms. A smattering of pink flushes over her tanned cheeks. “This ball thing.”

  “Ball?”

  “Prince Frederick came by earlier this week to personally invite us,” she implores, then stands taller, puffing out her chest. I sense an act of defiance coming on. I’ve seen the signs too many times before not to notice. “He said having us there would inspire people, would show them a peaceful picture of the future we’re all fighting for, where people from both worlds can live together in harmony. I have a proper invitation to a royal party. He handed it to me himself. I have to go!”

  I narrow my eyes. “Prince Frederick?”

  Ella glances to the floor and pulls her lips into her mouth as her skins flushes a deeper red. “He’s King William’s youngest son. He’s nineteen, which I know is six years older than me, but that’s not that much. I mean, my dad was five years older than my mom and they were happy together. At least I think they were. So, anyway… I need to go to the ball. He expects me to be there and I can’t disappoint him. He’d be gutted if I didn’t show.”

  I suddenly understand what’s happening.

  She’s in love with this prince. The girlish embarrassment is written all over her face. She’s swooning like a freshly plucked blossom. I’ve seen this look before, on a different face, in a different time, but it’s all the same. Naïve affection practically oozes from her pores.

  This is the last thing I need, especially if this Prince Frederick is the person I think he is—the same prince who somehow sensed my magic, who must’ve somehow sensed hers if he came here to invite her to a ball.