The Stroke of Midnight: A Supernatural New Year's Anthology

by Amy Miles, Brandy Dorsch, Beth Dolgner, Bella Roccaforte, Connie Suttle, Danielle Bannister, F. F. McCulligan, Faith McKay, J. M. Gregoire, K. L. Brown, Kyra Dunst, Lola Rayne, Michael Siemsen, Susan Illene

  "Relax. We'll take them to the warehouse and sell them like anything else." Dad turned back to Kyle. "We're makers, son. Do you get it now? The Smiths have always been makers. We create what we see in our minds—"

  "Within limits …" Mom interrupted.

  "Of course, and your cousins and aunts and uncles all have different specialties, but you'll learn all about that later. You are going through a phase right now. Your talent is beginning to show itself, but it is not safe to create in your sleep."

  Mom continued, "We're going to put you on some pills, sweetie. They should keep that from happening."

  With all his parents were trying to convey, Kyle's mind focused on a single point. "I could make a table like that?" He walked around the stacked tables to his parents' side, his eyes wide with the possibilities.

  Dad smiled and put an arm over Kyle's shoulders. "In time, yes. You must be taught. It takes time. You have to see the whole object, the parts, how they fit together. When learning to make a chair, we must first take apart an existing chair, see where the nails go, how many, the screws and staples, the weave of the upholst—"

  A black leather recliner appeared in the space beside the tables. Kyle shouted "I did it!" and bounced up and down.

  "Wha—Kyle!" Dad shouted. "Stop that! You can't just … how—?"

  Kyle's excitement evaporated. Dad turned him around to face them, fixed eyes on Kyle's.

  "Listen to me, son. You mustn't do that again. Hear me?"

  Kyle nodded slow and apologized.

  Dad went on to say that no one in the family had heard of anyone creating in their sleep, and certainly not filling a room with water—that there was something undeniably different about Kyle's talent. What Dad didn't reveal at the time, and what would come out shortly thereafter, was that Kyle's ability seemed to have no limits. Complex electronics—even devices with more than a few components—had previously seemed outside the plausible range of maker ability. That was, until Kyle had made the Nintendo.

  Even more staggering, though Kyle wouldn't grasp the implications until two decades later, was the fact that he had made the puppy.

  FOUR

  Kyle and Jess stepped back onto the first floor, yielding to a swarm of giggling kids.

  "Hi Uncle Kyle! Hi Aunt Jessica!" The kids disappeared into Kyle's childhood room, now a guest room and home to numerous game consoles, toys, and a vast library of kid movies: a blatant petition for grandchildren.

  "I'll find Dad," Jess said. "You handle Mom. Then we meet out front?"

  Kyle nodded, looked at her face, and gave her a smile. "Not exactly how you planned to spend New Year's, huh?"

  "Dude," she said. "This is such bullshit."

  "Don't worry. They are the ones that have to demolish and move all that. It's good for spoiled old bastards to get their hands dirty now and then, right?"

  Jess rolled her eyes. "I'll believe it when I see it."

  Though he hoped the responsible uncles and cousins would step up and take apart the created third story, he really wished someone had the ability to de-create. No one did, though. Whatever was made could not be unmade. It was one of the core reasons (besides filling his room with water) Kyle's parents had worried so much about his dream-creating. What if he had made a giant boulder over his bed, being instantly crushed when it fell? Or a giant playground in the front yard? Things they couldn't hide.

  Likewise, there was his sister. Out of fear for her safety, she had been sent away to Uncle Frank and Aunt Natasha's house in Texas, living with them for a couple years. They brought her back about a year after the water incident, when Mom and Dad finally felt that Kyle's ability and dreams were under control. She'd been gone so long, Kyle had almost forgotten he had a sister, but upon her return, they were usually inseparable, like identical twins, and continued to be as adults.

  Kyle found his mother in the kitchen pulling two zebra cakes out of the oven as she laughed with a crowd of her siblings and cousins. "Hi Mom, can I speak with you a moment?"

  Their audience harrumphed and commented under their breath about his lack of proper greeting. His mother set down the cakes, hugged him, and turned her head for him to kiss her cheek. "You witches don't need to worry about my perfect son." She winked, grabbed her wine glass, and let him lead her out of the room.

  Kyle shared the story of the new "addition" and Mom sighed, swallowing the last of her wine. Her eyelids already looked heavy and she was slow to respond. "Well …" she began. "How do we … what's your father … is it, it's noticeable?"

  He took her outside where they found Jess and Dad at the sidewalk, both looking up at the third story.

  "It doesn't even make sense!" Dad shouted as Jess tried to shush him. "They left the gutters and everything. Doesn't even look connected to the house, just sitting on top. Idiots!"

  Dad didn't appear to grasp the full implications.

  Kyle walked up with Mom. "Even if they had done it perfect, Dad, people are going to see it tomorrow. Look at the Millers' and Golds' houses on either side."

  Dad got it. He put his hands on his head and tried to clutch what few threads of hair remained. He turned to Kyle and Jess. "What do we do? I … I'm not so clear in the head right now. You two … you just tell me how we fix this."

  "I'm cutting off the drinks," Mom said as she walked back toward the house. "And putting on coffee."

  "We find out who did it," Jess said. "And ask for volunteers to get it taken apart."

  Dad nodded. "And where do we put all the … stuff? The parts?"

  "I think we should throw it all in the pool," Kyle said. "Put the cover over it and deal with it tomorrow."

  Dad rubbed his forehead and squinted at Kyle. "The pool? What if it … the bottom? What if it makes a leak?"

  "I'll fix it. Don't worry about it. Let's just go get our culprits."

  Reentering the raucous house, Serg Smith strode through the gathered packs of eating and drinking guests, straight to the stereo system. Prince's "1999" halted and the shouted conversations hushed to confused murmurs.

  "Turn it back up!" shouted Uncle Jack. Cousins and kids giggled.

  Serg climbed up on the brick rise in front of the fireplace. "The party is on hold," he yelled. "Whoever thought it a good idea to vandalize my home, risk the entire family's privacy … and safety, abandoning centuries of tradition, step forward now."

  Eyes shifted among the guests—many puzzled, a few guilty.

  After a moment of silence, Serg's brother, Frank, finally spoke up, words slurred. "It's not a big deal. You all think it's oh-so-big us keeping a family secret. Personally, I think we need to be done with that old country bullshit, show the world what we can do. Not like we're going to get dragged through the streets by torch-bearing mobs … end the shame." He flipped a hand in the air, bleary eyes scanning for agreement but finding it only frowns of shock and disapproval. "Well … I'll take care of the new floor in the morning."

  Kyle broke in, "That's too late. You may not care about our secrecy, but we do, and it's not up to you to make decisions for the entire family. Not to mention, this isn't your house. The neighbors will see."

  "It's also not safe," Jess added.

  "We are not going to argue about this," Serg said. "This is our home. Who helped you? Anyone involved needs to get up to my attic right now."

  "Who says someone helped me?" Frank said defiantly. "I did it myself."

  "Impossible," Jess said. Uncle Frank shot her an irritated glance. "There's no way you did that by yourself."

  Frank tipped his glass, swallowing the rest of his drink. He jabbed a thumb toward Jess. "Serg, you need to put a gag on this one."

  A collective gasp, and then whispers. Frank's wife, Natasha, put a hand on her husband's shoulder.

  "Frank, don't." She said.

  "I'm going to take care of it!" Frank barked. "But I don't have to listen to a thing she says."

  Perplexed, Kyle looked at Jess who appeared stunned and shaken. He turned his focus to
his mother and father. Kyle didn't understand why Frank would single out Jess for his indignation. Frank and Aunt Natasha had essentially been Jess's parents for the year she lived with them.

  Natasha clutched Frank's arm, digging in nails, as she whispered angrily in her husband's ear.

  He yanked his arm away from her. "Who cares? I don't care! She's not a part of this family!"

  That was it. Kyle stepped forward and marched right up to Frank. "I don't know what your problem is, but leave my sister out of your drunken tirade and go fix the goddamn problem you created!"

  "Kyle—" Kyle's mother warned. He turned and she shook her head, frowning.

  "Enough of this nonsense," Serg shouted at his older brother. "Get the hell out of here, Frank! We'll clean up your goddamn mess for you! You're not staying in this house. Ever!"

  Adults began herding the young children out of the room.

  Frank's son, Theo, stepped forward looking a bit more sober than the rest of the crowd in the living room. "Take it easy, Uncle," he said to Serg. "He's not himself right now. It's not just the booze … eh, some problems with the business … Look, we'll get the house taken care of, okay?"

  Frank, stumbling forward, blurted, "Don't you talk about business! My business is my business and can't … nothing with this even has a … it's not a business! Not their business!"

  Others tried to calm the belligerent Frank and guide him out to the back yard.

  Kyle turned and saw Jess still standing in shock as their mother rubbed Jess's arms and whispered supportive words to her. Jess had always been a quiet issue in the family. Kyle knew her inability to create had been seen as some sort of failure on his parents' part, and though most were politely accommodating to her as she grew up, Kyle had seen this sort of disdain pop up a few times before. He didn't get it. Just being "regular" shouldn't preclude her from speaking like any other member of the family.

  At that moment, Kyle felt the same as his father. The Texas Smiths needed to leave.

  "Sorry, Theo," Kyle said. "But it's best if you guys go get a hotel. Besides his irresponsible use of—"

  "Oh look who's talking about irresponsible!" Frank shouted, thrashing loose of his escorts, and staggering up to Kyle. He stabbed a finger into Kyle's chest. "You're the one that made her!"

  "Frank!" Elle screamed.

  Frank rattled on. "'Bout as irresponsible as it gets letting her stay around."

  Theo grabbed his father by the shoulders and thrust him outside in anger. Others shut the sliding glass door behind them as those who remained stood in awkward silence.

  Kyle stammered, "Me? Made her what … I didn't make her do anyth—" But then he got it, and like a thousand doors opening, answers and questions flowed into his consciousness. He shot his eyes to Jess who appeared dumbfounded.

  She hadn't known either.

  Kyle turned around to his parents. Tears streamed down Mom's cheeks as she wrapped her arms tight around Jess.

  "What did he mean?" Jess cried. "What does that mean?"

  "Everybody out of here!" Serg roared.

  All but Kyle, Jess, and their parents quietly left the living room as the four sat down on the couch and ottoman.

  Jess appeared to understand, but she didn't want to understand, sobbing on Mom's shoulder. Dad clenched his fists and rubbed his knuckles. Kyle's head buzzed with chaos. Mom swallowed.

  "You remember the puppy, Kyle?" Mom finally said. Kyle nodded, his head still muddled and dizzy. "Makers can't make life. At least no one ever had before you. The dog … it's when we knew you were different. You were so young … the risks were so great. We didn't know what to do."

  "And then there was the flood," Dad said.

  "He made me?" Jess sobbed. "Am I not a real person?"

  "No, honey, shh," Dad said as he held her cheeks in his hands. "Of course you're real. You just … you were just born … differently."

  "When?" Kyle demanded.

  "A few weeks before she 'came back' from Frank and Natasha's. We found her in the kitchen pantry, nibbling on raisins. She was never sent away. She … she didn't exist before that. We hid her from you."

  "But the pictures in the albums," Jess said. "Me as a baby, at two and three and five. I remember being in those places, opening those presents."

  "Those were all of Anita, sweetie," Mom said. "You only remember those things from us showing you the pictures all the time, talking about the past. They aren't real memories. We're so sorry. There was just nothing else we could do. We weren't going to send you off to some orphanage. You are our daughter now. You always have been."

  Kyle and Jess locked their reddened eyes together as the four sat in silence for a long moment. Kyle finally stood, took his sister's hand, and helped her up.

  "Where are you going?" Dad asked.

  Kyle walked her to the sliding glass door. "We're going to talk in back."

  The back yard had cleared out and the two were alone. Kyle hugged his sister as she dug her face into his chest.

  "I feel like I'm going to disappear," she howled, muffled by his sport coat.

  "You're not. You're real. Everything we make is real. Look at me." She wiped her eyes and nose on his chest and peered up, her face despondent. "I never knew. But now that I do, I think … I think it's the best thing I ever did. I can't imagine having grown up without you. You're everything to me. You're everything to Mom and Dad, your friends, your boyfriend, even many of these lunatics." Kyle nodded toward the house. "You know that. Nothing's changed."

  She sniffed and rested her cheek against his chest, gazing at the steaming, illuminated swimming pool. They stood there in silence for a time, the sounds of crackling fireworks and distant laughter, other parties.

  Jess sucked in a deep breath. "God. What's Jimmy going to think? What if there's something wrong with me? Like a defect."

  "No, come on! You're perfect! Everything I make is perfect, right?"

  She snorted and scoffed. "Arrogant prick." She stepped back and wiped her eyes on her sleeves, looked at him and sighed. "If I end up with face cancer or mad cow or some other weird shit, you know it'll be on you, right?"

  Kyle chuckled and hugged her one more time. "And you shouldn't be telling Jimmy anything about this. I don't see anything good coming of that. So … what do you want to do right now? You want to go lie down or drink or something? I'm sure someone here has a purse full of Xanax or Valium."

  "I'll be fine," she said and peered up at the third story. "Let's just get that mess handled. Oh, and I don't want anyone coming and talking to me like, 'We're sooo sorry, Jess! We always wanted to tell you" or whatever bullshit. Tell them all to leave me the fuck alone, will you?"

  "I will."

  FIVE

  After the Texas Smiths had left the party—"Bunch of frightened goddamn hypocrites!" Uncle Frank had chosen as his parting words—the whole family got together to begin the quietest deconstruction they could muster for the third story, including the other two uncles involved in its creation. Having sobered up quite a bit, they apologized and agreed they had been out of line, agreeing that the family's continued secrecy was essential.

  Other relatives kept the small kids occupied in the TV room watching the big New Year's performances and the countdown to the ball drop.

  Up on the roof, Kyle tried to keep his mind off the evening's revelation. He knew Jess might struggle with the knowledge for the rest of her life, and there was nothing he'd be able to do about it. He shook off the creeping dread and focused on the demolition, creating tools as needed.

  Uncle Jack made a bunch of rubberized claw hammers and a canvas chute to quietly guide debris into the pool, and Aunt Kim kept an eye on the neighbors' windows, ready to block out views.

  In the end, the roof was clear once more, and everyone climbed safely back into the attic.

  "I'm going to patch it up now," Kyle said, but his father stopped him.

  "How about a skylight? There's never been enough light in this room."

&nbs
p; Kyle smiled. "Might as well get something out of this mess, right?"

  A second later, a domed skylight appeared all at once, with surrounding wood frame, insulation, drywall, and roofing.

  Kyle turned to his father. "Good?"

  "Perfect. What time is it, anyone?"

  "Five minutes," Elle said. "Let's hurry down!"

  Every inch of the TV room packed tight with family, Elle and two others distributed glasses of champagne and apple cider.

  "Is everyone here?" Serg called just as the ten-second countdown began.

  Eyes scanned the room in search of missing faces as the crowd began counting down in sync with the pre-recorded ball drop from New York.

  "Ten … Nine … Eight …"

  "Where's Anita?" Aunt Margery shouted over the group. "She didn't leave with her parents, did she?"

  "Seven … Six … Five …"

  "I'm right here," Anita called back from the other side of the room, and an excited Margery pointed her toward Kyle.

  "Go on, you two! A kiss! For the family peace!" Margery winked.

  Kyle and Anita raised their glasses to each other and shared a knowing smile. Kyle's smile quickly fell. Beyond Anita stood Jess, her eyes a bit glossy, focused miles away. He needed to know that she would be okay.

  "Three … Two … One …"

  The calls of "Happy New Year" rang out, glasses chinked together, kisses exchanged, noisemakers blown and spun. And, as was tradition, Serg and Elle began herding the family out to the front yard to well-wish the neighbors. But in the driveway, only a few steps off the front porch, the group stopped abruptly, and a jam formed at the front door.

  "What is it?"

  "Keep moving, people!"

  "What's happening?"

  Kyle and Jess slipped out of the group, over the porch rail, and through the flower garden. Rejoining the family in the driveway, they observed everyone gaping at something in the sky. Kyle turned toward the street, realizing it wasn't the sky everyone was staring at. In the middle of the street, surrounded by cracked and upraised asphalt, stood a 100-foot-tall stone obelisk, towering over the neighborhood. The base was roughly the size of a garbage truck and had the entire street blocked off to traffic.