Midnight Law

by Geanna Culbertson

  “It worked!” Billy exclaimed.

  “How do you know?” Caleb asked.

  “Look!” Billy said, pointing at the tree line. Golden rays appeared as daybreak claimed the sky. “Swan Maidens change back to swans at sunrise. They’re still human. Which means they’re completely human!”

  Clarissa and the others shed their cloaks. Then they took stock of themselves and grinned widely. “Our skin—it isn’t burning! We really are free!”

  The girls jumped for joy and hugged the Swan Men gleefully. Everyone seemed ready to celebrate; there was clapping and gushing and reveling all around. Except between SJ and me.

  “Daniel,” she said quietly, leaning closer. “This is wonderful, but why has the portal still not appeared? We have the flame. I thought we would pass the Midnight Law test by helping the Swan Maidens break their curse.”

  “I think there’s one part left to the test,” I told her. I glanced at Kai, who was speaking with Odette and the prince. “And I think I’m finally ready for it. Wait here for a couple minutes, will you?”

  I walked over to Kai and put my hand on her shoulder. “Can we talk in private for a minute?”

  “Sure,” she said. I steered her into the forest where our friends couldn’t see us.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed that the next portal hasn’t appeared. I think that’s because this test hasn’t finished, which is my fault because I haven’t had the courage to finish it.”

  She frowned. “You’re losing me, Dani. What are you talking about?”

  “Melior said the flame, the Swan Maidens’ freedom, and my own freedom from the darkness that holds me back are connected. Now I know what that part about my darkness means.” I took Kai’s hands in mine and met the suspicion in her eyes with sincerity.

  “Kai, I’m never going to forget the person I was. Every year, every stage, every experience I withstood in the past allowed me to become who I am now. But the thing is, I am finally ready to forgive that person. Knight told me once that the people who love me most would want me to forgive myself. She was right. And seeing what Odette and the Swan Maidens have done, it gives me the confidence to try.”

  “Daniel . . .” Kai pulled her hands away gently. “This whole thing with the swans has been cute, but it is not realistic. No one can ever be truly forgiven. Once you shatter a vase, even with the greatest care in restoring the pieces, you’ll never unsee the cracks.”

  A powerful sadness filled me. The fear I’d been suppressing could no longer stay quiet.

  “Is that what you see when you look at me, Kai?” I asked warily. “The cracks? We bonded so strongly when we were kids because I was vulnerable. It was easy for me to love you because you embraced me when I was alone and made me feel safe and wanted and seen. It was easy for you to love me back because I forsook all others and blended my life into yours completely. I was just yours because I was afraid to trust or let myself care for anyone new. But things are different now. I’m different. I’m not as afraid to let people in anymore. I want to trust people. And I want you to want that for me too.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long while. Daybreak lit her hair, but her face remained in shadow like the night we were leaving behind—dark as the black feathers that composed her cloak. She gazed out at the trees with her arms crossed and didn’t look at me when she eventually spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m not the type to let things go. The world isn’t merciful, so why should I be expected to be?”

  “Because heroes are supposed to be better than what the world expects them to be. Knight taught me that. The world has always tried to force her into being a conventional, meek princess and she’s spent her whole life trying to escape that prison.”

  Kai snorted and met my eyes now; hers were full of derision. “Daniel, don’t be so dramatic. Being born a princess in a castle isn’t any kind of prison. You’re starting to sound just like them.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like a main character.”

  I gave her a perplexed look. “But that’s what I am.”

  “No, Daniel.” She stepped forward and pushed me in the chest with one hand—not to shove me, but to get my attention. “You’re not. You’re confused and you’re in denial. It’s like chubby girls who throw out their fat pants if they lose weight, when they should keep them because it’s only a matter of time before they descend back to who they truly are. You have a book, Daniel, a prophecy that some psychic woman wrote, and a golden ticket to a fancy school. But you’re always going to be an orphan from the streets who stole to get by, worked in kitchens to get paid in meals, and whose fault it is that his family is dead.”

  Each word she’d said had been spoken harshly, but that last part was like a punch in the lung. I couldn’t remember someone hurting me so much. I hadn’t felt this devastated since SJ showed us that vision of Knight being tortured.

  How could she . . . Why would she . . .

  “Kai . . .” I still didn’t have full air in my body from the emotional blow. “I’ve always blamed myself for not being with my family when the fire started, or being there to save them, but I’ve never thought of it as my fault. Why would you say that? How could it be?”

  Kai took several steps away, crossing her arms again. “I’m only trying to prove a point, Daniel,” she said. “You don’t know what really happened because you weren’t there. Maybe one of those dumb collectible athlete cards you used to leave all over your kitchen got caught on the stove when your mom was cooking. Maybe those model train engines that you built with your dad finally overheated in the backyard. Maybe your sister found the firecrackers you used to hide in your room and set one off. It doesn’t matter. The point isn’t the cause, but the effect. If you were the reason the fire started and your family died, would you be able to truly forgive yourself? Or would it be a shadow you carried around forever?”

  It was like Kai was deliberately trying to hurt me. Like I said, I’d never considered the fire my fault. Why was she planting so many doubts in my head that it could’ve been? There was no way to verify it, which meant the “what if’s” she’d introduced would now swirl, unresolved, in my subconscious forever. Kai had a tendency to be cold or even cruel when she felt defensive, but this was way past anything I ever would have expected from her.

  “That fire being my fault is an extreme, unprovable example,” I said resentfully.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “When you believe in a truth or a principle, it should hold true no matter what the example. So tell me, would you forgive yourself if the worst thing to happen in your life was your fault?”

  I glanced down at the shadow creeping off my feet as the sun rose higher over the trees. Knight’s words and her face—compassionate and humble, unlike Kai’s at the moment—echoed in my mind again.

  “The people we love matter more than our own self-preservation. But I think those people would want us to forgive ourselves.”

  “I would try,” I said finally, meeting Kai’s eyes. “Shadows are always there clinging to us, but we can choose not to look at them. I am going to forgive myself for any part I may have played in my family’s death, Kai, real or theoretical. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to move forward and let people in. I’ll never be able to heal and be the man I know I can be if I stopped holding back. Forgiveness is necessary to be better; it’s the only way for individuals to grow and for couples to stay together.”

  Like a punch in the space-time continuum, a burst of green magic exploded in the air, forming the wormhole that we’d been missing. Midnight Law’s test of forgiveness had finally been satisfied with my acceptance of its value. I was satisfied with it too. I appreciated every shift that had happened here, except one.

  “It seems the universe agrees with you,” Kai said.

  I looked at her seriously. “Do you?”

  She uncrossed her arms and sighed sadly. “Does it really matter anymore?�
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  othing like a road trip through villain country!

  Once we’d defeated Rumpelstiltskin and had gathered up the several dozen children we’d freed, we needed to make sure that Mark and the munchkins escaped Alderon safely. It was about an hour journey to the 1:00 p.m. Ghost Dimension wormhole Mark intended to use as a shortcut back home to Dolohaunty. As long as we kept a good pace, we’d make that just fine. Chance looked antsy, but he knew this was time well spent and was all for helping Mark and the kids. We had two flames and it wasn’t even noon yet. Midnight was still far off.

  Now that Rumpel had become a statue, we no longer had to flee his factory in a hurry. So we’d gone back and unloaded gold from a couple more carriages—freeing them up for passengers. That equaled three vehicles to load with kids, plus a fourth thanks to the antagonist soldier who’d been through here.

  The weird horse-serpent thing attached to that carriage was creepy. But ever since I absorbed the Questor Beast’s powers, certain mutant animals tended to like me. I guess they respected my magical lizard essence. This monster was no exception. It nuzzled my hand and practically purred when I got close to it. Ergo, the bizarre creature was very willing to transport us as long as I remained close by.

  Another factor working in our favor was the Midnight Law portal itself. When we’d returned to the factory to prep the carriages, the portal reappeared by the loading bay. Turns out, if the quest’s main hero drifted too far from the portal for too long after it appeared, it would relocate itself. Now—as we migrated across Alderon—the portal kept periodically snapping open nearby.

  Mark, Girtha, and Chance each drove one of the normal vehicles while Jason drove the carriage we shared with the horse-serpent. Given my history with Driver’s Ed, the others “suggested” that I ride shotgun. I was sort of insulted by this—I had passed the class after all—but I wasn’t willing to put my pride before the safety of a bunch of small, formerly kidnapped children. I’d already put plenty of people at risk today.

  Crisa would have been proud of my plan to manipulate Rumpel’s deal. SJ probably would have smacked me in the back of the head for even suggesting it. Both of these would’ve been valid reactions. The plan had worked great, but I’d hated making that deal with Rumpelstiltskin. Relinquishing my free will to him for half an hour had been excruciating. Even thinking about his controlling voice in my head caused my spine to tingle. Add to that, I’d particularly hated having the urge to hunt and kill Jason. If we ever did get together, we’d definitely need couples’ therapy.

  Hm. That was the first time I think I’d actually entertained the idea of what it would be like being a couple with him.

  I stole a glance at the boy as I let the thought spin around my head a little longer. We’d probably share snacks at Twenty-Three Skidd matches. He’d offer to carry my books or weapons when we spent time together on school field trips, which I would refuse but appreciate. I wondered if it would make sparring together more fun or more awkward. It was already both; it was my favorite activity, but he was a pretty hot guy so being that close to him was equally exhilarating and uncomfortable.

  An idea popped into my head.

  Maybe that’s something I could do with my future. After graduation, I could open a small business—a gym where you could box and train with super attractive people. I’d call it “Hot Sparring.” The company t-shirts would sell themselves.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jason asked me.

  “Um . . . entrepreneurship?” I said.

  “What—”

  “Monsters coming in at one o’clock!” Mark called from the carriage in front of us.

  “And three o’clock!” Girtha yelled from behind.

  I glanced in the corresponding directions. There was a pair of ogres at three o’ clock and a trio of monsters at one.

  We’d been traveling at a solid speed across the Alderon wilderness and had developed a good system for dealing with these monster run-ins—me. I was happy to be handling our monster attacks. Idle hands and idle minds got into trouble. I was already trouble, so best to keep myself busy at all times.

  Jason pulled on the reins of our horse-serpent, stopping the vehicle. “You mind if I help you this time? My legs could use a stretch.”

  “Yeah, fine,” I said.

  “Kids,” I looked back into the carriage. “Be good. We have an errand to run. We’ll be right back.” I hopped off the carriage and looked the horse-serpent in the eye. “Stay,” I said. The creature shimmied its shoulders, which I assumed signified consent.

  Mark, Girtha, and Chance remained with the carriages as Jason and I bounded uphill through the forest toward the incoming eight-foot-tall ogres. Time for a touch of light cardio.

  “I’ll take the bigger pack,” I told Jason.

  “Because you’re more of a threat.”

  “You said it, not me.” I winked. We parted ways. Jason headed to face the two ogres with his axe. I drew my hunting knife and activated my Questor Beast powers as the ogre trio drew near.

  Fog.

  The signature mist erupted from my body and consumed the inbound purple ogres and surrounding woods like a blinding tidal wave. My Questor Beast ability for detecting and tracking creatures by their adrenaline and fear gave me a sixth sense that guided me to my targets. If I trusted my instincts—which I almost always did—I could maneuver with as much ease as if I had sight.

  I ducked as my powers detected a large fist swinging toward me.

  Three feet to the right, my powers whispered.

  I whirled around with my knife extended. The blade went straight into the side of an ogre and a loud howl shook the leaves beneath my feet.

  On your left, my magic said.

  I leapt to the side as interlaced fists came crashing down where I’d been standing.

  Back-to-back by the tree.

  I shoved my knife in its sheath, grabbed a low hanging branch, and swung up. I climbed a few more branches until I saw two large silhouettes in the fog. Then I concentrated. My insides boiled and my throat filled with heat before I released a well-aimed spit. The glowing, expanding crimson blob shot into the mist. A bright flash and the monster’s shouts ringing through the trees let me know I’d hit my target. I didn’t know how much of the monster my acid had taken out, but the thump of a body on the ground that came next confirmed it was enough to melt the ogre to death.

  Not a good way to go, but considering these ogres would have gladly ripped my limbs apart Rumpelstiltskin-style, I had no mercy. With my knife drawn, I leapt from the branch onto the shoulders of a nearby ogre and finished off that monster too.

  The creature collapsed face down and I hustled away from it.

  Behind you.

  My feet didn’t move as fast as my instincts, and the meaty arm of the last ogre standing sent me sailing into a pile of leaves.

  Oomph.

  A big silhouette lumbered through the mist toward me. I grabbed my knife and rushed in. The monster must’ve seen my glowing eyes. He clapped his hands together and lunged down, trying to squash me like a mosquito. I was faster than a mosquito and I had a meaner bite. I jumped up, not just eluding the ogre’s grasp but bounding on top of it. I boosted off his hands as he raised them again, twisted through the air in a partial flip over his head, and came down his other side stabbing my knife into the back of his neck. He roared and flailed about. I dangled from where my knife had pierced him for a couple seconds, then let go and flipped backward to avoid being crushed as his limp body fell to the leafy floor. I landed in a crouched position with the hood of my cloak over my head.

  All clear, my magic instincts told me.

  I took a deep breath, controlled my emotions, and focused—as Crisa had taught me—on reining in my powers. My heart rate steadied. The fog returned to my body like I was an enchanted turkey baster sucking every ounce of magic mist from the atmosphere. Soon it was all gone and I was left standing in the midst of three giant ogre corpses. Jason leaned against a tree nearb
y with his arms crossed.

  “Took you long enough,” he said.

  “I like to take my time,” I said, retrieving my knife. “Besides, you only had two monsters to deal with.”

  “Quality, not quantity,” he replied.

  “You’ve got me there.” We exchanged a smile. A smile was such a simple thing, but I appreciated this one a lot. The Rumpelstiltskin excursion had broken down layers of awkwardness and tension between Jason and me that had been thickening since Dreamland. I had blamed Jason and his feelings for causing that weirdness between us, but truthfully it was half my fault—me and my lack of feelings. Or should I say my lack of caring about his.

  Everything he said to me in the factory dormitory had been true. I’d gotten so wrapped up in my need for asserting independence that I had mistaken compliance for respect. I was glad he’d put me in my place. I was so hot-tempered sometimes I needed someone to point out when I was being stupid.

  In general, I could be a lot as a person—naturally combative, monster powers, unapologetic snark—so it took a lot for another person to stand up to me and try to help me be better. The fact that Jason was willing to, in spite of how difficult I made it, was the greatest sign of respect I could think of. And realizing that, it was understandable why I was now humoring the idea of him and me as a thing more so. I just . . . I didn’t know if I could act on it.

  As I looked at his smile, I was inspired to try. But when I looked away as we started walking back to the carriages, the doubts crept back into my mind—the fear and worry about losing my story, and myself, in him.

  These were not unwarranted anxieties. Heck, the very fact that I grew so flustered gazing at his grin was a warning sign. I was strong, fierce, and powerful. Anything or anyone who made me feel weak in the knees so easily should be kept at a distance. It was too dangerous otherwise.

  A bright flash of green light drew my attention, and our Midnight Law portal opened ahead of us. Again.