Midnight Kiss

by Sarra Cannon

  Sexual energy oozed from this woman. I could feel the heat coming off her in waves as her eyes devoured me from head-to-toe.

  “I’m just waiting for John,” I said, my voice high-pitched and weak.

  She laughed and the sound sent a flush of warmth through my middle. “John should not have left you alone, poor thing,” she said. She crossed to me in a rush of dark shadows. I don’t know how she got behind me so quickly, but her body pressed against my back and her lips skimmed the top of my shoulder.

  My breath hitched in my throat and my heartbeat pulsed against my skin.

  “Delicious,” she whispered. “Close your eyes, dear Alice.”

  I was helpless to deny her. The room felt thick with heat.

  Her fingertips skimmed across the flesh of my arms, leaving a trail of burning desire. I had never been attracted to a woman in my life, but her touch ignited something deep within me. I pressed my thighs together and swallowed hard, my mouth dry.

  “Meghan, stop,” a deep voice commanded.

  The haze surrounding me instantly cleared, and I opened my eyes. A black shadow flew past me and in a blink, the woman was standing at the door again, mask raised to cover her eyes. She ran her long fingertips down John’s arm and shook her head. His crimson ropes and mask were gone, replaced by the black t-shirt and jeans I was used to seeing him in.

  “Why’d you have to go and spoil my fun?” she said in a pouty voice. “This one’s got a purity about her I haven’t seen in a great many years. It would have been nice to introduce her to our world.”

  John narrowed his eyes at her. “She’s not here for you,” he said.

  “Pity,” the woman said with a smile. She glanced back at me and winked. “Maybe some other time, dear.”

  She left the room and the sticky heat of passion followed her.

  I clutched the back of the leather chair, my knees weak. I let out a ragged breath. “What the hell was that?”

  “A very special kind of demon,” he said. “A succubus. Your first encounter?”

  I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. “I thought they were myths.”

  “You should know better than to think anything is a myth after what you’ve seen,” he said. “There are secrets within secrets here, and things are rarely what they seem.”

  “So I’m learning,” I said.

  “Let’s get you out of here before you meet any more mythological creatures who want to seduce you,” he said. His eyes lingered on my lips for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “Or worse.”

  I shuddered. My legs were still trembling as he led me down the hall and out into the windy October night.

  Dust And Ash

  “This is your truck?”

  John opened the door of an old blue Ford that looked like it had seen better days. “If it’s not good enough for you, we can take your car.”

  A dig for sure, since I’d driven up in a clunker of my own.

  “That's not what I meant,” I said. “I like it. Reminds me of home.”

  I climbed onto the long cracked seat, and John shut the door behind me. He came around the front and eased into the driver’s seat.

  “I’ve had this baby for a while,” he said. “We’re old friends.”

  “How old are you, exactly?” A question I'd been dying to ask since he first opened the door.

  His eyes twinkled again. “Older than you. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He pulled out onto the quiet street and started back toward downtown.

  “Which cemetery are you taking me to? I thought all the cemeteries around here closed at sunset.”

  “They do.”

  He wasn’t one for giving extra information. I kept feeling like I had to pull every word out of him.

  “And how do you propose we get in?”

  A hint of smile formed on his face. “You’ll see.”

  I recognized the cemetery right away when we pulled up. It was one of the oldest and most famous cemeteries in New Orleans. St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. I had done the requisite tourist visit with a group from school when I first moved here. In the light of day, it was beautiful. Unlike most modern cemeteries, where all the headstones were the same gray granite lined up in rows, the old graves in New Orleans were works of art, full of statues and mausoleums. All of the graves were above ground, bodies of the dead housed in beautiful stone sanctuaries. Most of them closed at night due to vandalism and crime. With the raised tombs, there were lots of places for thieves to hide.

  John parked along the black-iron gate that wrapped around the entire cemetery. The wind had really picked up in the past half-hour, and I shivered as I stepped out of the truck.

  “Can you fly?” he asked.

  At first, I thought he was joking. But as his feet left the ground, I realized he was serious.

  “I never tried,” I said.

  “Take my hand.” He floated back to the ground and held it out to me.

  I placed my hand in his and warmth rushed through me. He was the last person I’d expected to be spending my evening with, but after dreaming of getting to know him for so many months, it felt like fate the moment our hands touched. It was no accident I'd been drawn to him from the first time I saw him.

  He pulled me into his arms and I liked the rock-hard feel of his body against mine. I didn’t know if it was sexual tension still built up from the woman's advances back at his house, or if what I was feeling was completely natural, but I didn’t care. My whole future rested with this man, and I felt warm and safe in his embrace.

  “Hold on.” He lifted us into the air and the wind blew my hair all around us as we floated over the top of the iron gate.

  When our feet hit the ground again, I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved the feeling of being weightless in the air. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that later,” I said.

  His eyes met mine, questioning. As if the thought of spending time with me beyond this one night had never occurred to him. Embarrassed, I pulled away.

  “Or not,” I mumbled.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He led me through the winding labyrinth of vaults and tombs. The full moon shed enough light for us to make out where we were going in the darkness, but the paths were narrow and many of the tombs were crumbling and decayed.

  “What are we here to get?” I asked.

  “Black roses,” he said. “We need them to help draw the magic of the ink out of your skin.”

  I thought about the way the ink of the tattoo had burned going in. Would it hurt coming back out? I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted it gone. If he could really get rid of this tattoo, I would never have to worry about potions or the eyes of the Order watching me. I would be free.

  John walked in silence toward the very back of the cemetery where the oldest of the tombs rested. I remembered, from the tour I took, that this cemetery was established sometime in the late 1700’s. Were we here to visit a grave as old as that?

  After walking a few minutes, he finally stopped in front of a narrow tomb with a pitched roof. It looked like a tiny church with a steeple and a cross resting on top. A marble statue of a cat sat on the bottom step. Flowers were strewn across the steps and several strange coins littered the ground. Votive candles lined the sides of the steps, but several of them had been crushed. Broken glass shone in the moonlight.

  The name on the etched gravestone was too worn to make out in the darkness.

  John laid his bag down on the ground and knelt beside it, taking out a pair of thick leather gloves.

  “Whose tomb is this?” I asked, stepping back to take in the full view.

  “Katharine Lawson,” he said. “She was a witch who practiced the dark arts here in New Orleans back before it was cool. She died in the early 1800’s at the ripe old age of one-hundred-seventy.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “That’s impossible. No one lives to be that old.”

  He looked at me. “You’re either a very slow learner o
r you were a very sheltered young witch,” he said. “Through the darkest of magics, a witch can live lifetimes if she has enough blood to feed her sacrifices.”

  A cold wind blew across my skin, and I pulled my arms around my body. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the things he knew about the world.

  John stepped closer to the tomb and patted the head of the marble cat. It was an affectionate move that made me wonder if he had been around long enough to know Katherine Lawson before she died. He placed his gloved hands on the left side of the door at the entrance and angled his feet to get better traction. Stone grated against stone as the door to the tomb slid open. I gasped as a crack of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder rolled in the distance.

  Every hair on the back of my neck stood up and I had to turn to look behind me just to make sure no one was standing there.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “But nothing ever really is.”

  He disappeared inside the tomb and a moment a later, a dark blue glow illuminated the area. I stepped closer, my insides quivering. I didn’t like the energy of this place. It scared me.

  “Oh, my God,” John said in a half-whisper.

  “What? Are you okay?” I asked. I forced myself to walk to the tomb’s entrance. The inside was very small and smelled of dust and ash. I expected to see bones inside, but instead, there was only dirt and dark green stems littering the ground.

  “They’re all gone,” he said. When he looked up, I saw the fear in his eyes. “Every single black rose has been taken.”

  Terror clung to my bones.

  After midnight, my life would no longer be my own.

  Their Suspicions

  “Someone’s been here. Tonight or earlier today, I’d guess. Who could have known you were coming here tonight?”

  I shook my head, half-paralyzed in fear. “No one. I didn’t even know I might be coming here tonight.”

  “Someone knows,” he said. He crouched low and picked up one of the discarded stems. “I’ve only been here a handful of times. Black roses are dangerous unless you know what you’re doing, so I try to avoid them when I can. The few times I’ve been here, this tomb was crawling with them. Dozens upon dozens. More than any one witch could use in a lifetime. Whoever took these roses was specifically trying to prevent anyone from using them.”

  I brought my hand to my mouth. Without black roses, John wouldn’t be able to get rid of my tattoo. It was only an hour until midnight, and I could feel my life slipping through my fingers like sand.

  “It had to have been Phoebe,” I said. “If they've been following me, trying to confirm my identity, they might have had this planned all along. The broken potion. The missing roses. They're just waiting for midnight now so they can be sure.”

  John stood and replaced the cover on the witch’s tomb. He removed his gloves and stuffed them back in his bag. “We have to move quickly,” he said.

  I followed him back through the narrow paths. Flustered, I kept tripping on the jagged edges of tombs on the narrow path. “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “Look for more,” he said. “If the Order really has gone to all this trouble to keep you from concealing your true identity, that means they are very serious about locating the girls who abandoned the Order after the fall of the blue gates. I don't even want to think about what they have planned for the ones they find.”

  Terror ran through my veins like ice-cold water. In Peachville, I had watched my best friends turn to strangers in the blink of an eye. Brooke. Lark. The Order’s hold on them corrupted their souls, stealing everything that might have been beautiful about them. And they were obedient. What would they do to someone they felt had betrayed them?

  My phone rang again in my purse and I yanked it free of the bag. As if she’d known we were talking about her and the Order, Phoebe’s name popped up on the screen.

  “She’s texting me,” I said.

  “Phoebe?”

  “Yes. She wants to know where I am and why I haven’t shown up at the frat party yet.”

  “Frat party?” He raised his eyebrows.

  I rolled my eyes. “Cliche, I know, but I’m a college freshman. What did you expect?”

  “Before I knew you weren’t one of them, that’s exactly what I expected,” he said. “Tell her you’re with a guy and don’t give specifics. Act all girly, like you’re on a date or something. Don’t give her any tips that you’re looking for the potion or anything to keep you invisible to them. You have to try to convince her you don’t care about the potion.”

  “Do you think she knew what it was?”

  “They probably have their suspicions, but Kalisa would never give them any information that would betray you,” he said. “And a witch from the Order wouldn't be able to walk into her shop without her knowing who they are.”

  I stopped. Chills broke out on my arms. “Phoebe went with me to the Midnight Cauldron earlier tonight,” I said. “She insisted on coming with me, but once we got there, she refused to go in. She said she didn't believe in that voodoo crap.”

  “There's our confirmation, then,” John said. “She's definitely part of the Order.”

  My hands felt clumsy on the screen as I typed out a reply to Phoebe.

  I’ll catch up soon. I’m with a guy! Juicy details soon!! xoxo

  John gathered me into his arms and leapt over the gate, more urgent this time. He ushered me back into the truck and sped off, leaving the cemetery behind us.

  My phone buzzed.

  O.M.G. Who? Wes is asking for you.

  John leaned over and read the text message. He frowned. “Who’s Wes?”

  “Jealous?” I was teasing, but he did actually seem a little upset about it.

  “Of course,” he said, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “I thought I was your only crush at school.”

  I wanted to crawl under the seat and hide. “Was it really that obvious?”

  “When you’ve been around as long as I have, it’s easy to tell when a girl has the hots for you,” he said. Now he was the one teasing.

  “I wouldn’t say I had the hots, exactly.” I scooted lower in my seat. “Besides, you made it abundantly clear you aren’t interested.”

  “That’s because I thought you were one of them,” he said. “Like I said, I already had my eye on Phoebe and the rest of your little group as possible members of the Order, but I couldn’t be sure. You didn’t follow the typical pattern of sorority girl or cheerleader. A charismatic beauty like Phoebe would normally have a much larger social circle, but she doesn’t hang out with the most popular girls on campus. But now it all makes sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Order must have known you'd be keeping a low profile,” he said. “They knew you wouldn't be going out a lot or pledging sororities if you wanted to stay hidden, so they placed their initiates as close as they could get and made them seem like relatively normal girls. Just like you.”

  I closed my eyes. How could I have been so blind? And what about my mom? If they'd been watching me for a while, did that mean they knew where she was, too?

  My heart tightened.

  “Do you think my mom is in danger?”

  “Possibly, but we can’t worry about that right now.” He glanced at his watch. “We only have forty minutes until midnight. You’re my main concern right now.”

  His words reached deep inside me and tears welled up in my eyes. Six hours ago, he couldn’t care less about me. He thought I was a member of the Order and wanted nothing to do with me. But now, he was willing to risk everything to save my life.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said.

  He reached across the seat and grasped my hand. “The Order has taken a lot from me, too,” he said. “I know what it’s like to constantly live in fear of what they might take next.”

  We held hands as he sped along the back roads, avoiding traffic where he could. There was such sadness in his voice. I wo
ndered who he had lost over the years. There was so much I still didn't know about him.

  After all this was over, if I was still alive and safe, I hoped I would have the chance to ask him all these questions in my head.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “Underground,” he said. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Things could get dangerous where I’m taking you, but with the time we have left, it’s our only hope.”

  Underground New Orleans? “I didn’t even know there were places underground here.”

  “I don’t suppose you brought any sneakers,” he said, flashing a smile.

  I laughed and shook my head, still clinging tightly to his hand.

  Carved In Stone

  The French Quarter teemed with people.

  Loud music poured from every bar on Bourbon Street and people in full costume carried brightly colored drinks in large plastic cups. Everyone was laughing and dancing, but my heart pounded for an entirely different reason.

  I was running out of time.

  John wasted no time trying to find a legal parking spot. He ran his truck up on a sidewalk and jumped out.

  “You’ll get towed,” I said.

  “I can afford the fee.” He took my hand again as we raced across the street and into the crowd.

  We pushed through throngs of party-goers dressed as everything from clowns to witches to grown-up babies. Some women were topless, wearing nothing more than tight skirts and elaborate masks. Walking just a few feet took five minutes and every muscle in my body tightened in frustration.

  “We won’t make it,” I said over the noise. “There are too many people.”

  John paused. “I need you to hold on very tightly to my hand,” he said. “This is going to feel a little strange, but whatever you do, don’t let go.”

  Wide-eyed, I nodded and clutched his hand for dear life.

  In an instant, his body turned to shadow and my breath left my lungs as he ripped me forward through the crowded street. We moved so fast, I lost track of myself. We slipped through a sea of blurred faces, the world tumbling and turning.