Magic at Midnight

by Lyssa Chiavari

  My fingers itched to slide into the dress, to strap on my heels, to twist up my hair. I wanted to dash down the woodland path to the clearing and twirl and swirl under the twinkle lights with my friends. I wanted Michael to wrap his arms around my waist, hold me close, and dance with me.

  But I had betrayed them all. Michael and my friends. I had jeopardized the Lab.

  I had no reason to wear this dress, no right to wear this dress. I took it from my closet, and while the rest of the girls were painting their toes and curling their hair in preparation for the last dance of the summer, I went to the mall and returned my dress.

  I shoved the cash into my pocket and went home, wishing I could return everything about this summer and pretend it had never happened. I wished I could return Michael’s memories.

  Wait.

  Maybe I could return Michael’s memories.

  At 11:45 that night, I dashed down Main Street, wearing shorts and a T-shirt and flip-flops, my hair down and loose. The night was the warmest it had been in weeks, but I shivered as I approached Hawthorne’s. Please let him still be there. Please don’t let me be too late.

  I pulled open the door and rushed inside, and there he was, coming out from the kitchen, untying his apron.

  “A small vanilla latte with extra sugar and a blueberry pie pocket to go, please,” I said. I was breathless from running—and from finally seeing Michael again.

  The corner of his mouth rose. “I just got off duty,” he said. “But hold on. I’ll get your order.”

  “No, wait.” I inhaled his scent. Powdered sugar and spice. “I didn’t really come here for blueberry pie.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “I need to give you this.” I took the cash I’d gotten for my dress and pushed it into his hand. “It’s to replace your phone.”

  “My phone? How did you know it was missing? And why do you need to replace it?”

  “There’s more.” My heart beat in my throat. “Will you come with me?”

  “Where?”

  “Just come.” I held out my hand, and he took it. My hand belonged there, in his warm grasp. It fit perfectly.

  I led him out of Hawthorne’s, down the street, to the edge of the woods. The girls had already started down the path with a flutter of skirts and a clacking of heels. Anna was easy to spot in her dress, which was covered in so many rhinestones she looked as if she herself were made entirely of diamonds. They stopped when I called out to them. They turned, stiffening when they saw Michael.

  Anna pushed her way to the front of the group. “What are you doing here?”

  I stood tall. Anna had backed down before when we’d stood up to her, when Hedda had insisted on healing Michael after the owl had scratched him, and again when I’d insisted Carmen call off the coyote. I needed to do that again.

  “Anna,” I said, “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I had the best time this summer, dancing with everyone and hanging out with you. I’ll leave if you want me to, but I want to stay. I want to be friends again.”

  Anna looked me up and down, and the fire in her eyes extinguished. “I want to be friends again too,” she muttered to her feet. Then she squinted up at Michael. “But what about him?”

  “I trust him,” I said, shrugging.

  Behind Anna, the girls looked at each other, murmuring.

  “Lila, what’s going on?” asked Michael.

  “I’ll show you.” I led him, followed by the girls, down the path, over the bridge, past the Lab, all the way to the clearing. I brought Michael to the center. The girls gathered at the edges. They were the watchers this time.

  I stepped closer to him, holding both his hands, feeling his warmth. “I could tell you what’s happening,” I said, licking my lips. His lips were only a few inches away. I stood on tiptoe to make them closer, and he brought them closer still. “But the only way you’ll believe me,” I whispered, feeling his warm breath on my cheek, “is if you see it for yourself.”

  And then I kissed him.

  His lips were warm, soft. Tender and strong at the same time.

  Without breaking the kiss, I released his hands and slid my arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He wrapped his arms around my waist.

  Instead of a mental pull this time, I pushed, and his memories, trapped inside my mind, transferred back into his.

  The nights he’d hidden behind a tree, watching us dance, amazed, as gentle snowflakes floated from the sky, as lights twinkled from the branches, as the air cooled and music pumped, as we swayed and swirled and twirled and laughed. His memories of being discovered, and cornered. His memories of me taking his hand and wiping his memory.

  All the memories I’d stolen from him, I returned.

  Still holding each other tight, we stopped kissing for a moment. “Wow,” he panted, gazing into my eyes.

  “There’s one more thing I need to do,” I said. “I’ve never done it before, but if it works, it’ll explain everything.”

  The corner of his lip went up again. “Go for it.”

  I kissed him again, and instead of pulling this time, I heaved a mighty mental push, and transmitted my own memories into his mind:

  We danced in the woods at midnight. Every night. All twelve of us.

  We danced because it was fun, because it was summer. We danced to celebrate our youth and our freedom and our friendship. We danced because no other girls could dance the way we could...

  ♛

  My memories belonged to Michael now, too.

  Our kiss lasted much longer than it had taken to share my memories, and when we finally parted, we noticed the twinkle lights, and the music, and my friends swirling and twirling and laughing around us.

  Because he knew everything now, he knew how fatigued I felt. Gently, he guided me to the edge of the clearing and wiped the leaves and moss from a fallen tree trunk, and helped me sit. But he hadn’t spoken yet, his eyes dark, his expression unreadable. Was he angry? Was he going to expose us anyway? Whatever happened next, I wouldn’t wipe his memory again. I wouldn’t do that to him.

  “Michael,” I said, still trembling, “Are you okay?”

  I couldn’t breathe until he answered.

  “That was...” he said, then he burst out laughing. “Incredible. Wow. Wow.”

  Warm relief spread through my limbs. He wasn’t upset. He was thrilled. Awed. Amazed. “You know about us now, and the Lab,” I said. “But you have to keep it a secret. You’d destroy us if you tell anyone.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  I wanted to kiss him again. “But that means you won’t have an article for your scholarship application. I’ll help you think of something else.”

  He scrubbed the stubble on his chin. “Actually, you already did. You know the man standing behind you at the diner that morning, the one you called ‘the round guy’ in your memory?”

  “Yeah...” That man was so inconsequential that I would never have thought of him again if I hadn’t just shared all of my memories with Michael. “He was on the phone with a woman named Nelly.”

  “Well, ‘the round guy’ just happens to be the mayor, and Nelly isn’t a woman, he’s the owner of a construction company who’s known for bribing politicians to throw business his way. Now, thanks to your memory, I know the mayor is talking to him. I’ll do some investigation to prove they made some kind of deal. If they did, I’ll have my scholarship article after all.”

  A grin spread across his face, and he kissed me. Gentle, playful, then urgent and powerful. I kissed him back hungrily, no memory exchange this time, just pure, perfect, glorious kissing.

  When we finally stopped, breathless and beaming, the dance was in full swing. The music pumped, the lights twinkled, the snowflakes floated from the trees. The girls swirled and twirled and spun. Anna beckoned to us, laughing.

  “Michael,” I said, “will you dance with me?”

  Hand in hand, we walked to the center of the clearing. I wrapped my ar
ms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  And together, we danced.

  It’s happily ever after for Lila and Michael, but the story doesn’t end here. Read more about the psychics of this world in the Deception So series—characters from this story just may make an appearance!

  ♛

  About the Author

  Clara Kensie grew up near Chicago, reading every book she could find and using her diary to write stories about a girl with psychic powers who solved mysteries. She purposely did not hide her diary, hoping someone would read it and assume she was writing about herself. Since then, she’s swapped her diary for a computer and admits her characters are fictional, but otherwise she hasn’t changed one bit.

  Today Clara is a RITA® Award-winning author of dark fiction for young adults. Her debut, the super-romantic psychic thriller Deception So series, was named an RT Book Review Editors Pick for Best Books of 2014, and Deception So Book One: Deception So Deadly, is the winner of the prestigious 2015 RITA® Award for Best First Book.

  The first two books in the Deception So series, originally released as the six-part Run to You digital serial, are now compiled into full-length novels, Deception So Deadly and Deception So Dark. The series will continue soon with the never-before-published Deception So Dangerous. Clara’s contribution to this anthology, “Dance of Deception,” is a stand-alone romance set in the Deception So world with all new characters, some of whom may make appearances in future Deception So books.

  Clara’s critically-acclaimed novel Aftermath (Simon and Schuster/Simon Pulse), a dark, ripped-from-the-headlines drama about hope, healing, and triumph over tragedy in the tradition of Room and The Lovely Bones, was on Goodreads’ list of Most Popular Books Published in November 2016, and Young Adult Books Central declared it a Top Ten Book of 2016.

  Clara’s favorite foods are guacamole and cookie dough. But not together. That would be gross.

  Visit Clara online and sign up for her newsletter at ClaraKensie.com

  Books by Clara Kensie:

  Deception So Deadly (Deception So, Book 1)

  Deception So Dark (Deception So, Book 2)

  Deception So Dangerous (Deception So, Book 3) (Coming soon!)

  Aftermath

  The False Nightingale

  a retelling of The Nightingale

  ♛

  MARY FAN

  A new dawn woke over the proud mountains and rolling seas of Huangjing, capital of the planet Caixing. Named for the rainbow hues banding the land, Caixing had been settled generations ago by Daiyu’s ancestors from Earth.

  Starships from a hundred worlds descended from the rose-gold sky, each carrying their civilization’s most important political and cultural ambassadors to attend Daiyu’s coronation. Whirring transports zipped over Caixing’s colorful surface, bringing tribute from the outlying provinces.

  It was a day that would long be remembered in Caixing’s history. But Daiyu wished she could close her eyes and wake to a world where it would never happen.

  As the third child of her royal parents, she’d thought she’d get to choose her own path. She’d spent years training to be an operatic soprano, dreaming of gracing the galaxy’s greatest stages. But empresses didn’t get to be singers.

  Still, Daiyu understood her duty. She stood before the Empire’s gilded throne, which was carved with celestial dragons winding through shooting stars, and gave polite nods to the dignitaries who’d come to pay tribute to Caixing’s new ruler. Her neck felt ready to snap under the weight of the elaborate headdress, which was bedecked with golden phoenixes and ruby tassels. It crowned her head of ornately twisted black hair. Her ceremonial dress, made of heavy yellow silk embroidered with whirling patterns of galaxies and tigers, seemed ready to drag her to the ground.

  She tried to act as her parents and brothers would have expected her to. A year had passed since a rogue asteroid had shattered the starship carrying all four of them, and the wounds in her heart were finally starting to heal. The nation, too, seemed ready to move on from its collective tragedy. She’d worried that the regents would refuse to cede power when she’d come of age at eighteen, but those fears had been unfounded. Apparently, her coronation was the salve Caixing had needed to recover from losing their beloved Emperor and Empress—her beloved parents.

  Beings from every corner of the galaxy approached to offer gifts and blessings. The red columns of the Great Hall, wrapped with gilded dragons made of stars, shimmered around them. Daiyu greeted each with practiced words, trying to exude the same effortless grace her mother had. She hoped her resplendent ensemble and bright red lipstick made her appear more mature than the shy, round-cheeked girl she was accustomed to seeing in the mirror. The small, pale girl with the wide, innocent black eyes and the demure cherry-blossom mouth.

  If she’d been born with her father’s imposing height or her mother’s authoritative stare, she might have seen an empress when she gazed at her own refection. And if she’d seen one, she might have felt like one. But Daiyu had spent most of her life thinking her destiny lay in playing wilting damsels and lovely maidens onstage. That destiny had suited her.

  Unlike her brothers, she hadn’t been educated in politics and diplomacy. Though she’d spent the past year cramming her head with relevant knowledge, everyone knew she was still merely a soprano who’d been thrust unwittingly into the Empress’ throne.

  Yet she was the Empress, whether she liked it or not. And by the stars, she would behave like one. She was all too aware that many expected her to be a malleable puppet, someone clueless and naïve they could manipulate. She’d seen it in the greedy, ambitious eyes of the Empire’s ministers, guild leaders, and regional representatives. She refused to yield to their expectations.

  Nervous as she was, Daiyu tried to appreciate the parade of marvels before her. It seemed the entire universe had sent ambassadors to greet her, from the tall, blue-furred Orinians, with their large yellow eyes and twisting silver horns, to the gelatinous blue Whiswheri, who slithered like snakes but morphed into humanoid forms to speak to her.

  Since Caixing was known for its arts, many had brought performers to serenade her. The winged Ash’iii had brought a band that produced music by flapping their feathers through the air. The eight-legged Pashans had brought a troupe of dancers who flowed like ribbons upon the hall’s bronze floor.

  But the performer who’d captivated the court the most was from Caixing itself.

  Daiyu didn’t need the Master of Ceremony’s introduction to recognize the famous Vox Jarik, known as the Bilin Nightingale. Two years ago, she’d persuaded her parents to let her travel all the way to Llayu on the other side of the galaxy just to attend an opera the young tenor was starring in.

  Jarik’s black hair was pulled in a stern topknot that accentuated the severe beauty of his sharp, gold-complexioned cheekbones and hard chin. A pair of piercing black eyes, tilted under hooded lids beneath thick brows, met her own. He lifted his lips into a confident smirk, one that told the world that though he was merely a musician from the rural Bilin Province, not even royalty intimidated him.

  Daiyu’s heart fluttered. When Jarik began to sing, she thought it might fly away. The song of triumph he performed in her honor seemed to be spun from a million yellow stars. The strength he sang of, the victory and the honor—she felt it in her own chest.

  Yes, Caixing was a great nation. Yes, she was its great Empress. And yes, she would bring her people glory.

  By the time Jarik concluded his song, Daiyu felt ready to lead a fleet of starships into combat—even though they were a peaceful nation and had no enemies. Her parents had spent their lifetimes brokering treaties to ensure that.

  “Does he please you, Your Majesty?” A soft voice slithered past her ears.

  Daiyu looked over to find General Drokka Res, one of her many advisors, leaning toward her with a glint in his hazel eyes. She nodded. “He is very talented.”

  “It would honor him if the Empress invited hi
m to approach.” General Drokka gestured at Jarik.

  “Yes, of course.” Daiyu recalled the many times her parents had asked a particularly talented performer or well-spoken advocate to approach the throne. She cleared her throat. “Vox Jarik. Your performance pleases me. Please, come.” She extended one hand invitingly.

  A smile brightened Jarik’s lips. The blue silk of his tunic glimmered as he walked up to her. Though he bowed deeply, the confident glint in his eyes was anything but humble. “You’re too kind, Empress.”

  “You… did well.” Daiyu paused, trying to recall what her parents had said in similar situations. White noise filled her memory, and a slight panic rose up her throat.

  “You could invite him to stay at the palace as a member of your court.” General Drokka’s smooth voice slid into her ears. “It is what your parents would have done.”

  Daiyu considered the many artists her predecessors had brought to the palace—the musicians, painters, dancers, and acrobats who’d spent the entirety of their careers serving the royal family. She couldn’t deny that she wanted Jarik to stay with her. Asking him to join her court seemed like the proper thing to do.

  “Vox Jarik.” She lifted her chin and gave the singer what she imagined was a dignified look. “I wish for you to join my court.”

  Jarik’s grin widened. “I would be honored, Empress.”

  General Drokka stepped forward and spread his arms. “The Bilin Nightingale will be staying at the palace at the pleasure of our new Empress!”

  Applause and cheers rose from the audience. Daiyu breathed a sigh of relief. At least she’d done one thing right. She looked at Jarik, who gave her a playful wink. Heat rushed to her face. A few years ago, even as a princess, she couldn’t have imagined such a handsome, talented, and renowned singer looking her way.

  Now that she was the Empress, everything had changed.

  ♛

  While the people of Caixing celebrated their new Empress with fireworks and dancing, an old engineer labored in her humble home. Far from the vibrant streets of the capital, with its jutting skyscrapers and cloud-piercing pagodas, Lao Qiu tinkered in the silver dome that was her house.