Champion of Midnight: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Chronicles of Midnight Book 2)

by Debbie Cassidy

  “What do you mean he disappeared?”

  Malphas’s face was a map of sorrow. “He was gone. Just like God before him. We searched far and wide, but there was no sign of him.”

  “And the meeting with the powers?”

  “Was finally granted. Abbadon went in Lucifer’s place. And from that meeting, Arcadia was born. A place where we would remain for a century. A place where humanity would be tested with the horrors of the world. The magic, which warps, is a metaphor for the ills of the outside world, and humanity’s endurance and faith are tested. Arcadia is a place where we can test to see if free will is in humanity’s best interests, or if they would give it up for sanctuary. The only proviso was no interference by either side. No Black Wing or White Wing could coerce humans, save humans, or hurt humans.”

  It was beginning to make sense now. “So, you employed the nephilim to protect them on our behalf?”

  Malphas’s green eyes twinkled. “Yes. At first, when we lay with humans, it was for comfort, but after Arthur began killing us, Lucifer ordered us to procreate, to make nephilim, because he knew that one day, our numbers would need to be swelled.”

  Arcadia was a testing ground. This whole city was a lie. “How do we get out?”

  “A century was the limit, and we are almost upon that, but the White Wings are winning. Despite the nephilim’s efforts to keep humans safe, too many humans have given up their free will. Every twenty-five years, if the Black Wings were winning, outsiders would come to balance out the human population. But the last twenty-five-year mark came and went with no new entrants.”

  “How much time do we have left?”

  “A year, maybe less.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then the White Wings will take the world, and we will be honor-bound by oath to sit back and allow them to do it.”

  No. That couldn’t happen. “We need to stop them. We need to tell the humans.”

  His expression hardened. “You cannot. Do you understand? For if you do, the contract will be void, and the White Wings will win by default.”

  “What’s stopped them from telling the humans and just taking the win?”

  “They have taken an oath not to do so; it ties their tongues and they cannot physically speak the words.”

  “But you can?”

  “Yes. Cruel temptation, for can you imagine how often the words have hovered on our tongues? It is a relief speaking them to you. The only stipulation in the contract is that a Black Wing or nephilim cannot reveal the truth to a human.”

  “So, what can we do?”

  He glanced at my wrists again. “The Black Wings can’t do anything, but the nephilim can. They can keep on fighting. They can keep humanity safe.”

  And the Black Wings needed to keep me out of the White Wings’ clutches. I was more than a prisoner. I was the possible key to a set of deadly weapons. My heart sank. “Abbadon won’t let me leave, will he?”

  Malphas tucked in his chin. “Your life is important. We have no idea what your demise could mean for the daggers, and although Abigor’s methods are harsh, his logic is not flawed.”

  “What about The Order. Have you considered speaking to them? They could know what the daggers are for. Maybe they can even remove them from my skin.”

  His face tightened. “The Order is misguided. You must stay away from them at all costs.”

  “But—”

  “Rest, and I will bring you some food. Tomorrow, I will show you around your new home.”

  My new home? No. It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let it. If they weren’t going to let me go, then I’d have to find a way to escape.

  Chapter 10

  I dreamed of Drayton, of his hands cupping my face and his breath warm on my lips. He was about to kiss me, and my heart was in my throat with anticipation, but before his lips could brush mine, he jerked back, his eyes wide with horror. Blood dribbled out of his mouth.

  “You killed me. How could you kill me?” he said.

  I awoke to tears on my face and an ache in my heart that was so deeply embedded I doubted it would ever recede. A knock sounded on my door and then Malphas appeared with a breakfast tray. I sat up, wiping at my tears, and his face contracted in empathy. He set the tray on the bedside table and fixed a huge smile on his face.

  “Eat and dress, then we will explore the mansion together.”

  His kindness was a balm that took the edge off my sorrow. He left me to it. Deep breath. Today was a new day. Today, I would make a mental map of this place, and then I’d make my escape.

  The food was good: eggs, bacon, toast, and beans. When was the last time I’d eaten a cooked breakfast like this? Probably over a month ago. Jesse made the best weekend breakfasts. We’d lounge on the sofa reading afterwards. If I had to work, I’d make sure I had the afternoon shift so we could still have our mornings. God, how I missed her.

  Malphas returned a half hour later. “Are you ready to see your new home?”

  I nodded and smiled. Let him think I was on board, that I’d given up hope of leaving. He’d be much more inclined to let down his guard then.

  I followed him out into a wide hallway decorated in soft magnolia colors. It was modern and cozy and nothing like the dark, forbidding place it pretended to be from the outside. The floors were carpeted in thick, dark pile, and fancy lighting was fixed to the walls.

  “I didn’t expect everything to look so new and modern.”

  “It didn’t use to be,” Malphas said. “But after we were here for several decades, Abbadon decided to begin renovations. It’s taken a while, but we’re finally comfortable.”

  We padded past large French windows overlooking a sloping garden.

  “It leads to a track that takes you down to the beach,” Malphas provided. “Maybe in a few weeks, we can go? I can fly you over the walls.”

  A few weeks? Yes. They’d need to make sure I was settled and no longer wanting to make a run for it.

  I nodded politely. “That would be nice.”

  We descended a short flight of stairs onto another floor. How high up were we? It was impossible to tell with the house being on a cliff. It threw my perspective completely off. This floor was much of the same: corridors, locked doors, and wide hallways.

  Malphas stopped outside a dark wooden door. “This is the library. Do you like to read?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  He smiled and opened the door before standing back to usher me through. Now this was a room to spend time in. It was huge, filled with books slotted neatly into cases that stretched up to a high ceiling. There was a wide grate, not lit, but probably impressive when filled with a roaring fire. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books nearest to me, titles I’d never heard of bound in leather with golden words pressed into the spines.

  “Would you like to come here later?”

  This time my smile was genuine. If I was going to be stuck here for some time, then reading was a good way to while away the hours. “I’d like that.”

  The rest of the tour was mundane in comparison, but my mental map was building. With each extra hallway or room I added, with each window or door I etched into my mind, came a sinking sensation because there was no way out. The grounds were bordered by high gates, locked at all times, because why would they need to use gates when they could fly in and out. But they kept out regular nephs and, in my case, would keep me in. The other side of the house was the ocean. Squashing the hopelessness, I continued to build my map. And then he led me to a set of French doors and into a wide courtyard filled with fighting Black Wings.

  On closer inspection, they weren’t fighting, they were sparring—some hand-to-hand and some with weapons—and overseeing it, his steely gaze fixed on the scene, was Abigor.

  He turned to us with a frown. “What are you doing, Malphas? I thought we agreed we would keep her indoors for the first week.”

  “She can hardly escape from the courtyard,” Malphas pointed out.

  He was right. The
damned space was at the center of the building. There was nowhere to run but back into the house. But escape was the last thing on my mind right now. It was impossible to tear my gaze away from the Black Wings, so many of them and so magnificent as they thrust and parried and leapt and rolled. Their powerful wings worked with them, raising up or tucking in tight to avoid the sharp edge of a blade.

  “They’re training.” Abigor’s tone was saturated with pride.

  “Training for what?”

  The corner of Abigor’s mouth lifted. “War.”

  War? “What war?”

  Malphas tutted. “Abi, please.”

  “She is blood of our blood, and she should know what we have in store, for she may very well fight alongside us.”

  This was intriguing. “What are you talking about?”

  “We made a vow to protect humanity. We vowed to our creator that we would guard them, watch over them, and allow them free will, and we will not go back on our word, not for any contract or treaty, because our promise to our creator supersedes everything.”

  My pulse kicked up. They were planning to fight. If the White Wings won, they were planning war against them. I looked to Malphas but his attention was on Abigor, and the expression on his face was murderous.

  Abigor glanced down his nose at me, scanning my face and reading my thoughts etched there, no doubt. “Yes, little neph, you have it. You have it.”

  Metal continued to clash against metal, shields clashed against spears, and whips cracked on the ground. The army of Black Wings prepared for battle, and for some reason, my blood began to sing.

  ***

  The fire had been lit in the library and the hearth roared in welcome as I stepped inside.

  “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour,” Malphas said. “I will need to lock you in.” He winced apologetically.

  My stomach tightened, reminding me that no matter how nice he was being, he was still my guard, and this was my prison.

  Averting my gaze, I nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  He retreated, and the scrape of the key in the lock raised a flutter of panic. I exhaled. It was just a room, a beautiful room, not a cage. Not this time anyway. The seat by the fire beckoned, but I needed a book first. Something to pass the hour. The room was larger than it looked at first glance, and the shelves stretched back into the gloom lit only by weak amber light. The tomes here were older, the leather battered and worn. There was a whole shelf of black leather-bound books written in a language I didn’t understand. One moment it was clear and the next it wasn’t.

  Latin.

  The strange language I’d never learned, though it seemed completely familiar to me. Sliding a random tome from the shelf, I settled into the armchair and flipped the book open. The words shimmered and then settled.

  The Watcher’s journal

  Entry 54163

  Watching him isn’t my charge, but he is compelling and impossible to ignore, and I know he is hiding something. Where he goes, who he sees, is a mystery, for it is impossible to follow once he takes flight, not without detection. There are plans afoot that I am eager to uncover. Today our Morningstar paid a visit to the nephilim who will help rid us of our murderer. What they discussed was veiled to me, but the expression on Lucifer’s face as he left the meeting sent a shiver down my spine. Are the other Black Wings aware of these visits? Should I make them aware? No. My duty is to keep a record of what I see, and that is what I shall do.

  Entry 54164

  Arthur is dead and the nephilim that ended his life has fled into the night. I have searched to no avail; he has vanished. But I suspect our lord knows of his whereabouts. Did he not visit the night before the act was committed? Was a plan of escape hatched then? The weapons, which should have fallen into Black Wings’ care, are gone also. There is a plan afoot that I do not understand. Maybe it is time to reveal my recordings to the others. To make them aware of Lucifer’s subterfuge and urge them to demand answers.

  “What do you have there?”

  Malphas’s voice startled me, and the book slipped from my grasp and to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, a gentle frown marring his forehead.

  “The watcher’s diaries.” He closed the book. “Unless you read Latin, this book is no good to you.”

  My mouth parted to tell him that sure I could read it, but instinct had me snapping it closed again. There was no point giving away too much information, not if this tidbit might help me escape somehow. It was unlikely that the ability to read a dead language would help, but knowledge was power.

  “It looks pretty.” I pointed to the book. “The cursive writing is pretty.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He walked off into the stacks and returned empty-handed a minute later. “Come. Let me take you back to your room.”

  I followed him out of the room and into the corridor beyond. The watcher had been talking about Merlin. Lucifer had met with Merlin and plotted something, but what? Lucifer was gone and so was Merlin. Coincidence? I doubted it. There was a connection. Maybe Lucifer knew where Merlin was? Maybe he’d even helped him escape with the weapons? But why not just hide the weapons himself, unless … unless he had. What if Lucifer had run off with the weapons, leaving everyone to think they were in Merlin’s possession? Urgh. My head ached. And what did it matter to us now, anyway? They were gone. The weapons were gone, and we’d been left fighting a centuries’-old battle. Best to focus on my own predicament. Best to focus on getting the heck out of here.

  ***

  For the next two days, I was either in Abigor’s company or Malphas’s. There was no chance to plot, or think, or plan. When I did retire to my room to rest, the key scraped in the lock, and I was trapped once again. But each day, my mental map grew.

  On the evening of the second day, I unfurled the map and studied it from every angle, growling in frustration when I came up against road block after road block. The ocean was my only escape, but the balcony was a sheer drop down to lethal jagged rocks that jutted out of the water like eager teeth. The only way out of this room was by air, and, unfortunately, I didn’t possess a pair of wings.

  The hours ticked by and my agitation increased. There was no option but to admit no one was coming for me. No one had told the Protectorate what had happened to me. I was truly a prisoner. And escape, if it did happen, would be days, weeks, or maybe months away. It’d be a chance opportunity, a slip in attention on the Black Wings’ part, and constant vigilance on mine. How long before they trusted me enough to let me wander about freely on my own? It was unbearable, and it was all because of these damned daggers, daggers that could set me free if only my demon would join with me. Fucking demon.

  “Where are you? Come on, take me. Take control or join with me or whatever you need to do to get me out of here.”

  There was total and utter silence, and Ambrosius’s words echoed in my mind—his revelation about the purpose of the demon. Drayton’s demon had proven it, and now mine was doing the same—the reason it was silent was because I was safe. I was safe in my clifftop prison, and there was nothing for it to do.

  There was no escape.

  ***

  Malphas brought me my evening meal and a pile of books. He set the tray on the bedside table and the books on the dresser. “Just a few of my favorites.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t summon a smile. My head ached from going over and over an escape plan that would never come into fruition.

  “The food is good. It’s chicken. I made it myself.” He nudged the tray.

  “I’m not hungry.” Yeah, I sounded like a sullen teenager, but what did I care what they thought of me?

  “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  “Are you? My friend is dead, and my other friends don’t even know because you won’t let me go so I can tell them. And there’s no way you’ll tell them, is there?”

  Malphas dropped his gaze to the floor. “No.”

  “And you want me to eat, and read, and stay loc
ked up in this pretty cage you have here. Well, I’m not like you. I don’t hide and do nothing when shit is going down.” I slid off the bed and strode onto the balcony. The silvery rays of the moon spilled over me, caressing, soothing, but I didn’t want to be soothed. “You know, I have half a mind to just jump.” I climbed up onto the railing.

  “Serenity, please.” Malphas held out his hand. “Please, get down.”

  Could I make it? Would I be lucky and miss the worst of the rocks? My demon wasn’t like Drayton’s. If I was wounded, that would be that. It couldn’t heal me, but Malphas could. He could heal me, and he’d be right behind me. If I made it, I’d dive down deep and swim. He couldn’t get me underwater, right? Not with those wings.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind. But I need to be free.” I jumped.

  Chapter 11

  For a brief moment, suspended in time, I was free, and the sea air filled my lungs, sending euphoria rushing through my blood. But the moment was too brief, and the lethal rocks were reaching up to embrace me—to cut and shred and slice.

  What had I done? My scream was ripped away by the wind, and then something slammed into me, and a band wrapped itself around my waist. I was rising up, up, and away from the black rocks, and back into the moonlight.

  Malphas. Malphas had caught me. But then I saw Malphas’s face suspended over the balcony, mouth open in a large ‘o’ of horror. If he hadn’t caught me, then who had?

  I twisted, trying to get a look at my savior.

  “Hold still, neph.”

  I knew that voice. Arrogant and cold. Abbadon.

  He dropped me on the balcony and Malphas quickly helped me up. The sea air still stung the insides of my nostrils. The rush of falling and the thrill of death still clung to me like the remnants of a waking dream.

  Abbadon glared at Malphas, his cerulean eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight. “What is she doing here?”

  The door to my room slammed open and Abigor barreled in. He stopped short at the sight of Abbadon.