Midnight

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘What did you promise them?’ I asked.

  He nodded with a knowing smirk. ‘A promise of freedom given to those in servitude is a strong motivator. Unfortunately, I could never set them free. They were far too valuable to me. I needed their protection. And later, as you’ve witnessed first-hand, I needed their services in other ways.’

  ‘The Queen,’ said Hugo, abruptly looking up from his work. ‘Why didn’t she just take the guardians from you?’

  Augustine’s forehead lifted as he shifted his gaze to my brother. ‘Thalia didn’t know how to use the sclav, therefore, she had no control over them. There were many who suspected I was involved in the king’s death, though no accusations were ever made. Because of this, I needed a certain level of protection. Since I was no longer Roma, I couldn’t depend upon the Marksmen. I agreed to go quietly into my marimé, but only if Thalia ordered the Council to hand the gargoyles over to me.’

  Hugo grunted. ‘Which she obviously did.’

  ‘She didn’t have a choice, really. The sclav was guarded by my shadowen, and she had no hope of getting either it or the guardians back. I allowed her to save face by publically announcing that she’d given me the gargoyles as a means of protection from those in our kumpania who saw me as a murderer. After all, a dead Gypsy cannot be marimé, but to live with the loss of one’s Roma blood is a punishment worse than death.’

  I shook my head, barely able to contain what he’d said. Anya, Thaddeus, and Matthias were once guardians for the king. They’d killed the very person they’d sworn to protect and then gone to serve the traitor responsible for it. No wonder the Outcasts were so wary of gargoyles.

  I finally had the answers I’d been seeking, but it definitely made me feel worse. This was so much bigger than me, or my status as Josephine’s guardian. Augustine’s plans had been years in the making – worked out in intricate detail long before I even had memories of life.

  I rubbed at the manacle on my wrist, feeling the sting of the diamond spikes as they pricked my skin in the same place as my dandelion brand. ‘You were able to gain control of your father’s gargoyles, but it’s not going to work on me. You’ve already tried. I’m seal—’

  ‘Yes yes,’ he said impatiently, waving his hand in the air like I was a fly, buzzing around his head. ‘You’re sealed to my niece, and you’ll fight me until your last dying breath, and so on. We’ve been over this. It’s old news. And, quite frankly, entirely irrelevant.’

  Hugo sat back on his stool and let out a big puff of air. ‘It’s finished.’

  We all stared at the tattoo. As always, my brother had done a professional job. The shading, the lines, everything was perfect. But even though it shared my appearance, the ink portrait looked like a stranger to me.

  Hugo cleaned up the space, like he was back at the shop on a regular workday. He continued to move slowly. I’d lost track of time completely, but I’d never seen him finish an intensive black-and-grey tattoo like that in less than two hours. Was that enough time for Ezzie to figure out what to do? I didn’t doubt she could handle several Marksmen on her own.

  I glanced quickly around the room, discreetly sniffing the air. I didn’t smell anyone besides from Augustine, Hugo, and the two crossbow guys. It seemed weird that he didn’t have more Marksmen with him. And Quentin was gone, too – somewhere with Josephine. My chest instantly ached.

  ‘Okay,’ said Hugo, pushing away from the table. ‘I did what you asked. Don’t guess you probably care about bandaging it up or anything.’ He suddenly lunged across the table and grabbed Augustine by the shirt. ‘Now call Donani and get his lackeys to back off my clan. Now!’

  The Marksman on my left whipped his crossbow around, pointed at Hugo’s head. But Augustine only tilted his head to the side, looking mildly amused.

  ‘Careful, Hugo,’ he said. ‘The artwork’s quite tender.’

  ‘Call them off.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Augustine. Hugo released him, glaring as Augustine admired his arm for several moments before pulling a phone from his jacket. ‘Even marimé like myself can be honorable. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it.’ He set the phone in front of him. ‘Just as soon as I’ve finished.’

  ‘Finished what?’ Hugo demanded.

  Augustine nodded at the Marksmen.

  The next instant happened in slow motion. I saw the crossbows, and I jolted back, wings parachuting out. I heard the triggers click, the whoosh of the arrows as they released. Pain exploded in my other shoulder. I dove over the table as my leg gave way in a bolt of white fire. I hit the floor and spun around in a crouch, readying myself to spring.

  But then, my entire body revolted.

  I fell backwards as scorching lava poured over and through me. Vaguely, I noticed the two arrows, one in my arm, and the other embedded deep in my thigh. My body convulsed, wings beating out of my control. Hugo was yelling, fighting with one of the Marksmen, vying for the crossbow in his hand. The other Marksman guarded Augustine, his diamond sword drawn and glittering in the lamplight.

  I gasped for air, clawing at my chest. The lava rose higher inside me. I was drowning in it. I rolled over, onto my hands and knees, battling to bring my wings to my back and stand. I locked eyes with Augustine. He clutched his arm, his face contorted into a grimace, his teeth clenched. The tattoo turned viciously red and inflamed.

  Invisible spiders scurried up and down my spine, and then moved outwards from my chest, into my arms and legs. I raised my arms in horror. Black veins sprouted like miniature lighting bolts underneath my skin, all over my body. My eye sockets burned like they’d been stabbed with torches. I threw my hands protectively over my head and huddled in the floor, unable to move; to do anything but let the fire consume me.

  ‘Sebastian!’

  Hugo’s voice, yelling at me. But it was distant. I was caught in the current, and the shore faded away. The current was brutal, unrelenting, pulling me towards something. I was trapped, like a boat going over a waterfall. My body and my mind split. I rose above myself, watching helplessly as the current took me to—

  Augustine.

  I felt it, just as I had with Josephine – the sealing of a guardian’s will to its charge. The fire cooled, hardening the lava around my heart. I saw myself rise to my feet, but not completely upright. I’d changed. It was done. My mind floated higher, farther away from the room. My body approached Augustine and stood resolutely beside him. Hugo thrashed wildly between the Marksmen. But I didn’t move. Didn’t try to help him.

  The room dimmed. And my mind evaporated to mist.

  34. Josephine

  As soon as Quentin escorted me out of the elaborate bedroom and through a set of double doors, I knew we were in the heart of the Court of Shadows. The tunnels were wider here, clean and polished. Electric lanterns hung from the ceilings, connected by metal fixtures and murals of intricate painted artwork lined both walls, depicting caravans and colorful scenes from our past.

  ‘What time is it?’ I asked, as we turned walked down several stone steps.

  ‘Late afternoon,’ he answered pleasantly, like nothing had happened between us. ‘You must’ve been pretty tired. You hadn’t even moved both times I came to check on you.’

  I chewed on my fingernail. A year ago, the idea that Quentin had been so attentive would’ve made me smile. But now, I felt like a stranger had been looking in on me. He wasn’t a stranger, though – not really. He’d always been motivated by his job, always dogmatic in his beliefs as a Marksman.

  I’d never questioned it because I’d never been presented with anything else. But the moment Sebastian appeared in my life, my world expanded like a helium balloon. The shadow world changed from being something I feared, to something that held inside it a long-forgotten promise – a hope that made my heart swell in my chest.

  Shadowen weren’t the curse. It was our refusal to believe they could be anything else besides the curse. We’d been convinced that we could handle things ourselves. We wouldn’t accept t
hat salvation was possible outside our own walls. Quentin couldn’t change because he’d never see past that. But I had. I’d discovered gargoyles weren’t just our guardians. They were living breathing souls. They were good.

  And Sebastian represented the best of our legends.

  Watching him suffer such horrible things and still endure … it made me want to do better. To be better.

  The tunnel brightened suddenly, and I looked up as we passed through an opening and into a spacious dining hall. Even though it had been five years since I’d been in our Outcast Haven, I recognized the place immediately: The Gathering Chamber.

  Six long tables ran parallel the length of the room, sandwiched between long wooden benches. Chandeliers gleamed from the ceiling rafters. The walls were covered with paintings, fashioned to look like massive windows to the outside world, just like the bedroom where I’d awoken earlier.

  The window to my right displayed a wide field underneath a night sky full of stars. The one on my left was a forest meadow with a Gypsy caravan around a bonfire. The painted window in front of me captured my attention – a hauntingly beautiful cathedral with spires and Gothic architecture. Nestled along the parapets were statues of creatures of all shapes and forms. The statues peered solemnly over the rooftops. In the center of the painting was a single gargoyle, crouched, with head bowed and eyes closed, frozen in a prayer-like state.

  The painting was almost a replica of the one that hung in the living room of our RV at the Circe. A dull, growing ache seeped through my skin. I remembered Sebastian looking at the painting. He saw himself in the images, I knew. And I watched him, this strange mix of boy and living statue, standing in the middle of my living room. The boy, with his jeans and Converse, t-shirt and slightly messy hair, with that lopsided, somewhat embarrassed smile. And the creature – wings angled over his head, wings so large they skimmed the floor, even when folded to his back. Gray skin, sharp-tipped ears slicing through his pewter hair, and teeth and claws he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried.

  I took a sharp breath to hold my emotions in check. That’s when I noticed there were other people in the Gathering Chamber. Four guards – two men and two women – stood at attention beside a raised platform that ran the entire width of the hall. It held another table lined with chairs, which were the seats of honor for the Queen, the High Council members, and visiting bandoleers.

  A woman sat alone at the center of the table.

  ‘Go on,’ said Quentin giving me room to pass. ‘She’s expecting us.’

  ‘I thought you said just me.’

  ‘I did,’ he replied. ‘But I can’t let you see her alone. I have to make sure you don’t say anything to damage my stellar reputation. The Queen doesn’t know about my connection with Augustine. She only knows I’ve accompanied him here on Nicolas’ orders, to ensure he doesn’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘Like the dutiful Marksman you are.’

  Quentin looked mildly offended. ‘I’ve never done anything that wasn’t in the best interest of the clans. As I said, Augustine is a means to an end for me. Someone has to be willing to get his hands dirty to repair what’s broken. The world isn’t black and white, Josie.’

  ‘No,’ I said, studying him. ‘It’s gray.’

  Quentin’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. He led me down the center aisle formed by the tables. The sound of his boots on the stone floor caused the woman to glance up.

  The woman rose and glided around the table. She wore a long, ruffled dress in a patchwork of rich colors, adorned with several heavy pieces of traditional jewelry. Her hair was hidden by a turquoise scarf, which wound tightly around her head and flowed down her back.

  ‘Aunt Thalia,’ I said.

  Her lips quirked downward. ‘Although we’re related, my dear, I ask that you address me with proper respect inside the Court.’

  I dipped my head in our show of respect. ‘Kralitsa.’

  My aunt motioned us forward and stepped down to the floor. Instantly, the four Marksmen guards began to move in tandem, following her closely. One was tall with a buzz cut. He looked at me with particular interest as the Queen paused, scrutinizing every detail.

  ‘I was told you were here in the Court of Shadows,’ she said. ‘You know your presence here is forbidden until the proper time.’

  ‘I didn’t have a choice, Kralitsa. My guardian was taken from me.’

  ‘The gargoyle,’ she replied, ‘is a murderer.’

  The words sent a burst of heat through my chest. ‘I don’t know what lies Augustine has told you—’

  ‘You will not mention the marimé here, even by that name.’

  She raised her chin, as though the matter was finished. But I’d come too far to be shut down like that. She may have been the Queen, but I was her successor, and that had to mean something.

  ‘May I speak with you in private?’

  She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head in thought. I felt Quentin tense beside me.

  His eyes shifted to the Queen. ‘With all due respect, Kralitsa …’

  ‘You’re dismissed,’ she said, nodding at him.

  His face darkened, but he managed to hold his perfect smile in place. He bowed low, and when he lifted his head, he looked once more like the smooth, confident man I’d grown up with. I realized then how much of a mask he’d worn around me.

  ‘Of course, Rani.’ He regarded me with careful eyes. ‘I’ll be waiting for you outside, Josephine.’

  He sauntered out of the room with a casual gait, but I knew him too well. He was completely furious. I felt I’d regained a fraction of control, and I wasn’t about to stop there. I glanced at the four Marksmen surrounding us.

  ‘I’d like to speak in complete privacy,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind.’

  Then Queen’s harsh lips turned upward. ‘Very well, Josephine Romany.’

  She clapped her hands once, and the guards left the room, exiting through another door opposite from the one we’d entered. The Queen turned with an air full of absolute authority and walked back to the table. The hem of her dress slid across the floor. After seating herself, she lifted her hand, indicating for me to approach.

  ‘You may speak freely now.’

  ‘Aunt Thalia,’ I said, ignoring her previous request, now that we were the only ones in the room. ‘I’m here on the behalf of my guardian. It’s my fault for not coming to you earlier, but I had no idea what they were doing to him.’ I pressed a hand over my chest to squelch the ache. ‘Sebastian Grey needs to be released immediately.’

  ‘The gargoyle.’ Her gaze was steady. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

  ‘Since you’re not giving Sebastian a trial, you’re at least going to sit there and hear me out,’ I said. The Queen raised her hand, but I kept going. ‘You tell me I can’t even say Augustine’s name, but you’ve allowed him entrance to the Court of Shadows. You listened to his lies. Sebastian is innocent, but you haven’t given him so much as a chance to even prove himself.’

  ‘Enough.’ The Queen’s expression remained firmly composed. ‘I will forgive your discourteous outburst, as I can see you’re quite emotionally invested in this creature’s fate, but I’m afraid you’ve made the journey to Savannah for nothing. The marimé has already shown the gargoyle to me. I’ve seen his ability to fight, and I’ve also seen his volatile, unstable nature. It’s all the proof I need.’

  ‘So you’re just going to let Augustine hand him over to the Sobrasi?’

  The Queen raised her thin brows and peered down at me, surprised. ‘You have knowledge of the Sobrasi. That’s good. Those with important futures should be aware of all things in their world, whether on the surface, or hiding below.’

  I stared at her, exasperated. ‘How could you possibly trust him?’

  The Queen’s composure dropped enough for me to see the venomous fire behind her eyes. She adjusted the sleeves of her dress with deliberate care before answering. ‘I’ve never trusted him.’ Her
eyes met mine. ‘I allowed him into the Court to deliver the creature, but also so that I could see my former brother for myself. It’s been many years since he was exiled. He wanted an audience with me, but I had already suspected as much, and I granted it to him.’

  The knot on the back of my head throbbed, and I rubbed my neck. ‘Why would you do that? It violates the terms of marimé.’

  ‘I know the terms,’ she replied coldly. ‘I needed to know if my suspicions were correct. They were. He had discovered my secret, that I had named you successor. I had betrayed him.’ The Queen rose and walked slowly from one end of the table to the other. ‘I made a promise to him, just before he was sentenced to exile. I told him that when I could no longer hold the throne, I would pass it to him. I would renounce his marimé status and name him my successor.’ She paused and stared out over the empty hall. ‘In return, he agreed to leave quietly.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. The High Council sentenced him. He would be forced to leave, no matter what. There’s more to it than that.’

  The Queen rested her hands on the back of one of the chairs and peered down at me. ‘Smart and discerning.’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘It runs in the family.’ She drummed her fingers on the wood. ‘Yes, there is more. But first, you must know, I never had any intention of giving the throne to my brother. I only made the promise so he would leave the kumpania. You were always my choice.’

  A ringing started in my ears. I vaguely recognized it as my frustration, welling inside me. I threw my head back, shutting my eyes. ‘But why me, Aunt Thalia? I never understood why you picked me. I mean, you could’ve convinced my father to change his mind, or even my brother. They both have more claim than me. ’ I opened my eyes and stared at the floor. ‘Why me?’

  Her reply came with a more gentle voice. ‘Josephine, you know as well as I do that the hearts of the Romany men have always been with the Circe and the clan, and they always will be. I don’t fault them for it. I needed someone who would be willing to look at the larger picture, someone willing to give up what they wanted for the good of the kumpania. You were my choice, Josephine, because you’re not like the rest of our family. You have the ability to bring unity back to our people.’