Midnight

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘Tell me, Vadoma,’ he said, sauntering around the clearing as though he owned it. ‘What do you think these Outcasts clans would do if they had the power to control all shadowen?’

  ‘The Queen has made that perfectly clear,’ she replied. ‘Destroy them all.’

  Augustine smiled. ‘And what would you do, if you had this same power?’

  The men and woman exchanged looks with each other, but the woman continued to speak for them. ‘We believe that order can be established again in our natsia. Shadowen represent power, and power can sway the head of even the most unbending neck.’

  ‘Quite true,’ Augustine replied, lacing his fingers behind his back. ‘So if you had control of the shadow world, you would use it to gain power.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You realize, of course, that such a gift would have a price.’

  The woman’s harsh features coiled even tighter. ‘We’ve already agreed to bring you into our order and teach you our ways. We will restore your name among the Old Clans. That is more than sufficient payment, if indeed you can produce that which you’ve promised.’

  Augustine smoothed the cuff of his rolled sleeve. ‘The Marksmen pride themselves on their knowledge of shadowen weaknesses, while the Sobrasi claim to be the only true experts on the shadow world.’ He traced the outlines of the tattoos with his fingertips. ‘I, however, am master of both.’

  Something shifted inside the shadows of the clearing. I couldn’t see him, but I knew it was Sebastian. A terrible feeling wrenched my stomach. Hugo slid his knife out of the Marksman coat he still wore. On my other side, Ezzie rose to a crouch, her shoulders tense.

  Augustine spat on the ground in front of the head woman. ‘You aren’t worthy to be called Sobrasi. You lost your way long ago, and now …’ His eyes glittered with a dangerous light. ‘You are obsolete.’

  Grotesques exploded from the trees and shadows.

  They descended on the Sobrasi like a tidal wave. Terrible shrieks and screams pierced the air. And then, it was over. The shadowen vanished. I struggled to comprehend what had just happened – until I saw bodies scattered over the clearing, purple cloaks stained with blood. I cowered behind the tombstone as I choked down the sickness in the back of my throat.

  Augustine meandered through the dead Sobrasi, chuckling to himself. The sound sent an ugly sensation through me, like thousands of tiny spiders running over my skin.

  ‘Such a shame,’ he said, speaking to the dead woman sprawled on the ground. ‘Had your guardians been here then you would have stood a chance. Oh, but wait.’ He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘They are here, aren’t they?’

  From out of the shadows, Badrick and the other gargoyles materialized into the clearing. They moved like gray zombies, with deadened silver eyes and blank faces.

  ‘The learning I have mastered under your tutelage has been valuable, Vadoma,’ he continued, smirking at the woman’s corpse. ‘Now that you are all gone, I suppose I must find a way to carry on, as the sole Sobrasi.’ Augustine knelt and removed a cloak from one of the fallen. He fastened it around his neck. The front was sprinkled with blood. ‘Pity,’ he said, examining the stains. ‘I’ll have to have this cleaned.’

  He rose and flung the cloak behind him. He raised his arm, turning it towards the soft moonlight filtering through the trees. The shadows behind him shifted again, and my heart sank as Sebastian stepped into the light. His expressionless face was so void that I barely recognized him. I felt nothing inside – the bond between us was like a faded memory. I clung fiercely, but it was slipping through my fingers faster than I could stop it.

  Sebastian growled low. His eyes flicked sharply in our direction. Augustine’s smile dropped, as he seemed to be listening to something I couldn’t hear. Telepathy, I realized. Sebastian was communicating with him. Augustine had accomplished what I couldn’t. My neck burned hot.

  Then, Augustine’s expression shifted into a look of genuine surprise.

  ‘We have guests, you say?’

  Sebastian kept his eyes planted firmly on our hiding place. He jerked his head. The gargoyles vanished in mist. Before I could take another breath, cold hands were on me, yanking me from behind the tombstone. There wasn’t a chance to put up a fight. Our weapons were knocked away. The four gargoyles dragged us out of hiding.

  Augustine slipped a phone from the inside of his coat and pressed a button. ‘Quentin, I’ve found what you were looking for. Honestly, you must do a better job of keeping up with your bride-to-be. This is a terrible habit you’ve developed.’ He smiled at me in mock sympathy. ‘She’s in the cathedral cemetery. Do hurry, would you? I have a tight schedule to keep.’

  Augustine hung up and sighed. Then he gestured for us to be brought forward. Tamzen clamped my arms behind my back and pushed me along, her expression as empty as Sebastian’s. Badrick took Hugo by the neck, and the other gargoyles flanked Ezzie as we approached.

  ‘Good evening, Josephine,’ said Augustine politely. He glanced around the clearing at the dead Sobrasi. ‘You’ll have to pardon the mess. I wasn’t expecting you here.’

  I ignored him, turning my attention to Sebastian. He’d turned motionless again, like a piece of machinery that had suddenly been switched off. I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. ‘Sebastian …’

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t know you,’ said Augustine pleasantly. ‘Not anymore.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I’m not. Your Sebastian doesn’t exist anymore. My prah has finally incinerated the last of humanity within him. What stands in front of you now is a creature destined to lead. He’s the missing link the Sobrasi have searched for in vain for centuries.’

  My heart crumbled in my chest. Augustine knew the truth. Of course he knew. Sebastian didn’t break out of the dungeon because he wanted to escape. The traitor standing in front of me had summoned him here.

  As if reading my thoughts, Augustine nodded. ‘And now, the fabled La Gargouille serves me.’

  I stared into Sebastian’s face, desperate for any glimmer of recognition in his eyes. But it wasn’t there. Nothing was there.

  Augustine glanced at Hugo. ‘I suppose I must thank you for your part in it. Not that you had much of a choice, of course.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Family is such a weakness.’

  Ezzie hissed beside me. ‘You have shed innocent Gypsy blood.’

  Augustine switched his gaze to her. ‘Ah, the famous Esmeralda of the Original Guardians. Still trying to earn back your wings, after all these years. Still failing miserably.’ His smile returned. ‘You chose the wrong side, you know.’ She didn’t answer. Augustine tapped his chin and studied the bodies around him. ‘As to innocent blood, there is none to be found here. The Sobrasi needed to be purged, and now, it is done.’

  A flicker of light on the tombstones caught my eye. Two Marksmen had entered the cemetery through an iron gate at the back of the cathedral. They approached with lanterns in their hands. I recognized Quentin’s walk before I saw his face.

  Sebastian instantly came to life. He whirled to face the Marksmen, snarling threateningly. Quentin dropped his lantern and drew his sword. Augustine quickly held up his hand. Once more, as if hearing a silent command, Sebastian halted, though his teeth still flashed in the moonlight.

  ‘You have to appreciate his enthusiasm,’ said Augustine.

  Quentin kept his eyes on Sebastian. ‘No, I don’t.’

  Augustine clapped his hands together and addressed us all like he was the host of a party. ‘Well, this has been entertaining, but it’s time to go to church. The midnight service is already underway, and the Queen will be making an important announcement soon.’

  ‘Come on, Josie,’ said Quentin, taking great care to keep his distance from the dead bodies of the murdered Sobrasi. The idea that he was trying to hold to some semblance of Gypsy honor disgusted me. ‘You’re expected inside.’

  Augustine frowned at Hugo and Ezzie. ‘Not you, however. I believe you’d be too much of a
distraction.’ His lips pursed together in thought for a moment. ‘Ah, don’t worry. I have the perfect place for you to watch the entire proceedings. The best seat in the house.’

  Sebastian stepped back and flexed his wings. He thrust out his chest and let out an inhuman snarl. Suddenly, Badrick and the other gargoyles took the air, with Hugo and Ezzie in their clutches.

  ‘Let me go!’ yelled Hugo from above.

  The world around me sharpened into clarity. I craned my neck, watching helplessly as they were taken away from the cemetery, struggling and fighting against their captors. Their dark forms grew smaller as they headed for the looming spires of the cathedral and then disappeared somewhere along the rooftop.

  ‘See you inside, my dear,’ said Augustine.

  Sebastian placed a clawed hand on his shoulder, and the two disappeared into the oily shadowing mist.

  39. Josephine

  We walked up the back steps of the Cathedral of Saints and stepped into a small vestibule. Quentin kept his grip on my arm. I felt the tension radiating out of him. Just beyond a set of looming doors was the sanctuary. Every Outcast Gypsy who’d come to Savannah for the Summer Gathering was in there, observing the midnight service.

  The final notes of a song drifted through the cracks, echoing off the vestibule’s marble floors. I heard the priest speaking and the quiet hush that blanketed the sanctuary inside. Donani turned to Quentin.

  ‘My place is with the Queen,’ he said. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

  Without waiting for an answer, the Marksman slipped inside the doors and closed it silently behind him.

  I glared at Quentin, feeling my anger compacting into a fiery ball in the pit of my stomach. ‘And where’s your place?’

  There was no anger in his eyes. ‘With you, of course.’

  ‘Let go of me, Quentin.’

  He complied, his fingers slowly uncurling from my arm. He stared straight ahead as the priest’s old, raspy voice filtered through the doors. When the prayer began, Quentin leaned in towards me.

  ‘It’s time,’ he whispered.

  He opened the door and gestured for me to go in first. I found myself in the front corner of the room, just to the left of the altar space. Far above the sanctuary, arches and columns rose into the vaulted ceiling. Stained-glass windows and elaborate statues lined the walls. Two rows of wooden pews, covered in bright red cushions, stretched the length of the space from front to back. Every seat was crammed full of Roma.

  Bandoleers from all the clans took up the front row closest to me. Members of the High Council took up the opposite row, wearing shades of green in their hats and scarves to show their rank. Two members at the end of the row wore dark green hoods.

  Marksmen were positioned along the perimeter of the room, looking solemn in their black uniforms. All were armed with swords, and many of them had quivers of arrows strapped to their backs.

  The priest finished his prayer and seated himself on the other side of the altar. Donani stepped into his place, and his deep voice ran out through the cavernous sanctuary.

  ‘The Queen of the Outcast Gypsies speaks!’

  My aunt rose smoothly from the front row and ascended the steps to the altar space. Though the sanctuary was already quiet, she waited patiently until she seemed to feel that everyone’s attention was completely on her.

  ‘It is with God you have arrived,’ she announced.

  The assembly answered in one voice ‘It is with God we are received.’

  ‘Our kumpania is a proud one,’ she continued, her eyes roaming the crowd. ‘We rose against the Old Clans two centuries ago, against their corruption and lust for power. We left the Arniko Natsia and were named Outcasts. It’s not a title of shame for us. It is a reminder of the price of our decision. For over two hundred years, we have thrived here. We celebrate our traditions with our Annual Gatherings. We have our own rulers.’

  ‘May you live on in good health,’ shouted someone from the crowd.

  It was simple, traditional response, but I saw the Queen’s expression falter for a split second. She reached up, as if to touch her headscarf, but she seemed to catch herself and stopped. She smiled. ‘May you all live on in good health,’ she answered back in our customary reply.

  Then she continued. ‘Unfortunately, we brought with us the plague of our old natsia – the curse of the shadow world. Once, we had gargoyle protectors, guardians, but they failed us. We looked to the Marksmen for our safety in the interim. Still, the creatures lurk, and we must always look over our shoulders, waiting for the next attack.’

  ‘May God have mercy,’ shouted one bandoleer.

  ‘Rid of us prikaza,’ said someone from the crowd.

  ‘Prikaza,’ echoed another.

  Several spit on the ground in response to our term for bad fortune. Quentin’s hand lingered near his sword, and he slit his eyes in my direction.

  The Queen raised her hands, silencing the congregation. ‘I have come before you tonight, at the conclusion of this midnight service, to tell you that we can be free of our curse forever.’

  Several people in the crowd muttered questions under their breath. I saw expressions of wary bewilderment on the faces of the bandoleers.

  ‘We can step forward into a future without shadowen,’ the Queen continued, looking over the crowd. ‘The creatures can be destroyed, once and for all. However, it will not be without a price. I come before you now, before the High Council and our people, in hopes that you will agree to the terms.’

  A gray-haired man sitting among the High Council members stood from the pew and bowed slightly. ‘What terms, Rani?’

  My aunt nodded at Donani. He stepped forward and called to the back of the room.

  ‘Enter and approach the Queen.’

  Two Marksmen opened the center set of double doors. All attention in the sanctuary went to the man who entered. He was dressed in a deep purple cloak, with the hood drawn low over his head. Even this far away, I could see the blood sprinkles on the edge of the material. The ball of fury inside me solidified as Augustine made his way to the altar.

  People leaned together, speaking in hushed whispers. Those in the front pews swiveled their necks, trying to see who approached. The atmosphere of the sanctuary shifted, like a giant thermostat had been switched on. Augustine reached the steps and turned to the crowd.

  The Queen’s expression went taut. ‘No doubt many of you remember the transgressions of my former brother thirteen years ago and the sentence handed down by the High Council.’

  A low rumble circulated through the assembly.

  ‘An agreement has been made,’ she said. ‘Between myself and the one known as Augustine. In return for his help in ridding us of the shadowen, his marimé status will be lifted and his Gypsy blood restored as Adolár Romany. He will then be allowed to leave our kumpania without penalty.’

  The bandoleers and Council members suddenly erupted in furious accusations. I felt the warmth of bitter satisfaction rush through me. It may have been thirteen years since Augustine had been banished, but the hatred ran deep.

  ‘Silence,’ said the Queen in a loud voice. ‘It a small price to pay for vanquishing an entire plague. I have given my word, but contingent on his own word that he will annihilate the vermin.’

  Augustine lowered his hood.

  ‘Traitor!’ shouted someone near the front.

  Several bandoleers stood with murderous glares. The Queen waited with a patience that I’d seen from her many times. The authority in her stance was like glue, holding the leaders in place. Once more, I found myself awed by the command she carried. I’d almost forgotten about Augustine until my aunt stepped aside and allowed him to take the floor beside her.

  ‘Thank you, Kralitsa.’ He smoothed the fabric of his cloak as he studied the faces in the crowd. ‘I know how you all feel about me, and this is neither the time nor the place to rehash the things of the past. Rather, tonight is about the fate of the shadow world.’ He gestured to the Marksmen l
ining the sanctuary. ‘You kill them with your diamond weapons. You capture them for training tools. You use Vitamin D to subdue and even sedate them. But has this rid you of the menace? No, it only allows you to keep the status quo. But they grow in numbers, looking for opportunities to attack. You’ve trapped yourself in a cage of your own making.’

  Augustine suddenly laughed. He spun to face the Queen. ‘You know what amuses me most, dearest sister? You believe yourselves to be so righteous.’ A sneer twisted his lips. ‘You don’t see the corruption within your own ranks. You’ve allowed yourself to be terrorized by the very creatures who could’ve been your victory. Instead, you chose to run, to leave the Old Clans. It is weakness, it is a stain on the entire natsia.’

  ‘You were once an Outcast yourself,’ said the Queen.

  ‘True, and it took your redeeming sentence of marimé to push me forward to the truth.’

  ‘What truth is that?’

  ‘You were never fit to rule,’ he replied.

  The Queen’s face reddened in fury. ‘So it’s the throne you want.’

  ‘Of the Outcasts?’ Augustine seemed offended. ‘Certainly not. That’s for my niece. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Thalia. I’ve known for quite a while.’ He glanced around the room before returning to the Queen. ‘But since we are sharing such an intimate moment, I’d like to confess something to you.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘I never intended to kill any shadowen for you.’ Augustine leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m going to kill everyone else.’

  The Queen’s mouth gaped open, and her body shuddered violently. Augustine pulled away, a knife in his hand. Blood dripped from the blade and splattered onto the marble floor. The Queen stumbled backwards. Donani caught her in his arms. I bolted for the altar, but Quentin was faster.

  ‘What did you do?’ he demanded, drawing his sword.

  ‘I think it’s obvious,’ said Augustine. ‘I just relieved this kumpania of its Queen.’ He raised his arms and spread them wide before the assembly. ‘And now, you will all share the same fate.’