Midnight Ruling

by E. M. MacCallum

  “A clue, maybe?” I asked. “Related to this?” I pulled the red envelope out of my back pocket.

  He shrugged. “Could be.” His pale eyes caught sight of what I held in my hand. “What is that?”

  “Another message but this could be tricky.” I passed it to him. I explained about the library incident where the girl had grabbed my arm and told me to forget, then where I’d found the envelope.

  Aidan stared at the word elfelejt for a long moment before asking numbly, as if he’d rather not, “Do you know what it means? Is it an anagram?”

  “Not a clue. I think maybe it’s Hungarian.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  I’d thought long and hard on this one and only came to one conclusion. “My grandma on my dad’s side was Hungarian,” I said. “She used to speak it more than English but died when I was four.”

  “And you know this because…” Aidan swallowed, looking uneasy. “Because of the dream?”

  “Internet search, actually. Damien hinted that he hadn’t sent it. He said that when I found the black book then he was involved. I got that ankle thing just before I found the book.”

  “Ankh,” he corrected.

  Nodding dismissively, I continued. “But he denied knowing anything about the letter. Said it wasn’t the Demon’s Grave, but people just don’t…see things like that.”

  Aidan frowned. “Nell did.”

  “Ouch, Aidan.” I crossed my arms. “Same team, remember?”

  “No, I just mean that maybe it’s a family thing. Weird things happened in the Grave but weird things with you especially.”

  By then, you won’t be so worried about keeping your friends alive. Damien’s words rippled through my memory, making me shudder. Seeing Aidan watch me, I nodded to allow him to continue, and his voice softened.

  “Like how I’m supposed to be this Keeper person. I never knew about any of this until the Demon’s Grave. Tell me if I’m wrong, but is it possible that our friends are trying to tell us something? Something that only you or someone like Nell could pick up?”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me.

  My eyes roamed the room as I processed the weight of the words. Aidan was polite enough to wait as I twisted the bottom of my shirt. “…but how?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not about the how, rather the possibility.”

  I shrugged helplessly. “Anything is possible there, isn’t it?”

  He was already nodding his approval. “Can I keep this?” He waved the envelope at me.

  “Sure, if you think it’ll help with something.”

  “Might be our friends trying to tell us something,” he said, turning it over in his hands.

  Rummaging through the wood chips in the parcel, I stopped and glanced at Robin at the same time as Aidan. We were both thinking it; that was plain to see. What if the doll was from our friends too? Could they do it? Were they sending us those dreams so we wouldn’t forget?

  I found the black book and showed it to him.

  Slapping the large Egyptian book closed, he eased the black book from my fingers, careful not to touch skin. He set the ankh on top of the textbook and opened Nell’s notes.

  Leaning forward in my seat, I said, “It’s called the Midnight Ruling.”

  “What is?”

  “The ceremony.” I tapped the edge of the book in his hand. “We got it, Aidan.”

  He let out a long breath. “Jesus.”

  My smile fell when I saw the dread in his expression. “What?”

  He waved it off and reached for the book, which I passed over willingly. He flipped through it. “Yeah,” he said finally. “We got it. Are you ready for this, Nora?”

  “No,” I said. “But I don’t think I could go on knowing that they’re left there.”

  He sucked in his cheeks before sighing. “Me neither.”

  “The rain is tomorrow,” I reminded.

  “I know.”

  I watched his face as he did everything in his power to avoid my gaze. “Aidan, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I know already, Nora. Stop reminding me.”

  The bluntness took me off guard. I immediately wanted to start an argument but closed my mouth before the words could escape. Aidan was always calm before, never this agitated. Even in the grave, he kept most of his composure.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I think you should go. I need to get some things together,” Aidan said.

  Standing, I smoothed out my shirt. “Guess I’ll see you later then,” I said, feeling deflated and disappointed.

  He was ready to kiss me just yesterday, and today he almost felt hostile. Grabbing the ankh and the doll, I tucked them back into the box.

  I paused one last time, giving him a chance to speak. I had wanted so badly to see him since yesterday, and now that I had, I regretted it. He didn’t want to go; that was plain to see. I didn’t either, but what were we supposed to do? Ignore everything?

  I suppose we could. We could stay here and mourn our friends. They wouldn’t stay alive forever in there. We’d be damning them by changing our minds here. But here was so much better than there.

  “Aidan?” I asked, my voice stinging with emotion.

  He opened his mouth as if to answer me, his eyes roaming everywhere except on me. Reaching over, I snatched the black book from his hands, spinning on my heels before I could see his reaction.

  I started for the door. “I’m doing this tomorrow, but you don’t have to come.” I didn’t turn and I didn’t look back as I reached the front door. I became more and more disappointed. I wanted him to run after me, to apologize or just to say something to stop me.

  Could I do this alone?

  The idea frightened the hell out of me, and I thought about ignoring everything. I could have a good life here. My family was safe. I was safe. Aidan was safe. I remembered how Phoebe barreled into the first Challenge and opened the wrong door. She disappeared behind that door, but if the dreams were true, that meant she’d survived, didn’t it?

  The men who kidnapped Neive and me when we were young were also alive in the Demon’s Grave.

  I suppressed a shudder.

  “Nora?”

  His voice made my entire body freeze. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want him to see how much I needed him for this.

  “Tomorrow night. I’ll meet you behind your house.”

  I nodded, opening his front door.

  Behind me, Aidan said, “I just have some goodbyes to make.”

  I finally glanced back, hating myself for seeing his forlorn expression. “Me too,” I said. The weight of those words were like bricks, and after weak smiles of encouragement, I shut the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The rain started around four, softly at first, and then picked up around nine, blurring out the world.

  That evening, I had supper with my mom and sisters—Dad was working late.

  I helped with dishes and put both of my sisters to bed. I was certain I sparked some suspicion, but Mom still hadn’t forgiven me for finding the black book.

  I tried to talk to her, knowing that I’d be leaving tonight, but she disappeared into her bedroom before I could.

  With the house quieting near ten, I’d just have to hope Dad didn’t make it home soon. I doubted it, though. It was Friday. He was always extra late on Fridays. Dark clouds outside had created a haze, and the sharp smell of ozone promised a long night. As I sat at the kitchen table with the lights out, I hoped Mom would think that I’d gone to bed. My hands clasped tight in front of me, I stopped myself from checking the time on my phone again.

  My raincoat, the Midnight Ruling, and all the essentials waited for me by the back door. I’d hoped we could take things with us to the Demon’s Grave. Aidan was bringing a first aid kit, flashlight, pocket knives, and a few random items.

  Hail struck the window, drawing my attention from my thoughts.

  A sense of dread began to ooze to the surfac
e, and I did my best to numb it.

  Gripping my cell phone tight enough to feel the edges pressing into bone, I eased out of my chair and crept to the back hallway. I looked out into the dark backyard, searching for headlights that weren’t there.

  Not wanting to sit any longer, I slipped into the raincoat. Every crinkle made me pause, making the entire act painstakingly meticulous.

  I could feel Dad’s old Swiss Army knife weighing down my left pocket. I knew he wouldn’t miss it, and I realized I wanted to take something of my family. I wanted a reminder of them. The thought, I realized, seemed so final.

  I stuffed the twinge down with the dread and doubt, and looked myself over.

  Beneath the crinkly raincoat, I wore a shirt, hoodie, and jeans. I knew jeans would be bad once they were soaked, but they’d provide more protection in the Grave.

  My phone vibrated, and I could see headlights moving in the back alley.

  Here goes nothing.

  I snatched my umbrella from the wall and felt the rising jitters, making me feel nauseated. Under my breath, I whispered, hearing Phoebe’s voice in my head, “Keep it together, Fuller.”

  Twisting the knob, I stepped into the brisk air, closing and locking the door behind me.

  A motion-sensor light was near the back door, and I had to be careful as I sidled against the edge of the house. I didn’t dare open my umbrella until I reached the fence.

  I moved, planning my next step instead of thinking of what would happen once I’d left the yard.

  The raindrops were huge and cold, splattering on impact and then chilled by the wind.

  I paused, searching for any signs of life in the kitchen window or the patio doors leading to the living room. My heart was jackhammering at the idea of being caught. If I were caught, I’d have to run. If I ran, they’d call the police, and it would just snowball from there.

  In my distraction, I must have stepped just within the motion sensor’s radar.

  The flash of light flooded the backyard, blinding me.

  Panic knocked into me hard, and I scrambled for the fence. If it weren’t for the downpour, someone would have heard the crash as I ran into it.

  Fumbling for the latch with freezing, stiff fingers, I flipped it up several times to get it to open. How the hell did I survive the Demon’s Grave? On the fourth try, the latch opened, and I staggered into the alley, not daring to look back. If I saw a light on or the hint of a face looking out, the nausea would win.

  I shut the fence behind me unceremoniously, and it clanged shut, the latch knocking back in place.

  The station wagon idled beside me, and I ducked inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Shutting the door, I looked to my partner.

  Warmth tingled my cheeks and fingers; the heaters were cranked on account of the rain.

  Aidan gave me a grim smile, and I returned it. He held out the red silken envelope with the word elfelejt written within.

  I raised my eyebrows, and he shrugged.

  Maybe we’d put all the pieces together once we were in the Grave.

  Our ride out of the city and to the cemetery was a silent one. Instead of speaking, we gripped each other’s nervous, slick hands, squeezing now and then as if the reassurance could be transferred. Instead, I think we intensified the nervous energy as we drove through the cemetery’s wrought-iron gates. Despite having a gate, I never remembered them being closed during any of our visits when I was younger.

  Lamps made the wet grass and most of the tombstones glitter as we passed.

  I glanced behind to make sure no one was following. All around us, the world looked dark. The highway had the odd vehicle passing, but none slowed, and water sprayed everywhere.

  Stopping the car, Aidan shut off the engine and plunged us into darkness. The nearest lamp was far away enough to hide the car in the shadows.

  The rain and hail pelted the tin roof above, sounding volcanic. I cleared my throat to see if my own voice would be drowned, but it wasn’t.

  Aidan motioned to the umbrella at my feet. “Good idea,” I said. “We can use it as a weapon when we get in too.”

  “And here.” He reached behind his seat and passed me an empty margarine container.

  At my confusion, he motioned to the cemetery. “To carry the mud. I don’t think we’ll need very much.”

  “You thought of everything.” I looked down at the container.

  “Well, almost,” he said. “I don’t have a shovel.”

  With that, he flung open the car door, initiating the hunt for a small tombstone.

  Before I could think about it, I shouldered open my door and snapped open the umbrella, which was large enough to fit us both beneath. I hurried to Aidan’s side and shoved the red envelope in my back pocket.

  Together, we gripped the handle and quickened our steps between the rows of tombstones.

  I noticed Aidan was careful not to step on a grave. If I drew too close, he’d tug the umbrella and veer me away. I wanted to ask if he was superstitious but decided against it. Silence was comfortable right now. I’d rather that than a discussion on what was next.

  My soaked sneakers had stiffened my toes with a chill by the time we reached the flat, shiny plate in the ground.

  No flowers, solar lights, or gifts decorated the edges. One might’ve thought she’d been forgotten.

  Neive Eleanor Fuller

  Taken too soon.

  I frowned. I wasn’t allowed to attend the official funeral but had visited once a year until I’d reached high school. Mom still came here, usually alone.

  The thought of her still being mad at me made my heart twist.

  Aidan dropped to his haunches, forcing me to follow.

  I reached into my pocket for the Swiss Army Knife and used it to cut away at the grass until dirt blackened the blade. The rain made it easy to dig.

  It may seem strange, but sinking my fingers into the moist ground gave me the creeps. I consciously knew that there was no body beneath my feet, but that didn’t stop my imagination. Dirt lodged beneath my nails, filling them, and I thought of worms.

  Cursing my imagination, I scooped out the first pitiful handful and dropped it into the container. I’d managed two handfuls when Aidan patted my shoulder. I looked up to see him squinting in the direction of the car. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw headlights. The slow vehicle illuminated the station wagon. I knew we couldn’t be seen way out here, but I wondered if we’d been followed after all.

  The vehicle didn’t stop; it drove around Aidan’s car, and we both breathed, shoulders dropping at the same time.

  “Let’s go,” I said, barely audible over the rain.

  Aidan nodded.

  Glancing at the letters on the plate one last time, I felt the urge to apologize. Not that there was anything to apologize for. It was an empty grave. It wasn’t her, just her name.

  Wiping my hand on the wet grass, I freed most of the larger chunks of muck but gained grass clippings instead. Oh well, it wasn’t like I needed clean hands anyway.

  Together we exited the cemetery as quickly as our soaked feet would carry us.

  Dropping into the car, I could feel water squish between my toes and wiped my dirty hand on my jeans.

  Aidan started the car and glanced at the container and me before putting the car in drive.

  During those long fifteen minutes, we kept to our silence. My chilled hands were drying and becoming gritty, but Aidan reached over and held one anyway. It was a comfort I couldn’t afford to lose, and I squeezed his hand. Still we didn’t speak, our thoughts readying us.

  We drove to the perfect place when it came to privacy. It was just south of Aidan’s grandpa’s house and off the highway. Aidan had said that the car wouldn’t be far once we came back with our friends. I was happy he said when and not if.

  The clearing was oval. Aidan had said it was a camping spot once. He and his folks used it whenever they were around for the summer. It didn’t appear as if they’d bee
n camping for a long time. The overgrown grass disguised any sign of a fire pit, and hopeful saplings sprouted to fill the space.

  Wading through the tall grass, gripping our shared umbrella, we stopped in mid-step as thunder vibrated the air around us and lightening cracked across the sky. For an instant, the night was as clear as day.

  Fortunately, the hail had stopped, but the wind had picked up. It ripped through my clothes, making my skin numb and bones stiff.

  Aidan dropped the backpack of supplies on the ground and checked his cell phone to count down the seconds to midnight.

  He appeared much calmer than I felt. I hopped from foot to foot, adjusting my grip on the black book and checking my raincoat pocket for the hundredth time to make sure the Swiss army knife hadn’t run off.

  I listened to the rain instead of my thoughts, which was harder than you’d think.

  “Now,” Aidan said gravely.

  Our eyes met in a silent exchange. Be strong, no doubts, we were in this together. In that moment, I wanted to kiss him, just once before all this could change, but I pulled out the pocketknife instead.

  Kneeling together in the wet grass, Aidan and I faced each other. He held his large umbrella over us with one hand and the dirty margarine container in the other. I opened the black book with shaky, cold fingers that were getting harder to bend and cleared my throat. “Here goes,” I warned him.

  I placed my hand between our knees. “Earth.”

  Aidan mimicked me, dropping the umbrella as I said, “I give you mud from a bodiless grave.” The book just said ingredient one, so I assumed in Nell’s time it meant Neive; for us, it was much simpler. Neive, according to the book, would allow access to the demon while our version could have us sucked into the Grave.

  Aidan took the margarine container and sprinkled it over our hands. It was even colder against my skin, and I thought of worms again.

  Tossing the container to the side, Aidan plucked a strand of my hair from my head.