“I do what I must when I want to be first.” Professor M drew his hands out of his blanket. “Birthday hug?”
“Birthday hug,” Cat agreed. Wondering if he had also been tasting Granny Lupe’s sherry, she put her arms around him and squeezed. He smelled like peppermint soap and wool and something garlic from dinner. He might look frail, but his shoulders felt strong. He felt like Dad.
Baldomero said, “Ah! Nothing’s finer than a family’s love.”
Professor M let go of Cat, put his hands back under the blanket, and looked at the clock. “Nearly midnight.”
Baldomero turned to Ysabel. “You brought something to toast the birthday girl?”
Ysabel reached into her long coat, drew out a murky bottle of wine, and showed the faded label to Professor M. “If you agree.”
He squinted at it. “Was that a good century?” Baldomero grinned. “For our miracle? You may be sure, Professor.” Professor M told Cat, “Your call, birthday girl.” She wanted to know what he wanted her to do, but his expression never changed. She looked at Baldomero, Ysabel, and Granny Lupe, and saw how hopefully they smiled. Cat said, “I’d like that.”
Professor M shrugged, or maybe he shivered. Cat heard the cork pop and looked at the bottle in Ysabel’s hand.
Granny Lupe took wineglasses from the table and held one out. The wine was so dark that Cat saw it as black, not red. It smelled of something she didn’t know, something that must be grapes and iron and the minerals of the earth.
The first glass was only a quarter full when Granny Lupe offered it to Professor M. Baldomero said, “Father of all our hope, will you do us this honor?”
The professor looked at Cat, then held out his left hand, took the glass, swirled it, sniffed it, and drained it in a swallow. He sat still while everyone watched. After a long moment, he nodded. “I’ve had worse.”
Granny Lupe laughed and filled the glasses. Cat studied hers. “What if I don’t like it?”
Baldomero said, “Then we’ll know you’re not your mother’s daughter. And since I know you are—”
The clock struck.
Professor M’s head snapped toward it, then toward Cat. The de la Sombras smiled as if they were at a comedy, but Professor M was watching a different show. As the clock counted twelve, Cat felt happier for herself and sadder for her father. Books and movies told her what he must be feeling. His girl was becoming a woman. Soon she would be gone, and he would be alone in Casa Medianoche. As the bells continued to ring, she thought, First chance I get, I promise him he’ll never lose me.
The twelfth stroke of midnight hung in the air, then died. In that instant of silence, Cat heard her father sigh in relief. She thought, I’m totally fourteen. Whatever that means.
Baldomero raised his glass. “Let’s each toast our princess and drink. As the one toasted, Catalina, you have to sit there and be embarrassed until we’re done. Then you may speak what’s in your heart and drink.” He nodded, almost bowing, then hesitated, prolonging the moment that his and Cat’s eyes met. She was so content that when he spoke, his voice surprised her. “To Catalina Milagros Medianoche, the hope of all de la Sombras.” He drank, then turned to Granny Lupe.
Granny Lupe said, “To my fierce Catalina, a great terror and a greater delight. May many lovers suffer great torment for you, and may all your foes know the full extent of their error.” She drank, then looked at Ysabel.
Ysabel said, “To La Bella Catalina. Dance through ten million nights.” She drank, then looked back at Baldomero.
He said, “And now—”
“My turn,” said Professor M. Baldomero blinked, then said, “Of course.” Professor M raised his glass. “To Cat. Always trust yourself. And know that all I’ve done since I first held you was for you. That’ll always be the greatest privilege of my life.”
Cat felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Dad—” Baldomero said, “Make it a toast!” Cat held up her glass. “To my family, the best in the universe. And my dad who, well, who was always there when I needed him, and who, uh, should know that I’ll always be there if he needs me.”
She thought she saw tears in Professor M’s eyes. She wanted to hug him, and she might have, but Baldomero said, “Now drink!”
With a sheepish smile, Cat raised the glass to the de la Sombras, then to her father, then drank.
The wine passing her lips was sour. She wanted to spit it out, but how could she do that in the parlor?
The taste changed on her tongue. Not sour. Bitter? No. Tart. Deliciously tart. She had not realized how thirsty she was. She tipped the glass back, taking it all in one long, delightful drink. She felt it dribbling from the corners of her lips, but why would anyone want to stop drinking until it was gone?
As the last drops slid into her mouth, Baldomero said, “Your clock is fast, Professor. This is midnight.” Cat dropped the glass and heard it shatter. She didn’t care about a glass. She cared about wine. The front of her mouth tingled deliciously. She smiled, licked her lips for a last taste, and looked around for more to drink.
The de la Sombras smiled at her, just as they had when the clock first struck.
Her father stared at her in horror.
The room swayed and darkened. Cat reeled, but a strong hand caught her. Baldomero said, “Easy, your highness.”
Cat straightened up, feeling awake and strong and wonderful. She had never noticed how every subtle scent and sound told a story. She had never noticed how sharp her teeth were.
Someone in the room was afraid. Someone in the room was moving a cloth made of wool.
She turned and said, “Dad?”
He was lifting something long and gray from under his blanket, a pistol like a flare gun that made a sound like a balloon exploding. A long, pointed bolt of wood shot from it.
Toward her heart.
Chapter Five:
The End of the Party
Two Cats saw death coming. One stared in confusion as her father shot something at her. The other marveled at the bright beauty of the first and last moment of her life: The wooden bolt, as long as her forearm, as thick as her wrist, its barbed head, its flared fins. The professor’s grim scowl. Baldomero’s surprise. Granny Lupe’s fear. Ysabel’s confusion. Dust motes shimmering in the electric light. The peppermint and salt smell of the professor’s soap and sweat. The slight, tart scent of the de la Sombras. The tang of garlic wreaths in the upstairs hall. The cool, dry touch of the night air. The cobweb-light embrace of her Halloween dress. The comforting warmth of her hoodie.
The first Cat thought, Not happening! Can’t be happening.
The second Cat thought, Stupid old self, I should snuff you now so I’ll be perfect when I die. No. Let Evil Dad kill you along with me. The death of the old Cat will be his price for killing the new one.
As the sharp tip of the bolt touched her chest, a slender hand caught it by the shaft. Both Cats gasped in surprise. Granny Lupe, grimacing, held the bolt firm. Its tail fins raised dots of blood at the heel of her hand. She whirled and flung the bolt at the professor, as fast as he had fired it.
The first Cat shouted, “No!” Did she mean for Granny Lupe to stop or for none of this to happen?
The second Cat kept silent. The professor was a lone human. Her true family could deal with him.
Professor M dropped the pistol and pressed his armrest. His chair shot backward several feet, and the bolt whistled past his shoulder.
The first Cat thought, Thank God!
The second thought, He never told me what his chair could do. What else did he hide?
Ysabel leaped across the parlor, her hands curved like claws, her mouth wide in fury. Professor M yanked his arm rests. Two thick arrows like crossbow quarrels shot from the chair. One pierced Ysabel’s hip, and she fell. The other flew at Cat’s waist.
The quarrel slowed as she watched it come. The air grew thicker. The first Cat knew no one was near enough to save her. The second remembered how Granny Lupe had caught the bolt.
Cat twisted sideways. The quarrel tore through the front of her hoodie, hit the parlor’s wainscoting, and stuck, vibrating in slow motion. The first Cat wanted to scream and hide. The second wanted to attack the threat to her life.
Granny Lupe caught Cat’s arm in her strong hand and shoved her behind her, saying, “Stay safe!” But Cat leaned out to watch Baldomero charge the professor. Both Cats needed to know what would happen, and what she should do, and what she was now.
Her father crossed his arms overhead to grip the back of his wheelchair. As he brought his hands down, two slender swords whisked from the chair’s frame. One plunged into Baldomero’s chest.
Before Cat could cry out, she saw two impossible things. Though Baldomero was pierced by the sword, he leaned into her father’s blade, giving a pained grin as he reached for Professor M’s throat. And Ysabel was wincing as she yanked the quarrel from her hip.
The professor slashed his left-hand sword at Baldomero’s neck. Baldomero skipped back, almost lazily. The blade whisked just below his chin. Blood stained the sword and Baldomero’s jacket.
The first Cat thought, Dad will die! The second thought, Good. The horror of the first Cat won. She looked down and thought, Not happening, not happening, not happening!
Granny Lupe said gently, “Watch. And learn.”
“Please,” Cat whispered, unable to think of what she wanted or what might happen or what might be best.
The second Cat thought, Of course I should watch. Once I learn everything, I can do anything.
So she looked up.
Her father’s attempts to cut Baldomero had brought him into the middle of the parlor. Baldomero and Ysabel dodged his blades as if they were dancing, and they laughed at their skill or his.
Baldomero said, “Ask for mercy, Professor.” Ysabel said, “He tried to kill our Miracle!” Baldomero said, “Did I say we would give it?”
“Surrender, Professor,” Granny Lupe said. “You can’t escape.” Professor M nodded. “Bait doesn’t escape.”
Two steel grates dropped from the ceiling, one blocking the door to the hall, one blocking the window. In front of each, a ceiling panel flapped down. From each, a rifle with a barrel as wide as the bolt pistol fired into the room.
Granny Lupe fell over Cat, knocking her to the floor. The bolt aimed at Cat pierced Granny Lupe’s back with a sickening thud. Cat lay still, half-covered by her grandmother’s limp body. The first Cat wanted to hide and needed to scream. The second thought, Play dead. The chance to strike back will come.
She opened her eyes into slits. Baldomero struggled to stand with a bolt buried high in the right side of his chest. Granny Lupe stayed motionless on top of Cat. Ysabel lay sprawled on the rug, bright blood glistening on her red coat around the bolt in her heart. She took a rattling breath, then fell silent.
The first Cat thought, I have to save someone! The second thought, Yes. Me. The professor dropped his swords and reached for a bolt rifle tossed down by a bald man dressed in brown: a safari jacket, cargo pants, and hiking boots. Cat knew his smell before she saw his face.
Uncle Olujimi, with a bolt rifle in both hands and a machete sheathed at his side, dropped into the parlor as Auntie Fong, in a black jacket with a hood over her white hair, stayed on the floor above. Her rifle covered them all.
The first Cat thought, It’s a bad joke for my birthday. Fake blood. Toy weapons. Right?
The second Cat thought, Why couldn’t I smell them? Ah. The garlic wreaths upstairs. The professor planned this years ago. Why didn’t I see the Medianoches are monsters?
As Olujimi snapped his rifle butt to his shoulder and aimed at Baldomero’s heart, Auntie Fong aimed at Granny Lupe’s back, and Professor M aimed at Cat’s throat.
She stared into the enormous, dark barrel. His finger tightened on the trigger. She thought, No! I must live! They’re evil!
Then a voice, a sweet murmur, as though the speaker wanted to wake a sleeper gently, filled the parlor. “Valentin. Fong Shu. Olujimi Udofia.”
The first Cat thought, Who’s that? The second thought, Salvation. The three attackers kept their aim at their targets. Olujimi said,
“Who?” Auntie Fong shouted, “Shoot them!” Her hand trembled wildly, but her rifle didn’t fire. The professor’s finger rested against his trigger. He said in a voice neither Cat could recognize, “Zora?” The whispering voice came again, a little louder. “You know we’re not your enemies.” Olujimi said hesitantly, “It’s a trick.”
Auntie Fong cried, “Fire! Now! Kill them!” Professor M said softly, “It can’t be you.” The weight of Granny Lupe’s body was lifted from Cat so easily that
Lupe seemed to float into the air. But when Cat looked up, she saw someone taller than Granny Lupe, almost as tall as Baldomero, someone whose skin was as smooth and brown as Cat’s, and whose hair was as dark as a panther’s. Her long black dress wasn’t Granny Lupe’s shapeless cotton. It was silk, a sheath of smoke. She looked at Professor M and smiled.
The first Cat thought she had never seen anyone so terrifying. The second knew she had never seen anyone so beautiful. The first thought, Impossible. The second thought, Mama.
Her father twitched like a man falling in a dream. His rifle swung from Cat to Zoraida de la Sombra and fired.
Zoraida turned casually to let the bolt pass. As she did, Baldomero sprang. His right arm hung limp at his side, but he swatted aside Olujimi’s rifle with his left and closed that hand around Olujimi’s throat, lifting him onto the tips of his toes. As Olujimi gasped for air, Baldomero told Professor M and Auntie Fong, “He lives until you act.”
Olujimi clawed at Baldomero’s fingers. Though Baldomero’s face was ashen and grim, and blood seeped from the bolt in his chest, his grip did not open and his arm was as still and as strong as a statue’s.
Professor M said, “Understood.”
Looking at Zoraida and Baldomero, the first Cat thought, What are they?
The second thought, What are we?
Auntie Fong still aimed down at them from the ceiling. Her finger still twitched furiously, but it would not close on the trigger. Zoraida looked up and said lightly, “Drop the weapon.”
Auntie Fong swung her sights to Zoraida’s heart. “No.”
“Now.” Auntie Fong’s hand quivered, and her eyes flicked wide. Then her hand steadied, and her eyes narrowed. “You can keep us from attacking you. You can’t stop us from defending ourselves. If I believe any of us will die, I know I can shoot.”
Zoraida laughed. “Who fears what they can see and avoid?” Auntie Fong said, “Let me shoot now, if you’re so sure.” Zoraida shrugged. “Even if you get off a shot, you’ll watch your family die.” The first Cat thought, No! The second thought, Yes. End their threat.
Olujimi gasped, “Fong Shu! Forget us!”
Baldomero whispered, “Hush, Olujimi of the Udofias. Never hurry death.”
Auntie Fong told Zoraida, “Let them go. Then your family may leave.”
“Not all of us.” Zoraida said, looking away. Cat followed her gaze. Ysabel’s blood had stopped flowing. Her skin was like parchment. Both Cats thought, She can’t be dead! Not Tia Ysabel!
As Baldomero looked at Ysabel’s body, his face contorted. He leaned forward as if he would fall to his knees. Then his lips and eyelids narrowed. He drew himself straight and told Zoraida, “They must die. They’ll just kill and kill until—”
Auntie Fong pointed the rifle at Cat. “Wait!” Zoraida shouted. The first Cat thought, Why are Dad’s family so afraid of me? The second answered, Because they’re wise. Cat said, “Please, Auntie Fong! I thought you loved me!” Auntie Fong shook her head. “I loved a girl who died at midnight.” Zoraida told Auntie Fong, “We had a truce for fourteen years. Let it last until dawn.”
“Why should I trust you?” Professor M said, “Because she loves her daughter.” Zoraida glanced at him, then said, “I thank you for that much.” He added, “In her cruel, twisted—”
“You never did know w
hen to stop.”
“Explains why I married you.” Zoraida raised an eyebrow. “Before I met you, I thought nothing of humans. Afterward, I thought even less.”
“Because you’re a waking nightmare that only a fool could—” Auntie Fong said, “Val? Is there any point—” He slumped in his chair. “Is there ever?” The first Cat thought, Dad’s suffering. The second thought, Not enough. Olujimi, gasping in Baldomero’s grip, said, “What do we get? If we let you go?” Baldomero said, “Another day to dream of destroying us. What could be sweeter to your kind?” Auntie Fong nodded. “Truce. Until dawn.” Baldomero looked at Ysabel, then Cat, and said softly, “Agreed.” Something smelled bad in the room, worse than curdled milk and rotting eggs. Cat knew where it must come from. The first Cat thought, Tia Ysabel’s really dead. She won’t dance again. The second thought, Old Cat, you’re stupid and boring and useless.
Since Evil Dad didn’t kill you, I will. Die now.
Silence told her she had succeeded.
Baldomero lowered Olujimi until his feet were flat on the floor, then released his neck. Olujimi rubbed the outline of fingers on his throat and rasped, “Hope to return the favor soon.”
A thin smile flickered across Baldomero’s lips. Then he kicked the swords, rifles, and bolt pistol to the far corner of the room and strode to Ysabel’s body. Starting to stoop, he winced and glanced at the bolt in his chest. He inhaled deeply, grabbed the bolt by its fins, wrenched it free, and screamed.
Professor M said, “The neighbors will wonder about our parties.”
Zoraida said, “Some people get carried away on Halloween. I’m sure you can explain if the police stop by.”
Baldomero snapped the glistening shaft in half and dropped the pieces with the other weapons. His jacket and shirt were torn and bloody, but the cloth hid what the bolt had done to him. He knelt by Ysabel and stroked her hair.
Zoraida said, “Here’s how it’s done, nephew.” She reached behind herself and ripped the bolt from her back without making a sound. Sweat sprang from her forehead and cheeks. Cat smelled the stink of her mother’s pain and hated her father’s family even more.
Midnight Girl Page 6