2 Minutes to Midnight: Urban Fantasy Midnight Trilogy Book 2

by L. M Hatchell

  “We need to find the demon and get out of here. Now.”

  She came to an abrupt halt, her blood running cold. “What happened?”

  He stopped and shoved his unruly hair back out of his face as he turned to her. “They’ve sent the first Mist.”

  “Oh.”

  Well, that sure took the wind out of her sails.

  Ethan, too, seemed to deflate a little before her as he nodded. “Yeah, big oh. Somehow William found out about my connection to you. He sent my dad a warning out of courtesy. He said he can’t protect me if I insist on being stupid.”

  She blew out a breath and watched it fog in the air in front of her. “Guess we need to get hunting.”

  With time working against them, they started up the hill again in search of their demon. Maura had told them at lunch that there’d been even more animals killed the night before. In a hushed voice she’d informed them that the farm owners, Seamus and Betty, had obviously annoyed the fair folk since the trail of dead animals led straight from their farm to the fairy ring.

  Despite how ludicrous her logic was, Phoenix and Ethan both agreed it was as good a place as any to start their search. With any luck, they’d pick up a scent Ethan could follow.

  “Your uncle didn’t by any chance give you some idea how you might survive one of these Mists?”

  Ethan grimaced. “You don’t survive the Mists. You run.”

  Ah, just the cheery answer she was hoping for.

  She opened her mouth to ask her next question – how long do you keep running for? – but he suddenly tensed and pulled up short.

  Really? Again? Please let it be the bloody demon at least.

  She stood completely still and watched as Ethan tilted his head, jaw clenched in concentration.

  “How sure are you that the ring forts are just a superstition?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

  She raised her eyebrows and swivelled her head to survey their surroundings. They’d nearly reached the peak of the hill, and the border of trees on either side were thinning out enough that she could see an open field on the far side, bathed in moonlight.

  “What kind of stupid question is that?”

  She shuddered at the creeping sensation that was working its way up from the base of her spine. Humans had bizarre imaginations; what relevance could a random circle in a field have to the fae?

  “Can’t you feel it?”

  She shook her head, but a whisper of something tingled across the back of her neck. Subtle. Easily missed.

  “There’s magic of some kind here.” Ethan’s eyes searched their surroundings warily.

  “The demon?” she suggested. But she already knew the answer. This didn’t feel like the demon’s energy; it was lacking the taint of evil.

  Instead of answering, Ethan crouched low and stepped through a break in the trees into the field on the other side. She followed his lead, keeping her eyes peeled as they moved towards the raised hill of grass that formed the ring fort.

  Unease tap-danced along her spine, and the feeling was immediately justified when a shadowy form came into view.

  A body lay in the middle of the ring fort, spreadeagled and unmoving. The layer of clear slime that coated it glistened under the light of the moon and made her want another shower.

  “Is that –”

  “The farmer’s wife.” Ethan took a step closer, careful to stay out of reach.

  “It found another host?” She searched the darkness, fully expecting the demon to emerge from the shadows at any second.

  “Not quite,” came a voice as smooth as silk in response.

  The air shimmered before Phoenix’s eyes and she stepped into a defensive stance. Ethan shifted his position so that his back was to hers with his claws extended. Shadows entwined and coalesced, teasing a possible source for the voice, only to disappear and reappear in another location.

  “Shit.” Her heart hammered in her ears.

  Ethan growled low in response.

  “I thought you’d be grateful that I took care of your demon problem.” The voice came again, brushing past her ear in a whisper.

  Her body tensed instinctively at the touch. She forced her breathing to slow, and waited. The shadows swirled in front of her, turning into a black smoke as a form began to solidify. The first thing that struck her were the golden eyes. The next was the heart-stopping smile.

  Should my murderer look that charming? she wondered in a daze.

  The glint of a silver sabre broke whatever spell held her mesmerised and she dived to the side, pulling Ethan with her. The blade sliced so close to her face that she closed her eyes to brace for the pain. When it didn’t come, she leapt to her feet and looked at Ethan in a panic.

  “How do we fight him?” she repeated her earlier question.

  “We don’t.” He grabbed her hand. “We run.”

  He pulled so hard she nearly fell over. She stumbled to get her footing and followed him to the forest in the distance.

  How fast were the Mists? Goddammit, why hadn’t she asked more bloody questions?

  Somehow they reached the trees. Branches scraped her arms and face as she pushed through the dense copse. Shadows moved around her, and the night seemed alive with strange noises that filled her head and caused her sense of direction to become disorientated.

  Her vision blurred, but still she kept running, forcing her instincts to focus only on Ethan’s energy ahead of her.

  “Run all you want,” the silky voice whispered in her ear. “You’re just making it harder on yourself.”

  The tree in front of her burst into flame and she was forced to veer sharply to the left.

  Shit. Where’s Ethan?

  The Mist’s laughter followed her, but the shadows were no longer lapping at her heels. Instead, they swirled leisurely through the trees, weaving a trail of fire that would soon box her in.

  “Ethan,” she yelled, frantically searching the thick block of trees around her.

  “He can’t help you now,” came the reply at her back.

  She turned just in time to see a rueful smile on the charming face of death as the Mist reached a glowing gold fist towards her.

  A loud growl was the only indication she had of Ethan’s whereabouts before a large brown wolf leapt between her and the Mist. The golden fist plunged through the wolf’s chest, and she watched in horror as its whole body went rigid and Ethan’s now yellow eyes widened in shock.

  “No!” she screamed, wrapping her arms tightly around the rough fur, as if that alone could stop the fist from crushing his heart.

  Heat built in her chest as fear for Ethan overwhelmed her. She clenched her eyes closed and gave herself over to the magic. They were dead either way.

  With her chest pressed close to the wolf’s body, she could feel when his heart began to slow. She let all of the fear, all of the anger fill her, and in a flash of blinding white light, she let it go. Once more, the night went black.

  ***

  Daylight flared through Phoenix’s eyelids and pain exploded in her head. She scrunched her eyes tight against the glare. The ground beneath her was hard and unyielding, and every part of her ached.

  Shit. Her eyes flew open and heart leapt into her throat. Where was she?

  Scorched earth filled her immediate eye-line and gnarled trees loomed over her, their barks blackened. She kept completely still even as her heart thundered in her chest.

  Was he still here? The Mist. Was he waiting for her to wake so he could kill her?

  When minutes passed with no sound other than her soft breathing, she glanced carefully around. She was lying in a small clearing surrounded on all sides by trees. The ground under her was little more than charred dirt, devoid of the lush vegetation that covered the rest of the forest. A large lump of brown fur lay at her feet, unmoving. She saw the wolf, but it took her brain a minute to connect the dots.

  Ethan!

  She scrambled to her knees, the memories flooding back: golden eyes, a glowin
g fist, the all-consuming heat of the sun. Her hands trembled as she ran them over the coarse fur, searching for injuries. Please be okay. Please be okay.

  He was still alive. She knew because she could hear the sluggish beat of his heart as it laboured to pump blood around his body. But his breathing was shallow, and he showed no reaction to her touch. There were no burns that she could see. How was that? She was holding him when the sun’s power had exploded from her. He should be dead. They both should be.

  A light breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves, and her heart pounded. She looked around, suddenly aware of the ominous shadows that lurked between the trees.

  What happened to the Mist when she called the sun? Did it kill him, or was he hiding in one of those shadows? A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. They needed to get the hell out of here.

  She climbed to her feet, and with extreme effort, manoeuvred the huge wolf so that she could hoist it over her shoulder. Even with supernatural strength, the weight knocked the wind out of her.

  There was no stealth to her trek back to the B&B, and she could only hope none of the locals saw her or the giant “dog” she was carrying. It was very possible Ethan sustained some bumps to the head along the way, but she figured it’d do him no harm; maybe even knock some sense into him. If he ever woke up.

  The sun was cresting the horizon as she reached the pub and miraculously made it to their room. She lay Ethan on the bed and slumped down beside him, gently running her fingers through the fur at the nape of his neck.

  Why hadn’t he changed back? Or regained consciousness? His body should be healing any damage. She bit her lip.

  On the locker beside her, red numbers flashed on the small alarm clock. A taunting reminder that they were on borrowed time. The Mist would be back. She didn’t know what had happened after the world went black, but her gut was telling her he was alive. They couldn’t afford to be here when he returned.

  Five more minutes, she decided, staring at the blinking numbers. She’d rest for five minutes, and then they had to leave.

  She set about packing their meagre belongings, wrote a brief note of thanks to Maura and looked back to the clock, resigned to her fate. Time to go.

  Getting an unconscious werewolf to the car unnoticed was another feat she hadn’t expected to manage, but it seemed someone up there was taking pity on her. She slid behind the wheel of their car, Ethan resting across the back seat, still in wolf form. Her gaze flicked from him to the small pub, and an icy thread of fear slid through her as she hoped like hell they weren’t leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

  There was complete silence in the chamber as Shayan kneeled before the Council. Deep burns marred his handsome features, vivid red blending into blackened patches of skin. Even from where Darius stood at the edge of the crowd, he could see the defiance blazing in those golden eyes and he shook his head; the boy had a death wish.

  His main focus at that moment wasn’t the Mist, however, but rather the Council. More specifically, William.

  The blood red cloak covering the werewolf didn’t quite conceal the fists clenched at his side, and there was a tightness to his jaw that was perceptible only because Darius was looking so closely.

  He’d seen that same tic the evening before when he’d innocently approached William as a concerned Witness. Of course, the reaction had been preceded by barely concealed shock when Darius mentioned rumours of a particular werewolf being involved with the hybrid.

  “I can’t imagine it was easy for you,” he’d declared solemnly. “To send the Mist knowing it would put your own blood in danger.”

  The flinch had been subtle and just what Darius had hoped for. He needed Phoenix alive at all costs, which meant he needed to exploit any weak link he could find.

  “I appreciate your concern, Witness,” William had growled, “but the Council will do what needs to be done. The first Mist is being dispatched as we speak.”

  Needless to say, that wasn’t the news Darius had been hoping for. He’d contacted his head of security immediately with an instruction to find Phoenix or face the final death. They’d managed to locate her, but by that stage it was dawn and the Witnesses had already been summoned for an update.

  “Tell us again what happened,” William ordered Shayan, his voice a low rumble filled with warning.

  As the Mist once more relayed his encounter, Darius couldn’t help the smirk of satisfaction that lifted the corner of his mouth. Despite all the odds, Phoenix seemed, yet again, to survive on pure blind luck. And to hear that a werewolf got injured during the fight, well, that was just unfortunate.

  “I’ll finish the job. Just get me the next location.” Shayan stood from his kneeling position and faced the Council with his chin held high and shoulders squared.

  “You failed.” William’s brown eyes blazed. “What makes you think we’d give you another chance?”

  “You need the hybrid dead, don’t you?”

  Vlad moved as if to say something, but Méabh placed a hand on his arm and shook her head. She tilted her chin and observed the scene, but her expression gave no indication of her thoughts. Did she know of William’s connection to the injured wolf? Darius couldn’t be sure, but William’s careful choice of words through the proceedings led him to believe not.

  “We need discretion,” William growled. “Something you’ve clearly demonstrated you’re not capable of.”

  Shayan sneered. “Let’s see how discreet I can be when I rip your throat out, wolf.” His body started to turn translucent as shadows danced around him.

  Diana stepped forward and whispered a word that was unintelligible to Darius’s ears, removing the barrier that protected Shayan from his gold bonds. Immediately the Mist dropped to his knees, his body becoming solid as he arched back and screamed.

  Within seconds, he seemed to wither and weaken. He slumped to the floor, his muscles taut from the agonising onslaught of the gold.

  “Stop!” Maj yelled, stepping forward. “Give me the location. I’ll finish this.”

  Darius watched the conflict rage on William’s face. He was counting on the wolf to be the weak link. Would he allow another attack now that he knew about Ethan? The wolf stayed quiet, and beside him, something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction glinted in Méabh’s eyes.

  “All agreed?” Vlad looked at each of the Council members, then nodded to Maj. “Make sure it’s done properly this time.”

  Diana whispered another unintelligible word and Shayan fell silent on the floor. She stepped back in line with the Council and pulled up the hood of her cloak.

  Lily worried at the skin around her thumbnail as she paced the empty training room. Her hand subconsciously reached for her phone again. For the third time in as many minutes, she glanced at the blank screen. It had been forty-eight hours; surely it should be done by now. Why hadn’t they contacted her?

  She clutched her canvas bag to her midsection and fought the urge to scream until her throat was raw. She’d kept the Ouroboros close ever since she’d given Diana the location. Its familiar weight was a small comfort as she counted the minutes until her nightmare was over. One little phone call; that was all she needed.

  “So, how did you get it?” Shade’s voice came from behind, startling her out of her thoughts.

  “What are you talking about?” Her brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of the question. How long had he been there? Had he been watching her?

  He nodded to the bag she held. “The Ouroboros. I’m guessing it’s the same one.”

  Her heart stopped. Icy blue eyes bore into her and she fought the sudden need to fidget.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was calm but her hand jerked involuntarily on the bag, clasping it tighter. She angled her body away from him in a vain attempt to block the bag from sight.

  “Yes, you do. And I can even guess why you have it. But trust me, Lily, there’s no good way to come back from the dead.”

>   Anger flared white hot in her chest, overshadowing the fear and uncertainty. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His laugh held no trace of humour and his voice was bitter when he said, “Oh, don’t I?”

  She shook her head; she wasn’t interested in his lecture. His opinion didn’t matter now anyway.

  “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I don’t have an Ouroboros. Do you really believe I’d be standing here wasting time with you if I could go back and make it all right?” Despite her best efforts, her voice cracked, and something akin to pity flashed across his face.

  “I think you’re a scared young girl who’s gotten in way over her head. And if you’re not careful, there’ll be no way back.”

  Her hackles rose and defiance pulled her shoulders back and made her stand tall. “How about you stay out of my business, Shade.”

  She turned to stalk away, only to find Abi walking towards them, concern creasing her brow. Lily’s breath caught as she scanned the girl’s face for any sign of grief. Shade grew completely still beside her.

  Abi’s gaze flicked warily between them. “Is everything okay?”

  Lily hesitated for a second before looking to Shade, only to find the vampire walking away without giving them another glance.

  Abi placed a hand on her arm and frowned. “Lily, what did he say to you? You’re shaking.”

  “He … he was saying there’s no good way to come back from the dead.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Was he threatening you?”

  She shook her head, but then paused and glanced uncertainly at Abi. She could feel the anger and need to protect radiating off the other girl and a thought flirted at the back of her mind. What was one little lie in the grand scheme of things? One more little sin on her way to hell.

  “He was talking about witches being untrustworthy. That we were too easily corrupted by dark magic or some crap like that. I just pointed out that if it hadn’t been for the vampires …” She shrugged and looked at the ground. “He got pretty mad when I mentioned Darius.”