The Midnight Order

by Christopher Fulbright

  Eleanor Masterson sat on the long divan, hands folded in her lap, her silver hair tied neatly into a bun at the back of her head, a knit shawl over her shoulders. She stood at Nikki’s appearance. Everyone else remained silent. The mysterious man put one foot on the hearth and poked the fire with an iron.

  “My dear,” Eleanor said, ever the kind and gentle hostess. “Can I get you something to drink in the dining hall?”

  Nikki looked around at the mysterious gathering.

  Dr. Falkenstein nodded at her and gave a strained smile.

  Isaac and the young man just stared.

  “Yes,” Nikki said, giving them all the eye. Bunch of freaks. How the hell did I get talked into this? But she remembered. She remembered all too well. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  Eleanor hurried to her side and hooked her arm into Nikki’s. Nikki didn’t bother to hide her curiosity at the men’s behavior. They stared at her as she left, and she stared right back at them until Eleanor led her into a long dining hall, asked her to wait a moment, and then returned with a pitcher of iced tea.

  “Please sit,” Eleanor said. She poured some tea, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass. The dining hall had a massive table with enough room for twenty people, but all the chairs were currently empty. Taking a seat near the end of the table made her feel small. Eleanor sat in the chair next to her and smiled. Nikki caught a whiff of her perfume. It smelled like a hint of flowers in spring. “Are you feeling okay? Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “I was hoping for a shower, but I guess a bath would do.”

  “We do have shower facilities. I have one in my chamber. If you’d like to use it, I’d be happy to share, dear.”

  Nikki breathed easier. The thought of taking a bath in this place set her a little on edge.

  Nikki smiled at her. “Thank you.” She took a drink and looked around the dining hall. On one wall was a giant portrait of an old man with intense eyes and a full beard. If the painting could be trusted, he’d been a handsome but fierce-looking man. Nikki set down her glass and nodded at the painting. “Someone important, I take it.”

  Eleanor looked up at the painting. She smiled. “Ah yes, that would be my great-grandfather Masterson, the man I told you of when you arrived, the one responsible for the construction of this castle. A handsome man, yes?”

  Nikki had to agree he was handsome. And she had a handful of questions about the nature of that thing downstairs, but first…

  “How is Adam? When I was helped back up to my room, I thought I heard, well, something like an animal. He’d just gone into the room with the…thing.” Nikki took a careful drink and studied Eleanor as she answered.

  “Ah. Some folks experience strange aftereffects. I’m not sure what you heard, but I assure you Mr. Ross is doing well. He’s sleeping in his room and will be ready to leave with the rest of you in a few days.” Miss Masterson poured herself a glass of tea and didn’t meet Nikki’s gaze until she was ready to set it down. Her hands shook the slightest bit. “Would you like to take that shower now?”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  They left the dining room and passed through the parlor.

  All of the men were gone.

  8

  Later that night, showered and refreshed, Nikki lay awake in her room. The gray walls darkened with the onset of night. The musty scents of the old castle lay heavy in the room.

  She heard shifting.

  Part of her was deathly afraid of that sound. The image of her baby, that awful twisted purpled version of her unborn child, came immediately to mind.

  She stared up at the gossamer canopy. It stirred, swaying ever so slightly. Her throat was swollen shut.

  She heard the sound again.

  Nikki sat up slowly. Her chest was tight, skin crawling across the back of her skull at the thought of seeing the child again.

  No, she told herself, it was a hallucination, an illusion, a part of withdrawal. The onset of delirium tremens.

  None of that kept her from being afraid as she sat up on the canopy bed in the castle chamber and looked around. One of the heavy curtains near the window stirred with a gust of wind beyond the window. She listened, heart thrumming, to make sure that was all she’d heard.

  It was. She watched the curtain. It swayed and rustled.

  She released her breath, but only the slightest bit.

  She couldn’t sleep. No way.

  Nikki swung her legs out from under the covers and stood. She knew what Eleanor told her about Adam, but curiosity was eating at her and she didn’t want to be alone.

  She opened her chamber door. Looking out into the wide stone hall, the soft glow of lantern light gave enough illumination to see two doors down, where Adam’s room was supposed to be. There was a door across from hers set into the wall, and another not too far from hers next door. Since hers was the first room at the end of the hall this side of the stairs—she recalled him telling her his room was two doors down—she had a decent guess at which one was his.

  Nikki looked both ways, paused to listen, and then stepped into the hall. The cold of the stones soaked through her socks as she went to his door and pressed her ear against it.

  She couldn’t hear anything.

  “Adam?” she said quietly.

  From inside, she heard a faint groan. She tried the lever. The latch opened.

  She pushed open the door on creaking hinges and stepped inside.

  Adam’s room was dark and smelled like an animal’s cage. She could see his bed—the whole chamber’s arrangement was opposite hers—where he lay in an angle of shadow away from the door.

  “Adam?” she whispered again. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his face as he turned it toward her—his eye sockets were completely dark, making his face appear like a skull. His pale skin was so white it almost shone with luminescence. As he rolled over in bed, pulling the rustling covers with him, she could see his arms seemed skinny now, his torso likewise white and emaciated. “My god, what happened?”

  But as she rushed to his side, she knew what had happened. He’d been through the same thing she had. It appeared to have done him quite a bit worse than it had done her.

  Near the bedside, that strange animalistic odor was stronger, a cross between the musky scent of a zoo cage and a men’s locker room. It didn’t faze her. On the bedside table was an oil lamp. She turned the knob to extend the wick and ignited it with a flaring match. The lamp glowed to life, illuminating the visage of Adam Ross.

  The man that lay on the bed bore scant resemblance to the man she’d inwardly swooned for but treated so coldly on the ferry yesterday. His facial features were gaunt, only vaguely recognizable as those of the man she’d seen downstairs just hours ago. His eyes were dilated, skin pale and greasy with sweat, eyes swallowed up in purpled sockets. Dark hair fell in wet locks over his forehead. He’d pulled the covers down to expose his torso. His arms were noticeably thinner, like those of an old man, and his torso had lost all definition. She could see his rib cage.

  On the dry sink was a large porcelain bowl of water and a pile of clean towels. She brought them all to the bedside, moving the lantern so she could sit on the edge of his bed and reach him.

  “Nikki,” he gasped. “What…what are you doing?”

  “You look like shit,” she whispered.

  He tried to laugh and it came out as a cough. “And I feel worse.”

  She wrung cool water out of a towel and placed it on his forehead. His face relaxed, eyes closed for just a moment as he breathed with relief.

  Nikki’s robe had slipped open. Her nightgown was short and most of her bare leg was folded up on the edge of the bed near him. She noticed it and recognized immediately the absence of her urge to be touched, to take things further. Had she really been cured by her experience downstairs? Or was the fact that Adam looked like a boiled skeleton not doing anything for her? More evidence the “treatment” may have been a success was her complete abs
ence of a desire to drink. It just wasn’t there. So if it worked for her…

  Then what the hell happened to him?

  Adam opened his eyes and looked up at her gratefully. He tried to sit up. She helped prop some pillows behind him so he could be in a better position. He caught sight of her leg. Years of promiscuity meant she failed to cover up, and she supposed he might have caught sight of a good bit more than that. She didn’t bother to adjust.

  “Hell of a time to be stripped of my masculinity,” Adam said. His voice was weak, but he managed a smile.

  “If that’s a pick-up line, it’s the first time I’ve heard that one.”

  “I suppose you’ve heard a lot of them.”

  “You could say that.”

  He tried to sit up farther, pushing himself up on his arms. Adam winced with pain, a small cry of agony coming unbidden from between his lips. He cursed.

  “Easy now,” she said.

  Adam lay back, at rest. The lantern glowed over his features. He took the cool cloth from her. Their fingers brushed in passing. She folded her hands in her lap and pulled the flap of robe over her leg. There wasn’t any sense tormenting the man. He wasn’t in any shape for anything, even if she had been in the mood.

  “What do you mean ‘stripped of masculinity’ anyway? What the hell happened to you down there? Last I remember, I was being carried upstairs, then I heard…something.”

  “Yes,” he went on quietly. “That damned old Lakota told me not to come. I guess he was right.” Adam blotted his forehead again. His eyes went to the glowing lamp on his nightstand. Nikki thought she’d never seen a man whose eyes looked truly haunted until now. Dilated as they were, she could almost see the depth inside him, churning with conflict and loss.

  “The who?”

  “The Oglala Lakota chief, White Elk. Before I came here, I tried everything to rid myself of my family’s bane. My journey led me to the Black Hills of South Dakota as a last-ditch effort. They told me I could not be cured, that some men were given to be beasts.” Adam’s grim smile frightened her. He looked sick now, almost crazed. “I saw it as a curse, but he insisted the Great Spirit bestowed it upon me as a gift, and it was an inseparable part of me.”

  “What are you saying? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “I don’t think you’d have believed me yesterday if I told you. But now that we’ve both seen that thing in the catacombs of the castle, I suppose some things seem less strange by comparison.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it. You were kind enough to me yesterday…I was just worried about you,” she said quietly. She reached for his hand in a gesture of support. It was tacky with sweat. He squeezed her hand lightly, perhaps with all the strength he had at the moment, then pulled it away.

  “Tell me about you.”

  She swallowed, then took a deep breath.

  “Nikki Lane. Washed-up adult film star, sex addict, alcoholic, child abuse survivor—although not many people would say what I was doing qualified as surviving.” She didn’t want to talk about her. “Fair enough?”

  Adam’s laugh turned into a cough. “Rare. A woman of few words.”

  “Your turn.”

  “Adam Radoslava by birth, changed my name to Adam Ross as soon as I was legally able. Descendent of Anika Branislava of Serbia. Our family came to the U.S. in the late 1700s, and brought with them a family curse, a medieval Satanic bargain that cursed our ancestors centuries ago…yes, I know it sounds insane. I thought it was bullshit myself, until I hit puberty. And woke up one morning in bed, naked, shredded blankets stained with blood.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I am…part animal.” He gave her a smile as awkward as the moment. “And I’m not saying that to try and impress you.” His levity was forced and she sensed that, impossible as it seemed, he was telling the truth. Or at least what he believed to be the truth.

  “What kind of animal?”

  “Black leopard.” Adam smiled wanly. “Or, I used to be. Until I stepped downstairs and that thing had its way with me.” He gave a harsh bitter laugh. It sounded like the edge of madness. “It certainly took from me my evils, did it not?” Adam held his stick-like arms out like a scarecrow in the bed. “Left a better man?”

  “I’m sorry, I still don’t get it,” Nikki said carefully. Actually, she thought she did get it, but she didn’t want to say it aloud because it sounded absolutely ludicrous. As quickly as she’d opened up to the possibility he was telling her the truth, just as quickly she began to think she was right to doubt this man from the beginning. If he believed what he was saying was true, he might be totally crazy. “You mean you were some kind of…?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I am—was—a Were-cat. A therianthrope, a shapeshifter.” He was still smiling and she didn’t like the look of it. Once again, this whole thing had taken a bad turn. Surrounded by the castle, still able to summon the memory of those awful tentacles wrapped around her bare flesh, her skin crawled. But, true to what Adam suggested, it was the memory of the thing downstairs that made her pause to consider what he was saying might be true.

  “That’s why I came here,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper. He studied his hands. His fingers were long and spindly in his lap. He dropped the rag she’d given him and stared down at it, desolation in his eyes. “I wanted it to end. To kill the evil inside me.” Looking up suddenly, he met her wide eyes. “But it seems that’s all I was, because now that it’s gone, this”—he gestured at his sallow frame—“is all that’s left of me.”

  Nikki’s trepidation melted away at his show of anguish. She’d seen men act all manner of ways and she liked to think she knew a fake when she saw one. Despite what he was saying, he was convinced of it himself. Either way, there was no disputing something had happened to him. Something profound. Something awful.

  “The Lakota said it was a part of me. That it was a blessing to have such a gift, to be able to become such a magnificent creature when the moon shone down on the Earth. He said that it represented my masculinity and without it I would be nothing but a shell.” He gave another harsh laugh that sounded on the verge of a scream. “He never woke up with a severed arm in bed next to him, gnawed to the bone. But he was right about one part, it seems.”

  Nikki didn’t know what to say. She made no move to get up and leave, but she didn’t move closer to him either. Although she sensed that he needed some kind of comfort, she wasn’t sure she could give it.

  “So, what happened to you downstairs? The sounds I heard, the roaring…I thought it was a lion.”

  He looked at her bleakly.

  “That tentacled creature downstairs extracted the ‘evil’ from me, just like it did you and presumably everyone else. Just like they said it would. But I’m guessing they never had a case like mine. That evil came out of me, all right. It came out whole and it got away. I think it killed one of the others. I can’t be sure.”

  His face twisted into a pained, fierce look. Whether the anger was directed at himself, or the situation, or the devil that made him like this, she couldn’t be sure, but it was a pure kind of fury and she could feel its heat. “I would go after it myself, even take it back into me and end it all, if only I weren’t left this…shell of a man.”

  Nikki frowned. “You sound like you’re admitting defeat.”

  Adam’s tragic eyes met hers and she stared at him straight on.

  “So that’s it then,” she said. “The ‘evil’ that left you was all you had left of your balls, and you’re going to roll over and call it a day.”

  Adam stared at her. He raised one brow in amusement and then barked a sick laugh that left him coughing again. “You’re quite the piece of work.”

  “Usually people say that and don’t mean it as a compliment.”

  “I’m not sure I do either.”

  Nikki stood. “I almost gave up once. Almost let it all slip away.” She was surprised at the sudden emotion that welled up in her. “But I decided I
wasn’t a quitter. I didn’t take you for one either.”

  Outside Adam’s room, they heard yelling. Footsteps hurried beyond the door. A man screamed, stark with horror.

  Then came a monstrous feline roar.

  Nikki stiffened at the sound. Gooseflesh rose over her skin. She stood rigid, the urge to run unheeded only because there was nowhere to go. She looked at Adam Ross.

  He reached up and folded back the covers. He was naked and emaciated. He stood, pulling himself up by the bedpost. Nikki caught her breath so she wouldn’t make an audible gasp. Between his legs where she expected to see his penis was a soft-skinned nub instead, little more than a pink nipple, and no visible testicles.

  His legs were awful, twisted things. They were bowed and hocked like those of a cat…but not entirely feline, either. A terrible mix between human legs and those of a leopard, the bones folded and jagged, with thin, patchy layers of black hair.

  Nikki realized she had clasped her hand over her mouth. She pulled it away now, swallowing the hurt in her throat at the sight of Adam’s mutant lower half. Adam just balanced against the bedpost and looked at the back of the banded wooden door.

  “It’s loose,” he said.

  9

  The screams in the hallway escalated from terror to pain. A man’s voice rose urgently in response to the commotion, then a young woman shrieked. A door slammed.

  Nikki’s breathing was shallow and her mouth was dry. Her pulse redlined.

  Adam limped across his chamber to the dresser and pulled out clothes. He managed to get them halfway on, over his strange human-cat legs, but struggled to complete the task because they didn’t bend quite right. He fell backward, landing with a grunt on the stone floor. Nikki went to him and helped him pull on his pants, careful not to stare at the nub where his penis should have been. She felt him watching her as she did so. She looked up and met his eyes. Then she stood and held out her hands to help him up. He took them, obviously uncomfortable with this…with everything he’d caused, and what he’d become.