Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Your wish is my command,” the tall stranger said.

  I felt a blush splash my cheeks, and I had to look down to hide my reaction. My inconvenient response elicited an equally odd one from the stranger. I heard him groan low in his throat. The pitch sounded like longing.

  Frustrated, Jude said, “You heard her. Drop the hood, so we can see your face.”

  The mystery man chuckled. “Only because you asked so nicely, boy.”

  My mind shot straight to the name Pinocchio. I stifled a snicker. What was wrong with me?

  Jude cursed under his breath at being called ‘boy,’ while we both watched and waited for the man in front of us to make the next move. I, for one, was anxious to see the face behind the cover.

  His forearm muscles bulged as he pushed the thin grey fabric back, letting it fall and then bunch at the base of his neck. My God, the man was smoking hot. My stomach began a slow boil as I took inventory of his features. His expression was relaxed, calm. A dimple pinched his chin, striking a chord of familiarity in me.

  The stranger wore jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt underneath the dark grey hoodie. No matter the clothing, the evidence of his muscular build pressed hard against every scrap of material covering it. I had a hard time peeling my eyes from his body. His irises were a deep blue. But as nice as they were, I had a suspicious feeling about them. It was as if the color was somehow wrong, not fitting with the rest of him.

  “Do I know you?” My voice sounded softer than usual.

  His smile broadened. “It’s me, Kris…Rush.”

  The admission was spoken with confidence, the movement of his lips intentional and sure. Yeah, the man was Rush, all right. I kicked myself for not recognizing him sooner, even though he did look completely different. His hair was all but gone, making the dirty blond look darker, almost brown. Blue eyes that seemed off to me were not their original color. Rush was also dressed in a manner that was unbefitting his upper-class status. His face was freshly shaven, leaving it bare.

  I narrowed my eyes. “If that’s the truth, then you’ve just screwed me over.”

  His smile fell.

  “What? Not the reaction you were expecting?”

  “Well, no, I’ve come to help,” Rush shot back.

  The guy had some nerve. The last time we spoke, I’d made it crystal freakin’ clear that his help wasn’t wanted or needed. I didn’t trust him, and the fact that he decided to take it upon himself to show up there all sneaky-like weakened my belief in him even more.

  I stomped across the gravel, swiftly closing the distance between us. Stopping right in front of Rush, I craned my neck way up to make eye contact. After locking onto his savage gaze, my knees wobbled and heat shot through me, hitting me like a steaming locomotive. The pure, unadulterated lust between us almost knocked me to my knees.

  My body wanted him. That fact was obvious, but my mind knew better. He was the top dog, leader of the Council, and a practicing Creator. He had his finger smack dab on the power pulse of a system that I not only disagreed with and held no respect for, but also abhorred. The reminder of whom and what he was hit me like a cold shower. It effectively washed away most of the boiling heat inside me, turning it to steam to fuel my building anger.

  “If you had stopped for only a second to think this stupid plan of yours through, you’d have realized that your help is actually a crippling blow.” My words trickled from my lips in a low rumble. I clenched my jaws and scowled so hard, I probably looked like I was about to pop. “If the kidnapper is watching us now, what do you think will happen to Torra? Just because I couldn’t see through your stupid disguise doesn’t mean he won’t!”

  Rush looked down at his feet, his chiseled features falling into a regretful frown. He knew he’d screwed up. I had an urge to go to him, to soothe his sadness, but the thought was silly and misplaced. I barely knew Rush; we had nothing between us. But yet, I still felt a pull.

  “I’m sorry, Kris. I would never intentionally put Torra, or anyone else you cared for, in danger. I was only trying to help.” He was worried, his hands together, his fingers fumbling. He looked way out of his element. Not used to having to apologize to anyone, maybe? With a strained voice, he asked, “What can I do to fix things?”

  My shoulders relaxed, the aching tension that held my muscles hostage quickly following suit. “I don’t know why, but I believe your intentions were good, and I’m having a hell of a time staying mad at you, which, by the way, is confusing.”

  He flinched, shocked by my switch in attitude. I was surprised by it, too. “Would you like me to leave, then?” he asked.

  “It’s too late now. You might as well join us. If the kidnapper has upped his game because of this, we’ll need your help.”

  He grinned, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “I’ll carry my weight. Count on it.”

  We stared at each other, the same lustful undercurrent making itself known. The attraction, a nuisance I would make a point to ignore.

  “I will.”

  Jude interrupted, “If you two are done with whatever it is you’re doing, we have to go. The clock is ticking.”

  “By the way,” Rush said, pointing at Jude, “mind telling me why your ghost-boy isn’t a ghost anymore?”

  I looked down at my watch; it was nearing midnight. I twirled around and stomped over to the gun. I still couldn’t believe I’d dropped the thing. I had to be more careful in the future. Swiping it up, I stuffed the gun back inside my waistband. “We have twenty minutes to make it to the final location on the map, which means I’ll have to try and explain all that magical mumbo-jumbo to you later.”

  “Here, let me see that.”

  I walked back over to him and handed him the map.

  “I know exactly where this leads to,” he said.

  Jude said, “Good, then we’ll follow you.”

  “Sounds like a plan, but just so you know,” Rush said taking the lead, “this map takes us straight to the Necromancer Center.”

  I threw my hands up. “Of course, it does.”

  Chapter Nine

  Slowing our jog down to a fast-paced walk, Jude, Rush, and I crested a small hill which rolled alongside a backdrop of dark night, the wide expanse of darkness bursting with stars. It was tantalizing to my senses and easy to feel at home underneath.

  Rush flashed me an endearing grin, giving wind to the butterfly wings in my stomach. Whoa, girl.

  “We’re here. Where to next?” he asked.

  I tore my eyes from his smile and the dimple in his chin before looking over towards the trees. “We go there,” I said.

  Rush followed the direction of my gaze. His jaw clenched, that sexy smile of his vanished, and his brows drew together. “That’s a highly restricted area.”

  I pulled the map from my pocket and tapped the trees drawn at our location. “See, that’s where it says to go. So guess what. We’re going. You said you’d help, so now would be a great time to prove it.”

  Good girl, I thought. No matter how scrumptiously mouthwatering his ass was, I was intent on keeping to my new motto, “sister before mister.”

  I could tell Rush was struggling with it; his promise to me was at odds with the position he held as a Council member. The Council had a million secrets, and they would do anything to keep them. I’d imagine, even kill anyone who trespassed against them. I was asking a lot from Rush, no doubt.

  “You should turn around and pretend like you never saw us,” Jude suggested, sensing the war raging in Rush’s head.

  Rush looked at him with resolve. “It’s too late. I’m in this, whether I like it or not.”

  His fictitious blues—I missed his greys—swung my way. I recognized apprehension in his features, but also, strict determination in the proud, ramrod-straight set of his broad shoulders. And if I wasn’t mistaken, a glint of excitement twinkled in the depths of his eyes. Not even contacts could cover it. No, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  “It would be reall
y fucking awesome if we could get in and out undetected,” he added.

  “Wouldn’t it be, though? Let’s try our best to make sure that happens,” I said. I was in no mood to have a tête-à-tête with any of the Council members that night.

  Without another word, I lurched forward and raced across the dirt-patched field towards the next hill. I felt something dark and ominous about the twisting trees as I neared them. The shrubs surrounding the bottom of the trees were void of leaves; they were lifeless. The trunks’ bark was thick, grey, and grooved deep with cracks withered from old age.

  I walked past the trees and stopped in front of a door that was situated at the base of the hill. The entryway was partially hidden behind a large tree, and it was also camouflaged by more dead bushes. The foliage overlapped and draped like a canopy. It reminded me of a secret garden. But that hidden sanctuary wasn’t made of beautiful, carefully planted roses or lush, green topiaries, a setting that could induce dreams of fairies and unicorns. Instead, those surroundings created an ambiance of bleakness and death, reminding me of the way I felt every time I came across a vampire.

  I looked around, half-expecting some of those blood-suckers to jump out at me at any moment. I shivered and stepped forward, crossing the door’s threshold. Almost immediately, I saw a bag. It resembled the ones that the kidnapper had left on my doorstep. The cloth sack instantly jogged my memory, reminding me that the other note had told me I would find it there. I reached down and picked it up.

  “What it is?” Rush asked.

  “It’s another party favor from the prick hosting this scavenger hunt.”

  It was also a step forward in finding my sister. I opened the bag. What I uncovered took me by surprise. A knife? I measured the weight of the silver blade, holding it up so Rush and Jude could see it.

  “There’s nothing in here to explain why I need this.” Frustrated, I turned the sack inside out, but it was empty. Rush snatched the knife from my hand and looked it over.

  “This is impossible. There’s no way,” he mumbled.

  “What’s impossible, GQ? Spill it,” Jude said. He reached over and snatched the dagger out of Rush’s hands. Immediately, Rush snagged it back.

  “This is an ancestral dagger,” he said, his voice lowering a few decibels. It was like he was nervous that he would call attention to the blade, or to us. Whatever the reason he was acting so secretively, he certainly had my attention.

  “Why would the kidnapper leave me one of those?”

  Rubbing his chin, Rush was lost for a moment in his thoughts. He continued to inspect the blade. He flipped it over and slid a finger across the hilt and the blunt end of it. “This is a very old piece, maybe even fashioned by the first of our kind. See, take a look. You can tell by the crude markings along the side and bottom of the hilt.” Rush held the knife out, so I could look at it. Sure enough, there were swirled markings imbedded deep into the base of the dagger.

  “The fact that I am holding this priceless artifact in my hands is beyond crazy. But what is even crazier is this,” Rush said, pointing to the swirls located at the side of the hilt. The marking seemed to almost move, come alive, against the dark stone it was carved into. I had to blink a couple times to focus on the double figure eight design he pointed to. “That’s the sign of eternity; it belongs to your family line, Kris. This is one of your family’s sacred daggers.”

  “There’s more than one?” That was all I could think to say.

  “Every practicing Creator has one of his or her own. It’s used in a blood ritual for the corpses that are harder to awaken.”

  “I don’t have one,” I stated matter-of-factly. “And if you use them to raise the dead, then I’m not interested in ever having one.”

  “It looks like it’s yours, whether you want it or not. What you do with it is your business,” Rush said.

  I ran my tongue over my dry lips. If I hadn’t been sure before, I was positive then. The kidnapping had been meticulously planned. Someone needed or wanted something from me very badly—maybe for me to use that dagger. It all reeked of desperation, and from the lengths the person was willing to go to, it looked as if we were playing the game for keeps.

  I wrapped the dagger in the sack and tucked it next to the gun at my lower back. Before anyone could speak another word, I approached the door. It appeared to have been unused for years, covered by a thick coat of dirt and moss. With a sleeved forearm, I leaned forward and swiped part of the grime away from the area where the handle should have been located.

  “There’s no knob. How do you open the thing?” I asked.

  Jude shrugged.

  I looked over at Rush. “Any suggestions? This is your building; you must have some idea on how to get into it.”

  “Fuck,” he blurted.

  “What?” I asked, looking around, frantic. Had we been caught?

  “I mean, yes, I know how to open the door. But ‘fuck,’ because if I do open it, that’s it for me.” Rush leaned down and steadied himself on his knees. He reached over and pushed the side of the wall; the surface caved in against the pressure. For about three seconds, a blinding light surrounded his hand. After it faded away, the door opened. “The system keeps track of which hand print opens the door, so anyone that checks will know who authorized it.”

  A part of me hated the fact that I was putting Rush in that kind of screwed-up position. I was being selfish and single minded. I knew that. But there was an even bigger part of me that only cared about finding my sister, so any attack of conscience or regrets were short lived, overshadowed by everything else.

  Moonlight weaved through the wilted leaves of the canopy above us, bringing out a glint of Rush’s true eye color, the sexy gun-metal grey refusing to be hidden.

  “I’m sorry.” I pushed past him, my shoulder grazing his arm.

  It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I entered the Center’s private sanctuary. I blinked a few times, my surroundings coming into focus.

  Jude’s eyes were wide as he took in the room. “This place is kind of spooky, you guys.”

  That was an odd thing to hear coming from a ghost, but he was right. The place was a special kind of creepy.

  The spacious room was constructed of stone. The floor was made of dirt, hard and compact. There were compartments built into the walls, the front of each of them square, all labeled with names and dates. I quickly surmised that I was standing smack dab in the middle of a catacomb or mausoleum.

  “We call this the Holding Room.” Rush’s voice trailed off as he strolled across the space, making his way from one black iron sconce to another. The large and ornate light fixtures hung in a macabre manner on the walls, inside shallow alcoves that sectioned off some of the tombs. Rush lit the candles that were cradled inside them.

  “Holding Room?” I asked as I took in all the tombs and eerie lighting. I couldn’t help wondering how a place like that, all drab and dreary, could ever be considered anything other than what it was—a crypt.

  “Yeah, these tombs,” he began waving his arm in a wide arc to encompass the entire room, “are all filled with human corpses, waiting for their awakenings.”

  I gasped. “All these humans paid to become vampires?” I skimmed my eyes across the tombs; there were hundreds of them. “You guys will overrun the earth with blood-suckers.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing or seeing.

  Rush lit the final candle. The soft glow of natural light emphasized the hard lines of his face, casting half of it in shadow.

  “We have very strict rules in place to assure that doesn’t happen, Kris. Come here, and let me show you something.”

  I stomped the distance between us, furious. Rush pointed to a name plate. Kenneth Parker was engraved in the polished marble, along with a date.

  Reaching out, I traced the cool stone with the tip of my finger, lingering over the grooves that made up the date. “This is dated ten years from now.”

  Rush nodded and reached for my hand. The
tips of his fingers traced over my knuckles as he dragged his hand, pointing to the tomb next to Kenneth’s.

  “This lady won’t be reanimated until this date.” The date on Mary Ellen Jones’ tomb read, May 1999 to May 2099. One hundred years. “The Center is very strict about how many awakenings are allowed to be performed each year.”

  “How many vamps do you make in a year?” I prayed it wasn’t many, but I wished the answer was ‘none.’ My stomach tumbled at the thought of how many vampires could be living alongside humans. Most of them, perversely killing at will. All that unnecessary agony caused by a corporation built on selfish acts with an unquenchable thirst for power and money. “I’m sure it’s enough to keep all of you extremely wealthy. After all, what is life without mansions and Prada?”

  “Kris, you judge us too harshly. You have no idea what actually goes on here.”

  My whole body pivoted in his direction, my eyes locking on him like slashing daggers. Anger poured from me.

  “Do I? How many humans do you think have died as the result of lining the pockets of you and the Council with blood-laced gold?”

  Rush rubbed the back of his neck, and after releasing a long breath, he said, “You’re right; there have been casualties. Like any other race or species, there are the rare ones that are born evil, but what I’m trying explain is this. Just like humans, not all vampires are predisposed to kill. It’s the luck of the draw. Should human women stop giving birth because there’s a chance they may birth another Jeffrey Dahmer or Charles Manson?”

  “Are you kidding me with that crap?” I kept him pinned with my stare. “You’re only fooling yourself, certainly not me, if you believe that humans and vampires are the same in any way. Your vampires have to feed off of humans! They are their prey, treated like livestock in most cases. So your lame attempt at rationalizing your way into feeling okay about using your gifts to create them falls on deaf ears with me. Keep that crap to yourself, buddy.”