Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  The phantom stormed over to Rush. He thrust his arm forward, fisting a large portion of Rush’s shirt in his hand. He put his face an inch from Rush’s while he hefted Rush up onto his tip-toes, slamming him into the wall. Apparently, the guy didn’t like to be argued with.

  Well, I had news for the jerk-off; I didn’t like anyone screwing with my friends. Without thinking of the consequences, I pulled the gun from my waistband and leveled the barrel to the blond’s temple. Phantom or not, a direct shot to the head would really do some damage.

  “Drop him,” I ordered, keeping my arm steady, gun leveled.

  “Kris, back off. I can handle this asshole.” Rush seethed, piercing eyes filled with unsuppressed rage locked onto the phantom. “Put me the fuck down now, scumbag, or I will light this whole place up, and you know for damn sure you stand zero chance of living through that kind of heat,” Rush warned.

  What was Rush talking about? What heat? Could he siphon the life-energy from supernatural creatures like I could?

  “Try it, punk, and Torra is dead,” the phantom snarled back.

  That broke the camel’s back. I pulled back the hammer of my gun and flipped off the safety. “I was raised to shoot anything I point my gun at, so threaten my sister one more time, and I’ll do it. I swear to all that’s holy, I’ll shoot. I know the score. And you can bet your ass I will cooperate with any demand Wolf throws at me. But understand this—my friends and family are off limits. Got it?”

  The phantom transferred his gaze from Rush, the full force of his ice-cold stare landing on me, instead. I forced myself not to shiver under the weight of it. Whatever creature was squatting in that human had an evil soul. One that made me feel like worms would crawl out of his orifices any second, to plop sickeningly to the ground. The malevolent phantom was an infestation of the worst kind. I shook off the disgusting visual and returned his threatening look with one of my own. He must’ve believed I was capable of acting on my warning, because a moment later, he released Rush, who fell sideways against the wall, but I didn’t move to help him. I shot the phantom one last look before lowering my weapon.

  “You’re too brave for your own good,” the phantom said, raising a brow.

  “Probably.” I leaned over to help Rush to his feet. I held my arm out to him, but he shrugged it off.

  “I can handle myself,” he said in a tone with which he made sure I knew he was upset that I’d stepped in to save him from the phantom. He pushed up off the ground, steadying himself on his feet.

  I didn’t give a crap about his bruised ego. My interfering had worked, and in my opinion, that’s all that mattered. I eyed the big, bad monster in the room. If it was a body he wanted, then a body, he would get.

  “Be right back,” I said to the phantom.

  He looked in my direction, and then he continued arranging more things on the shelf. I turned and started for the door. Rush reached over to stop me. I smiled and said, “I’ll be fine. Just starting to feel a bit buried under all the testosterone flying around.”

  Rush flinched. I frowned and glanced over at Jude. I’d almost forgotten about him, he’d been so quiet. He stood several feet away from us with a candlestick gripped tightly in his fist, something he grabbed to use as a weapon. No matter his silence, he’d been ready to kick some ass, if needed.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He nodded and tossed the candlestick to the ground.

  ~~~

  The wide corridor, which was built from the blackest of stone, echoed the dim voices of the dead off its shiny walls. The same persistent voices I had tuned out, the ability learned from years of practice, the first time I was in that area of the building. Unless they had a pressing need for attention, ghosts tended to leave well enough alone.

  I ran my fingertips across the wall’s surface. It felt cool and smooth. I’d guess the stone used in the construction of those walls was either black obsidian or hematite. Both stones were spiritual in nature and were probably placed there for the grounding and protective aspects they held.

  I took in all the different voices, letting them soak into me as I made my way towards the tombs. Being in a room full of corpses would drive any other necromancer bat shit crazy, but ghosts and their nonsensical chatter were things I was used to dealing with on a regular basis. I enjoyed the interaction with them; it was like a ‘welcome home’ greeting of sorts.

  “I like your hair,” a feminine voice fluttered in my ear before floating off.

  “Thank you,” I said, keeping my pace.

  “Once I’m a vampire, you should let me take you out. I’m very rich and I will treat you right, beautiful,” a husky male voice said.

  “You stand a better chance with me as a ghost.”

  Ugh…I almost forgot that all of these lovely ghosts, my friends, would soon be turned into vampires. The thought soured my gut, so I switched gears and began to ignore them. Thinking about the ghosts as future vampires made the task easy for me.

  “Come on, darling, you’re breaking my heart here,” the same husky voice whined.

  “Bloody hell! You went and pissed off one of the few people who can hear us. Poor form, wanker!” a male voice said, reprimanding the flirtatious ghost.

  I kept walking, deciding to ignore them all. The guy with the accent sounded nice enough, but I reminded myself again that nice or not, that same ghost paid millions of dollars to become vampire scum. Freaking vampires! I found myself thinking that a lot.

  “Kris, wait up!” Rush’s voice echoed behind me.

  I slowed my pace, but refused to turn and look at him. I thought I’d made it crystal clear that what I was doing was something I wanted to do on my own. Right before he reached me, I let out a suffered groan. “What is it?”

  He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. The front of it was red from where the phantom had grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. I also noticed the collar of his shirt was rumpled and torn.

  “I had to come after you,” he whispered. “I feel like things between us are…well, unstable. Yeah, that would be a good way to describe it. After everything that’s happened tonight, and could still happen, I just need to clear the air with you. Let me tag along, no strings. I know I pulled some macho bull back there, but come on. Give a guy a break.”

  He lowered his hand, his head tilting up. His eyes stared at me intently, and there was nothing shy about it. His tongue slipped out, wetting his bottom lip, quickly moving to the top bowed arch. Then he began worrying his bottom lip gently between his teeth. The provocative move was probably a nervous habit of his, a habit that was sexy as hell.

  “Oh, fine,” I said, quickly giving in. “I wasn’t sure how I’d carry a body back to the room by myself, anyway.”

  “I’m sure you would have managed just fine.” He smiled.

  I moaned at the aggravating man. Rush was chipping away at my defenses, the walls I’d painstakingly built out of mistrust and a strong sense of self-preservation. I used the barrier as a way to ward off handsome and dangerous men, mainly of the vampire persuasion.

  “Thanks. Now, cut the crap so we can get this over with. The idea of having to grave-rob has me on edge,” I said, awkwardly smiling back at him. I turned and took off down the hall.

  “Which one should we take?” I asked, walking past all the names.

  Heather Day: August 12, 1900 - 2020.

  Bradley Newman: November 03, 2000 - 2100.

  Marcus West: February 01, 1850 - 2050.

  I took a second look at Bradley’s date. 2100? That was a long time to wait for an awakening. I tried to think of why anyone would want to wait so long to be brought back from the dead, and all I could come up with was that he could be waiting for certain people to die off. I hoped for his sake if that was true, the person or people he was hiding from didn’t have the forethought to do the same thing as he had—fork up the dough to become a vampire. Bradley would be in for a big surprise. But what did I know? I was only letting my imagination ru
n wild, making up gangsta fairytales.

  “I guess one corpse is as good as the other. Either way, a missing body will have the Council in an uproar, right along with any of the deceased’s family members. Come tomorrow morning, all hell will break loose, because each one of these tombs is individually rigged and will send a breach code error to the mainframe’s database if disrupted before the scheduled time,” Rush warned.

  “Can you bypass the alarm?” I asked, stopping in front of the next tomb.

  “I can try.”

  “Good enough for me. Let’s grab this one, then. Rafe Devereaux: September 21, 2013 - 2025. Today is your lucky day. You’re coming with us.”

  I heard an excited, “Yes!” float through the air at me. I could imagine a fist pump accompanying it. The fact that the ghost to whom the body belonged wasn’t upset about what we were doing made me feel a lot better about the desecration of his remains.

  I unhinged the front plate on the crypt by slipping my fingers into the left side crack of the squared stone. After feeling around, the tip of my index finger flicked a spiny lever or switch. The stone made a grinding noise as it opened, sliding on its own in the opposite direction.

  “Hold on,” Rush said, leaning over me. I stopped short of opening the tomb.

  His chest brushed against my back. I sank into it, hardly able to quench the urge to rub him back, as his hips slid across my backside enticingly. His body stiffened with the intimate contact, and then everything went silent.

  We didn’t move. We allowed the feeling of contentment and lust bubble over us. Even the ghosts stopped their chattering. The stillness didn’t last long. I felt the movement of his hips before his face lowered down to touch mine. Our cheeks grazed; his skin was soft and warm. I took a deep, intoxicating breath, soaking in his male scent, mint and soap with a hint of sunshine.

  Our eyes met and he blinked, dark lashes landing briefly on the tips of his cheek bones. The man was a treat for the eyes, and my teeth were aching for something sinfully sweet to nibble on.

  “Kris,” he whispered, breaking the silence.

  I turned, my body swaying towards him. His eyes were hooded, his lips wet and inviting. They were lust-filled magnets drawing me in, wanting to be sucked on, nibbled, and kissed properly.

  He slipped his hands around my waist and leaned forward. He nipped my bottom lip, testing the water. My breathing became harsh, the tiny love-bite making me dizzy. His lips were so close all I had to do was move an inch. In the next breath, my mouth covered his. He pressed us tighter together; I was enjoying it way too much.

  “We can’t do this,” I said, breaking away. My heated body wanted to rebel against the traitorous words trickling from my mouth. I was certain that if my libido had a form of its own, it would punch me square in the nose.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said as he moved around me, careful not to let our bodies touch for a second time.

  It took him a minute to cool down before he began to fiddle with a panel situated on the inside wall of the crypt. Then it was like nothing had happened. There was a hollow emptiness in the space he vacated. I sighed and watched him type in the appropriate codes on a keypad.

  “That should do it.”

  I moved to the side as he rolled out a steel table with the dead body of Rafe Devereaux lying on it.

  “You take the legs, and I’ll grab him by the shoulders,” Rush said.

  “Sure thing,” I said softly, shaking off the lingering effects of his kiss. It was time for business as usual, like I wanted it. I’d never claimed to be a genius.

  Chapter Twelve

  Back in the other room, Rush and I placed the corpse down on top of the table. I wrapped my fingers around his cold and stiff arms, placing them gently up against his sides. Looking down on his still features, I took a moment to respect the dead by whispering a short prayer under my breath. I wasn’t a religious person, but I did believe each life and death was precious and deserved acknowledgement. The prayer was my way of doing that.

  Leaning over, I pushed a patch of mussed-up, dark hair out of the dead man’s face. He looked so peaceful, like he was asleep. I made a mental note to ask Rush how the corpse remained so fresh after being dead for so long.

  After I finished with him, I looked up, eyes landing on two white candles which were nestled inside a large pile of clotted dirt. There was also a jar of water and a large bowl filled with chunks of salt. All the items were placed on a shelf at the head of the table. The phantom walked to the opposite side of the room, stopping in front of one of the built-in cabinets. He opened a panel and took out a neatly folded garment.

  “You’ll need to put this on,” he said, holding the white garment out to me.

  I strolled over and plucked it out of his hands. After unfolding it, I let half the fabric fall loose, the edges of the robe sweeping the ground. “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing?”

  “Just put it on. I’m tired of your mouth,” he barked.

  “Watch what you say to her,” Jude said.

  My eyes swung to him. He was standing in the same spot he’d been in before I left. He was turning several shades of red, his face scrunched up like a prune. My eyes widened as tendrils of white fog began to slowly trickle from his body.

  “What the hell?” Jude whispered. As he watched the fog curl around him, fear struck across his face.

  His anger at the phantom was momentarily forgotten. Holding out his hands, he watched in horror as they began to fade in and out, losing corporeal form. The fog began to churn in on itself, creating a long stream. It continued on that way, sucking up more of Jude’s human body, until after several seconds, it reached out and began to move towards me.

  An anguished cry tore from Jude’s lips. Shaking his head back and forth, he began to move away from the concentrated smoke, away from the mist. But he couldn’t hide from it, because it wasn’t attacking him; it was exiting his body. I watched it creep towards me, the sound of laughter ringing out before an ice-cold spray of power crashed over me.

  I could vaguely hear Rush in the background. He was yelling something at the phantom who had been the source of the mischievous laughter. My body seized, overtaking my thoughts, leaving me helpless to move. I could only internally pray for the end of the agonizing pain. I heard another scream, and it was like a knife ripping, tearing, and rending the flesh from my throat. It went on, stabbing and punishing, until I realized the screams I heard were my own.

  “Kris, can you hear me? Say something.”

  I came around to the sound of Rush’s worried voice blasting from above me. I cracked open my eyes to see that he was kneeling down, holding the back of my throbbing skull in the palm of his ginormous hand. My first thought, as soon as my mind cleared, was a shameful one. It was something along the lines of you know what they say about big hands and feet.... That settled it. I was a wanton ho bag.

  “I’m okay. Where’s Jude?” I didn’t care about myself; I was breathing well enough, but I’d passed out too soon to know of Jude’s fate.

  “I’m right here.”

  I almost cried in relief when I heard the sweet sound of my best friend’s voice. “Thank God.” I closed my eyes and relaxed, letting my nerves settle down to a more bearable frenzy, instead of their constant turmoil, an all-out war of the furies that raged to wreak havoc on my sanity.

  “If you’re finished with your nap, ghost maker, we still have work to do,” the phantom stated.

  The change of the phantom’s usual harsh tone—and if I wasn’t mistaken, the look of worry—was confusing. It was almost as if I frightened him in some way. Jude came into focus in front of me; he wore a waning smile.

  “I guess the new duds were only temporary,” Jude said.

  I sat up, easily regaining my legs in one leap. I felt better than ever, stronger, and more vital. Somehow, I knew what I’d inadvertently done to Jude. Earlier, I had transferred my life energy to him, gifting his ethereal form with a body. But then,
without my consent, the power returned to its home, crashing through the doors like a battering ram, not even pausing to call first or wipe its feet on the Welcome mat.

  “I’m sorry, Jude. I can try giving it back. Come here,” I offered, holding out my hand.

  Dejected, he shook his head. “Maybe later. Now’s not the time.”

  The phantom cleared his throat; the sound carried over from across the room. Was he keeping a farther distance from me than he had before? Earlier, he was all up in my face, barking orders. Interesting.

  Rush handed me the robe, drawing my attention to him. “Are you up for this?”

  “Up for what, exactly? Do you know what Wolf wants me to do?”

  He looked around the room and then back at me. “It’s rather obvious, Kris. I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. There’s an altar, a robe, and a dead body. What else could he possibly want from you?”

  My mouth fell open. I was a blundering idiot. Of course! It came together like a flash mob, all at once. In order to save my sister, Wolf wanted me to do what he assumed was ‘what I do best,’ using his own turn of words. However, little did he know, I had never before used my powers to raise and subsequently turn a corpse into a vampire. What I did best was kill them.

  “This night just keeps getting better and better.”

  ~~~

  I put on the white ceremonial garment and tucked the sacred dagger inside the knot cinched at the waist, holding the robe closed. Everyone but Rush was standing off to the side, quietly waiting for me to start the ritual. I had asked Rush to stay close by me, so he could walk me through all the required steps of an awakening. He agreed, so we stood at the foot of the table. I, not knowing what to do, and he, waiting for me to tell him I was ready. After pushing back the last of my misgivings and my ever-mounting fear, I nodded, signaling for us to begin, in my opinion, an unholy ritual.

  “First, you must create your circle of protection,” Rush began. He leaned over Rafe’s body and snagged the bowl full of salt off of the ledge. “You need to do this yourself. The protective elements from the circle are to be controlled by and bonded to you.” He handed me the container. “Sprinkle the salt once around the table, being careful to remain inside it. There must be no breaches made in the circle.” Rush turned to give the squatter in our midst a disgusted look as he continued. “A breach can invite unwanted souls in. They can fuse themselves to the body, stealing it, much like a phantom would.” Then looking back at me, he said, “Go ahead. I’ll watch and make sure you’re doing everything right.”