Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  Even though Hades and Poseidon had knocked my sire a few notches down the ladder of badassery, Shade would be a formidable opponent. He knew all my moves, after all. I wasn’t under any sort of delusion I could go head to head with him, but if he tried to keep me from Doreán, he would have to kill me.

  “Move,” I ground out.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Shade asked.

  “Yes. I negotiated a new contract. Now please move so I can leave.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking lost for the first time ever. “Daughter, you have ruined us all.”

  Daughter? That was a new one. I’d fought for him, stolen for him, and on numerous times almost died for him, and not once had he deemed me good enough to call me his daughter. Disgusted, I grabbed my daggers and stalked right up to him.

  “Don’t you dare call me that. You are not my father, Shade,” I spat. Anger rang through my veins like one the Harpē’s battle songs, reminding me of all the pain he’d inflicted over the years. “I was your slave, your puppet, your victim, but never your daughter. I am free now, and I’m taking my child and getting out of here. You will stay away from us, or I will kill you.”

  “You can’t.”

  He was probably right, but I refused to be bullied. “Try me.”

  His dark eyes flared and shadows danced around him. “You can’t leave; I forbid it,” he said.

  I laughed. “That doesn’t work anymore.”

  “Your place is here. Nobody else will take you in. You’ll be homeless with a kid, and now that they know what you can do, every god out there will be after you, trying to take advantage of your luck.”

  “And how is that any different than what you’ve done the last twenty-two years?”

  “Because I…I gave you life.”

  “Uh…congratulations, you donated sperm.”

  “Pli-Romi, don’t do this. We’ll figure out a way to fix this problem and we’ll—”

  Problem? My freedom was a problem. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, walking through his shadowy form. “I’m no longer your concern.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I OPENED THE door of my flat and stepped through the ward, only to find a complete wreck awaiting me. The coffee table was pushed over on its side with a blanket strewn from it to my two overturned coffee tables. Little green army men were lined up one side of the room and appeared to be about to launch an attack on the stuffed animals thrown haphazardly around them.

  From where I stood I could see pizza on the kitchen table and smell pepperoni with a hint of burnt crust. Before I moved to investigate the state of what appeared to be an interrupted lunch, a giant golden-brown beast rounded the corner and flew straight for my head. I dropped to the floor and rolled, crunching army men into my back as wings beat down in the very spot I’d just occupied, filling the air with the spicy scent of animal magic. Most parents would be unnerved to find a creature with an eight-foot wingspan, the furry body of a lion, and the talons and beak of a giant eagle in their flat, but this was my norm. The griffin banked left, inches shy of smashing against the wall, sending my heart into my throat, because he was carrying my most precious cargo.

  This half-baked adolescent griffin was my childcare provider.

  Peals of heartwarming childish laughter came from the griffin’s back, reassuring me that my parenting skills weren’t too awful. Sure, my kid and his overstuffed birdie-babysitter defied death on the regular, but at least he was happy.

  “Again, Tweety, again!” Doreán shouted.

  Yes, Tweety, because that’s what you get when you let your child name the awe-inspiring three-hundred-plus-pound mystical creature who babysits him. Doreán was three and a half, going on ten, whereas Tweety was in his twenties, but physically and mentally going on about sixteen. Turns out griffins mature slowly, if at all, and this furry eagle was more like a crazy cousin than a father figure to my little man. Which was fine, since Doreán already had a dad. And now that I was free, he was finally going to meet him. My stomach churned with nerves at the idea.

  Tweety landed, and the spicy scent of his magic strengthened as he morphed into a tanned, bare-chested blond teenager with piercing green eyes, wearing brown leather shorts that ended just past his knees. I’d asked him about the shorts (why he always wears them in human form, and what happens to them when he sprouts feathers), but he just smiled coyly and refused to answer. After that, I figured I probably didn’t want to know. At almost six-feet tall, with shaggy blond hair and a body of lean muscle, he looked like he belonged on a high school basketball court, rather than flying the open skies of magical realms.

  He tossed a dark-haired, caramel-skinned, bundle of giggles into the air and jumped up to perch on the back of my new sofa, which explains what happened to the last one. And the old kitchen table. And the matching table lamps that I hadn’t even bothered to replace. My non-human babysitter and his three-year-old adrenaline junkie charge had spent the past three years adding a particularly destructive punchline to my joke of a life.

  “Hello, Romi, how was your day?” Tweety asked, catching Doreán by one leg.

  I stood from my roll, straightened my dress, and opened my arms. Tweety tossed Doreán the two feet to me. I caught my kid, squeezed him, and covered his face in kisses while he giggled and fought to squirm free.

  “My day? Well, I stole a magical sword from a spawn of Dolos, made a deal for my freedom with two scary gods who I’m reasonably sure will eventually con me into doing something else for them, and I just flipped Shade the bird, so we need to pack up and get out of here before he figures out how to tie me down again.”

  Tweety cocked an eyebrow. “The bird?”

  “Not the literal bird.” I pointed to my middle finger, but immediately gave up. Thanks to the wonders of television and video games, Tweety had an excellent grasp of the English language, but metaphors confused him and sarcasm often went right over his head. “Never mind. The important thing is that we’re free and we need to get packed and out of here.”

  Tweety’s neck jetted forward in a move so non-human I wouldn’t have been surprised to see his feathers regrow. “You’re free from your contract? Like I’m free from mine?”

  I nodded and glanced back at the door that led to Shade’s flat. He’d never been inside my home before. Despite all of his strict rules, he’d granted me this one freedom, allowing me to have a tiny piece of earth he didn’t darken with his presence. Of course he hadn’t needed to, since he’d always had the power to summon me. Now we were in uncharted territory and I had no idea what my sire would do. I also had no interest in sticking around to find out.

  Doreán finally wrenched free from my arms and I barely caught him midair before setting him safely down on the floor. “Yes, so now we can go anywhere we want. Well…after I take this little wiggle worm to meet his d-a-d.”

  “D-a-d spells dad,” Doreán said. Then he spun around and stared up at me with wide eyes. “My dad? I’m going to meet my dad?”

  “In related news, guess what today’s word of the day was,” Tweety said.

  Perhaps my smartassery was rubbing off on the griffin after all. I scrubbed a hand down my face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “Nope. The whole episode was devoted to dads in honor of the upcoming Father’s Day.”

  “Of course it was. Why didn’t you change the channel?”

  “I tried, but he threw a fit. He’s been asking questions about it all day.”

  Frustration made me want to whack the griffin upside his bird brain, but I got it. It’s not like he had a plethora of underground activities to keep Doreán busy.

  Doreán tugged at the hem of my dress. “I want to meet my dad.”

  Who knew what sort of expectations about dads this show had put into his head? Hoping my kid wasn’t in for the biggest disappointment of his little life, I squatted down until I was eye level with him. “Okay, baby. You’re going to meet your dad today, so why don’t you let T
weety comb your hair and dress you in something nice?”

  His brow furrowed with confusion as he looked to Tweety. “But you said I couldn’t see my dad. You said he was beating up bad guys. He’s a superhero.” The dimpled smile Doreán beamed at me made me want to bash my head against the wall.

  “A superhero?” I asked, glaring at Tweety. “You didn’t think that was setting expectations a little high?”

  “You said he’d probably never meet him.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Doreán kept asking questions and…and I had to tell him something.”

  “Is my dad a superhero?” Doreán asked.

  How could I answer that when I didn’t even know his dad’s name, much less the guy’s occupation. Talk about awkward. “Uh…”

  “Come on, kid, let’s get you dressed and ready to go.” Tweety grabbed Doreán’s hand and led him toward his bedroom.

  I took a moment to silently curse the writers of whatever show had chosen today, of all days, to shine a spotlight on dads. What were the chances? Unable to do anything about it but hope Doreán’s dad wasn’t a complete loser, I headed to my own room to gaze into my closet and fret about what to wear.

  My wardrobe held no appropriate attire for reconnecting with a one-night stand and introducing him to his kid. What did one wear to an event like that anyway? The details of my night with Doreán’s father were fragmented and fuzzy, but since I’d gotten knocked up, I don’t think I was on my best behavior. Determined to make a better second impression, I immediately decided to ditch the sexy little black dress I was wearing. After all, this wasn’t about me, it was about Doreán. And as much as I wanted to get to know his father, I had no desire to distract him from our kid.

  I shuffled through my closet a few more times and then slipped into my normal work wear: black T-shirt, black pants with hidden sewn-in dagger sheaths, and black boots. Like it or not, this was me. With the comfortable weight of my daggers back on my thighs, I glanced into the mirror long enough to run a brush through my long dark hair and give myself a pep talk.

  “It’s his right to know he has a son. If he doesn’t want to be involved in Doreán’s life, no biggie. We’ve gotten this far without him. A real family would be nice, but I turned out okay without one.”

  Who was I kidding? I was talking to myself about introducing my kid to his dad. Certain that meant I was anything but okay, I rolled my eyes at my reflection and called out, “You two ready?”

  “Almost. Just packing Doreán a bag,” Tweety called back.

  Good idea. I kept my oversized backpack stocked with the necessities for my life of thievery: about five grand in various denominations and currencies, the keys to a few secret lockboxes that held more, and the tools of the trade. But there was plenty of room for additional supplies. I added a few changes of clothes, toiletries, and the most comprehensive book I had on mythological beings. Then I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed for the living room.

  Doreán stood on the coffee table, wearing his own backpack, while Tweety stuffed granola bars, fruit snacks, and juice boxes into it. “He gets hungry a lot,” Tweety explained, tossing the empty boxes aside.

  “Did you pack for you, too?” I asked

  Tweety turned so I could see the bag on his back. “I don’t know where we’re going, so I grabbed some of the shirts you got me and some snacks.”

  “That’ll work. We’ll buy whatever else we need.”

  I picked Doreán up and Tweety draped an arm over my shoulders. This was it! We were finally leaving the Seattle Underground for good. We could go anywhere and do anything we wanted and nobody would squeeze my insides and force me to bring us back. I felt a strange mix of giddy anticipation for the future and nostalgia for the familiarity we were leaving behind.

  I took one last look at the flat. Shade had remodeled the place long before I was born, but I’d painted it, decorated it, and made it my own. Sure, it was my prison, but I’d always felt a measure of safety while locked away behind its doors. The idea of never returning was both exciting and terrifying. Silently promising myself I’d find us safety again somewhere, I kissed the top of Doreán’s head, leaned against Tweety, and wrapped the three of us in shadows.

  The world shifted, and Tweety and I both wobbled as the wooden floor beneath our feet turned to sand. Blinking until my eyesight adjusted, I breathed in the ocean air and listened to seagulls squawking and waves crashing against the beach. The early afternoon sun beat down, heating my black clothes as the breeze tousled my hair, slapping it against my face.

  Doreán’s face lit up, and he struggled to get down. I’d taken him and Tweety to the beach before, but never to this one. This beach seemed to hum with magic. Giant rocks ran up and down the coastline, breaking up the surf. Shells and driftwood speckled the beach. Inland, majestic mountains rose over the tops of ancient evergreens. The sleepy little town in the distance looked perfect for postcard photos. The strangest part of it…I had no clue where we were. I’d only been here once before—about four years ago—and couldn’t remember how I’d arrived then.

  Doreán wriggled free from my grasp and hit the ground running. Tweety and I watched as he sprinted for a few yards before bending over to pick up a seashell.

  “He lives around here?” Tweety asked, scanning the area.

  Shrugging, I swiped the hair out of my face and pointed at the only two buildings nearby. “Maybe there?”

  Tweety cocked his head. “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head. “We didn’t uh…talk.”

  He blinked.

  “At least not that I remember. The details are a little fuzzy.”

  “And you didn’t go into his house?” His lips twitched as he struggled to keep a straight face.

  “No.” My cheeks heated. Desperate to get the griffin off the subject I shouted, “Doreán, come here, honey. Show me what you found.”

  “You guys did it outside?”

  I about choked.

  While I was trying to recover, Doreán showed me the sand dollar he’d found, and I sent him off to find more.

  “Romi?” Tweety asked, still watching me.

  “I…um…remember how we talked about those awkward personal questions you shouldn’t ask? This is one of them.”

  Tweety’s grin threatened to split his face in half. “I think I like this guy already.”

  Nothing like a hormonal adolescent endorsing your sexual endeavors to make you feel like a freak. In truth, there was very little I remembered about that night. Just snippets. The taste of wine, the feel of sand, dark skin, incredible silvery-blue eyes catching the moonlight, hard muscles pressed against me, brief pain then immense pleasure. What I didn’t remember, was anything conventional. Like a bed.

  Tweety’s eyes widened with all sorts of questions, making me wonder if his animal senses were picking up on both the confusion and the desire I felt when my thoughts drifted back. His smirk told me he understood a little too much. Probably my fault for hooking him up with sex-ed books to answer the uncomfortable questions that often arose when we watched sitcoms or movies together. Television and books…that’s where I’d gotten my sex-ed from.

  “Want me to keep the boy out here and give you two a minute?” Tweety asked.

  If he was a normal teenage boy, I would have promised him a sports car on the spot. But since he wasn’t, and he could fly, I gave him an appreciative hug and hoped it was enough. “Please.”

  He nodded. “You got it. As much time as you need. Just use protection. I don’t think I can handle a second Doreán.”

  And I could do without the advice. Shaking my head, I left Tweety and Doreán on the beach and jogged toward the buildings, hoping to find my mysterious one-night-stand.

  The house lay quiet, but loud pounding came from the second building, which appeared to be some sort of workshop. The door was closed but not locked. My first instinct was to push it open, creep in, and check the place out, but I resisted, reminding myself that I was supposed to be ma
king a better second impression.

  I took a deep breath and pounded on the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN THE DOOR finally swung open, I found myself face to face with the man of my dreams. Seriously, the first thought that came to my mind was, Oh my gods, I have been dreaming about this man for four years.

  My second thought was, Wow, I sound really pathetic.

  There were also a few requests of, Hey idiot, stop talking to yourself, and say something to him!

  Didn’t matter. All I could do was gape at his rich chocolate skin, short dark hair, strong, stubble-covered jaw, and starkly contrasting silvery-blue eyes. After dreaming about those features for so long, here I was, face to face with the man, and I couldn’t speak. I dragged my gaze down to the rest of him. A heavy apron covered his chest down to his knees, but I didn’t need to see his powerful chest to remember it. Sweat glistened from bare arms that rivaled Poseidon’s, and the metal and man scent he projected heated every inch of my body. My gaze traveled back up to his intense silvery-blues.

  Man I wish our kid would have gotten those eyes.

  I stood there, locked in his gaze as minutes ticked by. Just when I thought we’d be stuck like that forever, Tweety whooped in the distance, breaking the trance.

  “What was that?” Doreán’s dad asked, looking over my head toward the beach.

  His voice was deep and sexy, exactly like I’d imagined it would be, but it was too soon for him to see our kid. I needed to explain the situation first. Panicking, I went to shove him back into the building but stopped when my hand landed on his aproned chest.

  Push him? Still not a good second impression.

  I patted him instead, and then dropped my hand to my side. “Uh…hey. Can I…come in and uh…talk to you a minute?”

  “You want to come in?” he asked.