The Darkest Hour

[Asila]

This is a story I have begun. It was meant to be a book one day, but, well, I have this tendency to get wrapped up in yet another fantasy or daydream before I ever finish working on the current story. *sigh* Someday...

Anyway, I'm going to post this in page increments, since I have a feeling it will translate into at least thirty pages on your average writing program when it's not double spaced.

Disclaimer: This is something I began two years ago, so I like to believe my writing skills have improved since then and that this isn't my best work, but it is such a fun story and I really worry too much so I'll just get on with it. Just note than I kind of tried to rush the events just so I could get the entire thing on paper before my mind phased into it's newest idea for a novel. I didn't succeed, but that is the reason for the quick pace and flitting rhythm on this story. And if some of the information is redundant, that is because I didn't start writing it in the order that it is in now and a few things got repeated just as some are not explained as well as they should have been by virtue of a frantic writing pace. Anyway, I believe I am finished here.

Explanations: There are a few things that I never did get a chance to clarify in my story, since it remains unfinished. I'll post them here as they show up.

Names- All of my witches/wizards/knights are named after things because the mothers of these unusual individuals would receive a vision before they were born. Some parents would be more creative with these names then others. Jade's mother, for example, named the girl for her eye color while Midnight's mother was obviously more of a romantic. Just for the record, we don't like Jade's mother, even though we never hear much about her in this story. It is just a prototype, after all. Also, the Knight in this story, Rav, was originally named Raven. I just shortened it because I no longer like the name Raven, though I still love the bird and think it makes a beautiful gothic symbol, and so I probably won't completely change his name even though I now have issues with it...

[Asila]

And, without further ado, it begins.

At night, the last forests of North America put on a gloomy front. An opaque mist spread it’s slowly curling tendrils among the trunks of the ancient oaks, highlighted silver by the waning crescent moon. The closer trees were visible only as vertical black columns who's dark branches linked overhead in a black web that caged the brilliant stars from reach. Beyond that, the world was obscured in a wash of navy blue. From the midst of this darkness, a visitor could hear the mournful question of the owl and the sad song of the wolf

But somehow, when she was in the center of this night wilderness, Midnight felt neither trapped nor alone. Instead she felt liberated, fearless and safe, guarded by a wall of trees when she chose to stay yet free to go as she desired. She gazed listlessly at the brightly glowing screen of the laptop that rested upon her lap, pondering her memories and trying to filter them through the complicated web of language.

The young woman leaned against the North Guardian, who curled around her now, very much alive though in the light of day he had been a lifeless granite statue. He wasn’t any softer now. His side did not yield as she lay her head against it, but somehow he moved with the supple grace of any living creature even though he was made of something so rigid as stone.

There were three other Guardians that watched over the remaining sides of the house, and still another that was not bound to the spot he stood in. At this moment, Freelance was lying at her side, his vibrant golden eyes leaping from shadow to shadow in a constant survey of the still forest.

Midnight stretched, unconcerned by the intense scrutiny of her silent companions. With the strength of the Guardians to back her own flagging energy and the towering cathedral of trees to shelter her, Midnight felt strong and content. She watched her breath condense in a ghostly cloud and marveled at how the cold of late autumn seemed to chill the air into a state of impossible clarity. When everything sparkled with crystalline purity, it was almost possible to forget that her life was coming to an end.

Midnight sighed and turned back to the glowing screen of her laptop, trying to call her attention back to the story of the eight-year-old girl she had once been.

The child that lived in these pages seemed more a dream than she had ever been, Midnight thought, sinking into a sad reverie. As a writer, she had always planned to submit the unbelievable story of her childhood. As fiction, of course, for no one would ever believe in the truth of these events. Winged cats, vampires, and wizardly knights were assumed to be the products of fantasy and could never be encountered in the real world.

Still, Midnight felt that her story had to be known, and more importantly, she had to acknowledge it. Writing a novel seemed the perfect way to do it, and if she lived long enough, she may even be able to do something with the money that such a book could earn.

But the problems of the past were eclipsed by the equally unbelievable problems of the present, and Midnight doubted she would ever see the day.

Azirath, her thoughts whispered mournfully, pulling her back into the story. The memory of the winged lion that had accompanied her through a couple of her early years had been enough to keep her going for well over a decade, despite the atrocities she had endured a short while after he had fled.

[Asila]

Midnight pointedly ignored those later memories in favor of her last night with Azirath. What had he told her that night? Oh, yes.

“It’s not safe to be near me, Midnight.” Azirath had snarled, cat-like even though he was now in the shape of a human boy. Midnight had watched him, wide-eyed, and wondered why he seemed so jittery. His fear was infectious.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked him, her voice trembling. “You’re frightening me.”

Azirath spun to face her, shaking with anxiety. “You’re not safe. This knight from the otherworld is closing in on me, Midnight. I’m not sure why, I only know that if he finds me while you are near he could kill you too.”

Midnight froze, staring blankly at her friend. “Kill?”

Azirath didn’t seem to hear the question. “Too late,” he whispered, and leapt to the side just as a shadow detached itself from the darkness and hurtled toward them. Azirath bolted into the brush, his passage a brief flash of white, and the dark figure began to follow.

“Wait!” She shrieked, and threw herself at her friend’s attacker. The darkness shifted, looking toward her.

The young girl closed her eyes fearfully, expecting death, but something bright and powerful rose within her. Embracing this new weapon, she focused and sharpened it, then launched it into the dark man’s leg like a knife.

The shadow figure sucked in it’s breath in a loud hiss, then lifted a beam of silver light and brought it down upon her. Just before the weapon struck, Midnight realized that it was a sword.

Midnight’s fingers froze on the keyboard as she remembered the overwhelming pain and sense of terror she had felt as the weapon had bitten deep into her throat. But it was not this memory that slowed her now. It was how the man had looked in that brief instant before his sword struck. Caught by a silver beam of light, Midnight had realized that he was not simply darkness incarnate. His face was gaunt, the eyes fallen into black shadow. At the time it had seemed to her that he did not have eyes at all. He looked like a corpse, dressed in black leather and wearing an equally dark cloak. Other swords had hung from his belt at his side, their sheaths resembling flattened ebony spikes.

Midnight shivered. That image had been the cause of half her nightmares, rivaled only by the memory of the vampire that had found her a few years later…

Something nudged her sharply, and Midnight noticed that the frosted grass below her had acquired a new blood-red tone. Almost as soon as she noticed, though, the color faded and she realized with a sense of horror that the color had come from the glow of her own eyes.

The North Guardian and Freelance were circling her nervously, though the movement seemed to pain the normally stationary North.

“I’m fine,” Midnight assured them, though inwardly she was seething with disgust. She could normally control the mindless rage of the vampire, but this ability seemed to be weakening. The vampiric wrath was always close to the surface now, and Midnight was no longer confidant in her ability to keep it shackled. Damn. How long did she have until she lost her soul to it forever?

This was the first episode in years, she reminded herself viscously. True, she was weaker now and less capable of subduing the anger, but there was a good chance that death would reach her before murderous insanity could.

[Asila]

Like the sense of peace that shrouded the darkness of her past, a glass membrane so frail and brittle it would shatter if you leaned too heavily upon it, the frosted night had lost it’s glamour. Midnight retreated to the warmth of her home, and to the pain she endured when she had to isolate herself within it.

In warmer weather she would sleep outside, so that the power of the Guardian’s could revive, at least for the moment, her failing body.

***

Midnight slid out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Dropping to her knees beside the toilet, she gripped the plastic seat with violently shaking hands and proceeded to empty the contents of her touchy stomach. It didn’t take long. She didn’t eat much anymore, and when her stomach ran out of ammunition she lay down on the patterned linoleum and tried the ignore the nausea that continued to ransack her body.

The sickness was getting worse. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue. She couldn’t sleep well, could hardly function, and she was slowly starving from lack of food. She was reaching the end of her life and there was nothing she could do about it. Her illness was not one that had a medical cure.

Days, she thought, I only have days left. Somehow, that didn’t bother her. She had won. The vampire had been unable to recruit her. She had fought him to the last and her death would be one she could be proud of, for she had proved herself stronger.

Midnight felt her exhaustion creep closer and succumbed to it. She needed the rest.

When she woke again, it was noon. Bright midday sunlight poured into her emerald bathroom and she groaned in irritation. She knew from the angle of the light alone that she had to be at work in a little less than two hours, and she still had work to do here.

She had woken up on this bathroom floor so often now that she could judge the time of day just by the angle of the sun’s rays. It was an interesting accomplishment, but not exactly the kind of thing one would celebrate.

Slowly, she climbed to her feet. She summoned the strength she had left and tried to walk back to her bedroom. The earth rolled around her and she almost blacked out. She clenched her jaw and leaned against the door frame until she could see again. She refused to let her physical state win. Pushing aside her weakness and misery, she got dressed and prepared to walk into the sunlight.

She was not entirely human. She had gotten tangled up with the affairs of a vampire and now had the blood of the creature running through her veins, along with her own since he hadn’t drained her. She didn’t understand his reasons for this, she only knew that his blood was making her life difficult. If she were to walk into direct sunlight without any protection, she would burn. Not burst into flame, as a true vampire would, but her skin would turn red and blister within the hour. She didn’t have a problem on a cloudy day, in the shade, or in the backwash of light that brightened her home during the day, but she had to protect her skin and eyes when walking into the sun.

[Asila]

An even layer of Coppertone SPF 45 spread across her exposed skin and a pair of sunglasses the filtered out UV rays took care of the problem and Midnight walked outside looking relatively normal.

If anyone who has a wardrobe made up of black clothing and who happened to possess a passion for dramatic flare could ever pass as normal.

Midnight went to the shelter first. She walked into the shaded building. Shaded, but not dark. Dozens of small windows were set high in the walls, providing the room with a soft light that did not hurt Midnight’s eyes and provided more than enough illumination for her nocturnal charges. A score of eyes turned in her direction, all in various shades of blue, green, gold, and coppery orange. Midnight thought cats, of all creatures, had the most beautiful eyes.

“Good morning, kittens.” she greeted them with weary cheerfulness. She got a chorus of happy meows from the more vocal cats, though the reserved felines, who were the majority, just watched her with still, gem-toned eyes before returning to their interrupted naps. Midnight loved those antisocial felines the most, for she saw herself in their withdrawal and reluctance to trust people. She was also sympathetic. She had always managed to find homes for the more outgoing cats. Everybody wanted a loving, family pet. But most of the independent cats remained here with her, many had already lived here for a couple years and would probably continue to do so. People wanted blind devotion, not a clever mind and solid independence.

The shelter was set up with two large pens, one for the males and one for the females, taking up the majority of the building and a collection of cages lined up against the wall to the right. Midnight preferred to keep the cats in the larger pens, where they had more room to roam and access to the enclosure outside, but some felines didn’t get along with, or were picked on, by the others and had to be separated. Providing the score of cats with food, fresh water, and clean litter boxes had become a daunting task within the past few months, but Midnight quickly began her chores, pausing often to stroke the cats that brushed against her, and stopping occasionally to fight back nausea or to stop her trembling.

The big cats were exceptionally quiet today. Instead of an intimidating growl or the occasional swipe of extended claws, even the bad-mannered cats treated her with silent interest. She would have thought their behavior was out of concern, but her logic refused to credit these creatures with the cognitive abilities such a reaction would have required. Montiago, a black leopard whose attitude was usually as dark as his fur, brushed against her and actually allowed her to stroke him with tentative fingers. The cougars, Aspen and Willow, dropped their aloofness and watched her with kind eyes.

Even Lioness, who was always sweet-tempered, seemed particularly protective. She trailed Midnight around the compound, uttering little worried growls whenever her caretaker stumbled. When Midnight leaned against the wall for a moments rest the lion actually pushed against her legs in an attempt to make her stand, as though afraid she would not be able to continue if she remained idle for too long.

She was rather afraid of such an outcome herself.

When she had finished raking out the pen, she turned to leave and found Lioness crouched in front of the door. She took a step closer and the golden cat uttered a low growl, though the viscous sound did not reach her features.

[Asila]

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Midnight watched the upset lion carefully. The bunching of muscles or another snarl could signal a sudden attack.

Lioness just returned her searching gaze, the golden eyes pleading.

She realized that all evidence otherwise was wrong. This cat was actually worried about her. She tried another approach. “I’ll be fine, Lioness. I just need to finish the last pen, then I’ll rest.”

The animal looked uncertain. “I promise.” She asserted, and Lioness slunk off to the side, not looking entirely convinced.

She couldn’t believe what had just occurred. It seemed as though Lioness, and the other cats, understood what was happening. That couldn’t be possible.

As she carried the last tray of steaks into the last pen, she told herself that it had just become possible. These animals were as aware of her distress as she was of their health and moods.

A loud snarl reminded her that she was no longer aware of her surroundings. Slowly she realized that she had walked into the pen of the one cat who wouldn’t hesitate to maul her. Cinder.

Her mind flashed to a memory of another mistake she had made a year ago, when the local reporters had first shown an interest in her cat sanctuary. “They are beautiful animals,” she had agreed with the curious journalist, “but they deserve a lot of respect. This leopard, for example, weighs little more than I do. However, one hundred and twenty pounds of muscle, when equipped with fangs and two sets of sharp claws, can do a lot of damage.”

They had moved on to the cage of Lioness, who watched them calmly from where she lay in the grass. “Now, imagine a hunter who weighs four times that amount and has the same weapons. If she meant to kill you, she wouldn’t have a difficult time with it. Lioness is tame enough that she would never try to kill me, but I try to make sure I’m out of her pen when she decides that she wants to play.”

Midnight had been about to continue when a crash and snarl had her wheeling toward the pen she had just passed. The journalist screamed and Midnight stumbled as she simultaneously tried to step back from the chaos and leap forward to help her guest.

When her thoughts slammed back on track and the pounding of her heart began to ease, she realized that the red jaguar she had just attained had charged the door of his cage. The journalist had walked too close to the edgy cat.

“What is wrong with it?” The journalist gasped, still backing away from the cage.

Midnight tried to stifle the irritation that flamed in her chest. The reporter just didn’t understand these creatures. She certainly didn’t know what this particular jaguar had been through. Purchased by his previous “trainers” as a cub, Cinder had learned very quickly how to fight. He had first lived in a cage with a vicious pit-bull. When the cat had had enough, he had mauled the creature, to the dismay of its owners. After that, it had been chains, cruelty, and starvation until the jaguar was ruthless enough to replace the prize fighting dog in the pits. Cinder had learned to expect only pain from humans, and suddenly there was something wrong with him for guarding his home when a stranger came near?

She clenched her fists and told herself that the journalist didn’t know anything of Cinder’s brutal past and it was wrong to fault her for her naiveness.

Unfortunately, she was far from sainthood.

[Asila]

“You’ll have to pardon him,” she said stiffly, “his previous owners were cruel to him. When he sees a stranger, he doesn’t see a friend.”

The journalist stared at her as though she wasn’t sure if Midnight was talking about the cat or herself. Perceptive. At least the reporter had something going for her.

The woman murmured a few more questions and quickly put an end to the interview. Midnight had forgotten the incident.

Now, months later, she had made another mistake.

Swiveling to face the growl, she watched the jaguar advance on her. Midnight backed up. “I’m sorry, Cinder. I didn’t mean to invade your territory.” The jaguar only bared his teeth and picked up the pace. The dull chime of the chain link fence behind her signaled the end of her retreat. Midnight straightened and tried to face the angry cat. “Cinder.”

He hesitated, a snarl forming on his lips, then leapt forward.

Midnight dropped into a roll. Cinder crashed into the gate, an echo of that long ago attack. Midnight tried to rise but staggered, the world heaving beneath her feet.

The cat spun and charged. Midnight closed her eyes and braced herself for the attack. A whoosh of air and the scuffle of paws on dirt. Then… nothing. She opened her eyes.

The jaguar towered over her, sides heaving and golden eyes sparking rage. One final growl and he turned, stalking into the shadows of the fallen tree that lay in his pen.

Midnight scrambled to her feet and all but threw herself out the gate. She couldn’t believe how foolish she had been. That jaguar hated people and she had just blundered into his cage. She had refused to acknowledge it before, but her illness was beginning to hinder her ability to take care of these creatures. She had to give them up.

The thought saddened her. She loved her cats, every one of them, from the sweet-tempered tabbies to Cinder, but she was no longer capable of caring for them properly.

She trudged back to her home, feeling depressed and sensing that her life was falling apart around her. It was coming to an end.

Midnight walked back to her house with difficulty, each step seeming as though it took her nowhere, and collapsed onto her couch. I just need to rest…she thought drowsily, I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, then I’ll leave for work. Thank god it was Friday. After tonight, she could rest throughout the weekend. After that…well, she would think about the future when it happened. She didn’t think she would live to see Monday. After over a decade of struggle, her body had finally worn out.

She closed her eyes and gave herself up to her dreams. And her nightmares.

[Asila]

Laughter. Such dark, sadistic laughter, the kind a cartoon villain would envy. “You can’t fight me, Midnight. I have lived through the rise and fall of Rome. I have seen Egypt in all it’s glory. I have been to the fabled city of Atlantis. What are you, a human child, in comparison?”

Midnight shook her head. Age is not a barrier, she chanted to herself. He was older than she, but not better. If he could enslave her, she could escape. “I won’t help you.”

His eyes flared red, the eyes of a demon. She hated that gaze. She took a step back before she could stop herself.

“Then you will die.”

“I don’t care!” she cried out, tears falling from her large, frightened eyes. “I hate you.” This last was a whisper.

The vampire, who had been on the opposite side of the room, appeared before her in a rush that her human eyes couldn’t register. She tried to leap back, but couldn’t even manage to lift a foot from the ground before he grabbed a fistful of her soft black hair and yanked her closer. “You don’t understand your situation,” his low voice rumbled.

She hadn’t known that people could growl. She had heard the phrase in books, but hadn’t thought it possible. He’s not human, she reminded herself. He was a killer, a vampire. He was ruthless, and if she was ever going to escape, she would have to be as well.

The vampire stared at her for a moment, nearly nose to nose with her, as though he could hear the thoughts flickering through her mind. Maybe he could. “My blood is destroying you. If you were human, you would have died quickly. Since you are a witch, your blood will fight the destruction, struggle to keep itself alive. It will succeed for a short while, but it won’t last forever. Soon your body will wear out, and you will be mine. One way or another. If you fight, you will only suffer.”

Suddenly, she was angry. Did he really think she was so weak? She didn’t want to serve him, which was the only other option he had left her. She didn’t want to be like him, a vampire, and never see the sun again, or kill people for her own survival. If her only other choice was a slow death, she would have to take it. As much as she feared death, she feared this creature more.

“You’ll change your mind.” he hissed, confirming the girl’s suspicions on his ability to read her thoughts. “You will chose eternal life. People always do.”

“You said I wasn’t human,” Midnight shot back. She immediately regretted it. His expression became thunderous. He threw her against the wall, an act that was to him only an idle toss. Midnight’s head struck the stone, blinding her with a white flash of pain. She didn’t cry out. She had always been a silent child, and the trait didn’t fail her now. A yelp or a scream would have satisfied the jerk. She hit the ground and didn’t get up. It was getting darker, but the door still stood open, and the vampire hadn’t left the room. She hadn’t thought it could get any darker.

“You’re losing consciousness,” the vampire said, a sadistic grin spreading across his elegant features. “You may not be human, but you are no stronger than one. Don’t let your witch heritage go to your head. It won’t save you from me.”

She wanted to tell him to practice what he preached, but she couldn’t talk anymore, could hardly think. Then she blacked out, and it didn’t matter.

[Asila]

Midnight woke up with a palpable sense of dread. Soon your body will wear out, and you will be mine. She had forgotten that conversation. She had thought it was over, that soon she would die and the vampire would no longer be a part of her life. With that memory came the realization that it wasn’t over yet. Her vampire would come for her one last time, and though her mind was strong, her body wasn’t.

She wasn’t so sure that she would win the upcoming confrontation. She sat up abruptly and stared out the window, dislodging the cat on her stomach, but saw no vampire. Not even a ghoul. She laughed nervously at her own paranoia. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t dark yet. For now she was safe.

She sighed and glanced at the clock that sat on the entertainment center. 5:17. She was three hours late for work. She wondered why Cassandra hadn’t called. Then she felt stupid for expecting her too. Her manager had been ordering her to take a medical leave. Midnight had insisted that she needed the money and was fit enough to work, but her boss had only looked at her with open disbelief. When she didn’t show up, Cassandra had probably just assumed that she had taken her advice.

Midnight got up and tried to decide whether or not she should leave for work. She could still get four and a half hours in, an extra fifty-eight dollars that she could do without. She wasn’t in financial trouble, she had nearly ten thousand dollars sitting in her bank account, left-over earnings from a successful novel. She didn’t have to go to work today. If they had needed her, someone would have called.

Midnight had one other choice. To watch the sun set and wait for her vampire to arrive. With that thought in mind, she surged to her feet, ignoring the fatigue that continued to drag at her body. She snatched the car keys from the end table and went to her car. If Cassandra chose to protest her arrival, she would deal with her when she arrived. She would rather try to work when she felt too sick to stand than wait for a demonic immortal to arrive at her house any moment. Cassandra would be frustrated, but Midnight could deal with that. Somehow, the fury of her supervisor just didn’t compete with the threat of vampiric retribution.

Fancy that. Midnight walked out to her car, feeling as though she were striding down death row. Her illness had taken a back seat, quailed by a sense of purpose that hadn’t returned to her since she had begun to plot her initial escape twelve years before.

When the vampire came for her, she would fight. In the meantime, she might as well make things difficult for him. She tuned into the local rock station and turned up the music, letting fury and defiance scream their message through her speakers.

[Asila]

***

The darkness lurked just outside of the brightly lit parking lot, though a few stubborn shadows breached the orbs of light thrown by the streetlamps, as though annoyed by the loss of territory and determined to get it back.

Cassandra had not reacted well. In fact, the supervisor had refused to let Midnight work. “I’m sorry, Midnight, but if you won’t go to a doctor and take medical leave, and I’m sure that any physician would tell you that you needed at least that if not hospitalization, I’m going to have to let you go. You can’t work like this. Why won’t you go to a doctor?” Midnight had only shaken her head. Cassandra could never understand that her illness could not be cured by modern medicine. To her boss, she must appear to be ridiculously stubborn… or morbidly afraid of needles.

Cassandra had sighed. “I’m sorry, Midnight. I really am.”

She didn’t need apologies, Midnight thought as she gazed into the black sky, the stars barely visible through the obnoxious wash of artificial light. She hated those street lamps. They didn’t stave off anything except harmless shadows. She wished the natural darkness could claim this place once more. At least it was real.

Most people, the ones who believed themselves sane, wouldn’t agree with that sentiment. The night was dangerous, they thought. Darkness was for predators and criminals, not rational, ordinary folk. Besides, the dark was simply inconvenient. Who could see through such blackness?

All practicalities set aside, she would rather have the faint, true light of the stars to guide her steps than the harsh, unnatural white light of the lamps suspended above her.

She set out across the lonely expanse of black top with every intention of leaving the factory quickly. Part of her was relieved she didn’t have to remain there, among such simple, squabbling women and dull, arrogant men. It was all so superficial. There was no meaning to these lives, save for the quest to spread a particularly delicious rumor or the all-consuming desire to start a war over a petty transgression. Most people were so shallow she couldn’t stand it.

Maybe she was being too harsh. Midnight considered this option fleetingly before she discarded it. It may have been partially true. She had always suffered from what she called a “severe mistrust of the human race”, or even misanthropy on a bad day, but she refused to believe that the problem lay in her high expectations for people. Was it too much to expect a parent to place the welfare of their children before the whims of their current lover? Was it too taxing a command to expect people to accept the blame for their mistakes instead of plastering it on the most convenient target? Was thinking for oneself or fighting for ideals you believed in too much to expect from the race she was born into?

Midnight was beginning to believe that it was. She was so sick of this conformity and selfishness. She longed for something different, something more to her life than the typical woman’s dream of marriage, a nice home, and a family. That was one life she refused to have any part of.

At least that life was safe, she reminded herself. The supernatural, as fascinating as it was, could be perilous. It wasn’t fair to fault people for choosing not to believe in the remarkable beings that they shared the world with. It was safer that way.

She still thought that there were too many people who deserved to be condemned, even if she choose to forgive the normal ones.

She reached her car, a fuel-efficient nondescript black Toyota, and quickly unlocked the doors. As she slid into the seat she noticed that she had forgotten to lock her passenger’s side door. She frowned and flicked the lock. How long had the door been unlocked? She couldn’t immediately remember the last time she had used the passenger’s seat. Having no family or close friends, she used the seat mostly for freighting cargo. She was almost positive that she hadn’t used that door for nearly three weeks, when a used television set had been her passenger. She would have noticed before now if it had remained unlocked that long. Or maybe not. She was a hopeless dreamer who had missed the turn to her own house on more occasions than she could count.

[Asila]

Midnight shrugged and turned the key in the ignition, knowing that the idea of unlocked doors had never concerned her. She was less likely to remember such a small detail than a person who believed that the world was out to steal their CD player would be. She didn’t believe in ax murderers lurking unseen in the back seat either, so what was such a small security breech to her? She had no faith in the morals of human kind, but she did not feel threatened by them.

She whipped the ‘96 Camry out of the parking lot and sped into the wooded outskirts of the city, trying not to think of what she would find at home.
For a couple of minutes she left the windows down, thrilling in the crisp autumn chill of the air. She loved the desolate cold that crept over the Midwest at this time of year for reasons that she couldn’t entirely understand. Perhaps it was just the change of season that she enjoyed, but she liked to think that the piercing cold in winter called to a part of her that had become as barren and coated with frost as her surroundings soon would be.

Irritated by the depressing thought, she rolled up the windows and continued her drive without the howling of the wind. She turned her mind back to her earlier ponderings on the state of the human race. “I definitely have a qualm with normalcy.” She said aloud, knowing it was true. That was why her job and the average people who worked there bothered her so much. She didn’t want to be one of them.

She had needed the job to help fuel her ambitions, to feed the cats that lived back at her home. All forty-three of them. That task would have been simpler if a dozen of the said felines didn’t weigh as much, or more, than she did. In the end she needed the income that she was pulling in from her factory job and the time she had left over to work on accomplishing her dreams was distressingly short. It was almost enough to make her marry a rich guy with a nice home and start a family.

Almost. Actually, her burdens weren’t nearly enough to drive her to such a fate. What a foolish thought. She laughed at how ludicrous it seemed. She put all of her pride in her strength and independence and wouldn’t give it up for the world, but What If’s were such fun, and she needed the diversion.

Midnight continued her drive among simpler dreams of dragons, corrupted knights, and a peculiar winged cat she had met, and almost died for, a long time ago.

She was lost within the bittersweet memory when the sharp edge of a knife pressed into her throat. She froze, feeling the color drain from her face. She was going to have to rethink her stand on how unlikely it was to find a murderer in the back seat. New evidence concerning the topic had just shown up.

She bit her lip, just barely keeping in the burst of hysterical laughter that had almost bubbled past her lips. This was no time for humor.

“Pull over.” The voice seemed to slide through her head hypnotically, both deep enough to entrance her and smooth enough to ensure the obedience of a furious lion. Vaguely she wondered if he would test her hypothesis, she certainly had the means, but most of her focus lay in struggling to refuse his command. She wondered why her free will had suddenly become so difficult to maintain. She’d never had a problem before. But that voice…

She found her gaze drifting to the rearview mirror. She knew him, somehow. Not the vampire, as she had first thought, but they had met sometime in the past-

The knife bit into her skin and she stifled a curse.

[Asila]

“Keep your eyes on the road, darling.” His voice rumbled in a calm, yet vaguely threatening tone. It reminded her of the contented purr of a very large predator. “I wouldn’t want you to suffer from a crippling accident. You’re going to drive yourself to an early death.” The words were both a warning and a threat.

Midnight bristled at his tone. She could feel the devastating chill that she kept locked within her soul creep through her barriers, steadying her trembling limbs and racing heart. It seemed to coat her panicked mind with ice, stilling all of her desperate thoughts and leaving only cold rationale. She would not let this man win.

“Pull over,” the man repeated, foolishly arrogant. “I have matters I wish to discuss with you.”

“You have nothing of importance to discuss with me.” She said coldly. “I do not know you.” The words were a lie. She remembered now. She had only been eight years old when this man had come to kill Azirath, the cat creature that had been her only friend. Azirath had gotten away and he had turned on her, almost killing her in the cat-creature’s place. The chill that had permeated her mind deepened. She banished the memory. There was no reason to analyze it further. It could not help her now.

The man from her past saw through the lie. “You remember.” he said simply. She hoped he could see the glare she cast frostily at the road ahead through her reflection. It was meant for him.

“Tell me, Midnight,” She flinched at the sound of her name. Rolling from that deep voice it sounded alien, as though it were no longer her own. Somehow he managed to reduce it to nothing more than the darkness it described, with none of the magic she tended to associate with the hour she was named after. His pronunciation of it reminded her of the way a priest would say demon, as though it were a filthy word best avoided. “Have you seen the demon that has corrupted your soul?”

She blinked. It took her a moment to realize that the voice she heard now had not come from her troubled thoughts, but the man who sat behind her. It was only a coincidence, she told herself edgily. No one has the power to read minds. A vampire could, her thoughts whispered through her mind in an eerie, sibilant tone. She frowned. That little tidbit of information did not apply here. She set it aside.

Even through her discomfort, she managed an acidic reply. “You‘ll have to be more specific. There is more than one creature who will meet that description. You yourself are one of them.” Midnight held her head high and mocked his pompous tone. To her satisfaction, she pulled it off flawlessly.

Her captor was not amused. The blade sliced further into her neck. She clutched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. She refused to give this man the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain, and so she didn’t make a sound at all. Blood slid down the inside of her throat, though she dare not swallow for fear of causing more damage to her windpipe. She noticed that her neck and the front of her shirt were also sticky with the life substance. This meeting would soon become fatal. It was time to end it. Expression grim, Midnight pressed down on the accelerator. In a few seconds, they were nearing eighty.

“What are you doing?” His low voice was threaded with nervousness now. Good. He was beginning to realize that his hostage wasn’t the only one in the vehicle whose fate rested in the judgment of another.
“Beware the woman who has nothing to lose,” She murmured, watching the speedometer hit ninety. The knife continued to sink into her throat and she was having trouble breathing around the blood and steel. She was beginning to feel dizzy. “You will remember who it is you’re dealing with.”

Message imparted, she swerved into a tree. Her nightmare’s curse was the last thing she heard before her world spiraled into darkness.

[Asila]

***

Rav leapt from the car the moment it shuddered to a halt. That crazy bitch, he thought with a combination of irritation and respect. He had dealt with dozens of humans who found themselves mixed up in the mythical realm, many in situations similar to this one, and she was the first to threaten his life. Of course, she wasn’t entirely human.

He watched the car warily, half expecting her to burst from the vehicle in a fit of fury and go for his eyes, teeth and nails bared. He had to be cautious around this one. Had he not seized the wheel and guided the car through a break in the trees they would both be dead now. The girl was entirely unpredictable.

Nothing happened. The car was still, resting in the middle of the cornfield like a sleek black beetle. There was no sound from the vehicle except the monotonous hum of the idling engine.

Rav frowned. Their rush through the tree line and across the furrowed field had been bone jarring, but she shouldn’t have been harmed. Unless…

With an oath, he lunged for the car, remembering the knife that he had used in his attempt to ensure Midnight’s obedience. He hadn’t thought he’d put enough pressure on it to cause more damage than a shallow cut, but she had baited him, and he didn’t know how much harm he had caused when he jerked the knife back as he lunged for the steering wheel.

He yanked the driver’s side door open. Midnight was slumped against the wheel, her neck splashed with crimson and the front of her dark blue shirt now black with blood. Her face was as pale as ivory.

He pulled her from the car and lay her out on the ground. Her head lolled back against his arm, giving him a sickening view of the damage he had caused her. Blood spurted weakly from the gaping wound in her neck, and he thought with an overwhelming sense of guilt that he had killed her. This was not going as he had planned. Despite what the paranoid girl had thought, he had not intended to kill her. Only coerce her cooperation.

Don’t be a fool, he coached himself. She wasn’t dead. Her injury would have stopped bleeding if she had died, but she was fading fast and if he didn’t act now he would lose her. Along with his last connection to the monster he hunted.

Placing his hand against the wound, he used his magic to quickly repair the major arteries in her neck. He immediately noticed that there was something wrong with her. Something besides the injury. An imbalance of some sort. It seemed as though her own magic were turning against her.

Rav put the observation aside. He could look into it later. Right now he had a job to salvage. Quickly, he closed the gap in her esophagus, just barely mending it, so that she would be able to eat liquid foods, if nothing else. He did not close the wound. This woman did not deserve the courtesy. She had allied herself with the creature who was responsible for turning this world against his people, and he had no intention of helping her. He would have let her die if he hadn’t needed her to get to the vampire.

No, that was a lie. He would have saved her anyway, just once, because he owed the brave-hearted little girl she had once been that mercy. He couldn’t continue to think like that. Any display of sentiment was dangerous. If he had healed her completely, she would have known that he cared for her and would use that knowledge to her advantage. She was not stupid, as he had found out the hard way, and would suspect something if she woke without a scratch. He had a feeling that she would make things even more difficult for him if she knew that the only reason he had volunteered for this mission was so that he could save her.

[Seven]

Cruel, cruel woman with your cruel, cruel cliffhanger! But I love the action-drama of this story. It jumps right into all the interesting suspenseful parts, making you want more. And the anecdotes, like with the cats, I think it was really good, an interesting way of getting to know her.

[Asila]

I'm glad you like it...but there is so much more I want to add! More imagery, more anecdotes, a handful of everyday events that would feature more of the cat sanctuary and what takes place there! I know that Jade hasn't shown up yet, but she and Midnight met when Jade showed up as a volunteer...oh, there is so much I have left out!

*becoming passionate now* There is so much more to even this beginning stage of Midnight's story! This all just seems like an outline to me! Should I finally get it finished, the first thing I would do is rewrite it!

Sorry, sorry, I'm getting excited. I am just beginning to remember what was meant to take place beyond the thirty pages I have written, and believe me, this story just keeps getting better.

And as for cliff hangers, I'm afraid you'll be seeing quite a few. The action only continues to pick up from here...(which kinda makes me sad, since I really like imagery and thoughtful reverie...but that is just the type of thing that I can add more of if I ever finish this thing in the first place. )

Ick, it's getting late. I'll have to start adding the next pages tomorrow morning.,,