The Darkest Hour

[Asila]

If Rav had learned anything about Midnight Farland, it was that she had a sharp mind and reacted viciously to threats. A difficult combination.

He walked around to the passenger’s side of the car and quickly reclined the seat. Returning to Midnight, he lifted her into his arms and set her down on the flattened bucket seat. He took a moment to survey her. With those intense dark eyes closed, she looked almost approachable. In sleep she was beautiful, with high, though softly molded, cheekbones and delicately tapered chin. Her hair was a reflective black that effortlessly caught the moonlight in streaks of silver. She had a slight glow to her, similar to the shimmering aura of the faerie folk. He frowned at the observation, but attributed it to the radiant beauty Midnight possessed, so different from the sharp-angled facial structure and severe perfection that humanity coveted.

It baffled him, how different a person could look in unconsciousness. Her visage when she had been driving home had been harsh. There had only been darkness in her then. When he had pulled his blade on her, her dark gaze had turned almost vampiric in it’s savagery.

Now, with all expression smoothed from her face, she looked innocent. Just like the girl he had almost killed all those years before.

She’s not that girl anymore, logic reminded him. She surrendered her soul to a monster. She would destroy you if she could. She had proved that to him herself, when she had attempted to end both their lives in a collision. All to guard that damn vampire. He couldn’t trust her.

Rav climbed behind the steering wheel and sped toward Midnight’s secluded home. He shouldn’t have taken this mission. He was still attached to this girl. He felt as though he should repent for the cruelty he had shown her when she had done nothing to deserve it. Yet he had wanted to see for himself that Midnight had become a monster. If he had allowed another Knight to take this mission he never would have known the truth. He would have spent his life wondering just what had become of Midnight Farland, if she was indeed the monster or it’s harried victim.

His conscience argued that there was a chance her humanity had remained intact and she wasn’t in league with the vampire. He still felt an immeasurable amount of guilt for the crime he had committed against her when she was young. He just couldn’t believe that the brave child he remembered, who had risked her life for a creature that she had no doubt believed to be a friend, would turn on humanity.

The logical portion of his mind reminded him that his guilt could very well be what had convinced him of her innocence. He shouldn’t have taken this mission. His faith in her could cloud his judgment. He wanted her to be innocent, and for that reason was the wrong man for the job.

Yet, it was just because he had not given up hope in her innocence that he had taken it.

By the time Rav turned onto Midnight’s long gravel driveway he was hopelessly lost in an inner debate. He almost plowed right through the wall of magic that suddenly loomed before him. He slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left. The car leaned on two wheels, but slid to a sideways halt without tipping over. Thank the entities above for gravel. He wasn’t so sure the maneuver would have been so successful on blacktop.

[Asila]

Rav glanced at his passenger. She had slid against the passenger door but was otherwise unmoved. He sighed in relief. When he looked up, the fierce faces of two stone gargoyles glared back at him. One prowled closer, but the other remained in place and watched him with wicked intensity. It had what appeared to be an archaic symbol upon it’s forehead, but it didn’t match up with any of the characters he knew.

The closer gargoyle snarled, effectively claiming his full attention. They were of an odd make, this pair of gargoyles. Instead of the typical squat, crouching guard dog with demon wings, these creatures resembled long limbed panthers with feathered wings and tufted tail. In the dark, their eyes glowed an eerie yellow versus the traditional red.

“Midnight,” Rav muttered, becoming alarmed. These stone guardians were not your run of the mill gargoyles. Instead of crumbling cement or limestone, Midnight’s creations were made of black granite and moved with uncommon grace. The mobile gargoyle fixed him with a calculating gaze and he had to add intelligence, another rare feature, to the list. A battle with the girl’s guardians would not be painless.

At the sound of her name, Midnight frowned in her sleep but did not wake. Rav didn’t have time for this. That gargoyle would be on him in moments and his most conveniant defense was unconscious.

A shadow stirred in the oak canopy overhead. “I could dispatch them for you.” His Familiar’s offer vibrated though the tension, and the offending gargoyle paused, looking up with a malignant stare.

“No, Zelinril.” He spoke in the silent fashion of all magical creatures. “There is a better way. Besides, I do not wish to destroy them. They are not evil, they are only doing their job.”

Zelinril sent a message of silent understanding, and Rav focused on Midnight. He submersed himself in her thoughts and was immediately confronted by the sense that something was terribly wrong. The sensation was similar to the unease he’d felt when healing her, but this time, with his mind lost within hers, the feeling was overwhelming. Instead of the still darkness or soft colors and images he had expected to find, there was a seething blackness, a low buzzing, and a hundred weak spears of light. It seemed to him as though millions of black hornets were swarming an orb of light and slowly smothering it. He was having trouble holding himself together throughout the tumult, but as he considered pulling out the light flickered, expanded, and he found himself within Midnight’s true thoughts.

“Midnight,” he called out to her, wanting to leave before the swarming darkness returned. Her thoughts brightened in surprise, then rapidly clouded with suspicion. She remained mistrustful of everything, even while locked deep within her own mind.

“Midnight, I need you to wake up.” Rav didn’t wait for her response. Instead he returned to the outside world and pulled her with him.

He found himself staring into a pair of exhausted, and irritated, eyes. She still didn’t seem entirely awake. Good. For once, she might not fight him

“I need you to calm your guardians.” He spoke the words out loud, but projected them into her mind. He laced the order with warmth and comfort in an effort to gain her trust and, to his surprise, she actually responded.

[Asila]

“Stand down, Freelance.” Midnight spoke the words with authority. He frowned. She sounded fully alert now, and she was willingly helping him? He hadn’t expected his projected order to be such a success.

The gargoyle hesitated, staring at him as though it would love nothing more than to rip him apart.

“It’s all right,” Midnight assured the doubtful statue. “He’s a friend.” Still, the gargoyle would not back down. It snarled and took a cautious step forward. “Really, Freelance.” Midnight continued, sounding as though the creature’s disobedience didn’t surprise her. “If he had intended to kill me, I’d already be dead.”

In Rav’s opinion, that was the wrong thing to tell a blood-thirsty guardian who would love nothing more than to tear him apart for the slightest transgression against it’s mistress.

For a long moment the gargoyle refused to either back down or press an attack. Instead it watched him, intelligence flickering behind those glowing amber eyes. Then it turned and returned to it’s post beside the second gargoyle. Once again it appeared there were two regal stone statues guarding the driveway, one from the left, one from the right, and nothing more.

He pulled forward and shivered when the questing magic of the powerful shield he had earlier sensed brushed over him. He got the distinct impression that the spell would have killed him as surely as the gargoyles would have if he had meant her any harm.

He stopped just in front of her home, a small structure that was styled after the larger Victorian houses. It was painted a deep red with black accents, a theme that echoed around a couple of smaller structures in the yard. To the right, on the farthest edge of the lawn, was a line of very large pens that he knew didn’t serve as your typical kennel.

Midnight opened the car door as soon as the vehicle rolled to a stop. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them. “We need to talk.” He said flatly, trying to decide just how he was going to begin…

But instead of pausing the way he had expected her too, she slammed her door shut and stalked to her house. Raven growled in irritation and followed. He caught up with his quarry just as she walked through the front door. He followed without waiting for an invitation and silently watched her hang up her jacket on the hooks beside the door.

She kneeled and began to untie her sneakers. Black, he noted. Dark like her home, her clothes, her hair and her eyes. He wondered if her alliances would be included on that list.

“You can sleep on the couch. We’ll talk in the morning. I don’t have the energy right now.” She drew in a shallow breath between each short sentence. He would have suspected her of stalling if her exhaustion hadn’t quavered in her voice. Her hands were shaking as she pulled off each shoe, and her breathing was labored. She’d had a rough night, he could vouch for that himself, but his attack in the car shouldn’t have weakened her this much. Not if she was as strong as she had once proven herself to be.

“Stop staring.” She looked up at him, meeting his puzzled gaze with her intense one. “I hate how people stare at me, as though I’m the newest and most interesting novelty at a traveling freak show.” She flung herself to her feet as though anxious to get away from him, then stumbled into the wall. She held her head in her hands and gasped for air. She was shaking violently now.

[Asila]

“You’re ill.” Rav reached out for her, intending to provide support since she seemed to be on the verge of collapse, but she feebly pushed him away.

“Don’t. If you pick me up, I think I’ll be sick.”

Looking at her, he didn’t doubt it. Her pallor was gray with a sickly green tint that didn’t speak well for her stomach.

Midnight shivered and slowly sank to her knees. “Just give me a moment,” she said, her voice weak.

“You don’t need a moment, you need rest.” He swooped down and swept her from the floor.

She closed her eyes. “Whatever…it’s your shirt.”

He smiled bitterly at her valiant attempt at humor. She was suffering, and still she tried to lighten the mood. It seemed to him that she had tried the joke to put them both at ease. Defiance was more her style, and it seemed to prove his doubt of the girl’s morals wrong when she would suppress her true nature to make things easier on him.

He wondered what had changed Midnight’s attitude toward him, then decided it didn’t matter. All he needed to know was that her compliance would make his job easier.

He didn’t know where to find her room, but the hallway to his left was the probable place to look. He glanced through the door of the first room, but this one only held wall to wall shelves that were packed with hundreds of books. In the middle of the room was a sturdy oak table with ornate dragons carved into it’s woodwork and a silver laptop resting on it’s surface. Through the next door was a bathroom painted in vibrant amethyst and equipped with a deep, claw-footed bathtub. Then he found a mostly empty room that held a simple set of furniture and a full-sized bed. It lacked the color of the rest of the house. The walls were a blinding shade of white, though a sketch of a warring phoenix and a winged lion was scrawled across the paint of one wall in faint, silver pencil marks. Close, but the room didn’t feel lived in. He tried the final door and found success.

Midnight’s bedroom carried on the same theme as the exterior of her home, but took it further. The walls were a rich, passionate crimson. The carpeting a plush black and the ceiling painted to match. The light fixture in the center of the ceiling was all laced chains and red crystal, as elegant as a chandelier but scaled to the size of the room.

He laid Midnight on a bed outfitted in burgundy sheets and a thick, velvety black comforter. He wished he could spare a moment to study the room further. He had only begun to take in the dark elegance of the place. Artfully carved furniture still crouched at the edge of his vision, fierce statues observed from the shadows, and there was an open door through which he had caught a glimpse of crisp, refreshing green when he had walked in.

This isn’t a fucking tour, Rav berated himself angrily, I’m here to press this woman for information, not to admire her sense of style.

She didn’t open her eyes after he set her down. She seemed to have fallen asleep as soon as she hit the comforter. Raven looked at her for a second, then pulled a folded fleece blanket from where it had rested across the foot of the bed and covered her with it.

He turned abruptly and flowed from the room. Despite Midnight’s gracious invitation, he would not stay in her home and wait for her to wake. The evidence against her had altered, and he had to report back to the Council.

[Asila]

*Just a note before I continue. I never wrote exactly what happened when Rav returned to his world during this short interval. He basically goes back to talk to the King and his favored(usually the most powerful) Knights. They are the ones who assign these assassination attempts on other magical beings. It is the job of the Knights to retain a certain degree of balance in this world. I'd continue, but you will find out more should I ever get to that point in the story.

What's important is that Rav returns and the Council convinces him that he has been deceived by the 'demon witch' and must return to nuetralize/interrogate her before time runs out. And time is running out, for the King, for the infamous as-of-yet-unnamed vampire, and Midnight. When he confronts Midnight again, he is not happy..

Now, back to the story! We will meet Jade and Azirath, and things will be less life-threatening for a few hours...

[Asila]

As soon as he stepped outside, Zelinril swooped down to greet him. He had felt his Familiar’s presence at the edge of his mind throughout his stay in Midnight’s home, and he wondered what the griffon thought of the girl they had been sent to interrogate.

Zelinril looked at him with incredulous violet eyes. “She’s dying.” Rav heard the anger in Zelinril’s voice. They had been misled, and he had almost killed the vampire’s victim, a girl dying from a mysterious disease that the immortal had probably caused, in the belief that she was his ally.

“Yes.” He agreed with the griffon’s spoken question. He found himself wondering why the simple fact had filled him with such an overwhelming tide of grief.

***

Midnight woke wondering why she wasn’t dead. Her last memory had been of catapulting toward a tree, it’s trunk looming ahead as inevitably as fate. She couldn’t have missed it, and there was no way she could have survived a collision with a tree at the speed she had been going. How could she be lying here in her own bed as though nothing had happened?

As her memories of the past night began to clarify, she remembered the knife held to her throat and the sharp pain that resulted when it had sunk into her neck. She lifted a hand to her throat tentatively, not really understanding why she couldn't feel anything. As her fingers brushed the smooth skin of her throat her hand stilled. It was healed...but by whom?

She froze, thought dredging up an important question. If she was here, where was the man who had nearly killed her? As far from here as possible, if fortune had any hold on her life. Always a pessimist, Midnight couldn’t bring herself to hope. Fortune had made a point of ignoring her. If anything good had happened within her life it was because she had made it so. Nothing was ever given to her, and she could not believe that her would-be murderer had left of his own free will.

That negative assessment of her attacker had her own thoughts clamoring in outrage. No, that wasn’t right. She remembered a kind voice that had led her back from the darkness. She had woken and calmed Freelance as he had asked. In return he had helped her reach her bed and caused her no further harm. She didn’t understand why he had attacked her, but he was not evil. Midnight, from past experience, knew the difference.

With a soft groan, she sat up in bed. Where was he now? The sun was shining, and she closed her eyes against it’s brilliant glare. She wondered what time it was. Or what day it was.

“Midnight? I should kill that Knight. I thought you would die, you were asleep for so long.”

Another voice from the past. This just kept getting better.

“Why is it that whenever you show up, someone tries to decapitate me?” Midnight cautiously opened her eyes, but the sunbeams were still intolerable to the light-sensitive orbs and she left them slitted. She could barely make out his form, but she could clearly hear Azirath’s sorrowful sigh. So he had a soul after all. During some of her more bitter moments, she had convinced herself that he hadn't. He had abandoned her.

“I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did,” She heard the anger fade from her words. Even though he had wronged her, she had forgiven him a long time ago. She didn’t know how many times she had wished for this meeting, but even under these circumstances she was glad he had finally come. “but that’s all in the past now, and I’m glad we were able to meet again. Even if it cost me a pint of blood.” She added wryly.

[Asila]

Defying the sun, Midnight widened her eyelids and took in Azirath for the first time in nearly twenty years. He was human at the moment. She studied him, noting how much older he looked now. Her childhood friend, grown up and as devilishly handsome as he had always been, even when young. His eyes were tilted in such a way that he usually looked mischievous no matter what his mood. He seemed very somber now, though. She had only seen him like that once before, and that night didn‘t end well. It seemed ominous to her, that darkness in his green gaze.

“How long was I asleep?” She asked warily, wondering when he had arrived.

“You were unconscious when I got here at midnight last night. It’s past five in the afternoon now.”

She closed her eyes in relief. “I thought it might have been days.”

He was silent for a moment, though she could almost feel his gaze. “You were soaked in blood. That bastard left you here to die, didn’t he?”

She opened her eyes again, tracing her fingers over the smooth skin of her healed throat and taking note of the loose white T-shirt and fleece pajama pants she was wearing now, all items that she hadn’t been wearing when her visitor from the night before had placed her on this bed. “You did this?”

He nodded. She let her gaze wander toward the ceiling, touched by his kindness but distracted by his earlier words. That bastard left you here to die, didn’t he? If only she knew. The actions of that man were beyond her.

When she looked back to Azirath again there was an odd expression on his face, as though he were seeing her for the first time and had noticed that something was wrong. “What has happened to you since we parted all those years ago?”

She was saved from a long and difficult answer by the sound of crunching gravel and the roaring of a large engine.

Azirath leapt to his feet and ran to answer the door. Midnight scrambled out of bed and followed as quickly as her protesting limbs would allow. Honestly, the way he was behaving one would think their lives depended on who stood outside her door.

Then again, with the way things were going, the idea seemed less ridiculous and more probable.

She caught up with Azirath in time to pull him away from the door. “It’s my home. I’ll answer.”

He began to protest and she promptly interrupted him. “You’re over-reacting. There is only one creature powerful enough to harm us, and it’s in a tomb waiting for nightfall.”

With that, she spun and opened the door before the cat-creature could stop her. As she had suspected, there was no demon on her doorstep. Instead stood a familiar figure clad in baggy cargo pants of the gothic style and a green hooded sweatshirt that featured a screaming eagle and matched both the stitching of her pants and the emerald of her eyes. Her hair was a blond so pale that white seemed a better description and she had streaked it with black. She wore it short and heavily layered, so that the shortest strands reached no further than the top of her ears and the longest locks hung just below her chin.

Midnight glanced back at Azirath in surprise. Jade’s hair matched his down to the ebony highlights, and their eyes were of the same lovely emerald shade. She didn’t understand why she hadn’t noticed the resemblance earlier. It seemed so obvious now, but in hindsight, everything did.

[Seven]

Oh the suspense! Are Azirath and Jade brother and sister? What about Rav? Should I speculate if Midnight is going to fall in love with one of these two men? I am SO forcing you to finish this story, may I remind you?

[Asila]

Oh no, sounds like I'll have a second job this summer...

Anyway, you'll soon have questions about Azirath. I revealed something vaguely startling about him within the pages I wrote. A couple things, really, that I fear I did not explain well. I'll try to add to the pages as I post them, to clarify, but the problem is that Midnight does not understand a lot of this herself. It's odd when I try to switch between her and Rav, because their understanding of what is going on in the world is so different...

And while Jade and Azirath are connected, they are not relatives. Should I ever rewrite this, I would build up to the upcoming revelation more thoroughly, but I fear that for now you'll have to tolerate a certain degree of vagueness.

As for falling in love, have fun guessing! I stubbornly refuse to give any more hints!

Now, I shall get to work on the next pages...

[Asila]

Midnight looked back at Jade and suddenly noticed the strained expression on her face. The teenager had made it her goal to never again shed tears in front of another person, and the brittle expression she wore now was the closest the girl ever came to sobbing. When Midnight hugged her, Jade returned the embrace fiercely, her small frame quaking with what she knew was fury.

“Come in,” Midnight said softly, “and tell me what happened.”

Jade straightened and wiped at her dry eyes. Miraculously, her mascara did not smear, though the abuse left her eye-shadow faded. “I’ve got to bring my stuff in first.” She looked back at the driveway. Midnight followed her gaze to a large black truck with a grinning white skull on it’s hood. The bed of the vehicle was piled with laden boxes and a young man with a spiked Mohawk in electric blue leaned against the driver’s side door and observed them.

“A friend?” Midnight smiled and waved to the edgy driver, who visibly relaxed and saluted her.

Jade nodded. “That would be Zane. My mother hates him.”

“That would be reason enough for me to like him.”

The teenager grinned at this. “That‘s what I told her.” She walked over to the truck and began unloading boxes.
Midnight tried to follow suit, but Jade wouldn’t allow it. “Midnight, you look unwell. Zane and I can carry everything in.” She stared off to the side. “Who’s your friend?”

Azirath had strolled forward and picked up a box. Suck up, Midnight thought, as he smiled charmingly at Jade. She answered shortly, unsure of her explanation. “Azirath. We’re childhood friends.”

“He looks cool.” Jade held out her hand. “I’m Jade.” Azirath shook her hand. The moment they touched an odd expression came over Jade’s visage and Azirath stared at her in open shock. As quickly as it happened, they stepped back and preceded to carry the boxes into the house.

Midnight wondered what she had just witnessed. She knew that when it came to the magical realm, odd happenings were seldom imagined. She would have to talk to Jade about what had passed between her and Azirath. She was beginning to sense that the girl had become part of her world, not just her home.

Prohibited from lifting boxes, she chose instead to station herself in the white room and help put some of the items away. Jade sighed, exasperated with the older woman‘s reluctance to take perfectly good advice, and Midnight couldn’t stop her lips from lifting slightly in amusement.

In the space of half an hour, the floor was cluttered with Jade’s belongings. Zane lowered the last box on the end of the bed. “I better go. I told Trav that I’d pick him up at six.”

Jade nodded. “All right. Thanks for the help, Zane. I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll come back right after I carve up your stepfather’s car.”

“I have a torch and a chainsaw I could donate to the cause,” Midnight said in a tone of voice that was only slightly more cheerful than the joke required.

The two teenagers laughed. Zane nodded his approval at Midnight. “You’ll be all right, Jade.” He said as he turned to walk out the door.

[Asila]

“I know.” Jade watched him go, then turned to dig through a box filled with paper wrapped objects. She appeared to be immersed in thought.

Azirath watched them unpack for a while, no doubt feeling at a loss. He probably didn’t recognize half the items they pulled out of the boxes and wouldn’t know where to place everything else. In the end, he Shifted back to his cat form and, yawning, curled up on an empty patch of floor and fell asleep.

Midnight stared at him in horror. Surely he knew better than to reveal his true form to a human! Jade turned and Midnight froze, not knowing how she would explain the gigantic winged cat in the center of the room.

To her relief and bewilderment, Jade only smiled and ran an admiring hand through his shining white fur. Azirath opened a single green eye and Jade nodded, going back to the box of books she had been sorting through.

Somehow, they had just spoken to each other. This whole situation just kept getting more and more bizarre. Midnight didn’t remark. She opened another box and began to sort through the clothes that had been hastily thrown together. She was too tired to make sense of this now. Besides, the answers would come to her whether she chased them or not. They always did.
Midnight slid the last shirt onto it’s hanger and turned to Jade, who was busy setting out a varied collection of dragon figures. At the front of the hoard was the jade dragon that had started the collection, Midnight’s first gift to the thirteen-year-old girl that had shown up on her doorstep for the first time three years ago.

Midnight looked away from the sculpture and back to Jade, but the sorrowful joy she had felt stayed with her. Jade was with her now, but she wondered what act of cruelty had finally driven her to run from home. Carefully, she asked. “Jade, you have been talking of leaving your mom for a couple of months now. What finally decided you?”

Jade turned to Midnight, meeting her gaze head on. “I don’t want to talk about it. I wouldn’t make it halfway through the story without destroying something.”

Midnight grinned wryly. “I know better than to argue with that.”

Jade’s expression softened. “I still feel bad about your window…and the lamp I smashed it with.”

Midnight shrugged. “I’d been thinking of getting a new bay window with a stained glass border for a while. You just decided me.”

The girl studied her for a moment, sadness suddenly replacing the sheepish humor in her expression. She turned away, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Midnight reached for her young friend.

Jade immediately brushed the tear away. “Nothing. Just a moment of weakness.”

Midnight frowned, but didn’t push her. Jade didn’t want sympathy or pity, and she definitely didn‘t want to be analyzed. What she needed most was space and quiet acceptance. It was one of the reasons they got along so well. Midnight reacted to crisis the same way.

Yet it vexed her that so much was left unspoken. One mystery she could leave alone to sort itself out. But there were three unanswered questions here, not just one. She wanted to know what connection existed between Azirath and Jade, what had driven the girl to Midnight’s house this time, and why she seemed so distraught; for she sensed that her usual issues at home were not the cause for her uncharacteristic display of emotion.

[Asila]

Alone, it was enough to drive her to brink of insanity. Add in her childhood assassin’s most recent attack, the sudden appearance of Azirath after eighteen years of silence, and her disturbing trust in the previously noted assassin and Midnight felt her mind spinning in a desperate search for answers. She slumped against the wall, suddenly dizzy.

“Midnight?” Jade placed a tentative hand on her arm. “Maybe you should rest. You look exhausted, and it won’t take me long to finish.”

She nodded mutely and drifted to the sanctuary of her own room in silent confusion.

***

Light fingers trailed across the side of her face. Midnight frowned slightly, unaccustomed to the sensation. The digits slid down to her exposed throat and paused, as if puzzled, over her quickening pulse. She felt fear race down her limbs in a tingling wash of ice.

The vampire...

She wrenched herself into awareness and threw a punch at the stranger before her conscious thoughts had time to register that it wasn't who she had thought. It was the assassin from earlier. Or rather the Knight from earlier, since Azirath’s term, however unusual, was probably the correct one. She didn’t understand it but trusted that he did. This man was more a part of Azirath’s world than her own.

He only caught her blow by snatching her arm at the wrist. She stood still, every muscle tensed, and tried to decide if she should fight to free her arm or settle for a more dignified glare.
The cursed man grinned, and she found herself leaning toward the former option. “Do you always wake up fighting?”

She hated him for that amused tone. He'd startled her, and as the fear faded from her system it was rapidly replaced by fury. Anger was her inevitable reaction to fear. Besides, after nearly killing him once, she’d hoped he would show some respect. “Only when I’m furious,” She snarled, trying to yank her arm back.

Refusing to relinquish her arm, he only let the momentum pull him closer. She stopped breathing. She knew her expression was one of open surprise, but for once she couldn’t mask it.

He leaned forward. “They say hatred is most damaging to the one who wields it.” His voice was rational and calm.

Midnight felt the delicious urge to stab him. “And standing idle when one’s life is in danger is likely to get oneself killed.” She quipped, her aloof tone a fit match for his.

“Touché”

For a long moment, they remained locked together. The stupid man wouldn’t give up her arm, and she refused to compromise her pride by stepping back. Instead, she studied him, truly looking at this demon from her past. The night that he had nearly killed her for the first time, she had thought he was Death. His skin had seemed a pale gray in the moonlight. His long black hair had hung freely beside his face, masking most of his features as he had looked down at her. It had seemed back then that he had no eyes, they were so deeply shrouded in shadow.

Looking at him now, she realized that the specter that had haunted her dreams for so long in black clothes and flowing cape was just an image that a young girl had created of her executioner. In the fading sunlight, he didn’t look nearly as threatening as she had imagined him. His features were still sharp, his gaze as predatory as that of a hawk, but he did have eyes. Eyes that were as black as the shadows that had once shrouded them.

[Asila]

The man shifted slightly, tilting his head as though to regard her. As the lamplight caught his eyes in a small spark of violet, she realized that they weren’t black at all, only a dark amethyst in color. Such a peculiar shade. She almost lost herself in her fascination. Then she blinked and finished the rest of her examination in a flash of thought.

His complexion was pale, but feasibly so, and though he still insisted on wearing black the dramatic cape he had first appeared to her in was gone. Not a monster. Only a strange human.

He was too close for her to search for the swords that he had once kept sheathed at his side without being obvious about it, but if his recent attack was any clue at all, he was still particularly fond of his blades.

Suddenly annoyed with his nearness, she pushed against him. She had hoped that the action would grant her more space, but trying to shove this particular man aside was like trying to push back a brick wall. She only found herself stepping backward, the calves of her legs pressed to the side of her bed. So much for dignity.

With a wicked smile, he pulled her closer, pinning her against himself. Midnight felt her blood turn to ice. The bastard was deliberately making her uncomfortable, and she didn’t know how to stop him without making a fool out of herself. She thought it best to act as though his little game had no effect on her.

She was tense, but refused to let any other sign of alarm slip through her guard. Her expression was a bored mask of nonchalance, her gaze cool.

“I could leave, now,” he murmured, “If you would cooperate. Just tell me about your associate, the vampire, and you’ll never see me again.”

Midnight didn’t believe that for a moment. She knew by his expression that he could see the skepticism flickering through her narrowed eyes.

“You’ve seen him recently,” He continued, brushing a hand across her healed throat.

“That,” She said, jerking away, “is the work of Azirath. You remember him, don’t you? You went after him that night, sword raised, with death written across your face. I had never been so frightened.” She didn’t understand why she was telling him this, it just seemed right that he should know what she went through. His stricken gaze was oddly satisfying. “Terror. I learned the meaning of that word then. Still, I didn’t run. I threw myself at your legs, and you nearly lost your balance. Without a thought you whipped around, your sword a silver arc that I instinctively ducked away from. I wasn’t fast enough, and the blade tore through my neck. I don’t remember much else, only the screaming of my mother and the drone of the doctor who told her it was a miracle I was still alive. My throat had been slit from ear to ear and I should have bled to death within minutes, but I held one. I survived, even though I shouldn’t have, and there came a time when I wished it hadn’t been so.”

[Asila]

Midnight had thought she reached him, but even as he bowed his head in shame and regret, he clenched his fists and snarled, “That may be true, but it doesn’t matter now. You have chosen to help a creature that thrives on death and destruction. A near death experience is no excuse.”

She sucked in her breath, insulted and outraged. “It wasn’t an excuse, you pompous piece of shit, it was a reminder. If you continue to swing those worthless blades of yours at anything that moves, another innocent will be harmed. My life is over, it doesn’t matter, but there are others that I’ll avenge if they come to harm at your hands. I promise you, your death would not be an easy one.”

He released her, wearing the same mask he had worn when
he had come for Azirath. His eyes fell into shadow, his face still and inhuman. “Watch yourself, Midnight. You are a in no position to issue threats.”

“What are you going to do about it? I’m not a child anymore. Can you summon the courage to attack someone who can put up a fight?” Midnight shoved him again. This time, he took a few stumbling steps back. She didn’t understand why she was so angry, but the volatile emotion gave her strength so she fanned the flames and let her fury grow. She threw a punch.

Her opponent recovered with amazing speed and evaded the blow. He caught hold of her arm and twisted it cruelly behind her back. She staggered.

“Midnight?”

He spun, releasing her, and pinned Jade against the wall with dark, violet restraints. Like skeletal ribs, they closed around her torso.

Jade paled and closed her eyes against the pain. Like Midnight, she was too proud to scream.

Midnight fell into a fighting stance, every muscle tensing as she tried to fight off a tidal wave of murderous rage. The room fell into sharp contrasts, each soft shadow darkening to black, every color fading to pale grey. Then, as she had known it would, everything flashed to red and she lost control.

***

“What are you doing here?” Rav demanded of the teenage girl that had just stumbled into the fight. She didn’t answer immediately, only opening her eyes so that she could give him a withering look.

At that moment, a large white cat whose pure color faded to black at the extremities appeared in the doorway. His wings hinged at the base of his paws, then arced back above his shoulders. Below flattened ears and furrowed brows, a pair of emerald eyes were sparkling with hatred.

Despite a great difference in size and ferocity, he recognized this creature. Azirath. He must have been little more than a cub when they first met.

Azirath drew in a deep breath and roared, charging before the last growl faded from his lips.

He slammed the door shut with a thought and braced it with a lock spell. Immediately, the door groaned and shuddered as Azirath crashed into it. Another outraged roar seeped through the barrier, followed by a monotone thunder as the cat-creature continued to throw himself against the door.

[Seven]

I really do feel this story is only getting better and better. It leaves you in so much suspense! So, let me reiterate what happened so far, so I can try to get this straight in my head though....

1) Midnight was friends with Rav and Azirath.
2) An evil vampire wants Midnight for some reason, and tried to force her to change, cursing her.
3) Rav tried to kill Azirath, only for Midnight to try and stop him.
4) Rav is some sort of magical knight. Now he's thinks Midnight is on the vampire's side. Plus he's still hunting Azirath?
5) all of these guys are from another dimension.

Am I missing any other piece of information that is crucial knowledge to the story? It's so complicated, but so good!