At The Stroke Of Midnight

AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT

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Lanette Curington

At the Stroke of Midnight By Lanette Curington

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AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated . This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT Copyright (c) 2005 by Lanette Curington Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

To Death--Thank you for everything!

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~*~

The shade watched from the tower window as guests, dressed in shimmering costumes and masks in place, emerged from their conveyances and ascended the stone steps to the castle entrance. As a diversion, he checked each one's hourglass while he waited for her. When she arrived, he glided closer to the window. If he still had a heart, it would have raced in his chest at the sight of her again. She wore glittering white, a tumble of dark red curls cascading over one alabaster shoulder, and a white mask across her eyes. He summoned her hourglass...only a few grains of sand remained, slipping through in slow motion. She had very little time left, mere hours. He was not allowed to refill it. He had already used the last of his options on her. No matter the price he would pay later, he would take advantage of the thinness of the veil on this particular night and cross to the other side. From sundown until the stroke of midnight, he could mingle with mortals and not sense their unease at his presence, look into their eyes and not see fear, touch them and not cause their souls to flee their bodies. He anticipated the experience with an excitement he hadn't felt in millennia. Tonight he would know again what they fought so hard to cling to when he came for them. As the sun sank behind the horizon, his shadowy form filled out to resemble that of a living, breathing human being. He stretched out his upper limbs, spreading his fingers wide. The familiarity of this body startled him. He thought he had forgotten what his human body felt like. A smile curved his lips, then fell away as quickly. She was running out of time. He made a strange gesture, shrouding his body in black satin. He gestured again and a tall black scythe appeared in his hand. He wielded it with ease, the long curved blade whispering as it cut a swath through the air. 5

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Snapping the edge of his robe, he dematerialized in a bright silvery shimmer. When he reappeared below, no one would question his presence. The masquerade ball celebrated All Hallow's Eve and others would be similarly dressed. He wore the costume of the Grim Reaper, but it was no disguise. He collected the souls of mortals when their hourglasses ran empty for his name was Death.

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~*~

"Isn't everything lovely?" Olivia DeBenning raised her voice to be heard over the eerie music, raucous laughter, and buzz of conversation that filled the Great Hall of Greystone Castle. "I think the ball is a success, don't you?" On the other side of the banquet table, Margot Conway fumed, a frown wrinkling her white-powdered face. The tall Marie Antoinette wig leaned perilously to one side. She pushed at it with the back of her hand, but that only made it skew the other way. "Where have you been?" "Tending our guests and making sure everyone is having a good time. Mayor Dresden said--" "They've emptied another bowl of punch and it needs to be refilled." Margot planted her fists on the wide panniers of her costume. The froth of lace spilling from her sleeve threatened to knock over a stack of paper plates. "I'll do it." Olivia moved to pick up the crystal punch bowl on loan from Davy's great-aunt. Olivia had argued against using the antique, but his Aunt Louvenia had insisted. The elderly lady remembered the parties held in the castle when she was a young girl and wanted to help make this celebration special. Margot reached for the bowl at the same time. "No, I'll do it, Liv. You've already done so much. The castle is gorgeous and all because of you." Olivia's frowned, and she tried to decide if she detected a bite of sarcasm in her friend's tone of voice. Margot was tired, that was all. They all were. Volunteers had been working every spare minute the past few weeks to prepare the castle for this night. "Nonsense. Everyone on the committee helped to decorate the castle." "But the Chamber of Commerce is giving you the award tonight," Margot pointed out peevishly.

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"Only because I was voted chairperson. It belongs to the entire committee." Olivia brushed Margot's hands away and lifted the bowl, hugging it close to keep it safe. "I'll get the punch." "Are you sure you can manage, Liv?" Margot asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm fine," she said stiffly and turned, but her leg began to throb. At that moment, out of nowhere, a cowled figure in black satin appeared in her path. Awkwardly, she stepped to the side to avoid a collision. As her leg twisted beneath her, sharp pain raced up through her knee and thigh. She bumped into him anyway, the punch bowl slipping from her hands as she concentrated on regaining her balance. Pale, slender fingers emerged from a voluminous sleeve and grasped the edge of the bowl to keep it from falling. Olivia sighed as the pain subsided, returning to a steady throb. Her hands touched his briefly as she found a better grip on the bowl, and a shiver coursed through her body. She wasn't sure what caused the response. Why should the sight or touch of the Grim Reaper unnerve her? This was a Halloween, masked ball, after all. "Thank you." She squinted, peering into the depths of his cowl. An emaciated face, half-hidden by a domino, stared back at her, gray eyes glowing silver through the holes in the mask. A trick of the light, she decided uncomfortably. He was the same Reaper she had seen several times during the evening. Of course, there were perhaps half a dozen Reapers altogether. While the others danced and mingled and engaged in conversation, this Reaper had always been alone. His black satin costume seemed more authentic than the others. Authentic. The word amused her, as if the Grim Reaper were an actual entity. During the evening, every time she'd seen him, something tugged at her memory. He seemed so familiar to her, then she lost whatever recollection tried to surface. Probably someone she had gone to school with. "Do I know you?" He nodded, thin ashen lips curving into a sad smile. "I'm sorry...I don't recognize you, yet I almost do." Even as she spoke the words, she knew they made no sense. "Is that not the purpose of a masquerade ball?" His voice sounded hollow, as if it emanated from a dark cave. Olivia laughed at his observation and to dispel the strange moment. "You're right, of course. Perhaps I'll remember later. Excuse me." 8

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Slowly, carefully, Olivia limped toward the kitchen, conscious of every step. She hugged the inner wall to avoid the crush of people. She didn't need to be jostled again. At last, she entered the screen room, its original purpose to hold food before serving. She opened the door to the kitchen, cringing as the rusty hinges squealed in protest. Among the millions of things they had listed to get ready for tonight, they'd forgotten to oil the doors. She set the bowl down and gripped the edge of the table. Fortunately, the dull throb hadn't grown worse. If she could rest a while, then she was very careful the remainder of the evening--and with a good bit of luck--she wouldn't have to resort to taking painkillers. She untied her white half-mask and let it fall to the tabletop. The door screeched, sounding like an animal in its death throes, and a familiar voice called to her. "Hey, Liv, you okay?" She glanced over her shoulder as a Red Devil abandoned a serving cart and hurried to her side. Davy Wilson was another member of the Save-the-Castle-Committee and one of Olivia's best friends. Davy had stayed by her side throughout the years after the accident. He'd carried her books from class to class when she still used crutches. Most everyone had treated her like a freak or leper except Davy--and Margot, when it suited her. Olivia smiled at him fondly. "I think so. I turned my leg on the way to refill the punch bowl. The pain's fading now--" "Here." Davy hurried to her side, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. "Sit down and I'll take care of it." "No, Davy, there's too much to do," she protested, but he gently guided her to the chair and sat her down. He knelt in front of her and slid the long Cinderella skirts and petticoats above her knee. "Hey, we've done this enough times to know it helps." Olivia leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing his strong hands to work their magic on the taut muscles of her calf and thigh. Sometimes, Davy's patient ministrations helped when the strongest medication didn't, and his easy personality always calmed her. She sighed. "I'm sorry I'm such a klutz--" "Don't be silly," he said soothingly. "We'll have you fixed up in no time, just like always." 9

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Olivia could have sat there all night and let him massage her leg, but the guests needed their attention. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes. "It feels much better now. Thank you." "No problem." Davy straightened her costume and stood. "Why don't you use one of the back rooms to rest a while?" She shook her head. "There's too much to do." "I'll fill the punch bowl and take it out with the food." He lifted the bowl from the table and set it on the serving cart. "If you need anything, let me know." "I will." She watched him empty jugs of punch from the refrigerator, then pull out trays of appetizers from the warming ovens. When he had the cart loaded, he flashed her a grin. "You know, I'm glad you ended up with the Cinderella costume. Margot could never carry it off." Olivia smoothed the tulle skirt. "Me, too." "Besides," he added with a chuckle, "she deserves to have to fight that wig." "Now, Davy, she's our friend," Olivia admonished lightly. He shrugged. "Okay, I won't say anything else...except with friends like Margot we don't need enemies." He left through the noisy door before she could scold him again.

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~*~

Alone, Olivia shifted her leg and noticed no difference in the level of pain. She knew Margot wasn't the best kind of friend, but they had been best friends for as long as she could remember. Growing up, they had lived less than a mile from one another on the same road. They had shared birthday parties, traded dolls, and faced the unknown terrors of kindergarten together. Davy had been there, too, but he was a boy. It was only later that Olivia considered him a better friend than Margot. Sometimes it was difficult to let go of the past. Olivia straightened her skirt again, carefully placing each fold just so. The committee had decided on classic disguises for themselves, and Margot had immediately claimed Marie Antoinette. They'd had to drag Davy to the costume shop in Memphis. She saw the ice white skirt had peeking out from the overwhelming array of colorful costumes, and she wanted it even before she had pulled it free and found out what character it was. The glittery, white, gossamer fabric bedazzled her, and she didn't have to look any further. This costume was meant to be hers. "Cinderella!" Margot had snatched the gown from her, nearly tearing the delicate material. "I was looking for that." Olivia's heart sank and the familiar throb began in her thigh. She must have turned her leg slightly when Margot took the dress. "I thought you were looking for Marie Antoinette." "Was I?" Margot laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on Olivia's nerves, and a sign that Margot was in one of her contrary moods. "Well, I must have changed my mind!" Margot held the dress up in front of her and twirled before the full-length mirror. "Cinderella is blonde and so am I." "Only in cartoons," Olivia pointed out, but Margot wasn't listening. 11

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Margot's pale complexion and light yellow hair washed out against the stark white. Olivia knew it would better suit her darker coloring. "Margot, I found the dress." "But, Liv, I had my heart set on Cinderella." Margot pouted, thrusting out her bottom lip. How many times had she given in to Margot's demands? Too many to count. "No, you had your heart set on Marie Antoinette." Davy stepped from behind a rack, Red Devil in one hand, Grim Reaper in the other. "You've been talking about nothing else since we decided on classic costumes." Margot's face screwed up in anger. "Why does everyone always take her side? It was her idea to wear classic costumes and the rest of the committee automatically agreed!" Her shrill voice grew louder and carried across the store. The heat of embarrassment crept into Olivia's cheeks, and the ache in her leg had worsened. She could only watch as Margot stamped her foot and threw the white costume to the floor. "There! You can have it," she sneered. Davy shook his head and retrieved the gown. "Hey, you can go as Cinderella before the Fairy Godmother decks her out, dressed in rags and covered in soot." Davy hooted with laughter, and Margot's face turned an alarming shade of red. "You-You-You little worm," she spluttered and stormed out the door. "You shouldn't have said that." Olivia took the dress from him. Miraculously, the ache in her muscles had eased. She'd be able to try it on and make sure of the fit. "She'll get over it." He held up the Red Devil and Grim Reaper for her inspection. "Which do you think I should wear?" "The Red Devil, by all means," Olivia said with a laugh. "It matches your impish personality!" They had tried on their costumes. The Cinderella dress fit her as if it had been made for her. She stood in front of the mirror and twirled to make the skirt stand out. Over the years, she had often wished for a fairy godmother of her own. Instead of clothes and a pumpkin coach, her magical benefactress would make her whole again. Then she would be able to attend a gala ball where someone as handsome and charming as a prince would fall madly in love with her and they'd dance the night away. In her secret fantasy, she wouldn't return to the old handicapped Olivia at the stroke of midnight. No, her magically granted wish would last forever. 12

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They rented the Marie Antoinette costume for Margot anyway. She didn't speak to either of them on the ride home. When they stopped to drop her off, she had snatched up her boxes, slamming the door after her. Later, as usual, she acted as if nothing had happened. Olivia sighed, stood, and walked a few steps. She had too much to do to be sitting there lost in thought and nursing a bum leg .The dull throb that thrummed through her muscles had eased a bit after Davy's massage. She took a few more steps. If she was careful not to twist it again, she would make it through the evening. She took another few steps. Satin rustled sensually behind her. "Olivia." She turned her upper body around. "You!" Then she frowned. She hadn't heard a sound from the squeaky door, the only way to enter the kitchen from the castle. The outside door was in front of her, and she was sure no one had come through it. "How did you--" "Are you all right, Olivia?" he asked in a rush, as if he had expected to find her writhing in pain. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "But how do you know my name? You say you know me, but I-I don't quite know you. Tell me who you are." "I am called Death. You're in danger tonight." "What are you talking about? Do you mean the limp? I was injured in an accident as a child. It comes and goes. They say--" She bit her lip. Why did she feel the urge--no, the need to explain her life to him at this moment? "No." He shook his head, the side-to-side movement slow and exaggerated. "Danger comes from another source." It was a joke, of course, and her sudden laugh sounded bitter. "Did Margot put you up to this? Oh, I know...the committee thought it would be a funny Halloween trick. I'm afraid, I'm not in the mood tonight." Whoever devised the prank couldn't have known she would hurt herself. Ordinarily, she wouldn't mind, but the mishap with her leg had robbed her of her sense of humor She had missed so many good times in her life because of the injury. School dances and proms, picnics, roller-skating, trying out for cheerleading...the endless list had become a tally sheet of her pathetic life. 13

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"Please tell them I'm not up to a practical joke tonight." She caught another glimpse of his silver eyes inside the cowl, and familiarity washed over her again. "Did we go to school together?" He shook his head. "Do you live here in Glenville?" she persisted. "No." A piteous mewling from outside caught her attention. She went to the back exit and swung the heavy door open. A small, dark shape darted inside, threading between her legs. "Midnight! There you are." Before the black cat could cause her to trip and fall and really do some damage, she lifted him into her arms. He purred contentedly as he rubbed his head against her chin. "I've been worried about you." The cat is yours?" Death asked. "He showed up when we started decorating the castle, and I shared my lunch with him every day. I call him Midnight." She scratched behind his ear. "We had become such good friends, I decided to take him home with me today. I was afraid something had happened to him when he didn't show up this afternoon." He moved closer to her and stared at the cat intensely. He touched the sleek black fur, then quickly withdrew. "Keep him with you, Olivia. Don't let him outside again or he'll not survive." Olivia stepped away. "That's not funny! You've carried this joke too far." Thunder rumbled low and long and a quick crack split the night air. A bright flash of lightning lit up the sky for a few seconds. "No, that's impossible!" Olivia groaned and went to the threshold, staring up at the cloudless sky. "The forecast called for warm temperatures and no rain. The costume contest will be held in the bailey later. Rain will ruin it." Death swept around her and shut the door. "There'll be no rain. It's a warning...for me." "I've had enough of this," she snapped. "It's obvious Margot put you up to this because she hates the cat. Midnight always hissed at her when she came too near him or me. You can tell Margot it didn't work--" "Tell me about the castle," he interrupted smoothly. "Wh-What?" she stammered, disconcerted by the abrupt change in subject. 14

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He looked around at the stone walls. "I don't know its history." "Greystone Castle," she filled in automatically. For nearly three years, her life had been consumed by the castle. Every waking hour had been spent wracking her brain for ideas on how to save it, every spare moment had been used discussing with other committee members ways to raise money to fund it, and every night had been spent restlessly dreaming about it--among other surreal images. "Isn't it unusual to find a structure such as this in this geographical location?" he asked. His question threw her further off-center. She had been gearing up to give him a piece of her mind and then he calmly asked about the castle. The diversionary tactic worked, she thought wryly, feeling deflated. Pride in the committee's accomplishments displaced her anger. "Yes. Yes, it is," she replied. The strangely worded question made him seem out of place and out of time. He didn't really speak as if English were his first language, but he didn't sound foreign either. He had no accent, his pronunciation flat and neutral like newscasters and most actors on television. There was no hint of the southern, country drawl that people spoke with in the Mid-South area. Olivia peered into the cowl, but she saw nothing more than before--the impression of a thin face and gray eyes that seemed to absorb the light and give off a silvery glow. Specialty contact lenses, she guessed. Davy had bought some red lenses to go with his costume, but they irritated his eyes too much to wear. "The usual story," she began and shifted Midnight to her other arm. "An eccentric millionaire with more money than he knew what to do with. Early in the nineteen hundreds, Edward Grey was very old and his second wife was very young. Whatever she wanted, no matter the cost, he gave it to her. One day, she decided she wanted to live in a castle, so Edward had architects design a small castle. He shipped in stones from derelict castles in Britain to build it. Edward lived only a few years after it was finished, and his wife didn't live much longer." Olivia walked around the table and sat in the kitchen chair. Midnight settled in her lap, purring loudly as she stroked his fur.

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"Is that when Greystone became the property of the city?" he asked, but Olivia didn't think he was much interested in the answer. He stood still, poised as if waiting for someone--or something to happen. "No, Edward had two sons from his first marriage. Neither of them was very productive. They did nothing to improve the family finances, and they didn't marry and have children to carry on the name. But they did manage to hold onto Greystone through the stock market crash. In the thirties and forties, they threw lavish parties and many of the older residents remember them fondly." Midnight sat up and meticulously groomed his belly, while Olivia held him to keep him from losing his balance on the uneven perch of her lap. Suddenly, before she could react, he sprang to the floor and started sniffing around the trash cans. "No, Midnight!" she scolded, but she went to the warming ovens and pulled out an appetizer. She placed it on a paper plate and set it on the floor. The cat licked the bit of ham and cheese then hunkered down to eat. "What happened then?" he asked, prompting her to continue the story. "Well, the brothers were the last of the Greys, so when they died in the fifties, the castle went to Glenville. For years, the city didn't know what to do with it. They occasionally rented it out for private functions, but it has been in a bad state of disrepair for years. The brothers had put no money into its upkeep, and the city couldn't afford it. After a time, people forgot it was here. A few years ago, the city council made plans to demolish it and sell the land for development. Some of us decided that shouldn't happen." "And you organized the committee," he said softly. Olivia smiled. "Well, yes, it was my idea. But everyone else on the committee and many, many others worked just as hard. After we spread the word, donations and support came pouring in. We've spent three years fixing it up. We'll have our first renaissance faire next spring, and so far, half a dozen weddings are booked for next summer. We've proved the castle can generate revenue for the city and the masquerade ball tonight is to celebrate." The screech of the screen room door announced Davy's return. Again, Olivia wondered how Death had entered the kitchen without making any noise. Davy grinned at her and politely nodded to the stranger, then opened a warming oven and pulled out another tray of food. "I don't think any of these people have eaten in a month!" Olivia moved closer to Davy. "Do you know who he is?" she whispered. 16

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"Sure," Davy said and set the last tray on the cart. He leaned close to her ear and said in low, sepulchral tones, "The Gr-r-rim-m-m R-r-reaper-r-r. Mwhaahahahahaha!" Giggling, she swatted him toward the door. Davy always could make her laugh even when there was nothing in her life that was the least bit funny. Still chuckling, Davy opened the door then snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot. Margot wants you to meet her up on the catwalk." The laughter died in her throat. She didn't know if she could make it up three flights of stone steps. The ache had eased somewhat, but the strain of climbing stairs would not be good. "What does she want? Is something wrong?" Davy shrugged. "She didn't say. Want me to do it?" "No, I'll go. Some of the decoration might be coming loose." She and Margot had spent hours hanging orange and black crepe streamers, pumpkins, bats, and cats along the balustrade of the catwalk, which looked out over the bailey. "Let me know if you need help," Davy offered and left with the loaded cart. "You," she said to the cat, stroking his velvety fur as she picked him up. "I'll have to put you out. You fit in with the decor, but some people get skittish around a black cat, especially tonight." "Don't put him outside," Death said suddenly. "He'll not live out the hour. Keep him inside if you want him safe." "I told you--" Another rumble cut off her words, and bright lightning filled the windows. She hesitated. She knew it was a trick...but how could it be? No one could control the thunder and lightning or know when it would occur. Coincidence, nothing more. "All right," she conceded, not knowing why she gave in. She was just too tired to argue and in too much discomfort to fight the scheme unfolding around her. The lure of the catwalk was part of it, of course. "He should be safe in one of the storage rooms. I'll give him some more of the appetizers. Then maybe he'll take a nap and stay out of the way." Death went to the warming oven and heaped the paper plate with tasty morsels. Olivia led the way to one of the smaller rooms. She arranged a pile of clean cloths into a bed and gave Midnight one last stroke as she tried to set him down. He clung to the front of her dress, meowing mournfully. 17

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"I'll come for you after the ball is over, Midnight," she promised, easing his claws from the bodice of her dress. She shut the door and turned to face Death. "I have to go meet Margot now. I don't know who you are, but--" "Don't you?" His abrupt question startled her and she frowned. "Sometimes I think I almost do...but no. Enjoy the party." She started across the kitchen.

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~*~

He wanted to sweep her into his arms and take her far away until this night had ended and she was safe from whatever harm was fated for her. But he felt that even if he did, watching the dawn with her on some distant mountain, when he checked her hourglass, only a few grains would still be left to fall. The danger would always exist for her unless he could keep her away from everything and everyone she knew and loved. That he could not do. No, it was better to let her destiny play out. They would find the source, and he would be here to intercede. Then Olivia could have the long life he envisioned for her. "I'll come with you," he said and followed her across the room. She stopped and waited for him, smiling. "I welcome the company. It's going to be a long walk." Her limp became more pronounced as they went through the screen room and skirted the crowd. He had watched her all evening as she moved about the Great Hall with poise and grace. She hadn't faltered at all until the other woman had made her cutting remarks and she turned, running into him. He regretted he hadn't timed his appearance at her side better. She spoke to several people before they reached a roped-off area in front of the first flight of stairs. She placed one foot on the bottom step and used the wall to steady herself. "Shall I carry you?" he offered. Her eyebrow rose and her lips curved into a fleeting smile. She looked as if she didn't believe he was strong enough to support her weight. The shade he had become was of no more substance than mist, and the form he had now taken was thin and frail, a body he hadn't inhabited in millennia. "No, thank you. I can manage." 19

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He almost sighed in relief. Touching her--as much as his fingers ached to stroke her skin--meant experiencing the moment of her death, and he didn't think he could have withstood the anguish. When he had touched the fur of the black cat, he had known and recoiled from the expiration of its life. He should not have warned Olivia, but he knew she would be deeply saddened by the animal's demise. He remained one step below her in case her limb failed. "I was seven when it happened," she began. She took the stairs one at a time, placing her uninjured leg on the next step, bracing herself against the wall, then pulling herself up. "A week after my seventh birthday. Margot's birthday had been a month earlier. Her parents had given her a used bike because they couldn't afford a new one. It had been well cared for, but it was an ugly green color. I received a bike for my birthday, too. It was pink and shiny with purple streamers hanging from the handlebars." She paused before pulling her injured leg up to the next step, as if anticipating the discomfort it would cause was worse than actually experiencing it. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and continued up the stairs "Margot was terribly jealous. I told her we could paint hers and I'd let her have one of my streamers. Then they'd be just alike. But Margot ran off in a huff, and I didn't see her for a week." At the landing, she stopped to rest. The other two flights loomed above them. She turned to face him. "Am I boring you?" "Not at all," he reassured. "I want to hear the story." He knew the outcome, but he wanted to hear the details of what had happened. He also enjoyed the sound of her voice, like spun sugar and twilight and lavender--all things soft, sweet, and lovely. She leaned back against the wall. "The next time I saw her, she challenged me to a race. I'd only been riding a week, and I was still quite wobbly and unsure. I agreed. I thought if Margot won, she'd see that her bike was as good as mine and we could be friends again. We lived out in the country, mostly wooded area. Ditches and gullies lined the road and kudzu draped over most everything like a green patchwork quilt. Margot picked Jones' Hill and we took off." She blinked as if holding back tears at the memories. She swallowed hard. "Well, I held on for dear life, and prayed I would remember how to brake when I reached the bottom. Margot didn't shoot past me like I thought she would. She stayed even with me. 20

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Then she must have lost control because her bike ran into mine. I swerved off the road and into a gully in the woods. A layer of kudzu concealed its true depth, and I crashed at the bottom." He nodded but she didn't see him. He remembered it vividly. He had come to take her, but he could not. Half-conscious, she lay in a crumpled heap, her limbs wound around the pretty pink bicycle. Her red hair, more like dark copper when she was a child, glittered in the dappled sunlight that fell through the trees. He wanted then, as now, to touch her pale cheek, but doing so then would have freed her soul. He had watched her shallow breaths, and the last remnant of his humanity stirred. Compassion awakened in him, at first a thin trickle, then a flood. He hadn't experienced it or any other emotion since he'd been chosen and given the role of a soul reaper. He had known then it signified the beginning of the end of his turn at reaping. He wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last. Many soul reapers retained a spark of humanity buried deep within them, and it emerged when they least expected it. He had vanished without taking Olivia. He could give her that. Each soul reaper was allowed three options where he could choose not to take a soul. One might be a momentary lapse. Another indicated the reaper's humanity was growing stronger, but could still be suppressed if the desire was great enough. A third meant the reaper had allowed his humanity to flourish and become just as important to him as his grim duty. The fourth time--and the last--ended his term as reaper. He didn't know what happened afterwards. Was the reaper's own soul reaped for the other side? Or did he merely wink out of existence? Neither prospect frightened him. Only Olivia's continued life concerned him. Utilizing his power in a way that had not been intended, to manifest his former body, he had guaranteed the end of his term as reaper. He was being allowed to play out what he had begun, but after saving Olivia, he did not know what would happen to him at the stroke of midnight. Twice more during her life he had come to take her, but each time he'd left without doing so. He wanted her to grow, mature, and live a happy life. He wanted her with silver hair and feathery wrinkles lacing her skin before she was taken, quietly and painlessly, in her sleep. Olivia pushed away from the wall. "I don't remember much after the accident-only a few faint images that I can't quite recall, haunt my dreams. I woke up in the 21

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hospital two days later. I couldn't walk for a long time. There were operations and therapy, braces and crutches for years." Once again, she took the steps one at a time and leaned on the wall for support. He thought she had said all she had to say, but she began to speak again. "By the time I was in high school all that was over. Although I-I never fully recovered, the operations were finished and the crutches were gone. People started seeing me as a person, not a cripple. My junior year, Troy Thomas, the hunk that every girl had a crush on, asked me out." Her cheeks blushed a becoming pink and she laughed a little as she reached the second landing. "Margot was so angry! She told me she was sure there was something funny about the whole thing. Why would Troy Thomas ask me out? Didn't I know he was playing me for a fool? I think Margot was jealous that Troy asked me out, just as she'd been jealous because my bike was prettier than hers." Olivia shook her head. "I don't know why I even told you that. It has nothing to do with what happened. The night before my date with Troy, I was driving home from my part-time job at the Quik Stop. It was late and had been raining off and on all evening. Of course, it came pouring down before I reached home. I was out on Connolly Road. They had put down new asphalt a few days before, and the road was covered with an oily glaze. The rain made it worse. Another car came out of nowhere, and I lost control of mine, trying to avoid a collision. I ran off the road, slammed into a tree, and knocked myself unconscious." He remembered the incident all too well. The car had slid sideways off the road and crushed the door against a tree. The pouring rain that never touched him had drizzled through the broken window and splashed across her face. Her hair was darker by then, much the same color it was now, a rich russet highlighted with copper. He had reached out to brush the strands back and wipe the water from her pale brow before he remembered he couldn't or she would be taken. She had moaned and stirred and her eyelids had fluttered darkly against the whiteness of her skin. At that moment, love fluttered through him like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon and growing stronger with each wing beat. It took flight and soared through him, gliding in and out of every minute corner of his essence. His love for Olivia lifted him up and happiness followed behind, another winged creature leaving joy and delight in its wake. 22

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The somber and sad duty he performed was not enough to sustain him any longer. He wanted more and needed more, but everything had been lost to him millennia ago. Even if he did become merely nothing for his transgression, knowing he had save Olivia and give her continued life was good enough. Her laughter, edged with regret, brought him out of his thoughts. "I never did go out with Troy," she said quietly."I was in the hospital a while. I had suffered a bad bump on my head. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive. But I couldn't walk. They said that I should be able to walk, that the accident hadn't damaged my leg again. My psychiatrist said I had reverted to the accident I'd had when I was seven. I hadn't been able to walk after that one, so my subconscious didn't think I should be able to walk after this one either. A few months of therapy and I was back to normal...well, normal for me. By that time, Troy was dating someone else. I had missed my chance." Death looked at her eyes now filled with sadness at all she had missed in life. For the first time, it occurred to him that he might have done her a disservice. She retained her life, but at what price? He had inadvertently doomed her to a life of suffering and disappointments, and it became clear to him why interference was forbidden. Still, she had persevered. Her inner strength had overcome her physical disability. Wasn't life, even if not perfect, preferable to the alternative? Shouldn't a soul have the chance to grow and learn before making the journey to the other side? He conceded it wasn't his place to make the decision. Selfishness--a human trait he hadn't realized he still had until this moment. Of course, everything always maintained balance, the bad weighing in along with the good. His own selfish goals had given back her life three times, so far, but hadn't she become a stronger, better person for it? He had to believe it was true, or the choice he'd made for himself would be for naught, too. She didn't act as if she were going to continue speaking. Yet, there was so much more that needed to be said so they could figure out what or who threatened her this night. She started to push away from her resting place against the wall. "What happened to the person who ran you off the road?" he prompted. Olivia shrugged and leaned back again, closing her eyes briefly. "Nothing. They never found out who it was. Not that it matters. It was an accident. I gave them a description of the car. I don't know much about makes and models, but this one was easy. It was exactly like Margot's." 23

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"Your friend?" Surprise tinged the question, but everything fell neatly into place, making perfect sense to him. "It wasn't her, of course!" Olivia's hands doubled into fists at her side. "But the car was the same color and the same shape, the same bent logo on the front of the hood." He waited but she didn't realize what she had said or its implications. In denial, she didn't want to know the truth. "You didn't see the driver?" "No," she answered too quickly. "It was raining too hard and it was too dark. The headlights glared off the windshield. I couldn't see a thing." He thought she protested too much. "Did they question your friend?" "Yes. Yes, they did. I told them not to. I told them it wasn't Margot, and that the car only looked like hers. They insisted and were waiting for her when she got home." Her brow wrinkled and with a opened hand, unconsciously rubbing her thigh muscle through layers of tulle and netting. "She had been out in the rain. She'd gone to the grocery store and got caught in the storm on her way back. She was so angry at me because they questioned her. I tried to make her understand, I never told them I thought it was her." An insistent beep sounded quietly. Olivia looked at her watch, and turned off the alarm. "It's 11:30. The costume contest and award presentation is at midnight, below in the bailey. I have to hurry and see what Margot wants. I hope nothing's gone wrong that has to be fixed for the contest." Once again, she took the last flight of stairs one at a time. He thought she would relate the third incident, but she remained silent as they moved upward. Olivia was running out of time and so was he. Less than thirty minutes by their reckoning. "Isn't there something else you should tell me?" he prompted gently. She faltered, almost missing the step, and he caught her by the elbow. She righted herself, and he let her go, forcing the impressions of her death away. Unfortunately, he didn't see how she died. As with the cat called Midnight, it was a feeling more than an image, the solemn lifting of her soul from her body. He quickly checked her hourglass again, but her fate hadn't changed. Nothing he'd done so far would save her. "They say..." she began in a whisper, then squared her shoulders and spoke in a clear, strong voice. "Oh, they say I imagine the limp and the pain. They call it psychosomatic. I've created the illusion that I'm injured. The operations and therapy 24

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worked years ago. There's nothing wrong with my leg at all. How can they say that when I know what I feel?" It wasn't what he'd meant, but it confirmed his suspicions. Olivia had to face her fears and learn the truth before her fate played out. "When does it happen?" he asked. "What do you mean?" She resumed her ascent and he followed closely behind. "When do you experience the pain?" She shrugged. "Only occasionally. It comes and goes." She wasn't making it easy. "When was the last time, before tonight?" "I-I don't really remember," she said sharply. "Don't you?" "I said I didn't." "Yesterday?" he persisted. "No." "The day before?" She shook her head. "The day before that?" "I don't remember that far back!" She sounded annoyed. "If it did happen, I couldn't say if it was Tuesday or Wednesday." He had to force her to recall the incident or she would never make the connection. "Did you work at the castle Tuesday or Wednesday?" "We've worked at the castle every day for the past two weeks," she said. She seemed slight agitated by his relentless questions. "In the evenings, of course. All of us have jobs during the day." "I see," he murmured. He decided to give her a few moments to calm down. They had reached the catwalk and a cool night breeze blew over them. The sky was still clear, filled only with stars. "Margot!" she called out, peering down the empty walkway and rubbing her thigh again. "I should have known she wouldn't be here. I don't have time for this." Aware their time was running out, he took a step toward her. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen Tuesday or Wednesday?" She grimaced and limped down the catwalk. "Lots of things happen that are out of the ordinary. We've been working on a castle. A castle isn't ordinary." 25

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"But did anything specific happen?" "Why are you asking me all these questions? I-I..." She moved farther away from him, glancing back at him every other step until she finally stopped and turned around to face him from a distance. "I don't even know who you are. I shouldn't have allowed you to come with me to a secluded area with no one else around. I thought Margot would be here." "I won't harm you, Olivia," he promised. "But I don't know that. I think you should leave now and join the party downstairs." She limped backward. "If you don't, I'll call for help." He wanted to rush to her and comfort her, but any movement toward her would only frighten her more. He backed to the top of the stairs. "I'll stay here. I won't come near you again. What happened last week, Olivia?" "Wednesday," she whispered and her face screwed up in pain. "What happened Wednesday?" he said slowly, careful not to alarm her again. "Margot...Margot, of course. Isn't it always Margot?" Olivia slumped against the wall. "At the last minute, she brought in some Halloween decorations she'd found. The committee had decided in detail weeks ago how we were going to decorate. We'd drawn up a plan and bought everything we needed. Everyone had agreed, even Margot, on the design. We had half the stuff put up when Margot brings in these decorations she'd found and demanded we use them too. She thought they were utterly perfect." She'd changed her tone of voice on the last two words, flawlessly imitating the nasal whine of the woman he'd seen with Olivia earlier. "They weren't utterly perfect. They were utterly ugly. The rest of the committee brushed her off, but of course you can't just brush off Margot." "What did she do?" He didn't have to check her hourglass. The stroke of midnight drew nigh, and he sensed one of the last grains slip through. "Do? Oh, Margot never does anything. She sulks and acts as if her world is coming to an end over something as silly as Halloween decorations." Olivia shook her head again and again. "I shouldn't be saying these things. Margot is my friend. She's been my friend forever." "She doesn't sound like a very good friend." Each second ticked closer to midnight, and Olivia's fate would be sealed. Still, he would not take her, no matter what his fate might be. "What else happened that night?" 26

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"It was the strangest thing." She looked up at him quickly, her brown eyes sparkling in the starlight. "You're right. My leg started to hurt while Margot was throwing her tantrum. Later, after she'd calmed down and we were decorating the catwalk together, we were talking like the old friends we'd always been. The pain had all but disappeared." "And?" he urged. More seconds ticked by, and another grain plunged to the bottom of the glass. "I fell. I was leaning over, like this." She walked to the stone balustrade running the length of the catwalk and bent to touch the crepe streamers. "We were fastening the decorations and, suddenly, I felt myself go over. My leg must have given out and I lost my balance. I was extremely fortunate. All the cardboard boxes and packing material had been left in a pile down in the bailey. I fell into it and suffered only a few bruises and scratches." He'd been there, of course. Although the fall itself wasn't fatal, her heart had failed. The terror of falling would have caused her death if he could have brought himself to touch her. He'd knelt beside her and waited. Because he hadn't touched her, her heart had started again on its own. Her youth and vitality had ensured no permanent damage. He didn't immediately vanish, although the dying of others called to him. He watched her breathe and eyelids flutter as she regained consciousness. He yearned to take her into his arms and kiss away her fright. Desire pulsed through him, swift and strong. He wished for a body he no longer possessed to gather her close and feel her warm skin next to his, to intimately worship the mature and beautiful woman she had become, to make her his and commit himself to her in every way that a mortal man and woman did. His rousing passion for her astounded him. He'd never really missed the physically intimate aspects of humanity before. The sanctity of his duty had transcended such mundane matters. But coupled with his love and devotion for her--things he'd never felt for a woman while alive--it became an urgent need demanding to be fulfilled. He shook away his memories and his need. More precious seconds had been lost to his distraction--another human quality he indulged in far too often. Only minutes left until the stroke of midnight when he would be gone and Olivia would die, her soul taken by the touch of another reaper. There wasn't time to let her figure it out on her own. "No one pushed you?" "Of course not! Margot and I were the only ones up here." Her eyes grew wide and luminous. "You can't mean to suggest that Margot--" 27

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He nodded, speaking quickly. "She's always there, Olivia. Think. She was there when you ran off the road on your bicycle. The car accident--" "It wasn't her fault!" she shouted. "It wasn't. The car only looked like hers." "The bent logo. You said it yourself when you were telling me about it. You didn't see the driver, but the logo was bent just like Margot's--unh..." He heard Olivia cry out as pain exploded in the back of his head and bright lights shot off at the edge of his vision. He'd forgotten what true pain felt like. He experienced their deaths, but death itself wasn't a painful process. His full attention had been on Olivia, making her understand how dangerous Margot was before his time ran out. If he couldn't save her then perhaps she would save herself. The castle walls and night sky spun around him. He fell to his knees and crumpled to the floor at the top of the stone stairs. His consciousness slipped away as easily as a grain of sand

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~*~

Olivia watched in horror as Margot stepped over the still form of Death. Margot! How could she have been so blind all these years? She inched back along the balustrade, away from the wild-eyed woman, the ache in her leg forgotten. "Margot, what have you done?" "Something I should have done ten minutes ago instead of letting him run off at the mouth." She sneered as she looked down at Death. The Marie Antoinette wig teetered precariously to one side, and Margot slapped it back into an upright position with the piece of wood left over from one of the castle repair projects. "He figured out in one evening, what you didn't have a clue about your whole life! He's smart, but not smart enough." "H-He said some things about you, but I-I didn't believe it," Olivia stammered, trying to placate Margot. "H-He was--" "Oh, shut up, Liv," Margot snarled. "You never were a good liar. I heard you. He put two and two together and you came up with four. Who is he, anyway?" "I have no idea." Olivia took a deep breath. "He wouldn't tell me his real name. I-I thought you or the committee had sent him to me as a prank. Oh, Margot, did you...?" "Nah, he's still breathing. But not for long, him or you." Margot advanced toward her. Olivia stepped back again, toward the tower at the other end of the catwalk. Then she remembered that the doorway had been sealed off. They hadn't had time to finish the repairs in the second tower and didn't want guests wandering through it and possibly injuring themselves. Margot had her hemmed in, blocking her way to the stairs she had come up. She had nowhere to go. The only thing she could think of to do was keep Margot talking until she could ease around her and go for help. "Why are you doing this?" 29

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"Why? I've been in your shadow ever since I can remember. You always got better birthday presents. Even after you were crippled, you got all the attention. Even Davy started bowing and scraping to you. Troy Thomas asked you out!" she shrieked as she poked the piece of wood at Olivia. "You knew I was in love with him and you agreed to go." "Margot, you were in love with every boy in the senior class!" Olivia said in bewilderment. "The committee voted you chairperson and always used your suggestions!" Margot jabbed the wood at her again and Olivia shrank away from the jagged end. "No one ever listens to me!" "I'm listening to you now, Margot," Olivia said softly, keeping her eye on the weapon. "Too little, too late," Margot said with an exaggerated smile that held no hint of amusement. "How do you possibly think you can get away with it?" Olivia inched one foot out and took a step toward the balustrade, but Margot noticed and stepped to the side, too. "I toss you over, then he goes." She swung the wood around and pointed at Death. "I'll say I was late getting up here to meet you. When I finally arrived, I saw him attacking you, but you valiantly fought back. During the struggle, you both lost your footing and fell over. Nothing down there to save you this time, Liv. The fall will probably break every bone in your body and his, and crush your skulls. They'll never think that he was knocked out before he fell." As Margot finished speaking, Olivia caught sight of a quick, dark shape racing up the stairs. It leaped over the figure in black satin and dove between Margot's feet. She screeched and lifted her long skirt with her free hand and batted at the cat with the piece of wood. "Get away from me, you beast! Get it away from me!" The black cat wound in and out and around her legs, lithely dodging the wood. Margot stumbled and the tall wig fell back, its weight sending her into the balustrade. Her arms windmilled to regain her balance, but it wasn't enough to stop the momentum. Before Olivia could reach out to help her, Margot toppled over and was gone. She screamed once more, but the sound was cut short by a sickening thud as she hit the cold stone floor below. 30

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"Margot!" Olivia cried out, but she couldn't move. At that moment, her watch chimed softly, announcing midnight. The black cat nimbly jumped atop the balustrade and arched his back, rubbing his full length against her. She ran her hand over his soft fur. Below, the guests started filling the bailey. Some of them laughed, thinking Margot's body was a Halloween scene, set up for their entertainment. Then several other members of the committee rushed to Margot's side. One of them screamed and another shouted to call 911. The others started herding the guests back into the Great Hall. "Olivia!" Davy shouted her name from the top of the stairs. She looked toward him, and suddenly, she was able to move. She hurried down the catwalk and dropped to her knees beside Death. She placed her hand on his chest and felt it rise and fall. He was still alive! "Liv?" Davy touched her shoulder. "What happened?" She shook her head. "Margot." "I don't know what's going on here, but I let the cat out of the storage room. I went back to the kitchen to get some more appetizers and the cat was raising a ruckus. I thought he was hurt or sick, so I went to check on him. As soon as I opened the door, he shot out before I could catch him. I saw him come this way." "It's all right, Davy," she murmured. She didn't understand any of what had happened tonight, but it didn't matter. "Did he ever tell you who he is?" She nodded. "Yes. Yes, he did." Death stirred and a sigh escaped his pale lips. Olivia reached up and pushed the cowl and mask over his brow, revealing the face that had haunted her dreams since she was seven years old. It was the face she had glimpsed after her bicycle accident, after she had slammed into the tree, and after she had fallen from the balustrade...the face she could never quite remember. Now, instead of emaciated and ashen, he was filled out and was a healthy flesh color. Eyelids fluttered restlessly over his deep-set eyes. "Can you hear me?" Olivia ran her fingers through his thick black hair, over sharp cheekbones, angular jaw, and thin lips. His skin was warm to her touch.

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His lashes rose and he looked at her with gray eyes that no longer glowed silver in the dark. He was no longer an ethereal figure, but a living, breathing man. Her breath caught in her chest and her heart pounded. He was here and he was hers. Death sat up, the base of his skull sore and throbbing. He felt...different, as if a heavy weight he didn't know he'd been carrying had been lifted from him. He tried to summon Olivia's hourglass, but nothing happened. He reached up and touched her cheek. Her skin was as soft as silk. "What time is it?" "After midnight," she said in a breathless rush. Past the end of his allotted time... He had not crossed to the other side and neither had he dissolved into nothing. He hadn't dared to hope he might be allowed to stay with Olivia, but it seemed as if his secret wish had been granted. She helped him to stand, and he noticed she no longer favored her leg. She would be amazed when she discovered the injury no longer bothered her. He put his arms around her and held her tightly, but movement in the bailey below made him peer over the balustrade. A robed and cowled figure knelt beside Margot's crumpled body. He heard Olivia gasp as the soul reaper touched Margot's shoulder. Margot's soul, a dark and twisted thing writhing in agony and silently shrieking, rose from her now lifeless form. The reaper lifted his head and nodded at them. Then both he and the freed soul slowly faded until they could no longer be seen. She looked up at him. Tears of grief, for one she had thought of as a friend, filling her bright blue eyes. "That was Margot?" "Yes. Some souls are dark and ugly like hers, but most radiate a warm and beautiful white light," he explained. "You...don't have to do that anymore, do you?" she whispered. "My time is finished. Someone else has taken on the responsibility." Smiling through her tears, her arms went around him. "I remember now. I remember everything." His hand trembled as he brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead and replaced it with a kiss. "I hoped you would." "You were always there," she murmured. "And now, I'll always be here with you," he promised. "But who are you now? What is your name?" 32

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"I was once called Ondru." Speaking his human name aloud after such a long time sounded alien to him. "It's an old name, isn't it?" she asked. "Yes, very old." And a name for a man from an ancient time that no longer existed. He had received a new life, and he would create a new identity to go with it. His heart--yes, he could now claim to be in possession of a heart in all meanings of the word-swelled with the wonder of spending a lifetime with Olivia. With his life would come death, as was the eternal cycle of all living things, but he knew not to fear the inevitable. Afterwards, on the other side, he and Olivia would be together forever. Holding Midnight, Davy joined them. He gasped in shock when he looked over the balustrade. "Is that--Is that Margot? What happened, Liv? Is she...?" "Yes, I'm afraid so." She gripped his arm. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later." Davy's gaze turned from Olivia to him. Confusion became suspicion. "Just who are you?" "Andrew. Andrew Smith." He tested the new name he had chosen and found it suited him well. With Olivia by his side, he would make a good life as Andrew Smith. "I'm an old friend of Olivia's." Davy frowned. "I know all of Olivia's friends. I've never heard her mention you before." "Davy, it's okay." Olivia took Midnight from him. She hugged the cat and nestled even closer to him. "Andrew has been a part of my life for a long time." Andrew stroked Midnight and felt nothing more than the warm velvet texture of black fur. He smiled. "And I'll be part of it for a long time to come."

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Author Bio

Lanette Curington, author of the critically acclaimed sensuous futuristic Starkissed, was born and raised in west Tennessee. She still lives there with her husband, two daughters, and a clowder of cats. Starkissed was an Eppie Finalist and a P.E.A.R.L. finalist in 2001, and winner of All About Murder's Bloody Dagger Award and FictionWise Best Seller in 2004. Immortal Ecstasy, a novella in her Immortal Legends Series, is her first publication with Venus Press. Lanette also writes erotic romance as Lani Aames. Visit her websites to find out more about her available and upcoming work.

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