by Rhiannon Lee
Midnight Starling
A Midnight Starling Detective Agency Novel
Rhiannon Lee
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
A NOTE FROM RHIANNON
Midnight Starling Copyright © 2021 by Rhiannon Lee. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: March 2021
This book is dedicated to everyone who made it out the other side of 2020. We’ve been through a lot this year, thank you for holding on.
I love you, and I’m proud of you.
;
Prologue
It was time. The air in the narrow glass greenhouse suctioned in toward me like a vacuum. I brushed a hand across my face, pushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see the tiny orb clearly. At first, it merely flickered. It started as the size of an acorn before it grew and shrunk back to the same state. After a few moments, the cycle increased in frequency until it finally settled and nestled back against the soil of the pot it had been resting in for months.
Poor darling, being born has to be arduous work, I thought.
My breath hitched in anticipation as the tiny Godkin moved again. This time there was no wavering. It flared outward steadily, becoming brighter and sharper as it expanded from the size of a pebble to that of a cat. It was too large for the flowerpot now and seemed to rise instinctually before drifting toward the ground at my feet. I’d only seen a Godkin grow from infancy once, and it was from a distance. It seemed like such a personal thing, but all I could feel was astonishment and excitement. Whoever emerged on this night would be in my charge—to cherish and care for until they were old enough to be on their own.
Finally, hovering an inch above the ground, the orb sprouted tiny arms and legs; the form taking on a more solid existence. The center fought to expand and form the torso of the child to be.
Instead of growing outward from the center out like its limbs, the infant’s glowing face gradually came into view. Its transparent features solidified from the neighboring energy of other Godkin blooms swaying in encouragement, their own pots lining the aged wooden table. Still unconscious yet linked to their kin on this extraordinary day.
With one last swoosh of air to signal its metamorphosis was complete, a perfectly formed baby girl lay peacefully in front of me. Her clear blue eyes shone with an awareness not generally present on a newborn’s face when they fluttered open.
When her gaze finally discovered me, her hands and feet wriggled as if she understood why I was there. Without pause, I scooped her up and drew her body to my chest.
“It’s alright little one. I’m here. Everything is okay,” I murmured into her hair. Not a single cry escaped her lips, which was suddenly a concern I couldn’t ignore. Weren’t babies expected to cry as soon as they were formed?
Cradling her against my arm, I inspected her. I fixated on her chest. The healthy rising and falling pattern calmed my nerves enough for me to check the rest of her. Her wet pink lips formed a tiny circle as she silently watched me back. She had ten perfect fingers, and ten toes the size of tiny beans. Her skin was a pastel pink, and there was not a mark on her to suggest anything was amiss.
An exhale of relief escaped my lungs as I pulled her back against me. Snuggling her, I placed a kiss on the top of her head. Her hair was as silky as down feathers. Her sweet scent reminded me of honey. When she squirmed again, I sat down on the low bench behind me and plucked the fresh garment I had thoughtfully selected for her. It was solid white and dotted with little yellow bees.
She yawned as I settled her down beside me and pulled her arms through the holes. I went to pick her back up but remembered the diaper and socks I had also brought. Still mesmerized by the beautiful living gift before me, I hazily fitted her bottom and feet, then swaddled her up in a blanket. Still, not a sound left her. Confident that she was okay, I chalked it up to how exhausted she must be after all the effort it took to be formed into this world.
With a smile, I stood up, held her close to me, and stepped toward the exit.
Once I was outside, I whistled the familiar spell that would take us home. The air sucked in again, and in a flash, I transported us to the bushes just off the side of a parking lot that would lead to my apartment. It wasn’t a grand dwelling, but it had two bedrooms, and was in a peaceful neighborhood. I had chosen it as carefully as I had my charge’s first outfit.
Before my feet could move, Isaac came into view. His expression was a blend of elation and interest. He hadn’t been allowed to come. A fact that still pained me. But him being a Mimic, it just wasn’t permitted. Only Godkin could access the nurseries which housed growing Godkin children.
“Is that…?” he started, his eyes scanning my arms, trying to glimpse at my cargo.
“Yes, and she’s perfect,” I responded. The giddiness in my voice brought a grin to his lips.
“May I?” he asked.
I handed him the tiny bundle in reply. I’d never seen such reverence on his face until he cradled the tiny babe.
He carefully pulled her blanket down and ran his fingers along her plump leg and then up across her cheek. “Bees,” he whispered. It was almost a question.
I nodded. “It suits her, doesn’t it?”
“She’s so small,” he announced.
“Babies are small,” I acknowledged with a tilt of my head.
“I know, but I don’t think I knew.”
“We should get her inside. The guise can’t wait, it has to be tonight. I can sense her power already,” I said.
“It seems so wrong to lock up her magic that way,” he replied.
“It’s only for a little while, she won’t survive otherwise. It would consume her, Isaac,” I said, a tinge of guilt occupying my tummy. I didn’t like it either. His people didn’t have to do this to their children when they were born, and he had never been around Godkin who hadn’t been contained. I had, and I still had nightmares from time to time. Nothing was comparable to watching a young child suffer before dying horribly. Especially when it could have been avoided. Godkin were too powerful for this world, and our bodies when we were born. In the past, some had made it to adulthood without something to restrain their powers, but the survival rate was abysmal. And only those with the weakest magic could do so.
“I’m sorry. How long will you leave it on her?” he asked, glancing into my eyes. My concern must have shown, because he spun and took off toward the apartment building without pressing me further.
>
I quickly followed behind, anxiously scouting our surroundings for any danger.
Once we were inside and I secured the door behind us while Isaac gingerly sat down on the couch. “Bee,” he uttered into the little bundle.
“Bee?” I asked when he said it again.
“Bee,” he repeated.
I grinned anew. He was right. It was brilliant. “Alright then. But spelled B-E-A. Short for Beatrice.”
A tear welled up in the corner of his eye. “I didn’t even think about…”
I smiled affectionately. “I know you didn’t. But it fits, I think. Don’t you?”
He nodded. “Beatrice after my sister. She will wear the name well and keep her memory alive.”
“She will,” I assured him.
He peered back down at her slight form, his gentle expression pulling at my heart.
“Hello Bea. My name is Isaac. Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Since we were on the topic of names… “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for her to call me mom,” I murmured softly.
“Poppy, you can’t do that. You know the laws. If the Tolve council finds out, they will take her from us.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a heavy breath. “I just don’t understand why we have to tell her she’s adopted. She’s been mine since day one, aside from the care that Matt provided to her.”
“I don’t have all the answers, but I know I love her already and I don’t want to risk losing her,” he said. It was rare that he, as a Mimic, would have the chance to help care for and rear a Godkin child. That meant that the stakes were even higher for him. It had taken me months to get the council to agree to what would be his constant presence in her life. And that was only after I promised I would make sure he didn’t have too much influence over her upbringing. It was ultimately a half truth. I trusted Isaac with my life and knew he wouldn’t do anything to risk her wellbeing. I had no intention of limiting his contact with her.
“I know they say it’s imperative for the guise to work properly, but it seems so heartless.”
“She will have a better childhood than you did. That’s what’s important,” he reminded me.
“You’re right,” I conceded. And he was. I was letting my own struggles affect my decision making instead of considering the situation as it honestly was. If I didn’t cooperate, and they placed her in someone else’s care, her life certainly could turn into the nightmare mine was. I needed to think of Bea, not myself.
I scooped the little bundle from Isaac’s arms and held her out so she could see my face. “Hello little Bea, I’m Poppy. I promise we will always take care of you and love you, no matter what.”
Chapter 1
Poppy
I whistled a spell to ruffle my friend’s already rumpled hair. Isaac’s lanky limbs were sprawled over the edge of the couch in abandon. His knuckles rested on the carpet, but his fingertips pointed skyward at nothing. His unresponsiveness made me huff and try the simple long base note again. My lips drew taut as I pushed out a cat call for the second time. Rough on my lips, but effective. Some fed up Godkin from ages ago convinced a group of persistently rude guys it was a wonderful idea to whistle a skin irritant spell at a female passerby. This time, Isaac’s lip twitched once at the cat call before his face fell slack again.
“Isaac, wake up,” I said, pushing on the slumbering giant’s shoulder.
“Geesh Poppy, what is it?” he grumbled. Finally.
“Bea is out doing private eye stuff again.”
He sat up and scrubbed his eyes. “Yeah, well, it is her job. Is that why you interrupted my dream? Why do you smell like cookies?” His lips curved up in a knowing grin.
Gods above, I adored him and his single crooked bottom tooth. It was the only flaw in his mouth, but he wouldn’t have been Isaac without it. I didn’t get to see it often enough, which made moments like this remarkable.
His smile only lingered a moment. My joy dropped when it did.
“I don’t understand why she has to roam around all hours of the night watching humans. It’s unnatural.”
Despite his lessened magical abilities, Isaac’s cleverness made up for any of his magical shortcomings. Mimics could shape-shift and sometimes hold unique abilities or skills. They were characterized by their power, but it was hardly comparable to the natural power of a pure Godkin.
He rolled his eyes and groaned. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Isaac, I’m serious. She’s going to get hurt, or worse, get devoured by a stray cat,” I said exaggeratingly as I and sat down on the couch beside him. “Why aren’t you in your bed?”
Isaac scooted over to give me more room. “First, you were ten times worse than Bea before they removed your guise. And she’s careful. Hell, she hasn’t even told us she shifts into a bird and we’re her family. Second, I fell asleep watching television again. Why are you being so paranoid anyway?” he challenged.
I heaved a sigh. “I’m not sure that her deciding to keep it a secret is a good thing.”
“We haven’t told her we know either,” he replied crisply.
“Maybe we should. I’m tired of waiting for her to come to us about it.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure she knows we know; she just doesn’t want to talk about it.”
He was probably right, but I didn’t have to like it. Bea’s ability to transform into a bird was a hovering unspoken fact that we all pretended didn’t exist.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why do you care what kind of job she has? She’s wonderful at it and it makes her happy.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and sagged back against the cushions. “Because I’m concerned and I just… I wish she’d get a conventional job with regular hours,” I huffed.
“How motherly of you,” he said flatly.
I had been attempting to back off Bea to avoid smothering her. And he knew it.
“Alright, fine! I’m terrified once we tell her the truth, she’s going to hate me because I’ve lied to her for so long, and I can’t keep the guise on her forever.”
“It’s been time to tell her, Poppy.”
“I know!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. They came back down with a smack against the top of my thighs.
Isaac glanced at the clock sitting on his coffee table beside a set of coasters. “Don’t you have someplace to be instead of brooding about what our girl is doing?”
“Work. If I go,” I said, and exhaled forcefully.
“You never answered my other question.”
I leaned into him and propped my head on his shoulder. “What question?”
“Why do you smell like sugar cookies?” he repeated.
Oh. “Stress baking.”
He wiggled his shoulder to remove my head. “Go. I’ll make sure Bea is all right. And I’ll call you when she gets home.”
“Promise?” I asked, leaning my weight on him again. Even if he drove me batty with his truth telling, like a security blanket, the warmth of his body soothed the knot in my stomach.
Isaac stood up and made shooing gestures with his hands so I could no longer use him as a pillow, or an excuse. “Yes, now get out of my flat.”
I slumped to the side, then rose to my own feet, shoulders drooping, and headed toward the exit.
“I’m serious, go,” he repeated with a familiar ‘you’re overreacting’ tone. I expected he was right, but still it made me want to lob something at his skull.
Being a Godkin wasn’t always glitter and serenades. Keeping secrets from someone you raised and loved hurt. Isaac kept me sane through it all. Mostly. He knew what it was like keeping Bea in the dark for her own safety. He had to do it too, but it didn’t seem to bother him as greatly as it did me. I dragged my feet as I trudged down the steps from the second floor. Bea and I lived right below him on the first floor.
“She will be fine,” I muttered to myself as I unlocked my apartment. The light was still off. The only sound came from the lone ticking wall clock
in the kitchen.
I whistled a simple trill of a light spell that illuminated the interior so I could find my way to my room and change. A scratching noise gave me pause, and I made my way toward it. Through Bea’s stark white paned bedroom window, I saw Isaac’s gray furry feline form lying on the sill. His coloring matched his default mood. Good. He truly was going to follow her. At least once she returned, he would. It seemed fitting for his other form to be a surly looking alley cat.
I mouthed a thank you and spun around to my room.
Once clad in my favorite worn-in sweater and pants combo, I left the apartment, tucked myself out of sight into the bushes, and whistled again. This time my tune was richer, a more sophisticated set of notes playing all along the musical scale—a song I memorized long ago. Once it transported me to my destination, I looked around and yawned. I’d always had a knack for transportation magic, but it was still pretty powerful stuff, and often left me tired for a few moments. A series of greenhouses greeted me, their lights contrasting against the night sky with a blue tint that invited me forward.
It was tranquil, a place out of time near the city. Partly because it was isolated by a near inaccessible circle of trees, and partly because it looked set in the past due to its lack of technology. The only hint to a modern world was the electrical line running in to deliver light to the otherwise total darkness of the area. And unlike modern greenhouses, they had strung the lighting on cords instead of fixtures fitted into the roof. The way they seemed to float along the walls of glass reminded me of Christmas lights, which added to the spirit of the place. These small moments away from the busy noises of the city and the constant clamor of machinery were imperative for my inner peace. A reprieve from the ears of humanity. A small privilege that I craved. And usually, a time when I let my concerns over Bea momentarily fade. She was already an adult which meant she’d soon know she really was a Godkin, like me. Honestly, my fear of losing her stopped me from letting her blossom into the extraordinary being she was born to be. I just wasn’t ready to let her go. The reality of which was a somber reminder that her innocence could not last. The world was often more complex than she knew, and much of it depended on our kind to keep it flowing and healthy with the magic that so many didn’t even realize existed.
