The Midnight Before Me

by Elizabeth Lo

  I know my questions can annoy people sometimes, but why is this supposed great magician tasked with teaching me about a life-changing, country-saving spell so… snarky?

  He takes another sip of his drink, never taking his eyes off me. I muster the courage to glance up just a little bit.

  Eyes that are a striking blue through his red beard, red furniture, and pink, pig-like skin. They pierce me like a knife.

  Like a knife…

  “Clearly you will be learning simply the theory of the curse… transferral, I guess we should call it. Sucre prefers saying ‘breaking’ because he says that this Arimean eye trick makes it seem as if we’re breaking the laws of magic itself… but… well…” He begins to break off into a tangent. “I never listened much to his made-up words anyway. How do you think he got stuck with a name like ‘Sucre’? Sugar. Named that because the boy thought it was cute… look where it got him now?”

  He chuckles to himself.

  “Um… what are you talking about?” My hands are fidgeting in my lap due to the strict look in Phelix’s eyes, but he seems to soften a bit at the mention of Sucre.

  “Ah… just old friends of mine,” he says, eyes suddenly twinkling and looking away from me.

  “Um… right…”

  He chuckles a little more, then realizes what he’s doing and leans back into his chair to look disinterested again.

  “I digress,” Phelix grumbles, taking another sip of his drink and clearing his throat. “Moving back on topic: curse transferal. Right. It’s too risky for me to have you test it out—even for a test run. I can only trust you will understand the theory and the few mechanics of it. But I can at least tell you that, for your kind, it should be fairly easy once you have True Sight activated and you actually… Hold on…” He pulls out a book from underneath the table. The pages of it look as old as dirt, but he rigorously flips through them without a care. When he finds his page, he flicks on a pair of reading glasses and pokes his nose far into the pages. “Ah. Here we go. You… are supposed to… take hold of the curse… Your vision should be pink… and, uh… Oh, here. ‘You’ll feel a pull if you think of the specific magic body you want to move. The curse should start moving out of the people or objects, and its area of effect should get smaller if you just tug on it a bit.’ Also, according to this, the curse should maybe look to be a color in between purple and brown but a little bit more… ‘shiny.’”

  Sighing, he puts down the book. He takes a deep breath.

  “Got that, girl?” he snaps.

  I’m pretty sure I flinched instead of nodding, and I silently sigh at my inability to control this uneasiness within me.

  “May I… see that book?” I ask, leaning forward to see what’s on its cover.

  Phelix just glares at me.

  “No. I gave you what you need to know for this part of the lesson.”

  This part?

  “Take a small break, wrap your head around it. We will review later in the week… If we even have a week… Anyway, I’ll call you back up when it’s been too long.”

  “Okay…” I say, grateful for the opportunity to get a breath of air. His eagle-eyes stick to my back like the unyielding web of a spider. Familiar. So familiar. Who is he really?

  You know who he is, Midnight.

  Just from those eyes. Those striking blue eyes, his magic aura, and his voice. All of it is too unforgettable. It can’t be…

  My immediate thought is just to get out of the room as fast as possible.

  But before I leave, I dare to turn back and ask. “Who are you?”

  Phelix looks at me from above his glasses frame. I try to focus on his mouth as he speaks.

  “You know who I am, girl,” he says. A strangely cruel smile forms under his beard. “You couldn’t have possibly forgotten me of all people, yes?”

  “So you really are…?”

  His icy glare confirms it.

  How interesting to see him masquerading here in this little mansion at the edge of the country. Should I feel angry at seeing him again? Or scared?

  The large door closes behind me leaving me to my own thoughts once more.

  For now, the sight of the worn staircase leading away from his office is a small relief.

  But… knowing him, I have a feeling that this first lesson was the preliminary. Just the set-up for something bigger. Why else would he rush through all that unless there was something much more?

  Yes, there’s really only one person he could be: Felicius Harvey, the one who shattered my illusion two years ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Midnight

  In Berningdale

  The stairwell has a few windows placed sporadically, with little holders for lamps on the opposite side of the windows. Red carpet rolls up the steps, darker in color where it’s been clearly worn down through years of use. I’m not sure if I end up closer to the lower level or Phelix’s office, but either way, somewhere in the middle of the steps, my legs seem to buckle in place.

  So much for trying to control myself.

  Phelix, or really, Felicius Alabus Harvey, isn’t just any magician. He’s the Master Magi. The great of greats. The one that everyone assumes is dead by now because a normal human lifespan can’t warrant a life as long as his. He’s a man known more for his accomplishments than his failures—the right-hand man of the First King, Fantastique Galviton, and one of the only magicians in the world who has achieved complete immunity from aging. He was originally from Ronum—thus his strange name—but during his expedition to the Arimean Islands to study their eyes and magic he got the idea in his head that he should spread their “immortality.” In his first attempt at applying it to the citizens, he was exiled from Galviton by the First King himself. And, only two years ago, he was said to have finally met his end at the hands of Black.

  I’m not entirely sure why Black went after Felicius two years ago, but there are a multitude of possibilities. Long story short, something happened between the two, and, given how much people are already wary of my brother due to his shadow magitype making him and his magic appear to be straight from the depths of hell, Black was accused of murdering a man who never really died and was sentenced to death.

  That’s maybe the biggest reason why I feel so conflicted about Felicius Harvey.

  He convinced my mother that she was going to be a pioneer of magic, and she made the ultimate sacrifice of putting her children at the mercy of an obsessed magician. My brother was the failed prototype; I was the one with the “pretty” eyes. The one who was supposed to be the next step to catapult the world into a new era of undying humans. Meaning, I was meant to be a tool at his disposal.

  But I always wonder if that was really all Felicius’s fault.

  Thinking on it now, I suppose there are a lot of people in my life against whom I could hold bitterness. Bitterness that can only simmer inside of me with nowhere to go. I wish I could just get rid of all it, drop it, but it still remains, jeering at me.

  “Hello there, Midnight,” comes a voice down the spiral steps.

  Artemis Frost emerges from around the bend. Shadows swirl around him, making the stairwell just a little bit darker with his every step.

  Shadows?

  I can’t help but stare. Black’s magitype was like that. He could control the absence of light. A magitype of shadows. The last and only person I’ve ever seen use that sort of magic is him… How is that possible?

  “How’s the lesson going?” Artemis says casually.

  “Okay… Do… you need something?”

  “No, no, not really. I just want to see what the star student is up to.”

  Artemis stops three steps below me and leans forward with a small package.

  “Taking a break…” I reply. “What’s this…?”

  “Breakfast,” he says, giving me a small parcel with a neatly made sandwich.

  It takes me less than a second to dive into it.

  “Can I join you two?” comes another voice down
the hall. Annabelle.

  “Sure,” Artemis calls back.

  Red hair bounces into view as a smiling girl comes bounding up the steps.

  “I was wondering where you went, Arty,” she says playfully.

  He rolls his eyes, and a tension that I hadn’t realized was there dissipates from his body.

  “You don’t always have to follow me, Annie.”

  “Oh, come on… It’s my job.” Annabelle finally makes it up to the stairs to us.

  In a single jump, she plants a kiss on Artemis’s cheek, twists, and lands right next to me on the top step as if she’d been there the whole time.

  “So!” she starts. “What were we talking about?”

  “Nothing much,” Artemis brushes off.

  “We’ve yet to start,” I say, matching her bright smile yet still avoiding her face.

  “I just wanted to come up here and talk with you guys… It’s been a while since I’ve had a fellow girl to talk with,” she says, excitedly grabbing my arm. “So, Midnight… what do most girls these days talk about?”

  Another act, I wonder? But her face looks serious about this one.

  “Oh… Well,” I say, laughing nervously. I didn’t have many friends when I was little except for Black and maybe Marcie, and even then, we mostly talked about… “Chalk. I mostly used to talk about… chalk… with my other friend…”

  “Chalk?”

  “Yeah, chalk.” I want to stop there, but words start tumbling out of my uplifted mouth. “We used to draw on the side of my house and make all these elaborate drawings. It was like having a huge canvas. I would draw things like the background, while she would add in other details… At some point, we both ended up making our own separate drawings, just layered on top of each other. It always looked a bit odd.”

  Did I just… giggle?

  “Ooh, that’s nice…” Annabelle gives me a wide smile. “I’d like to do that too! I never got to do anything like that when I was young… Where’s your friend now?”

  My smile fades, sandwich forgotten.

  “Ah… we’re not close anymore.”

  “Oh.” She nods, understanding immediately. “I see…” She shrugs. Without warning, she hunches over and pretends to smoke a cigar with a gruff voice. “Like any old ass—er, assassin—says, everything has its expiration date.”

  Her impression was so bad yet so good that despite her grim statement, we both laugh at it in unison. It seems we’re both on the same frequency today. I have to press a hand to my mouth to stop myself from laughing too much as she continues her impression, grumbling on about how “them spoiled brats are always so pretentious.”

  Even Artemis chuckles.

  “You remind me of that friend though,” I say. “You’re both… bubbly.”

  Annabelle’s mouth twists.

  “Hmmm… I wouldn’t describe myself that way actually,” she says. “Bubbly… It’s a fun word, isn’t it? I would describe you right now like honey—sweet and going with the flow. But…” Her smile doesn’t change, yet somehow it seems darker. “I’m sure we’re both far from bubbles and honey, aren’t we?”

  Initially, a ripple of surprise goes through me, but it’s quickly replaced with a matching look.

  “I’m glad you’re observant,” I say.

  “Yes. But—” Her face returns to normal. “—everything has a dark and a light side, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed, indeed.”

  “Except curses,” Artemis cuts in. “And maybe diseases or people who are just purely evil.”

  “Aw, Artemis, I agree, but you look at it too one-sided.” She makes an arc with her hand in the air with a whimsical grin. “You need to broaden your horizons.”

  “I don’t need to in order to know what a two year old could pick out. Some things just are evil. Like… murder? How do you justify that?”

  “Oh, there are many ways, Artemis. I don’t know… Like, what if you had to murder a murderer? Does that count as an evil thing to do?”

  He draws his eyebrows together.

  “No… I suppose because it’s a life for a life, you know? Phelix told me that concept originates from hundreds of years ago.”

  “Isn’t that a contradiction?” I ask.

  “No. Because you would be getting rid of someone who did something absolutely unforgivable. And, I’m not saying that there aren’t things that should be only good or bad… But some things no matter how you look at it, are one or the other.”

  “If the world was a painting,” I say, absently, “it would be pretty bland if there were no lights and darks. There should be a strange balance to it.”

  “Hmm… yeah,” he says, his eyes questioning the relevancy of my statement.

  “But… how would I know if the colors I perceive are the same colors you see? Like… if red really looks like my red to you. Or…” I cock my head and smile. “If your black could be my white.”

  Annabelle smiles, which then turns into a giggle.

  “Oh, I see…” she says. “Like I thought—you really are honey in black tea, aren’t you?”

  To my surprise, Artemis joins her, outlaughing her.

  Really loudly. Really high-pitched.

  At first, I think maybe it’s just because he just has a bizarre laugh. But then Annabelle’s voice cuts off immediately, and she stands up, eyes fixated on Artemis.

  Compared to the cold, dangerous look on his face from before, this persona of Artemis is childish and a stark opposite from his earlier awkward, unfriendly attitude. His voice is even higher in pitch as if he’s literally a child giggling away.

  And then he starts jumping around and shaking his arms around his body and puts on a pouty face that just looks hilarious on his more adolescent face.

  “What’s going on…?” I ask, standing up as well, trying as hard as possible not to laugh.

  “Eight.” The immediate change in Annabelle’s tone makes both me and Artemis briefly freeze in place. “Go back.”

  “No!” Artemis whines, crossing his arms together.

  Annabelle groans.

  “I said—”

  SNAP.

  Even I jump at the sound.

  Annabelle’s hands lay poised in front of Artemis’s face. The blood has practically drained from his face, and his eyes are wider than I thought could be possible.

  But Annabelle just smiles at this and steps away.

  “Good.” She returns to her spot next to me while Artemis starts vigorously shaking his head like he’s waking from a bad dream.

  “Which one?” he asks softly.

  “Eight.”

  He sighs and murmurs, “Good.”

  “Um…” I start. “What… just happened?”

  Annabelle blinks in realization.

  “Oh… Right…” She glances at Artemis.

  “I guess we have to explain it to her eventually,” he mumbles, avoiding my gaze.

  “Right. So… When Artemis was about two, he encountered a… curse. This curse causes him to be unable to control what age he is. I know that might sound confusing, but basically, at random points in the day… or sometimes with certain triggers, he loses his memory and that… ‘age’ mentality takes over; most of the time, it’s the ages of major points in his life like Eight. We just call them by their ages, by the way.”

  Artemis nods.

  “Eight isn’t that bad—just a kid version of Arty… But the one you want to watch out for is Six and Two. Two, because that’s the age when he first got cursed, and Six, because… well…” She never finishes.

  “Okay… And… what do you have to do with all of this?” I ask her.

  “Oh me?” She smiles and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “I, um… I’m kind of like his bodyguard, I guess you could say. You know. Ex-assassin-turned-bodyguard-after-a-failed-mission sort of thing. Annabelle Aroma, nineteen years old, at your service.”

  “Oh, how fun.” Things just got even weirder. A cursed illegitimate prince of Galviton and
an ex-whatever-she-just-said. But, strangely, I’d say that just puts us all on a level playing field now.

  “But yeah, that’s about all there is to know about us two,” she continues. “Oh, and… about back in that carriage… Sorry for attacking you… It’s a security thing. We need to make sure you’re the right person. Plus, Phelix periodically changes the trees around the estate, and without a map, you wouldn’t have made it anyway. He’s just a bit paranoid is all.”

  “Indeed… I can see that.”

  “Yeah, obviously,” Annabelle says, laughingly. “Location and all need to be kept a secret from people we don’t fully trust… Nothing against you or anything, but there are a lot of people out to get us. Don’t let him get to you. The man may seem a bit cold on the outside, but he’s really just a nice old geezer once you get past his obsession with immortality.”

  Immortality… My, of all the people Sucre could have brought me to…

  “So, like I thought, Phelix is really just Felicius Har—”

  “Oh, my g—shhh!” Annabelle practically leaps to put a finger to my lips. “We don’t say that name here.”

  “Why?” I whisper back.

  “Felicius Harvey is supposed to be dead.”

  Oh. That’s right.

  “It’s rather unfortunate,” Artemis says, his arms crossed along with his legs. “Now we have to wait here in hiding because that Ruined Boy decided to follow his namesake and ruin Phelix’s career.”

  I freeze.

  “Is that so?” I ask stiffly.

  Artemis’s face darkens.

  “Oh yes… But even more, that monster’s the reason why I’m… like this in the first place. All of me, really. Even my hair. Because I got caught up in… the explosion when he was born… My mother brought me to his birth like it was something to be celebrated. I, unfortunately, took a lot of physical features he was supposed to have… like this weird shiny hair. I’m pretty sure they detained him again after his little outburst two years ago when he attacked Phelix. Don’t know why they let him loose in the first place…”

  “No,” I say.

  “No?”