by Elizabeth Lo
Annabelle bites her lip and elbows Artemis.
“What?” he whispers at her.
“Black—My brother’s…” For some reason, I glance at Annabelle, and she understands immediately.
“Gone,” she finishes for me.
Artemis’s eyes flicker with a partial apology.
“It’s… okay, though… That’s just what you believed about him, I guess.”
Oh… Lafayette was right. What an ugly smile I have on my face right now.
“Midnight, I heard about your ability. Have you died before?” Annabelle asks quickly.
“Yup,” I say, joining her in changing the subject as fast as possible.
“What… What was it like?” She blinks and looks off to the side.
I close my eyes, the vivid imagery coming back to me.
“Awful.”
Well… it seems we’re just not good at choosing positive conversation topics.
Annabelle nods to herself, her finger once again twirling a strawberry red lock.
“Wait,” cuts in Artemis, startling both Annabelle and I. “Your brother killed people, right?”
“What?” It takes me a few seconds to even process the question. “No. No, of course not. He was the most harmless person I’d ever known.”
“Did he leech off of your family’s love for him?”
I laugh nervously. “What are you talking about? No, but… Why are you…”
“Wasn’t he corrupt in any way?” Artemis asks, swallowing deeply and keeping his eyes fixated on the floor.
“No. Maybe a bit awkward at times, but I would never say he was ‘corrupt.’”
“Then… who killed you first?” he asks.
My hand clenches around a loose thread of my shirt for dear life.
“Felicius—no, Phelix.”
“Why?” Artemis presses on.
“Why do you believe those things about my brother?”
“Answer my question,” he snarls in a low voice.
“I first died… Well… He killed me… Just to show off my… ‘ability.’ As a… demonstration.” I fidget under his harsh glare, feeling exposed once again. “I… later learned that when I was born, there was some conflict over whether or not I should have stayed with Phelix in his laboratory, or if I should go back with my mother. If you know the story of my brother…”
Their blanks stares tell me enough.
“When I was five, I saw my brother for the first time,” I say, deciding to start there. “He was… to say the least, barely human. Black was… the pilot experiment for Phelix.”
“Black?”
“My five-year-old self decided to rename him,” I say with a smile. “Anyway, because somehow the curse to create my eyes—I’ll just call them Demon Eyes—can only work with Mover magicians and my brother turned out to be an Assembler, his… fusion to the spell failed… causing the explosion for you, Artemis, and also leading to him being locked up because everyone thought he was dangerous.
“My mother got upset by that… And she had me about four years later, reluctantly allowing Phelix to try once more under the condition that she would retain custody over me. When Phelix’s lab was shut down five years later, she was able to regain custody over Black too… Kind of realizing too late that she had made a mistake.
“But because I grew up in her care, I never learned about… what I really am. And the first time I died happened to be Phelix’s last-ditch attempt to try and salvage his reputation with the Galvitonian Council of Magicians.
“So yeah…” I say, trying to laugh it off. “That’s my sob story.”
Annabelle’s face hasn’t changed one bit throughout the whole story. Artemis, on the other hand, was a storm of emotions the whole way, despite his clear effort to hide it. Tightening his jaw, his eyebrows twitch in and out of place.
Clearly, this is his first time hearing all this.
While Artemis digests this by himself, Annabelle, after glancing at him for the umpteenth time, tries once again to uplift the conversation.
“Midnight, do you like sweets?” she asks.
“Yes, I do. Quite a lot, actually.”
“I know some pastry and sweets shops around the town. I can show you around someday.”
“Annie,” Artemis cuts in. “Do you think Phelix lied to me? If what she says is true, then what does that make Phelix?”
“Well… Phelix was never perfect. No one is,” she says. “What’s done is done. But now, because of Midnight’s curse, she can get rid of the Memento Mori one, right?”
She immediately notices my hesitation.
“But I see you understandably have your doubts about the whole curse-breaking process.”
Annabelle pulls her gaze away from Artemis, despite his very confused-looking self, and faces me head on.
“But Midnight, you said so yourself, didn’t you?” she says. “That death is awful. Those cursed people out there… they remember death just like you do… So in a way, you know exactly how they feel right now. Wouldn’t you want someone to free you of the burden of remembering death?”
“Every day…” I whisper, mostly to myself.
“Then here’s one reason for you. And… the rest is up to you. I’m not gonna give you that earful that Phelix and Sucre might about doing the right thing and saving the country and all that. Just so you know, this whole thing, this decision on whether or not you want to get rid of this curse—it’s also about what you want to do with your life. No one can really force you in this situation… They can persuade you, but they can’t force you. But you shouldn’t sit around wondering what the point of everything is. You should step forward for a meaningful purpose—and this is the perfect chance!”
I take a deep breath.
“Right.” I smile.
“Good,” she says, giving me another grin.
But somehow, that only makes me feel worse. Even so, Annabelle’s infectious smile can’t let mine falter either. Without warning, she springs back into action.
“Yay! So that settles it!” she cheers. “We’re now all officially friends now that we’ve spilled our secrets out to each other!” She grabs my hand and continues to laugh.
Artemis and I try to match her smile, but neither of us can quite fully reach the magnitude she’s able to achieve. Something from what she said before irks me just a little.
“But, you know… you made it seem like it’s going to be life and death,” I say, laughing more to cover up my anxiousness.
Artemis and Annabelle exchange glances, the smiles disappearing from their faces. Mine goes along with.
“What…?” I ask trying to read their faces.
“Actually… That’s why we’re here, Midnight,” Annabelle says softly. “Sucre sent us here to help you through the second part of your lesson.”
The door above opens with a creak, a snap, and a grumpy man’s voice.
“Your break is over,” Phelix says, his voice bouncing down the steps.
I don’t have a good feeling about this. Scarfing down the rest of my sandwich and hoping it’ll stay down, I join them in ascending the stairs in silence.
The door clicks closed behind us, and Phelix flocks back to his desk just like before.
Artemis and Annabelle each take a side of that brown chair I was in before, and I awkwardly sit down between them both, grateful for, yet at the same time worried about, their presence.
Phelix takes a deep breath.
“Now that we’ve gotten the easy part out of the way, this next part…” This time, he finally looks at me genuinely. “Well, just please stay calm and don’t lose your head.”
I nod, but my stomach twists with his every word anyway as those fading smiles on Artemis’s and Annabelle’s faces send my mind flying into the possibilities of what news I will receive.
“I’ve heard that Sucre informed you about the need to use Fantastique’s Stone. Concentrating magic and particles requires an immense amount of energy. The Stone is currently stored in the baseme
nt of the Summer Palace—you’ll know what it is when you see it… Green and obnoxious, just like its namesake. But, to gain the ability to use the Stone, you have to survive its… test, I guess you could you say. Although, you don’t have to worry about that. As long as you have the resolve to use the Stone, the test is quite easy.
“Anyway, during the process for transferring the curse…” he continues. “By moving this curse’s effects onto yourself, you’ll also be moving the spirits into your body… Meaning, you will have many dead souls in you simultaneously, including the ones in Glorieux. ”
“Right.” So I really will be transferring dead souls into myself.
“Spirits that have died and were transferred into other people are part of the effects of the curse. Meaning that… since you can’t possibly survive with all those spirits in you as you will most likely go mad on the spot, we’ll send Annabelle or someone in after you… to kill you before your soul can fuse with the dead ones.”
I bite my lip, memory of my previous deaths coming back. A shudder runs through my body, and I look down at my hands, already pulling the loose thread on the cuff of my sleeve out more and more.
“But this is the important part: this time you will not come back.”
My hands freeze. I can feel the blood drain from my fingertips already.
“You… mean…?” I stutter.
“You will be dead for good. And so… the reason why Sucre didn’t want you rushing in is because you must decide if you’re willing enough to die for the county first. Permanently.” Phelix lazes back in his chair after dumping out his spiel as if the hard part is over. “I suggest you let go of your bitterness towards death. It’ll clear your mind and help make a rational decision.”
Die? Really die? I always considered it, but hearing it like this for the first time… should I be happy?
I try to force a smile again as a mask over the knot in my throat that is currently suffocating me, but it quickly falls.
“I’ve… already died a couple of times…” I state as mechanically as I can. “I’m used to it. But… Why won’t I come back?”
“Pampered by your little ability, huh? Not used to be being mortal, are you,” he says sharply.
“No, no… I didn’t mean that… I just meant… How does it…” Once again, I can’t bring myself to speak or even act properly. I don’t know where to look—the bookshelves? The windows? Anywhere but his eyes.
“Well, now that we’ve gotten that settled…” Phelix continues, ignoring me.
“No. Wait,” Artemis pipes up. “First, Phelix, you need to tell me something.”
Phelix starts to say something, but Artemis doesn’t let him.
“Every day, you’re always talking about the monstrosity of the Ruined Boy who ruined your chances of succeeding. You always say it was his fault, his fault, his fault that he made me this way and messed up everything for you just by existing. Like threatening to kill you, preying off the generosity of his family like a leech… And you also made things up about Midnight, too. I expected her to be ignorant or ‘a bloody crybaby,’ as you put it. Yet… why are you suddenly siding with them now?”
“Boy,” Phelix says, but his knuckles have turned white from gripping his armrest. “Please.”
Artemis barrels on in his usual fashion.
“You’ve always blamed this person just for existing, yet now she’s the only one who can do something. You didn’t make all those things up, did you? Did you?”
“They were a mistake!” Phelix hisses, finally losing his cool. “No, I didn’t lie to you, Artemis but… it’s true that this girl and that wretched brother of hers are most definitely products of my mistakes. Let’s leave this, boy.”
Mistakes, huh… Looks like that’s all we’ll ever be in this man’s eyes, Black. I’m sure you would tell me that it doesn’t matter what people like Phelix and Artemis say about us… but still… it stings just a bit.
I start to stand up, but Artemis steps forward unexpectedly.
“Then…” he breathes. “Can you tell me the truth? Tell us the truth.”
Both Phelix and I are taken aback but for different reasons.
“Why are you so fired up about this, boy?” Phelix demands.
Artemis’s silver eyes flare, sending a chill down my spine. He’s just like his mother.
“You know how I feel about those who twist the truth.”
Phelix opens his mouth to say something more, but nothing comes out.
“I was most definitely not lying, Artemis. I can assure you of that. The Ruined Boy played a hand in everything that happened to me and this girl—he was responsible for the fall of my career. I-I…” He seems to search for words for minutes, yet only seconds pass. It’s strange how my words seemed to flit past him like leaves in the wind, but Artemis’s strike all the nails on their heads.
Phelix decides to turn to me, forfeiting his argument. “You. You were prepared to destroy yourself anyway, right? Doing something like breaking the curse… it’ll make you a hero of the country. Your ability is useful, isn’t it? All you have to do is break the curse. Easy. You’ll be a hero!”
He purses his lips again. Something I’ve learned is a sign of nervousness from him.
“Easy?” I say, barely under my breath. “You think it’s easy to willingly die?”
“Why, yes,” he states coldly, giving me a menacing smile. “Might as well put that unnecessary power to some good, right? It was God’s plan for you the moment you were born, don’t you see? All you have to do is let Him guide you.”
“God.” What a strange concept to fathom. I guess it’s a Ronumese thing—it’s their illusion just as much as the bliss of my old life was mine.
Maybe that was meant to encourage me… but it feels as if the boulder I’ve been desperately pushing to move even just an inch up the mountain has fallen back down another ten feet.
These are the jobs… the tasks that I’ve always resented. Choice? Sucre, you are a fool to expect me to believe that.
Offers ranging from strange handyman jobs to requests to help “further research” to joining underground militia groups to “fight against the oppressive upper class.” What people expect from me never seems to end, but the number of people who know me as me, Midnight, has fallen to a solemn zero.
What I used to love the most in the world was making people smile. Now, here I am, with only an ugly smile left on my face and that very love being the only lackluster reason I’ve come up with to lie to myself that maybe breaking the curse is a good idea.
Chapter Fifteen
Midnight
With Lafayette
The morning greets me with orange light flooding through my closed eyelids, and a world stained with green when I open them.
“Finally up?” a voice calls.
Lafayette stands near the back of the cave. There’s a backpack next to him. When he sees my face, he pauses.
“Rough night?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, just so you know, we’re leaving once I get everything packed.”
“To where?”
“Oh, you know. Civilization.”
Right now, I just got out of Phelix’s office after receiving instructions on the “curse transferal.” It’s strange having two people talking to me at once. I can… somehow focus on both at the same time. I’ve been split in two… yet my consciousness remains the same? If I think about it for too long, my head starts to hurt.
My conversation with Lafayette yesterday still hangs in my mind. Everything he had said… Like Sucre said, the curse is a lot more widespread than I thought. Lafayette has witnessed so many people falling prey to it.
“So…” the soldier says, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Tell me about yourself. Might as well complete the formalities while we’re stuck together.”
He shuffles around, quietly gathering some items into one bag. Even in the shadows of the back of the cave—which I notice he frequents—his presence calls for
attention.
“Well…” I finally say, after debating for a bit. “I… grew up in a small town. With the usual… small-town things, I guess.”
I untangle myself from the sleeping bag and step closer to see if I can help with the packing.
“Oh? Like what? I’m from Falconry, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Like… whole-town celebrations at least once a month, miles of woods all around to explore, knowing the names of everyone on the block…” I grin as I remember.
“Mmhmm?”
“And… Town meetings every week,” I continue, my smile falling. “Oh… No. They haven’t done those ever since…”
My voice falls to a whisper of a breath.
“What was that?”
“I said… no, never mind.”
“Let me guess… Your brother?” he asks. “He was pretty famous, you know.”
So he did hear me.
I hope he doesn’t see me nod too.
“About how I called my eyes cursed…” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I wasn’t exaggerating. They really are cursed.” He’s told me a lot about himself. I should make it even. “You’re probably not going to believe me, but… I… can come back to life after I die.”
I expect to hear laughter. Or an immediate denial. Something along those lines. All I get is nothing, fueling me to go on.
“It’s part of why my eyes look so… unnatural. I don’t know the full… explanation, really…” In fact, I only just learned that I’m not even really a human. “But basically, after I die, an exact copy of the last undying state I was in is just… recycled, I guess? And bam, I’m back to life with a disappearing dead body at my feet.”
I see him reach for his gun lying next to him.
“Oh, I would prefer it if you didn’t try to test it out…” I say instinctively, my fingers twitching in anticipation to snatch the weapon out of his hands.
He just chuckles.
“No, no, I wasn’t going to. I believe you,” he says, instead putting his silver pistol in its holster.
“Really?”
He believes me? Already? Why?
“I do. Aren’t you that girl from that little theatrical exhibition they held two years ago? The one where some old man murdered a little girl—whom I presume was you—in cold blood and then she reappeared moments later, alive?”
