Kissing Midnight

by Rede, Laura Bradley

  “But it’s a moot point,” I remind her—and myself. Saintly has to die. There’s no time to find a replacement. I’m surprised by my own disappointment, but it’s not because I’m getting attached. It’s only because of her gift, I think. That’s all that makes her special.

  And if she’s special in other ways?

  But of course, they are all special to someone.

  No, I correct myself, don’t think that way. It doesn’t matter what they mean to anyone else. It only matters what they mean to me.

  And what does Saintly mean to me? She’s a midnight girl. She has to be.

  But thinking of her upstairs, sleeping peacefully in my bed, I can’t help wishing there were some other way.

  Chapter 20

  Saintly

  The next day passes like a dream. We still have Por Toujours to ourselves, so we linger over brunch of omelets and bacon and light, fluffy pastry. My heart feels light and fluffy, too—fluffy as the lazy snowflakes that drift past the dining room windows, light as the late-morning sunshine that glitters off the frost. We savor our coffee by the fireplace, chatting about books and movies, about everything and nothing. Dev looks even more handsome than usual, even in his worn jeans and flannel shirt, the firelight bringing out the red in his messy morning curls. Just looking at him brings me back to last night, and I smile into my coffee cup, my face going warm with the memory. Delia had warned me the first time would be awkward, but sex with Dev was anything but. He was so sure of himself, but gentle, too. I had worried that I might have regrets, or that sleeping together might change things between us, but if anything, being with Dev only feels more comfortable than before.

  True, I can feel his friend Antoinette watching me all day, as she refreshes our coffee and clears away our plates, but if she guesses I slept with Dev for the first time—even if he told her—what does it matter? And if she’s a little jealous, let her be. I feel like someone who should be envied today. There’s a feeling spreading through me, the way the honeyed morning sunlight spreads across the hardwood floors, and I recognize it like an old friend I never thought I’d see again: Happiness. For the first time in ages I feel happy and relaxed and perfectly, blessedly normal.

  By the time our car pulls away from Por Toujours, this whole being-happy thing is starting to come back to me, the way Spanish always comes back to me when I visit my grandmother. I think about how, a day or two into the visit, I start getting my Tio Julio’s jokes and following my abuelita’s rapid-fire prayers. I wonder if I’ll be speaking fluent happiness soon, dreaming in happiness at night. At any rate, I’m sure there won’t be nightmares, not if I’m curled up with Dev. The very thought makes me smile as I turn up the car radio, stealing glances at him. He’s driving one-handed, just so he can hold my hand.

  But the closer we get to campus, the more foreign happiness starts to feel, and when Dev pulls over to the side of the road about a half-hour from home, I feel the old, familiar worry coming back.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you pulling over?”

  “I just wanted to to talk to you about something.” Dev smiles reassuringly. “You know, before we get home.”

  “Okay…” I watch him warily, silently cursing myself for relaxing. I should have known this morning was too good to be true. “What about?”

  He’s still holding my hand. He gives it a little squeeze. “About what you told me last night on the bridge. About seeing your brother.”

  Crap. My happy mood vanishes as the worst-case scenario mushrooms in my mind. He’s going to tell me he can’t handle my insanity, that this is too much to deal with. And who can blame him? Dev has been through a lot, too. I toy with my seatbelt nervously, wishing it could protect me from the emotional crash to come. “You think I’m crazy, right?”

  “No. I actually don’t.” Dev’s blue eyes are serious. “Totally the opposite, actually. I think you’re totally sane. I just think you can see ghosts.”

  A strange feeling floods me, a mixture of relief and revulsion. I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me I’m sane, but… “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” The words taste false. I know the ghosts are real; I’ve known it since I talked to Jesse. But Dev is the first living person to say it out loud.

  “I think they’re real,” Dev says simply. “And I think you do, too.”

  “Why do you think they’re real?” I’m not ready to commit to believing just yet.

  Dev’s eyes drift back to the road in front of us. “Let’s say I’ve had experiences of my own.”

  Experiences. My mind races, trying to imagine what he’s talking about. Did he see his girlfriend Kayla after she died? I want to ask him, but something in his expression stops me.

  “Nothing near as strong as your experiences, I’m sure,” he adds. He sounds almost admiring, as though my ability to see ghosts is something to be envied. It makes me want to laugh bitterly. I’m sure his experiences weren’t as “strong” as mine—or as horrible.

  Although, I have to admit, it feels good to have Dev believe me. Good in a scary way.

  Dev takes a deep breath. “The thing is, Saint, I believe in this stuff, and I believe it’s dangerous.” He turns angles himself toward me in his seat so he can look me in the eye. “And I need you to humor me on something.”

  I feel like the conversation has gone off into strange territory. Dev wants me to humor him? “Sure,” I say. “Of course. What is it?”

  “I want you to promise me if you ever see another ghost, you’ll send it into the light.”

  It sounds ridiculous, but he looks so serious. “I… I wouldn’t know how.”

  “It’s easy. You just have to command it. Really put the weight of your intention behind it, visualize it going, and say lux vos liberabit. Say it.”

  “Lux vos liberabit?” I make it sound Spanish by mistake. “That’s Latin, right? What does it mean?”

  “The light will set you free.”

  Free. It sounds so reassuring. For a second, I imagine my brother, bathed in warm light. I’d like to believe he’s free.

  And I’d like to believe that bringing my secret to light will set me free, too. I’d like to believe it will only make things between Dev and me stronger. “Okay,” I say tentatively. “I can do that.”

  “Promise me.” Dev takes my other hand in his, so he’s hold both tightly. “No matter what the ghost looks like, no matter what they say, you’ll do it.”

  I imagine the monster from Westgate, its huge eyes burning in the dark. “You mean if it’s horrible? That I shouldn’t be afraid?”

  “I mean, even if it looks normal, like a regular person. Even if it looks like an ordinary girl.”

  Instantly I think of Jesse. It’s almost like he knows about her! I imagine her pale gray eyes looking at me with compassion. Could I send her into the light? “What if… What if they’re harmless?”

  “How could you tell?” Dev’s eyes search mine with such intensity. For a minute I remember him standing outside the warehouse, how his blue eyes seemed to burn behind the wolf mask. “Trust me, Saintly, looks can be deceiving. You can’t tell the good from the bad just by looking.”

  I certainly learned that at Westgate. The things I saw there could warp in an instant. They were never what they seemed. “True.”

  “So promise me you’ll say it, no matter what. Do you promise?”

  His eyes search mine. This matters so much to him.

  He really loves me.

  I look him in the eye. “I promise.”

  Dev lets out his breath in a sigh of relief. “Good.” He smiles, and his whole face lightens. I feel lighter, too, like a weight has been lifted. Dev pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you. I couldn’t stand to lose you, too.”

  I put my arms around him and hug him back, and for a minute I feel bathed in light myself. I’m glad I promised. I’m glad I told him the truth. I don’t want there to be any m
ore deceptions and omissions and half-truths between us.

  Lux vos liberabit. The light will set you free.

  I repeat the magic words over and over in my mind as we drive toward school, the rhythm of them blending with the slap of the windshield wipers as the snow comes down harder and wetter. Inside the car, I feel safe and warm. I have no idea if the words will really work, but knowing them makes me feel more secure. They remind me of my abuela’s furtive prayers to San Antonio, or the way she would cross herself the moment anyone mentioned anything bad, from gambling to cancer. Who knows if her prayers did any good, but they made her feel stronger, and isn’t that worth something? I’m inclined to think it is, and as we pull back into campus, I’m feeling more confident than I have in ages.

  But some of my confidence drains away when I see Jesse. She’s waiting for me in the empty lobby of the dorm, and she looks like she has been up all night. Her bleach-blond hair is even messier than usual, and there are deep shadows under her eyes. They make her look more ghostly than ever. She stands up the minute she sees us, her expression full of relief. “You’re back! I’ve been waiting for you. I need to talk to you.”

  I feel guilty, like I used to when my mom would sit awake on the couch, waiting for my brother and I to come home. But why? I didn’t ask Jesse to wait for me.

  I don’t answer. I don’t want Dev to know I’m seeing her. Instead, I smile up at him. “You know,” I say, “I think I’ll go take a look around for Delia.”

  Dev looks surprised. I’m sure he thought we were going to hang out, and I feel a pang of loss at the missed opportunity. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

  I shake my head. “I think she’s feeling a little neglected lately.” It’s not exactly a lie. Delia isn’t used to being the one without a boyfriend, and she has been acting “off” lately. “I better go check in with her, make sure we’re cool.”

  Dev smiles knowingly. “Ah. Girl talk. You want to tell her about our weekend.”

  I duck my head. “Maybe.”

  Dev takes both of my hands in his. He lowers his voice. “What are you going to tell her?”

  I give him a goofy smile, and I know I’m blushing. “That it was amazing.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Jesse scowl at the floor. Dev, however, looks victorious. “It was amazing for me, too.” He kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine.

  Jesse clears her throat impatiently.

  Dev can’t hear her, of course, but I pull reluctantly away.

  “Fine,” Dev says, “you go catch up with Deals while I put my stuff back in my room. But can I catch up with you later?”

  My heart flutters. “Can’t stand to be away from me?”

  His eyes meet mine, serious. “Trust me. Every minute counts.”

  I couldn’t agree more. Right now I’m dying to be alone with Dev, but Jesse is bouncing impatiently on her toes. “Just give me a half an hour,” I say, “Then meet me back at my room, okay?”

  “Okay.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you then.” He shoulders his overnight bag and heads back out the doors into the bright December cold.

  I wait until he’s well out of sight before I head for the little student lounge off the lobby. It’s deserted, the lights off, shades drawn. Jesse follows me through the door, and I lock it behind us so no one will come in. “What is it?”

  “Are you okay?” She looks genuinely worried.

  “I’m fine.” I keep my voice a low whisper, even though I know we’re alone. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I mean, besides the fact that I’m talking to a ghost.

  “I didn’t know where you went or how to find you.” I can tell she’s hurt, even though she’s trying not to show it, and I feel guilty for standing her up. But why should I? I don’t really know this girl, and I don’t owe her anything. It’s not like she’s really part of my life. She’s not part of anyone’s life, really.

  “Listen,” I say lamely, “about the other night. I didn’t mean to ditch on our plan. Dev surprised me with an overnight. I didn’t know I would be leaving.”

  “It’s fine,” she says quickly. “I’m glad you went. Safer for you that way, and it means I got the chance to do a little investigating in the library. I found something in the school archives, a picture of the ghost girl I told you about and an article about her disappearance.”

  I feel cold. I don’t want to talk about disappearances and deaths and ghosts, not now when my life is finally getting warm and sunlit and normal. “I’m sorry she disappeared,” I say evenly, “and I’m sorry she died, but I can’t get sucked into it. If it was in the archives, it’s old news. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “A hundred years old. Yes.” Jesse looks me in the eye. “And it has everything to do with you because the boy standing with her in the picture is Deveraux Renard.”

  I stare at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it was him! His name, his face. He looked exactly like he does now.”

  “But that’s impossible.” My legs feel weak. “You said it was a hundred years ago.”

  “It was. New Years Eve, 1899. That’s the last time anyone saw her.” Jesse reaches for my hand. Her eyes are full of sympathy. “Saintly, I know you don’t want to hear this—”

  “Then why are you saying it?” I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes. Just when my life was getting better! At Por Toujours I feel like I had finally gotten my head above water, taken a big gulp of air, and now Jesse is dragging me back under, into the insanity. I can’t breathe.

  “I’m sorry, Saintly.” Her voice is gentle. “But you have to hear me. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I know Dev Renard is a threat to you. If you stay with him, he’s going to hurt you.”

  “You don’t know that.” I want to cover my ears so I don’t have to listen to her. “You don’t know Dev at all!”

  “Do you? I mean, do you really?”

  “Yes!” I do know Dev. Maybe not everything about him, but a lot. Enough.

  “How well?” She’s watching me closely. “What do you know about his past?”

  “Enough to know he wasn’t alive a hundred years ago! That picture can’t be him! It has to be a coincidence, someone who looks like him—”

  “Who else looks like him?”

  “Or a relative! Maybe he’s a legacy student. Maybe he had an ancestor here—”

  “I thought the same thing. But it was him, Saintly. I know it.” Jesse’s eyes are steely with determination. “I could tell. As soon as I saw it, I had this feeling…”

  “Oh, you had a feeling! I should just go by your feeling? Hang my whole life on your feeling?” But the truth is, I’m having the same feeling, a horrible, cold emptiness, like I’m being hollowed out at the core. It’s like an instinct I never knew I had is setting off an alarm system deep inside me.

  I squash it down. “Where is this picture, then?”

  She looks down at her hands, embarrassed. “I tried to bring it to you, but my hands don’t always work to pick up physical things. I have to concentrate hard or they slip right through. I managed to tear it out, but when I got outside—”

  “So there’s no picture.”

  She shakes her head, ashamed. “I tried to hold onto it, but I couldn’t. It slipped through my fingers and the wind took it.”

  “The wind took it.” I’m studying her.

  She sees the skepticism in my eyes. “You don’t believe me? Why would I say it if it isn’t true?”

  “How should I know? You said I was only one who could see you. Maybe you don’t want me spending time with Dev. Maybe you’re mad I stood you up. Maybe you’re jealous because I’m alive and in love and—”

  “No! It’s none of that!”

  “Or because you see me moving on with my life and you can’t!”

  “I’m just trying to help!” But I can tell by the way she looks away that something has struck close to the nerve, and it gives me hope. How do I know she
hasn’t made it all up?

  I wish I was making this all up. A week ago, I would have considered Jesse a figment of my imagination, and it would have made perfect sense. This is exactly the sort of thing people make up to sabotage themselves when things start going right. I don’t feel like I deserve Dev, so I’m making up reasons I can’t have him. I can almost hear what Dr. Sterling would say about survivor’s guilt. Jesse is my way of dragging myself back down. “How do I know you’re not the threat?”

  Jesse takes a step back, hurt registering in her gray eyes as surely as if I’d slapped her.

  But she’s not going to drop it. “It isn’t just the picture. I spied on that ghost, Charlotte.”

  I watch her warily. “The one who was trying to warn me about something.”

  “About Dev, I’m sure of it. But they aren’t trying to warn you anymore. I heard her talking with another ghost and they said they were running out of time, so they had to change the plan.” She takes a deep breath. “Saintly, she said they were going to kill you.”

  “No.” I turn away from her. “That doesn’t make sense. They can’t save me, so they’re going to kill me themselves?”

  “I don’t understand it, either.” Jesse looks helpless. “I know there’s something we’re missing, some explanation, so I went to his room to try to find it.”

  “You’ve been messing around in Dev’s room?”

  “I had to. And there’s a box, there, Saintly. I can’t explain it, but it has this… darkness about it. There’s a face on the handle that looks like it’s in agony, and there are words carved into it. ‘Bold, be bold, but not too bold…’”

  “Or your hearts blood shall soon run cold.” My mind finishes the quote for me against my will, and it all comes back to me. Those are the words carved into the door in my dream. But it doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never seen the box, so how could I dream about it? I feel like my life is collapsing around me like a house of cards, all the things I’ve tried to keep separate falling into each other, dragging me down with them. I shut my eyes, grabbing hold of the back of the couch beside me. I’m shaking. What does it mean? If the dream was really a warning, is Jesse right? Was it trying to warn me about Dev? I press my thumb hard against the heart tattoo on my wrist, like I’m putting pressure on a bleeding wound. Dev is the only good thing in my life right now. I can’t afford to lose him. I remember the way he held me in the car, the way he whispered I couldn’t stand to lose you, too.