Kissing Midnight

by Rede, Laura Bradley

  And, oh, the guests! They’ve outdone themselves with the costumes. I see princesses and knights, fairy godmothers and wicked queens. A mermaid in a sequined tail shimmies past us, followed by a dapper wolf and a pair of playing cards. A fairy with huge, shimmering wings dances with a woodsman all in leather. A woman in a long, golden wig and a man in a bear suit pose on the royal thrones, smiling for the camera below. It’s all so beautiful, and in the center of it all—

  Delia. She’s dressed as Cinderella in a silver mask and her pale blue gown. Her golden hair is curled and piled high on her head. Above her, a banner reads “Happily Ever After” and beside her…

  Dev. My heart stutters when I see him. He looks so perfect it almost hurts. He’s dressed as Delia’s Prince Charming, a long, blood-red cape clasped over his sleek black tux, a slim gold circlet crown nestled in his copper curls, a black mask over his eyes. And in his hand, a box. I’m sure anyone else would assume it’s a prop piece to hold the other glass slipper, but Jesse and I know the truth: It’s the box, the gateway to the nightmare castle, the prison of four centuries of midnight girls.

  I focus on the image of the midnight girls hanging from their bloody hooks. I force that image to the front of my mind because, if I don’t, there’s no way I can bring myself to try to stop him. Smiling and laughing with Delia, he looks so much like the Dev I loved.

  I pull up the hood of my cape, hoping that, between it and the mask, I won’t be recognizable at first glance. Quietly, Jesse and I steal toward them, keeping close to the shadows of the papier mache trees. Soon we are close enough to hear them talk.

  Dev glances up at the set-piece clock tower. From here I can see it has been fitted with a real clock face, keeping real time. My heart jumps into my throat. Eleven forty-four.

  “Not much longer now.” Dev graces her with a charming smile. “Listen.” He takes her hand. “I was thinking, there’s a balcony off the floor above us. If we headed up there now—”

  “Now?” Delia looks at the clock, alarmed. Up close, I can see how tired she looks. There are shadows under her eyes. “Don’t you want to be here at the party when the clock strikes midnight?”

  He smiles. “If we are, won’t your coach turn back into a pumpkin?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” He reaches up and touches her hair, twisting one golden ringlet idly around his finger. He lowers his voice. “I just want a moment alone with you, Delia, to start the New Year right. We’ve both been through so much lately…” He tugs the curl gently. “Besides, you promised me a midnight kiss.”

  “Well…” Delia scans the party and I hold my breath. Delia is the ultimate hostess. She won’t want to leave now, at the grand finale.

  “Please?” Dev takes her hand and brings it up to his heart, his eyes searching hers. “We’ll have a perfect view of the fireworks from there. I just don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

  I can see Delia cave, her resolve folding. “Okay.” She smiles shyly at him. “But just for a little bit, okay?”

  “The last few minutes of the year is all I ask. Just to bring it to a happy ending. I promise.”

  “We’ll miss the champagne toast,” Delia smiles.

  Dev glances at the clock again, making sure he has the time. “I’ll steal us a couple of glasses now.” He smiles easily, like everything is settled. “You head up to the balcony and I’ll be there in a minute. Here—” He takes off his cape with a flourish and drapes it around her shoulders. “In case it’s cold.”

  “Thank you.” Delia smiles back, and I feel a flash of fury. How can she be here with him now, knowing I loved him? Believing I’m locked up somewhere? Isn’t she supposed to be my friend? For a dark second, I want to just leave her, to decide she deserves what she gets.

  But Dev is a master, I remind myself. No doubt he comforted her, bonded with her over their mutual concern for me, maybe even played the hero for having spotted me on the tower and called the cops. That thought makes me more furious than anything else. Jesse is the one who saved me. If she hadn’t climbed the tower, hadn’t grabbed my hand when I fell…

  I take her hand again now, and it calms me. Delia deserves my anger, but she doesn’t deserve to die. I have to remember who the real threat is.

  Dev gives Delia a last wave as she turns and heads up the stairs to the third floor.

  “This is it,” Jesse says. “Our only chance.”

  I know she’s right. I follow Delia at a distance, watching as she opens the wide French doors to let in a blast of cold December air. Wrapping Dev’s cloak tight around her, she steps out onto the balcony, a fairytale vision in her flowing gown. Across the quad, the golden face of the clock tower smiles at her.

  Eleven fifty.

  Dev will be here any second.

  Suddenly, there is nothing to be but bold. I take off my hood and toss my mask aside. Gripping the wooden sword for courage, I step onto the balcony behind her. “Delia.”

  She startles and spins to face me, eyes wide. “Saintly? What are you doing here? I thought—”

  “We don’t have time, Deals. You have to listen. You can’t kiss Dev at midnight because if you do you’ll—”

  “Die,” she says, “I know.” She doesn’t look afraid or even confused. Instead, her eyes are full of pity. “Oh, Saintly. Dev told me all about the delusions—how you think he’s some sort of monster? Some sort of god? How he lives forever by taking girls’ souls?”

  “He does.” I have to work to keep my voice calm. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen them hanging from their meat hooks in his castle, and I know that’s where you’ll be if you kiss him.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She steps forward, reaching out to lay one white-gloved hand on my shaking shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea it had gotten this bad.” Her blue eyes fill with tears. “We’re going to get you help.”

  “I don’t need help. What I need is for you to promise you won’t kiss him. Promise!”

  She turns away. “Saintly, I know you’re jealous and I understand why, but Dev told me there was never really anything between you. I know it’s hard to hear, Saint, but I love him.”

  “He doesn’t love you.” I hate to say it, but I have to. “He doesn’t love you, Delia, just like he never loved me or any of them. He only loves himself.”

  She glares at me. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then don’t! But humor me, Deals. Humor me.” I look her in the eye. “As a friend.”

  Delia’s expression softens. She brushes a stray curl out of her eyes, suddenly tired. “Fine,” she says. “What do I do?”

  Relief seeps through me. “You have to go. Run. Hide. Just for a few minutes. Just until midnight is over.”

  “What?” a voice behind me says. “And miss ringing in the New Year?”

  Chapter 31

  Jesse

  Saintly spins to face him. “Dev!”

  He steps calmly onto the balcony, two flutes of champagne balanced on the top of the box. He sets it down carefully on the floor and turns his full attention to Saintly, his blue eyes burning behind his black mask. “You made it.” He sounds almost admiring. “I’m surprised. Someday you’ll have to tell me how you pulled that off, but right now you should know that I called Dr. Sterling. He’ll be here any minute now, so unless you want to go back to Westgate…”

  I see Saintly pale at the mention of the place. “He’s bluffing,” I whisper, “He didn’t call him, and even if he did, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of there anymore.”

  She nods ever so slightly. She doesn’t want him to know I’m here. “I’m staying.”

  Dev’s eyebrows go up a notch above the top of his mask, surprised by her calm. He turns to Delia. “It’s okay, the doctor will be here for her soon. He’ll take her back to the hospital where it’s safe.”

  He puts a comforting arm around her shoulder, but Delia sidesteps it, glancing nervously at Saintly. “De
v...”

  “Oh!” Dev forces a sad smile. “Was she talking about it again? Saying you shouldn’t kiss me?”

  Delia lowers her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to push her. She really believes what she’s saying.”

  Dev steals a glance at the clock tower. Two minutes left. “But that’s exactly why we have to do it. If you kiss me, she’ll see that nothing happens, and she’ll have to admit it’s all a delusion.”

  “Don’t do it, Delia.” Saintly’s voice is pleading. “For me. As a friend.”

  “As real friends, we should help her,” Dev says, “by showing her there’s nothing to fear.”

  Delia looks back and forth between the two of them, tugging nervously at her gloves. “I don’t know...”

  “Please.” Dev is trying to keep his voice calm, but I can hear the edge under it. Time is running out.

  Delia’s eyebrows narrow. “Why does this matter so much to you?”

  “Why does it matter?” Dev looks hurt. He takes Delia by the shoulders, putting his body between her and Saintly, pressing Delia’s back against the railing of the balcony. “It matters because I love you.” His voice is gentle. His eyes hold hers. “I need you, Delia, and I don’t want anyone to come between us.”

  Behind her, the clock burns in the night, the minute hand poised just a hair away from midnight.

  “Kiss me,” Dev breathes. “Let’s start this year right. Kiss me, or I swear I’ll die.”

  The way he says it, it could be the lyrics of a pop song, a line in a romantic movie. Only Saintly and I know it’s the truth. Below us, the partiers start the countdown. “Ten…nine…”

  Delia’s body relaxes. She smiles and nods ever so slightly.

  She’s going to kiss him.

  “No!” Saintly grabs Dev’s shoulder and spins him to face her. “Take me instead.”

  “Saintly, no!” I gasp, but her eyes shine with determination. She’s going to do it. She’s going to sacrifice herself to save her friend.

  “Eight… seven…”

  “I gave you a chance,” Dev says quietly. “This could have ended differently. But, as it is…”

  “Six… Five…”

  He smiles. “Goodbye, Mariana Santos.”

  Saintly’s eyes catch mine. There’s some wordless communication in that look. At first, I think she’s only saying goodbye.

  Then I understand what she wants me to do.

  “Four…Three…”

  I step behind Dev.

  “Two…”

  This will either work or it won’t. Over his shoulder, Saintly’s eyes meet mine.

  “One.”

  I step into Dev, my body overlapping his just as the hands of the clock tower meet, just as Saintly’s lips touch his. For a second I’m overwhelmed by the strange sensation of being in someone else’s body. Then everything else is overridden by the kiss. Saintly kisses Dev passionately, deeply, but we both know it’s really me she’s kissing.

  A floor below us, the party erupts into cheering. All over campus, the dorms explode into celebration, and my body explodes, too, every inch on fire with the power of that kiss. I can’t say if this plan will work—if this is our first kiss or our last—but if this is Saintly’s last moment on Earth, I want it to be her best. I want it to be nothing like my last moments, so full of sadness and fear. I pour everything I have into that kiss because I want it to be full of love.

  Chapter 32

  Saintly

  The clock in the clock tower strikes for the last time as I pull away from Dev. He looks down at me and smiles sadly. “I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

  But he’s not.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I say, “But I’m in love with someone else.”

  I see the terrible truth dawn on his handsome face. The truth that I am not going to turn to ash, that I really don’t love him anymore, that, after four centuries, it all ends here. For a second, I feel a horrible pang of regret. I loved him.

  But he was never the guy I thought he was. The man I loved never existed.

  His blue eyes widen in shock behind his mask. His lips part like he might say something. And then, he collapses onto the floor of the balcony, leaving Jesse standing in his place.

  I throw myself into her arms, bury my face in her shoulder, but I can still see through her transparent body and I can’t help watching what’s going on behind her. One second, Dev is lying there, as beautiful as always, his blue eyes staring unseeingly at the stars. The next, he simply disintegrates, his body turning to four-hundred-year-old dust, the way all the girls that trusted him have turned to dust over the years. The way he thought I would. In seconds, only the black mask remains.

  “Oh my God,” Delia breathes. “What the hell is going on?”

  I had honestly forgotten she was here. She’s pressed against the doorway of the balcony looking terrified.

  But there’s no chance to comfort her. A cold gust of winter wind whips across the balcony, scattering the dust out into the night where it flutters down like dark snow. There’s a boom as the first of the New Year’s fireworks explodes above us and another banging, too, much closer at hand.

  Jesse pulls away from me and looks around. “What is that?”

  “The box.”

  Dev’s box is shaking, rocking back and forth. The champagne flutes balanced on the lid smash to the floor, and we stare, open-mouthed, as white light begins leak from the crevices.

  “Open it,” Jesse whispers, but there’s no need because in another second there’s a sound like a great rush of wind and the lid flies open, letting out a beam of light so intense we wince away, shielding our eyes.

  When I look again, the sky is filled with them: the souls of hundreds of girls, pouring out into the night. They’re the girls we saw in the nightmare castle, but they don’t look like corpses anymore. They look as they must have looked in their last moments of life—young and joyful, dressed up to celebrate a happy ending, a new beginning. Transparent and shimmering, they rise into the dark sky like sparks from a fire.

  “Say it!” Jesse shouts above the boom of the fireworks. “Tell them to go into the light!”

  “Oh!” I wake up from my gaping wonder. “Lux vos liberabit! Go into the light!”

  There’s a sizzling noise and she sky above us opens as easily as a velvet curtain parting. Beyond it, warm light glows like a beacon. The souls rise to it, their shimmering fire blending with the fireworks that blossom over the clock tower, red and gold and blue. Below us, people are cheering and whistling and, even though I know they can’t see the ghosts, I feel like the cheers are for them. They are finally free. Finally at rest.

  I wipe my tears on the sleeve of my costume as I watch them go. In minutes, they have all raced into the light.

  All but one. She hovers above the railing of the balcony, her auburn hair blowing in the wind, her Victorian petticoats rustling. I recognize her right away as the girl I followed to the door in my dreams.

  “Charlotte,” Jesse says.

  The girl holds out her hand to Jesse, smiling, and my stomach flips as I realize what she wants.

  She’s leading Jesse into the light.

  Of course she is. She should. Jesse is a ghost, and she deserves to be at rest, just like the others. Above us, the light glows warm and inviting. I love Jesse, I know that now, but would real love deny her that peace? It would be selfish to ask her to stay.

  “You’re free,” I whisper, my throat thick with tears. “This is your chance. You did what you stayed to do. You can go.”

  Jesse looks so pained it makes me cry harder. “I know I can,” she says, “but I don’t want to. I want to stay with you.”

  I shake my head, crying so hard now I can barely speak. “You can’t stay trapped here for my sake. You can’t stay a ghost for me.”

  “And she won’t.” Charlotte’s voice is silvery and thin, as if it’s already coming from somewhere far away. She reaches out her hand and I think this is it, she’s going t
o pull her into the light and I will have to let her go.

  But she doesn’t take Jesse’s hand. Instead, she lays her palm gently over Jesse’s heart. It’s a small gesture, but I sense the power behind it—power that doesn’t just come from Charlotte but through her, from all the midnight girls who have gone into the light, and maybe even from the light itself.

  Jesse shuts her eyes and I can feel something shift. Charlotte’s hand stays transparent, but Jesse…

  I gasp. Jesse is growing brighter and more solid as I watch. The color starts where Charlotte’s hand touches her and spreads all the way through her, from the top of her pale blond hair down her skinny frame to the toes of her battered sneakers until she stands in front of me, her cheeks red with the cold, as solid as I am.

  I gape at her. “You’re…”

  “Alive.” Her smile seems very bright now that I can’t see through her. She has freckles on the bridge of her nose that I couldn’t see properly before, and they’re adorable. I want to kiss every one of them. “I’m alive.”

  “Consider it a gift.” Charlotte smiles.

  “I will.” Jesse’s gray eyes are the same as always. They meet mine and my heart feels like a firework in my chest. “This time, I will.” She takes my hand in hers, warm and solid and real, and when she kisses me I can feel the heat of her lips and the cool tears on her cheeks. This time, it’s only her kissing me, with nothing to come between us and I kiss her back deeply—and, yes, boldly—as the grand finale of the fireworks show explodes in the sky above us. My hands roam over her solid shoulders, the reality of her arms, her hips in her faded jeans.

  When we finally come up for air, Charlotte is gone. The sky above us has healed shut, but I feel like some tiny piece of the light has stayed here with us.

  “Amazing.”

  We both turn, startled, at the sound of her voice. Delia is still sitting by the balcony doors, her curls wild with the wind, her makeup smudged with tears, but a look of awe on her face. I don’t know how much of that she could see, but it must have been enough.