A Door to Midnight

by Renee George

  When Emily crossed the door into her apartment, her list of tasks included packing all her clothes, calling her father, and then returning to Marcus as soon as she possibly could. They’d made love every day since the evening he’d told her he loved her, and she never wanted to spend a night apart from him again. He’d also told her more about his world, the recent civil war where the rebels had put the rightful heir on the throne, and how it had been the queen who’d kept him away from her for so long. She still couldn’t believe how many of these other beings lived side by side with humans completely unaware.

  She plugged the charger cable into her phone then grabbed a box of trash bags from her kitchen drawer. She didn’t have enough suitcases for all of her clothes and other important items, but she was okay with stuffing them into bags and dragging them back to Marcus’s mansion. As she looked around at the soft blue walls of her one-bedroom apartment, she no longer thought of it as home.

  * * * *

  Marcus opened every door in the mansion. He wanted Emily to have her own areas she could decorate. He would let her redecorate the whole house in rainbows and unicorns if it made her happy. She’d wound her way into his heart, binding him to her for eternity. He hadn’t been saying pretty words of love when he’d told her he couldn’t live without her. It had been the last part of his curse. Love withheld from one or the other of his alters would cause the one without to deteriorate. It had been Ky’s fate for a thousand years. But for his true form to fall in love and have that love denied, the curse would kill him completely—not just one-half of his nature.

  It mattered less to him now than it had all those years ago. If Emily didn’t return, he would gladly cease to exist.

  * * * *

  There was a knock at Emily’s apartment door, and the sound, reminding her of Marcus, made her heart race. She’d talked to her father earlier in the afternoon. He seemed so positive about the future, and he said he had some really good news he wanted to share with her. He’d asked if he could bring a friend to meet her. She’d really wanted to talk to her father alone. Let him know she would be staying with Marcus, but her dad had been so excited. She’d liked hearing him that way, so she’d agreed.

  When she opened the door, her father, a tall, thin man with dark hair, stood in the hall. His blue eyes were clear, not red with drink, and his skin was a healthy color. Behind him was another man, bald and broad. He reminded her of a circus strong man, and the thought made her smile.

  “Hey, Em. This is my friend Paul,” her father said.

  “Hello,” Emily said. She moved back so they both could come inside. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “I’m working the program, Emily,” he said. He held up a small coin. “Two months now. Sober. I know I have a lot to make up for…”

  “That’s great, Dad.” She gave him a brief hug. “I’m proud of you.” She glanced at his friend and didn’t like the way the man looked at her. His friendly smile had turned to a scowl.

  “Paul is my sponsor. He’s here to help me make amends.” Her dad turned to the bald man. The guy nodded, but when her father turned back to Emily, she saw a flash of a metal object right before her father dropped to the floor.

  She screamed, stumbling back as the man stalked toward her with a pistol in his hand.

  “Sorry, John,” the man said to her unconscious father. “You’re girl is my best bet to get Tsavaras to listen.”

  “No,” she said. She yanked her arm away from him when he tried to reach out to take her hand. Her dad moaned.

  “You can come with me quietly, or I can kill your father and take you anyway.”

  This time, she didn’t try to stop him when he grabbed her. But when he pulled out a syringe she struggled again.

  He wrapped his arm around her to hold her still. “You can’t be awake for this part.” He jabbed the needle into her upper arm. The pinch of its lumen entering her flesh was the last thing she felt before darkness consumed her.

  * * * *

  Twenty-six hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds had passed since Emily had left. Marcus Tsavaras sunk into his chair. I am such a fool. He’d really believed she’d return, believed she’d loved him as much as he loved her. He banged his fist down on his desk. The nail of his right thumb broke off and fell to the surface. He stared at his hands and noticed his all his nails had turned gray.

  “And so,” he said with a sigh. “My father’s curse has come to fruition.”

  * * * *

  The room was small and windowless. The straps across Emily’s chest and legs held her tight to the lumpy mattress. She screamed with frustration. She was being used in some ploy to manipulate Marcus, and once again, it seemed as if her dad was the reason behind bad shit happening in her life.

  Her kidnapper flipped a switch by the door, and an overhead light flickered on. The walls and ceiling were gray concrete—cold and unfriendly. God. Where had Paul taken her? It smelled earthy, and she realized she was underground

  “I need Tsavaras to open a door for me.” Paul’s vicious smile exposed his teeth, which looked more suited to a shark. Curved, pointed, and sharp. “I have business with the queen.”

  “Caledon,” Emily murmured.

  “So you know of our world,” the man said. His voice was cruel as he leaned forward, his breath rancid and his teeth bloody around the edges. “If Tsavaras told you about our kind, he must really care for you, girl. You will make the perfect key to open any door I wish.”

  Emily yanked and jerked her body, kicking and screaming at her restraints. “No!”

  He knew about Marcus. About his abilities. Which meant, he was other. She wouldn’t be the bait for his trap. She’d rather die than put Marcus in harm’s way. She tried to twist her upper body, and when she was able to move a little under the chest strap, she stopped struggling. She didn’t want to give her captor an excuse to retighten her restraints. “What are you?” she asked.

  Paul’s awful smile widened, making her shudder. “I am a Child of Caledon, and I want my revenge.”

  When he finally left her alone, she stared at the rough ceiling. “Oh, Marcus.” How she wished she was the master of doors. She’d open one that would lead him right to her. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she was sure it had been more than a day. Her mouth and throat were dry, a sign she needed water.

  She squirmed beneath her chest strap, struggling to stretch it enough to turn a little to the left then to the right. Her shoulders and collarbone rubbed against the canvas binds, but she kept going. She loved Marcus, and she refused to be the reason for his betrayal to his queen.

  * * * *

  Marcus’s phone rang. It wasn’t Emily. He ignored it. It rang again and again. Each time he checked. Each time it wasn’t Emily. Nothing mattered without her. He would let his business rot along with his body. It had been two days since she’d left him, and one day and twenty-three hours longer than he wanted to exist. He’d never experienced this kind of loss. His feelings for his past lovers had been a fleeting infatuation compared to the depth of his love for Emily.

  He didn’t regret. With her, he’d experienced an unrivaled happiness. But when the phone rang for the twelfth time and it was finally Emily’s number, he snatched it up immediately.

  “Hello,” he said into the receiver.

  His heart stopped when a male voice said, “Hello, Chimera.”

  “Where’s Emily?”

  “She’s alive. If you want her to stay that way, I suggest you do exactly as I ask.”

  “And who are you?”

  “A patriot. A true child of our world.”

  Marcus swallowed his fury and kept his voice steady and calm. “You forget who I am.” He would find Emily, even if it meant opening every door in this world and the next. After, he would track this bastard down and remind him why most quaked in the presence of Othrus’ son.

  “Your lover has been without water for two days, and I guarantee she’ll die of thirst before you can f
ind her.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Open the door to the royal quarters in Caledon for me and walk away.”

  “Is that all?” He laughed bitterly. “When the queen and her consorts kill you, how will I find Ms. Henley?”

  Marcus’s question made the man hesitate. “That bitch won’t know what hit her.”

  “Let’s suppose she does…know what hits her that is. How can I be assured that Ms. Henley’s location will be divulged in time to save her?”

  The man made a frustrated noise. “Open the door for me. When I step in, I’ll tell you her location.”

  Marcus gripped his desk, the solid wood splintering in his beastly grasp. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Some place public. Lots and lots of people.”

  So he couldn’t show up in his true form. His stronger form. The guy was clever for a dead man. “Where?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. McDonald’s on Stadium Drive.”

  Marcus’s pulse quickened. Emily was somewhere in Columbia, or at least in the area if the man was still with her. “I need proof she’s still alive.”

  “Tough.”

  “No proof, no door.’

  “Fine.”

  Marcus heard the man’s footfalls, a clanging sound as if he were walking on metal. It lasted for at least thirty seconds. The slight echo from the rattle of keys and the creak of a metal hinge told him the area might be subterranean, underground. Maybe one of the many bunkers in the area that had been built in the 1960s.

  “Wake up, girl. Loverboy wants to speak to you,” the kidnapper said.

  Marcus heard a fierce cry magnified by the walls—stone or concrete he noted—the man shouted something unintelligible.

  “Emily,” Marcus yelled. Another scream echoed and the phone went dead. “Emily?” His blood turned cold as fear and rage overwhelmed his senses. “I’ll find you,” he promised. “I’ll find you.”

  * * * *

  “What the fuck?” Paul shouted when Emily jumped on his back with the loose chest strap and wrapped it around his neck. He’d walked in distracted, holding a cell phone to his ear, and she used his lack of caution to her advantage.

  It hadn’t taken her long to get out of the straps. Her size had given her an advantage in maneuvering out of the binds that held her down. They’d been buckled around the bed, so it had been easy to detach them. She would have preferred something more substantial to defend herself with, but the metal-framed bed was bolted to the floor.

  From her position behind the door, she’d taken her captor by surprise. She roared a battle cry as she tugged the strap tightly against his throat. Startled, he’d dropped the phone. He reached back, his fingers turning to talons as he clawed at arms. She cried out in pain but didn’t let go.

  He threw his back against the wall, smashing her body against the hard concrete. Still she held on. The pain vibrated in her body, but it wasn’t so much an agony as a dull ache. She kept her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, yanking and tugging on the strap, ignoring the strangled noises the monster emitted.

  “Die,” she yelled. “Just fucking die.”

  He slid to the ground, and she saw the plastic case of her phone shattered nearby. She yanked the strap back, reached out for the plastic shard and shoved the point into the man’s neck. A dark red, almost black, blood began spurting from the wound.

  He stopped clawing at her arms. “You’ve killed us both.” And with one last effort, he kicked the metal cell door closed. She heard the keys drop to the floor on the other side.

  “No!” She waited until her assailant stopped struggling, stopped breathing, and his heart stopped beating. She couldn’t believe she’d been strong enough to take the monster down. Her arms were shredded—blood, muscle, and tendons exposed. The pain had become intense, but she still had mobility. She let go of the dead guy and ran to the door. He’d locked them in.

  “No,” she whimpered. Damn it. She’d managed to get herself in a worse predicament. Unless Paul had an accomplice, no one knew where she was located.

  * * * *

  It had been hours since she’d killed Paul, but it felt like days for Emily. Escape had been impossible and sitting in the cell with a corpse messed with her head. She was severely dehydrated and losing blood. It wouldn’t be long now. She was weak. So weak.

  Emily? She heard the voice in her head as plainly as if it had been spoken out loud. Was she hearing things?

  Emily.

  “God?” she whispered.

  The voice laughed. No. Not God.

  She was losing her mind.

  My name is Trace Calder. I am an acquaintance of Marcus Tsavaras.

  “Is he okay?” her voice sounded hollow in the concrete room.

  He’s worried about you. How are you?

  “I don’t know. The man who kidnapped me is dead.” She’d wrapped her arms with sheets from the bed to the stop the bleeding. Maybe the voice was a hallucination from blood loss.

  You’re not hallucinating. She could hear the gentle smile in the voice. Can you tell me where you’re at?

  “I don’t know,” she said. And because he asked, realized he didn’t know where she was either. Marcus didn’t know where she was being held. “Oh God.”

  Really. You can call me Trace.

  She huffed out a choked laugh.

  We’ll find you, Emily. Our people are scouring the old vaults and bunkers below the city. And Marcus says to hold tight. He’s going to find you.

  “He’s with you?”

  Yes.

  “Tell him…” She felt weaker now, all her energy drained. She wanted to fight. She wanted to stay and be with Marcus. But she didn’t know how much longer she would last. “Tell him I love him.”

  Close your eyes, Emily.

  She did.

  Open your eyes now and tell him yourself.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Marcus standing in front of her. His fur was pale, a gray patch had replaced the pale blond patch on the right side of his right face, and his golden eyes had turned milky amber. She tried to reach out to him, but couldn’t make her arms move.

  Marcus.

  You are seeing him with my eyes. I have explained to him that I’ve made contact with you. He knows it will be you speaking.

  Standing to the right of Marcus was a red haired woman with a freckled face and pale green eyes. To his left was a young man, tall with broad shoulders and messy hair.

  “Marcus,” her voice sounded low and strange.

  “Is it really you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she sobbed. “It’s me.”

  “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  He held out his withering hands. “I’m fine. You’re all that matters.”

  “I’m dying, Marcus.” She laughed, a barking cruel sound.

  “Don’t say that, Emily.” Both faces looked stricken. “Don’t give up on me.”

  “I never gave up on you. This isn’t your fault.” The eyes she saw through pivoted to an open door. The room on the other side kept changing, and she realized Marcus was using his powers to open door after door.

  The eyes pivoted back to Marcus. He stared intently at the door, not bothering to look at the body she inhabited. “I’ve found you.”

  “What?” She looked again at the open door. On the other side lay a gruesome scene. The dead man surrounded by a pool of oily blood, and a woman she barely recognized as herself was propped up against the wall, arms bleeding through the rags, and unconscious.

  She watched as Marcus ran inside, sweeping her up into his arms. “My brave Emily. My strong and courageous girl.”

  She blinked, and she was in his arms, looking up into both his faces, one to the other, and loving him with all her heart. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

  “You’re right on time,” he told her, dipping one head and then the other to kiss her tears from her cheek
s. “Right on time.”

  Epilogue

  Emily Katherine Tsavaras signed her new name on the credit card slip as she bought her father a souvenir from Edinburgh. She’d realized how much she’d loved Marcus the day he’d taken her to the hills that rested above the city, and now they were doing a modern tour.

  “You know we could have had a bill sent to us,” he said. His chocolate brown curls framed his beautiful human face. She didn’t even care when all the women stopped to stare at him. He only had eyes for her.

  Emily smiled. “I like signing my new name.”

  He laughed. Her devotion to him had fixed his curse, and now his alter was only one form, both Ky and Zan melding into one person as they had always meant to be. He was only Marcus now, and she loved him in both his beautiful and his beastly forms.

  “I like you signing your new name too.” He pulled her into a sweeping kiss. “Are you happy?”

  “So happy.”

  Her father had been sober now for six months. He didn’t understand what had happened, why Paul had attacked her, but he’d been present in her life, and he’d even started dating again. He was building a life he could be proud of—a life that would honor her mother.

  When they were back at the private house on the beach in Roatan, another part of their honeymoon, just a door away, Marcus pulled her into his embrace. Emily smiled, closed her eyes and concentrated as bone and flesh moved and changed her body. When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the two heads of her husband with two heads of her own.

  As a reward to Marcus, and for her bravery, the royals had changed her into a chimera using Marcus’s DNA and something she’d heard one man, a dragon shifter, call “Benie Ju-ju.” Apparently, the stem cells in the concoction had regrown the man’s tongue.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Marcus said. His eyes shimmered with emotion. “You have saved me.”

  “You saved me.” She clasped his hands and felt as their flesh melted until their hands became one. She loved feeling and hearing his thoughts and emotions. His pleasure. “And you’re stuck with me,” she joked.

  “I’m a lucky, lucky man.”

  “Damn right,” Emily smirked.