Fighting Midnight: Ankarrah Chronicles Book Two: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy

by J. D. Dexter

  “You dare desecrate our ancestors with your bodily fluids?” Her deep voice rumbles through my chest.

  I frantically look over. The fire pit is their ancestors’ home?

  “Banymal, I can only apologize. I had no idea this was your ancestors’ home.” Another rumble in my stomach has me clenching my teeth closed.

  She glares at me with her intense red eyes. A rush of warm, sticky air flows across my face as she snorts. A curious honk comes from the back of the group.

  Kuni comes forward. She weaves in and around the legs of the elders standing like soldiers around me. As she reaches my side, she honks again, pushing her face up into Banymal’s.

  A honking conversation, full of snorts, grunts, trumpeting honks, and highlighted with ground shaking of stamping paws goes on around me. It reminds me of Chicago traffic during an accident. Well, minus the cursing.

  “She didn’t know, Mother! She got lavace in her mouth when she fell in!” Kuni yells.

  A heavy hush.

  Snorts, grunts, and more honks. Although this time considerably happier in sound.

  “You truly got lavace in your mouth?” Banymal asks me. The red of her eyes slowly fading away.

  “If that’s what you call your waste, then yes. I got some of it in my mouth.” I shudder once again. Clamping my mouth closed, and holding a hand over it, I swallow back the acid trying to exit.

  Banymal returns to her lofty height. “Come. We will get you to our cleaning area.” She takes off, her broad, short tail swinging side to side with her brisk movements.

  Trying to swallow back more bile, I force myself to think of other things.

  “How did you guys learn English?” I ask Kuni.

  “We know all languages.”

  I turn to look at her. She’s glaring at her mom’s tail.

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, that’s what I just said.” She looks at me, rolling her eyes once again.

  “That’s amazing. Are you born with that ability?”

  “Yes. Although we must continue to use the languages, or we eventually forget them. We do not use all the words from each of the languages. Only the most common.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head.

  “I’m guessing Earthers do not know many languages.”

  I chuckle. “Nope. We’re lucky to learn our native language.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  “It certainly is.” I nod.

  “How do your Keepers manage then?”

  “Our what?”

  “Your Keepers.”

  I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

  “The people who guide you, teach you, keep your history, tell the future.” She’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Funny how some things are universal.

  “We don’t have those. At least, not that I know of.”

  “Pathetic,” she says, snorting.

  “So you guys have people who guide, teach, prophesize, and keep history?”

  She sighs heavily. “Yes. Our Keepers manage all known realms. Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?”

  “Because I’m confused and uncertain I’m understanding correctly.” I shrug my shoulders again.

  “We’re here, Earther Finley,” Banymal interrupts our conversation.

  We’re standing at a curtain of crap-brown vines. So thick you can’t see through them, they wave gently in a breeze I can’t feel.

  “Through there is our cleaning facility. Kuni may accompany you if you so desire.” A disgruntled honk slides through the air.

  “Any special instructions?”

  “Simply follow the path. Once you reach the end of it, you will be completely clean.” Banymal nudges me with her paw.

  I tumble head-first through the vines.

  30

  The world is brown. From top to bottom, brown surrounds me. I feel like I’ve been buried alive in a grave with no coffin to protect me from the bugs and other creepy crawlies.

  Hands out in front, I get my feet back under me. Walking along a path I can’t see, but somehow know is there, I try to keep calm. Breathe in, breathe out.

  Even the air smells brown. I can feel it coating my lungs, rushing over my skin and hair. Sticky fingers of brown searching and combing through my entire body. Planting one foot in front of the other takes a lot more willpower than it should.

  I want to stop and turn around. But also don’t want their weird bacteria thingy to eat me. That’s not an end I want to contemplate.

  Something bumps into the back of my legs. “Hurry up, Finley. Mother and the Council are waiting for you,” Kuni says.

  Kuni’s blue-gray body is the only color I can see. My own body is now covered in brown. She moves me aside, pushing her way to the front.

  Watching her stubby tail swing side to side helps me get over the sensation of being buried alive. I quick-step it to catch up. “Why aren’t you covered in brown?”

  “I was in here yesterday. We don’t come through every day. Most of the time, we only come once in a Shift.”

  “What’s a Shift?”

  Another put-upon sigh. “A universe shift. When the universe makes a full revolution around all known worlds and planets.”

  “Wait.” I hold a hand.

  She grunts, but stops and turns around.

  “You’ve got to do some more explaining. My mind is boggled.”

  She tips her head to the side. “Boggled.”

  “Astonished, overwhelmed.” I circle my hand in the air.

  “Mother and the Council will explain better. Now hurry up. You’re looking like a monster.” She turns back around and waddles off.

  A couple minutes later we’re at what looks like a chocolate fountain. Brown, brown, and more brown bubble and drip from top to bottom. About my height, a spout stands out from the wall, pushing a shiny brown substance out into the space.

  Kuni dips her head, a long silver tongue flicks out and gathers some of the brown. Pulling her tongue back in, she tips her head back and swallows. A look of ecstasy softens her features. Even her eyes, when she opens them again, look languid.

  “I’m guessing I need to do that as well?”

  She just nods. No sass, no attitude, no sighing…nothing.

  “Can I use my hand?” I ask her. “My tongue isn’t that long.”

  Another indolent nod.

  Dipping my hand into the shiny brown stuff, I almost shriek as I feel it moving. Like a sentient glove, it wriggles along my palm, encasing my hand in brown.

  I take a couple of deep breaths, and trying not to think about what I’m ingesting, I tip my head back and let it slide into my mouth. Choking it down, a shimmery blanket of peace and well-being suffuses my body.

  I’ve never done drugs, but this is what I assume being high is like. A floating sensation where nothing bad can hurt you, and only good things are allowed in your space. A tingling warmth fills my stomach, pleasant zings of happiness and pleasure stretch to my limbs.

  “What is this stuff?” I ask lazily.

  “You wouldn’t understand. Just acknowledge that it helps you and accept its help,” Kuni answers, her voice just as lazy.

  For what seems like years, we stand there enjoying the peace and tranquility. The wonderful sluggishness slowly begins to evaporate from my body, like lifting a gravity blanket off your body. The feeling of peace is still there, but more as a memory than active sensation.

  Kuni honks softly at me. Turning my head, I see her motioning me to continue down the path. A couple minutes more and we’re standing before another living vine curtain.

  “As you step through the veritas, you must speak your truth. If you lie, you will be restrained by the vines and then killed.” That said, she pushes through.

  “WAIT! What do you mean, speak my truth?” I yell.

  But she’s already gone.

  The peace and tranquility of moments ago vanishes as if it were never there.

  “My truth. My truth. My
truth.” I pace in a tight line, being mindful to stay on the path.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I say quietly.

  The vines sweep aside.

  Thank the good Lord!

  31

  Stepping through the vines like my feet are on fire, I rush through. Blinding light and vibrant colors sear my retinas. Raising a hand to shield my eyes, a host of honks and grunts rise.

  “Welcome, Earther Finley. You have passed through the veritas, and we welcome you as one of us,” Banymal says near me. A weight is settled on my shoulders and warmth seeps into my shivering body.

  I hadn’t even noticed I was cold.

  I shriek. “Where are my clothes?” I pull the curiously soft blanket of pink leaves around my body, covering my naked parts.

  “The veritas removes all shelters, exposing all truth and showing us our true selves,” a high voice says in a sing-song voice.

  About the size of a miniature horse, the bright orange male Bulcepts dips his head. His horns remind me of a rhinoceros. “Welcome, Earther Finley. I am Chapett, Ancient Council leader.” He makes a small circle with his left paw.

  Tapping my right index finger to my forehead and bowing, I reply, “Thank you, Chapett. Do you happen to have any clothes or coverings? Being naked in a public setting is unnatural for me.”

  “We have something that should be suitable in our…what you would call a church.” He tips his head to indicate a tipi-like structure that looks roughly the size of Madison Square Garden.

  “Thank you.”

  A long line of Bulcepts move towards their church structure. A faint trembling can be felt under foot as so many massive creatures move at the same time. Wafts of delicious-smelling food fill the air, making me realize I’ve not had anything to eat in forever.

  Not to mention emptying my stomach on their sacred fire pit earlier.

  Huge curtains part as we make our way into the structure. The billowing fabric roof and sides reminds me of a tent for an old-school circus. The space is plunged into darkness as the curtains slide shut once the last Bulcepts enters.

  A cuddly soft fabric is draped around me. Like my favorite fuzzy blanket turned into a Onesie, I feel wrapped up in warmth and comfort.

  A melody of tones reaches my ears. Light, barely discernable, begins to brighten the space. Like a dimmer switch, the light gets brighter the higher the melody goes. Altogether, the assembled Bulcepts raise their tones into one perfectly pitched note. A burst of light explodes, making my eyes squeeze shut against the glare.

  The tone is cut off, and the light stays bright.

  A host of miniature horse-size Bulcepts stand before me. Made up of both male and female, they look regal for land sharks with soft bellies and marshmallow legs. One Bulcepts for each color family is represented: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

  “We are the Crescent.” They all speak in unison. “We hold the knowledge of the universe. From time immemorial, we have been here. Until the end of time, we will be here.”

  Uh, people be getting crazy. I’ll keep my faith system right where it’s at, thank you very much.

  “Earther Finley, why have you come to us?” Red Bulcepts asks. His horns draw shapes in the air as his head moves around willy-nilly.

  I blink away the pictures crowding my mind.

  “I have no idea. I was floating on the Psy-Matrix, waiting for a friend to come tell me where a safe exit would be, when I fell down the waterfall that landed me in your po—waste pit.”

  “No one arrives here by accident,” Blue Bulcepts states gruffly. Her shiny head gleams under the bright light I still can’t figure out where it comes from.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “Tell us about yourself. This might help us better understand your situation,” Chapett says.

  I nod. “My name is Finley Tindol. I’m from Earth. Although, I’m actually Ankarrahi. My mother is Anixia—the so-called Midnight Queen. Apparently, I have a prophecy about me killing her and saving the day.”

  A hush falls over the crowd.

  “What is your Ankarrahi name?” Red Bulcepts asks, his voice high like a woman’s.

  “Fyndrexia.”

  A chorus of honks and shrieks almost blast my eardrums. The Bulcepts in the church are freaking the eff out. Stamping their feet, their heads whipping in the air, tails shifting so fast that a small dust devil slides across the earthen floor.

  “Step forward, Fyndrexia,” Chapett commands.

  I gulp, the sound loud in the sudden quiet.

  Taking a few baby steps towards him, I steel myself against backing up as he invades my personal space. His heavy breathing washes my face in lavender-scented air. His pink and red eyes search my own multi-colored ones.

  A series of oddly toned honks. “It is true. She is the ruination we have foreseen,” he says in a hush.

  32

  This is one of those times that everything in my life just falls apart. The first one was when I was raped in college.

  Everything about my life was torn apart in a matter of minutes.

  The second was less than a year ago when Anixia butchered my parents when Hunter and I disobeyed her casual statement to stay in Ankarrah. I’m still dealing with that one. Sure, I’d heard about the prophecy. Yeah, I knew it was most likely about me. But to have it stated with such confidence by the people who made the prophecy?

  Yeah, that’s a kick in the no-no touch square.

  The pandemonium rocking through the giant circus tent-church was about to push me over the edge into Crazy-Ville. Honks, bleats, trumpets of sound that mostly just clashed and crashed against each other turn my head into a blender of sound and exposed auditory nerves.

  Plopping down on the floor, I wait it out. Considering I know that the prophecy about me is at least five hundred years old, and these are the people who made the prophecy, I can only imagine how they’re feeling right now.

  Kuni waddles over to me. Folding her legs under her like a cat, she simply waits with me in silence. She edges closer to me, until her bony shell brushes against my leg.

  Lifting my hand, I slide it over her shell. She goes very still under my touch. Her shell is both rough and glossy, like feeling ripples in fabric. She leans against me a little harder, reminding me of a cat who wants to be petted and rubbed.

  “Don’t worry. They do this every time someone with a prophecy shows up,” she murmurs to me.

  “This happens a lot?”

  She shakes her wide head. “No. Which is why they’re so excited.”

  “When was the last time this happened?”

  “Before you were born.”

  “How old are you, Kuni?”

  “In your years, I would be six thousand, three hundred and thirty-two years old. In Bulcepts time, I’m just getting ready to enter my formative years.” If her paws could have made air quotes, those feet of hers would have been in the air.

  “That’s amazing.”

  Her tail bumps my back. “I guess.”

  “So what do you know about the prophecy?”

  She shakes her head. “You’ll have to wait for Chapett to explain it.”

  “Okay.” I pet her head again. A low purring rumbles through her body.

  The melodious tones sound again from the Ancient Council. The lighting in the church dims and brightens multiple times, over and over. I close my eyes against the nausea crowding my stomach.

  “Fyndrexia, please rise,” Blue Bulcepts calls to me.

  Kuni and I stand again, her compact body tucked against my lower legs.

  “Kuni, you may return to your place,” Bluey says.

  “No.”

  A harsh honk.

  “No, Finley needs someone on her side who can help her understand. I place myself as her Advocate,” Kuni says.

  “Thank you, but I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I whisper down to her.

  Her tail thumps my legs.

&nb
sp; “As you wish,” Red Guy says with a glare.

  “Fyndrexia,”

  “She has told you her name is Finley. She clearly prefers that name to the one given her by Anixia,” Kuni interrupts.

  Kuni got spunk. I pump my fist in the air…mentally.

  Red Guy glares at her again. “Finley, what do you know of your prophecy?”

  “Crescent ruination conceived by Midnight. Darkness destroyed, Ashen Angel birthright,” I say.

  “Yes, but what do you know of it?”

  “Nothing. No one we’ve talked to understands what it means. The only thing they’ve gotten right is that Midnight refers to Anixia.”

  Nods from all the Council members. “Knowledge of Anixia’s destruction came to us over six hundred years ago. Her quest for power, while understandable, has surpassed her abilities to control. She creates young for no purpose other than to reabsorb the power she donates to create them. She butchers babies and other families for their powers. Her adira has become so bloated that it eats at her from within,” Chapett says.

  “When her adira first ignited, she was very powerful. Her mother and father should have been incapable of producing such a powerful young, but the universe has ways of correcting itself. She was a happy youngling, content to simply be a part of society. It wasn’t until her mother was absorbed in front of her that she began to amass powers of her own,” he goes on.

  “What happened to her mother?” I push the sympathy away. That hateful woman took my mother and father from me; she doesn’t deserve my sympathy.

  “A band of Cast Outs happened to see her mother at the Marketplace and followed her home. They defiled her body, then absorbed her adira. Anixia had been wakened from her nap by the noise.”

  Oh, crap. My heart broke for the little girl Anixia had been. To see that happen, to feel powerless to stop them. Now, more than ever, I don’t understand how she could have put me in the same situation.

  “Anixia hid that day. When her father came home, he was unable to care for her. He simply drifted away, his heart torn from him. He told Anixia that she could absorb his adira, then to go make the Cast Outs pay for their crimes.”

  “Didn’t the Clan Leader do anything?” I ask.