Twelve Shades of Midnight:

by Liliana Hart

  “This is outrageous, Winnie. I don’t need a girlfriend.”

  Winnie held Persimone to Icabod’s cheek and made kissing noises. “Aw, c’mon, Ic. Look how much she likes you.”

  “If I could move, I’d slug you in the gut.”

  Scooping Icabod up, she brought him to the bed, where she’d left a sewing kit she’d purchased at the drugstore earlier today. “Ic. It’s time for me to make amends.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  She held up the needle and thread to his unmoving eyes. “I’m going to sew your head back on, Frankenstein.”

  “Really?” he asked, and she was sure she heard a small tremor in his voice.

  “Really. Please tell me you can’t feel anything because if you can, this is gonna hurt.”

  “Nah. I can only see and hear.”

  As she threaded the needle and sat Icabod on her lap, she tilted his head to the correct position and began.

  The moment the tip hit the side of his neck, he screamed. “Owww!”

  She dropped him instantly. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  “I was just kidding.”

  She rolled her eyes, scooping him back up. “Stop screwin’ around. I’m a crappy seamstress as it is. This isn’t going to be pretty. Don’t make it worse”

  As she drew the needle though the fabric of his neck, he asked, “Tonight was nice, huh, Pooh Bear?”

  Tears stung the backs of her eyelids again. God, she’d never cried this much in her entire life. Emotions were hard. “It was incredible.”

  No one had ever made her feel quite so special. Or maybe it was just that she’d never let anyone make her feel that way.

  “Yeah. I heard. I’m happy for you. Lola and Ben make you happy. You make them happy. You’re all so nice together. Maybe as a family?”

  Her fingers stiffened momentarily. “I don’t think so. Ben certainly wouldn’t want an ex-con for a wife. And let’s not forget Baba Yomamma. She didn’t even want me dating him.”

  “I think you’re wrong, Win. I think he’s as in love with you as he was before this whole mess, and I think Baba Yaga will come around.”

  She wanted that so much. So much more than a swanky apartment and a designer dress. Even if she had to wear outdated clothes from two centuries ago forever—if she never saw her wand again— she’d do it if she could stay here with Ben and Lola.

  “It doesn’t matter, Icabod. Baba Yaga would never let me stay anyway. That she had me here in the first place was crazy enough. Long term? Won’t happen.”

  His response was soft. “You never know, Winnie. Stranger things have been known to happen.”

  Tying a knot around the last stitch, she held Icabod up and surveyed her handiwork. Turning him around, she asked, “How does that feel?”

  “Not too shabby. Thanks, Winnie.”

  Squeezing him, she took him back to the chair and flipped the light off, climbing into bed. “You’re welcome.”

  “Hey, Winnie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I like you.”

  She smiled into the darkness, hunkering down under the covers. “I like you, too, Icky-Sticky.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Halloween dawned, overcast and still too damn warm for Winnie’s tastes. Her stomach rolled as she put the finishing touches on her and Lola’s costumes before heading off to school.

  Lola had opted to be a cowgirl because Travis Martin was going to be her cowboy, but as Winnie put some red lipstick on Lola’s lips, her fingers trembled.

  Today was the day. Today she’d know whether she’d passed the test. BIC would hand in her report and Baba Yaga would make an appearance to pass final judgment.

  Lola patted Winnie’s pink-and-blue afro wig. “Your hair is big.”

  Winnie chuckled. “All disco divas had big hair.” Winnie had decided she didn’t really need a costume. She had a whole rack full of them in the bathroom.

  She’d chosen a figure-hugging, Lycra jumpsuit with flared legs and big platform shoes she found at the Goodwill.

  When Ben saw her costume, he’d offered to be her disco king, complete with slicked-back hair, leisure suit and his shirt unbuttoned to his waistband. They’d giggled like ten-year-olds when they’d tried everything on.

  And when they’d taken everything off…

  They still hadn’t spoken about today or what the outcome would be, but that was partially due to the fact that Winnie avoided it. She’d wanted to enjoy her time with them—not mar it with what-ifs.

  Yet, this morning, when the air horn in her room sounded off, she was already awake. Dread swirling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Are we ready, ladies?”

  “Ready!” Lola sang out, scooting around Winnie in the bathroom and flying down the stairs.

  Ben snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her tight to him. “You are the hottest Dancing Queen like ever.” He kissed her lips, letting his tongue slip between them.

  She sighed against him. When he held her close, everything else melted away. But she planted a firm hand on his chest to thwart further exploration. “I don’t want to be late today. Marjorie’s going to have her hands full with the kids who’ve snuck a Tootsie Roll or two in before breakfast.”

  Cupping her chin, he smiled down at her. “Let’s talk tonight after trick-or-treating.”

  Her heart fluttered outrageously. “About?”

  “C’mon, Winnie!” Lola yelled from the base of the stairs.

  “Women. We’ll talk tonight,” he said, giving her ass a light slap. “So hot you sizzle, Foster,” he teased with a wink before exiting the bathroom and tromping down the steps.

  Gazing into the mirror at her ridiculously big, pink, fluttery false eyelashes and blue glitter eye shadow, she gripped the edges of the sink.

  It was all going to be okay. She’d talk to Baba Yaga. Baba would see she’d stuck to the terms of her parole, and maybe, just maybe, she’d let her stay here with Ben and Lola.

  It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

  She eyed herself in the mirror one last time. “Good talk. Carpe diem, Winnie Foster.”

  That was almost enough to convince herself she could make this happen.

  Except for that damn feeling in her gut. That niggling premonition

  Which she was going to promptly ignore.

  She did an impression of John Travolta’s infamous move in Saturday Night Fever in front of BIC’s desk. “So, whaddya think about my costume?”

  BIC let her glasses fall away from her face. “Isn’t that what you wore last Tuesday?”

  “Hah! Funny, parole officer. But I’m going to let that slide and tell you I like your costume very much.”

  “What costume?”

  “I think that’s called a slam dunk.” Winnie mimicked lobbing a ball through a hoop.

  “Touché, parolee.” She reached inside her desk drawer and pulled out a headband with cat’s ears on it and plunked it on her head.

  “God, the work that must’ve gone into that. At least ten seconds worth, huh, BIC?”

  BIC chuckled. “I hate Halloween. You know what it’s like for us hierarchy. Forever trying to man portals and keep the shit of the Underworld out. Either that or we’re keeping the pranksters who like to scare the humans in line.”

  “I get it. So anything special on tap for today? Anything I should know?” Winnie coaxed.

  BIC put her finger to her chin. “Hmmm. Not that I can think of.”

  “Oh, c’mon, BIC. Stop toying with my emotions,” she teased. “You know what today is.”

  BIC came out from behind her desk and slapped Winnie on the back. “You bet I do. It’s your parole hearing.”

  “Sooo,” Winnie led, her look hopeful as she batted her fluffy eyelashes.

  “So, I’m going to be serious with you. I like you, Winnifred. You’ve been good for Miss Marjorie and good for the children. I’m recommending you be released.”

  W
innie threw her arms around BIC’s neck and planted a big, fat red kiss on it. “Thank you, BIC.”

  BIC untangled Winnie’s arms and set her aside. “Off.”

  Winnie took a step back and grinned. “So I have a favor to ask.”

  “Go.”

  “I’d like to stay here at Miss Marjorie’s.” Her stomach flip-flopped. If BIC gave her a recommendation, she just might be able to sway Baba Yaga.

  BIC ripped a sheet off her clipboard and pointed to the line labeled “recommendations”.

  Hire Winnie Foster as permanent staff at Miss Marjorie’s.

  Tears flooded her overly made-up eyes when she looked down at BIC. “You so like me.”

  “I like that the kids like you.”

  “You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you, Greta.”

  “You earned it, Winnifred. Now, be here tonight at the stroke of midnight, and don’t be late. I’ve had word that Baba Yaga will arrive then with Council. Show up and let me do the talking, okay?”

  Winnie bobbed her head, her afro wig twisting sideways. “I’ll be here.”

  “Good. Now get out of my damn office. The kids’ll be arriving soon, and you have no idea what this day can be like with so much sugar in their gullets.”

  She saluted BIC. “I’m on it,” she said as she headed to the front door of the school, taking a deep breath as the kids began to arrive, their colorful costumes spilling out of cars and traipsing up the sidewalk.

  And all she could think was this was the best day of her life.

  Bar none.

  So piss on that, premonitions.

  Ben had tried to reach Baba Yaga at least a hundred times, but no luck. He kept getting the runaround from some guy named Franz, who said she was in transit. Which could mean she was in the ether or getting a massage in Tokyo.

  But one thing was clear. When Winnie’s parole hearing came up tonight, he wanted to be there to testify.

  That he was nuts about her and he didn’t give a shit what his aunt Yaga said. He was going to ask her to stay here with him and Lola—for good.

  He smiled at that as he drove to the school to pick up Winnie and Lola. He’d never loved anyone quite the way he loved Winnie. Most of all, he loved that she loved Lola, and that Lola loved her. That they’d somehow, in the midst of all of Lola’s sorrow, found a way to bond.

  For a little while, he’d been skeptical. He’d wondered if she was putting on an act with this sudden bout of contrition. But when he looked at her, when he held her, he felt something entirely different.

  If her attempt to save Lola from the rooftop wasn’t enough, the fierce way she’d climbed that trellis without using her magic, the other night, when they’d thrown her the tea party, had cinched the deal for him.

  He’d seen a Winnie who was vulnerable, soft on the inside, despite her quick wit and hard shell.

  And he wanted in on that Winnie.

  Pulling up to the school as the kids in costumes filed out, he parked, ready to tell her as much.

  A ruckus caught his eye at the front of the schoolyard, where Winnie’s afro bobbed in furious fashion. Pushing his way through the crowd of parents that had gathered, he found Winnie toe-to-toe with Randolph Jackson.

  “What’s going on?” he yelled above the crowd of women surrounding Winnie.

  “She set my damn house on fire!”

  His eyes met Winnie’s over Randolph’s head, desperate and afraid. “No I did not!” she yelled at him, pleading with her eyes.

  “Tell them, Bitsie,” he demanded, grabbing Jordie’s mother and shoving her to the front of the crowd.

  Ben was next to him in an instant. “Hands off the lady, Jackson!”

  He gave Ben a shove with a flat palm to his chest. “Tell them, Bitsie. Tell them what you saw.”

  Poor Bitsie, her eyes tired from caring for a newborn and the hyperactive Jordie, gave Winnie a sheepish glance. “Maybe I didn’t see things right, Randolph. Maybe I made a mistake,” she said, her voice rising with hysteria.

  “Tell them!” he bellowed.

  Bitsie licked her lips nervously. “I was out walking little Ashton this afternoon when I saw smoke. I panicked when I saw it was coming from my neighborhood. So I ran because I forgot to take my cell phone with me, and as I was running toward Randolph’s house, I saw Winnie coming out of his backyard.”

  Winnie shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true! I’ve been here all day.”

  “Where were you at lunch?” Randolph demanded.

  Winnie faltered, her eyes flitting from face to face as Marjorie herded the crying children back into the school. “I…took a walk…” she stuttered.

  And then Ben watched her stumble. As though there were no way she could prove them wrong.

  And it killed him.

  But then Winnie did something that made his chest tighten with so much pride, he almost exploded.

  Calm and cool, she looked Randolph Jackson right in the eye. “I did not set your house on fire, Mr. Jackson. I don’t like you. I think you’re a big mouth who’s careless and disinterested in his son. But I don’t want revenge because you accused me of stealing your stupid wand, because I didn’t steal it. I removed it from your son’s possession, much like I would matches or a hand grenade, and gave it to Greta, and I won’t let you say otherwise.”

  Pushing everyone aside, Ben took his place beside Winnie, slipping an arm around her waist, taking her trembling hand in his. “Do any of you really believe Winnie would do this? The woman who’s cared for your children for the past month like they were her own?”

  Faces blanched. There was a twitter of chatter in the crowd, and shame. He felt their shame.

  Daphne Martin hopped up on the brick planter beside the door. “I don’t believe you for one second, Randolph! All of you vultures go home!”

  “She set my damn house on fire, Daphne! Who else is on parole for blowing things up?”

  “I don’t give a damn if she’s on parole for pulling the wings off butterflies, she did not set your house on fire because she was with me. We took a walk together!”

  “The hell she was!” Randolph yelled. “She was bent out of shape because I gave her hell for stealing my wand, and she wanted revenge because I called a meeting of the Council to revoke her parole. But now I’ve got a witness, and I’ll be at her parole hearing tonight with bells on!”

  Daphne growled at him. “It’s not your wand, Randolph. It’s Louisa’s. Remember her? The woman who left you for a cabana boy in San Juan? And Winnie didn’t steal it. She confiscated it because Wyatt did something dangerous with it. Now go home before I turn all of you into the flesh-eaters you are!”

  Hopping off the planter, she grabbed Winnie’s hand and pulled her into the school.

  But Ben wasn’t done. He cornered Randolph, his jaw so tight, he thought his teeth would break. “You stay the hell away from Winnie Foster, got that, asshole? I don’t know what your problem is with her, when all she was doing was looking out for both of our children, but you’d better direct that shit elsewhere.”

  “Fuck you, Yagamawitz. I’ll see you and that whore at Council tonight.”

  That was all it took.

  Just that one word before he saw red and his fist was high in the air, clocking Randolph Jackson with a hard blow.

  Winnie let her wig drop to the floor of the living room as Daphne and Ben hovered around her like mother hens.

  “You shouldn’t have hit him.”

  “At least I didn’t blow him up,” he joked, flexing his fist.

  “Not laughing.”

  “Too soon?” he asked, his expression sheepish.

  “Much,” Winnie said, trailing to the kitchen and pulling out a chair to drop down into.

  Daphne sent Lola and Travis off to the garden to play then gathered some ice for Ben’s hand. “You should’ve seen him. He clocked Randolph so fast, I’d swear he was a champion boxer. Blood everywhere, too.”

  Ben ran a hand over his jaw. “I w
as wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “He called her a whore. If you didn’t slug him, I would have.”

  Winnie let her head fall to her hands. “I don’t understand. How could Bitsie have seen me? She swore she saw me, Daphne.”

  Daphne waved a wrist adorned in diamonds in the air. “Maybe she drinks? I don’t know.”

  “And you lied,” she accused, shaking her finger at her new friend.

  “Yep, and I’d do it again. Randolph is a damn bully, always yelling and carrying on. I’d have left him for Satan if he offered, were I Louisa.”

  “Did she really leave him for a cabana boy?” Winnie asked.

  Daphne pulled out a chair for Ben and pushed him into it. “That’s the word.

  Winnie shook her head again. “And she just left her wand with him? C’mon, Daphne, you know a wand is like a witch’s lipstick.” That had bothered her since she’d found Wyatt with the wand. No witch left their wand unless it was a serious oversight.

  “You have a point,” Daphne agreed. “Now listen, we’ll figure this out. Promise. You let me do some snooping around—”

  “No!” Winnie put a hand on Daphne’s. “Please don’t. I appreciate the support. The lie you told to save me, and telling Mr. Jackson off, but don’t get any more involved. Please.”

  “Wait. Daphne lied?” Ben asked, holding the bag of ice to his hand.

  Winnie’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. She wasn’t really with me when I took a walk on my lunch break. I’ve been feeling uneasy all day, probably because my parole hearing’s tonight, and I just needed a minute to gather my thoughts.”

  “I believe you.” Ben grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips.

  Daphne snapped his shoulder with the towel. “You should. She’d never set someone’s house on fire. Not after all this. She’s hours from being free of her parole, and she’s the obvious suspect in town. What earthly sense does that make?”

  Winnie sagged against the back of the chair. Ben believed her. That was all that mattered.

  “So what the hell is going on? Who did Bitsie see?” Ben asked.