Forever Midnight

by Kate Hill

  “No, I didn’t. Ironic then, I suppose.”

  “Not really. I grew up with a human father—it seemed natural to take a human husband, and I knew what I might be getting into by taking that route.”

  “We all do. We all know it could come down to sharing, if we take a human partner. But for them—it’s so much more difficult.”

  Nadia was silent again for a moment, then said gently, “Is there a problem with Piper?”

  Trey shook his head reflexively. “No. I don’t think so. There doesn’t seem to be.” He picked up a porcelain dragon from a shelf and dusted it with his shirt sleeve, holding the phone between chin and shoulder. “Thank you for the offer. I don’t think she’d really considered the possibility of having a naturally conceived child.”

  “Does she seem interested in the idea?”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “Good. I was hoping she might.” She laughed a little. “Not that I’m crazy about the idea of Brice sleeping with someone else, but it seemed fair.”

  Trey smiled. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” His smile faded. “It’s broken marriages to pieces. I had a friend who lost her husband over this.”

  “I know. My first husband left me when I told him I wanted a baby.”

  “I didn’t know that.” It hadn’t been in her paperwork, but then it hadn’t been relevant to the current reproduction request.

  “Yeah. It was tough. I don’t want that to happen again. I think—” She stopped, laughed again. The sound was strained this time. “For some reason it seems like the ritual might make it safer. Less likely to go awry.”

  “I know. It feels that way to me, too.” He gave a decisive nod. “Well. We’ll see how it goes. All we can do is the best we can do.”

  “That’s right.” Her voice trembled a little, though, and he pressed his lips together, sympathizing perhaps a little too strongly with her distress. He had the same worries, himself.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then. We can talk more, with all of us together.”

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll see you tonight.”

  * * * * *

  Piper set out silverware, checking each piece to be sure it wasn’t water-spotted or tarnished. She’d never given much thought to her silverware. She and Trey didn’t have company very often, much less company like this. Carefully, she arranged cloth napkins and set the plates in the exact center of the placemats.

  Trey didn’t seem nearly as concerned. He had prepared a casual dinner of pasta and salad, with store-bought tiramisu for dessert. He’d picked up a wine which she recognized as a nice one, but not terribly expensive.

  “I spoke to Nadia today,” he told her as she came back into the kitchen.

  She opened a cabinet and took out a set of salad plates. “To invite them over. I know.”

  “No, I called Brice to invite them over. I talked to Nadia later.”

  Piper eyed him, surprised at the stab of jealousy that passed through her chest. “Oh. What about?”

  “I mentioned the ritual to her.”

  “Oh.” Piper took the plates in to the kitchen and carefully arranged them on the table. “What did she say?”

  “She’s very much in favor. I thought she might be. We’ve both seen relationships fall apart over this exact situation. The ritual is a good way to get around that.”

  Piper adjusted a salad plate, trying to make sure it was perfectly positioned. “Why would the ritual make any difference?”

  “Because it sanctifies the act. Places it within certain boundaries that make it acceptable. There’s less awkwardness, fewer doubts, fewer questions.”

  “Like, ‘Does he really feel obligated to do this, or does he just want to fuck a pretty little blonde?’” The words came out much more sharply than Piper had intended.

  Trey looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprised. “I am obligated to do this,” he said, his voice quiet.

  “Do you really think the ritual would help?” Piper asked. She had her doubts. A few words spoken over their bed wouldn’t change the fact they were sharing themselves with other people.

  “Yes, I do.” He said it with such sincerity Piper couldn’t help but believe him.

  “It would mean something to you, to do it that way?”

  “Yes, it would.” His voice and expression remained sober. “It would mean a great deal to me, in fact, to go back to the traditional ways. I think we’ve gotten too far away from many of them.”

  Quietly, Piper sat down in a chair at the table, letting out a slow breath. “I’d venture a guess, that one of the traditional ways involved not marrying humans at all.”

  Trey nodded. “You’d be right.”

  “So…not one of the traditional ways you’re in favor of?”

  “I just don’t think it’s realistic. You can’t put limits on love. It happens when it happens, and with whom. But when it comes to dealing with the ramifications of that…yes, I think the traditional ways have a lot to offer.”

  Piper studied his face. He was being as honest as she’d ever seen him; she could tell from his expression, from the heavy sincerity in his eyes.

  “Well, then—” she started, but just then the doorbell rang, cutting her words off. She smiled a little, frustrated, then went to answer the door.

  Brice and Nadia stood outside on the doorstep. Nadia held a wicker basket full of brightly colored packages of gourmet cookies. She smiled brightly at Piper, her green eyes shining.

  “Hi!” she said. “I brought dessert.”

  Piper normally found that kind of perkiness disconcerting at best, annoying at worst. But there was something about Nadia that she found alluring. Maybe because her attitude didn’t seem affected. She seemed very real. Which was ironic, considering she was a shapeshifter.

  She took the basket from Nadia with a smile. “It looks wonderful. Come on in.” She gave Brice a smile, then looked away as he returned it, suddenly uncomfortable. Shy, even. She hadn’t felt genuinely shy in years. But Brice looked at her with such open friendliness that it made her uncomfortable. It wouldn’t have if the circumstances were different. He seemed like a genuinely nice man.

  He moved into the kitchen, his gait almost puppylike in its enthusiasm. “I smell pasta,” he said.

  Trey looked up. “Yeah. I made pasta. Nothing fancy.”

  “Good.” Brice rubbed his hands together. “I was really afraid there would be four forks and two different bowls and five courses or something. That stuff really makes me nervous.”

  Piper smiled. “Me, too, but I was headed that way.”

  “Thank God I was here to bring you back to earth.” Trey smiled at her warmly.

  Brice looked over the immaculately set table. “It’s nice. It really is.” He hesitantly touched Piper’s arm.

  “Thank you.” He seemed like a decent guy. Genuine. She liked that. She allowed herself to smile at him without worrying about connotations or unintended signals, and was rewarded by a genuine twinkle in his sapphire eyes. “Well, then,” Piper said, “Let’s sit down and eat.”

  * * * * *

  After dinner, Trey shifted the proceedings to the living room, providing everyone with tiramisu, Nadia’s cookies, and coffee. Piper, deciding to go with the informal setup rather than try to fight it, sat on the floor next to the coffee table, leaning against the couch, where Trey had sat down.

  The dinner had gone well. If nothing else, the four of them seemed to be conversationally compatible. They’d found plenty to talk about. Brice was an appealing man, prone to bursting out into unabashed, genuine laughter. Nadia was equally genuine, as far as Piper could tell. She included Piper in the conversation as often as she did Trey, for which Piper was grateful.

  “This is lovely tiramisu,” Nadia commented. “Did you make it, Piper?”

  “Yes, she did,” said Trey.

  Piper slapped his knee playfully. “I didn’t. Trey picked it up at the store.”

  Nadia smiled. “That’s what I would have done.�
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  “I can’t imagine trying to make tiramisu. Chocolate chip cookies are about my limit.”

  “I have trouble with chocolate chip cookies, myself,” Nadia admitted. “I can’t seem to actually get the dough into the oven. I’m too busy eating it out of the bowl.”

  Piper laughed. She liked this woman—she couldn’t help it. And she liked Brice, and when it came down to it she couldn’t think of any reason why she shouldn’t accept the offer they had so generously put forth for her and Trey. She glanced at Brice, who was smiling at his wife, and their eyes met briefly. Quickly, Piper looked away.

  “I’d like to try something,” she said suddenly.

  Trey looked at her, an eyebrow quirked, obviously curious as to what had made her speak out so abruptly. “What’s that?”

  Piper cleared her throat, self-conscious now that she’d made herself the center of attention. “Um…” She looked at Trey, who smiled a little and nodded, encouraging her. “I’ve been thinking. About the offer. About having a baby.”

  The atmosphere in the room changed abruptly. Tension, Piper thought, and she certainly hadn’t intended to cause that. She looked uncomfortably at her hands.

  “What did you decide?” Trey asked gently.

  She looked up at him, grateful for his soft tone. “I want to have a baby.”

  “You don’t mind that it would be mine?” There was an edge of humor in Brice’s voice, and Piper was grateful for that, as well. She smiled at him.

  “Actually, I think it would be nice that it was yours.” She looked quickly at Nadia, afraid of her reaction, but the other woman, though she had lifted an eyebrow, was also smiling.

  “I was hoping you’d feel that way,” Nadia said. “It really seemed like the most fair thing to do.”

  Piper nodded. “It actually makes me feel better, too, that there’s a ritual. It makes it seem less… Well, less like I’m alone. Does that make sense?” She felt her face going hot.

  “It does,” said Brice. “People have done this before, and have found it powerful, and have given it a sense of grace, with a ritual.”

  His words surprised Piper. “A sense of grace. Yes, that expresses it very well, I think.” She smiled gently at him, grateful she wasn’t alone in her attempts to work through the situation.

  “You said you wanted to do something,” Trey said. “What is it?”

  Piper gathered herself. In spite of the rapport the four of them seemed to have developed, and in spite of the openness that was coming into play, she was nervous about speaking out.

  “I want—” She broke off. “Just promise you won’t say it’s silly.”

  “Of course not,” said Trey. “If it helps you feel better, then it’s important, and I want to hear it.”

  “I just…” She took a deep breath. “I want you and Nadia and Brice to all go into another room, and when you come out, I want you to all be Brice. I want to know I can tell. I need to be sure I can know it’s you, Trey.”

  Trey smiled a little. “I understand that. But we’ve tested this before.”

  She nodded. He was right, of course. He had appeared to her more than once as a stranger, without warning, and she had always been certain it was him, without being told. She wasn’t sure how she did it—it was a feeling, nebulous and nothing she could explain. But this was different, and in this situation she felt an overwhelming need to know for certain she would be able to know who she was with, in the intimate situation they would be entering into.

  “I know, and it might seem trivial, but I need to be sure.”

  Brice was studying her, his expression serious. “Yes. I think that might be something I would need to know, too.” He looked at his wife, who grinned at him.

  “You need to know you can tell it’s Trey?” Her smile was teasing, but the look in her eyes told Piper she wasn’t mocking him. She understood.

  “No.” He touched her face. “I need to know it’s you.” His soft quirk of a smile touched Piper; it told her that he knew she understood.

  It occurred to her that she didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if anything she did broke this couple apart. They seemed so well-suited, so perfect for each other. She wondered if she and Trey gave that impression.

  “That’s an easy enough request,” Trey said. He pushed to his feet and looked at the other two, obviously ready to get started.

  Nadia looked at Brice and shrugged. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”

  Trey led the way into the bedroom. Piper watched them depart, wondering how long they would be. She still had some tiramisu left; she busied herself finishing it, taking miniscule bites, sipping her coffee. Her hands were shaking. She wondered why.

  As it turned out, it didn’t take very long. She was just scraping the last of the tiramisu from her plate when Brice emerged from the bedroom. Behind him was Brice, and then Brice again.

  Carefully, Piper set her coffee cup down on its saucer. She’d seen Trey shift many times, but this was strange, unlike anything she’d seen before. Three identical men, identical faces, identical walks, emerging from the bedroom. They had even changed clothes, each wearing generic jeans and plain black T-shirts undoubtedly swiped from Trey’s closet.

  Piper rose slowly to her feet, wiping suddenly clammy hands on her pants. She was unaccountably nervous. She felt like there would be consequences if she failed. The three men regarded her with different expressions—contemplative, wondering, curious—but nothing that would give away individual identity.

  They were exactly alike in every detail. The dark, combed-back hair, the sapphire eyes, the prominent cheekbones. The shape of the mouth, the chin that didn’t quite balance the rest of the face. The lean, slim body. Everything.

  Piper stepped closer, drawing in a careful breath, trying to catch their scent. It seemed worth a try, though she wasn’t sure she could tell them apart that way.

  The Brice standing to her left smiled a small, quirking smile. The one in the middle gave him a chastising look, and the one to her right just stood regarding her quietly. Absolutely identical. It was mind-boggling, really. Every pore, every small variation in skin pigmentation. The small tracery of blue veins on the temples. Everything identical.

  She looked more closely, studying each face. Identical sapphire eyes tracked her small movements. Even the small, dark blue blotch in the iris had been duplicated. Absolute artistry. Or was it instinct? It didn’t matter—theory wouldn’t help her figure out which one of these men was Trey.

  All she could do was guess, at this point, then work through process of elimination.

  She decided to start in the middle. Taking a step toward that Brice—identical to the other two—she lifted a hand and touched his face. His skin was warm and soft, a slight scruff of stubble rasping against her fingers. It told her nothing.

  She looked into her eyes. His expression was neutral. Piper leaned in. Brice—or Trey, or Nadia—didn’t move.

  It was like an odd game of chicken, and neither of them gave way. Piper moved closer, slowly, studying his face, but there was no hint, no hesitation. She kissed him.

  His mouth was soft, willing, and tasted of coffee. Piper explored it hesitantly, then more firmly. His tongue touched hers, gentle. She drew back.

  Frowning a little, she studied his face again. His lips quirked a little, into a smile—almost a smirk. She smiled back at him and shook her head in mock disgust, then turned to his twin.

  “Do I get a kiss, too?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, and hooked an arm behind his neck, bringing him down to kiss him thoroughly.

  She didn’t even care if it was Trey or not anymore. It was a game suddenly, nothing serious, nothing life or death. She just kissed this man who may or may not be Brice, who may or may not be Trey, and enjoyed the hell out of it.

  He tasted a bit more of tiramisu than Brice number one had, the coffee flavor still strong. He kissed her less hesitantly, his tongue pressing in almost before she opened to him.

/>   She drew the kiss into herself, savoring the sensations, the flavor, the way his mouth fit against hers. Then let him go, and moved to the third.

  He was less aggressive, seemingly less ready, but kissed her softly, sweetly. She drew back with a soft smile for his tenderness, then looked at them all, one at a time.

  One Brice looked at another, lips slightly pursed in amusement, then looked back at Piper.

  “Verdict?” said Brice number three.

  Piper considered. She gave serious thought to kissing all of them again, just for the hell of it. In the end, though, she just pointed at Brice number one.

  “You’re Trey.”

  He stepped a bit away from the others.

  “Furthermore,” Piper went on, “You’re Nadia.” She pointed to the Brice who had kissed her most aggressively. “And that means you’re Brice.”

  She didn’t need confirmation—she was certain. At least she told herself that, but there was a small tremor of doubt in the few seconds before the three Brices finally looked at each other, then one shifted and melted and became Trey, while the other became Nadia.

  Piper had been right. She smiled, trying to hide the sudden relief. She had been certain—but in a way she hadn’t.

  Unless—

  “You’re not shifting on me, the two of you? Pretending to be each other?”

  Trey laughed. “Don’t be so paranoid.” He moved to her and embraced her. “You’ve always had a talent for picking me out. Remember?”

  “I know.” She rested her head against his chest. “But…stressful circumstances, you know?”

  “I’m sorry if it’s stressful,” said Nadia. She seemed a little uncomfortable.

  Piper turned around to face her. “And you. What was with the major tongue-kissing?”

  Somewhat to Piper’s chagrin, Nadia’s face went bright pink. Brice put an arm around her shoulders, grinning.

  “I thought it was hot.”

  Piper laughed. Trey laughed. Nadia snorted and shook her head.