Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  I’m terrified to examine the questions. Afraid that I’ll see myself for the selfish creature I’ve been for thousands of years. I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to be the man she sees. However, the man she sees would let her go because he knows he is no good for her.

  “I,” she swallows hard, and leans in closer to me, “would like to be your girlfriend.”

  I am not that man. I’m a damned man. “Im iam damnari,” slips through my lips before I brush them against hers. My fingers find her cheekbones and follow them back to the beginnings of her jawline before drawing her face closer. I cock my head, deepening the kiss, and she moans with relieved satisfaction, her arms curling around my neck. Our tongues roll over the others, exploring and cataloguing. I groan with pleasure, my body responding with heated need. I have never wanted a woman for myself. As much as I want her though, for now, I’m content to just sit here and kiss her, with all the pure innocence of youth, and fall deeper under her spell.

  Chapter 15

  You became the center of my world…

  Time passes, too slow and yet, too fast. Everything I do is for Charlotte. Every thought I have considers her in some way. Our relationship took a colossal leap forward on an emotional level after that first kiss. On a physical one, well, we haven’t done much more than make-out on the beach by the frat house, or in the backseat of my Jeep, or in her dorm room during the day.

  The mission named Breaux is halfway on track. His depression over Charlotte is obvious to everyone but her, and Alyssa has him talked into some political science courses for next semester. Since Charlotte is always with me, he never sees her, and it’s killing him. Alyssa makes moves to sever their bond; however, her plans to date him fail when he asks Paige out instead.

  “You know why he’s going out with the friend over me, right?” She summoned me to meet behind the student union, in the dead hours of the night, two-thirty a.m. to be exact.

  “I was dead asleep, you know,” I grumble, frustrated to be out.

  “I can provide you with a permanent dirt nap, as the kids say, if you’d prefer.”

  I mumble a few choice words at such a low pitch that even she can’t hear them.

  “Now, do you know?”

  I nod my head. “Because Charlotte prefers to double date with Paige over him.” The dates were awkward, as he stares at my girlfriend the whole time, but they serve their purpose. “What more do you want me to do?” I don’t hesitate in asking because I know an order is coming.

  “Crush him,” slides through her lips in a detached voice.

  Even I’m a bit disturbed by the turn of her emotions of late. Before the staged car accident, Alyssa was a hotheaded bitch, and that was on a good day. I understood that, though. She had a mission to accomplish and her emotions ran with the course it took. She was also a lot of talk with no real bite. I was able to gauge how it was going based off her behaviors. Now, her cool indifference to the trauma she inflicts on others leaves me with no clue as to whether I’m doing enough to keep her from hurting Charlotte again.

  “Why?”

  She rolls her eyes in response. “To make sure he focuses on himself and not on her. I got him to pick up a couple poli-sci classes next semester, but that can change with the next one. You need to make sure that he has no chance with her.”

  “I’m dating the girl,” I snap. “What else do you want me to do? Propose? That will make total sense! I’ll just go from dragging my feet to full steam ahead, with no warning! I’m sure that won’t scare the hesitant girl that she is!”

  Alyssa’s open palm connects with my cheek with such force that my head snaps to the side. The sound echoes through the open air, and the sting catches me by surprise.

  “Don’t back talk me,” she hisses, keeping her volume low enough to be only for my ears. “You used to be a creative man who stopped at nothing to get the mission done. Now, you’re this weak creature, wrapped around the whims of a mortal, and you aren’t even getting any action for your trouble. Step up your game, and show Wesley that he has no chance in hell with her!”

  As the order is delivered, green flames burst above her opened palm, which her outstretched arm has right in front of my chest. I jump back before doubling over in a pain that erupts behind my eyes and turns my stomach. The ground smacks me in the face as I collapse and pass out.

  The early morning bustle wakes me from my leafy bed. I push myself to my feet and ignore the gawking stares of passing students. A dull ache sits behind my eyes as I stumble back to the frat house.

  “Henry!” Charlotte’s shocked voice pulls me up short as I cross the parking lot in front of her dorm. She rushes down the steps towards me, and when I blink my eyes to clear my head, I find her blocking my path. Delicate fingers trace the dirt on my face as she takes in my appearance. “You look like hell.”

  The rough quality to her voice draws my attention from my own problems. Her eyes are missing their normal sparkle. She wears no make-up and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun.

  She looks like hell, too. “Did your mother suffer a setback?” I ask, controlling the panic boiling in the pit of my soul to keep it from seeping into my question.

  She sighs and shakes her head. “No, her recovery is progressing, just slowly.” Her fingers massage her forehead and temples. “I don’t know how to explain it, there’s a pinch behind my eyes. I didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.”

  With finals around the corner, headaches and lack of sleep aren’t abnormal side effects of student life. But, her description of her headache, that pinch behind the eyes, it’s too close to the tension I feel in my own head.

  “What kind of dream?” I’m unable to keep the apprehension from drenching my words.

  The brush of her lips eases the pressure in my head. The breaths of her answer caress my cheek. “Just a strange dream. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  If she had any other boyfriend, they wouldn’t be concerned, but she doesn’t. She has me. I promised myself that I would never use my powers on her, and yet, the glimpse I take is unintentional. The green fire of the ignes iudicii flashes through her mind, revealing the true cause of her ailments.

  Chapter 16

  You caused a crisis of conscious…

  I collapse in bed when I finally make it back into my bedroom at the frat house. I waved off Charlotte’s concern, sending her to Shakespeare by herself. The fire I saw in her thoughts terrifies me. The heels of my palms press into my eyes. Shit! What am I going to do?

  Am I getting too close? These months with her have changed me. I’m not the same bitter exile I was before I earned her love. However, I never considered that I would change her. I’ve been successful in keeping her from the boy, but not out of the line of fire, no pun intended.

  So, idiot, what do I do? My groan rumbles deep in my chest as I weigh my options.

  I stay the course, irrevocably altering the natural path of her life, and possibly her soul. Anyone else, I wouldn’t care, so why do I care now?

  Because, you care, my conscious argues and snickers at me. You’re as weak as Alyssa thinks.

  It’s not weakness to care about someone else. It’s a show of strength to tether your soul to another, to share your hopes and dreams with someone. It’s easy to be lonely and miserable. It’s hard to be with people and be happy.

  Be a man! that voice inside my head screams at me, the one who was happy being indifferent to the world around. Do your job! Complete the mission! She’s beneath you, just a human. In a hundred years, she won’t matter at all, but what you do now, will!

  Be a man! the other voice counters. Do what’s best for her, screw the consequences to yourself! Walk away! Let her have the life she’s supposed to have. A life without you and any other exile involvement!

  “I walk away and I leave her open to exile involvement!” I scream aloud. The house falls quiet after my outburst, and I tense at my stupidity. I grumble and change into my jogging clothes, doing my best not to think of an
ything until I’m a few miles, not only from campus, but also from the surrounding neighborhoods.

  I find myself running down River Road, following the banks of the Mississippi River. I listen to the pounding of my feet against the pavement and focus on the pumping of my arms. It isn’t long before I find myself outside of civilization, but I don’t stop running. The euphemism, “running from your problems,” finally makes sense.

  The sun sets before I stop. I’m not winded, just unwilling to ignore the consequences of my actions anymore. With one hand on my hip and the other rubbing the back of my head, I stare out over the vista of the river. I somehow stumbled upon a stretch of uninhabited land. It’s quiet here, absent of humanity and the indigenous wildlife. The emptiness lulls me into a sense of calm, and my rabid thoughts start up again.

  Where do my loyalties lie? That’s the ultimate question. When I fell, I had no loyalties to anyone, not even the exiles, but they filled that nagging need to belong to something. I never considered myself loyal to them. Our agendas coincided in the past. Now, they don’t. I still want to see the rule of man come to an end; I just don’t want to eradicate or enslave the species anymore.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” says a voice from behind me that I didn’t expect to hear ever again.

  “Methos?” comes out of my mouth full of all the surprise I feel as I spin around to face him.

  He stands a few feet from me, dressed in a suit that should have him drenched in sweat. Instead, he stands perfectly straight, hands in his pants pockets, not a bead on his tan skin. The humid air doesn’t plaster his jet-black, straight hair to his head.

  “Henry,” he acknowledges with a nod, his piercing blue eyes searching deep into mine. “It’s been a long time.”

  “That it has.” I try to take a casual stance, but Methos isn’t a being to be trifled with. We were friends before the fall, a friendship that ended due to that unfortunate circumstance. He is a weapon of influence and intelligence, able to bend the minds of powerful men to guide the world’s population on the predestined path. The road traveled doesn’t matter, the end result does.

  “I don’t have time for chitchat, you understand?” He pauses, but not long enough to give me an opportunity to respond. “Where do your loyalties lie? To the girl or to the mission?”

  “Why does my mission, or the girl, matter to you?”

  He doesn’t answer, just continues to hold an iron grip on my gaze.

  Then lightning strikes. “They suit your needs,” I gasp.

  A slow nod is his only answer.

  “How?”

  A smile crawls onto his face. “Walk with me, Henry.”

  We amble down the bank, heading back to the city, both our arms clasped behind our backs, a silent show of harboring no ill intentions. He doesn’t begin talking again, until we’ve traveled a few miles.

  “You exiles are correct in your assessment of the power in both the girl and the boy. We fear them as well.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admit in a soft voice. “They’re nothing more than children.”

  “Children with dreams and good intentions, and the path to hell…” He trails off and glances at me through the corners of his eye.

  “Is paved with them,” I finish. My gaze drifts over the deceptively gentle ripples of the Mississippi. The surface hides the chaos and turmoil that roils underneath. It matches my mood. Having Methos take notice of Charlotte and Breaux makes me even more anxious over what to do myself, but I can’t give that away. “What exactly is your interest?”

  Again, his eyes swing to mine before sweeping back over the path in front of us. “I can’t answer that, Henry. It’s a risk talking to you at all, you understand.”

  I do. Even if I don’t talk about his appearance, there is no guarantee that the exiles won’t learn of it. One sweep of the mind and the information is out. “Then why approach me at all?”

  He stops walking and turns to gaze out over the water. “I needed to gauge your commitment to the girl, your desire to protect her, no matter the cost.”

  It makes no sense. “Why?”

  He turns to face me. “Because, if you can’t keep them apart, we will have to take matters into our own hands.”

  Chapter 17

  Had I known my actions would make you question my devotion…

  I miss the next day at school, taking my time to make my way back to campus and set up a plan to protect Charlotte. I realize something, out in the emptiness by the river. Nothing isn’t too bad. That’s what awaits me if I commit my loyalties to Charlotte. No afterlife for me, just nothing. I pause and look out over the water one last time. And, nothing isn’t too bad.

  My loyalties shifted, it’s time to formulate a plan. I need to separate Charlotte from her friend, by any means necessary, more for her safety since there are now two supernatural sides eager to kill her. I just need to settle on the method.

  She’s my first call when I get back to the frat house, even before I take a shower. The phone rings and rings, minutes pass before the answering machine picks up. I glance at the clock. It’s too late for her to still be in class, or at the library.

  “Charlotte, it’s Henry. Um, call me when you get this.”

  Disappointment fills me, driven by the overwhelming need to hear her voice. I debate forgoing a shower to head to her dorm. My pungent odor overrules my desire to lay eyes on her the first second I can. After a quick shower, dress, and a jog, I find myself at the front desk of her dorm, calling her room again. There is no answer.

  I pace around the great room, stopping to sit and read discarded magazines from time to time. The words take no residence in my mind; it’s more of a show, a way to keep from drawing too many eyes. It doesn’t work in the end, since I’m there for hours waiting for her.

  Her laugh echoes through the great room, tugging at my heart, and making me nervous. Other than myself, there is only one person who makes her laugh like that. How does their relationship just bounce back? I wonder as I walk over, only to freeze when I see that she is, in fact, not with the boy.

  The male by her side gazes down into her eyes, a huge grin on his face. An arm is wrapped around her with a hand resting on her hip.

  “Charlotte!” sounds loud, even to my own ears.

  Her head snaps around, and she isn’t quick enough to hide the flirty smile she wore for him. “Henry?” she answers, her teeth drawing her bottom lip between them in a nervous fashion. She heads over to me, steps down onto the top step of the two between the lobby and the great room, and kisses me on the cheek, not on the lips. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling.”

  “You have?” I ask because there weren’t any missed messages on my answering machine.

  “You must be Henry,” the boy inserts himself into our conversation, shoving a hand between us in an offer to shake mine.

  What gave it away? I think the retort I want to toss at him. Was it when she called me Henry? “And you are?” I respond, taking his hand in a firm grip.

  His grip is just as strong, and he stares me down. I take notice of the heterochromia in his eyes, one blue and one green. “The name’s Spence.”

  Spence! What kind of name is Spence?

  He slips an arm back around my girlfriend. “Charlotte, we should get that book and get going. Don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

  Going? Waiting? What they hell is going on? And, if you don’t get your arm off my girlfriend, I swear, I’ll fry you where you stand!

  Charlotte sees the confused fury swimming on my face and extricates herself from his embrace. “Sounds good, Spence. I’ll go grab the book. Henry, why don’t you accompany me?”

  She doesn’t wait for my answer, but spins on her heel and heads towards the front desk to sign me in. I hold Spence’s gaze as I follow her up to the room she shares with Alyssa. She doesn’t say anything, not even when we reach her room.

  The silence is suffocating! I can’t take it! “Charlotte,” I say as I grab her
bicep and twirl her around. “I’m sorry–”

  The way she yanks her arm out of my hold cuts me off. “You’re sorry! I haven’t seen or heard from you in almost thirty-six hours, Henry!” She doesn’t yell at me, but her pain laces her words. “Maybe that’s too much to expect, but considering you looked like hell yesterday morning and we haven’t gone more than a handful of hours without at least talking, I don’t think it’s too much!”

  The glassy quality of sorrow fills her eyes, and I pull her into my chest. “My dear,” I whisper and nuzzle my face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “It isn’t too much to ask. Something… Well, something…” What am I going to say? I almost told her the truth! “I just have a lot on my mind and needed to sort some things out.”

  Her arms slip around my waist and she holds on for dear life. “Like what, Henry? Talk to me.”

  I want to. The urge to sit her down, to show and tell her who and what I truly am, is almost too powerful to control. I bite my tongue for fear of spilling my guts. She whispers my name again, pulling far enough away from me to look up into my eyes. Love sits deep in hers, demanding that I tell her, begging me to trust that she will continue to love me afterward. It’s just so hard to believe when she hasn’t come right out and said the words.

  “Charlotte, I lo–”

  The ringing phone cuts me off. It startles her and she jumps out of my arms.

  “Hello?” she says into the receiver.

  “Charlotte, we’re going to be late.” Even I can hear the annoyance in Spence’s tone. “What’s taking so long?”

  “Sorry,” she mumbles and snatches the book off the foot of her bed. “I’m on my way down right now.” She brushes past me without another word until she realizes that I haven’t moved to follow her out the door. “Come on, I have a study group.”

  “With who, my dear?” I question in the hallway. We’ve always studied together in the past.