Kissing Midnight (8 page)

“Honestly,” Delia gives me a sly smile, “I would trade places with you if I could. I’d love an excuse to hang with Dev, but,” she sighs dramatically, “duty calls.” She salutes, clicking her heels together like a soldier and I notice what she has on her feet.

“Hey!” I say. “You’re wearing ruby slippers!”

“
Wizard of Oz
box, back left corner. Don’t worry, they had like six pairs. Fair trade for my boots.” She heads off, ducking the arbor as she goes, “There’s no place like home, Saintly!” she calls over her shoulder in her best Judy Garland voice. “See you there soon!” She disappears behind a pile of boxes, leaving a trail of red glitter behind her. I can hear her ordering the cab.

I sigh. Home is sounding good right now, but there’s no use arguing with Delia. She always gets what she wants.

Better get back to work.

I pick my way toward the box marked MND. In a moment I’m pushing aside a
papier mache
donkey head and shorting through gauzy wings and garlands of flowers. My hands are busy, but my mind keeps wandering back to this morning at the library. He bothered to switch my work assignments, which was…intrusive, sure, but well intentioned. At least, I think it was. I mean, he did it to help with the dance, right? And maybe to get to Delia through me. Guys are always doing that.

Although, if he wanted to talk to Delia, why not just find us at lunch?

Was he just trying to get me alone? The thought thrills and terrifies me. There’s no doubt Dev Renard is the sort of guy most girls would kill to be alone with, but adding someone like Dev to my life might be enough to put me over an edge.

Snap.

I sit up sharply. What was that? Another mouse, I’m sure, but my nerves are shot. I freeze perfectly still, straining to hear, but all I can hear is my own heart pounding. My mind explodes with a million memories of things I saw at Westgate, things I never want to see again. I try to shove the images into a room at the back of my mind and slam the door shut.

It’s nothing.

Snap
.

It isn’t nothing. It’s something—something too big to be a mouse. My pulse is racing. “Delia?” Maybe she came back for something. She’s always forgetting something. “Dev, is that you
?
” If this is his idea of a joke, I’ll kill him.

Footsteps. There’s a chinking noise and then—

“Hide in the kitchen

Hide in the hall

Ain’t gonna do you no

Good at all…”

Elvis’ voice booms through the warehouse.

The jukebox.

I’m up and on my feet, the prop knife still clutched in my hand, before it even has time to register. Someone is in the warehouse. Someone who isn’t answering. But they’re at the jukebox, which is in the back, which means they aren’t between me and the door.

I creep toward the front, bent nearly double so I can’t be seen over the piles. One step. Two. My heart is pounding so loud that I’m sure they can hear it. Three steps.

There’s a sizzling noise overhead as the florescent lights flicker out and the warehouse is plunged into darkness.

I yelp before I can stop myself and slap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Whoever they are, they must have heard me. They know where I am now. I can’t stay here.

But I can’t run. The room is a maze of God knows what and it’s pitch black. I could break my neck, bring a pile down on my head, get turned around and lose the door completely…

If I haven’t already. I think I know where the door is, but I can’t be sure. I inch in that direction, my ears straining for any sound.

But I can’t hear anything over the sound of Elvis singing.

Stretching the prop knife out in front of me, I prod the darkness, taking another step. My jeans catch on something sharp, and I stifle another yelp as the fabric rips, the tearing noise loud in the sudden silence. The song has ended. I can hear the
shush, shush
,
shush
of the record spinning and the chunk of another falling into place. And something else. Panting breath, heavy and wet.

“One way or another I’m gonna find you,

I’m gonna get you get you get you get you…”

Blondie screams to life over the speakers, drowning out the sound of breathing before I can tell where it’s coming from. The prop knife shakes in my sweaty hand.
You’re imagining this. It’s one of your episodes
. But is it? Or is it someone’s idea of a joke, or worse? There’s nothing to do but creep toward where I think the door is and get out of here as fast as I can.

But even if I get out, will I be safe? The neighborhood looked abandoned. Could anyone even hear me if I scream?

I can’t think about it. I have to keep moving.

Something else is moving, too. I can hear footsteps on the concrete floor, catch glimpses of motion between the piles—a darker patch of darkness slipping stealthily between the boxes.

But I can also see a slice of gray—what I hope is the outline of the door. That’s the good news.

The bad news is the shadow is headed that way. It’s on the other side of the pile from me now. I can hear it. If I don’t do something to stop it, it will reach the door before I do and there will be no way out. I have to do something.

Gathering all my strength, I ram my shoulder into the pile of boxes beside me, feeling the impact jolt down my spine. The pile shudders. The uppermost boxes topple, dragging the rest down with them, and there’s a massive crash as they hit the ground. Glass shatters and something cries out—a deep, animal noise of pain. I see the figure in the dark leap back. The barrier is down between us now and whoever it is stands opposite me. A slice of dim light cuts across the room, and for a moment I can make out someone…

Or some
thing.
It’s tall enough to be human, but the face…The nose is too long, the teeth too sharp. The eyes shine in the light like an animal’s.

The light! Someone must have opened the door!

I bolt. The thing leaps the boxes and it’s on my heels. I stumble over boxes, broken glass crunching under my feet, but I’m almost to the door.

Something snags my foot, and I go down hard. I scream as the glass bites into my palms and brace myself for worse.

Something grabs me from behind, pulling me to my feet. I struggle, kicking and thrashing against its grip. Wrenching my arm free, I drive the dagger as hard as I can into what I hope is the creature’s chest.

“Saintly! Stop! It’s me!”

The lights flicker back on and the warehouse is shot through with a sudden greenish glow. I look up to see what holds me.

“Dev!” His strong arms are pinned around me, his copper hair mussed, a look of complete shock in his bright blue eyes. And on his chest…

“Oh my God!” I drop the dagger and my hand flies to my mouth. A deep red stain is spreading across his white shirt. “I hurt you!”

He looks down at his blood-soaked shirt, his expression blank. He must be in shock.

“We have to get you to a doctor.” My voice comes out high-pitched with panic. I spin around to face the now-light warehouse. The floor is littered with boxes. A smashed lamp lies in jagged pieces in the middle of the path. “But where’s the beast?”

“The beast?” Dev echoes. Then he starts to laugh.

I turn and stare at him. “You must be delirious. You’re badly hurt. Here, give me your phone.”

“Saint, I’m not hurt.” His expression is equal parts amusement and concern. He picks up the knife from the floor. “Look.”

Before I can stop him, he drives the knife deep into his own palm. I scream.

But, although the knife sinks in to the hilt, the blade doesn’t come out the other side. There’s a little spurt of blood, but not nearly enough.

Relief floods me. “It’s fake.”

Dev holds up his hand, perfectly uninjured. “Collapsible. A prop.”

Of course. “Then the blood is fake.” I feel giddy with relief.

“My blood is, but yours isn’t.” His blue eyes narrow with concern. “Your hands, your cheek…” He brushes my cheek gently with his finger, and I wince away from his touch. “What happened?”

My words tumble out in a rush. “The music came on the juke box by itself and someone turned off the lights and I could hear someone—something—moving. It was breathing like—” I try to imitate the panting breaths, but my breathing is still too rapid. “I saw it! It had eyes like an animal!”

Dev’s expression darkens with worry, but I can’t tell if he’s worried about the beast or worried I’ve lost my mind. “Deep breaths, Saintly. It’s going to be all right.” Dev puts his arms around me, and I let him. He pulls me close. The feeling of his arms around me calms my breathing—and makes my heart race in a completely different way.

But we can’t stay here. Not if there’s any chance what I saw was real. I pull away. The fake blood on Dev’s shirt has left a mark on my own, like a bleeding heart. “We have to get out of here.”

“Saintly, really, I don’t think—”

There’s a noise from behind me. I spin to face it. Dev’s arms go back around me, protectively, as something emerges from the shadows.

It’s a cat, small and black and sleek. It picks its way through the wreckage towards us, mewing plaintively.

Dev laughs with relief. “Is that what you saw?”

“No!” My face is hot with embarrassment. “The thing I saw was bigger, much bigger. Its eyes were at my eye level!”

“Maybe the cat was standing on boxes.” Dev lets me go and reaches down to run a hand along the cat’s back. It arches into his touch.

“But what about the music? What about the lights?”

Dev eyes the fluorescents doubtfully. “These old places have iffy wiring. They may have blown some sort of fuse.”

“Then why did the lights go out, but the music came on? Why did the lights come back on when you hit the switch?” None of this makes any sense. I feel completely thrown off, like the ground has shifted underneath me.

Dev reaches out a hand to steady me. “You look shaken. We should get you out to the car so you can sit down.”

I’m not going to argue. Right now, getting out of this warehouse seems like the best possible idea.

I start for the door. Dev reaches down to the cat one more time, and I think he’s just saying goodbye, but when I glance back he’s looking at the cat with the strangest expression, like he’s furious with it. “I’ll deal with you later,” I hear him hiss under his breath.

Or at least I think that’s what I hear. How can I trust anything anymore?

Saintly

An hour later, I’m still sitting in the passenger seat of Dev’s car, a plaid picnic blanket from the trunk wrapped around me, my hands still shaking. Dev has loaded the last of the boxes into the trunk and piled the back seat with costumes, and now he’s gone back in to clean up the mess.
My
mess. The thought makes me feel awful. I pride myself on being the sort of person who cleans up her own messes, thank you very much, and I know I should be in there helping, but the thought of going back into the warehouse makes me feel sick. The monster may have been all in my head, but it doesn’t matter. My nerves are still shot.

Which is why I jump about ten miles when I see the wolf creature walk through the warehouse door.

No, not the wolf creature. I let out my breath. Dev, with a sort of wolf-skin cape over him. The wolf’s head is pulled up over his own like a hood, its face covering the top half of his face so that its muzzle protrudes out over his nose and his eyes shine through the empty eye holes. The skin of the wolf dangles down his back, the front legs knotted at his chest like the clasp of a cape, the tip of the tail grazing the ground behind him. In the half light he looks like some ancient warrior returning from the hunt.

He smiles at me from under the wolf’s muzzle as he walks up to my window and raps on the glass. “Look! I think we found your beast.”

I roll it down, but only about an inch. “You think that’s funny?”

Dev tips the mask up so the wolf’s nose is pointing straight up at the darkening sky, like its howling at the moon. I can see his whole face now, full of concern. “I’m not trying to make fun of you, Saintly. I just thought you might feel better knowing I solved the mystery. It was sitting on top of some boxes, right at your eye level. Made me jump just to see it, even with the lights on. I’m sure if I’d run into it in the dark…Well, it’s a wonder you didn’t have a heart attack.”

There’s no teasing in his voice. His face is full of sincerity. He’s genuinely trying to put me at ease.

I sigh. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m sure that’s what I saw. I’m sorry I snapped, I’m just…”

“Still on edge. I get it. Anybody would be.” He crouches down by my window so the furry head of the wolf is close enough to pat. “I think we’re ready to head back to campus. Get you home where you can have a cup of tea or a stiff drink or whatever might settle your nerves. Put the night behind us, okay?”

It’s the best idea I’ve heard all night, but I still feel bad. “What about the clean-up? You can’t possibly have done it all already.”

He shrugs, making the wolf-skin twitch. “I can come back and finish up tomorrow. It’s no big deal.”

“But it is a big deal! I don’t want you to have to come all the way back here.”

Dev waves off my concern with his hand. “No worries. I have a car; I know where the place is now. It won’t take long. Honestly, Saintly,” he smiles a little sadly, “I have nothing better to do.”

Suddenly, I feel bad for him. After all, it’s true: He doesn’t have anything else. Classes are over for the semester and Deals and I are probably two of the few people he has actually met. It’s going to be a quiet and boring winter break, and I get the impression Dev isn’t used to quiet and boring—isn’t longing for it, the way I am. For social, outgoing Dev, this must be hard.

And he’s clearly hinting. I should at least invite him to hang out with Delia and I. I mean, after he just put up with my insane anxiety and cleaned up my insane mess. My cheeks flush with embarrassment at the thought — then my blush deepens with something more than embarrassment as I remember the feeling of Dev’s body pressed against mine, his protective arms around me.