At the Stroke of Midnight (2 page)

helped when the strongest medication didn't, and his easy personality always calmed her.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I'm such a klutz--"

"Don't be silly," he said soothingly. "We'll have you fixed up in no time, just like

always."

9

Olivia could have sat there all night and let him massage her leg, but the guests

needed their attention. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes. "It feels much better

now. Thank you."

"No problem." Davy straightened her costume and stood. "Why don't you use one

of the back rooms to rest a while?"

She shook her head. "There's too much to do."

"I'll fill the punch bowl and take it out with the food." He lifted the bowl from the

table and set it on the serving cart. "If you need anything, let me know."

"I will."

She watched him empty jugs of punch from the refrigerator, then pull out trays of

appetizers from the warming ovens. When he had the cart loaded, he flashed her a grin.

"You know, I'm glad you ended up with the Cinderella costume. Margot could

never carry it off."

Olivia smoothed the tulle skirt. "Me, too."

"Besides," he added with a chuckle, "she deserves to have to fight that wig."

"Now, Davy, she's our friend," Olivia admonished lightly.

He shrugged. "Okay, I won't say anything else...except with friends like Margot

we don't need enemies."

He left through the noisy door before she could scold him again.

10

~*~

Alone, Olivia shifted her leg and noticed no difference in the level of pain. She

knew Margot wasn't the best kind of friend, but they had been best friends for as long as

she could remember. Growing up, they had lived less than a mile from one another on the

same road. They had shared birthday parties, traded dolls, and faced the unknown terrors

of kindergarten together. Davy had been there, too, but he was a boy. It was only later

that Olivia considered him a better friend than Margot. Sometimes it was difficult to let

go of the past.

Olivia straightened her skirt again, carefully placing each fold just so. The

committee had decided on classic disguises for themselves, and Margot had immediately

claimed Marie Antoinette. They'd had to drag Davy to the costume shop in Memphis.

She saw the ice white skirt had peeking out from the overwhelming array of

colorful costumes, and she wanted it even before she had pulled it free and found out

what character it was. The glittery, white, gossamer fabric bedazzled her, and she didn't

have to look any further. This costume was meant to be hers.

"Cinderella!" Margot had snatched the gown from her, nearly tearing the delicate

material. "I was looking for that."

Olivia's heart sank and the familiar throb began in her thigh. She must have turned

her leg slightly when Margot took the dress. "I thought you were looking for Marie

Antoinette."

"Was I?" Margot laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on Olivia's nerves, and

a sign that Margot was in one of her contrary moods. "Well, I must have changed my

mind!"

Margot held the dress up in front of her and twirled before the full-length mirror.

"Cinderella is blonde and so am I."

"Only in cartoons," Olivia pointed out, but Margot wasn't listening.

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Margot's pale complexion and light yellow hair washed out against the stark

white. Olivia knew it would better suit her darker coloring. "Margot, I found the dress."

"But, Liv, I had my heart set on Cinderella." Margot pouted, thrusting out her

bottom lip.

How many times had she given in to Margot's demands? Too many to count.

"No, you had your heart set on Marie Antoinette." Davy stepped from behind a

rack, Red Devil in one hand, Grim Reaper in the other. "You've been talking about

nothing else since we decided on classic costumes."

Margot's face screwed up in anger. "Why does everyone always take her side? It

was her idea to wear classic costumes and the rest of the committee automatically

agreed!"

Her shrill voice grew louder and carried across the store. The heat of

embarrassment crept into Olivia's cheeks, and the ache in her leg had worsened. She

could only watch as Margot stamped her foot and threw the white costume to the floor.

"There! You can have it," she sneered.

Davy shook his head and retrieved the gown. "Hey, you can go as Cinderella

before the Fairy Godmother decks her out, dressed in rags and covered in soot."

Davy hooted with laughter, and Margot's face turned an alarming shade of red.

"You-You-You little worm," she spluttered and stormed out the door.

"You shouldn't have said that." Olivia took the dress from him. Miraculously, the

ache in her muscles had eased. She'd be able to try it on and make sure of the fit.

"She'll get over it." He held up the Red Devil and Grim Reaper for her inspection.

"Which do you think I should wear?"

"The Red Devil, by all means," Olivia said with a laugh. "It matches your impish

personality!"

They had tried on their costumes. The Cinderella dress fit her as if it had been

made for her. She stood in front of the mirror and twirled to make the skirt stand out.

Over the years, she had often wished for a fairy godmother of her own. Instead of clothes

and a pumpkin coach, her magical benefactress would make her whole again.

Then she would be able to attend a gala ball where someone as handsome and

charming as a prince would fall madly in love with her and they'd dance the night away.

In her secret fantasy, she wouldn't return to the old handicapped Olivia at the stroke of

midnight. No, her magically granted wish would last forever.

12

They rented the Marie Antoinette costume for Margot anyway. She didn't speak to

either of them on the ride home. When they stopped to drop her off, she had snatched up

her boxes, slamming the door after her. Later, as usual, she acted as if nothing had

happened.

Olivia sighed, stood, and walked a few steps. She had too much to do to be sitting

there lost in thought and nursing a bum leg .The dull throb that thrummed through her

muscles had eased a bit after Davy's massage. She took a few more steps. If she was

careful not to twist it again, she would make it through the evening. She took another few

steps.

Satin rustled sensually behind her. "Olivia."

She turned her upper body around. "You!"

Then she frowned. She hadn't heard a sound from the squeaky door, the only way

to enter the kitchen from the castle. The outside door was in front of her, and she was

sure no one had come through it. "How did you--"

"Are you all right, Olivia?" he asked in a rush, as if he had expected to find her

writhing in pain.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "But how do you know my name? You say you

know me, but I-I don't quite know you. Tell me who you are."

"I am called Death. You're in danger tonight."

"What are you talking about? Do you mean the limp? I was injured in an accident

as a child. It comes and goes. They say--" She bit her lip. Why did she feel the urge--no,

the
need
to explain her life to him at this moment?

"No." He shook his head, the side-to-side movement slow and exaggerated.

"Danger comes from another source."

It was a joke, of course, and her sudden laugh sounded bitter. "Did Margot put

you up to this? Oh, I know...the committee thought it would be a funny Halloween trick.

I'm afraid, I'm not in the mood tonight."

Whoever devised the prank couldn't have known she would hurt herself.

Ordinarily, she wouldn't mind, but the mishap with her leg had robbed her of her sense of

humor She had missed so many good times in her life because of the injury. School

dances and proms, picnics, roller-skating, trying out for cheerleading...the endless list had

become a tally sheet of her pathetic life.

13

"Please tell them I'm not up to a practical joke tonight." She caught another

glimpse of his silver eyes inside the cowl, and familiarity washed over her again. "Did we

go to school together?"

He shook his head.

"Do you live here in Glenville?" she persisted.

"No."

A piteous mewling from outside caught her attention. She went to the back exit

and swung the heavy door open. A small, dark shape darted inside, threading between her

legs.

"Midnight! There you are." Before the black cat could cause her to trip and fall

and really do some damage, she lifted him into her arms. He purred contentedly as he

rubbed his head against her chin. "I've been worried about you."

The cat is yours?" Death asked.

"He showed up when we started decorating the castle, and I shared my lunch with

him every day. I call him Midnight." She scratched behind his ear. "We had become such

good friends, I decided to take him home with me today. I was afraid something had

happened to him when he didn't show up this afternoon."

He moved closer to her and stared at the cat intensely. He touched the sleek black

fur, then quickly withdrew. "Keep him with you, Olivia. Don't let him outside again or

he'll not survive."

Olivia stepped away. "That's not funny! You've carried this joke too far."

Thunder rumbled low and long and a quick crack split the night air. A bright flash

of lightning lit up the sky for a few seconds.

"No, that's impossible!" Olivia groaned and went to the threshold, staring up at

the cloudless sky. "The forecast called for warm temperatures and no rain. The costume

contest will be held in the bailey later. Rain will ruin it."

Death swept around her and shut the door. "There'll be no rain. It's a warning...for

me."

"I've had enough of this," she snapped. "It's obvious Margot put you up to this

because she hates the cat. Midnight always hissed at her when she came too near him or

me. You can tell Margot it didn't work--"

"Tell me about the castle," he interrupted smoothly.

"Wh-What?" she stammered, disconcerted by the abrupt change in subject.

14

He looked around at the stone walls. "I don't know its history."

"Greystone Castle," she filled in automatically.

For nearly three years, her life had been consumed by the castle. Every waking

hour had been spent wracking her brain for ideas on how to save it, every spare moment

had been used discussing with other committee members ways to raise money to fund it,

and every night had been spent restlessly dreaming about it--among other surreal images.

"Isn't it unusual to find a structure such as this in this geographical location?" he

asked.

His question threw her further off-center. She had been gearing up to give him a

piece of her mind and then he calmly asked about the castle. The diversionary tactic

worked, she thought wryly, feeling deflated. Pride in the committee's accomplishments

displaced her anger.

"Yes. Yes, it is," she replied.

The strangely worded question made him seem out of place and out of time. He

didn't really speak as if English were his first language, but he didn't sound foreign either.

He had no accent, his pronunciation flat and neutral like newscasters and most actors on

television. There was no hint of the southern, country drawl that people spoke with in the

Mid-South area.

Olivia peered into the cowl, but she saw nothing more than before--the impression

of a thin face and gray eyes that seemed to absorb the light and give off a silvery glow.

Specialty contact lenses, she guessed. Davy had bought some red lenses to go with his

costume, but they irritated his eyes too much to wear.

"The usual story," she began and shifted Midnight to her other arm. "An eccentric

millionaire with more money than he knew what to do with. Early in the nineteen

hundreds, Edward Grey was very old and his second wife was very young. Whatever she

wanted, no matter the cost, he gave it to her. One day, she decided she wanted to live in a

castle, so Edward had architects design a small castle. He shipped in stones from derelict

castles in Britain to build it. Edward lived only a few years after it was finished, and his

wife didn't live much longer."

Olivia walked around the table and sat in the kitchen chair. Midnight settled in her

lap, purring loudly as she stroked his fur.

15

"Is that when Greystone became the property of the city?" he asked, but Olivia

didn't think he was much interested in the answer. He stood still, poised as if waiting for

someone--or something to happen.

"No, Edward had two sons from his first marriage. Neither of them was very