Page 32 of Forever Midnight

He is dead!

All the gods, Benedict is dead!

It is my fault. I was his ruin. His shame. His heartbreak.

I will never forgive myself. Never. If I could, I would join him in his afterlife right this moment. Only death could ease my wounded heart. Only his kiss could soften my pain.

Oh, the fates are cruel mistresses. To find such a perfect soul only to have it stolen away. By his own hand!

I am dead now. I will never know love again. For all eternity I will suffer. It is hardly just penance for tearing Benedict’s beauty from this world, but it is all I have.

My heart races as I flip the page, but there’s nothing else after that entry. If it’s a novel, it either has a weird ending or the author never finished it. Did Midnight write this? If he did, he should finish it. I bet a lot of people would like to read a historical romance between two men during the French Revolution. I mean, I would.

I attempt to tuck the book back on the shelf, but just before I do, an overwhelming sense of ownership overtakes me and I hold the book to my chest, strangely disoriented. A wave of panic hits me until I remember that strange drink the pretty redhead gave me. I bet all this sleeping and weirdness is a side effect. That has to be it. I do feel better though, so I guess it’s worth it.

I carry the book with me back to the couch, tucking in to read it again. It’s such a sad story, but something about it draws me in. It’s visceral and real. I can’t wait to ask Midnight about it when he returns.

While I wait, re-reading the text, my thoughts drift a bit. Knowing Midnight is out there right now killing someone should freak me out, but it doesn’t. Maybe because I’m all too aware of how unbalanced the world can be.

No one should have to suffer forever because of a mistake they made. So Lucia got caught up with some bad dudes and made a few crap choices. Ruining her life and her family’s lives isn’t fair at all. If Midnight can help me make it right, why should I care how he makes a living?

Settling in on the sofa, I lose myself in the tragic love story once more.

ChapterFifteen

MIDNIGHT

Creeping through the alleyways, I find Raphael perched on the bottom step of a fire escape, his gaze trained on the apartment below. As usual, the intense scent of urine, vomit, and decomposing rats fills the air, but I do my best to push it away and retain the lingering scent of Tru.

I join Raph as he nods. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I needed to make someone bleed. Yves suggested I find you.”

Raph grins. “Is your houseguest riling your bloodlust?”

“Something like that,” I grunt. “Who’s your target tonight?”

“Piece of shit pedo,” he answers. “This one leads some big church in the city. I recognized his face as soon as Yves handed me the file.”

“Oh, the dude that got acquitted?”

“That’s the guy. Yves wouldn’t tell me, but I’m pretty sure the dude’s wife is the client. Even though he got off, they lost their standing in society, he’s been sued a dozen times in civil suits, and his son accused him of molestation too.”

“Ugh.” I growl. “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

“Who knows? The religious ones piss me off the most.”

“Same.” My mouth waters at the mere thought of bleeding this guy out.

“We have to make it look like murder. No suicide or it voids his life insurance. I guess it’s not something anyone would believe he’d do anyway.”

“Narcissists never do.”

“Nope.”

“What’s going on in the apartment?”

“Don’t know. The walls are soundproof even for me. He went in with some shady looking guys about five minutes before you got here.”

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