Seconds to Midnight: A Maiden of Midnight Prequel
Cain- Day Two

Cain- Day Two

Despite Destiny’s eagerness the night before to continue the NightShade mission, I found waking her the next morning to be exceptionally hard. At least she was getting some sleep, I supposed, rather than continuing her three-week streak of refusing it.

Her Guardians had spent the night, watching movies with their Princess while I worked out the final details for my cousin, utterly uninterested in the genre, romantic comedy, that they’d chosen. Hearing Des laugh alongside them, however awkward and quiet, had been a lifesaver.

Bal’gag and Nym were on the floor, half-buried in a pile of blankets and pillows, surrounded by spilt remains of popcorn and pieces of fruit skewers that Des had ordered up to the room. Lydiav was seated at the vanity, head down, bottles of nailpolish and makeup around her.

Des was in the bed, right where I’d left her after rising this morning to shower and plan, as well as contact some people around Pangorama to replace out more about this dance she was going to. My cousin didn’t dance. Everyone in the Manor knew it, so why, of all people, would Zeella and Lilith choose her for this mission? Was it because of her discretion, the fact that they knew she was loyal to the Manor?

Or was it a clever trap, and Zeella teaching her a lesson of some kind?

She’d said Agron had been the one to give out the mission, but I didn’t believe that. He had no interest in Eden or returning Lilith to her uncursed status there.

Striding over to the bed, shaking off thoughts of missions and dances, filling them instead with ones of breakfast, I reached over to where Des was sprawled across the mattress, a blanket wrapped around her body, her hair a mess down her back. Shaking her lightly, I murmured, “Des.” It was well past dawn. I would have been up hours ago, in the Caliem camp. She groaned wordlessly, dragging a silken pillow over her face.

“I thought you wanted to keep working on the NightShade mission?” I teased, hoping it would spur her into action. When she wanted to stay somewhere, my cousin was known for being stubborn.

She rolled over, dragging the pillow off her face to glare weakly at me, the expression dulled by the childish annoyance at being awoken in her scent, and she hissed, “The man is impossible to kill! Another hour of waiting won’t hurt!”

It could, and she knew it. Before I could remind her that the man had been hunting Super-Naturals, and time was of the essence, there were footsteps outside, leading up to our quarters. The effect was instant.

Destiny shot to her feet in a heartbeat, running her Demi-Sin ability over her to hide the pyjamas, replacing them with a plain black, long-sleeved dress, smoothing her hair out and sweeping popcorn remnants off her desk, taking a seat and dragging over the case files, opening both of them in case Zeella demanded to know why she was studying one over the other.

Operation NightShade, and Operation Hallowed Ground.

Hopefully there were no others I needed to know about.

Knowing Zeella would question the unmade bed, I did her the favour of kicking off my shoes and peeling my shirt off, sliding into the still-warm spot she’d left behind and dragging the covers over me, undoing and ruffling my hair and closing my eyes just in time for there to be a knock at the door.

A ribbon of Destiny’s power unlocked it, pulling it open, Zeella striding in. Destiny’s Guardians, wisely, slept on.

I heard his scoff of disgust at the mess, and he closed the door, muttering, “I’m glad to see you, at least, are being productive.” Shooting to her feet, Destiny clasped her hands behind her back, curtseying.

Keeping still, my breathing even, I faked starting awake when Zeella slapped the book he was carrying across the back of my head, the Sin of Lust snarling, “You should be up at this hour! No wonder your war camp is in shambles, if their General cannot replace himself rising at an acceptable time!”

Groaning sleepily, I rubbed at the back of my head, bowing and mumbling, “Apologies, my Lord. I drank a little too much last night.”

Behind Zeella, Destiny shot me an apologetic grimace that only worsened when Zeella snapped, “You will be rising an hour earlier than expected every day at the war camp, to teach you not to be lazy!”

When Zeella turned away to survey the mess, I winked at my cousin, watching her mouth, “Thank you.”

Taking the blame was what I was good at. For her, I would take any punishment or derision.

Turning to face her father, giving me time to rise and pull my shoes and shirt back on, righting my hair by tying it neatly in a bun once again, Destiny asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my Lord?”

Placing the book down on the desk, Zeella eyed the door to the room, his power activating the silence wards across it. Eyeing the both of us, he warned, “I expect your complete discrepancy on this.”

“Of course,” we both echoed, looking curiously to each other. The book was from Earth, detailing the history that we, as Super-Naturals, knew to be true.

“There have been rumours,” Zeella began, “About Eden surviving the Legacy War. None of the Archangels have deigned to respond to my request for information, so I want you, Desterium, to replace out if those rumours are true. In addition to your NightShade and…” He peered over at the file, sneering at the name, “Hallowed Ground missions, I will be resurrecting Project Lazarus.” Destiny locked eyes with me, worry and annoyance flickering.

Project Lazarus. The bane of our existence.

No matter what we did, contacts we kept, or stories we chased down, it only led to dead ends. The Sacreds were gone. Eve and Eden gone with them.

She’d died long before the Legacy War had even started, or Des and I had been born.

No amount of complaining or reasoning was going to get Zeella and Lilith to back down out of the mission.

“I will have the case files from Earth sent to both of you. Read over them, revive your knowledge about Eden and the Sacreds, as well as everything we know about the Paradoxin Rift.” We were going to have our work cut out for us.

Knowing better than to argue, we bowed to Zeella, who swung on his heel, leaving the book on Destiny’s desk and storming out. Before we could sigh in relief, Zeella’s boot slammed between the door and the frame, preventing it from closing, and with another derisive sneer at the room, he snapped, “And clean this filth up!”

The slamming of the door when he left woke Bal’gag, Nym and Lydiav, all three Guardians rising to their feet and scanning the room wildly for the source of the noise, Des rushing to give me a hug.

“I didn’t mean for you to take the blame,” she said. I shrugged, laughing, “Des, the Royals don’t bother to worry themselves with the camp. They’re too good for soldiers like me and my men.”

She grimaced, considering herself to be lumped in with the Royals, and with a kiss to her cheek, I reassured, “Not you, of course.”

“You train my men while I stay here…” She mumbled. I laughed, “You can hardly train soldiers while you’re dead, can you? Zeella has no idea what time I rise in the camp. I’ll keep rising at my usual time, and tell him it’s an hour earlier. He’ll be none the wiser.”

“I didn’t want you getting called lazy, though. You have a good reputation here. I don’t want to ruin it.” Releasing her from my hug, I waggled my fingers at her, spinning her to face the case files and singing playfully, “Focus on your reputation, Assassin, and I’ll focus on mine.” She beamed in pride at the title, skipping back toward her desk and dragging the NightShade file toward her, flipping through the information we’d gathered already on Taron Carten. That’s how easy it was to diverge her attention. I smiled to myself.

“Nightshade is throwing a party in three weeks. It could be a good time to strike,” she hummed, tapping the page. I strode over, examining the invitation she’d lifted off a guest. It was a thick, cream paper, embossed with a vine and leaf pattern, and boasting about being ‘The best party Pangorama will ever see!’.

I nodded, adding, “From the looks of it, there’s no theme, so it should be easy enough for you to sneak in.”

“I’ll just need to disguise myself as a guest.” Her Demi-Sin ability flickered to life around her, shifting through various appearances before settling back on her own.

Nym emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and no longer smelling of alcohol, while Bal’gag had vanished to change. Lydiav was also gone.

Turning to Destiny, the Guardian questioned, “Should we plan for Hallowed Ground, or Nightshade?”

“Both. And…” Destiny trailed off, looking to me for support, and with a heavy sigh, I revealed, “And Project Lazarus.”

Nym groaned loudly, crying out, “Why?! Eden is gone, Eve is dead! What else do they want?!” Destiny was already dragging out her laptop, signing into the archives and scrolling back through centuries of information. All of the failed searches for Eden, Eve, and Adam. The hunt for the Legacy items to open the Paradoxin Rift, all the research that led up to the Rift being opened, the subsequent war and destruction of Earth… She hit print for all of it, sending it to the printer in the library downstairs. It would take hours to go through that information again.

“Best guess? Because of Johann coming forward with information about Eve, it’s sent Lilith into a panic,” Destiny said, “She’s probably excited to replace out what he knows.”

“With the addition of Project Lazarus, we need to push the meeting with Johann up as quickly as possible. You can still go to the dance, but I want to speak with him first,” I told them both, Destiny tilting her face dramatically to the sky and sighing, “Whyyy? Can’t they wait a week?”

My mother was not the kind of person to wait. Des knew that. If my cousin thought about it for a moment, she would realise that going early meant she wouldn’t need to attend the dance.

Eyeing her pointedly, I waited until she gave in with a groan, muttering, “Fine. I guess Lilith wouldn’t want us to wait, and it would mean I don’t need to dance.” Smiling knowingly, glad to have been right, I pulled out my phone, searching through my contacts for Johann’s name.

When I found it, I held up a finger for Des to wait, since she was drawing in breath to start speaking, I tapped ‘Call’ and strode out, heading across our shared quarters and into my bedroom. It was a simple room. Grey walls, weapons in a rack against the wall, everything I needed to survive.

Johann picked up on the third ring, answering with a drunken, slurred, “The Prince of Demons! How can I help?”

“The information you have on Eve and Eden. I want it. Now.”

He laughed on the other end of the phone, my words sobering him in an instant, prompting, “I believe the Manor has already arranged a meeting with me. Your darling cousin was to be sent out?”

“Things have changed. Give me the information, Johann. You’re my contact!” I snarled when he laughed again, only for him to sigh, “Meet me at ten in the Angel Oriental. Bring that pretty cousin of yours.”

He hung up before I could. I swung on my heel, cursing the idiotic man, and wrenched my bedroom door open to replace Destiny eavesdropping, a curious expression on her face. She had changed into her Assassin uniform, throwing a black leather jacket over the top. In Pangorama, it would be considered an eccentric fashion, but not uncommon at all. Inferos was hidden in her boot, and there was a gun tucked into her jacket pocket.

“Are you still mad about me keeping the mission a secret from you?” She pried nosily, following me not to her room, but out into the hallway. I dipped my chin to some passing members of the court, one of them spitting at Destiny’s feet. My cousin ignored the slight, although I could see the scowl she fought back, keeping her face deceptively plain. She wanted my honest response to her question, not whatever I read she wanted on her face.

“I’m not mad, Des, I’m hurt. We’re allies,” I said, low under my breath. She nodded, looking confused.

By the depths of Hell… There were some days when I could have throttled my cousin. Today was fast gearing up to be one of them.

“How would you have felt if I left you out of a secret the rest of the court knew?”

She paused, realisation clicking in, and stepped neatly in front of me. I didn’t expect an apology from her, would not get one any other day. She offered me a tentative, apologetic smile, murmuring, “I’ll let you know whenever I’m given a mission from now on.”

“It’s for your safety, too. You are a Princess of Caliem.” I noticed the wince she hid at the name, preferring Britain. The smile began to melt away, replaced again by that colder mask.

The British Manor had been a major part of our childhood, so to hear us now referred to as Caliem Royals was just another reminder of how much Destiny had lost. I was used to it. Des, thanks to her dying, had spent less time being able to adjust with us. She hated it every time the title was mentioned.

“People will hunt you. They’ll try to hurt you.”

“Don’t I know it,” she laughed softly. I grimaced, reaching forward and gripping her hands in mine, begging in a whisper, “I cannot live without you.”

Her hands hovered awkwardly in my own, her muscles tensing, like she wasn’t sure what to do with the show of affection, before she squeezed my fingers, slipping out of the grasp and patting my arm. Damn, it was that bad? I knew the Dome training had been getting to her, but the idea that she was forgetting how to love was distressing.

“What? Have you forgotten how to hug me, cousin?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she wrapped her arms around my waist, murmuring, “I forget a lot of things, Cain, but not how much I love you.”

I softened against her, some of the panic dying down, and she released me the instant my scent would have changed.

Had she only hugged me to stave off that worry? Shit. She was too damned clever. All it had done was left me wondering if the hug and words had been genuine, or a performance put on just for me. No- she wouldn’t admit love unless she felt it, no matter what. She loved me as much as I loved her. Or… She loved me as much as her Dome training allowed for her to love me. It all relied on her capacity for it. I would take whatever she would offer me, however stupid or desperate that sounded.

Loving Destiny could be like swallowing a poison willingly.

You knew, at some point, it would kill you. Slowly. Painfully. But you loved it enough to take the pill anyway, and cherish every moment it gave before death took you away.

I had taken that pill a long time ago, and no matter how many times she hurt me, I found myself going back; addicted to her love. My loyalty laid with her. Always. No matter how destructive. She could ram the dagger between my ribs herself, and I would praise her for her accuracy in striking my heart.

We were Cradle-to-Grave, and she would undoubtedly be the one to put me there.

I only wondered if she would care about me enough to cry at my funeral the way I would cry at hers.

“Where are we going?” She asked when we headed down another level of stairs.

“The garage. Can’t go to the Angel Oriental without a sick ride.”

“I still have the S-Class, don’t I? We can take that.” Her offer was one made in peace, another reassurance just for me. I smiled at her.

I had recently bought myself a car- an S-Class, the vehicle class that Destiny preferred.

Built for speed but designed to be sleek, it was a beautiful creature. My little cousin would love this car. She had eyed it off, once, wanting it for herself. Pausing in front of the door to the garage, I sung, “Actually, there’s something better I have in mind…”