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Midnight Meows
At the
Stroke of Midnight
by
Lanette Curington
Although Olivia DeBenning
doesn't realize it, she’s
already had three brushes with death in her lifetime.
During a masquerade party, Death visits one last time.
The Cat’s Meow
by
Mae Powers
On All Hallows Eve, Prince Draemond must seek a new bride;
especially one that won’t cheat on him with his mistress.
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Excerpt |
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At the Stroke of
Midnight
By
Lanette Curington
The shade watched from
the tower window as guests, dressed in shimmering costumes with
masks in place, emerged from their conveyances and ascended the
stone steps to the castle entrance. As a diversion, he checked each
one’s hourglass while he waited for her.
When she arrived, he
glided closer to the window. If he still had a heart, it would have
raced inside his chest at the sight of her again. She wore
glittering white, a tumble of dark red curls cascading over one
alabaster shoulder, and a white mask across her eyes. He summoned
her hourglass…only a few grains of sand remained, slipping through
in slow motion. She had very little time left, mere hours. He was
not allowed to refill it because he had already used up the last of
his options on her.
No matter the price he
would pay later, he would take advantage of the thinness of the veil
on this particular night and cross to the other side. From sundown
until the stroke of midnight, he could mingle with mortals and not
sense their unease at his presence, look into their eyes and not see
fear, touch them and not cause their souls to flee their bodies. He
anticipated the experience with an excitement he hadn’t felt in
millennia. Tonight he would know again what they fought so hard to
cling to when he came for them.
As the sun sank behind
the horizon, his shadowy form filled out to resemble that of a
living, breathing human being. He stretched out his upper limbs,
spreading his fingers wide. The familiarity of this body startled
him. He thought he had forgotten what his human body felt like. A
smile curved his lips then fell away as quickly. She was running out
of time.
He made a strange
gesture, shrouding his body in black satin. He gestured again and a
tall black scythe appeared in his hand. He wielded it with ease, the
long curved blade whispering as it cut a swath through the air.
Snapping the edge of
his robe, he dematerialized in a bright silvery shimmer. When he
reappeared below, no one would question his presence. The masquerade
ball celebrated All Hallows Eve and others would be similarly
dressed. He wore the costume of the Grim Reaper, but it was no
disguise. He collected the souls of mortals when their hourglasses
ran empty, and his name was Death.
* * * *
“Isn’t everything
lovely?” Olivia DeBenning raised her voice to be heard over the
eerie music, raucous laughter, and buzz of conversation that filled
the Great Hall of Greystone Castle. “I think the ball is a success,
don’t you?”
On the other side of
the banquet table, her friend Margot Conway fumed, a frown wrinkling
her white-powdered face. The tall Marie Antoinette wig leaned
perilously to one side. She pushed at it with the back of her hand,
but that only made it skew the other way.
“Where have you been?”
Margot snapped.
“Tending our guests
and making sure everyone is having a good time. Mayor Dresden said—”
“They’ve emptied
another bowl of punch and it needs to be refilled.” Margot planted
her fists on the wide panniers of her costume. The froth of lace
spilling from her sleeve threatened to knock over a stack of paper
plates.
“I’ll do it.” Olivia
moved to pick up the crystal punch bowl on loan from Davy Wilson’s
great-aunt. Olivia had argued against using the antique, but his
Aunt Louvenia had insisted. The elderly lady remembered the parties
held in the castle when she was a young girl and wanted to help make
this celebration special.
Margot reached for the
bowl at the same time. “No, I’ll do it, Liv. You’ve already done
so much. The castle is gorgeous, and all because of you.”
Olivia frowned, trying
to decide if she detected a bite of sarcasm in her friend’s tone of
voice. Margot was tired, that was all. They all were. Volunteers had
been working every spare minute the past few weeks to prepare the
castle for this night. “Nonsense. Everyone on the committee helped
to decorate the castle.”
“But the Chamber of
Commerce is giving you the award tonight,” Margot pointed out
peevishly.
“Only because I was
voted chairperson. It belongs to the entire committee.” Olivia
brushed Margot’s hands away and lifted the bowl, hugging it close to
keep it safe. “I’ll get the punch.”
“Are you sure you can
manage, Liv?” Margot asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” she said
stiffly and turned, but her leg had begun to throb.
At that moment, out
of nowhere, a cowled figure in black satin appeared in her path |
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The Cat’s
Meow
by
Mae Powers
Chapter One
Once upon an ancient year, there lived a prince
from the magical land of Mythlick. This prince married a princess-witch with
hair of the brightest sun-gold that couldn’t be matched anywhere else in the
kingdom, including any surrounding magical or normal lands. He thought himself
lucky, and in love with her. Until she cheated on him.
With his mistress, at that.
So he divorced the princess, and his mistress
disappeared. He swore he’d never marry again, perhaps not even have a mistress.
However, when the time came that the prince’s
father neared death, and wanted to make sure the kingdom had an heir, he bade
his son to reconsider his words and find a bride. Royal babies would make the
king happy. The prince was very close to his father and could not disregard the
king’s words. So, the prince promised he would find a bride by his father’s
favorite day of the year; All Hallows Eve.
Being in a magical kingdom, of moderate to
advanced or light to nothing magically endowed subjects, the prince knew it
would be hard to make a wise choice and pick a beauty that would please him.
Now as it happened before, he’d thought himself
in love with his mistress, who’d been a favorite lady-in-waiting to his late
mother. But when he’d met his ex-wife, the witchly Princess Marigold from a
neighboring kingdom, he’d fallen in lust and more with Marigold. However, he’d
felt bewitched throughout the marriage. So when he’d found out about his wife
cheating with his mistress, he felt as if a spell had been broken, but he’d also
been disheartened in love. For part of him had really loved his mistress.
Middle-aged King Rychard, a sorcerer of sorts,
couldn’t have been more pleased with his son, Prince Draemond. Though ill, he
swore to live to see the day his son married again for happiness. Draemond,
unlike his conniving younger brothers and cousins, really cared for his father,
the king, and didn’t want the kingdom to pass on to them. So, he decided to hold
a ball and invite all the eligible princesses and ladies in his kingdom and
surrounding ones.
Of course, being a cheerful monarch who liked to
make sure his siblings were happy too, King Rychard decided he wanted to attend,
if only to sit and watch. The prince agreed to this, but only if the king let
his son take care of the preparations and choose his own bride.
The king, even though ill, promised all his son
asked, provided he would at least let him meet the bride-select before the
announcement to make his comments. Draemond could find naught wrong with this so
agreed to this provision too. The prince trusted his father’s instincts where
people were concerned, and as it seemed to make the king perkier in his health,
Draemond decided that as long as the king’s health held and the festivities
weren’t too much, he’d let the king assist in his choice of brides and help with
the ball.
Since his father hadn’t chosen his former
mistress or wife for him, Draemond felt that King Rychard would probably be good
at helping him to see past any bewitching allure the invited princesses might
use to cloud his judgment in settling on a future queen.
Draemond’s heart was already crushed twice
emotionally, so he decided it would not play an active part in choosing his
queen. He knew besides seeking a healthy body and prettiness, he had to at least
feel amicable towards the unknown future bride so they could get along the rest
of their lives and rule a kingdom. Draemond thought hard about what he wanted in
a new bride.
Standing on his private balcony, he looked out
over the vast magical kingdom of Mythlick and pondered all he wanted in a woman,
his future queen. One hand behind his back, the other holding onto the marbled
railing, he watched as the sun set, reminding him of Marigold with her bright
gold-red hair, more gold like the brightness of the midday sun. They’d gotten
along well, he thought, and he’d had a tendresse for her. And her sky blue eyes
bewitched his libido and his heart too.
She’d been dainty and of a sweet demeanor, but
with very lush curves. So why had she strayed to seek out other lovers—amongst
those, his mistress Silvera?
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