Page 2 of Bite of Midnight
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, signing off my last chart. “But if a monster touches me, I’m punching it.”
I leave Tina and Maya cackling at the nurses station as I make my final rounds to check on my patients before going home.
By the time I clock out, it’s nearly seven. The drive home is quiet, the hum of my car and the glow of streetlights lulling me into that post-shift daze. My body’s exhausted, but my brain won’t stop spinning.
When I finally step inside my apartment, I drop my keys, kick off my shoes, and head straight for the bathroom. I turn the shower on as hot as it will go, then strip, tossing all of my clothes directly in the laundry hamper.
The second the hot water hits my skin, I let out a soft groan. “Oh, thank God.”
I stand there for a few minutes, eyes closed, letting the steam wash away twelve hours of chaos, blood, coffee, adrenaline, andfluorescent lights. For the first time all day, it’s quiet. Just me and the rush of water.
By the time I towel off, my reflection looks human again.
“Alright,” I mutter, flipping through hangers. “Costume. Let’s see what we’ve got.” Scrubs. Jeans. That hideous mauve bridesmaid dress I wore to my cousin's wedding last year. And, oh, hello, yellow sundress. It’s soft and flowy, sunshine in fabric form. Definitely not spooky, but at least it doesn’t smell like antiseptic. I hold it up and sigh. “You’ll have to do.”
I slip it on and catch my reflection in the mirror. The dress hugs my curves, my full hips, thick thighs, and soft stomach. I’m a size eighteen, and most days I’ve made peace with that. But tonight, under the bathroom light, I hesitate. Maya’s petite. Brooke could model. Tina’s fit without even trying. Me? I’m… real. “Maybe too real,” I murmur, smoothing the fabric. Then, quieter, “You’re fine, Calla. You’re more than fine.”
Still, it’s been a long time since anyone’s made me feelseen. The last few dates were disasters, guys who wanted a fling, not a future. I’m twenty-seven. I want something real. Someone steady. Someone who doesn’t flinch at the idea of forever. Someone who’d actuallyshow up.
I imagine him, the impossible man my heart keeps inventing when I can’t sleep. He’d be tall, with dark hair and eyes that look straight through me. Broody, a little dangerous, but gentle with me. The kind of man who’s protective in a way that feels safe. He’d hold me close, touch me like I’m precious, and love me like it’s his purpose. Possessive. Devoted. Mine.
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve officially gone off the deep end, Calla.”
Still smiling, I rummage through the back of my closet, and freeze when something plastic and feathery brushes my fingers. I pull it out and burst out laughing. “No way.”
A pair of glittery white fairy wings. Leftover from some long-forgotten bachelorette party.
I hold them up to my back. They’re ridiculous. And perfect.
“Okay,” I tell my reflection. “You’re not going as a nurse. You’re going as a fairy who makes bad life choices.”
I plug in my curling iron and start fixing my hair. The soft blonde strands fall into loose waves, and I swipe on shimmery gold eyeshadow, mascara, and just enough gloss to pretend I’ve slept in the last forty-eight hours. A little highlighter catches the light when I turn my head.
By the time I’m done, I actually look… happy. Like maybe the version of me who used to believe in magic decided to show up for the night.
My phone buzzes again.
Brooke: Outside. If you don’t get your sexy ass down here I’m coming up to drag you out.
I guess it’s time to go. Outside, Brooke’s car idles at the curb, her music thumping low. She rolls down the window when she sees me. “Oh my God,” she laughs. “You look like sunshine with a caffeine addiction. I love it.”
I grin and climb in. “I’m a fairy. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” she says, backing out of the driveway. “Tonight’s gonna be magic.”
As we drive into the October night, the moon hangs heavy above the road, silver and expectant. Something in the air feels charged.
Chapter 2
DAMIEN HALE
The night hums with music and blood.
From the balcony, I watch the crowd swirl below, humans masked as monsters, monsters pretending to be human. Another year. Another Halewood masquerade.
I tell myself it’s just a party, but that’s a lie I’ve repeated for a thousand years. I host this every Halloween not for pleasure, but for possibility.
Every invitation, every flicker of candlelight, every heartbeat beneath these vaulted ceilings… it’s all forher.
