Midnight is the Darkest Hour by Ashley Winstead

Author:Ashley Winstead
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

25

JUNE, TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD

We were inside a fairy tale, the still water of Starry Swamp a black mirror reflecting the night sky, a thousand stars shining on the surface, one great glittering universe above and below. As we glided through the water, caught somewhere between Heaven and earth, I thought about how none of this should be happening. Two summers ago, when we were nineteen, I’d done a great and terrible thing. Gotten involved in something Everett had expressly forbidden me to and made a deal with the Devil. It had caused Everett to move away. Back then, I’d been convinced I’d never see him again. Yet here we were two years later in the lovely dead of night, our canoe parting the stars. It was the surest proof I had that redemption existed.

He rowed, biceps straining under the sleeves of his black shirt, paddles dipping into the water. “‘The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks,’” he recited, in time with his movements. “‘The long day wanes. The slow moon climbs… Come, my friends, ’tis not too late to seek a newer world.’” Silence hung for a moment, then he asked, “Do you remember that?”

I looked around. The moon was half-shadowed, so the light in the swamp was low. Still, I could see the cypresses rising from the water well enough to duck their branches as we drifted past, push aside the curtains of Spanish moss. It was quiet tonight, the frogs and crickets subdued, only the faintest hooting of owls. As if the swamp shared my melancholy.

“Of course I remember.” The muscles in my back stretched as I rowed. “Lord Tennyson, from English class.” I would never forget the day Ever recited it. It was the first time I’d felt like I wasn’t alone. But that was four years ago, and so much had passed between us since then. “‘And though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and Heaven,’” I recited quietly, “‘that which we are, we are.’”

“You missing our glory days?” The corners of Ever’s mouth lifted. “Feeling nostalgic at the ripe old age of twenty-one?”

We navigated a narrow passage between two trees, their low branches dipping into the water like a woman bending over with cupped hands. Moonlight reflected off a pair of slitted eyes resting just above the water. The alligators weren’t afraid to come close, though they usually remained still as statues. Only their eyes tracked, waiting.

The branches, the gators, and me. Quiet longing everywhere.

“It’s different now that you’re only here for the summers,” I said.

He grew still at the other end of the boat. I knew talking about it made him uncomfortable. But it was the truth. He’d moved away from me, and now each time he came back, a clock started ticking, counting down our time together. Each minute felt precious. “You’re sitting right there,” I continued, “and somehow I already miss you.”

It was wrong of me to push. It was just… The first summer he’d returned after my terrible sin, I’d simply been happy to see him.

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