3 Minutes to Midnight: Urban Fantasy Midnight Trilogy Book 1 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgement

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  Author Note

  A Quick Thanks

  WHERE TO FIND ME ONLINE

  3 Minutes

  TO

  Midnight

  Midnight Trilogy Book 1

  L.M. Hatchell

  3 Minutes to Midnight

  Midnight Trilogy Book 1

  First published by ALX Publishing 2020

  Cover Design by CBC Designs

  Editing by Three Point Author Services

  & Sian Phillips

  Paperback ISBN: 9781916365100

  Copyright © 2020 by L.M. Hatchell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  L.M. Hatchell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  For Mick, who first spoke the phrase that kickstarted my imagination

  Abi is going to kill me!

  Phoenix pushed through the throng of arms and legs that flooded towards her in a never-ending sea of bodies. Visibility was almost non-existent thanks to the relentless downpour of rain and her vibrant red hair plastered to her face. More than once she had to duck to avoid the kamikaze pigeons dive-bombing their way through the crowds while giant seagulls circled ominously overhead.

  The bitter wind stabbed at her as she navigated her way through the city streets back to Connolly Train Station. Darkness fell around her and she longed for the warm comforts of home: the cosy pub that was her sanctuary as she worked, the easy chatter and friendly banter with customers. Being dry.

  She sighed.

  What the hell had she been thinking coming into Dublin, on New Year’s Eve of all days? Sure, Abi’s incessant party planning was getting on her already frazzled nerves, but she’d just swapped one form of torture for another.

  The crowds grew even thicker as she neared the grey stone building. Rowdy cheers and enthusiastic conversations announced the revellers ready to see in the New Year. Weather be damned.

  As she pushed through the doors of the station, Phoenix held her breath against the stench of sweat and stale smoke, grateful her sense of smell was only slightly heightened, unlike some species of the Lore.

  Occasionally the telltale signature of another Supe tingled across her skin, making her gut clench. Some she recognised – vampire or the occasional fae – others were less familiar. None seemed to pay attention to her, but still her senses remained on high alert, waiting for a strange look or a finger pointed in her direction.

  The green digital clock glared at her from the notice board, as if she needed a reminder of just how late she was. This would be a great time to have teleportation powers, she thought as she jumped in line for the ticket turnstile.

  Not that she’d use them if she did.

  A sudden insistent buzzing against her hip made her stomach drop. Shit, please don’t be Abi.

  Inching along with the queue, Phoenix reached into the tight pocket of her leather trousers and pulled out her phone, preparing to apologise profusely. Relief flooded her when she looked at the screen to find Darius’s name flashing back.

  “Uncle D.” She covered her free ear in the slim hope of being able to hear the voice at the end of the phone.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time? I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

  Darius’s rich tone was warming in its familiarity, and Phoenix smiled. “No, you’re fine. I’m just trying to get home before Abi hands me my arse on a plate for being late to my own party.”

  “It’s nice that she wants to celebrate your birthday.”

  She gave a non-committal grunt. “Are we still good for dinner on Thursday?”

  “Of course. I’ve gotten us a reservation at the new Italian restaurant I mentioned. The table’s booked for nine.”

  Phoenix whistled low to herself. From what she’d heard, it was almost impossible to get a reservation at Bella’s. Even with Darius’s vast connections, it was impressive he’d managed.

  “Nine is good for me,” she said.

  “Perfect, I’ll send a car for you at –”

  “No, no, there’s no need. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Now, Phoenix, don’t be silly.”

  “Honestly, Uncle D. It’ll be easier if I meet you there. Look, I gotta go –”

  “Phoenix.” His softer tone stopped her in her tracks surer than any argument could. “How are you feeling? Really?”

  She paused for a second and debated lying, but this was Darius. He knew her too well. “I don’t really know … I don’t even know what I’m expecting to feel. Maybe nothing will even happen.”

  “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t bury your head in the sand.”

  Funny because that’s exactly what she planned on doing.

  As if reading her mind, Darius’s voice turned harder, the familiar impatience evident in his tone. “Your mother settled into her immortality at twenty-five. It stands to reason you will too.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “No, we don’t. With your unique nature we don’t know anything for sure, but ignoring it won’t make it go away either.”

  Her hand clenched around her phone and she closed her eyes against the pounding headache that was beginning to form.

  The crackling static of the intercom announced the arrival of her train.

  Her words were barely a whisper when she finally spoke. “My train’s here, Uncle D. I’ll see you on Thursday.” She hung up before he had a chance to respond.

  Lost in her thoughts, Phoenix hardly noticed the man-mountain barrelling towards her from the waiting train. He ploughed into her with a force so unexpected that in a blink she was on her arse on the cold ground, watching in shock as his back faded into the distance.

  Stunned, it took her a moment to notice the rough hand reaching out to her. She looke
d up into the rich, brown eyes of another man. His gaze was fixed intently on her, even as his body language was poised for pursuit.

  The supernatural energy that thrummed through him was enough to send sparks of electricity skittering across her skin. She backed away from the offered assistance and stumbled, not so gracefully, to her feet. The man regarded her with an odd expression and ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair.

  A sudden yell drew his attention in the direction the man-mountain had fled. And with a cheeky grin he was gone, leaving Phoenix staring at the empty space he’d been, heart racing.

  The pounding in her head grew stronger and for a moment, her vision blurred. She shook her head, trying to clear the strange mugginess, but her hands started to tremble and heat built in her right palm.

  Fear washed over her and she clenched her hand in a fist.

  Please don’t let me lose control. Not here.

  Her fae powers had become increasingly unpredictable of late; any form of stress acted as a potential trigger. With no control over her power and no one to ask, she clung to the only thing she knew how to do. With slow, controlled breaths, she pushed the energy deep down inside and locked it firmly away.

  Eventually the heat receded, and her heart slowed its frantic pace. The pounding headache, however, grew worse as she turned to see the train pull away from the platform, and a large crow with strange red eyes watching her from the electricity mast.

  The party was in full swing by the time Phoenix arrived at the pub, drenched to the bone and far past fashionably late. Music was blasting out of the old-style jukebox, thumping in time to her headache, while the band set up in the corner. The lights were low and the drinks were flowing freely. A comforting sense of home welcomed her as the door closed with a thud, shutting out the miserable night.

  A scan of the pub found Abi at her usual spot behind the bar. Phoenix made a beeline in her direction, more than prepared to grovel if necessary.

  “Abi, I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to be so late. I missed the train and …”

  Abi glared at her, hands on her hips, lips pursed.

  Phoenix’s heart dropped, and she said the only thing she could, “I’m sorry for being an ungrateful bitch.”

  Abi glared for a moment longer before her face finally softened. Her blue eyes sparkled with a hint of laughter as she took in Phoenix’s dishevelled appearance. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  Just like that, she was forgiven, and for the first time all day, she felt a bit lighter. Giving Abi a small smile, she slipped behind the bar and upstairs to the apartment they shared.

  The headache was just stress, she assured herself. Turning twenty-five wasn’t a big deal; Darius was overreacting. There was every chance she’d keep ageing as normal. She needed to get cleaned up and celebrate with her friend.

  Anyway, even if she did follow in her mother’s footsteps, it didn’t mean anything had to change … did it?

  ***

  “… Five, four, three, two, one!”

  Just as the clock struck midnight and the crowd around her cheered at the top of their lungs, the room began to swim and Phoenix’s vision blurred. A violent shudder ran down her spine and her hands gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles turning white.

  A mere second and the moment passed. Everything came back into sharp focus and Abi’s voice reverberated loudly in her ear.

  “Happy birthday!”

  Phoenix shook her head, trying to get her bearings. She returned Abi’s embrace and let her friend’s ever-contagious enthusiasm wash over her as she pushed back the sense of unease. It was just the drink, that’s all.

  One arm still locked around her waist, Abi swayed along with the crowd of people, singing a very out of tune “Auld Lang Syne”. Phoenix dutifully followed suit, but the niggle of unease refused to leave her.

  When the crowd broke into a rowdy rendition of “The Fields of Athenry”, Phoenix extricated herself from her friend’s grip and slipped away in search of a strong drink. She grabbed an empty glass and made her way to the bar to fetch a fresh bottle.

  You can’t have a celebration without rum. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? A celebration.

  Pouring a generous measure, she took a breath and knocked it back straight. She waited a moment, expecting the room to spin, or some sign the drink was going to her head.

  Nothing happened.

  Her vision didn’t blur, and the room didn’t spin. She tried another large gulp straight from the bottle.

  Nothing.

  With a sigh, she poured more rum into her glass and topped it with a wedge of lime. Who was she kidding? Her metabolism was far too accelerated for the alcohol to affect her. Maybe she was coming down with the flu. Sure, human diseases didn’t normally affect her, but it was possible. All these crazy super bugs going around, who knew?

  Clutching the glass, her free hand played with the platinum medallion hanging from her neck. The hard, embossed edges of the sun pressed into the palm of her hand. Her mother’s emblem. One of the only things she had left of her.

  She never thought of asking her mother what it would feel like when her immortality kicked in. She’d always assumed her parents would be with her when the time came.

  Her father had been in his thirties when he was turned. Sure, he had to die for it to happen, but who says her fae side would be more dominant anyway? Just because the fae reached their immortality at twenty-five, didn’t mean she would. Maybe she’d need to die before it happened, like her father. Hell, maybe a hybrid wouldn’t even become immortal at all …

  Looking around, she was filled with an over-whelming sense of gratitude for the life she’d built. Abi had saved her by giving her this job, a place to stay, and a way to escape the Lore. She couldn’t ever imagine leaving it behind. But how many years would she have before people noticed she wasn’t aging? How long would it take before Abi asked questions she couldn’t answer? How long before she would have to say goodbye?

  No sooner had the thought formed in her head than a shudder ran through her and her vision turned black. The glass slipped from her grasp and smashed to pieces on the tiled floor.

  “You don’t scream for me anymore.”

  Il Maestro pondered this, tilting his head as he looked at the frail figures curled up on the hard, stone floor. A chain made with thick iron links swung lazily in his left hand as he licked the blood from the fingers of his right.

  The smaller of the two forms tensed, no doubt waiting on the inevitable blow. The larger form remained still, unmoving, as it had for a long time now.

  “It’s started already, you know,” Il Maestro continued, pacing slowly around the small, dank cell, in no hurry to make use of the heavy chain. “I felt it as soon as the clock struck midnight. The shift.

  “All those years waiting patiently. It will be worth it when the prophecy is fulfilled and I take my rightful place at their side. We will hide in the shadows no more.”

  He stopped pacing and stared at the torches that lined the wall, their flames flickering hungrily in the dark.

  “At least she’ll know her life meant something in the end. That must make you proud.”

  Lifting his arm high, he let the chain fly and felt the satisfying crunch of bone beneath the iron.

  Again, his arm raised.

  “Let’s see if we can make you scream, shall we?”

  ***

  The tightness in his shoulders had eased significantly by the time he left the chamber. Blood splatter covered the front of his black Armani suit and he made a mental note to get it dry cleaned as he settled behind the large mahogany desk in his office and wiped his hands with the embroidered handkerchief.

  “You called for me, Il Maestro?”

  Il Maestro looked up at the vampire before him. Even compared to his own impressive height, Raphael was tall. The broad expanse of muscle only served to heighten his intimidating aura; a useful quality to have as head of security.

  “I want a full debri
efing on the status of all outstanding projects at midnight tonight.”

  “Yes, Il Maestro.” Raphael stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back, a not-so-subtle military air to his posture.

  “How are the new recruits coming along?”

  “The wolves are reacting well to the new formula. Their aggression has increased significantly but with fewer obedience issues.”

  Il Maestro nodded, pleased with this development. The mangy dogs had been the most difficult to control. As much as he enjoyed their viciousness – it took very little for them to tear each other’s throats out – discipline was paramount.

  “Good, it’s time we start escalating our preparations. We need to be ready.”

  He reached for the crystal decanter on his desk and poured a generous measure of the rich, golden liquid into a glass. “Arrange a meeting with the witches and get the newest batch of wolves ready for a field test.”

  With a swift nod, Raphael turned on his heel and left the office.

  The tingling anticipation was starting to build now that preparations were fully underway, but it was important he didn’t lose focus.

  The clock had finally begun its countdown.

  Wiping the bar counter absently, Phoenix considered the previous few days. There had been no more blackouts since New Year’s Eve, but a sense of dread still lingered insidiously with every waking thought. More than one customer had commented on her distraction, and Abi was regularly throwing concerned glances her way.

  Not being able to confide in her friend made it even harder. But what could she say? Oh hey, did I forget to mention I’m a vampire-fae hybrid? Don’t worry I don’t suck your blood while you sleep or anything, but I think I might be immortal now and I could really use a shoulder to cry on about all of it.

  Probably wouldn’t go down too well.

  Abi’s shout from above pulled her out of her imaginary conversation with a start. “Hey, Fifi, get your butt up here or I’m going to eat all the popcorn by myself.”