Hunting Midnight

me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I could feel my heartbeat swaying me. My breaths came like wind across stones.

Turning from me, he drew the fumes deep into his chest in a single continuous stream that vanished somewhere deep inside him. I imagined it forming a swirling mist in his gut.

“Now we shall hunt Hyena,” he said, placing his pipe down on the table by the head of my bed.

“Do I have to?”

“I will not abandon you, John. Your friend Midnight will always fight alongside you.” He smiled. “Come. We shall find Hyena and tell him that he must leave.”

He led me through my doorway by the light of his candle and together we climbed the stairs. The door to the Lookout Tower was shut. I closed my eyes to try to calm myself. Time seemed to have come to a halt.

“Must we go in?” I asked.

“Yes. I came up here today to prepare the room for our hunt. It has to be now. We must face him like Bushmen and tell him that we know who he is and that he is an impostor. We must show him that we are lions and will devour him if he stays. And the time is now — that is why he appeared to you. When we go inside, all you are to say to him is, ‘I know who you are; you are Hyena.’ Nothing else. Nothing! He is a trickster. He is clever-clever. He will find your weakness if you say anything else. You understand, John?”

“I think so.”

Midnight reached for the handle.

“Wait!” I cried, but it was too late.

The door swung open. Daniel stood before us in his horned mask.

“We saw you from afar and are dying of hunger,” Midnight said to Daniel.

The African eased the door closed behind us. He placed his candle on the ground, then shook his rattle at the lad and said, “We know who you are; you are Hyena.”

Midnight’s eyes opened wide. A low rumbling commenced in his gut and increased in volume to a drumming sound so loud it shook the walls.

Daniel removed his mask. Pale and swollen, his skin looked as though it might drop off in clumps. He beseeched me to stop the Bushman from drumming. “Why have you betrayed me again?” he moaned.

I was tempted to plead for his forgiveness, but when Midnight squeezed my hand, I spoke as instructed: “I know who you are. You are Hyena.”

Midnight handed me his rattle and told me to toss it at Daniel’s chest, but I hesitated. When the lad took a step toward me, the African shouted, “Hit him with it! Throw it now, John!”

I tossed it at him. It hit against his shoulder and fell to the ground. But it changed its form as it fell to become a dark mantis, head proudly erect, arms raised in the air as though ready for attack.

Slowly, it began to crawl toward Midnight.

Daniel reached out to me in fright.

“Do not touch him!” Midnight warned me.

I repeated, “I know who you are. You are Hyena.”

Daniel lunged, and I jumped back. Midnight moved in between us, his back to Daniel. I could no longer see the lad, but I could hear him pounding his fists against the African’s back.

A great knot the size of my fist began to form at the midpoint of Midnight’s gut — at his center, so to speak — bobbing in and out, the focal point of his inner drumming.

The Bushman raised both his arms in the air and began to stamp his feet. Whipping round to face Daniel, he ceased his drumming. The Lookout Tower was alone at the center of the world.

The African leaned back and inhaled quickly. A low growl emanated from his chest, growing in intensity until the air itself seemed to vibrate. The smoke that he had stored in his gut spiraled from his mouth and rose to the skylight in a swirling ribbon. “Growl,” he ordered.

I did as he said. Our two voices rooted me to the spot. After a few seconds, Midnight roared with such animal ferocity and violence that he might have split the room in two.

It did not occur to me that Midnight must have woken the entire neighborhood until my father rushed into the room wearing a terrified expression.

Papa glanced between Midnight and myself with a startled expression, since we were both as naked as the day we emerged into this world. He demanded to know what in Robert the Bruce we were doing in the Lookout Tower at this ungodly hour and, additionally, without a single thread of clothing to cover our manhood. “I hope you two have a proper explanation,” he warned, his voice threateningly deep.

“We are very, very much better now,” the African declared. “We have chased Hyena away. Hyena is always afraid of Lion.” He twirled the rattle. “And little Mantis told him that he was never to return to us. He will never bother your son again.”

*

“The Bogle is gone,” I said to Papa. Bogle was a Scots word for ghost.

“You nearly frightened me to death!” he cried as Mama appeared in the doorway, clutching a poker.

She gasped at our nakedness, then looked me hard and long in the eyes. I was sure I’d be punished, but instead she laughed as though Midnight and I were the funniest thing she’d ever seen. Then, through a process of transformation known only to the heart, she wept.

“There, there, May,” Papa said, kissing her brow. “Everything is fine now.”

Finally, she dried her eyes. “I am so sorry. You must all think me such a fool.”

We all assured her of the contrary, Papa adding rather charmingly that he would be eternally wed to such a fool with the greatest of happiness. Though her hair was a mess and her eyes red, I found Mama incomparably beautiful at that moment.

When she’d calmed down, she begged me to put on some clothing. “You can come back to bed with us tonight if you like,” she added.

“No, Mama, I should like to return to my room, if you don’t mind.”

“You would prefer that?” Papa asked, plainly surprised.

“Yes, if Midnight may be allowed to stay with me.”

“Of course,” Mama said, smiling at our guest, who was grinning infectiously from ear to ear.

She then surprised me by grasping Midnight’s hand and saying, “I sincerely hope that you will stay with us for quite some time. If you still desire a place in our home, we shall fix the Lookout Tower for you to use as your own apartment. That is, should you forgive my previous rudeness.”

Tears filled Midnight’s eyes. “Yes, that would be very, very good indeed.”

Clasping his hand to her cheek, she added, “Thank you for returning John to me. I shall never forget your kindness. You will always be able to depend on me as though I were one of your people.”

Papa thanked Midnight as well and kissed Mama many times. Then he hoisted me up over his shoulder and carried me downstairs, tickling me, pretending he’d caught a young monster of the loch, a kelpie. I was howling for him to stop, but he was merciless in his affection. Behind us, Mama was talking in hushed tones to Midnight, as though they had been intimate friends for ages.

Once I had been swung into bed, Papa ruffled my hair and said, “Now sleep. Enough of this excitement.” He raised his fists. “No more lions, hyenas, mantises, or anything else.”

“No,” I agreed.

“Good night, Midnight,” Papa said to our guest. “And thank you.”

“Good night, Mr. Stewart,” the African replied with a wave.

When my parents had gone, and long after Midnight was asleep, I remained awake, staring at his dark head, believing I could hear an almost imperceptible drumming coming from a strange landscape deep inside him.

XIII

I awoke in the morning and discovered — to my disappointment — that Midnight had already left with my father. After breakfast, I took Fanny for a walk, having neglected her for weeks. At the wharf that day, I discovered