Abarat: Absolute Midnight

“That’s probably because I’m still here gabbing. I should leave you to give birth to Boa.”

The image Laguna Munn’s words conjured was grotesque. It made Candy feel sicker than ever.

“It’s too late to feel queasy now, girl. This is dirty magic we’re doing. It’s not the kind of work sanctioned by the Council of the Yebba Dim Day. If it was, you wouldn’t be here. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Candy said.

She understood perfectly well. It was the same in Chickentown. There was a Dr. Pimloft whose offices were above the Laundromat on Fairkettle Street. He’d do certain operations people were too embarrassed to talk to their regular doctors about. Sometimes that was your only choice.

“I’m going to get out of here,” Laguna said, “before I throw the conjuration off balance.”

“Where will you be? In case there’s a problem?”

“It’ll be fine,” Mrs. Munn said. “You want to be separated, after all. So . . . here comes the conjuration. I designed it to do what you require. So let it do its job.”

There was a sound like someone chopping with axes from behind Mrs. Munn, and a shadow-bird—or something like it—rose from the darkness and flew in and out through the intricate pattern, wall to wall to wall to wall, before disappearing into the darkness behind Mrs. Munn.

“What was that?” Candy said.

“The chamber is getting impatient,” she said. “It wants me gone.”

The phenomena occurred again, exactly as before.

“I should go,” Laguna Munn said. “Before this gets any worse.”

Candy suddenly felt weak and her legs buckled beneath her. She tried to make her legs respond to her instruction, but she realized she was no longer the mistress of her body. Boa was.

“Wait . . .” Candy started to say, panic rising in her chest. But even her tongue wouldn’t do as she instructed. And it was almost too late. Laguna Munn had turned her back on Candy, preparing to leave.

It’s over now, the Princess said.

Candy didn’t waste energy trying to reply. She was seconds away from losing herself forever. She could feel rhythmical thundering that no doubt Boa had set to work. It was eating at the corners of her world, consuming her consciousness with ever-larger bites.

Through a haze of white noise she saw Laguna Munn open up a door in the wall.

No. Candy tried to say. But no sound came out.

This would be a lot easier if you just gave up and gave in. Let go of Candy Quackenbush. You’re going to die. And you won’t want to be alive when I start feeding.

What? Candy thought. Feeding off me? Why?

Because I’ve got to grow myself a body, girl. That requires nourishment. A lot of nourishment. Did I forget to mention that?

Candy wanted to weep at her own stupidity. Boa must have shaped these plans no more than a few thoughts away from where Candy had been hiding her own thinking. But she’d hidden her intentions totally. There hadn’t been a moment when Candy had been suspicious.

But you know now, Boa gloated. If it helps, think of this as punishment for stealing my memories of magic. I know death may seem a very strong punishment, but it was a terrible thing you did.

I’m . . . I’m . . . sorry?

Too late. It’s over. It’s time you died, Candy.

Chapter 12

One Becomes Two

FAR OFF, SOMEWHERE IN the darkness, Candy Quackenbush thought she heard the sound of Laguna Munn’s voice.

“Covenantis? Did you lock the chamber? The lock, boy!”

There was no answer from the child. All Candy heard was the chorus of strange noises her dying body was making. Her heart hadn’t stopped entirely. Every few seconds it still managed to beat; on occasion it even managed two or three beats strung together. But what little life her body still possessed was more like a memory than the real thing: like a vision of the Abarat even as it slipped away. All gone now. All forgotten.

No, not entirely forgotten. Some portion of her eyes’ ability to form images still existed. Though she could no longer see the walls of the Separation Chamber, she could see, with eerie specificity, a stain of smoky gray air appearing in front of her face. She knew its source. It was coming from her own body.

It was Boa’s soul she was looking at. At least the haunted shadow of it, finally liberated from the cell into which the women of the Fantomaya had put it. Freed from Candy. And now gaining strength.

It was pushing itself, spreading itself, extruding rudimentary legs from its torso, and something that had the potential to become arms, while from the top a single thread of gray matter sprouted. From this fragile stalk, two leaves had formed and on them, the undeveloped shape of a mouth and nose. And above the leaves, two white, slim petals grew, each with bursts of blue and black upon them, as if blessed with sight.

It was a simple illusion, but it quickly gained credibility as new stalks sprayed upward in their dozens, forming intricate laceries of vein and nerve that began to conjure to shape of their possessor’s face. Though it was still little more than a skinless mask knitted of pulsing threads, there was a glimpse, even there, of the young woman who would soon come into being. She would be beautiful again, Candy thought. She would break hearts.

Candy hadn’t lifted herself up off the ground since her knees had buckled beneath her. She still knelt in the same spot, watching the vestigial form of Princess Boa attract to it the detritus of the life-forms shed by the chamber walls: withered flower housings, leaves, living and dead, all adding their sum to the patchwork that was slowly giving the Princess more substance. The surrounding flora and fauna were nourishing Boa’s body, and it was by their sacrifice alone that Candy’s life had been spared. But the process was going too slowly.

Candy could sense Boa’s frustration as she received these pitifully inadequate contributions to the body she was trying to grow again.

She opened her lips, and though her throat and tongue were unfinished, she managed to speak. It was light, more than a quiet whisper, but Candy heard it plainly.

“You look . . . nourishing . . .” she said.

“I’d make bad eating right now. You should find something healthier.”

“Hunger is hunger. And time is of the essence. . . .”

This time Candy forced her throat to form the question, though it was barely audible.

“Why is that exactly?” she said.

“Midnight,” Boa said simply. “It’s almost upon us. You don’t feel it, do you?”

“Midnight?”

“Midnight! I can feel it. The last darkness is coming, and it will blot out every light in the heavens.”

“No . . .”

“Saying no will change nothing. The Abarat is going to die in the dark. Every sun will be eclipsed, every moon blinded, every star in every constellation extinguished like a candle flame. But don’t worry. You won’t be here to suffer the consequences. You’ll be gone.”

“Where?”

“Who knows? Who’ll care? Nobody. You will have served your purpose. You had sixteen years of life, going places you would never have gone if you hadn’t had me hidden inside you. You have nothing to complain about. Now your life ends. And mine begins. There’s something quite pleasing about the balance, isn’t there?”

“I’m not done living . . .” Candy murmured.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Boa said, mocking Candy’s gravity.

“You don’t . . . understand,” Candy said.

“Trust me. There’s nothing you know that I don’t.”

“You’re wrong,” Candy said. Her voice was gaining strength as she drew upon the clarity Laguna Munn’s gift had given her. “I know how you played Carrion along all those years, making him think you loved him, when all you