Free At the Stroke of Midnight by Lanette Curington

Lanette Curington
    "Only because I was voted chairperson. It belongs to the entire committee." Olivia
    brushed Margot's hands away and lifted the bowl, hugging it close to keep it safe. "I'll get
    the punch."
    "Are you sure you can manage, Liv?" Margot asked with a raised eyebrow.
    "I'm fine," she said stiffly and turned, but her leg began to throb.
    At that moment, out of nowhere, a cowled figure in black satin appeared in her
    path. Awkwardly, she stepped to the side to avoid a collision. As her leg twisted beneath
    her, sharp pain raced up through her knee and thigh. She bumped into him anyway, the
    punch bowl slipping from her hands as she concentrated on regaining her balance.
    Pale, slender fingers emerged from a voluminous sleeve and grasped the edge of
    the bowl to keep it from falling.
    Olivia sighed as the pain subsided, returning to a steady throb. Her hands touched
    his briefly as she found a better grip on the bowl, and a shiver coursed through her body.
    She wasn't sure what caused the response. Why should the sight or touch of the Grim
    Reaper unnerve her? This was a Halloween, masked ball, after all.
    "Thank you." She squinted, peering into the depths of his cowl. An emaciated
    face, half-hidden by a domino, stared back at her, gray eyes glowing silver through the
    holes in the mask. A trick of the light, she decided uncomfortably.
    He was the same Reaper she had seen several times during the evening. Of
    course, there were perhaps half a dozen Reapers altogether. While the others danced and
    mingled and engaged in conversation, this Reaper had always been alone. His black satin
    costume seemed more authentic than the others.
    Authentic. The word amused her, as if the Grim Reaper were an actual entity.
    During the evening, every time she'd seen him, something tugged at her memory.
    He seemed so familiar to her, then she lost whatever recollection tried to surface.
    Probably someone she had gone to school with. "Do I know you?"
    He nodded, thin ashen lips curving into a sad smile.
    "I'm sorry...I don't recognize you, yet I almost do." Even as she spoke the words,
    she knew they made no sense.
    "Is that not the purpose of a masquerade ball?" His voice sounded hollow, as if it
    emanated from a dark cave.
    Olivia laughed at his observation and to dispel the strange moment. "You're right,
    of course. Perhaps I'll remember later. Excuse me."
    8

AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT
    Slowly, carefully, Olivia limped toward the kitchen, conscious of every step. She
    hugged the inner wall to avoid the crush of people. She didn't need to be jostled again. At
    last, she entered the screen room, its original purpose to hold food before serving. She
    opened the door to the kitchen, cringing as the rusty hinges squealed in protest. Among
    the millions of things they had listed to get ready for tonight, they'd forgotten to oil the
    doors.
    She set the bowl down and gripped the edge of the table. Fortunately, the dull
    throb hadn't grown worse. If she could rest a while, then she was very careful the
    remainder of the evening--and with a good bit of luck--she wouldn't have to resort to
    taking painkillers. She untied her white half-mask and let it fall to the tabletop.
    The door screeched, sounding like an animal in its death throes, and a familiar
    voice called to her. "Hey, Liv, you okay?"
    She glanced over her shoulder as a Red Devil abandoned a serving cart and
    hurried to her side. Davy Wilson was another member of the Save-the-Castle-Committee
    and one of Olivia's best friends. Davy had stayed by her side throughout the years after
    the accident. He'd carried her books from class to class when she still used crutches. Most
    everyone had treated her like a freak or leper except Davy--and Margot, when it suited
    her.
    Olivia smiled at him fondly. "I think so. I turned my leg on the way to refill the
    punch bowl. The pain's fading now--"
    "Here." Davy hurried to her side, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. "Sit down
    and I'll take