Thirteen Isn't Just A Lucky Number

Disclaimer: Am I Scott Westerfeld? No. So do I own anything in the Midnighters Trilogy? No. Glad to know the transitive property works in literature.

Author's Note: Thanks to charmed-freak292 for the reviews. I know it has been a bit since I updated this story, but I assure all of you that I have not forgotten about it. Enjoy! (The bold and italics indicate writing.)

Ch. 3:

Soon after Melissa woke up, Jess and Jonathan returned. They both were so relieved that Melissa was alright that Dess thought she would die of a happiness overdose.

"Can we please get started with this meeting? I really need to get more steel pronto," Dess said. "Or, if you all have a death wish, we can all just keep being happy for the rest of the day."

"Okay, Dess, we get it," said Jonathan. "Your sarcasm can cut slithers."

"Nope, only 'Sarcastically' can."

Jonathan grinned at Dess's retort, but he soon stopped after he saw Rex's glare. They all arranged themselves in a circle and a few moments of silence passed between them. Who bets Rex is going to start? I do.

"Well," said Rex, "the first thing is to find out why the darklings are becoming more aggressive in the blue time." Who's right? I'm so right. Twenty bucks to Dess, please.

Jonathan responded first. "Perhaps they're bored and want to take us on for something to do. Hell, if I was around for thousands of years stuck in the blue time, I'd get pretty bored myself."

"I don't think you're right, Jonathan," said Jess. Everyone focused their attention on her. "Remember when I first came here and the darklings started attacking everyone more often? And in places where they never would go before? I think we have a new Midnighter on our hands and the darklings don't like it one bit."

"I think Jess is right," said Dess. "I mean, Melissa just went all unconscious and different-voice-y. That says something right there. Perhaps that new Midnighter somehow managed to contact the nearest Midnighter for help?"

"Perhaps, Dess, but remember, whoever contacted Melissa has very little knowledge of the blue time or of other Midnighters. She, based on the sound of the voice, referred to the darklings as 'scary things.' Who is to say that she knows who Midnighters are?" Rex paused. "We better find her fast, especially since she said that the darklings are after her."

"I agree," said Melissa. "If she wasn't that desperate for help, why would she have contacted us, even if she didn't do so on purpose? Her fear and confusion might have been so great that she contacted us with knowing it. We better go find her."

"Okay, it's settled, then." Rex stood up. "We will meet back here fifteen minutes before the blue time and have Melissa cast for another Midnighter. Meeting dismissed." Rex helped Melissa, who was still a little shaky, to her car while Jess and Jonathan started walking off to her house. I absolutely love how I am the fifth wheel here. Dess jogged back to her bike. Better get that steel. It's already 1:30. Dess swung her leg over her bike and started pedaling like a monster slither was after her. After about twenty minutes of pedaling (which actually felt like an eternity to Dess, who didn't exactly have a ton of patience), Dess reached the dump.

She left her bike discreetly by a clump of bushes. Okay, Dess, you know what to do. She slunk around the outer fence, double-triple-quadruple-and-quintupled checked for anyone who could see her, and then deftly climbed up the fence and over the other side. Dess started rummaging through the first pile. Ewwww, I could really use gloves for this. And then, like magic, two gloves appeared by her side. Dess stopped, stunned. Whoa, that's cool. Now I could use an ax to cut any huge piece of metal and a chisel to carve the protective runes. Then, again like magic, a gleaming ax and chisel were by her left foot. Okay, this is getting to be a little freaky right now. How did all of this suddenly appear right here? Suddenly, she thought she saw a flash of a black coat out of the corner of her eyes. A black coat? Who in their right mind would wear a black coat in the SUMMER? He or she must really want a heat stroke. Putting the two incidents out of her mind as best she could, Dess continued fumbling through the pile of refuse for the next two hours.

After digging through some really horrible, smelly stuff, Dess finally was satisfied with her haul. Okay, let's see, I got three hubcaps, twenty Campbell's Soup cans, about sixty nails, two C-clamps, and four saw blades. Plus I even get some fiber optic strands and a platinum ring, which will totally kick ass with a thirty-nine-letter name. And the saw blades will put some more bite into those slithers. That's pretty good, considering I was in a rush. Dess then realized that she didn't have a bag to carry them home. Shit! I wish I brought one of those heavy-duty trash bags we have at home. Then, again, a trash bag just like the one she had imagined was before her feet.

Dess began getting a creepy-crawly feeling that was inching up her spine. This is getting very weird very fast. There is no way in hell that three things that I wished for would turn up in the next minute. The probability of that is so small that I am not even going to bother to calculate it. Something's wrong and I better go tell the others now. She hastily put all her things into the garbage bag, heaved it over the fence, and then got herself over as well. As she dropped to the ground, she thought she saw a face out of the corner of her mind. She lifted her head up and saw two black eyes staring back.

Dess was surprised she didn't have a coronary from the shock. The boy – judging from his face, he looked to be about 17 or 18 years old – had a neutral expression on his face. His black hair was shaggy and falling in his face. He had a lip ring off to the left corner of his mouth. He wasn't very tan, but he wasn't pale as a ghost, a characteristic that all the Midnighters except Jess had. His eyes never left Dess's frightened ones.

Dess was frantically trying to figure whether he was hostile or friendly. Well, if he is friendly, he has an odd way of showing it. Suddenly, she glanced at something on his neck. A tattoo, I bet. After she shifted her eyes slightly to get a better look, they widened as she saw what the tattoo was: a 12, in bold ink on his neck.

Holy God, is he going to kill me? Dess was so scared that she couldn't even think straight. Suddenly, the teenager rose and was gone in the blink of an eye. What the – how did he do that? Then she looked down again and saw something that she will never forget in her life.

Hello, Midnighter. I've been waiting for you.

Author's PS- Good? I hope so. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.