Midnight Café Novels & Stories

Olivia’s POV Evening came quickly, and I got dressed and hurried to the café. It was a few minutes to 7:00 pm, and so many people were already waiting to get drinks in the café. It wasn't a particularly fancy café, but the roof was a beautiful skylight, and it let in the full moon's elegant glow, making everything look magical. I continued taking orders and refilling drinks as the evening crept on and the moon rose higher into the sky.

----------- ----------- The next day . . . ------------ ----------- Jane awoke with a start but noticed the pain was less than the day before. She opened her eyes and took a look around. She seemed to be in some old, long building, but there was no natural light. It looked like a subway station, but one that hadn't been used in a long time. "This particular station was buried back in the fifties, and the city never thought it would be cost-effective to excavate it," said Arthur, who was sitting nearby. "We diverted some power lines and water pipes down here and voila! Instant home-sweet-home!"

She stretched, arching her back like a cat in the sun, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. Then she saw it. Resting on the pillow where his head should have been was a small, square piece of heavy cream cardstock. She picked it up, her fingers trembling just enough to make the paper rattle. Tonight at midnight. Roof garden. Wear nothing but the silk robe I left you. — M The rest of the day was a total wash.

Third POV The café sat tucked between two brownstones on a quiet side street in the West Village, the kind of place that charged eighteen dollars for a flat white and still managed to feel cozy instead of pretentious. Exposed brick walls, mismatched wooden chairs, soft jazz floating from invisible speakers. Late-morning light poured through the tall windows, catching on the copper espresso machine behind the counter and turning everything golden. Irene Murray arrived first. She wore a cream cashmere sweater over slim black trousers, hair loose in soft waves that caught the sun like spun honey.

“Give it time.” The café nestled against the riverbank where the morning light filtered through tall windows. It was was old money trying to look new: polished concrete floors, high ceilings that someone had tastefully painted matte black, and a counter lined with glass domes of pastries neatly arranged. Classical music played just loud enough to mask conversation. Cups clinked softly. Chairs scraped against the floor in muted rhythms. That was probably why he picked it. The leather-bound menu offered multiple coffee blends, French toast topped with seasonal fruit, and eggs Benedict listed in three different variations.

I shook my head, too confused to speak. “Because the last time a lunar eclipse appeared here, something extraordinary happened. A bond formed between two wolves, marked by the moon herself. We call it "Midnight's Mark". It has not appeared in one hundred and twenty-three years. Most think it’s legend, but I saw it when I was young.” My mouth felt dry. “What kind of bond?” “The truest kind, a mate bond chosen by the Moon Goddess herself, marked on the skin at the eclipse’s peak. Those who bear it are destined for each other, their souls matched perfectly. Such bonds appear only when the pack needs them most.”

Seraphina Café Sprüngli is famous for its chocolates and pastries. A Zurich institution since 1836. We arrive fifteen minutes early and get a table near the back. Two o’clock comes and goes. Two fifteen. Two thirty. “She’s not coming,” Dominic says. “She’ll come. She wants this. Wants to see us desperate.” Two forty-five. Three o’clock. The waitress has refilled our coffee three times. People come and go. We sit there like fools, waiting.

A breath of relief escaped my lips as I flicked on the small light. I couldn't sleep and decided to come to the sitting room. I struggled until I reached the TV and put it on, a rush of relief flooded through me. The cool, bright light dispelled the shadows of the dark sitting room, revealing the nearest couch. "Finally!" I whispered, grinning as I picked up the remote and navigated until I got to a station I liked. I sat on the couch watching the TV and the scenes were that of nude men and women. I imagined Liam coming to the sitting room to meet me and trying to get his fingers through my night dress. I shrugged my shoulders,

I whispered. We stopped at a red light. My gaze caught on a billboard the size of a building. It shimmered, transitioned—and suddenly, the word blazed across the screen in white fire: LUNARIS. A high-end nightclub. The most elite. The kind only the rich, powerful, and probably criminal could enter. Even back downtown, Lunaris was a fantasy, the kind of place people dreamed of making enough money just to glimpse. The ad shifted. And then his face appeared.

I mumbled, immediately felt a twinge of embarrassment over the fact that I was so close to slamming the door in his face. Though, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. I noticed him looking at the food ready on the table. I was just a couple bowls of Chinese noodle soup and a platter of deshelled chili crabs, the best dish from Singapore, and a few other bite-sized delicacies which I am sure we both couldn’t finish. There wasn’t any candlelight set up, or petals of roses scattered on the place. It’s only a simple dinner with a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne set inside the glass bucket of ice.