Night Passage Novel Novels & Stories

The night before we leave, the night before January the sixth, I learn two things: there are two kinds of hunger, and one can keep you up all night, staring at the ceiling and missing a place and people you are yet to leave. It is two O'Clock in the morning and disconcertingly quiet when I decide that I can't endure the trashing and turning. I take a book from the shelf that will no longer be mine by evening, purple hibiscus, with the cracks on its cover and Adichie's delighted face above its blurb, and I go to the sitting room that will not be ours by evening.

With her heart racing, Cassie nodded after hesitating and rushed to see how Ethan and Emma were doing. The chilly night air pricked Nicholas's skin as he went outside. The flashlight beam was the sole source of light that could be seen through the dense blackness. His heart stopped when he turned the corner. The phrases were written in red paint on the cabin wall: "This is not the end of it."

He thought about how often he’d eaten standing up, how many nights had blurred together under artificial light. This wasn’t where he’d planned to be tonight. But as he lay back and stared at the ceiling, he admitted something to himself that he rarely allowed space for. Maybe staying wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe being taken care of, just for a night, didn’t make him weak. Downstairs, his aunt turned off the lights one by one, satisfied and the house felt alive again. The last thing on his mind was Cassia’s smile, but he brushed it off. And for the first time in a long while, Nicholas fell asleep knowing he wouldn’t wake up alone.

On the cupboard, Nick and Rachel kept smiling, frame angled a hair further toward the mantel as if memory itself wanted a better view of the war. They muscled the boxes to the ute. On the ridge road, Gabe stole a last look at the reef. The slick circle out beyond convulsed and collapsed. Phosphorescence pulsed where the temple slept—a gate beating like a heart. Far along the blue line south, something vast cut toward Sydney. The newspaper lay open on the dash, that bad still of a city’s worst night: werewolves on taxis, winged shapes over the Quay, a blade of light on the steps.

ATHENA'S POV The night wrapped around me like a velvet cloak. Every corridor echoed with the hushed whispers of the night, and the moonlight spilled through the windows, casting ethereal shadows on the walls. Each breath I took seemed amplified, a bundle of nerves and anticipation as I navigated the quiet passages. Upon reaching my room, I gingerly closed the door. The darkness within felt like a conspirator, concealing my late-night venture. My hand fumbled for the light switch, but before I could illuminate the room, a voice emerged from the shadows, shattering the illusion of solitude.

Not wanting to cry and ruin my day even more. I should try to sleep. It was almost two in the morning, and tomorrow I had to meet with Joe. I hesitated about removing the nightgown, then decided to sleep in it. After all, it was unlikely that I would ever wear it again. I turned off the lights except for those by my bedside, poked the crackling fire, then decided to leave it ablaze for the extra warmth it provided. I climbed into bed and knew I would never sleep, not tonight. There was a novel on my bedside table, a gift from Michael. I was about to reach for it when something caught my eye, and I stared at the balcony doors facing my bed. For a second I had thought the knob on the door had

A loud motorcycle sped past us suddenly and that ruined the moment instantly. “We should go,” I muttered quickly, stepping back quickly. Zane looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t and just nodded instead… We got back to the hotel, had our showers and went straight to bed. But then, I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept replaying everything. The almost kiss, the way he looked at me, the things he admitted… I kept tossing from side to side before finally giving up and getting water. The room was dark so I didn’t even know Zane wasn’t in bed until I heard his voice from the balcony area.

Chapter 51: The Longest Night My fingers trembled as I clutched the sealed letter Lucian had pressed into my hand before walking out the door. The thick cream paper, embossed with his personal seal, felt like both a lifeline and a death sentence. The grandfather clock in the foyer ticked mercilessly, each second stretching into eternity. It was just past midnight, and the estate felt like a tomb without him.

I hated how it made me think of the hotel room, of that night, of the stranger who had burned his way into my memory. “Snap out of it, Cassie,” I muttered. “It was just one reckless night.” Downstairs, the ballroom was already buzzing with laughter and champagne glasses clinking. The stares I drew were sharp, but I ignored them all and slipped out into the garden. The moonlight was greater company than the crowd inside. I stared at the moon. Always there. Always fulfilling its purpose. Unlike me stumbling, failing, suffocating in my own skin. I stayed until footsteps rustled the grass behind me. My mother’s voice cut through the night. “There you are. I want you to meet someone.”

She holds out her hands. “The energy is all wrong.” Kristy shudders and we wait for the light to change before crossing. The bar is closed, of course, and we walk down the sidewalk in front of it. I slow when I come to the spot where the man with the bright blue eyes stood. I know I had my fair share to drink last night, but I was sobering up by the time I saw him. So why are my memories getting hazy? “There’s the camera.” Nicole looks at it but doesn’t point. Naomi takes her hand and together they use magic to cloud the lens, preventing it from recording us walking through the alley.