Petunia Midnight Madness Novels & Stories

“This look? Straight from a boutique in SoHo. Very ‘underground king,’ right?” “You look like a highlighter that’s lost its mind,” I groan, rubbing my temples. “And what is that smell? Are you wearing cologne or did you bathe in gasoline?” “It’s called ‘Midnight Vengeance.’ Limited release. The ladies love the musk.” “The ladies are going to think you’re a fire hazard,” I retort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Face it, Julian. You’ve been swindled. Again.” Julian scoffs, shrugging me off. “We’ll see. I’ll have a different girl on each arm by midnight. I’m surprised you aren’t already inside. The line is around the block for the opening of the Vesuvius Room tonight.”

As I prepared to close the diary, my hand brushed against the object I had found that morning near the fountain. The Midnight Rose. Its petals were a deep, velvety black that shimmered with an iridescent purple in the dark. It was a rare flower, one that only grew in places saturated with ancient, high-tier magic. I didn't know who had left it or if it was a warning or a gift.