The cottage was nestled within a stand of wild ginkgo trees. If not for the shiny SUV parked in a paved driveway, the house with its intricate timber and bamboo framework and overhanging tiled roof could have been part of a landscape watercolour from centuries past.

The earthen hues along with the fresh, cool smell of rain were quite the soothing contrast to the scorched air of sterile steel and concrete Midnight had just come from. Delicate wind chimes and the gentle patter of the raindrops upon the fronds and lotus blooms in a garden pool added to the calming atmosphere of the place. How very much like the Fourth Hour. She had always been the most serene of them all. A morning hour who welcomed the earliest rays of twilight, capturing the ethereal gleam that shone before a sunrise. An aesthetic of nature, she was.

Midnight slipped off the brown leather jacket and let it flump to the ground. He then shook out the hot dregs of coffee from the takeout cup he held over it --a double espresso he had brewed for himself at the Second Hour's café. "Roast this", he muttered, eyeing the wisps of steam evaporating much how Second's form had.

Sitting outside Second's Parisien coffee house at 2 AM had not been the grand people watching experience Midnight had expected, unless nightclubbing passersby counted. A disappointed Midnight could only conclude it was a little too early --by either a few hours or a few decades-- for him to have a chance to debate philosophy with any café-frequenting members of the intelligentsia, such as they were amongst humans. Although a passing drunkard had waxed philosophical. The happily swaying man had seemed to take pity on Midnight who sat there on the terrace alone in the dark with his espresso and Second's mantel Clock on the table beside him.

"Do not despair, mon ami! There will always be a new day to come, non?"

"Non," Midnight had replied, snapping his gloved fingers, the cafe going up in a fireball. The mantel clock went up next. Then Midnight himself, for dramatic effect.

The Third Hour's glass highrise penthouse in Dubai had commanded a panoramic view of the night skyline. And for the eternal life of him, Midnight couldn't understand. The Circle afforded the best celestial views of the Earth of all. Why descend here to claim a lesser one?

"If you so badly wanted to abase yourself, then let me help you," Midnight had said as he dragged the struggling Hour by the throat towards one of the window walls. Mmm, perhaps the entire bottle of whiskey he'd allowed himself to indulge in at First's place had gone too much to his head.

On the ledge framed by jagged edges of blown out glass, Midnight had sipped his coffee while he watched the Third Hour fall in twists and turns, buffeted by the high altitude winds until his form changed to silver mist which vanished before striking the neon lit ground so far, far, far below. The broken discs of Third's brass astrolabe Clock followed shortly thereafter. Flung like frisbees after him.

Midnight threw the empty cup into the pool as he walked by. It spun and bobbed between the lotuses as koi converged on it in a frenzy of gaping mouths. Thrashing tailfins of red, orange, white, and gold agitated the waters for several moments before the creatures realized the now sunken cup was not food. Midnight adjusted his cravate, swishing the tip of his cane in the water to clear it of grime.

The fish never approached.

_____

The incense and candle flames flickered as she slid the window closed. Not that she minded the night breeze but the gusts could interfere with the recording.

Pushing aside the skirt of her silk robe, Chao Xing settled back down on her bench. Slender fingers poised over the strings of the zither, she frowned. Strange... She couldn't remember at which string she'd left off when tuning. A few rapid plucks revealed it to be the yu. She quickly finished the rest.

Chao Xing tapped the mic with her finger to test it before sliding her fingers along the zither's shang string in a firm upward glide. The glissando evoking a swan calling water...

Her next performance was in ten days. She'd been invited to play for the Shanghai Conservatory of Music's annual arts festival. The guqin was an instrument she'd played for many a century now. So sublime and delicate were its sounds, evoking nature and time. Seeped in myth and legend in a sense, just as she was.

The Fourth Hour glanced over at her Clock upon the rosewood table. Dripping water made its cogwheel turn. It was fifteen minutes before four, soon to be her watch.

The wind picked up outside. The chimes hanging by her front door tinkled louder. Maybe she should have stayed at the studio to record her pieces, soundproof as it was. But for some reason she headed straight home after teaching her late music class this night. The after midnight text she'd gotten from a student confirming their session the following afternoon had strangely unsettled her. She'd forgotten she'd booked a private lesson with the student. Chao Xing shook her head. She must be distracted by the upcoming ceremony. How else to explain it? She'd never forgotten an appointment before.

Fingers poised once again, the Fourth Hour looked up. The chimes. She couldn't hear them any longer, yet the soughing of the wind continued through the tree branches. Had the chimes come detached? She would have heard them strike the veranda, no? Clicking off the mic with a sigh, she rose, then stopped. A cold draft blew past her at the swish of the outside sliding door opening.

Someone had entered the house.

Annoyance rose. She'd heard about a rash of break-ins in the area. Hoodlums looking to score easy cash by stealing artworks.

Why don't I offer them one?

Fourth reached for the antique jian sword mounted on the wall, one whose blade was as sharp as it had been the day she'd acquired it during the Song Dynasty. Not that she needed to defend herself against some mortal thief. But perhaps slicing through some layers of clothing and scoring some flesh would teach whoever it was a lesson and stop them from doing it again.

A silent Chao Xing watched the tall figure silhouetted behind the rice paper screened wall approach the doorway. Slowly she raised the sword close to her face, aiming the blade forward. Slowly, slowly...

??

"Midnight?!"

"Hello, my dear. It has been a while, hasn't it, Fourth? Oh, pardon me, Chao Xing." Midnight read off the characters of her assumed name from a folder of sheet music she'd left in her car.

"Chao Xing. It means 'morning star', doesn't it?" He tossed the folder onto a bookshelf. "How quaint." Midnight strolled further into the room, his shaded gaze travelling along the walls, admiring her collection of tapestries and ceramics.

"Is this an instrument you play?" Midnight approached the zither. A stronger draft from outside carried past him. Fourth grimaced as strong fumes filled her nose.

"Yes, sorry about that. I indulged in a little spirit, shall we say, during First's watch. Who knew hospital operating rooms could be so macabre? Lost track of time a little because of it. Had to hurry to take over Second's watch. The coffee stench is from his place." Midnight started to laugh. And it was a laughter that had Fourth slowly raising her sword again.

"I must say, I was a little disappointed in Second and Third. First was always the clever one, wasn't he. At least he'd chosen a name and honoured profession to reflect his status. But Second? Tsk, a barista? Did you know Third was something called a cybersecurity developer? Who knew the humans would be so into these computers? I see you have one of the Apple here." Midnight lowered his glasses to take in the Mac in the far corner. The gold flecks in Fourth's grey eyes picked up the glow of Midnight's eye of sunlight.

Midnight took a step forward, Fourth a step back.

"One of Third's names was Tripp." Was? Midnight started to laugh again. "Tripp indeed! He took a rather fateful one this morning." Suddenly the laughter cut off. Just like the chimes. Midnight's next step was a lurch.

He was toying with her, she realized. Fourth went to transport herself away, and found she couldn't. Midnight's power was blocking her.

"Hmm, this Here and Now of yours seems a tad too serene, Fourth. But I'm sure I'll find something of interest to do while I'm here." He cocked his head at her. "Why my dear," Midnight's cane rose. "Is something wrong? What do you mean to do with that sword? You would think we'd both be happy to see each other after so very, very long. Is it because I'm calling too early?"

"Stay back! I don't know what's going on but--"

The cane became a blur as Midnight struck the sword from Fourth's grasp in an powerful upswing. The force threw her to the floor. Instantly Midnight was above her. The moment the tip of his cane touched between her eyes, Fourth went still.

Midnight went over to Fourth's Clock. He studied its delicate stream trickling down the wheel for several minutes before tipping it on its side. The water spilled off the table to form a puddle on the floor. And as a silver mist rose from where Fourth had been, Midnight plucked the strings of the zither and scoffed --until he noted the mic, then smiled.

_____

Maya spread a third dishtowel on the counter before plunking the coffee machine on it. There. That should muffle the sound. For good measure, she draped another over the machine, blocking out its flashing red 5:40 AM. Even though she'd resisted brewing a pot til sunrise, Maya couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

'Coffee's bad at night, dear. Worst thing ever if you're an insomniac.'

Really, Mrs. Shultz? I wouldn't know. What if someone's been a total insomniac since, oh, say the dawn of time? Maya only drank coffee because she enjoyed the taste. The packets of premium roast she brought home from the hotel after her shifts meant she always had a steady supply.

Scowling into the open fridge, Maya shoved aside the milk and ketchup on the top shelf with a grunt. She forgot she'd finished the coffee cream yesterday.

Black coffee it was then. She needed to keep the milk for Zoe's breakfast.

It must have been quite the nightmare the little girl had had. She'd only settled back into a sound sleep after a long while. Nightmares, dreams... More things Zoe could experience that her mother never could, thanks to Daniel.

Maya wondered if she should ask Zoe if she remembered any of it when she got up. The girl was still asleep in her bed. Zoe had inherited her human father's ability to sleep anywhere. At the movies, in waiting rooms, standing on a crowded bus, between laundry cycles, on a terrace, in a train...

...behind the wheel...

The top page of the Hello Kitty calendar on the fridge door fluttered when Maya let it swing closed.

Today's date of June 21st was plastered with glittery star stickers. ZoE'S 4 biRtHdaY was thickly scrawled in purple crayon.

Four years. Four years ago today, scared and alone, the Twenty-third Hour had called her First brother in desperation. "I need your help. Please come," she'd panted through her tears into the phone. The contractions were the first physical "pain" Maya had ever experienced... other than the heartbreak of grief. Dr. Oskar had appeared within seconds in her living room dressed in his scrubs straight from his hospital rounds. Her First brother had taken in her swollen belly in stunned silence, then ushered her into her bedroom.

Zoe had been born at one minute to midnight on the summer solstice.

Her First brother had asked if any of the other Hours knew she'd conceived a child... with a mortal man. Only Eleventh, her diurnal twin did. First told her she best not tell any of the other Hours for the time being. "Keep a low profile in this Here and Now," he'd cautioned. An immortal-human hybrid? Who knew what abilities the child would have. What she would inherit from her mother? What would be from her father? First promised to check in on them regularly and help his Twenty-third sister as best he could. And he had, every month dropping by to give Zoe a check-up --physically she was as normal as any human child her age.

Maya smiled as she thought now of the gift she'd gotten Zoe. She couldn't wait to give it to Zoe at breakfast! A sky projection clock! One that would cast the sun, moon, and stars on her bedroom ceiling along with the time. Maya had stashed its box wrapped in bright purple wrapping behind the bath towels on the upper shelf of the linen closet. It was the one place her curious, purple-loving climber couldn't reach... yet.

The book Eleventh --Uncle Kanja to Zoe-- was bringing over for their birthday dinner this evening should please Zoe tremendously too. A Wrinkle in Time. Hopefully it would take more than a day or two for the little girl to finish. The child was a voracious reader.

No. The child was a prodigious reader, having taught herself to read by age three. The daycare coordinator kept hinting to Maya that she have Zoe's IQ tested.

Her hand tightened on the mug she'd taken out of a cupboard.

Just last week, after finishing another stack of books from the local library, Zoe had told her mother in all seriousness how she much preferred the worlds created by words than the boring one of 'here and now'. The Twenty-third Hour had been shocked. Maya had always been careful not to reveal to Zoe anything about her true origins. She'd kept it a secret from Daniel their short years together. Maya wanted to wait until their daughter was older before trying to explain.

She shook her head. Enough. She would think all this over at some later time.

Maya kept staring at the date on the calendar. She was forgetting something, wasn't she.

Oh! That's right! She had to stop off at the bakery in the hotel lobby before her shift to order purple frosted cupcakes. She planned to drop them off fresh at the daycare during her lunch break for Zoe's in-class birthday party. Gracie would cover her room cleanings if she ran a little late getting back.

Tonight with Uncle Kanja, they would order out pizza, Zoe's all time favourite. Double cheese with extra pepperoni --no "yuck onions"-- as per the little girl.

Hmm, that reminded her too. She meant to text Eleventh and ask him to bring some of that great lager they had in Kenya.

A delicious smell of apple turnovers wafted from the toaster oven.

"Eek!" Maya hit the timer stop button at the last second before it went off. She'd completely forgotten she popped them in earlier! The buzzer would surely have irked Mrs. Schultz downstairs. Maya cracked the oven door open. There'd be no better "alarm" to wake Zoe than the warm scent of freshly baked turnovers filling the apartment. Not that Zoe needed an alarm. The child was always on time for everything. And waking up was no exception.

Straightening her shoulders, Maya's gaze fell upon the small handpainted sign hanging over the oven.

"If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done." ~Rita Mae Brown.

Daniel had thought it a hilarious gift to present her one time. "If ever there was someone who put the 'pro' in procrastinate, Maya, that'd be you," he'd laughed, then kissed her.

What would she give to be able to travel back in time to hear Daniel laugh that day again? To be able to kiss him one more time. To be held in his arms. But even immortals were bound to the flow of time. As a temporal guardian, the Twenty-third Hour could only advance her watch through to the next tomorrow. The past of yesterdays was over and done. As an immortal, all she could do was never forget Daniel and the precious gift he'd given her in their child.

Lifting the towel off the coffee machine, Maya poured herself a cup. Its digital clock now flashed 6:00 AM.

And right on time, the excited patter of small feet came rushing into the kitchen.

"Happy Birthday to me, Mommy!"

_____

Zoe was absolutely thrilled with her birthday gift. She wanted to try it out right away. Maya explained that it needed to be dark first to see the projections.

"The circle is getting darker, Mommy."

Maya frowned.

"What circle, Zoe?" The little girl merely crammed another spoonful of cornflakes with bananas into her mouth.

"Was that the bad dream you had?" Zoe didn't answer, engrossed as she was in examining the projector over her cereal bowl. Maya let it slide.

"Eek!" Zoe cried out in a perfect imitation of her mother. She pointed to the coffee machine. It was 7:00 AM.

"Mommy! Hurry, get dressed!"

_____

"C'mon Zoe! We're going to be late!"

Zoe giggled as she held her mother's hand and together they zigzagged at a run between the puddles to the bus stop. The eyerolling bus driver shook his head in the side mirror. But as always, Maya and Zoe made it to the bus at the last minute before its departure. A few of the regular passengers clapped as they always did when mother and daughter dropped into their seats laughing.

And back at their apartment, Maya's cellphone which she'd forgotten on the kitchen table started ringing, stopping when the call went to voicemail. It started over a second after, and over and over again. The Eleventh Hour's sigil flaring brightly on its screen before it disappeared when the phone went dead.