Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  The front door slammed shut and she heard his footsteps on the stairs. When he walked back into the room, he immediately pulled his trousers on over his drawers. “I’ve got to go, sweet love. Just go back to sleep. I don’t expect to be gone long.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He lightly kissed her lips and then pulled on his white linen shirt. “Don’t worry about it, just get some sleep.”

  She obediently laid back down and watched him finished dressing, though in the darkness she could only vaguely see his movements. He kissed her again and then thundered down the stairs, out the front door as if the devil was on his heels.

  Fishing around on the floor beside her, Adelaide located her chemise and pulled it over her head. He was lying to her. Someone wasn’t who worried wouldn’t have run that fast.

  * * *

  AS HER EYES fluttered open, Adelaide squinted into the harsh light from a kerosene lamp. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. It seemed like she had stared at the ceiling for hours. “What’s going on?”

  Thomas leaned over and pulled her up into a sitting position. “We have to go, right now. Just get everyone dressed and get your passes.”

  She knew by the tone of his voice not to question his command. Pushing the sheet back, she scrambled to her feet and ran down the hall to wake up Sarah. Her sister was never easy to wake from dreams; she pushed her away and tried to pull the pillow over her head. “Leave me alone.”

  “Thomas says we have to go.” Adelaide tugged her work dress over her head, trying to button it up and collect Lizzie’s clothes at the same time. “Come on, Levi, get up.”

  Sarah finally sat up. “Is something wrong?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  Her sister moved considerably faster.

  Thomas met them at the top of the stairs. As a light breeze blew in the open window below, Adelaide could smell smoke drifting in from outside. “What’s happening?”

  “General Weber burned the bridge.” He guided her down the stairs, using the lamp to light the way for Sarah and Levi. “They’re going to shell the Ferry; you need to get up to Bolivar. You’ve got to run.”

  “Are you sure?” The glow of the burning bridge lit up the outdoors like it was twilight. In the light, she watched soldiers run down the street, obviously scrambling towards the Heights. “There are still people in town, surely he’d warn us.”

  “He’s not planning on it.” Thomas grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door. “Rebel skirmishers are on their way here, they think there are already sharpshooters hiding in town. Damn it, Adelaide, just get up to Bolivar and find a place that’s safe.”

  He handed Levi the lamp and pointed towards High Street. “Go that way and don’t stop until you get into town. I can’t promise the provost won’t stop you, but you’ve got to try.”

  A soldier, obviously waiting for him, handed Thomas his sidearm. “Come on, Cooper, we’re gonna catch hell for this.”

  “I know, I know.” He turned back to Adelaide for a moment and kissed her forehead. “Be careful…just be careful.”

  Adelaide realized how terrified he looked. She nodded and took Lizzie from Sarah. Without saying anything more to him, she led her brother and sister down the road and made the turn up High Street. It was a precarious street, a steep hill leading all the way up to Bolivar. There were quite a few homes on the way but, not surprisingly, all the windows were dark. She ran; a slow, desperate run. Lizzie felt heavier than a barrel of flour, bouncing painfully on her hip with each step.

  She expected to hear the sound of artillery at any moment, based on Thomas’s description of the situation. There was nothing, not even the sound of gunfire cutting through the still night. Adelaide felt like eyes were watching them in the darkness: Rebel sharpshooters perched in the upper floors of buildings, waiting to shoot them dead, or maybe souls she hadn’t dispatched. She didn’t want to find out.

  As she ran, something lurched out from the overgrown brush along the road and slammed into her side. She choked back a scream, stumbling backwards and pitching into the road. As she fell, she twisted her body and tried to land on her back to cushion Lizzie.

  When she hit the ground, the air seized in her lungs; her brain couldn’t function. What was it? Where had it come from? Maybe it was a man, maybe a soldier or the blast of a shell. Maybe she was dead already.

  But then she heard the hiss behind her.

  There wasn’t even time to bark orders at her siblings; the creature was on her before was steady on her feet, throwing her back into the road. She bucked her body against it, squirming underneath the pressure pinning her arms to her sides. The face was rotted almost beyond notable features and the jaws snapped at her throat. It snarled, snorting at her; the weight of its writhing body heavier than she expected.

  Sarah was behind her, screaming in Latin. Either she said it wrong or the words no longer had effect—nothing was happening. Adelaide forced her hand down to her pocket, sliding it between her body and the mottled, raging spirit on top of her; reaching, clawing, straining her hands for her watch.

  It snapped at her face; she jerked her head to the side, narrowly avoiding the jaws. Her arm felt like it was about to rip from the socket.

  She felt the cool kiss of metal against her finger.

  In one fluid movement, she popped the clasp and yanked the watch out of her pocket. Pure, white light was already flooding out from the face of the watch; it knocked the wraith off of her and into the middle of the street. Adelaide rolled to her side and held the watch out in front of her, steadying the watch with two hands.

  The creature screamed in the street, twisting and jerking as if the light burned its flesh. It violently shuddered a final time and then slammed backwards, its body disappearing into the watch. Pain radiated her wrists at the impact. She grunted, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth.

  The watch face slammed shut.

  Sarah ran to her side and helped her struggle to her feet. “Jesus, what was that?”

  “Maybe one left from the fight on Bolivar Heights, I don’t know.” Adelaide struggled to catch her breath. “Let’s get off the road, come on.”

  Levi pointed to a burned out church. “Do you think that’s someplace safe? It’s abandoned.”

  “We can try.” Adelaide nodded and then grimaced. Her wrists were throbbing. “I don’t want to be trapped inside without a way to get out, so let’s stay near the doors.”

  They huddled together inside, leaning up against each other for support. The floor was littered with rubble and trash, but was free of glass and wood slivers. They wouldn’t be comfortable for long, but sitting down after running the road to Bolivar was a welcome relief. She tried to push the creature out of her mind. It caught her off guard, she hadn’t been ready. Mistakes like that could dangerous—where was her head? Were they counting on her to mess up?

  As Levi extinguished the kerosene lamp, Lizzie looked up at Adelaide and asked, “Is Jesus mad at us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we had to leave home.” She shrugged her small shoulders up and down. “We never have to leave Harpers Ferry. The soldiers usually let us stay.”

  It suddenly occurred to Adelaide that Lizzie had never known a time without the war. She was born at its onset. To her, it was completely normal for the town to be crawling with soldiers; the starvation, the degradation, was nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t remember Luke or Poppa. She didn’t know Harpers Ferry before it was a burned out, rubble strewn, pit.

  The stillness of the night was broken by the roar of artillery from Maryland Heights. From where they sat, Adelaide could see the orange flash of fire when each piece exploded. Every ten minutes or so, another round of shells was lobbed down into Harpers Ferry, presumably to flush out those sharpshooters. They huddled together tightly, covering their ears to try and block out the deluge.

  It had been less than an hour since a Shadow was seen in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.r />
  And may God save their souls.

  * * *

  WHEN IT WAS finally safe enough to slink back down the hill, they met up with Joseph Barry, who had taken count of casualties. Their church, St. John’s, had been shelled practically to pieces. The roof was completely gone. Bricks were strewn about everywhere; half of the buildings in town seemed to have damage of some sort, even theirs. At least four citizens of the Ferry had been killed, one of which was a young girl.

  They didn’t hear of any Confederate soldiers killed, probably because there weren’t any in town.

  Mr. Barry stopped a scruffy soldier midway down High Street. “Was Early repelled? The attack stopped?”

  The soldier puffed on a cigar, no doubt stolen from someone’s store. “What attack?”

  “They said Jubal Early was on his way to take the Ferry.” Adelaide spoke up. “Was he stopped?”

  He blew smoke in her face. “There weren’t no attack; Old Jube never even planned on coming here. It was just a ruse, but damn if Sigel didn’t fall for it.”

  They stared at the soldier. Adelaide was certain her face reflected the incredulous look on her sister and Mr. Barry’s faces. All the shelling, all the people killed…for a ruse?

  “Guess it’s a good thing, though.” The soldier took another puff on the cigar. “There ain’t no one more treacherous than a soul from Harpers Ferry. You people will pledge allegiance to whoever happens to be standing in town at the time.”

  Chapter 33

  August 1864

  SHE COULD ALWAYS hear Thomas enter the store before she actually saw him. The sword hanging from his waist belt always clattered in the scabbard and, regardless of how many times he entered, he always banged it off the doorframe. His boots would clunk across the wooden planks of the floor and then he’d be beside her, always right beside her, kissing the back of her neck or her throat and always taking her breath away.

  As she stood at the cook stove, stirring a large pot of vegetable stew, she heard the clank of his sword and the clunk of his boot. She smiled. He was home, finally; it was like they were their own little family. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezed her tightly. His lips trailed down the side of her throat. “That smells delicious.”

  “It’s almost ready.” She tapped the spoon against the side of the pot. “I made biscuits too.”

  “You’re too good to me.” He drew her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the tender flesh. His arms were still locked around her waist. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  She sucked in a breath. She didn’t have to see his eyes; she knew full well the tone of his voice meant his message wasn’t good. “Very well, go ahead.”

  “The 34th is leaving.” Thomas held her tightly against him, keeping her from moving from his embrace. “We’ve been called down to the Valley.”

  Adelaide closed her eyes, clutching onto the wooden spoon so tightly she thought it would snap in half. She fought her tears back; she clamped her teeth on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. “Why? Why can’t you just stay here?”

  “A detachment is staying, but I’m not part of it.” He finally allowed her to turn and pulled her into a tight hug. Dipping his head down, he kissed her forehead. “I tried, Adelaide, I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.”

  She stared at the straight line of shiny brass buttons down of his frock coat, giving herself several moments to control herself. Hearing the sorrow in her voice would only make him feel worse. “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head as he held her against him. “It’s a long march. I would have told you sooner…but knowing only makes it harder. I’ll write you, I promise.”

  “No you won’t.”

  He pulled on her long braid trailing down her back, forcing her to look at him. “I’ll try this time, really I will. Christ, Adelaide, I’m going to miss you. I’d rather die than break your heart.” His eyes were moist with tears; he searched her face, as if he was memorizing each line and curve.

  “Just come home to me,” she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, “as quickly as you can.”

  He nodded, gently caressing her face with his hand. After a moment, he trailed his fingertips down her throat and dropped his hands to her shoulders. He started unfastening the buttons on the front of her dress. “I’m goin’ to wear you out tonight.”

  Her pulse was already pounding between her legs; she craved his intimate touch. “Then, what are you doing now?”

  “I’m getting and early start.” In one fluid movement, he swept her up against the wall and started pulling her skirts up. He pinned her in place with his hip and crushed his mouth to hers. As he did, he slid is middle finger inside her. His eyes were locked on hers and, after he slid one finger in and out a few times, he dipped his index finger inside as well. “You feel like silk.”

  His fingers felt impossibly long inside her, reaching deeper and caressing her in ways no one ever had. He’d crook his fingers, he’d work them in and out. His kiss was frantic, hungry; pleasure radiated across her low abdomen. The combined feeling of his fingers and his deep kiss pulled her closer to the edge; she could feel the ecstasy building between her legs.

  He must have felt it building from inside because he suddenly slowed down, again adjusting his hand and sliding his body against hers. With his fingers still inside her, he started kissing her throat. “I want to taste you.”

  “Then take me upstairs.”

  His eyes were still intense. He dropped her skirts and took her hand in his, pulling her to the staircase. At the top of the stairs, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot.

  * * *

  THEY STAYED UP together nearly the whole night, making love until he couldn’t anymore and then just holding each other and whispering until they both drifted off to sleep. He rose early, dressing wordlessly by candlelight. She watched him from their bed, staring at the flex of his strong shoulders and the strong curve of his upper arms. She knew every inch of his body; she was going to miss feeling him next to her, snuggling against her as they slept.

  He fastened his waist belt in place and carefully adjusted the sword and scabbard. “It will be fine, Adelaide, don’t look so violently ill.”

  “This is the third time we’ve had to say goodbye.”

  He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. The metal of his sword was cold against her bare hip. “I know, but look how many times we’ve been reacquainted. And you know how much I love reacquainting myself with your body.”

  She smiled, not willing to let him go yet; not willing to let him disappear from her life all over again.

  Thomas kissed her again slowly, deeply; his tongue lapping against hers tenderly. Then he cupped her chin in his hand and stared into her eyes. His brow was knitted in that deep intensity, his gaze so penetrating it was like he could see into her soul. “I love you, Adelaide. I’ll come home to you, I promise.”

  He took a step back and then another, and then walked from the room, never looking back.

  She dressed in her best gown and hoops to see him off, instructing Sarah to style her hair in a fancy chignon. They stood together on the front stoop as the remaining members of the 34th marched down Shenandoah Street. She caught sight of Thomas once, sword in hand, walking along the lines of soldiers. He smiled at her and winked, then turned back to his men.

  And then, he was gone.

  Chapter 34

  Late September, 1864

  PEOPLE NEVER KNOCKED on the shop door. It was always open to any and all patrons. When Charles Moulton knocked on the door that afternoon, Adelaide felt as if her heart had stopped beating—either that, or it was pounding as such a rapid pace she could no longer feel it anymore. Fear rose up in her chest; she felt as if she were John Brown walking to the gallows. There was no way he would pay her a visit, unless he was the bearer o
f bad news.

  “Mr. Moulton.” She forced a smile, holding the door open. “Please do come in.”

  “No, thank you, Miss Randolph.” His hat was clutched in his hands and he was twisting it, nearly into a ball. He coughed. “I just wanted to let you know I received word from the Valley.”

  She stared at him, waiting.

  “Your captain was not among the list of wounded or dead.” At his words, Adelaide breathed a loud sigh of relief and relaxed her grip on the doorframe. He continued, as if he hadn’t noticed the change in her demeanor. “But Major Pratt was killed at Fishers Hill. About a third of the 34th’s numbers have been lost so far. I wanted you to know Captain Cooper fared well, since I know you haven’t heard from him. Major Pratt’s body will pass through here on its way back to Worcester this coming week, in case you would like to pay your respects. I know you were acquainted with him.”

  Adelaide bit her lip. This was her fault. “He was a fair man.”

  “He was, indeed.” Mr. Moulton’s eyes looked distant. He coughed again. “I must return to the Provost Marshall’s office; I have the sorrowful task of sending the telegram to his wife. I bid you a good day, Miss.”

  Following the news of Major Pratt’s and his comrades’ deaths, Mr. Moulton was never the same again. And then, he died.

  The soul collection continued. But her absolution would never come.

  Chapter 35

  Early 1865

  SOMETIME IN THE midst of all the death and suffering, Abraham Lincoln was reelected as president of the United States. The election itself didn’t even come to Harpers Ferry; no ballots were ever cast by the remaining citizens of town. It wasn’t really a surprise: most citizens of the Ferry didn’t care either way. When under Union garrison they were called “Rebs” or “Secesh” and when under Confederate garrison they were called “Yankees.”