Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Kim?”

  He brought it up to his ear, straining to hear an answer.

  “Um… Z-zeb? Mister Zebedee?”

  Nothing.

  “C-c-coyote?” Even the cantankerous shaman was a better option than the one that waited for him outside.

  Seconds ticked past. The mirror stubbornly refused to cooperate. Still, rather than drop the useless thing, Lenny snapped it shut and returned it to his pocket.

  The closest phone receiver was in the kitchen. He turned and went for that instead. The number for Kim’s apartment was scribbled on a pad of sticky notes on the counter beside the phone. But silence on the line told him that the phone was dead, the line cut, and Kim was all the way across town.

  Lenny put the receiver down numbly. He was trapped, boxed in by the same threshold that was protecting him. He was safe inside, and would stay safe inside forever while outside, Sebastian was free to kill until he got what he wanted, whatever that might have been.

  And Lenny was safe inside, safely trapped, while his best option was all the way across town.

  Not all of her, though.

  Part of her, at least, was in him, and part of him was in her. Lenny hesitated, reluctant to draw any comparison between himself and Sebastian, but he had to acknowledge that it was blood tugging him relentlessly toward the street, his blood, and if he could figure out how to use that, there was some small possibility, the tiniest chance…

  He turned inward, trying to find the part of Kim that he carried. It wasn’t as difficult as he had expected. She was a protector, a friend, and more than a friend, someone without whom he doubted he could survive long, and so he had stored her near the dead remains of his bond with Kate.

  Reaching her was the difficult part. A medium was a creature designed to serve the dead, not to command the living, and part of him feared that even to try would break the Rules. But he had no other choice, and the thought he fixed in his mind was not so much a command as a desperate plea. Don’t let him send me to sleep again. Don’t let him make me forget.

  He was indistinctly aware of her face, through a vague sort of second sight, eyes full of tears as she moved away, away from him. He had thought her eyes were dark brown, but the vision showed him purple. There was Other in her somewhere, though it had to be buried deep in her ancestry. He had not guessed that about her. Neither had he guessed that she would abandon him.

  His chest hurt, and his resolve wavered, and before he knew it, he was standing on the front porch, his blood thrumming with anticipation, pupils dilated despite the blinding afternoon, with no memory of having gone through the front door. He caught himself relaxing and tried to fight, snatching futilely at the shreds of his control as they slipped away. But why? he wondered. Surely he didn’t enjoy the perpetual fear, the pain of his shattered life, of Mara’s coldness, of Kim’s betrayal. He couldn’t possibly prefer to be useless, a coward, an emotional cripple. The emptiness was better than that. Where there was nothing, there could be no weakness. It was simple logic. He could not fight logic. It enveloped him, drawing out a sigh of relief as he sank down until the discomfort of being Lenny had disappeared.

  “That’s good,” Sebastian encouraged. “Good boy. Come.”

  The praise sent a thrill of pleasure up Lenny’s spine. He shuffled eagerly out into the sun, leaving the door standing wide open behind him.

  “Very good. But we’ll have to work on response time. That took way too long, friend. You were fighting me. You should know better than that.”

  The pleasure gave way to a twinge of fear, and Lenny flinched, but Sebastian smiled.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed, his voice layered, enchanting. “It’s okay, you probably just forgot, didn’t you?”

  Lenny nodded frantically.

  “But you remember now. Just like riding a bike. You know why you’re mine. But in case you needed a refresher…”

  Lenny stiffened, then collapsed in agony while Sebastian watched. Pressure built behind his eyes, every nerve on fire, every old scar shot through with new pain. Every muscle tightened, hands twisted into claws, eyeteeth lengthened in a useless defense reflex. Then it was done, leaving him shaking, sweating, struggling to keep his ragged breathing from becoming screams.

  Sebastian plucked Lenny out of the crispy grass and set him back on his feet.

  “That was for fighting,” he said simply. “Get in the car. We’re going to meet a friend of mine. I think she can help us hide until all of this blows over.”

  The car was a gleaming black Mazda, almost definitely stolen, parked cockeyed across the middle of the street. Lenny shuffled around to the passenger side and climbed in, shivering. There was a stack of new maps – probably also stolen – on the dashboard. In some part of his mind, momentarily jarred back into wakefulness by the lingering spasms in his limbs, he wondered what the hell Sebastian was talking about. Us? Lenny was not the one who needed to hide. Lenny was not the one being hunted. Lenny did not need Sebastian’s help.

  Sebastian slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He ran an approving hand over the shining steering wheel, threw the car into reverse, and rocketed back down the street.

  Beneath the detached, floating stillness, something else nudged its way into Lenny’s mind. With Sebastian temporarily focused on driving, there was no new onslaught to drown it out, and it grew gradually into something Lenny could understand. An apology, repeated, despairing, grieving. Kim. She had tried, tried and failed, but failure was not abandonment. He reached out for the thought, desperate for the feel of someone he could trust. She had tried. She might be able to try again. It might still be okay.

  “Of course, you did come. Took you long enough, but you did come.” Sebastian turned with his deceptively gentle smile and met Lenny’s eyes. “I do appreciate that.”

  An awful giddiness swelled in the pit of Lenny’s stomach, spreading and heightening into ecstasy. The pain faded, and thought faded, his mind crushed into silence by overpowering bliss. It never occurred to him to resist, not that he could have if he wanted to. Not that he could want to. Nothing remained but the awareness that it was Sebastian’s doing, that it all depended on him, that obedience brought pleasure. It was too simple, too easy. His pupils dilated until there was no color left around them. The echo of Kim drifted away, unmissed.

  Chapter 14

  THE PLACE WHERE Lenny woke was stained, and the feeling was one he knew. He became aware of it gradually, bits at a time, even before he could recognize how awful he felt, shaky and exhausted, washed out. The air around him was tight and heavy with death, ticking like a cooling engine, and that was part of him. The feel of death broke in on his ghost sense before his own pain could hit him. He quickly catalogued what he knew. The death was recent, violent, two or more people. There were shades nearby, rapidly fading, but no real spirits, and even the echoes would be gone by the time the bodies had cooled. No unfinished business, then. No conflict. He was not needed.

  He rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up and was very nearly sick for his trouble. His stomach lurched and his throat constricted, and he closed his eyes and held perfectly still until it passed. The feeling was horribly familiar. The place was not, though, and for that small mercy, Lenny was grateful. No putrid green wallpaper lined this bedroom; no tattered Western novels covered the floor. It was obviously someone’s guest room, sparsely decorated and too generic to be regularly inhabited. There was, however, a sheet of new foil taped over the window.

  And there were voices from below.

  He should have been able to listen, he knew, but his senses were fuzzy and his focus was fuzzier. The only thing that came through clearly was the death somewhere close by. Not drugs this time, he thought – his throat did not taste like hangover. It might have been nothing but sheer exhaustion, being used into unconsciousness. The memory was not unpleasant, but he shied away from it out of shame. At the same time, a tiny corner of his mind clamored for more. Being with him feels good. I
t’s not difficult, and it could be much worse. I could be in a cellar.

  Lenny glanced at the window and thought about trying to go through it and get away. He would not freeze, this time, not in the summer heat. But he also could not get out silently, and he could not hide from or outrun Sebastian, and his fear of punishment was far more confident than his perverse desire for reward.

  He pulled himself up to standing, supporting himself on the wall to combat the ache in his ears and the dizzy spinning in his head. It was not the worst he had ever felt, not even close. That was cause for hope, however small. He was not in a cellar, not tied up, not bled dry, and not drugged. He could not remember much after leaving Mara’s house, but he did remember leaving and did not remember going back, which meant that Mara and her daughters were probably safe. Kim was still out there somewhere, and while he was aware that something had gone wrong with her, he was also aware that she was not dead. He could not hide from Sebastian, but Sebastian could not hide him from Kim, and he believed that she would come. Maybe. Eventually. At least, he believed that she would try. All was not lost, not yet.

  He shuffled out the door and down the stairs, toward the voices. One of them was unmistakable. The other belonged to a woman. Lenny’s physical senses were on the fritz, so he stretched out his ghost sense instead, investigating as well as he was able. Sebastian loomed beyond the base of the stairs like a train wreck: huge, attention-grabbing, horrific, and fascinating, radiating violence and anguish. It was difficult to feel anything past him.

  The others… Others? There were the corpses, probably the owners of the house, which had ceased to be a home when they had died. The fading echoes they had left behind showed Lenny a middle-aged couple and a grown child, a son. He did not probe further than that. He did not want to get to know them. The remaining presence was more subtle. The woman. She was also undead, also a killer, but not a sadist like Sebastian. The deaths that stained her, though many, were swift, nearly painless, and mechanically efficient. She was an animal, not a psychopath.

  That was reassuring. This one was more like Edith and Tony, more amoral than immoral, incapable of recognizing the difference between right and wrong, but not actively cruel. It was not good, exactly, but the possibility of another like Sebastian would have been too much.

  “It’s necessity. You should be grateful I’m asking. I could just make you-”

  “You could. We both know why you won’t. And necessary or not, I can’t. I have to leave, thanks to you. I was actually starting to become fond of them. They would have written me into their will in another few months. All that time, wasted…”

  “Big deal, so I threw off your timetable. You lost some money, but I could lose my life.”

  “You don’t feel anything, do you? Why should I care about your life? You just killed my family.”

  “Oh, come on. Pets, at best. You’ve never been able to see them as people.”

  “Protection! I had a place to live. I was comfortable here. And they were a family, and I liked them, and they were mine. You can’t go around breaking other people’s things and then expecting them to rush to help you!” Her voice rose angrily at the end, picking up the barest trace of an accent Lenny could not identify.

  He peered around the corner and into the living room. There was blood on the carpet, but no bodies were visible. Another sheet of foil had been taped over the picture window. Sebastian lounged in a velvet-upholstered recliner. He glanced at Lenny and dismissed him, but the woman rose to her feet.

  She was easily as tall as Sebastian, almost six feet, but with none of his mass, all straight lines and angles. Her cropped auburn hair curled around her face, shading sharp, gray-green eyes. She had an interesting look, intensely intelligent and quick as a whip.

  “I’m Rhona,” she said. She extended a hand and took a step forward. Lenny took a step back.

  Rhona lifted an eyebrow, standing still for a moment before she dropped her hand. She cast a disgusted look back at Sebastian. “This? This is what you think you want to do to me? He’s boring. You wouldn’t want me if I cowered.”

  “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

  “Constantly threatening me is doing nothing to improve my opinion of you.”

  Sebastian rose with a volcanic rumble, emanating power. He was a titan, but his argument was weirdly childish. “If you’d just do what I say, I wouldn’t have to!” He stalked to the front door, whirled, and pointed at Lenny. “Talk to him, then. I can guarantee he won’t threaten you.”

  He slammed out, and Lenny felt himself drawn downward, dissolved, rearranged. Empty, purposeful. There was a plan in his head. He could use his strange powers to make Rhona help. Force her. She would trust him. She wouldn’t have any choice, wasn’t savvy enough to see through the trick. He could make her want to help. And maybe, if there was time, he could extend that trust to Sebastian. He reached for the Veil.

  There was nothing there.

  Startled, he blinked and swayed, catching himself on the wall before he could fall.

  The woman was watching him curiously. “What just happened?” Her voice was concerned.

  “He wants me to c-convince you.”

  “You managed to refuse him?” Her eyes widened.

  “No. I… I d-don’t think so. He wanted me t-to force you, and I c-c-can’t. G-guess he c-can’t make me do things I’m not able to d-do.”

  “He does have some limits, yes. Not many. Not enough, in my opinion.”

  “He’s… He’s a-afraid of you?”

  Her eyebrows went up, and then she smiled. “Because he hasn’t demolished me? Sort of the opposite actually. He honestly believes everyone in the world is out to get him. I was able to convince him that I just don’t care one way or the other about him. Not caring whether he lives or dies is apparently enough to make me a friend, in his book. It’s tragic, in a way.

  “Your name is Hugo?”

  “My name is Leonard.”

  “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, Leonard. I’d help you if I could, but my position is precarious enough. I can probably get away with ignoring him, but defying him outright is too dangerous.”

  She returned to the sofa and sat, gesturing for Lenny to come and join her, but the living room was where the death had occurred, and the air there was so thick it stung his eyes. He did not move.

  “There are p-people who want to kill him.”

  “There are always people who want to kill him. He makes sure of that. It validates his paranoia. He makes himself a target, gets himself attacked, and then feels justified retaliating out of all proportion. Why did he think you could force me? You’re not like him, are you? One is more than enough, though it might explain why he thought you deserved this.”

  “I’m not.”

  She waited for more, hands folded primly on top of her knees.

  Lenny scratched at his scarred throat and shifted his weight. His legs felt bruised, and he was not interested in finding out why. “Medium. I d-don’t think he really understands what that means.”

  “I’m not sure I really understand, either. I didn’t think it was possible for a medium to be changed.”

  “That’s a c-common misconception, apparently,” he muttered. “It means I c-could never hurt him, even if I wanted t-to. He knows that. I g-guess he’s mad I invalidated his p-p-paranoia.”

  “You can’t hurt anything dead, can you?”

  “No. Not voluntarily.”

  “I think I may have known that. I think I may have felt it.” Rhona crossed her ankles. Her retinas reflected the low light, turning her pupils for a moment into white discs. “It hurts you. That’s why you won’t come in here.”

  He nodded, and she rose again and came to join him out in the hallway. “There is a dining room, if you prefer to sit. Or outside, if you prefer to run. I wouldn’t stop you.”

  “He’d c-c-catch me. It would hurt.”

  She nodded her agreement and led the way to the dining room inste
ad, pulling out two chairs for them to sit. And when they were seated, she said nothing. Apathy seemed to be her gift. She did not care one way or the other about Sebastian, and she gave no indication of caring one way or the other about the medium sitting beside her. After a few minutes of silence, she stood and left. Blurred though everything was, Lenny could make out the creak of heating metal and the rumble of water beginning to boil. When she came back, she brought tea.

  Lenny wrapped his hands around the hot mug and let it warm his palms. “I shouldn’t be so t-tired.”

  “You weren’t asleep earlier. Enthralled, I would call it. Or perhaps ecstatic, using the mystical definition rather than the emotional. If you’re tired…” She gestured toward the upstairs.

  Lenny considered being asleep when Sebastian inevitably returned. He had failed to convince Rhona to join their little band, and could not in good conscience try any harder. Failure was going to hurt. Sleep might mitigate that, but it would take away any chance he had of bracing himself. He stayed put.

  “You have a certain way with the dead, is that not so? As a medium?”

  Lenny flinched.

  “With the undead as well?”

  He pressed his eyes shut and did not answer.

  “You say you cannot cause harm, and I think I felt that. You mentioned that Sebastian felt it, as well. Would others?”

  He dared a glance and found Rhona looking at him with more than simple curiosity in her pale eyes. “Wh-why?”

  “May I ask you for something?”

  He wished he could say no. He deeply, fervently wished that he could say no. But whatever it was, it was important to her, and he was a medium. “You can ask. I d-don’t have a lot to g-give right now, though.”

  “If you can help, I might consider helping Sebastian. You can tell him you convinced me, and he might be easier on you.”