Wicked After Dark: 20 Steamy Paranormal Tales of Dragons, Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Mina Carter

  A chill races down my spine, and my blood sits stagnant in my veins. Just as I have the thought, We need to leave. She’s going to kill us, the green flames of the ignes iudicii ignite under Alyssa’s feet.

  She opens her mouth to scream, but all that happens is that her sealed lips stretch to accommodate the lengthening of her jaw, snuffing out the sound. Panic and terror fill her eyes as her flesh turns green and begins to pulse. The flames surround her now, feeding off her body. It pulsates in time with the pounding behind my eyes. Her form diminishes in size with each throb.

  My instincts scream, Run, run, run! But, where to go? The old me would run away. The man Charlotte is creating contemplates ways to rescue Alyssa from the nothingness she is about to fall victim to. Not that it will do any good. She is already half the size she was before the fire started.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that,” the nondescript creature before me says. “Unless you want her fate to be yours as well.”

  A gust of wind kicks up, and a few of the flames stretch towards me. I make to step back, but find that I cannot move. The fire licks the air in front of me, singeing the material of my shirt. The heat caresses my flesh like a sadistic lover, teasing me with the promise of pain if I make one false move.

  “It’s a pity that this lesson will be lost on you once she disappears, but I think it important that we get a couple things straight. After all, fear always tends to linger in the hearts of the weak.”

  The wind dies and the fire centers back on Alyssa, who is now about the size of my arm. The creature steps between us, purposely placing herself so that the fire of Alyssa’s death halos her inhuman form. Three slits appears in the skin over her eyes and mouth. Her eyes open, revealing the uncontrollable flames of the ignes iudicii consuming her pupils. No matter what I try, my eyes are locked on hers.

  “You won’t remember that,” and her head jerks to the space Alyssa used to occupy, “pathetic excuse for an exile. I am taking over and you will only remember that I have forever been your commander. I care not for how you keep the girl from the boy. Alyssa focused on you bedding her, I don’t know why. Kiss her or not. Screw her or not. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that I won’t be so forgiving if she gets in my way of steering the boy in his studies. I need his heart shattered, and she holds the power to do that. I require him to be angry and tormented by the loss of her. A suckling pup won’t usher in our rule. I require a cunning warrior, one no one will suspect of ill intention. You will create this for me. You will tear her away from him. You will come between them. And, you only have a month to do it.”

  Fear and confusion roil beneath my skin. “W–Wh–Why on–on–only a m–m–m–”

  “M–m–m,” she mocks me, her joy at my distress sparkles in her eyes. “Because that is the deadline to sign up for spring classes. Stupid reason or not, that is what it is. I need him out of basic humanities, where he’s wasting time in classes to be with her, and hardcore into political science. We have plans for him. I’m putting you back on your original mission, the boy. Your girl only matters to us because she matters to him, too much. You will change that, by any means necessary. Or, I will.”

  Those last three words drip with a threat she is eager to carry out. “Meaning?” I squeak.

  “Meaning she won’t matter to him if she’s dead.”

  I gasp at how far she is willing to go. Alyssa never threatened to end Charlotte’s life because she knew Breaux would be useless as a result. “But, you’d be throwing him away!”

  “He’s not my only card, Henry,” she slurs, and pain explodes behind my eyes while my chest seizes and constricts around my heart and lungs, sending me to my knees. “He’s just the one with the most potential.”

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t know how to be the man you needed…

  I wake up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a tightness in my chest. There is a ringing in my ears, or at least I think there is, until my roommate speaks up.

  “Answer the damn phone, Henry,” he groans before rolling over and pulling the covers over his head.

  I roll my neck as I reach for the phone. “Hello,” my scratchy voice greets whoever it is on the other end.

  “Henry?” The injured inflection she puts on my name clears the haze from my head in an instant, and I sit up, flinging the covers from my body.

  “Charlotte? Is everything okay?”

  A sob rips through the line and sinks its sharp claws of sorrow deep into my heart. “No!”

  I cradle the phone between my head and shoulder while shuffling into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Where are you, my dear? I’m headed over, right now.”

  She sniffles and manages to get out, “My room.”

  I snatch my Jeep keys from the bedside table, planning to drive the few miles from the frat house to her dormitory. I change my mind when I get outside and see the line of traffic creeping down Greek row for homecoming. My feet will get me there faster than the vehicle.

  She is sitting on the front steps of the dorm when I get there. Her eyes are red and puffy, telltale signs of painful crying.

  “Charlotte?” I choke on her name. It kills me to see her like this.

  I don’t get the chance to ask her what has her so upset. The second the last syllable crosses my lips, she launches herself at me, burying her face in my neck, and coiling her arms around my head. My chest muffles the sounds of her wails, and a few loitering students shoot me a wary glance.

  Her actions leave me stunned. I’ve never been sought out for comfort before. I offered it as an angel. I twisted it as an exile. Before my mind can work everything out, another man cries out for her.

  “Charlotte!” The boy, Wesley, rips her away from me and folds her against his chest. “Why didn’t you call me?” His question comes out rushed. “Why did Alyssa have to? Come on, let’s go.” He turns to lead her away, one arm wrapped lovingly around her shoulders, but she drags her feet. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  Hospital? What is going on?

  They haven’t taken two steps before yet another person calls for her, this time it’s a woman. “Charlotte!”

  The chestnut locks of her roommate’s shoulder-length hair bounce as she bounds down the stairs. Her skeletal arms pull Charlotte into a hug; her green eyes lock on mine, and the flames flash for a nanosecond before they vanish. “We’re all here for you, dear,” she whispers in a consoling tone.

  Everything about her seems off. Like what I see today isn’t the same as what I saw yesterday. Her mannerisms. Her voice. Her features. Given that Alyssa has been my commander since the fall, my mind doesn’t recognize her as quickly as it should.

  There isn’t time to focus on all that is wrong with Alyssa. Right now, the woman I love is falling apart in her arms.

  “What is going on?” I roar, grabbing every eye within a half-mile radius.

  Charlotte jumps at my volume and spins around, throwing herself back at me. This time, I’m quick to wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

  “Oh, Henry!” she pushes out between wracking sobs. “My mother was in a terrible accident! A utility truck rear-ended her car and pushed her into a pylon. They had to life flight her to St. Charles in New Orleans! My dad is with her, but I have no way to get there!”

  I sweep her up into my arms. “Yes, you do, my dear. I’ll take you.”

  “I can’t ask that of you.” Her whispered sobs sound loud in my ear, but it isn’t a protest.

  “I don’t recall you asking.” I am already jogging back to my car at the frat house. The sound of the boy’s and Alyssa’s footfalls pound against the pavement behind me. “Why would you think you couldn’t?” I ask.

  She shrugs and snuggles into my chest, her arms clinging to my neck. “Can we talk about it later? I’m not really up for that conversation at the moment.”

  The icy grip of guilt cinches around my soul. You will be the ruin of this girl, which, yes, that is what you are supposed to
be, but…

  The sight of my Jeep derails the voice of my guilt-ridden conscious. I put her in the car and then run around to the driver’s side. I just popped the gearshift into reverse when two bodies slap against either side of the vehicle beside the rear seats.

  “We’re coming too!” the boy hollers while jumping in behind Charlotte. He leans forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders, bending his head until his forehead rests on her temple. Alyssa hops in behind me, but doesn’t say a word as she straps herself in.

  “Buckle up, boy!” flies harshly from my lips. Just the sight of him comforting the woman I know he loves, at least as much as I do, sends me into a jealous rage. The sound of squealing tires accompany the lurch of the car as I jerk the steering wheel around and throw him back into his seat.

  He follows my order, a grimace marring his youthful face. “That was uncalled for, Montplaisir!”

  “Just looking out for your safety, Breaux!”

  “Wesley, stop!” Charlotte snaps. “Henry is right! I don’t need you nattering in my ear right now, and I certainly don’t need you fighting with Henry! What I need is to get to the hospital and see about my mother!”

  The boy balks at her, but shuts his mouth. The rest of the drive is silent. I drive one-handed, as the other is on the knee of the girl sitting next to me. Alyssa watches the boy out the corner of her eye. He watches Charlotte, a defeated and angry expression engulfing his face.

  Chapter 13

  The accident was a turning point for me…

  “Well done.”

  Alyssa’s emotionless compliment makes me cringe. The boy, she, and I sit in the hospital waiting room while Charlotte chats in an office with the doctor and her father. The boy offered to accompany her, but she waved him off without a word or a fleeting glance. He’s been sulking in a corner ever since, glaring at me when he thinks I won’t notice.

  “Well done, what?” I snarl under my breath. My nerves are fried, given that I’ve spent the last two hours watching the woman I love slowly fall apart and drown in her internal turmoil.

  Alyssa leans into my ear, more for show than anything else, to whisper, “I didn’t expect you to pass this test.”

  My heart plummets in my chest. Pass this test? I understand the implication; I just don’t want to believe it. “What do you mean?” escapes my lips before I can swallow the idiotic question.

  A calculated smirk sweeps onto her face. “I needed to know who the girl would turn to in a crisis. She didn’t even call him, whom she’s known for years. Seems even without any of the romantic trappings these latest generations put so much stock in, she still feels closer to you. I must admit, I didn’t see that coming.”

  All the potential consequences of that particular observation swirl through my mind. Alyssa set this up! She engineered this entire affair! Charlotte’s mother was in no accident!

  “Is it just bad luck that you didn’t kill her, Alyssa?” My fury heats my whispered accusation. “Was it your intent to cause her immense amounts of emotional and psychological pain?”

  She shrugs in response. “These humans give too much power and meaning to death. They all will face it. They use it as motivation. ‘Seize the day.’ ‘Live for the moment.’ ‘Life is short.’ ‘It’s precious.’ They go on ad nauseam about death and its significance, never realizing that they are just cogs in a wheel. Sure, they’ve made advances to be more comfortable, but they never truly accomplish anything long lasting. They are nothing more than a parasite, a scourge.”

  “If they are so inconsequential,” I counter, hands clenched into fists on top of my knees, “why bother with them then? Why are we wasting our time with this boy and this girl?”

  “Because humanity puts stock into power, without ever realizing what true power is. They need leaders who inspire them, and we need chaos. That boy,” and she nods her head in Breaux’s direction, “with the right training and guidance, his charisma will guide men of power. He’ll be a great orator in the future, a man of ideas and action. We just need to twist his good intentions to meet our designs.”

  It is all still above my head, and I don’t consider myself a stupid man. “I still don’t get why we need people at all. Would it not be less time consuming to just change your face and accomplish what you want, whenever you want?”

  Alyssa rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so obtuse. You know why.”

  I shake my head in argument.

  After an exaggerated huff, she holds out her hands and spreads her fingers then continues. “I keep these as far from the crime as possible. We pull strings, Henry. It’s how we survive. If you get too close, our enemies identify you. You know how that will end.”

  And, I do. There are true angels out there who I know have turned a blind eye to my interference in the goings on of man. If they caught me acting versus planting seeds, they wouldn’t hesitate in sentencing me to my death. Humans aren’t the only beings who fear the end to the existence they know. I shiver at the thought, thankful I’ve never been close to that atrocity. But, I’ve had haunting nightmares of watching exiles pulse out of existence. The fear of not being remembered by the people left behind is almost as paralyzing as the fear of existing no more.

  Her nails glow with the green flames that spell our doom, as do her eyes when I bring mine to meet them. “Master your puppet, Henry. It’s the only way to ensure that it will always be their life, her life, on the line and not yours. That’s where death comes into play for us. You’ll be surprised what the right death will do for the right puppet, how eager they’ll be to master some silly objective.”

  Her eyes dart to her puppet who is still sulking in the corner with his eyes locked on the doorway Charlotte will emerge from. We fall silent and time passes without measure. Five minutes could have passed or five hours before Charlotte reappears in the waiting room. When the door swings open and reveals her destroyed face, all three of us stand up. The boy makes a move to approach her, but she heads directly towards me.

  “Make sure to seize this opportunity, Henry,” Alyssa commands under her breath. “Step up your game and put the final nail in the coffin of their unbreakable comradery.” Then she heads over to a stunned Breaux, whose wide and hurt eyes follow every step Charlotte takes to me.

  “Oh, Henry!” she whispers, arms folding around my neck as she buries her tear streaked face in my chest.

  I hold her, not saying a word, while anguished sobs rip from her body. Each muffled cry tears at my soul, and that’s when I realize something. Charlotte cares for me. She trusts me. My eyes cut to the boy. She trusts me over him. Sex didn’t put me between them. I did, this person I’ve become as I’ve gotten to know the real her. This man who talks Shakespeare and Rome, history and philosophy, all with this girl. My age knows no number, and people have always been insignificant, not worth the time to spend getting to know any one person because they lack permanence. And yet, here’s this girl, this eighteen year old child, this beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful muse. She found me, a soul I forgot I possessed, buried deep beneath my hatred and animosity and contempt for the human race. Alyssa is right. I need to master my puppet, but not to accomplish Alyssa’s designs.

  Chapter 14

  I was a damned man…

  “Hey,” I say, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she curls into my lap after visiting her mother. “When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep and a decent meal?” I can’t recall when I last saw her take a bite of anything.

  She looks like hell. There are deep bags under her eyes, and even though it’s only been a few days, she appears thinner.

  She closes her eyes and sighs. “I can’t sleep,” she admits, “and food,” her nose curls. “All I can see is my mother’s neck snapping at impact.”

  It is too soon to know whether her mother will make a full recovery or not, and the uncertainty is tearing Charlotte apart.

  I cup her cheek with my hand, and she leans into my touch. “My dear, you do her no good by wasting aw
ay.”

  “Listen to your boyfriend,” a man speaks up behind me.

  “Dad,” she answers without lifting her head from my shoulder, “how many times do I have to tell you that he’s not my boyfriend?”

  In all the years that I’ve watched over her, I’ve never met the father. He’s about as tall as the form I currently wear, with Charlotte’s hair and eye color. It’s easy to see the family resemblance. A small smile curls his lips, but doesn’t reach his eyes. “Whatever you say, baby girl. Now, you two should go have some fun. I expect you to take good care of her, son, and boyfriend or not, be respectful.”

  “Yes, sir,” I respond, unable to ignore the natural authority that clings to him.

  He offers a curt nod before whispering to his daughter, “Take a night off. Don’t worry about school. Don’t worry about your mother. Go enjoy yourself. You still have a life to live. We both know she’ll hold it against you if you don’t.”

  I feel more than see some of the tension seep out of her muscles. She nods her head and stands, stretching her arms above her and rolling her neck. They hug before she takes my hand to lead me out of the hospital.

  “Where to?” I ask once we’re in the car.

  She props her elbow on the windowsill and lays her head against her fist. “Back to campus, Henry.” Her voice is distant and hollow.

  My thumb and forefinger catch her chin and turn her gaze to mine. “No.” Her eyes bulge and her mouth opens to protest, but I don’t give her the chance. “If you’re not going to sleep anyway, we might as well do as your father suggested, and have a good time tonight. Now, where would you like to go? I’ll take you anywhere.”

  Charlotte shrugs and drops her eyes, refusing to answer me. Genius strikes and I know just where to take her to lift her spirits. The ride to our location on the outskirts of downtown New Orleans is silent. I don’t even turn on the radio. Charlotte’s eyes are closed and her hand clasps mine.