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

by Mina Carter

  How did he know I would be coming down this road alone? She looked around. No one else was there. Instinct drove her to help. She got out of the car, grabbed her bag, and dug out her cell as she ran toward the woman on the pavement.

  Looking around cautiously, she approached and saw she would not be able to help. The poor young woman had been shredded.

  Her clothes and skin were in tatters and yet there wasn’t much blood.

  She looked away from the wretched, glassy-eyed girl and shuddered. She had to be strong. She had to be up for this. Think. What did this scene suggest to her?

  Of one thing she was certain: the woman had been killed elsewhere. That was her first obvious conclusion. This young woman would not be walking this lonely stretch of road at such an hour. She wore four-inch heels.

  What else, Chaz? Think.

  There were no farmhouses, no scattering of homes, nothing she would be walking to or from. She hadn’t been dumped in the roadside ditch to be hidden at least until morning. This kill was here for her to find—there was no doubt of this in her mind. He wanted her to believe she was out of her league. Why? To what end? Simply to impress her with his prowess? Frighten her off? Which—or both?

  And he wanted to test her. Finger tapping her chin, Chaz concluded she was something unexpected in his game. Perhaps he hadn’t yet realized she was Rachel Donnelly’s daughter. Or he had and he was testing her to see what sort of witch Rachel had raised her to be.

  Chaz considered this. He had known what her mother could do and had still managed to destroy her.

  Now he is coming for you, Chaz.

  Don’t give him a thing. Keep him guessing.

  She wasn’t playing his game—not tonight with the poor girl lying in the street. Why bother scanning? He had covered his tracks. Why give away what she could do?

  When she found him, and she knew she would, she wanted to take him by surprise. The unexpected package she had in store for him would be her only way of finishing the demon off, and perhaps coming out of it alive.

  However, she did take a good long sniff of air. One thing he could not conceal, was his ugly scent.

  Suddenly a voice in her head started whispering to her.

  It was a male voice, Dark X’s deep and strong, voice, absurdly musical, and almost exquisitely beautiful—incongruously beautiful in the midst of all this horror.

  “Why fight me, Chazma? Come to me, and meet me on equal footing. What things we can do together, my pretty witch.”

  He knew her name. He knew who she was. That settled that question. “Dead,” she shouted, “I want you dead, not using up air you have no right to breathe. I want to see you painfully draw in your last breath and when you do, I want you to say my parents’ names.”

  He seemed to sigh. “I know who and what you are. Now I want to see what you can do.”

  “Do you?”

  “Tsk, tsk Chazma. Come now with me—come and we will play together.”

  “Play? You call this playing?” Soulless monster. Horror choked her. “Come with you? Oh I’m coming for you on my terms and when I do we’ll see what will come of it.”

  “And when the time is right, you will realize how much you will enjoy your darkness. I feel it in you growing and it speaks to me. Soon I will call on who you really are—what beats more and more inside of you.”

  “There is only one thing in me and that is the need to see you dead.”

  “Ah, Chazma dear…you know nothing, but come then—find me, and then we will see.”

  He was gone. She almost felt his departure. Whew! His power was immense. Could she follow his scent to his nest? Could she trace him without giving herself away? He oozed black magic. The wind vibrated with his dark mana.

  Chazma reached out with her mental scan. It touched what was left of his power and she recoiled, losing it immediately. “Bastard!” she breathed out loud.

  All thought was suspended as the blinding light of an approaching vehicle blotted out the vicious scene at her feet. A sleek dark car came to a stop but the headlights remained on and glaring. She shaded her eyes with her hands and tried to see whom it was that had jumped out of the car. He was big and he was fast.

  She had an anxious moment and then realized the large, fast fellow was Jethro McBain.

  A wave of sudden relief surged through her. It was her first instinct. It was an over-riding instinct—and her mind and heart collided in confusion. Relief—this was the man she thought she couldn’t trust and yet what she felt now was relief.

  “Chaz…och, lass, don’t look. Get in my car.” He already had one strong arm around her shoulders and was turning her away.

  “But…the girl…she’s dead. Oh God…Jethro, she’s dead. He killed her.” The humanity in her suddenly took over and banished the magic. All she knew in that moment was the sorrow she felt for this young woman who would be no more. All she felt was the empathy for the woman’s family who would have to be told they lost their loved one to violence.

  “Come on.” He took her arm and led her to the passenger door of his car, opened it wide, and gently situated her within.

  “The jeep…it’s in the middle of the road.” She felt as though she were talking from somewhere off in the distance.

  “Never mind the bloody jeep. I’ll see to it…just stay here!”

  Dazed, she allowed him to take command. She sat and watched as he drove the jeep to the side of the road, got out, and flipped open his phone to make a call. She heard him speaking. Inspector Tom. He had called Tom Murphy.

  Jethro came back to her and leaned in to take her hands and rub them between his own. “Ye are cold and in shock. I would like nothing better than to take ye home right away, lass, but I can’t. Tom is on his way here with some of his men and I am afraid he will want ye to make a statement before we can leave. Can ye manage it, Chaz?”

  Did she imagine the caress in his tone? She looked into his dark blue eyes and they held genuine concern. She had a ridiculous urge to just collapse into him. She controlled herself and nodded. “I’m fine…well, not fine. That isn’t quite the word, but…what I mean is…I…I am up for it.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Good, brave lass. Ye’ll do.”

  “What…what—how did you happen to be on this road?”

  “Quiet night—I was restless, just needed to take a ride.” He looked away from her scrutiny.

  She didn’t believe him, but she let it go, only thankful for his company.

  “Where is your good doctor—shouldn’t he have followed ye home at least?” His hands curled into fists at his side. His jaw clenched and the words hissed between his teeth.

  “Oh…ah…we went to the restaurant in different cars. He…he…I imagine is at home by now.”

  “I just this moment tried him at home and got his machine. I left a message for him.”

  “Won—won’t Tom call in the Dublin forensics team? Wouldn’t they be better equipped for what is turning out to be…er…so many serial murders?” Chaz emerged from her daze.

  “He won’t have a choice now. He’ll have to notify them.”

  “Jethro…the poor girl…I don’t think he left her any blood,” Chaz said on a low note.

  “Ye shouldn’t have had to see that!” Jethro snapped.

  “She suffered, Jet. He ravaged her body before he took the blood—there are claw marks.”

  He put his arm around her. “I wouldn’t have had ye here for all the world. I am so sorry. I should have come sooner!”

  “It isn’t the first time, I have seen those claw marks,” she said on a small voice. “My parents…”

  “I know, love. Hush now.” He enfolded her into his arms and held her a long moment as she composed herself.

  Chaz sniffled as she got control of the hot tears that spilled in streams from her eyes down her cheeks. She took the handkerchief Jethro produced and blew into it.

  “This is one of the reasons I didn’t want ye out alone tonight, any night in Dunglebury.
Or anywhere else for that matter.” Jethro’s voice was harsh in the midst of his distress.

  His heart had gone frigid when he saw her standing over the poor woman’s body. It could have been Chazma lying there and the notion formed a picture in his mind and shook his composure. What if Chaz had run head-on into the demon? She wasn’t ready. She thought she could do it alone, but she couldn’t. He imagined the demon slashing out and killing her in one stroke and it made him want to howl in pain. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t rationalize, and he didn’t want to. At that moment, he only felt.

  “What did you mean, you should have come sooner?” Chaz’s mouth puckered. Her eyes filled with doubt.

  He reached over and brushed away the tear that spilled over onto her cheek. She looked up into his eyes. He could see that she wanted to trust him and probably wouldn’t when he answered her. “Naught. I only meant I wish I had arrived here before ye did.” He looked round at the sound of the garda vehicle pulling up.

  Tom Murphy jumped out and went straight up to the body to curse long and gustily, and announce to the three men following him, “It’s Jenny Doogle, it is.”

  “Aye, and she had no reason to be on this road, Tom.” Jethro had recognized the local girl immediately and sighed heavily for he knew her parents very well. Her wedding had been set for September.

  “What in hell is going on?”

  “Ye tell me, Tom.”

  “Ye said that Chazma found her?”

  “Aye.” Frowning darkly, Jethro once more silently cursed Dunboyne.

  Tom went to Chazma’s side. “Did ye see or hear anything before ye pulled up?”

  “No, Tom. I saw something in the road and…and angled the jeep so I could flash my headlights on…on her. I went to see if I could help her…but she was…gone, and then Jethro pulled up and…and that is all I know.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. There was no way of telling them that she had spoken to the poor girl’s murderer.

  “I’m going to take Chazma home now.” Jethro’s grim tone brooked no argument.

  “Aye, but just one more thing, Chazma?” Tom stalled her and she returned her attention to him.

  “Yes?” Her low whisper wrung Jethro’s heart.

  “What the devil were ye doing out here alone?” It was a shout. “I thought ye knew better.”

  “I had dinner with Dr. Dunboyne at Panders’ Inn…”

  “Did ye now?” Murphy looked surprised. “So then I am asking, where is the good doctor now?”

  “I…we met at Panders’…I was on my way home.”

  Tom Murphy’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Jethro and they exchanged a glance before he tipped his hat and said, “Right then, ye be free to go. If I have any more questions, I’ll call ye, lovely lass, that I will.”

  ****

  Jethro steered the Porsche into the courtyard and parked it.

  Chazma glanced his way and whispered in quiet distress, “I suppose the jeep will be okay out there by the side of the road?” She was more shaken than she had at first realized. Her confrontation with the villain’s disembodied voice had twisted an ice pick in her gut and she felt sick. She thought for a moment she was going to give it up, but she controlled herself with choking gag back down.

  “Chazma,” Jethro said softly as he opened her door, held out his hand, touched her with his glance.

  “I’m okay—it’s okay.”

  He took her arm and helped her out of the car. He gently led her toward the front steps. “Aye, so ye think, but ye aren’t, lass, not one bit. As to the jeep, don’t fret yourself, I’ll go with Patrick in the morning and retrieve it.”

  She saw at once that he was handling her with kid gloves. Too tired to object, she allowed it.

  Jethro had not made it on her very short trust-this-one list, but at that particular moment, she trusted him. “Thank you.” All at once she wanted to bawl.

  Emotions clenched inside her, twisting and making her retch. When her parents had been murdered, she had to be strong for her grams. Then she had to shove her grief into a box and be strong because her mother and father would have wanted her to finish school. And then she had to be strong so she could find the monster and destroy him. But at that moment in time she just wanted to sink into Jethro McBain strong arms and cry.

  Tears spilled over. Her resolution to suck it in broke, and she couldn’t stem the explosion that followed.

  As the first sob escaped, he simply picked her up and carried her to the front door. Managing the doorknob, Jethro shoved it open and then kicked it closed behind him as he carried her to his study. There, he set her on the sofa and sat beside her as she sobbed into his sturdy, worthy shoulder.

  Digging deep, she found the strength to put a damper on it, and started reining in her gut-wrenching sobs.

  He started to get up, but Chaz grabbed at his shirt and held him in place. Patting her hand, he said, “I want to get us some brandy, lass.”

  She sniffed and released him. He got to his feet then turned and bent. He dropped a light kiss on her lips and wiped the tears away from her cheek with his fingers.

  Eyes wet, she locked gazes with him and she sensed he was in alpha male protection mode. She had the feeling that it had been an effort to physically tear himself away to fetch the brandy.

  Gently, he placed the snifter into her hands. He helped her tilt it to her lips, watched her swallow, and then took up his own snifter and took a long sip.

  Chaz’s lashes brushed her cheeks, eyelids drooping, as her thoughts returned to Dark X. He didn’t seem to want her dead. He hadn’t tried to kill her. Obviously he needed her as a replacement for her mother. Without thinking she threw down most of the contents of her glass.

  “Take slow sips, lass.” Jethro’s dark brows rose.

  Chaz found she liked the brandy. The burning sensation pleased her. A soothing wave of detachment accompanied the brew as it shot through her system. She drained her glass and held it out to him. “More please. It is very good.”

  Blue eyes wide and amused, he said, “This is an aged and potent brandy, lass. Are ye sure ye want more?”

  She nodded and watched him as he poured. By holy gosh, he was so fine—and his ass was certainly quite perfect. Men said things like that about women and women called them dogs. What are you doing, Chazma, thinking about him like that at a time like this? Are you a dog? This made her smile idiotically.

  He returned with the brandy and wrapped her hands around it. His voice was a soft caress. “Sip it easy now, lass. Let it linger on yer tongue for just…”

  She downed it in one gulp before he could finish what he was saying and smiled like a fool at him, wondering why he looked so astonished. Wasn’t that what people did? Take shots at times like these—how many people had times like these? She had never been a shots person, but she presently understood the attraction. One got high in a very short span of time and that was just what she wanted: a nice quick buzz to forget for just a little while.

  She desperately needed to forget the horrific scene in the road. She needed to forget that once again the beast had slipped through her fingers. She wanted to forget that very soon she was going to have to unleash everything she had carried locked up from birth and perhaps either lose herself or die.

  She held out her glass. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Me all grown up. I think so…” Was that her slurring her words? She shrugged and beamed at him.

  He poured her a very small amount. She pulled a face and advised him, “You are cheating. That is not a full shot.”

  “Right ye are. Try sipping it this time and enjoy the rich flavor.”

  She realized that this must be expensive stuff and lowered her eyes as she attempted to sip. She didn’t know what had come over her because no sooner had she finished a slow sip, when she found herself pouring the brandy down her throat. She smacked her lips together appreciatively. Uh-huh, that was right…just what she wanted, the room spinning, her mind a blank—uh oh
. And her body burning.

  The sofa met her back and she felt her dress shift upwards. She crossed her legs at the ankles and giggled to herself. Stop! Giggling was completely inappropriate behavior given the events of the last couple of hours. She was up to her eyeballs in torture and mayhem. Giggles did not belong—and so she giggled.

  Jethro didn’t sit but he touched her face, because he knew her giggles were going to turn into sobs if he didn’t do something quick. He had to distract her.

  Even as that stomped through his brain, his blue eyes toured her body and he chastised himself.

  She smacked a spot on the sofa beside herself and said, “Come on, fella, sit and tell me somethin’…somethin’ I need to know.” She eyed him with a sexy half-smile, one eyebrow up.

  He was drawn to her irretrievably, and found himself fascinated. Her survival instincts had kicked in, and she was unconsciously making an attempt to distract herself.

  He admired her strength, and found himself tantalized beyond his imagination. Rock hard, he held himself in check, and wondered how long he could stop his desires. He wanted to crush her into his arms.

  Before he could stop himself, he slid up close and personal, one hand taking hers to his lips, the other encircling her shoulders protectively.

  She repeated, “Come on, tell me something...”

  “Tell you something. Like what, Chaz? What do you need to know?” The words came out hoarse and hungry.

  “What is going on with you?” She leaned into him and peered into his eyes and said suddenly, “Did you know that you have really deep blue eyes? Incandescent…shimmering…” She ran a hand through her long gold waves of hair and added, “But never mind that. There is a secret in those eyes of yours. A big secret.” Chaz nodded her head and it was a loose movement. “Secrets aren’t good…and you got ’em.” She put her finger to her nose. “I know there is more to you than you let on.”

  “Do ye?” he answered. He could see she was more than a little buzzed.

  “I do,” she said. “I saw you. I know you were in that part of the house you say is unused. You have secrets in there.”