The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

by Trisha Telep

  Katrina nodded and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the flat of her hand. She smiled, showing him she was all right.

  Kyle reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “My thanks for being my confessor,” he said as he let her hand fall gently back to her side. “And I do offer my apologies that I cannot wait for Nikolai’s return, but there are things I must see to.”

  He bowed to her and disappeared, and Katrina returned to her seat to wait for her husband.

  She sat and thought deeply about all Kyle had said, and though she wouldn’t share Kyle’s confession with anyone else -confessors kept their confidences, no matter how horrible or terrifying — she could at least bring up the questions in her mind to Nikolai.

  She had a lot of them.

  Kyle smiled to feel the familiar presence arrive at his home.

  “If I thought you were going to abuse the privilege of unrestricted entry into my home,” he said as he turned to greet Katrina, “I would have rescinded it. How thoughtless of me.”

  “Then why haven’t you corrected it by now?” Katrina asked innocently.

  “Because I mistakenly had faith that Nikolai would have the very good sense to respect my preferences to be left in peace and not send you here whenever you grew bored of your role,” Kyle replied as he took a sip from his glass. “You always seem to show up at my dinner hour as well. I do not think it coincidence that you disrupt my solitude and my sustenance.”

  Katrina could hear the pleasure and teasing he was trying to keep from his tone and smiled at him.

  “We expected you for Hallowe’en,” she chided gently. “I mean, ‘All Hallows’ Eve’, as Nik calls it. Should I have personally delivered an engraved invitation? With bows and ribbons on thick vellum with four envelopes?”

  “Are you implying that I’m pretentious?” Kyle answered with a question of his own. “Or that I’m rude for not attending?”

  Katrina let the silence and her innocent expression answer for her.

  Kyle hid a smile. “Silly mortal holiday,” he murmured. “Taken from origins long forgotten by nearly everyone. And I was not about to play ‘vampire’ to frighten children - if indeed they would be frightened of my ‘real fangs’ in this day and age -for your amusement.”

  “It was a party for charity, Kyle,” Katrina reasoned.

  “A charity to which I made a donation in your honour,” Kyle replied, duplicating her tone. “I don’t believe my presence is required for anything else.”

  “Well, I do,” Katrina said flatly, but then paused. She bit her lip. “The church you told me about: Catrine’s church. Is it still around?”

  “Yes,” Kyle confirmed. “Why?”

  “Can we go? I mean, will you take me there?” Katrina asked.

  “You wouldn’t like it. It’s nothing but an old churchyard now.”

  “Just take me, OK? I want to see it.”

  “No. I’m not Nikolai,” he reminded her. “You can’t just barge in here uninvited and order me about and expect to get your way. Nor can you ply me with your affections like you can him.”

  Katrina’s scowl deepened.

  Kyle returned her look with a bored, blank expression. Then sighed. “Humans. You have to see to believe, don’t you? Very well then.”

  Before Katrina could answer him, they were there. It was dark and cold, and the wind, though gentle, blew through her. Immortal didn’t mean that she didn’t feel the cold, and it was bitter. She chided herself inwardly. What did she expect in November?

  A light dusting of snow made the churchyard look like something Tim Burton would film.

  “I told you that it was nothing but a churchyard now,” Kyle said. His long chestnut ponytail was unruffled by the wind, as were his clothes. He, at least, looked somewhat dressed for the weather. Kyle manifested a long wool coat for Katrina, and she smiled in gratitude.

  “You said ‘churchyard’, not ‘graveyard’,” she pointed out. “Where’s the church?”

  Kyle smiled. “Back then, the dead were all buried in churchyards,” he said. “The church itself has long been demolished. I was very glad when it was deconsecrated. It meant that I could visit.”

  Katrina smiled too and cocked her head at the grave markers. “Let’s go visit,” she urged.

  Kyle led her to the stone monument of the Guardian of Hopes and Dreams that watched eternally over Catrine’s resting place.

  “Nice,” Katrina said quietly, gesturing to the huge gargoyle that served as a gravestone for Kyle’s lost love. “Subtle.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Kyle said, also speaking in a low tone. “Besides, if you knew the purpose of a gargoyle, you wouldn’t be surprised why I chose this one for her.”

  “They’re said to scare off evil spirits,” Katrina replied. “But I’ve never seen one like this. Why is it chained?”

  “The Guardian of Hopes and Dreams is forever chained to the pedestal of destiny,” Kyle replied softly. “Or so his description said when I found him. There’s a lot of symbolism in this piece that speaks of what dreams we must hold on to, and which—” Kyle gestured to the ground below the monument “—we must let go.”

  Katrina put a comforting hand on Kyle’s arm, but jerked it back when she heard laughter.

  “For years,” came a dark voice from beside the grave, “both mortal and in Hell, I have watched and waited for you to find another one, Kailkiril’ron.”

  A form appeared from behind the fountain.

  “Still spying then, Kihirin,” Kyle said in a bored tone. “I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, thinking for yourself is such a hardship.”

  “Actually, this is ‘for myself,” Kihirin answered darkly. “No one cares about you any more. You are a joke. No one here wants you either, I see, except . . . Who is that little thing you have there? Another one willing to die for you? You waste no time, Kailkiril’ron.”

  “And you’re still inattentive,” Kyle said with a menacing grin. “For all your spying, you haven’t learned a thing.”

  “You have the Destrati sovereign’s wife right there in your hands,” Kihirin said. “Do you know what her soul is worth? You offer that and Father will give you back your own—”

  Katrina watched in horror as Kyle grabbed Kihirin’s mortal form by the throat. She stepped hurriedly backwards and fell hard against the base of the gargoyle monument. She yelped as the corner grazed her arm from wrist to elbow. She might be immortal, but that didn’t mean things still didn’t hurt like hell.

  “You have no idea how badly Hell can hurt, little girl,” Kihirin snarled at her, both his hands trying to free himself from Kyle’s grip. “You have an idea, do you not, Betrayer? Forsake her, and you can have everything back. Remember who you were? Remember your legions? Remember your command? Andronicus leads now, and being under his command is nothing compared to what it was to serve under you. You were so much more everything than he is. Twenty thousand legions at your command, Lord General. Perfect obedience. And your masterful touch at soul-rending. No one could torture a soul, mortal or immortal, like you. Remember the sound of home? How often do you kill an innocent young one slowly just to hear that sound again? Remember your hound—”

  “I remember,” Kyle said darkly, “my service and blind obedience.”

  Kyle released Kihirin, tossing him dismissively towards the fountain without effort. The demon fell backwards, almost into the water.

  “You can have it all back,” Kihirin said again. “All you have to do—”

  “Is give you what I don’t have, and never will again,” Kyle snapped. “You saw to that when you released her soul.” He sniffed disdainfully. “I am . . . was . . . the Lord General. Firstborn. I do not just blindly follow orders like the rest of you.

  “Father should have had more faith in me,” Kyle added.

  Kihirin laughed. “You imply that you would have given up her soul, if only you had been asked and not ordered to?”

  Kihirin reached slowly into the pocket of the
jacket he was wearing and brought something out of it. He opened his fingers and there, sitting in his palm, was a glittering ball of faint white light, marred by tendrils of black cracks manifested over its crystalline surface.

  “No,” Kyle protested, though it was little more than a whisper. He glared at Kihirin. “She was an innocent. Her soul ascended. Do not think I do not know the extent to which you will go for your amusement, Kihirin.”

  Katrina could only watch in horror. Was that really a soul she was seeing? It didn’t look like she expected it to. It was quite small, and almost ordinary looking. It looked so sad and vulnerable all on its own.

  “Well, it is not as pure as it once was after having been tortured for all this time. I can see why you wanted it for yourself,” Kihirin said, laughing again. “Why you kept it from Father. You always did find it difficult to obey without proper motivation. When you came back unsuccessful . . . you, Lord General ...” Kihirin tsked and shook his head, then held the ball of light out to Kyle. “I have kept her all this time for you, Lord General, so that when you regained your senses and remembered your loyalties you would have it to present to Father, so you could reclaim your place. I assure you, it is hers.”

  A mournful cry, like the screech of an improperly rosined bow over taut violin strings, reached Katrina’s ears. The sound of it dropped Kyle to his knees.

  “Catrine . . .” Kyle said, choking on the name.

  Kihirin crouched down before him. “Return with me,” Kihirin urged. “Present this to Father as you should have done before. Humble yourself before him, and he might even allow you to atone using her—”

  Kyle flung Kihirin against the fountain monument with such force that the soul in Kihirin’s hand fell to the ground at the base of Catrine’s grave.

  Kihirin’s mortal eyes widened. Kyle stood over him, looking down mercilessly. Even as a lost soul, he was still more of a demon than Kihirin could ever hope to be.

  Kyle roared an unintelligible word, banishing Kihirin from using the means to manifest here ever again. Then he knelt to look down at the abandoned soul Kihirin had left behind. But before he could touch it, the ball of light changed and took something of a transparent form before him.

  It was fleeting, but Katrina saw the form reach to touch Kyle’s face before disappearing entirely.

  It was all Katrina could do to choke back the sob in her throat. It wasn’t enough, however, and attracted Kyle’s attention.

  Kyle glanced at Katrina. Her cheeks were wet as he came to help her stand. He reached for her arm and righted her. She yelped again as his touch made her aware of her injury. Kyle held her wrist with one hand as he passed his other hand over her wound. It healed instantly.

  “Are you all right?”

  It was the first time in a long time that Katrina had felt gentleness and genuine warmth in Kyle’s touch. She pulled back to look at him.

  Even without a soul, Kyle’s presence was formidable. What must it have been like when he was whole?

  “That was her, wasn’t it?” Katrina asked softly. “He wasn’t lying to you. He had her, all this time.”

  Kyle nodded absently as his eyes strayed to the empty place where Catrine’s soul had stood for a moment.

  “Now that she’s free, she can return to you,” Katrina said, her eyes sparkling. “Sure, she’ll have to be born again and you’ll have to find her again and all that, but she’ll come back to you, I know it! Don’t look so unhappy. This is a wonderful thing!”

  Kyle looked up at the heavens. Then he cocked his head to one side and slowly turned to gaze at Katrina. He could sense that she wanted to ask a question. He tried to hide his smile.

  Katrina suddenly felt warm - too warm for the winter coat she had on.

  “Kyle, um, you wouldn’t really have—” she looked up at him, meeting his pale ethereal eyes “—given your dad Catrine’s soul . . .”

  Kyle lifted her chin with a crooked finger.

  “. . . if he’d asked for it . . .”

  He smiled slightly.

  “... would you?”

  The heat creeping up her neck was starting to become oppressive. She opened her coat and fanned the collar a moment, trying to cool herself slightly. She felt like she was being slowly strangled.

  Kyle didn’t reply. He simply studied her, looking deep into her eyes.

  She smiled at him, waiting, but still he said nothing. Not even a hint of a wry smile, no arched, derisive eyebrow. It was a little . . . eerie, and she thought herself pretty well used to eerie by now.

  But then Kyle smiled and offered her a graceful half-bow.

  She knew it was the only answer he was going to give. She laughed to herself for thinking he would . . . thinking he could have.

  Would he?

  She met his eyes again, quickly. Pale and sea green. She could see more in them now.

  “Once a thief, always a thief,” her mother was fond of saying.

  As Kyle gently took her arm, and shifted them both to her home, Katrina tried to silence her mother’s warning in her head.

  “Once a demon, always a demon?”

  Night Vision

  Maria V. Snyder

  Sophia started the Honda 250X dirt bike. The roar of the engine cut through the quiet darkness. A perfect September night for a ride, she thought. The air smelled of living green. No moon. No wind.

  She swung on her backpack, strapped on her helmet, and checked her safety gear before pulling on a pair of padded leather gloves. She straddled the bike.

  Where to? Sophia glanced at the surrounding forest. She lived near the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. Basically, the middle of nowhere with not a soul around for miles. Which suited her just fine. No neighbours. No annoying questions. No light.

  She decided to ride over to Standing Indiana Mountain near Georgia’s northern border. It had been a couple of months since she last visited. The old glider landing strip near the peak would be a nice place for a midnight snack.

  The bike jumped to life as she feathered the clutch. Following the narrow trails, she rode hard. Low-hanging branches smacked against her chest protector. She ducked thicker limbs, navigated around trunks, splashed through streams and motored up inclines. Her heart raced with pure adrenaline as the bike chewed up the miles.

  Sailing over the last mound, Sophia whooped in mid-air. The bike landed with a solid thud. She stopped at the edge of the airstrip and removed her helmet.

  It took her a moment to realize that the long grass that had grown wild on the strip had been cut to stubble. Tyre tracks grooved the ground. The glider port was no longer abandoned, but no aircraft was in sight.

  Curious to see if the farmhouse nearby was also in use, Sophia hiked to the dilapidated two-storey building. Sure enough, light gleamed from the windows despite the late hour. A blue Ford F150 pickup with Virginia licence plates rested in the weed-choked driveway.

  Not a weekender - Virginia was too far. Perhaps the new owners were glider pilots.

  The brightness from the house burned her eyes. She averted her gaze and headed to her bike. But the sound of tyres crunching over stones enticed her back. Crouching nearby, she vowed to leave as soon as she spotted the car’s owner. After all, they were technically neighbours.

  Face it, Sophia, it’s the first bit of excitement you’ve had since Dad died.

  A Land Rover bounced and bumped along the dirt. . . well, calling it a road would be an exaggeration. Clouds of dust followed in its wake. Keeping out of the headlights’ beams, Sophia watched as the Land Rover stopped in front of the house with a squeal.

  Two men stepped from the vehicle. A tank-sized, muscular man pounded on the front door. “Hey Rick, come out. We caught a big fish.”

  The driver unlocked the back gate. The door swung wide and Rick came out of the house to join his friends.

  “Who the hell is that?” Rick demanded.

  “He’s a Fed, man,” the Tank said. “Special Agent Mitchell Wolfe.”

 
An icy chill crawled up Sophia’s spine. The cliché about curiosity and dead cats churned in her mind.

  “Shit. How much does he know?” Rick asked.

  “He knows we’ve been collecting treasures, but he doesn’t know the pick-up location,” the driver said.

  “Shit. What did you bring him here for?”

  “He hasn’t reported in yet. We didn’t know what to do.” Keys jangled as the driver gestured.

  “How did you know he didn’t talk to the Feds?”

  “We threatened to harm his treasure. He blabbed like a baby.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yep.” The big man yanked a long mesh bag from the back seat of the Land Rover.

  Rick jerked a thumb towards the house. “Inside. Wake Glenn. We’re gonna need him.” A resigned annoyance coloured his tone.

  While living in the middle of nowhere had its benefits, it also had its drawbacks. No wireless signals. No authorities within fifty miles.

  The two men discussed delivery times as they waited for Glenn. Sophia heard “4 a.m.” and “three treasures” before Glenn slunk from the house.

  “This better be good,” Glenn said.

  “We have a problem,” Rick explained.

  “No problem.” Glenn gestured. “We’re in the middle of bloody nowhere. Nobody’ll find him.” He pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed.

  Sophia jumped to her feet. Ready to ... what? Scream?

  Rick shoved Glenn’s arm down. “Not in the Rover, you idiot. Blood evidence stays behind even after you clean up. Don’t you watch CSI?”

  Glenn shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Go ten miles and shoot him in the woods. Leave him for the cougars. Ed, you drive.”

  The driver closed the back. He slid behind the wheel. Glenn hopped in beside him.

  Watching the Land Rover U-turn, Sophia’s thoughts raced. There was no doubt she had to help, but Glenn was armed. She had a tool kit, but no weapons. Tonight had been a fun ride, not a hunting trip.