The Best Paranormal Crime Stories Ever Told

by Martin H. Greenberg

  “You don’t need to know,” Mac said. “Kate is mundane. Normally I’d be telling her that she’d had a fever dream or was hallucinating—”

  “Lovely,” I muttered through my eggs.

  “I need to know more,” Mac replied. “And consult with my colleagues. I will take you home, and ward the house. That will keep you safe for now.”

  I rolled my eyes, and slipped Itty and Bitty each a piece of toast. They were at my feet, taking anything they could get and begging for more.

  “But first,” Mac said. “I need to know what you protect.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking—”

  “Not you,” Mac said, staring down at Wan.

  Wan tilted his head to the side, and set his cup down. “How is it that I must speak when you remain silent?”

  “I came when you called.” Mac said.

  Wan studied him for a moment, then gave him a nod. “So be it.” He stood, and pulled a white paper napkin from the holder. He spread it out on the table, and then turned to retrieve his sword.

  Mac and I reached out to clear away the butter, jam and other items, leaving the table clear. Wan walked to the middle of the napkin, and knelt down. He set the sword down in front of him, and then bowed, knocking his head three times three, moving with great dignity.

  He lifted the sword then, and removed the red tassel at the base of the hilt. He set that to one side, and rapped the sword down three times on the table.

  The hilt sprung open.

  Mac and I leaned forward to watch, almost bumping heads.

  Wan removed a small bundle wrapped in white silk from the hilt, and set the sword aside. He placed the bundle before him, and again, prostrated himself before it. Normally I would have been impatient, but I was caught up in his approach to that bundle. To Wan, it was worth his life.

  Wan raised his head, reached out and pulled the cloth back. There, on the white silk, lay a necklace. Putting his hands under the silk, he arranged it in an oval.

  It was lovely, with heavy jade pieces, bright green against the white. The pendant that hung from the necklace was almost circular, and an odd color. It looked rough, like the inside of an oyster, yet it seemed to sparkle with all colors in its depths.

  For just a moment, I seemed to feel the necklace around my head, resting cool against my collarbones, then warming against my skin. The pendant would lay upon my breast, heavy yet light, with . . .

  “It’s lovely, Wan.” I whispered.

  “You look upon—”

  I could barely hear him. The necklace seemed to call to me, and on impulse I reached out and brushed the pendant with my finger, just wanting to feel—

  “Kate, NO.” Wan shouted.

  My finger touched the scale and the world went white.

  I was floating, suspended between earth and the heavens, hanging freely as if underwater, clouds all around me.

  I gasped at the change, then gasped again when cool air rushed into my lungs, with a taste of rain and spring on the air. I breathed again, filling my body with energy and light, lost in the sensation.

  The clouds eddied around me, heavy with mist, white and intangible. I started to try to tread the air, to see if I could turn, but my hands passed through the clouds, collecting the heavy drops within. I couldn’t move.

  Something else could, though. I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a rumble, as if of far distant thunder on a sunny day. I saw a huge form moving in and out of the clouds, flowing like a snake. I had a quick glimpse of scales that glittered all colors of the spectrum, then a huge head reared up before me.

  I’d seen enough to know a dragon. No wings, just a fierce, lovely face and huge teeth and claws. A museum print come to life, the only source of color in the white billowing clouds.

  It saw me. Not just me, it saw through me somehow, right down to my soul and I shook as I hung there, pierced by its gaze. Then it threw its head back, and shook it’s mane, and laughed.

  The heavens resounded, and the earth trembled with the sound, as if all of creation shared the joy of this being. For it did not mock, nor was it threatening. It was a joyful sound, and my heart shared in its delight.

  It coiled around me, massive and powerful. It’s . . . no . . . his eyes were warm and bright, considering me as if part of a series of endless possibilities. The laugh came again, and I felt it in my chest, as if it delighted in this strange happening.

  “Let it be so,” a voice thundered, and I was thrown back, pitched into a body of flesh and muscle.

  “Kate, Kate, speak to me.” Wan’s voice sounded odd in my ear. He was on my shoulder, tugging at my earlobe.

  Mac kneeled by my chair, one hand at my wrist, the other on my chest. I blinked at him, and took a breath, feeling so very odd.

  “What happened?” Mac demanded.

  “I don’t—” I licked my lips, and swallowed. How the hell did you explain . . . ?

  “Oh, Kate.” Wan’s voice was sorrowful. “You should not have done that.”

  What had I done?

  Itty and Bitty raced ahead of us into the house as we walked in. Mac went first. Wan was on my shoulder, alert and ready for trouble.

  Nothing had been touched. Even the computer room and Wan’s library were intact.

  “I’ll go out and cast the wards. You’ll be safe within the house.” Mac said.

  “The dogs,” I started.

  Mac nodded. “I’ll do the backyard as well.” He slipped out the sliding door.

  I turned to the kitchen, determined to make a pot of coffee. Wan stayed silent as I worked. He’d been babbling in the car, about sacred guardians and destiny, until I had a headache and Mac’s eyebrows had climbed into his hairline. I’d told Wan to shut up in no uncertain terms.

  Yes, I knew he had things to tell me, but it could damn well wait until I’d had more coffee. About a gallon should do it.

  Wan seemed to think that I’d offended the gods by my actions, but I remembered the joy in the dragon’s laugh. I might have upset the balance of things, but I don’t think he minded that much. In fact, I rather thought he’d delighted in it, truth be told.

  I offered Mac some coffee when he came back inside, but he just shook his head. “I need to contact people. Don’t leave this house until you hear from me. The possum is still out there.”

  Swell.

  Mac turned to Wan. “Guard her with your life. Whatever has happened, Kate is extraordinary now. See to her safety.”

  Wan bowed. Mac gave me a nod, and left.

  I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. Hell of a few days. I dreaded checking email and messages, but that could wait. Poor Wan was about to bust with talk, and I needed to hear it. “All right, Wan. Tell me what this all means.”

  I figure he’d bust right out, but he just jumped down to the counter and stood looking at me, his sword over his shoulder. “Kate, I thought you were extraordinary before you touched the sacred necklace.”

  I hid a smile in the rim of my mug. “So what did I do, exactly?”

  Wan drew himself up, and took a deep breath—

  Someone knocked on the front door. Itty and Bitty raced for the entryway, farting like crazy and barking their fool heads off.

  I sighed. Wan leaped for my arm, and climbed up. “Careful, Kate. The Doctor’s wards are strong but we should have a care.”

  “It’s probably the mailman.” I put the cup down, and headed for the door, only to find a small army of guys with tattoos and leathers on the other side, staring at me grimly.

  “Uh . . . ”

  “Lady, your van was found with our stolen hogs alongside I-75. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

  Uh-oh.

  THE END—or is it?

  Stalked

  KELLEY ARMSTRONG

  I had to get rid of the mutt.

  Killing him would be easiest but, unfortunately, out of the question. If Elena found out, she’d be pissed. Ten years from now, I’d still be hearing about it:
“Clay couldn’t even get through our honeymoon without killing someone.”

  She’d laugh when she said it . . . in ten years. Right now, she’d be furious.

  She’d argue there were better ways to handle the situation. I disagreed. The mutt knew we were in town and that by sticking around, he was taking his life into his hands. If he’d skittered into the shadows and stayed out of our way, I’d have said, “Fuck it,” and pretended not to notice. After all, it was my honeymoon.

  Even if he’d just stood his ground and refused to hide, I wouldn’t have made a big deal of it. Beaten the crap out of him, yes. Had to. The Law was the Law, and it stated that a non-Pack werewolf had to cede territory to a Pack one. Unfair, maybe, but if you let one mutt break the rules, the next thing you knew, they’d be camping out back at Stonehaven, knocking on the door, asking if they could use the facilities.

  But this mutt wasn’t hiding or defending his territory. He was stalking Elena. He’d been following us all morning and was now sitting across the restaurant, gaze glued to her ass as she bent over the buffet table.

  When your mate is the only female werewolf, you get used to other wolves sniffing around. I’d spent the last eighteen years dealing with it or, more often, watching her deal with it. With Elena, interference is not appreciated. She can fight her own fights, and gets snippy if I rob her of the chance. But this was our honeymoon, and damned if I was going to let this mutt spoil it. He had to be dealt with before Elena realized he was stalking her. The question was how.

  When Elena walked back to the table, the mutt had the sense to busy himself gnawing on a sparerib.

  “You okay?” she asked as she slid into her seat. “You’ve been quiet since the Arch.”

  The mutt had started following us there.

  “Just hungry. I’m fine for now.”

  “I should hope so. After three plates.” She buttered her bread, then studied me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I don’t know. . . .” I shrugged and pretended to ease back in my chair, then lunged and snagged bacon from her plate. I folded it into my mouth. “Nope, still hungry.”

  She brandished her fork. “Then get your own or—”

  I snatched another slice, too slow this time, and she stabbed the back of my hand. I yelped.

  “I warned you,” she laughed.

  The women at the next table stared in horror. Elena glanced their way. Five years ago, she would have blushed. Ten years ago, she would have found an excuse to leave. Today, she just murmured a rueful “Whoops,” and dug into her potatoes.

  I got another plate of food, avoiding the temptation to pass the mutt’s table. He’d made a point of staying downwind outside and now sat partially obscured by a pillar, too far away for his scent to carry. For now, I’d let him think he was safe, undetected.

  When I came back, Elena said, “I think I have an outing idea for us. Someone behind me in line was talking about a state park. Could be fun.” Her blue eyes glittered. Of course, we shouldn’t go during the day when there are people around.”

  “Nope, we shouldn’t.” I speared a ham slab. “This afternoon, then?”

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  When you resort to everyday activities on your honeymoon, you know, it’s not going well. Planning our second run in as many days meant Elena was bored and trying very hard not to let me know it.

  The first couple of days had been great. With two-year-old twins at home, the only time we normally got away was when our Alpha, Jeremy, sent us to track down a misbehaving mutt. Being on a mission doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves. There’s nothing like celebrating a successful hunt with sex. Or working out the frustration of a failed hunt with sex. Or dulling that edge of pre-hunt excitement with sex.

  But there was also something to be said for skipping the whole “track, capture, and maim” part and being able to go straight to a hotel room, and lock the door. Still, we could stay in there for only so long before we got restless, and when we came out, we’d discovered a problem with our honeymoon destination: there wasn’t a helluva lot to do.

  Back at the hotel, we called home and talked to the kids. Or they listened as we talked, and had their answers interpreted by Jeremy. As much as we loved our daily call, we spent most of it braced for the inevitable “Momma? Daddy? Home?” or in Kate’s case: “Momma! Daddy! Home!” Jeremy managed to spare us this time stopping as soon as Logan asked “Momma where?” and bustling them off with his visiting girlfriend, Jaime.

  Next. Jeremy and Elena would talk about the kids and discuss any new Pack or council business. Normally, I’d listen in and offer my opinion—whether they wanted it or not—but today I told Elena I was going downstairs to grab a map and a bottle of water, and took off.

  I was reasonably sure the mutt hadn’t followed us from the restaurant, but wanted to scout to be absolutely certain. We’d walked to the Arch and then to the restaurant, meaning we’d had to walk back, which gave him the opportunity to follow. A cab would have solved that, but if I’d voluntarily offered to spend time trapped in a vehicle with a stranger, Elena would have been on the phone to Jeremy, panicked that my arm was reinfected and I was sliding into delirium.

  So I’d suggested we take the long route back. The mutt hadn’t followed. Maybe he’d had second thoughts. If he’d heard the rumors about me, he’d know he could be setting himself up for a long and painful death. But if he’d believed that, he should have hightailed it the moment he crossed our path. So while I hoped, I didn’t trust.

  I grabbed a brochure on state parks, stuffed it into my back pocket, then headed out the front door to circle the hotel. I got five steps before his scent hit me. I stopped to retie my sneaker and snuck a look around.

  The bastard was right across the street. He sat on a bench facing the hotel, reading a newspaper. Cocky? Or just too young and inexperienced to know I could smell him from here?

  I straightened and shielded my eyes, as if scanning the storefronts. When I turned his way, he lifted the paper to hide his face, but slowly. Cocky. Shit.

  Normally, I’m happy to show a cocky young mutt how I earned my reputation. At that age, one good thrashing is all it takes. But damn it, this was my honeymoon.

  I crossed the road and headed into the first alley.

  There were two ways the mutt could play this, depending on why he was stalking Elena. It could be his misguided way of challenging me. Stupid—any wolf knew his mate wouldn’t lift her tail for the first younger male who sauntered her way. Only a human would fly into a jealous rage and call a man out for it. But if challenging me was his goal, he’d follow me into the alley.

  Or he might really be after Elena. He wouldn’t be the first mutt to think she might not object to a new mate.

  I walked far enough into the alley to disappear, then crept back along the wall, lost in its shadow, stopping when I could see the hotel door. After a few minutes, a car horn blasted and a figure darted through the heavy traffic. It was the mutt, heading straight for the hotel.

  I circled around the block, then came in the hotel side entrance, beside the check-in desk. I stopped there, partially hidden by a huge fake plant. The stink of the plastic fern overpowered everything else.

  I peered through the fronds. There he was, hovering at the other end of the desk, sizing up the staff. Hoping to get our room number? I stepped out. Just as he turned, a pale blond ponytail bounced past on the other side of the lobby. Elena.

  I turned away from the mutt before he realized I’d made him. I opened my mouth to hail Elena, then stopped. If she saw me, she’d head over here. Better for her to keep walking and I’d catch up outside the front doors—

  Shit. He’d walked in the front doors. His scent would still linger there, and Elena had a better sense of smell than any werewolf I knew. I started walking fast to cut her off. She caught sight of the brochure rack and veered that way.

  “Elena!”

  I yanked the park guide from my back pocket and waved it.
I moved to the left, blocking her view of the mutt. She couldn’t smell him from here, but she was in charge of the Pack’s mutt dossiers and might recognize him.

  “Got the maps,” I said. “I was looking for water. I can’t find a damn machine—”

  She directed my attention to the gift shop.

  “Shit. Okay, let’s grab one and go.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mutt watching us. Elena’s gaze traveled across the lobby, as if sensing something. I took her elbow and wheeled her toward the gift shop.

  She peeled my fingers from her arm. “I’m looking—”

  “The gift shop’s behind you.”

  “Where I just pointed. No kidding. I’m looking for the parking garage exit. I was going to say we can get a drink on the way. It’s too expensive here.”

  “Good. I mean, right. The stairs are back there, by the elevators.”

  She nodded and let me lead the way.

  The park wasn’t busy, so avoiding humans was easy. That took some of the challenge out of it, but a new place to run is always good.

  We spent most of the afternoon as wolves, exploring and playing, working up a sharp hunger for the hunt. We’d found a few deer trails, but all our tearing around scared the small herd into hiding. Probably just as well—in places like this, people pay attention to ripped-apart deer carcasses, and we’d have felt guilty later, knowing we’d nudged the line between acceptable and unacceptable risk. We settled for rabbits, the fat dull-witted sort you find in preserves with few natural predators.

  The snack was enough to still the hunger pangs without making us sleepy, so we followed it up with more games, these ones taking on an edge, the snarls sharper, the nips harder, fangs drawing blood, working up the inevitable conclusion—a fast Change back and hard, raw sex that left us scratched and bruised, happy and drowsy, stretched on the forest floor, bodies apart, feet entwined.

  I was on my back, shielding my eyes from the sun shifting through the trees, too lazy to move out of its way. Elena lay on her stomach, watching an ant crawl across her open palm.