Paranormal After Dark: 20 Paranormal Tales of Demons, Shifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Fae, Witches, Magics, Ghosts and More

by Rebecca Hamilton

  She looked back at her body as she drifted away. Her soul’s capsule was so small and insignificant. Her skin was luminescent, glowing in the darkness. She longed to reach out and touch her face. But instead, she directed her spirit upwards, in search of the veil and the punishment for her actions.

  In the time it took to inhale once, she felt the weight of the veil upon her. Murky, bottomless, bearing down upon her soul, she pushed her way through. But as hard as she struggled, the thicker the veil became until she found herself standing outside the wall, unable to enter.

  The veil—to her—was closed.

  She tried again, pushing, digging, and giving it all she had. She searched for a weak spot in the barrier, some rift, or ripple she could enter. But there was none.

  Please, let me in. The fault was my own. She pleaded and begged, but her entreaties went unanswered. Weighed down by her sorrow, she dropped like a stone from the sky. Pain lashed her body as her spirit re-entered her human form. Snarling like a wounded animal, Rashda pulled herself to her feet. She clawed her way along the walls, jerking and screaming with the pain of her failure.

  “It is my fault. Don't you understand!” Her anger rebounded along the mountain wall. “Get back here! Come back to me!”

  Rashda gripped what was left of her resolve and held on. The end was coming, washing her away to crash on the rocks below. Her anger was directed at her Master and Mistress, but she knew was just angry with herself.

  But she was still here, wasn't she? Still confined within these walls, away from her sister and the only family she had known since leaving her home? She alone had made the decision to sing to Kali. The old song of their home was something she’d known would calm her blood. The melody always had.

  She had betrayed her Family, she had betrayed her oath. She stilled. Her anger left her and questions crept in to take its place. Had she really broken her oath? Words were spoken, yes. But the connection had only been one way. She sang, and her sister listened. And when her sister came back to her body, she answered a question, which she had overheard. There had been no loving re-connection. She had damaged nothing.

  Is this true? She projected this thought out into the etheric plane and waited... The response did not come from her Master, or her Mistress. Instead, her own instinct answered the question. She looked up to the mountain wall and realized she had made her way back to the beginning, and the end of it all—the prophecy.

  This was their pain, their loneliness. This was why she was here, and why she would remain until the very end. This was all about the child. She had to find him. She had to save him.

  A cold breath blew along her spine and her senses tingled. Something was wrong here, something was different. Power pulled at her spirit and before she had a chance to ready herself, she was dragged from her body and pulled upwards.

  She flew, pulled by an unseen force past mountains and rivers toward human houses, until she found herself drawn to one house in particular. Her soul moved through the brick and mortar, until she stood inside.

  Rashda hovered near the floor in this human house. A woman sat against the back door to the house. Her legs were pulled up against her body and she was crying. Rashda moved closer. She could feel this woman’s pain, sense her terror. But she had never been called to interfere in their lives before. Why now?

  Rashda came closer to the terrified woman. She was with child, and judging by the size of her belly, she would give birth soon. Movement to her left caught Rashda’s attention. A man entered the kitchen, moving toward the sobbing woman. At first Rashda thought he was here to help. He kneeled before her, his voice low and calm. Rashda moved closer, drawn by the woman's fear and the man’s lack of emotion.

  “Now, repeat after me. My name is Eve.”

  The woman shook her head. Her honey colored hair fluttered around her face. “Please, you have to believe me. My name is Helen. I… I don’t know any Eve.” Her face was awash with tears, the trail lined with black mascara. “I can get you money, if that's what you want? Just please, I’m begging you, don't hurt me or my baby.”

  The man’s smile was menacing. Rashda flinched. Something was very wrong here. The woman stared at him. Her voice dropped to no more than a whisper. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening to me.”

  The man lifted his hand. Rashda gasped, her soul shuddered. He jabbed the long blade at her. He flicked her hair away from her face with the tip. The woman whimpered, pulling away. But there was nowhere to go.

  “Eve!” he screamed. The woman cringed, appearing determined to draw her swollen body into the wall.

  He turned the blade over and ran the tip down her cheek, digging into the soft flesh. “Eve.”

  The woman whimpered. She clutched her stomach with one hand and reached for her face with the other. Blood welled between her fingers, running over her hand like thick, red rings with rubies that leaked to drip onto the floor.

  Her attacker raised the knife to his mouth, sliding the blade along his tongue before spitting. “Fucking tainted blood.”

  No! Rashda’s soul cried. She felt her body, back in the mountain, cry out the same denial and raise a hand in defense for this woman. But this horror was far from anything her flesh and bones could stop. She wanted to flee. To tear her spirit away from the horror which she was sure would come. But something stopped her.

  Rashda hoped that some higher power would intervene. Please, show this human woman some mercy, Mistress. Someone loved her. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s love. And if allowed to live, she would be someone’s mother. Rashda waited for her prayer to be answered. Waited, while the knife rose in one fluid arc. Waited, as her attacker’s last command was given, filling Rashda with dread.

  “Say the words. Say. My. Name. Is. Eve!” He gripped the knife with one hand and enclosed his fist around the blade, drawing his flesh down, slicing deep. The woman cried out, moving beneath him and he hit her with his torn hand. Tiny drops of blood flew through the air toward Rashda, splattering on her spirit self. She reached up, wiping the cruor from her face and trailing her fingers across her lips. Her tongue snaked out drawing the essence of this murderer’s into her mouth. Her eyes widened, No…

  His body shook as he loomed above the small woman. But he held the knife steadily. With a laden heart Rashda understood there would be no savior, no one to protect this woman in her darkest hour. There was no one here but her spirit self. This killer’s hand was far too practiced for her prayer to be answered. And as this murderer’s blood became part of her soul, she was slammed with a row of images, and she knew this was no ordinary evil.

  Pictures scrolled through her mind, a montage too cruel for Rashda to hold on to. But these images held onto her. Bodies lay out before her. Tiny red ringlets which were once blonde, now clumped, rusted, and broken. Little hands outstretched and trembling, as life was snatched away. Before Rashda was able to understand one from the other, they changed. Bodies torn, bleeding and crying. Begging to go home. Screaming their last pleas around the grunts of this killer and the weapon made of tempered steel.

  “Mistress, have mercy.” Rashda cried as the woman before her screamed. Rashda’s soul fell to the ground, dragged down by the depths of despair.

  Insight struck like lightning and Rashda realized with blinding clarity why she was here. Why she could not leave this human woman. Rashda moved her spirit to kneel beside the woman and breathed deep.

  Her spirit calmed. The panic retreated, although the burden still remained. She was not sent here to save this woman, and this moment was not a glimpse of the future. This was happening here. This was happening now. All Rashda could do was help her transition to the next plane, along with her unborn child.

  He was not just a killer, this man. No… he was a destroyer of innocent souls. Rashda lifted her head. Her spirit saw him now for what he really was. Those were not just images—they were his memories.

  His soul was blacker than any other she had known, and she had k
nown more than a few in her time. His time on Earth was limited, no matter that he was now dressed as an immortal. His was a false immortality. His being was insignificant to her. She knew where souls like his were headed. Her soul quaked with the knowledge of what his spirit was to endure.

  Humans called it Hell. But Rashda knew better. She knew Hell was no more than a figment in a mortal's imagination. The book humans called The Holy Bible was used as a syphon for power and money. The reality was not one of fire and flames with a horned leader at the helm. Hell was so much worse.

  A soul's pain and torture wasn't endured at the hands of another... that would be too easy. The darkness was endured from one's own cruel soul in a never-ending cycle of one's terrible existence. Rashda looked upon this murderer, this abomination. She knew this cycle had already begun. All that was needed was the removal from this world.

  “I'm coming for you, blonde bitch,” the murderer breathed. Then his knife slashed through the air. The sweep of the blade ended before Rashda realized it had started. Silence now filled the void.

  Rashda moved closer to the mother who would never hold her babe. “I’m here for you.” There was nothing her spirit for could do to stop this barbarity. The woman’s blood spilled across the floor, she screamed and clutched her stomach as the knife re-entered. Rashda kneeled over her. “I am here, child. Look at me.”

  The woman bucked with the blows of his knife. Rashda watched helplessly as this woman was jerked forward, dragged by her feet and splayed out along the tiled floor. His sharp knife dug into her flesh, cutting her panties and bra away.

  Rashda concentrated on the dying female, touching her face, drawing her away from the degradation of her body. This was why she had been sent here, to witness this atrocity. And she now understood why.

  This was the monster sent to kill Azrael and the woman who bore him. A name came to her. Eve. This was not her, only one of many he had killed in his pursuit. Eve was the woman this monster searched for, the one he desired—the one he must never find.

  Rashda cradled Helen’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes. In this moment, the murderer was of no consequence. Rashda poured her love and compassion through this human’s eyes and into her very soul. It wouldn't be long before she would shed the confines of her mortal body. The blood drained from the woman’s face. Her lips faded to ash and her labored breaths eased, while her body was thrust back and forward. The motion might have hypnotized this woman, if not for the terror involved.

  “Come to me now. I am here to guide you. Leave this world with me. Your oasis beckons.” Rashda held the terrified woman’s gaze with her own, waiting, watching for the moment when she could do what her own spirit demanded, and ease this human’s pain.

  The woman’s eyes opened wide and rolled back in her head. The whites were cracked and stained with blood. The sickening thump of steel hitting flesh caused Rashda’s spirit to fade. She held onto what strength she had. This woman needed her and this is why she was here, to ferry her to somewhere she would find peace. Grunts and groans filled the air while he rode this woman. The motion became harder, faster, slaps of skin on skin built to a brutal peak. Rashda reached forward and wrapped her arms around this sad, scared, sacrificial lamb. She held her tight and as she felt this woman’s silver cord break she carried her skyward.

  A sense of connection caused Rashda look back. Not to the horror of what this mortal had endured, but to a man who walked up to the house and knocked on the door. His name came to her instantly. Adley Scott, the guardian. Rashda was torn between a sense of duty to this woman and the need to protect the detective. She turned her gaze to the spirit of this woman and her child in her arms and knew what she had to do. Rashda prayed to the Mistress to protect the detective and headed for the stars.

  The woman’s soul sighed in her arms. Her brutalized, mortal body was now left far behind. Rashda looked down at her and smiled. The woman’s gaze widened and she whispered. “My God. You’re beautiful.”

  Chapter 25

  Grimm

  “RASHDA CAME TO you? A human?”

  Jinx voiced the words racing through Grimm's mind. The implications took hold. There must’ve been a reason this human was visited by the immortal, a good reason, but why?

  “What did she say to you? What did my sister say?” Kali pulled herself upright.

  Grimm made no move to help her. She wouldn't have allowed it anyway. They stood there, stunned, and waited for the human to answer.

  “I... can't really remember for sure. But what I do remember was how complete I felt when she was near me. Like I had found a piece of myself I’d lost. You know what I mean?”

  Kali gripped the bench. Grimm could see she was shaking, barely holding it together. He stared into her eyes and saw something he never expected to see. A tear slid down her face. One lone drop hovered on the edge of her jaw for what seemed like eternity until it let go, before she answered. “I used to.”

  They were speechless, holding on to the moment out of respect, love, and sacrifice. Grimm suddenly realized the phone was quiet now. The beautiful voice was gone. “What now?” The human turned to him, acting like he thought he was now a member of this group of lone rangers. But that wasn’t how this worked. Mortals were on one side and the Family on the other. The line had been drawn a long time ago. There was no going back.

  “Now, you go back to your life and we clean this mess up,” answered Kali.

  Grimm and Jinx moved toward the partition. The only evidence left of their wounds now was their torn, bloody clothes, which matched weary expressions.

  The man shook his head, looking at them. “I don't think I can do that, not now.”

  “You don't have a choice.” Her answer was cold and blunt, allowing her to slip back into the persona of controlled Kali once more. For a moment, Grimm wished her other side would stay a while. He was fond of her.

  The argument continued. The human was a tenacious son-of-a-bitch, Grimm would give him that. “But, I do have a choice in this.”

  Grimm could see his problem. The guy was caught somewhere in the middle, having some sense of knowing, yet unable to know it all.

  Kali reacted before he had a chance to stop her—and then he was too afraid to.

  “You human. Do you not see this?” Her fragile voice hovered on the cusp of a scream. “This is who we are.”

  She pointed to the pile of dead vamps as she grabbed his shirt and jerked him close to her. The human’s eyes widened as he backed toward the partition door. Grimm could hear his breath catch. The dude looked like he was about to bolt. Grimm’s heart pounded inside his chest. He had to save the poor bastard somehow… but fuck.

  “We are death to you, human. Live your life while you still can, and forget we ever existed.”

  She let his shirt go and stood there. Her dark eyes now seemed wounded. In this moment Kali didn’t look fearful. She looked lost. Her pain mirrored his. He’d never seen her like this before. She’d always been unwavering, undefeatable—the one who’d be left standing when this all went to hell.

  Grimm stepped toward the tiny immortal. For once, she let him hold her. He could feel her body trembling and he held her tighter, pressing her harder against him. Her head nestled against his chest. Her glistening black hair was all he could see. And the simple connection was enough. Enough to know she was here, enough to know that a small part of her felt the same as he did.

  “I want my sister.”

  Her words were whispered into the muscles of his chest, her breath warm and moist, sticking what was left of the hideous pink shirt against his skin. He stared over the top of her head and into the human’s eyes.

  The members of the Family were trapped in this battle, until the end of time. Unable to go on, and unable to go back the way they came. Fighting and killing for something they didn't understand themselves. While inside they remain damaged... broken.

  “You were saved for an important reason, human.” Grimm held his gaze. “Find out w
hat that reason is. Search within yourself for the answers, for all of our sakes. Rashda came to you. She’s shown you the way. Now it’s up to you to find the strength to walk the path.”

  The human’s brown hair was splattered with blood, Grimm saw it glisten in the overhead light as he nodded, then opened the door. He stopped before he disappeared and glanced back over his shoulder. “My name’s Sebastian. I just wanted you to know.” He stepped out of the compartment, leaving them alone.

  “Get off me lycan.” Kali growled against him.

  He stepped away, giving her what she wanted, but he knew being alone wasn’t what she needed. She smoothed her hair, pulling out her prayer beads in one hand while the other reached around her back to touch her blade. Beads and a blade saved her, in one way or another.

  “Kali and I will get this cleaned up. Jinx, you go out and deal with the humans.” Grimm motioned toward the door.

  Jinx nodded and left them. Grimm glimpsed Kali reach behind her back and Grimm took a small step back. He didn’t want to be in swinging distance. He suspected Kali’s white death was the only weapon in this world that would end every immortal in this world. There weren’t a lot of weapons they could bring onto the plane, so they had to travel light. Grimm turned away, but couldn’t resist a last look over his shoulder, his spirit aching for her. Seemed they didn’t need weapons anyway.

  He gently turned over the dead army vamp and eased off the black webbing attached to the bomb. His hands shook as he opened a black carry-on and placed the device into the bag. He’d set the timer once he was sure there was no one left on the plane, destroying what evidence remained. The two air hostesses lay crumpled on the ground, their throats savaged and their bodies torn. A feeling of defeat crept up on him, surprising him with a stab to the heart.

  Kali’s blade found their hearts and as the edge punctured through their flesh, their bodies shriveled and turned white before they crumbled and disappeared into a small pile of ash.