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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Adelaide looked at field of squares. “It doesn’t look like you’ve started.”

  “I haven’t,” Annie settled down on the floor, “so you’re just in time. Take off your hoop and squat on down here.”

  “As much as that sweetens the pot...”

  Annie had already threaded a needle and thrust it in her direction. “Fine then, sit in the chair. I’m thinking the pinks and greens together and then the blues and whites.”

  Adelaide sighed and picked up a few pieces of pink and green material. “I’ve been here all of five minutes and you’ve put me to work.”

  “Right,” Annie smiled charmingly, “but just wait until you hear what I heard from one of my sources.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well.” Annie leaned forward, but kept her eyes on her quilt block. “I was told by a certain someone that Mr. Lesch will not be attending our church anymore. He’s apparently going to go into Charlestown to attend service.”

  “So?” Adelaide made a series of tiny stitches and then pulled the thread through the fabric. “He’s not the first to leave our church.”

  “Maybe not, but he’s the first to leave our church because he won’t listen to a ‘darkie loving’ preacher.”

  “Annie!” Adelaide stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  She nodded. “Well, I don’t agree with him—Mr. Lesch is a drunkard and a cheat—but who would have thought he would speak about Rev. Bates that way? And then leave in such a manner?”

  “I read in the Press today that Georgia is ready to arm the whole state.” Adelaide paused. “But it is the Press’s opinion that the President doesn’t take any of those threats seriously.”

  “It’ll all blow over.” Annie measured out an arm’s length of thread. “Have you heard Lucy’s new excuse for not leaving her bedroom?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Lucy in weeks.”

  “Oh, well, let me update you.” Annie set her quilt block down. “Apparently, she felt she had enough strength to walk downstairs for breakfast. She claims that she was immediately overcome and fell to the ground; scraping her ankle on a rough floorboard. It must have been bad enough to rip her ankle off, because our wash woman says she hasn’t gotten out of bed in almost a week.”

  “She’s nothing if not consistent.” Adelaide sighed. “What was it last time? Dysentery from tainted greens?”

  “This time she says it’s from over doing it; that she shouldn’t have taken her health for granted.” Annie shook her head. “I’ll tell you, Addy, my father would never allow this behavior to continue.”

  “She’ll eventually run out of injuries and illnesses and then she’ll throw her dead mother into it again; that she just can’t cope with losing her mother.” She hesitated. “I was the one sent her mother to the other side. That night we argued about Thomas Cooper—and argument I went on to win—as I was leaving, I just went up and did it. And I’m not sorry.”

  Annie giggled. “I’m actually quite proud of you. You know, my only regret is that I’d heard there was to be a Christmas ball at the Daingerfield manor. Now, of course, it has been cancelled due to Lucy’s ill health.”

  “Pity. I wouldn’t have been invited anyway.”

  Annie picked a fuzz off of her quilt piece. “You could have spent more time with the enchanting Mr. Cooper.”

  “Annie, I’ve already bedded him.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened, her lips twitching up into a poorly concealed smile. “When did this happen?”

  “Recently. Maybe a few times.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “How…Christ, I have so many questions. I don’t even know where to start.” Annie chewed on her bottom lip. “How do you find time to bed a man when your father is only a staircase away from you?”

  Adelaide shrugged. “That’s simple: he can see the house from the Armory grounds. He just waits until Poppa and Robert leave on business. You’ve been with a man, Annie, you know it can be done with haste.”

  “How is he?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Come on, tell me. I’m just curious about his physical attributes.”

  “His physical attributes are my concern only, but if you absolutely must know, he satisfies me. Repeatedly.”

  “When you say satisfy—“

  “No.”

  “Fine, be uptight and dull.” Annie nudged a few more squares of fabric towards her. “Besides, there are more important things to deal with: what does Robert really think about me?”

  “Robert?” Adelaide wrinkled up her nose. “I find him to be just about as enchanting as a slug. And as good a company, too.”

  “Addy!” she giggled. “That’s terrible.”

  “If you consider him material for a husband, you need to know these things,” Adelaide paused, “he makes odd noises when he sleeps.”

  Annie laughed and leaned back, dropping the quilt squares on her lap. “Oh, Addy, think about it, in the next few years we’ll be married and still sitting in this parlor, complaining about men.”

  “I’m not complaining about Thomas, I’m warning you about Robert.” Adelaide shook her head, reflecting again on Thomas’s tender touch. “He chews with his mouth open.”

  “You won’t sway me.”

  “His feet smell like the inside of a goat.”

  “Addy!”

  “I’m just trying to be helpful, Annie, these are things that you need to take into serious consideration if you’re interesting in courting Robert.” Adelaide tried to hold back her laughter, but failed. “Because courting is just the first step to bedding.”

  “Let’s go tell Lucy, just so we can see the look on her face.”

  “Annie.” Adelaide giggled. It was tempting. Every touch they’d shared, every place he’d kissed her body and caressed her with his tongue. God, she’d be furious.

  Despite the satisfaction, she wasn’t about to give Lucy the privilege of knowing what she and Thomas shared. Let the slag dream.

  Thomas was hers.

  Chapter 13

  December 1860

  ADELAIDE WAS SO transfixed on not burning the eggs that she didn’t hear her father enter the kitchen. She jumped when she noticed him out of the corner of her eye. “Poppa! Were you out this morning?”

  He smiled at her, she could tell it was forced. He had been feigning good cheer as of late, real smiles were rare. “The eggs smell delicious, Adelaide. Are they almost ready?”

  “Yes, sir.” She glanced at the thick slice of ham sizzling in the skillet. “Is something wrong, Poppa?”

  “Make sure that Sarah brings the bread to the table.” He retreated out of the kitchen, leaving Adelaide standing in stunned silence.

  The ham crackled, jolting her back to reality. She poked it experimentally with her fork—it seemed done to her. Unceremoniously, she dumped it on a serving plate. Maybe Sarah was in trouble... yes... that was it. It explained Poppa’s strange behavior perfectly. That would be a welcome turn of events.

  She carried the ham and eggs to the table and then dashed back to the kitchen to grab the potato cakes. Passing her sister in the hall, she hissed, “Don’t forget the bread.”

  Sarah’s was on her heels. “Does Poppa seem distant to you?”

  Adelaide shrugged, secretly delighted at the thought of her sister being scolded. “Maybe a little.”

  “He is always so melancholy during the holidays, do you think that’s it?”

  She shrugged again and pulled her skirts away from the stove as she leaned over. “I don’t know, Sarah. He just seemed distracted, not necessarily melancholy.”

  Her father, Rebekah, and the boys were already seated at the table when Sarah and Adelaide brought the rest of breakfast into the room. Adelaide set the plate with potato cakes on the table and then took her seat next to Robert.

  As if on cue, they all bowed their heads and folded their hands.

  Her father prayed, “Bless this oh Lord, for t
he gifts we are about to receive. For the hands that prepared it. For the strength it will provide. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Amem!” Elizabeth shrieked, from her child’s chair behind Rebekah.

  Poppa smiled. He carefully cut the ham and passed a portion to each awaiting plate. The rest of the food dishes began their slow cycle around the table.

  “Luke, pass me the butter dish.” Adelaide motioned to the glass dish beside him.

  Luke critically examined his slice of bread. “I’m not done with it.”

  “How can you not be done with it?” She asked. “You’ve buttered your bread, potato cakes, and eggs.”

  “I’m not done!”

  Poppa loudly cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you all.”

  They fell into silence.

  “The Union,” he took a deep breath, “has been dissolved. South Carolina formally seceded from the Union last night. They’re saying the South Carolinian congressmen will leave the House of Representatives today.”

  Adelaide stared at her father. She wasn’t sure which surprised her more: the fact that the Union was broken or the fact that South Carolina had meant what she said.

  Robert put his fork down for a moment and then quickly picked it up again. “Does this mean Virginia has called up troops, Poppa? Are we going to force them back in?”

  “Now, Robert, calm down.” Poppa held up his hands for silence. “This doesn’t mean anything. But I want you all to understand not everyone agrees with South Carolina. People will be split on this—just like they were with the President.”

  Adelaide stared at her plate and sighed. There were only four days until Christmas and already the spirit of the season had left her heart.

  * * *

  April 1861

  Friday the Twelfth

  “HOW MANY STATES have left the Union?”

  Adelaide glanced at her brother out of the corner of her eye. “Seven, Levi. Just as many as when you asked me last time.”

  “Which ones?”

  She inwardly groaned, but played along with him. “South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas.”

  “Which president is ours? President Jefferson or President Lincoln?”

  “President Lincoln, you know that.” Adelaide glared at him. “Why do you keep asking?”

  He shrugged his thin shoulders. “So many left at first, it seemed like there was always a new one added to the list. But, Addy, who’s right?”

  Rebekah interrupted Adelaide before she could answer him. “Why don’t we talk about more pleasant things? Addy, did Annie Frankel finish that lovely quilt?”

  “Not yet.” She kept her eyes on running the stitches of her hem relatively straight. “Annie gets distracted very easily. It’s getting there, though, last time I saw it she had all the piece work done. I think she’s sewing the backing on now.”

  “I think your brother enjoys Annie’s company.” The corners of Rebekah’s mouth perked up as she restrained her smile. “Do you think he’ll court her?”

  “I’m sure it’s in his overall plan,” Adelaide smirked. “I’m hoping Annie is smarter than that.”

  “Have you thought about courting yet, Sarah?” Rebekah exchanged a glance with Adelaide. “You’re getting to that age.”

  “Well... ah... well, there are some nice boys who attend our church. But they’re just friends; I don’t really want to court any of them.”

  “Like who?”

  Sarah avoided looking at Rebekah, so Adelaide answered for her, “She fancies David Hamilton, Tommy MacGrogan, Joseph Barry—”

  “Tommy MacGrogan is the blacksmith’s son,” Sarah broke in, “and Joseph Barry is much too old for me. Besides, he’s just... just... ehhh.”

  “Ehhh?” Adelaide glared at her sister. “Mr. Barry happens to be quite nice. I heard he writes poetry.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure history will remember Joseph Barry for his writing ability. That makes him perfect marriage material.”

  “That’s not the gentlemanly ability I’d be most interested in, if I were you.”

  Sarah stamped her foot on the ground. “Make Adelaide stop, she’s being a pest.”

  “I never said you were going to marry Joseph Barry or Tommy MacGrogan. I simply said they were friendly... you know, sharing the love of Christ.” Adelaide choked back a laugh. “You were listening during Sunday service, were you not? How we should share Christ’s love?”

  “Like you share Christ’s love with Thomas Cooper?” Sarah muttered.

  Adelaide glared at her. The last person she wanted to describe her relationship with was her stepmother—and certainly not with her brother in the room.

  But Rebekah didn’t seem to be listening. Her attention was fixed on the window.

  Adelaide looked up in time to see several men run past. Strange.

  “Did you hear shouting? “ Rebekah turned her body towards the window, nearly pressing her face to the glass. “Sarah, can you see anything from the portico?”

  Sarah put her book down and walked to the next room. After a moment, she yelled, “Just a lot of people. I hear them yelling, but I don’t know what they’re saying. Shall I go outside?”

  Another man ran back past the window, heading towards the Armory.

  Rebekah put her patch work down. “Levi, go ask Poppa what’s going on.”

  Just as Levi was getting up, the door flew open and Robert ran into the room. “The Confederates fired on Fort Sumter this morning. Old man Burns got a telegraph from his brother in Charleston. He said he can see the Federal ships out in the water—we’re at war!”

  Chapter 14

  April 1861

  Saturday the Thirteenth

  THE WAIT FOR Sarah to fall asleep was maddening. If Adelaide hadn’t known better, she’d have guessed her sister was doing it out of spite. It was worse than waiting for water to boil: it was like trying to stare down the river and will it not to rise.

  The eventual soft snores gave her slumber away. It seemed like Adelaide had been staring at her in the dark for hours.

  In one fluid motion, she slid from the mattress and to the floor, tugging her stockings and drawers up and then lacing her leather boots. Puckering her lips, she exhaled as much air from her lungs as she could and then fastened her corset; with a struggle, she shrugged on her striped dress. It probably didn’t matter what she wore. She doubted his attention was ever on her clothing.

  Securing her hair back with combs, she crept to the bedroom door and eased her cloak from the hook. Her progress down the hallway was like maneuvering through a hedge maze as she read the marvelous palace of Versailles once boasted: stepping left to right and back again, avoiding the floorboards she knew would squeal like a stuck pig. Through the kitchen, down the staircase and then—

  ––Silence.

  The Ferry Lot was still well lit, the glow of the hotel and saloons spilling out into the street. The Army put a stop to citizens loitering outside after dark, but most of the more bawdy establishments in town still catered to the vices and desires of patrons. There were still ways of getting around as long as you knew the cut-throughs and back alleys.

  From the edge of Ferry Lot, Adelaide crept along the outer border of the Armory, picking her way across the macadamized Potomac and Shenandoah Streets. The camp set up in Arsenal Square was quiet, except for a few pickets who didn’t seem as if they were paying attention to anything moving in the dark.

  Something else was out there, though. She could sense it, she could feel it watching her from somewhere; the heights above town perhaps. It thirsted for something. Craved it.

  She jammed her hand into her pocket and squeezed the watch. A delay in getting to Thomas was the last thing she wanted.

  The wind was tinged with frost, kissing her cheeks and the back of her neck as she walked. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and clutched it together at her chest. Whatever was out there didn’t feel lik
e a spirit. There was something different about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  She kept walking.

  The majority of the Armory workers lived in a compact lot spanning the banks of the Shenandoah River. Rows of houses were crammed into a small area: rundown buildings with cheap rent and no questions asked. Thomas lived in a neat little white building, where his wage allowed him to rent a room and a half: a bedroom and a utility room. He’d set up a table and small cupboard in the extra room, using them mainly for tinkering and gun work, but the top three shelves of the cupboard were filled with books.

  Adelaide smiled at the thought of her bookish Thomas. He was as vulgar and roguish as all the Armory workers were: he drank, his hands were calloused, and his muscles taut from years of manual labor. But there was a sweet side of him he only showed to her, the real Thomas Cooper. He was well educated back in Massachusetts and loved books; he loved maps and the mechanisms of gunsmithing and time spent trying to track the constellations. He was insatiable for her body and he held her, without fail, like she might crumble and fade away.

  It was too easy to lose her heart to him.

  Something in the road ahead of her caught her eye, jolting her out of her repose. It was in the center of the street, legs planted firmly underneath in a stance of defiance. It glowered at her, it stared.

  The moonlight shifted; it was gone.

  Adelaide bristled. She wanted to convince herself it was a trick of dark and light, of a shadow reflecting off the road and the window of a nearby building. But it wasn’t. It knew what she was. It was waiting.

  She dodged a pothole in the street and crossed to the other side, weaving and wandering through the alleys between buildings. His house wasn’t far now, just a little further and—

  A figure stepped out from around the corner. She bit back a scream, skidding to a stop and nearly toppling over in the process.

  “It’s me.” He yanked off his cap, his dark waves sweeping down into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry, my lovely.”