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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Why aren’t you helping?” Adelaide screamed at her and jerked Lizzie off of the floor. “Are you just going to stand there while this house burns around you?”

  She sniffled. “I can’t do it, Addy, I can’t take this anymore. I don’t want to be here.”

  Adelaide thrust Lizzie into Rebekah’s arms and, resisting the urge to slap her, hissed, “We don’t want you here either.”

  Rebekah stared at her, her mouth gaping.

  “Get out of here.” Robert raced into the bedroom and helped Sarah fold the quilt up around Rebekah’s belongings. “We’re out of time. Levi, on your way out grab that kerosene lamp from the parlor. Sarah, take these candles.”

  Adelaide grabbed her sewing basket from Sarah’s outstretched hand and ran towards the kitchen. It didn’t feel like five minutes; it didn’t feel like time should be up.

  As she was outside and racing towards the street, a horrible realization jolted through her. She had left her shoes inside.

  Adelaide turned back towards the house, nearly crashing into Levi. She handed him her basket. “Take this.”

  “You can’t go back in there.” He shrieked. “Addy, Addy, don’t! The downstairs is already on fire!”

  “I have to get my shoes.”

  She was in a daze. Back up the stairs, pushing past her sister and Rebekah as they rushed outside; yanking away from Robert as he tried to stop her—she couldn’t leave her shoes in there. She could hear Robert arguing with the soldiers outside, they must have been right behind her.

  Adelaide burst into the bedroom and grabbed her black shoes off the floor. As she straightened, her eyes landed on the window at the far side of the room. She hesitated. From her position in the doorway she could see the smokestack in the Armory. Even after having looked at that scene her whole life, it was still captivating. She remembered standing there during John Brown’s Raid and years before when they watched the Potomac River threaten to spill over into the Armory complex. The finality of it all hit her. She would never stand in this room again, never wake up in this bed.

  Her eyes flooded with tears and she stumbled back from the door, immediately slamming into someone. She jumped at the sudden impact and screamed.

  One of the Yankees from the sidewalk was standing in the hallway. He reached forward and roughly grabbed her arm, yanking her forward. “You better get out of here, Secesh, or we’ll take this house down with you in it.”

  She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and squeezed past him, clutching her shoes to her chest as she ran. He must be chasing her from behind, he had to be behind her, ready to reach out and jerk her backwards. She could almost feel his hands on her shoulders, his breath on her neck.

  But she was never touched. Bursting out the back door, Adelaide rushed down the stairs and ran as fast as she could to Robert’s side. When she turned back to look at the house, she realized that the whole Ferry Lot was burning. Every shop, every home, every respite; everything was spitting out thick black smoke and showers of sparks. Everything.

  A shudder of weakness spread across her knees and, for a moment, she thought that she might collapse. Her vision was peppered with dark blotches and shadows; she felt like her head was spinning like a top. It only took a moment for her eyes to clear, but tears now flowed freely, leaving icy streaks down her cheeks. How could the Yankees do this? What had they done to deserve it?

  “What are we going to do?” Sarah wailed. “Where are we going to live?”

  Robert vigorously rubbed his face as if he was trying to wipe away the cold and tension. “I don’t know.”

  “We can’t just stay outside.” Adelaide whimpered. “Robert, we’ll freeze.”

  “Just give me a minute, okay?” He glanced around and then heaved a large quilt wrapped bundle over his shoulder. “Here, help me move all of this into the Armory yard.”

  Adelaide dragged the cooking pot full of kitchen wares across Shenandoah Street and through the gaping entrance in the Armory gate. Robert had followed the gate to the grassy area beside the engine house where, not all that long ago, the corpses of John Brown’s raiders had been laid in their death ranks. Their blood had soaked this ground; she could almost feel them watching her, delighting in the destruction.

  Robert dumped the cloth bundle on the ground. “You’ll be safe here, for the time being.” She sank down onto the grass and stared through the gate’s iron bars as flames engulfed the Ferry Lot. Smoke billowed into the sky from the burning buildings, pouring out like water from an upturned pitcher. All she could see of the house was the upper portico, but she knew by now the flames had engulfed their living quarters. Their clothes, their books, their furniture; it was a sobering effect on her soul. She felt numb. She couldn’t bear to watch, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  Sarah dropped to her knees beside her. “Well…if nothing else, the silver is safe.”

  “We should have left with Annie when we had the chance.”

  Her sister didn’t respond.

  Adelaide rested her head against the cold bars of the gate and stared out at the Armory grounds. Piles of bricks were scattered across the open areas between buildings and in the road. There were heaps of gun barrels, heat-bent from the fires last year, rusting in the spotty sunshine next to the large workshop. It was all such a waste. The Armory had been their lifeblood, their sustenance. Now, with the buildings burned and the machinery stolen, there didn’t seem to be a chance it would ever manufacture arms again.

  As she stared at the charred buildings, the Shadow Man slithered out from a gaping doorway. He stared at her.

  The folly of man will always be death.

  * * *

  A SHORT TIME later, Robert walked back into the Armory. His pace was brisk. “I found us a place to stay. Let’s go—we take it all in one trip.”

  Adelaide could still feel the heat of the fires at Ferry Lot. Part of her was content to stay in the Armory yard; at least it was warm there. Regardless of her personal feelings, though, she struggled to her feet and grabbed as much as she could, hoisting two bundles across her back. Rebekah, true to form, carried Lizzie on her hip and nothing else.

  The walk down Shenandoah Street felt cold and unfamiliar, each footstep made with trepidation. She felt like a refugee in a strange town. The familiar buildings loomed around them, the upper windows staring blankly like empty eyes sockets. They’d watched Annie’s house burn shortly after Christmas, now all the windows of her father’s store below were broken out completely. Adelaide cast a passing glance into the inky blackness beyond the paneless doors, feeling unseen eyes boring out. For an instant, she thought she saw shifting movement in the darkness.

  There wasn’t time to stop and be sure.

  “This way.” Robert motioned up two steps and onto the wooden decking in front of what formerly were several shops. He pushed against a narrow door and disappeared inside.

  “Mr. Mathews’ grocery store?” Adelaide lingered in the doorway. “You’re not serious.”

  Robert frowned. “Mathews left town nearly two years ago. Besides, there used to be a boarding house on the second floor. There are some beds upstairs we can use.”

  It was an oddity to walk into Mr. Mathews’ store. In the past, she had only been in there a few times, when Poppa was out of some staple or another. Mr. Mathews was nice enough, with a distractingly bucked shaped head and a penchant for visiting White Hall Tavern. He had shared the interior of the store—and the rent—with a tailor. The layout was much like their father’s store, with shelves and counter tops overloaded with goods. The last time Adelaide had been in the store, every available space was crammed with goods and wares, from crowded on the floor to hanging from the ceiling. Now everything was empty. The room smelled musty and damp, like the windows had been left open and the rain allowed to seep into the wood.

  “Once we get all of this upstairs, I’ll come back down and bar the door.” Robert trudged through the sea of debris and papers scattered on the floor. “No one’s
been in here for awhile, so I don’t think we need to worry about anyone coming for it now.”

  “But if we can break in, who’s to say someone else won’t?” Adelaide muttered.

  “I didn’t break in.” Robert shoved her forward. “It’s an abandoned building. This is how war works, Adelaide. Take or be taken. Here, watch your step on these stairs. They’re steeper than the ones at home.”

  It was like a thorn in her heart to hear him mention home. They wouldn’t be going back home to the Ferry Lot again. Harpers Ferry, home that is was, seemed more like a rotting corpse.

  At the top of the stairs, a doorway led to what Adelaide assumed had been a sitting room or receiving room. Two large windows looked out over Shenandoah Street on one side of the room while a short hallway branched off to three doors. Since it had been a boarding house, she guessed there were a few bed frames in each room, that is, if they hadn’t been broken down into firewood already.

  Robert confirmed her guess. “They all have mattress ticks. I think for the time being, we should all stay in one room. It seems safer that way.”

  Sarah looked up at the ceiling. “What’s on the third floor?”

  “Three more rooms.” Robert nudged a door at the hall’s end open with his hip. “This one is the biggest room. Bring everything in here.”

  Closely following Robert, Adelaide dragged her bundles into the room and dropped them against the wall. The room was as gloomy as the rest of the building. Three beds were haphazardly shoved against the wall and a small was table overturned between the two furthest from the door. There were no windows in the room, but even from where she stood, Adelaide could see a crusted chamber pot resting in the shadows under the closest bed. The smell in the room was revolting, no doubt from the dank, moldy walls coupled with the soiled mattress ticks and filthy chamber pots.

  Robert’s eyes must have followed her gaze, as he said, “There are privies on the other side of the building, if you’d rather use them. I’ll rinse that out for you.”

  “It won’t help the smell.”

  “It will.”

  Sarah dug into the bundle from their bedroom and pulled out the bed linens. “Which bed do you want?”

  “The one farthest away from that.” she nodded towards the chamber pot. “How about the far one?”

  Sarah nodded.

  The mattress tick was horribly stained and the thought of putting their clean linens on it made Adelaide’s stomach turn. The unavoidable question of what the stains were seemed to stick in her brain; it made the bile boil in her stomach. She felt her throat constrict in a dry heave, so she quickly turned her back to the mattress and asked, “Robert, is there any place to cook in here?”

  “There’s a small cook stove downstairs.”

  “Is there a table?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  She sighed, noticing that Rebekah looked none too pleased with their accommodations. Part of Adelaide couldn’t blame her, as her opinion of the building was less than glowing, but the other half was disgusted by the very sight of her stepmother. She’d been a useless waste of space since Poppa first wed her—and he’d only done that because she was pregnant. And if sleeping in the pigsty that was their new home would make Rebekah miserable, Adelaide would spend a thousand lifetimes sleeping on that stained mattress.

  Chapter 23

  March 1862

  THE GREAT PRESIDENT, Thomas Jefferson, once described the view from the heights above Harpers Ferry as “worth a voyage across the Atlantic.” After what had happened in the past three years, that could not be further from the truth. The town of Harpers Ferry looked like a diseased corpse, the flesh half rotted away, the underlying bones exposed. Buildings were falling apart, bricks and stone littered alleyways and were shoved haphazardly from the street. The bridge across the Potomac River had been rebuilt, but the rest of town was still practically in ruins.

  Since the Armory burned, the Ferry had been practically deserted. There weren’t many people left. Most fled when the war began and it seemed only the very old, the very stubborn, and the very stupid were left behind. Everyone, regardless if a citizen or a refugee from another town, stayed indoors so it was hard to tell exactly how many people remained. All but one of their friends—Susan Hamilton—had long since left.

  Almost overnight, though, trainload after trainload of soldiers dumped into town. The Ferry was now a “Union Supply Depot” and host to literally thousands of Union soldiers. With the soldiers came something they hadn’t seen in a long time: money. Greenbacks were flying through town and Robert took advantage of it. He opened their free rooms to boarders and with the money earned from the constantly filled rooms, they were able to buy flour again. Food filled their stomachs and the stomachs of all those residing in the boarding house. It was almost…pleasant.

  With flour and sugar now available to them, Sarah and Adelaide tried to fill the shoes of a sorely missed Frederick Roeder. People—soldiers and citizens alike—always wanted to buy loaves of bread or fruit pies. They could barely keep baked goods on the shelves. Bread was the easiest to make, so they focused their attention on keeping fresh loaves constantly available.

  Adelaide perpetually felt like she was covered in flour. It gritted underneath her rolled up sleeves and along her collar. She knew each time she wiped the sweat from her face, she was getting more flour all over her body. It was worth it though, in order to earn more money for the family.

  Sarah checked the loaves currently baking in the cook stove. “These are about done, I think. Do you have the dough ready for the next batch or do you need me to help?”

  “No, I’m ready.” Adelaide pounded the tacky dough with her fist. “But you’re going to have to let those pans cool a little so the bread bakes evenly.”

  “I know.” There was a pause. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think the Stipes girls are whores.”

  Adelaide wiped her face with her apron, considering her sister’s declaration. “I’ve always thought that.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” Adelaide studied her. “You certainly must think there is something a little vulgar about the four of those women in that house. And all those men coming and going? Granted, I could be wrong, but the implications of those appearances are less than proper.”

  Sarah nodded. “They’re always impeccably dressed. All my combs are broken, yet theirs are new.”

  “Anna’s nice enough, I guess, but I think Martha and Medora are hideous.”

  Sarah giggled. “Medora is just funny looking. Her eyes are too close together, I think that’s the problem. She crochets nicely, though, I saw a scarf she made once and it was exquisite.”

  “Most everyone has a redeeming quality. Well, if they’re whores, they are in good company.” Adelaide arched her back in an attempt to ease the tension resulting from leaning over the table all day. “I’ve noticed an awful lot of those dirty women here recently. The provost licenses them, though, so they’re not going anywhere.”

  “I think there’s a house of them down the street, in one that the Armory workers used to rent.”

  “Well that narrows it down.” Adelaide muttered. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, Sarah. Almost all those houses down there were rented by Armory workers.”

  “That little white one behind the Presbyterian Church. You know which one I’m talking about. You’re just being—oh!” Sarah cut herself off. “Susan, hello!”

  Susan Hamilton swayed into the back room dressed in a dark blue cotton gown, her hoops slowly swinging from side to side like a bell. In Adelaide’s opinion, the years of the war had not been kind to Susan. Her once full cheeks were now gaunt, her eyes dull and framed by dark circles. She had become more vocal in the past few years, no longer the quiet girl of their youth. She smiled brightly at Adelaide and Sarah. “Robert said that it was okay to come back. Are you two still baking bread? That’s what you were doing last time I was here.”

  Adelaide was slightly taken a
back by the overwhelming scent of lavender that clouded the room as Susan drew closer. “It seems that’s all we ever do—well, bake bread and do laundry. If it isn’t one, it’s the other.”

  Susan laughed lightly. There was something different about her, something Adelaide couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I wanted to let you know I received a letter from David yesterday. He asked me to give you his best.”

  Susan’s countenance seemed perfect: her sandy colored hair glossy and bound back in a tight chignon. Adelaide felt like a gritty pauper next to her friend. Her work dress was soaked in sweat and covered in flour, her chignon had come loose and hung limply against her damp neck. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He fairs well, then?”

  “As well as one can expect. I don’t think that army life suits him, but he makes the best of it. Have you heard from Annie or Lucy?”

  Adelaide shook her head. “Not since the letter from Annie last month. I did hear word from Mary Roeder, though. She married a man in Maryland.”

  “I think it was partially out of desperation.” Sarah chimed in. “Her brothers and sisters are so young. She couldn’t take care of them on her own, not without a job or way to support herself.”

  Susan was visibly surprised by the news. “Mary’s just a baby herself. She’s what, all of sixteen?”

  Adelaide shrugged. “Her parents are dead. She had to do something. I can understand what drove her to it, though. I certainly never thought Sarah and I would be supporting our family by baking bread.”

  “No, you thought you’d be married to Thomas Cooper by now.” Sarah smirked. “Isn’t that right, Adelaide?”

  She felt the heat flow across her face. “Thomas Cooper seems to have forgotten about me. I haven’t received word from him since the day he left the Ferry…I don’t even know if he is of this earth anymore.” She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to keep assuming he was just busy. The reality, though, was that her heart was breaking.