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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “We do what we can to survive.” Susan said simply. “I certainly don’t see anything wrong with that.”

  Adelaide piled fresh, warm loaves of bread into a cloth lined basket. Keep busy. “We’re doing the best we can. Do pardon me for one moment. I’ll be right back, I just need to take this out to Robert.”

  There was something about Susan that didn’t sit well with her; a look in her eyes that wore away at Adelaide’s soul. She wasn’t certain of what it was, but there was something wrong. Something different that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

  Robert was tacking a new price list on the wall next to the door. “Oh, good, you have more bread. I was starting to think maybe you ate it all.”

  Adelaide wrinkled her nose. “I should be so lucky to be you, to only sell the bread, not slave away up to my elbows in dough.”

  Robert arranged the bread loaves on the shelf behind the counter. “Get used to it. We’re going to need more than this if you want to get through the rest of the week.”

  She sighed. There was always something.

  When she walked back into the back room, Susan and Sarah looked startled, almost as if they weren’t expecting her to interrupt their conversation so soon. Ignoring it, Adelaide dumped some flour into the cooled loaf pans and said, “Get ready to mix up some more dough, Sarah.” Her mind raced. What could possibly be so important—or horrible—that her sister excluded her from knowing?

  Sarah rolled her eyes, a trait Adelaide was certain she picked up from her. “He’s never satisfied.”

  “If nothing else, dear friends, at least it’s warm in here.” Susan smiled. “At any rate, do you have any more fruit pies left? I’ve taken on some more work and have some extra money this week. I thought I would spend it on myself.”

  “I think there may be a few apple pies left.” Sarah peered into the main room, as if she could see the pies lined up on the counter from across the store. “But I imagine the price is expensive, since it costs us so much to get the apples.”

  Susan waved her hand dismissively. “Money isn’t a problem. It is always so nice to see you two, especially since so many have left the Ferry in the past few years. I shall visit later in the week…perhaps when you’re less busy.”

  Adelaide nodded. “Of course. Though, finding a time when we are less busy will be difficult.” As she mixed the next batch of bread dough, she watched Susan, pie in hand, sashay from the store, the door almost closing on her skirts. Without looking at Sarah, she commented, “Do you find it odd she isn’t struggling for money? What employment could she have that pays so well?”

  Sarah shrugged. “She seems the same to me.”

  It was a blatant and obvious lie. Adelaide wasn’t sure what was going on with Sarah and Susan. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  * * *

  AS SPRING BEGAN to settle over the Ferry, they gradually fell into a groove. The family was by no means well off, but they managed and lacked no necessities. They steadily earned enough money from the boarders and the sale of baked goods to keep food on the table. There wasn’t quite enough, however, to reopen as a dry goods store. They were only able to sell what could be made.

  There was no money for gifts on Adelaide’s twenty-first birthday. Sarah cooked a simple dinner of warm bread and potato stew, and afterwards they were entertained by a fine performance by Levi and Lizzie. Levi played several different roles for her enjoyment, including President Davis, General Lee, and the scoundrel Turner Ashby. Lizzie, although she was only two years and did not have much command of language, was rather masterful as Abraham Lincoln. Adelaide thought the realism was striking.

  Perhaps the best portion of the night, though, was the fact that Rebekah left her alone. The moment she finished eating, she retired to her private bedroom, citing a headache and a desire to sleep it off. She always felt “the children” should do all the work while she rested so, of course, Adelaide knew better. On this day, she felt it was the best gift anyone could have given.

  “At least let me help you clean up.” Adelaide tied her pinner apron around her waist and pinned the top below her collar. “I feel bad watching you do all the work.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, you just sit there and suffer through it. It’s my gift to you and you know I’m not usually this nice of a person.”

  Adelaide laughed. “Sure you are.”

  Her sister wetted a cloth and began wiping down the table. There was silence for a moment and then she said quietly, “I wanted to get you something.”

  Adelaide watched Robert through the doorway as he tried to teach Lizzie how to hold a broom. It wasn’t working, a fact which was making Levi double over in laughter. “I know, Sarah. It’s okay, really it is. It was a very nice evening—the only thing that could have made it better would be to have had Luke here.”

  She hesitated, her back still to Adelaide. “Susan gave me an idea how to make money.”

  “Susan isn’t known for her brilliant ideas.”

  Sarah abruptly fell silent, seemingly lost in the clattering and clanking of dishes. Finally, she continued, “But the idea made sense. I just…I couldn’t…”

  Adelaide turned in her chair and stared at her sister. “Sarah, what are trying to say?”

  She faced her, her eyes filling with tears. “You were right about Susan, Addy, she’s whoring herself out to the soldiers for money. Some of them give her good money, presents even. One officer sent her a whole bottle of perfume. She said it was from Paris, but I saw the bottle and I think it’s just from Martinsburg.” Her words were coming out in a jumble, hurried and rushed like she had uncorked a bottle brimming with pressure. “She showed me the money she’s made and told me what to do…she even found a soldier to do it with. Some Pennsylvania boy, he gave her the money and took us down to the engine house. She waited outside and I went in with him.”

  Adelaide’s stomach lurched. She expectantly twisted her apron in both hands; she didn’t want to hear anymore.

  “I tried, Addy, I really tried. He was very nice about it, told me how pretty I was and how long he had been away from home. But, oh, how he smelled. He smelled awful and his uniform was disgusting. I didn’t even want him to touch me. So, I ran. I ran outside the engine house and Susan called me a coward. But I couldn’t do it. I ran all the way back here. I’m sorry, Addy, I really wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, but—”

  Adelaide jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Sarah. “No. I don’t want you to sink to that. Everything is fine the way it is, don’t worry about silly birthdays. Promise me, Sarah, promise me you’ll never do it again. Be with a man because you want him, not because you want paid for it.”

  She furiously nodded her head. Her face was buried against Adelaide’s shoulder, so her sobs were muffled enough not to be noticed in the other room.

  Adelaide was stunned. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Susan had turned to whoring, now she wanted to drag Sarah down with her.

  * * *

  “I HAVE MORE bread for you, Robert. Is there room on the shelf?”

  He took the basket from her and set it on the counter. “There’s always room, especially with how loose these Yanks seem to be with their greenbacks.”

  Adelaide poked a finger through a hole in her apron and wiggled it. That would need fixing. “I wonder why?”

  He shrugged. “Yanks in Tennessee whooped the Reb Army a few days ago. The news just got up here today; some place called Shiloh or something like that.”

  “What a funny name for a town.” She tried to keep her tone even, but her heart launched into a rapid cadence. The scourge. They were coming.

  “Whatever it is, it must have been big because I heard the Tavern is having trouble keeping glasses filled.” He handed the empty basket back to her. “Maybe you could make a few extra pies today, too. I’m willing to wager we could sell them easily.”

  “We have a few cans of peaches left. I may be able to make them into pies.” Adelaide pause
d. “I haven’t actually used canned fruit to makes pies before, so I can’t guarantee they’ll be any good. I’ll try though.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Robert shifted a few apples towards the center of the counter. “If they’re good, maybe I’ll buy a few more cans. I’ve heard they’ll last indefinitely and it would be great to have fruit on hand when it starts getting cold.”

  “We’re not even in the summer months yet and you’re already thinking of winter? Why, sometimes I think—” she stopped short, staring as Susan Hamilton approached the store. Adelaide hoped at the last minute she would veer off course and continue down the street, but she didn’t. She pushed the door open and flounced inside.

  “Hello, Addy.” She smiled coyly, fluttering her eyelashes at Robert. “And hello to you, sir.”

  There was the overwhelming smell of lavender again. Adelaide studied her closely, trying to see some physical difference between herself and her friend. Something in the way she carried herself or something in the way she dressed. Other than the drawn face and sunken eyes, she looked no different than she had since they were girls in the Ladies Society. Or when they’d stalked spirits together, like when they’d crouched in the shadows on Virginius Island: waiting for the soul of a crushed man to stumble from a factory building. Susan wasn’t that girl anymore.

  “What can I help you with today, Miss Hamilton?” Robert asked. “Or are you here to call on my sisters?”

  Susan smiled at him, a smile so sweet it made Adelaide’s stomach lurch. Before she had an opportunity to utter one false word, Adelaide rounded the counter. “No, you’re not welcome here. Get out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” Adelaide opened the door to the store and pointed outside. “I want you out of the store this instant.”

  Susan looked confused, her brow knitted in a deep frown. She took a few steps towards the open door. “What’s the matter with you, Addy?”

  “I know what you are.” Adelaide hissed. “I want you to stay away from my sister—and my brothers. We were friends, Susan. We were the Six.”

  “You still believe in childish games, Addy?”

  “It’s not a game.”

  “I’ve moved on to more adult business.” Susan pursed her lips together and raised her eyebrows. “I thought you would have by now, especially with how you carried on with Thomas Cooper. If he were here now, I’d be curious to see who he’d want: a girl who still believes in fairytales or a confident woman.”

  Adelaide balled her fists at her side, digging her fingernails into the tender flesh of her palm. “You aren’t welcome here; your kind aren’t welcome.”

  Susan looked taken aback for a moment and then narrowed her eyes. The corners of her mouth tightened; the grimace making her look even older. “If that’s how it has to be.”

  “It is.”

  Without another look, Susan flounced out the door and slammed it shut behind her.

  There was a finality to it. Good, let her go. If she considered the task of spirit stalking a game, then she was a danger to Adelaide and Sarah. It wasn’t a joke—it was staring death in the face and choosing to do their duty anyway.

  When she turned around, Robert was staring at her. “What just happened?”

  “She,” Adelaide jerked her thumb towards the door, “is selling herself for money.”

  He did little to conceal his surprise. “A whore?”

  “She tried to talk Sarah into doing the same. I can’t believe Susan—of all people—would sink to that level. Remember when she was so frightened the year we had the temperance march and she refused to leave Lucy Daingerfield’s house? Now she’s whoring?”

  “Her brother’s off fighting the war, her father is lame, and she’s the oldest of five girls.” Robert shrugged. “What else could she do?”

  “You condone it?”

  “No, but I can see where she thought she had to do it.” He paused. “Unless she likes it.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “She might, it’s not out of the question.” He smirked. “I know how you carried on with Thomas Cooper. Lord knows what you two did together when he got you alone in Poppa’s old store or back behind the Armory.”

  “Which is none of your business.”

  “You must enjoy it if you were willing to sneak out at night to be with him.” He laughed, no doubt at what she was sure was a horrified expression on her face. “Well, I like it.”

  “Robert.” Adelaide rushed to his side, ignoring how inappropriate their conversation was, and grabbed his coat sleeve. “Who have you been with?”

  He looked smug. “I’m not telling you. It is none of your business—sound familiar? Hurts when it’s thrown back in your face, eh?”

  “Come on, you must tell me.” She pleaded. “It was Annie Frankel, wasn’t it? You and Annie Frankel.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Well, as long as it wasn’t Susan or one of those vile Stipes girls.” Adelaide thought for a moment. “I still say you should tell me.”

  “And I still say it’s none of your business. Unless you’d like to give me a list of those you’ve been with.”

  “It was Annie. That confirms it.”

  They both dissolved into laughter, but quieted down considerably at the sound of footsteps on the floorboards above. The pace seemed odd, as it wasn’t an even left followed by right followed by left. It was halting. It dragged.

  The pocket watch burned against Adelaide’s thigh.

  She stood up abruptly, knocking a stack of advertisements off the counter. “I’ll check on her. Is…ah…is Lizzie up there?”

  “No, Sarah and Levi took her down to see the MacGrogan’s baby chickens. Why?”

  “No reason.” Adelaide forced herself to walk at a relaxed pace to the back of the store. Once she was out of her brother’s line of sight, though, she yanked her watch out of her pocket and broke into a run. She took the stairs two at a time; she wanted to be wrong. She didn’t want to see what was up there.

  She almost crashed into it.

  A wraith hovered in the sitting room, fumbling around the doors as if it was looking for a way out. The creature was still fresh, still recognizable.

  It was Rebekah.

  “Shit.” Adelaide stumbled backward, almost falling onto the couch, and slammed against the wall. The apparition didn’t seem as if it noticed her at first, its attention still focused on the boarding room doors. How had this happened? The slag wasn’t sick or hurt, she was just a pompous bitch.

  “Adelaide?” Robert was calling for her downstairs. “Is everything okay?”

  The spirit turned, staggering across the room. It had heard Robert’s voice.

  She thrust the watch towards it. “I know it’s you, Rebekah. You’re dead.”

  It stopped walking, its body turning to her voice. The head flopped forward at an ugly angle, the neck seemingly attached to the skull by a few sinews and veins. It snarled, taking a halting step towards her.

  “I hated you in life. I won’t mourn you in death.” Adelaide jammed her finger to the clasp, the watch face flinging open.

  Nothing happened.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and flipped the watch over. It was running backwards, as it always did, but the light wasn’t emitting from the face. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The creature swung at her, bladelike fingernails swiping at her face. Adelaide threw herself to the side, rolling and tumbling in a mass of skirts, and out of the spirit’s reach. She struggled to her feet. “This isn’t possible.”

  It turned to follow her, already gaining endurance and agility.

  “Is she okay, Adelaide? What’s going on?” Robert’s voice was getting closer, she could hear his footstep on the stairs.

  The creature stopped, again drawn by his voice. It writhed around, jerking its body in the other direction, and made a beeline for the sitting room door.

  Adelaide had to think fast, she could only do the first thing tha
t came to mind. In one smooth movement, she smashed a vase of flowers against the side table and sliced a glass shard across her open palm. She bit back a shriek, instead centering her pain on the gash, squeezing her hand into a fist to increase the blood flow.

  She held her palm out to the wraith.

  It smelled her blood instantly, stopping in the doorway. Slithering backward, it was like a cat on the prowl for a mouse: slowly stepping from side to side, adjusting its movements as Adelaide crept to the door. She knew she only had one chance—and she had no idea if it was going to work.

  She broke into a run, throwing herself at Sarah’s bedroom door and pushing inside. A bundle of sage was right where her sister had left it—on her pillow—and Adelaide grabbed it, again bolting out the door and around the creature. It hadn’t anticipated any of her movements, it lagged behind; still fixated on the scent of her blood.

  Running into her bedroom, she dropped her watch and the sage on the bed, instead snatching up a small container of matches. She struck one.

  It fizzled out.

  Marked. The creature lurched into the room, its cataract clouded eyes focused on her. This soul is marked and cannot be sent to the other side.

  Adelaide struck another match, pressing it to the sage. It didn’t light either, she cursed. “All souls can go to the other side, they all have a choice.”

  Not those taken.

  There was one match left. Adelaide grabbed her watch and held it out, pressing her finger to the clasp. The face swung open; the creature took a step back. “How can a soul be taken?”

  The creature stared at her, moving from left to right to try and avoid direct exposure to the watch. It seemed like it was pushing it away, but it wasn’t emitting light like it should. Why—because the creature was marked?