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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  He opened the door, slid behind the steering wheel and pulled back his hood. His eyes reflected back when he tilted the rearview mirror down.

  At first glance they appeared normal, almost happy from the night’s events. But he knew better. Beyond their glossy surface, a hurt held their roots, changing the appearance of the world around him. Pain and darkness: those brothers went everywhere he did.

  He leaned closer, widening his eyes, searching for any sign of an abnormality. Maybe if he could find something physically wrong with himself, he'd be able to explain why he saw and felt things differently from others. But he couldn't detect any deformity, only an empty stare, as blank as the girl he’d killed.

  Albert balled up his fist and smashed the mirror, cutting his knuckle in the process. He stared at the wound as blood rose to the surface and raced down the back of his arm. The sight of it relaxed him and he slumped into the seat, thinking only of the sting on his hand. But after a few minutes the physical pain wasn't enough to block out the persistent voice that was as constant as the waves of the ocean.

  The voice spoke of being free, of never feeling pain again. It begged to be released. He moaned and clutched his head.

  A moment passed. Enough time for him to decide.

  He straightened and lifted the cover on the center console. He ignored the blood dripping off his arm and removed an almost full vial. The other night he’d only taken a few drops, just enough to leave the world behind. And nothing bad had happened. He seemed to be able to control it the more he drank. The image of Mindy, stiff and cold, came to his mind. That won’t happen again, he insisted. Prayed.

  The vial was warm in his palm and he rolled it around with his thumb. The bluish liquid rocked back and forth, back and forth. A drop of blood fell from his hand onto his lap. Just a little more to silence the brothers, pain and darkness.

  Popping the lid on the vial, he tipped it into his mouth. He intended on ingesting only a few drops, but he didn’t pull his hand back in time. All of the warm liquid rushed down the dark corridor of his throat, startling him.

  He only had time for one quick breath before a familiar pain stabbed his gut, but this time it was more intense and burned him from the inside out. His legs straightened, pushing his feet forward, and his toes curled in his shoes until he heard their joints pop. His fingers extended and his head jerked backwards, while his spine arched. His bones grinded and moved, shifted and spread. His teeth rattled, his eyes vibrated. A spectrum of colors, some he didn’t even recognize, exploded in his head.

  For a moment he thought he’d pass out from the pain, but then his eyes burst open and he sucked in air. The clock on the dashboard showed only a minute had passed.

  He leaned forward and rolled his shoulders back. He stretched his legs and wiggled his toes. Every part of him felt incredible, like a person born again. No past, no memories, no pain. The brothers were gone.

  Albert picked up a large shard of glass from the broken mirror and peered into it. He even looked better. His hair had lengthened and turned a raven black. His jaw had become more pronounced and his cheekbones sharpened. But the most startling change was in his eyes. They, too, had darkened, becoming the color of the sky before a tornado, and they were filled with as much power.

  He smiled, no longer Albert, but Gage.

  With Albert gone, he could finally relax and have fun. Gage glanced around, recalling the night's events. If he would've been in control, the concert might've been less a Nickelodeon teen fest and more of a rocking rave. But Claire had been there. That had made it worth it. He was drawn to her just like Albert, but for very different reasons.

  He brought the car's engine to life and drove in the direction of her home. He'd visited her the other night while she slept, watching her through her bedroom window. Once he'd been tempted to knock, but his appearance still resembled Albert’s. She wouldn't recognize him now, though. He laughed out loud and cranked the music.

  Gage was about to turn down Claire’s street when he suddenly had a brilliant idea, one that would really impress her. He was going to make her dreams come true.

  He drove to the outskirts of Bandon, toward a small gas station. As he passed, he noticed the empty parking lot, and through the glass windows, a single female clerk mopping the floor. He continued past until he stopped a few blocks from the gas station.

  Gage sprinted back, surprised by how little effort it took. With each breath he took, his lungs seemed to expand further than possible, and even his muscles felt like they were growing beneath his skin.

  By the time he reached the front of the station, he was ready to take on the world. He gripped the cold metal of the handle and flung open the door, making the clerk jump. Her startled reaction excited him and he moved toward her, hands clenched tight.

  The clerk backed up into a shelf as if she could sense his intentions. Wasn’t that how it was with predator and prey?

  "Can I help you?" she said. Her tiny frame shook.

  Gage noticed she was reaching behind her back, and his instincts told him that whatever she sought wasn't good. His hand thrust forward and grabbed her by the throat. "You're going to do exactly as I say, or I'll snap your neck. Do you understand?"

  When she tried to speak, he squeezed and leaned in close. “Are you going to be good?"

  She managed a nod.

  He positioned his face directly in front of hers, their noses barely touching. He whispered, "Good,” and moved his free hand to her full hips. His fingers slipped beneath her shirt and to her cold, trembling skin. He stared into her watery blue eyes, smiling as his hand slowly slid to her lower back, searching, probing, until he found what he wanted.

  "Here it is," he said, breathing hot air onto her cheek. With one clean jerk, he removed a small can of mace from a leather pouch attached to the backside of her belt. "You won't be needing this." He tossed it hard to the other side of the store, shattering a mirror on a sunglass display.

  "Now I want you to be a good girl and give me all the money you have. Can you do that?"

  She nodded again. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her makeup.

  He released his grip and shoved her toward the counter. "Hurry."

  She stumbled to the ground, gasping for air. He easily picked her up by the back of her hair. "I don't have time for this. Do it, now!” He guided her behind the counter, practically dragging her, until she faced the cash register.

  By this time her gasps for breath had turned into strange cat-like whimpers, and it was getting on his nerves. He did his best to maintain his composure. "Open it.”

  Her shaking hand pressed a few buttons until the register dinged and a drawer opened.

  "Where's the rest of it?" There looked to be only a few hundred dollars. He took it.

  Through sobs and sniffs, the girl stuttered, "The manager’s already taken today's sales to the bank."

  He kept his hand tightly around her arm. Her bone was small, and he felt certain he could crush it if he wanted to. "Well that's a problem for you, isn't it?"

  "I have some money in my purse," she said, eyes pleading.

  He tapped her forehead, making her blink. "Now you’re thinking. Where is it?" Her gaze lowered to a cupboard beneath the counter. He released her arm and bent over. "In here?"

  She nodded.

  He opened the cupboard and found it, an obnoxious multi-colored handbag. When he stood up the girl had stepped away. "Come back over here. I don't like the space between us."

  She took a step toward him, but was too slow. He reached out and once again took hold of her arm, jerking her next to him.

  "Let's see," he said as he unzipped her purse. "What do we have in here?" He dumped the contents onto the counter. Sunglasses, keys, planner, cell phone, and a wallet. Inside the wallet he found $40. He pulled it out and threw it at her face.

  "Is this all?" he shouted.

  She burst into tears.

  Gage searched the rest of her wallet, stopping only when he came
across her debit card. He looked up. Next to the door was an ATM machine. "Let's go," he said and pushed her forward.

  He swiped her card. "Enter your pin number."

  "I don't have any money," she said quickly, but her eye twitched.

  "I will ask one more time. Put in your pin number."

  When she hesitated, he grabbed the back of her head and smashed it into the front of the ATM, cracking the screen. Blood sprayed from her nose. "Enter your pin!" he shouted.

  This time she didn't hesitate. She entered the pin and then fell to her knees, sobbing. He pushed her aside and chose savings on the screen. $600. "Very good, clerk lady. Just what I need."

  Gage took out the max amount allowed, and then swiped her card two more times to try for the rest. Satisfied, he stepped over the crying woman on the freshly mopped floor and opened the door. Before he left, he deliberately turned to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling and winked. By morning, he'd be back to Albert. No one would ever catch him.

  He drove toward Claire's house. Not far from it, he veered onto a dirt road leading into the forest behind her home. The trees were thick here, an untamed wilderness where every living creature fought to exist. It was no wonder Claire’s instinct was to fight, living this close to such contention.

  Gage smiled and parked the car. In time he would unleash Claire, freeing her from life’s imprisoning emotions. He’d like that, and he sensed that she would like that too.

  He got out of the car and stretched his arms into the night, his fingers closing around the darkness. The sounds of the forest: bat wings beating in the night, spiders scurrying to catch their prey, snakes slithering from their holes, were welcoming sounds.

  After taking a moment to enjoy the surroundings, he ducked back inside the car. He would've liked to take the time to run with his night friends, but he wasn't sure how much longer he had until Albert returned. Even now he could hear him screaming inside.

  Searching through the glove box, he found an envelope containing Albert’s registration and insurance information. He dumped the papers onto the floor. On a scratch piece of paper, he scribbled a quick note and stuffed it into the envelope along with the money. He licked it shut and wrote Claire's name on the outside.

  Gage sprinted to her house, spurred on by her scent that grew stronger the closer he got. It seemed like the altered Bodian formula hadn’t just increased his strength and speed. All his senses appeared to be heightened too.

  Claire’s house was dark and quiet. He crept to her back door and peeked in. Dinner still sat on the table, one half eaten potato and scraps of a steak. Another plate sat on the opposite end of the table, the food on it left untouched.

  He crept off the deck and moved to her window. And what he discovered made him angry. A black sheet had been hung up, blocking his view inside. He took hold of the windowsill, the metal of the frame cutting into his hand. Who was she to stop him? He raised his fist to smash through the glass, but just as it was about to make contact, a sharp pain burned inside his head as if a match had been lit. Instead of smashing the glass, his hand merely smacked the window. He dropped to the ground, clutching his head, and cursing Albert, who was trying to gain control.

  "Stay out of this!" Gage growled, hoping Albert could hear him.

  Just then Claire's light flipped on. Gage darted around to the front of the house. He waited a few minutes, hoping she might come outside, but when she didn’t he tossed the envelope onto her front step.

  Claire owed him big time now. And he would make sure she returned the favor.

  Chapter 8

  CLAIRE PUSHED THE black sheet to the side of the window and peered into the darkness. Something had woken her. A sound, like glass being rattled, had echoed in her dreams, but as she looked out to the forest beyond, she saw nothing. That didn't help relieve her fears that someone had visited her again. She let the curtain fall back into place and looked at the time: 2:13 a.m.

  Just then her phone vibrated on her nightstand. She grabbed it and collapsed back into bed. Kate must have been having another sleepless night. She was an insomniac and often texted her in the middle of the night hoping Claire was awake too.

  Claire turned the phone on and was surprised to see that it wasn’t Kate but Ethan. His message read: "Looking forward to tomorrow. Ethan."

  She texted back: "Why? Are you doing something fun?"

  A second later, a message returned: "Shoot! I didn’t think you’d answer. Did I wake you?"

  Claire rolled onto her side. "No. Having a hard time sleeping."

  "Yeah. Me too."

  "So what's going on tomorrow that you're looking forward to?"

  "Some girl's going out with me."

  She smiled. "How did you manage that?"

  "Easy. I'm irresistible."

  Her smile grew. "I don't think it's your charm. She probably felt sorry for you."

  It took a minute for a text to come back. "I'll take what I can get. She's an awesome girl."

  Her face reddened. What did she say to that?

  Claire couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the compliment, so she typed back, "I'm looking forward to tomorrow too. Should be fun."

  "Sleep well," he responded.

  "Ditto." She set the phone down and shut off her light, no longer remembering why she had woken in the first place.

  * * *

  WHEN MORNING CAME, Claire woke to the sound of the local news station blaring in the living room. She swung her legs over the bed and stretched. It didn't take her long to get ready; it never did. She threw on a pair of jeans and a red t-shirt Logan had gotten her for her birthday - that and tickets to a rock concert in Portland. She added the awesome present to the “One More Thing I Owe Logan For” list.

  Claire walked into the living room. "Does the TV have to be so loud?"

  Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table dressed in her cleaning uniform eating a donut. She raised her coffee mug in a mock toast gesture. "Someone needs to wake you up, and I'd rather you hate the morning weather girl for it than me.”

  "Good plan." Claire walked past her into the kitchen. "I made dinner for you last night," she said and reached into the cupboard for a box of oatmeal.

  "I know, thanks. Sorry I was late. I went out with some friends after work."

  Claire only nodded and shook oats into a bowl. She knew it was hard for her mother to be home. Memories were like a poltergeist to her, staring at her from every shadow. Sometimes her mother left the ghosts alone, but other times she embraced them.

  “You’re mad now?” her mother asked, crossing her arms to her chest.

  Claire poured milk into her bowl and sprinkled cinnamon. "Don't worry about it."

  Her mother’s face twisted, cold and cruel. "You think I like working? Cleaning up other people's crap?"

  "Forget it, okay?" Claire knew where this fight was going. She felt her mother’s eyes follow her to the dining room table. Three. Two. One.

  "Maybe if you wouldn't spend so much time messing around in Steph's garage, you could actually get a real job and help me out," she said, smoothing back stray hairs into her tight ponytail.

  Claire didn't want to fight this early in the morning, but she couldn't help it. It was so easy to get sucked in. "I'm not messing around. If you would just hear me sing you’d know that. I'm very serious about the band and one day it's going to pay off, so lay off okay?"

  Claire’s mom stood up and went to the sink, tossing her mug into it. Claire was surprised it didn’t break.

  "That's what everybody thinks,” she said. “They all have big dreams for themselves, but then reality hits and they find themselves getting a real job like the rest of us. As soon as you get this, you can stop wasting your time."

  Shaking her head, Claire set down her spoon and pushed herself away from the table, her food barely touched. "I'm done."

  Claire’s mother placed her hands on the counter and leaned into it. "You think I'm being mean, but I'm trying to help you. Th
e real world is cruel and hard, Claire. You need to learn—”

  Claire stopped listening and instead focused on the morning news. A man in a dark blue suit was saying, "The gas station was robbed at approximately 2:00 a.m. The female clerk on duty was attacked and taken to the hospital for medical attention. The suspect is still at large."

  "Claire? Are you listening?"

  Claire waved a hand at her. "Yeah. Yeah. Give up on my dreams."

  A horn honked outside. She stood up. "That's Kate. Gotta go."

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Freshman orientation at Northwestern. Remember?”

  Claire scooped up her bag and went to the door. Her mother came out of the kitchen, face red and lines twisted into angry creases like she wanted to say more. Before she could, Claire gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day, Mom.”

  She opened and closed the front door without looking back to see her mom’s reaction. There probably wasn’t one, but one day she hoped the ghosts from her past would move on.

  It was a sunny, yet cool morning and the scent of the ocean was strong. The air chilled Claire’s skin and she almost turned back to get a jacket, but a letter on her front step caught her attention. She reached down and picked it up. Her name was scribbled on the backside.

  Claire walked to Kate’s car wondering what it could be. She opened the passenger door, only to be accosted by blaring rap music.

  "How can you stand to listen to this?" she asked and slid into the seat.

  "It's a rap day, can't you feel it?" Kate was tapping her hand on the steering wheel.

  Claire closed the door. "Can you at least turn it down?"

  Kate turned it down, just barely, and put the car in gear. "Mind if we stop to get a drink before we had out? I need some caffeine."

  Claire turned the letter over in her hand. "Sure. Whatever."

  "What's that?" Kate asked.

  "A letter. It was on my porch."

  "To you?"

  She nodded.

  "Aren't you going to open it?"