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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  "No." She shook her head furiously. "Nothing like that. I love you, William. I never want to be apart from you again."

  "Then why this story about you not getting old?"

  "Because it's true." Tears spilled onto her face.

  He stared at her, obviously trying to figure out what was going on. "Why have you never said anything about this before?"

  "I didn't want to ruin what we had."

  "This is ridiculous. There's no way it's possible."

  She sighed. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to tell him anything in the first place. The thought of mind control popped up, but she chose to ignore it. She wasn't going to use it on him, even though it would probably solve everything. She could force him to accept the truth, or forget about it altogether, but she didn't want that. As much as she didn't want him to reject her, she also didn't want his love unless it was fully from him.

  William opened his mouth, but said nothing. His parents entered the room, chatting happily.

  "Are you two ready to play a game or watch a movie?"

  "Clara's tired. I'm going to take her home." William stood, nearly knocking her off the couch. "The jet lag is really getting to her."

  "Or it could be the excitement of being engaged," said his mom.

  He ignored his parents, walking to the door without a word.

  In the car, William still didn't speak.

  "Can you say something, please?"

  He continued to stare at the road, not saying anything.

  "Will you call me tomorrow? We need to finish our conversation."

  Again, he didn't respond.

  She sighed, and stopped trying to get him to talk. When he pulled up to the Ferguson's house, he continued to stare straight ahead. He unlocked the doors with the push of a button, but didn't get out, holding the door for her, as he usually did.

  "I'll keep my phone by me in case you call."

  Silence.

  Clara swallowed. "I see you need some time to process this. I understand. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll drop whatever I'm doing. Just know that I love you more than anything."

  He turned and looked at her. "How can I believe anything you say?"

  It felt as though he had slapped her. She opened the door, and ran out, slamming it behind her. She ran to the front door at a slow, human speed without looking back. She ignored whatever was said to her when she got in the house, and went straight to her room. She didn't bother turning the light on.

  She stared out the window, noticing that his car was gone. Leaning against the wall, she looked at the night sky. This couldn't be the end of their relationship, could it? William just needed time to process what she had said, and then he would be back. He had to be.

  But then what? He would want to know why she didn't age. Would he be able to accept her being a vampire? Could he look past all the ridiculous human myths about them? She would have to plan out exactly what she was going to say so that he would hear her out.

  What she would have to do was explain the realities of her being a vampire—all the benefits. Make it sound glamorous, fun, and exciting. Have it sound so good that he would want it for himself.

  He hadn't even given her the chance to explain that she was a vampire. When she told him that she was a vampire, it wouldn't sound so bad if she made it lucrative. He would already know she didn't sleep in a coffin or anything else crazy like that—things that humans thought all vampires did. He would be open to the idea, maybe even wanting to become one himself, but at the very least, accepting her as one.

  Clara sat down at the desk, opening her laptop. It was time to take notes and get this figured out. She had all night, after all. She wouldn't need more sleep for weeks. She was going to find a way to win him back.

  Chapter 19

  WHEN WILLIAM RETURNED home, his mom met him at the door. "Is everything okay? You two didn't seem very happy when you left."

  "Like I said, she's jet lagged."

  She looked him in the eyes. "William, you're not acting yourself. I'm here if you want to talk to me. If you had a tiff, I can help. I know how girls think."

  Could she explain Clara's ridiculous story about not aging? He shook his head. "Thanks, Mom. I just need some time alone."

  "If you're sure. I hate to see you upset." She gave him a hug. "I'm here if you need me. Okay?"

  "Thanks, Mom." He gave her a weak attempt at a hug back.

  "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

  He nodded, and went for his dad's office. He was relieved to find it empty. William grabbed the album and made his way back to his room. Sitting on his bed, he opened it to the first page. Could that really be Clara? Why would she lie about it? She had never been one to mess with him.

  William held the picture as close as he could without it becoming blurry. It certainly could have been her. There was no difference between her and the girl in the picture. A sharp, stabbing pain formed on the left side of his head. He put his hand up to it, but it didn't go away. He rubbed it, and that didn't help either. The pain moved to his eye, leaving a trail of agony from the side of his head to his eye, throbbing the whole way.

  He rubbed his temples, trying to ignore the headache. He stared at the picture some more, trying to convince himself that it wasn't her. It couldn't be. People didn't live that long—people aged. Everyone did. There was no fountain of youth. It was something everyone wished for, but didn't exist.

  Hadn't he seen another picture in there that had someone who looked like Clara? He couldn't think through the sharp pains. It felt as though someone was hammering nails into the side of his head. It was too hard to think.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus. He couldn't remember if he had seen another picture with supposedly his fiancée staring at his relatives more than a century before. Rubbing his temple with one hand, he flipped through the pages. He felt like he was looking through one of those Where's Waldo books that he had liked so much as a kid.

  Where's Clara? He laughed a bitter laugh. His life had been beyond perfect an hour before. Now he had a monstrous headache and a fiancée who had claimed to have dated his great-great times-whatever grandfathers. He shook his head, feeling as though the room was closing in around him.

  He didn't see Clara, or anyone that resembled her, as he flipped through the pages. Then he got to Wiley. What had been his story? He had been one of the few black sheep of the family. That much William remembered.

  What had he done? William rubbed both of his temples, closing his eyes. The pain was making its way down to the back of his neck. Was this what a stress headache felt like? He needed a massage, but knew nothing was open at that hour. Nothing reputable, anyway.

  It was so hard to think clearly with the headache. He rubbed his neck, where the pain was the worst. Staring at the picture, he thought back to all of his lessons over the years. Wiley hadn't been taught about often. His dad was embarrassed to have him in the family line.

  William stared into the face that could have been his own, had he been willing to wear those goofy clothes. Witches—that was what had made him crazy. He had gone around town, gathering as many as he could to have some witch burned at the stake. Hadn't she been someone he had been in love with? Oh, what had been the story?

  The headache was too much. Maybe he should put the album back, and then ask his dad about Wiley in the morning. He was pretty sure he had gone around, trying to have some poor girl burned at the stake, embarrassing his entire family in the process.

  Was it possible that Clara was a witch? Had she fallen in love with him and told him her secret? What if she had cast a strange spell on him and that's why he went crazy?

  It was too much for one night. Perhaps he and his relatives just had the knack for picking girls who drove them crazy? If he had ancestors who looked just like him, it made sense that someone back then could look just like Clara too. What didn't make sense was that it had actually been her.

  He got up and took the album ba
ck to the office. His dad was sitting at the desk, going through papers. "Are you okay, son?"

  "I was just looking through this."

  "At this hour?"

  William nodded. "I was trying to get my mind off some things, but it didn't help because I have a headache."

  "I have some aspirin." He opened a drawer and dug through it, pulling out a little, white bottle. He dumped two pills into his hand, and held them out.

  "Thanks." William took them, and swallowed them without water. "Maybe tomorrow I can ask you some questions about one of the pictures in the album?"

  "Yes, of course. Get some rest first. You look like you're going to be sick."

  He nodded, and went back to his room. Could Clara actually be a witch? As crazy as it sounded, was that the only logical explanation? There was no other explanation for her not aging. Had his crazy relative actually been sane, trying to get rid of witches?

  More than anything, he wanted to believe Clara. The headache squeezed his head. When would the aspirin start working?

  William got into some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and then climbed into bed, holding his head.

  What had Clara done when they were making out earlier? She did something while kissing his neck that felt incredible. She had always been so good to him. It hurt to doubt her, but what other choice did he have? People age. Everyone. If someone didn't, they would be all over the news. Right?

  He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He wanted his head to stop hurting and for everything to go back to normal, the way it had been before Clara made her declaration.

  Dreams of his ancestors warning him about her came one after the other. He tossed and turned, feeling that they were real. After a couple hours, he sat up in a cold sweat. The headache was gone, but he didn't feel any better.

  He pulled his covers up and tried to go back to sleep. His heart ached from the sting of betrayal. Whatever the truth was, she had been hiding it from him since the day they met. Was their entire relationship a lie? Sighing, he grabbed a pillow and put it over his face.

  Would they be able to move past this? What if she really was a witch who didn't age? What did that even mean?

  The entire time they had been living together, he never suspected anything was off. Everything had been so perfect. Maybe that was the problem. He had never seriously dated before her. His parents argued from time to time. Of course, his dad was rarely home, so they didn't have much time to fight about anything.

  His friends who dated, they complained about relationship problems on a fairly regular basis. William had thought he was just lucky. The most gorgeous girl he had ever seen was in love with him, even following him across the globe as he went to school. It was possible that there was something very wrong with that. He just hadn't considered it before.

  What was he supposed to do? The look on Clara's face when he had taken her home killed him. She looked like her heart had been ripped out. Could it be true that she actually meant him no harm with the secret? He hated to think of her in pain—he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and make it all better, but he had to figure out what was going on first. And if he was going to do that, he needed some sleep.

  As difficult as it was to shut his mind up, he managed, and then he fell asleep again. That time, dreams of his relatives from the album were all dating Clara. Not just the two that held her pictures, but each and every one from the album, whether their name was William or not.

  Some laughed at him before kissing her, while others simply flaunted being with her. Wiley gave him an evil eye and then chased Clara with some kind of torch, yelling the word witch over and over. Clara looked at him, wordless, begging for help with her eyes. He just stood there, watching, as she ran from the crazy guy trying to kill her.

  When he woke up, he was exhausted. The sun was shining into his room, but the bedroom felt like a black hole.

  His stomach rumbled, but he didn't care. He had to get out of the house—and do what, he didn't know. The walls felt like they were closing in, and he needed to escape.

  Chapter 20

  CLARA SAT UP with a start and looked around. She was at the desk, in front of her laptop, which appeared to be off. Had she fallen asleep while typing? It was strange that she couldn't remember. The computer was set to turn itself off after a couple hours of no use.

  She turned her head, cracking her sore neck. Next time, she would have to sleep in the bed. The engagement ring caught her eye, and the events of the previous night flooded back into her memory. The pain from William not talking to her washed over her. She had only felt this kind of grief once before.

  The first time was when Liam had decided he would rather be with a human—Anna, that good for nothing, evil dirt bag. The other time was after he died and she knew there was no hope of ever getting him back. Had she been able to, she would have turned him into a vampire after he died, even though he had been pretty old, because she would have done anything to spend the rest of her life with him, regardless of his age.

  This time, the hurt was even more crushing, because she loved William even more. Everything had been going so well, she had somehow stupidly convinced herself that it could somehow work out with him.

  Why did she always have to fall for humans? It was no wonder vampires stayed away from them. She had always been the butt of jokes because of her penchant for choosing them. If she was unable to win William back, then once she got over him—if she ever did—she would stay away from humans for good, except to feed.

  The pain wasn't worth it. She had spent two hundred years pining away for her first love, long after he was dead. She didn't want to do that again. In fact, she wouldn't. First, she would do everything in her power to keep William. If that didn't work, then she would move on and find some vampire to love, or at least distract her, even if it was Victor. He may have been a major pain, but he did make for a good distraction.

  She was fun and attractive. In fact, she had had more than her fair share of hot vampires coming on to her. They all wanted varying levels of commitment: everything from a one night stand to a serious relationship. She never wanted a relationship with any of them, even though she wouldn't have had to explain her nature or worry about them dying after only five or six decades.

  Where was her favorite cousin when she needed her? It would do her a world of good to be able to talk everything out with Alexis. If she went to the castle where Alexis was living, she knew Alexis would welcome her with open arms. She would be more than happy to spend hours with Clara, mulling over every detail. By the time they were done bouncing ideas off each other, Clara would know what to do.

  The only problem with that plan was that she wasn't going to have anything to do with Alexis ever again, or at least for a very long time. Alexis was the reason her father was dead. Sure, her father had it coming after killing Alexis' birth parents, but at the same time, if she really wanted to, she could have spared his life. He had been her uncle, after all.

  Clara got up and looked in the mirror. She looked as horrible as she felt. She was pathetic and looked it. An orphaned human-lover. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she love her own kind? Would that really be so difficult?

  She ran a brush through her hair, but that only made her look worse. She turned her head, but then stopped. She looked just like her father at that angle. She must have taken after him. He didn't fall in love with who he was supposed to either. Not that he had been dumb enough to fall for a human, but he had given up his place on the throne to marry her mother, a common vampire.

  He had received as much grief as she had for his choice. Not many understood his choice, but he was in love, and they had spent centuries together happily enamored with each other. He was living the life he had wanted—nothing in the castle could entice him away if he couldn't bring his beloved with him. Nobody understood his decision more than Clara, but even so, look where it had gotten him. Now he was dead.

  Clara grabbed some clothes
and got a shower. After getting cleaned up, she looked a lot better. She didn't feel any better, but at least no one would know. She didn't want to talk about her problems with William to anyone.

  She went downstairs and the house was quiet. It must have been early, because Natalie and her mom were still sleeping. Jack was likely already at work, always going in as early as possible.

  Having no place to go, Clara left the house anyway. She couldn't sit around and mope. That wouldn't get her anywhere. Getting out in nature would at least clear her head. She headed for the lake. Vampires were descended from ancient Icelandic water faeries, and because of that, the water always brought clarity and serenity.

  When she got there, she went straight to the path and walked, looking at the wildlife around her. One side of the lake sat at the edge of the woods, so there were always woodland critters coming and going. After going around once, she focused her attention on the water itself, feeling better almost immediately.

  Who needed friends?

  She stopped and watched some fish jumping out of the water. Some ducks swam over, scaring the fish away. Something overhead caught her attention. She looked up to see a bald eagle flying around.

  Footsteps down the path distracted her. She looked up and froze. William was walking the path. He was far enough away that he wouldn't have been able to recognize her with his human eyes.

  Clara's stomach twisted in knots. Should she talk with him or take off before he would have a chance to recognize her? She narrowed her eyes, trying to read the expression on his face. The first thing she noticed was that he looked as though he hadn't slept. Dark circles sat under his eyes and he hadn't done anything with his beard still.

  The look on his face expressed the misery she felt. If she went up to him, would she make things even worse than they were? Or was it possible that he would hear her out after having the night to think about everything?