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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  * * *

  "I KNOW WHY you did it, but it was still stupid," Chase lectured as we walked into the nearest town. I yawned, ignoring his words since my milk brother's scent only held a hint of worry nearly hidden beneath the dominant flavor of contented excitement. Chase had asked Tia if we could skip school today to pick up some supplies in town, and my foster mother had agreed, mostly because she was worried about the repercussions of my schoolyard chivalry the day before. But, despite his lecture, Chase wasn't actually all that concerned about my past actions, so I just rubbed my head up against his trailing hand and broke into a trot as the nearest houses came into view.

  It took me a full minute to realize that my brother was yelling after me rather than following in my wake. Chase had often said that one of the worst things about bloodlings is that they had a hard time focusing on human speech. But who really cared about all those words? My brother had already wasted the entire forty-minute walk rambling on about the previous day's events, when it all boiled down to emotions I could pick up with one sniff. In my opinion, it was the "normal" werewolves who were handicapped, since they required decades to begin understanding the wolf brain, if they ever even made that mental leap. Plus, as Justin knew, a normal werewolf teenager was no match for a bloodling of any age.

  "You stupid wolf!" my milk brother finished. I finally squashed my wolf brain enough to parse what Chase was saying, and the words made me laugh, lolling my tongue out the side of my mouth. Despite Chase's speech, his scent was full of fondness, with just a hint of exasperation underneath. Oh right, I remembered as I wracked my brain to figure out why he would be upset at me this time. The leash law.

  "You know, you could just change into human form, and then this farce would be unnecessary," Chase grumbled, snapping a collar and leash around my neck. The collar itched, and I dropped into a crouch so I could scratch the annoying band of cloth until it lay in a better position atop my ruff. Despite the tickling sensation, though, I ignored my blood brother's advice and stayed wolf. Even though Chase refused to acknowledge the fact, I did better around people in canine form. A fact that was confirmed by the old lady who greeted us as we walked down Main Street.

  "Chase and Wolfie!" Mrs. Tiller exclaimed happily, pulling a dog biscuit out of her purse for me and gracing my brother with a smile. I dropped into a sit and raised one paw, gently tapping it against her knee. The lady responded by laughing merrily, then watched with satisfaction as I chomped down the treat. "I'm so glad you brought your dog instead of your cousin today," she confided to my milk brother. "That boy was a little odd, don't you think? Autistic, maybe?"

  Chase's cheeks turned red, and embarrassment rolled off him in an overwhelming wave. My kind-hearted brother was unhappy that I'd heard the lady's words, but the truth was that I agreed with everything she'd said. Mrs. Tiller and I got along just fine when I was a wolf-pretending-to-be-a-lapdog. Not so much when I was a wolf-pretending-to-be-a-boy.

  Before Chase could put his foot in his mouth in a misplaced effort to protect me, though, we heard the clopping of horse hooves on the pavement and turned in tandem to peer behind us. Our werewolf pack used the illusion of being Amish...or maybe a low-key cult—we didn't specify...to keep outsiders at bay, and the buggy rolling toward us was another aspect of that illusion. My father kept a car in his garage for the rare occasions when long-distance travel was necessary, but for the most part we used horses to get around. Youngsters like us rode shank's mare.

  Rare as it was, you'd think a lift home would have been a treat, but Chase and I eyed each other with worry, knowing that the presence of a buggy meant that one or both of us was in trouble. And Mrs. Tiller agreed with the assessment. "I hope you didn't do anything terrible," she said to Chase with a mischievous grin, then simply laughed when my brother assured her that it was Wolfie who was in the virtual dog house. The old woman thought Chase was joking, but my blood brother and I were well aware who the buggy had come for.

  As Mrs. Tiller said her farewells, the buggy pulled up to the curb beside us, and I was glad to see that my favorite uncle was the one who would fetch me home. The same man who'd helped save my life years ago still walked the fine line between obeying his alpha and following his heart, and I imagined that Uncle Oscar had volunteered to pick me up today so the truly painful part of the afternoon could be put off until after my arrival. Wordlessly, I shot Chase a goodbye tail wag and jumped into the buggy to face the music.

  * * *

  MY TRAILING LEASH caught on something and jerked me to a halt as I entered the alpha's sitting room, where I was to wait for his attention. Oh, wait, my leash hadn't caught on something...it had caught on someone.

  "A leash?" my blood brother laughed, yanking my head around to face him. "Really?"

  I could have kicked myself for not remembering the stupid restraint earlier, but Chase had been kind enough to put a lot of thought into the contraption, so I wasn't as snagged as Justin thought I was. All it took was a simple twist of my head followed by one sharp yank, and then the velcro my milk brother had sewn into the collar parted to leave me scot-free.

  My human brain would have rubbed my easy escape into Justin's face with some witty repartee, but my wolf brain thought it was amusing to simply roll over and scrape my back along the carpet as if I needed to get rid of an ornery itch. Of course, it didn't hurt that the playful move made it clear I wasn't afraid of my brother's teeth one bit.

  "Stupid wolf," Justin muttered, then added, more loudly, "Will you pay attention? You don't even need to shift—I'll talk and you listen." I yawned, but sat up, curious what my blood brother thought I'd want to hear.

  As I waited, Justin began to pace back and forth across the sitting room, wasting energy that a smarter wolf would have put into the hunt. My own lupine half understood that my brother was definitely hunting something, and we pitied the poor shifter for being unable to turn on his wolf brain while in human form to make the chase go more smoothly. Instead, Justin ended up wasting energy with erratic two-legger emotions, energy that could have been used to tunnel directly toward his goal.

  Eventually, as my blood brother's silence continued, boredom overcame me. I dropped down into a lounge and had just begun to doze off when Justin's words returned me to his presence. Too bad—naps were one of the best things about wolf brain. I lolled my tongue out of my mouth in amusement at the thought...and at the look on my blood brother's face when he realized that, far from being intimidated by his pacing, I had instead taken the opportunity to catch up on my z's.

  "I said," my brother continued, "that this village isn't big enough for both of us." If I'd been human, I would have rolled my eyes. Really? This was the best my big brother could come up with after several minutes of deep thought? The teenager needed to work on his elocution skills. Of course, I wasn't one to talk since I spent 99% of my time in wolf form and mostly got by on head shakes and tail wags, but I also wasn't trying to pretend I was some movie sharpshooter, now was I?

  "We all know I'm going to be the next alpha," Justin continued, blissfully unaware of my snarky internal dialogue. "And your posturing is going to get someone hurt." Someone? The dunce in front of me was the only one in any danger, the way I figured it. Although I might just die of boredom if I was forced to listen to Justin's monologue much longer.

  My blood brother glared straight into my eyes and I matched him stare for stare. "You're old enough to start your Running Around time early," the older shifter growled at last, struggling not to look away as my own piercing gaze trumped his. "Take my advice and go find a mate somewhere else," he muttered, his voice getting quieter under my steady gaze, but remaining adamant. "This pack isn't safe for you," he concluded.

  I only realized the words were a threat when Justin turned on his heel and left the room, just as our father opened the opposite door to herd me into his study. Oh goody, time for round two.

  * * *

  DEAR OLD DAD’S lecture was par for the course, so I left the alpha's home ju
st as bored as when I'd gone in. I have to admit that my tail was between my legs after this second tirade, though—a true alpha will do that to you when he's displeased, whether you're a bloodling or not. However, neither speech had made much of an impression. I still figured I'd take my Running Around time when, and if, Chase decided he wanted to explore the outside world. Unlike blood brothers, milk brothers watched each other's backs.

  And, at first, life seemed to have returned to normal. School was boring as Mrs. Dickerson droned on about chi squares and about how werewolfism was a dominant, X-linked gene. I liked our biology teacher and knew that Chase found her words fascinating, but I still couldn't help tuning the woman out and instead focusing on the behavior of the young werewolves around me. To my wolf brain, it was far more intriguing to sniff out the web of attraction that bound my classmates together, especially since most of the young shifters were dating someone other than the wolf they were truly interested in.

  By the time Mr. Shutters started delving into the wonders of theorems, my lupine brain had descended yet further, spiraling down to a primal level. As a wolf, I could spend hours just watching the birds out the window, which Chase would tell me did nothing for my GPA. But, let's get real—my GPA had nowhere to go but up since I couldn't even grasp a pencil in my preferred form. And what would I do with geometry in my future life anyway? Should I calculate the tangent or cosine of a deer's trajectory instead of simply running after the ungulate and ripping out her throat?

  P.E. was the average school day's one saving grace since I could play dodge ball like nobody's business, making this the sole class I looked forward to. But as Chase and I approached the gym and saw the boys being shunted outside away from the girls, I realized it was instead time for our weekly dose of shifting practice. Along with everyone else, I whined a complaint, not relishing the upcoming lesson one bit.

  Like most of my age-mates, I'd only learned to change forms within the last year, the big difference being that my transformation had been from four legs to two rather than vice versa. And also like them, I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about that change, although our apathy had different causes. The other fifteen-year-old members of my pack struggled with a shift that was difficult and painful, while I simply put my wolf brain to sleep and woke up as a boy.

  So why was I critical of the endeavor? It just seemed like a pain in the ass to have to leave the wolf behind, even for an hour. What was the point when canine form had served me so well to date?

  Still, I was an obedient little pup. So I stood naked and two-footed, feeling the chill air in a way I hadn't since last week's shifting practice and watching the boys around me struggle with their forms. A month ago, Chase had confided that his change felt like slivers of glass were cutting into every inch of his skin, which I'll admit didn't sound pleasant, and I hoped for my milk brother's sake that his transformation would be over soon. Our teacher promised that if we could just relax and go with the flow, the pain would fade with practice as shifting became second nature. But at fifteen, the transformation was still something most of us didn't do unless we had to.

  The class was essential though, because mastering our shifts was probably the most important skill most of us would learn this year. The girls inside the gym would each change forms uncontrollably once a month, something that my human brain didn't want to think about but that my wolf brain found intriguing. Boys, on the other hand, usually shifted only at will...or if we got angry or scared. Here in the village, we were protected by our insularity, but when we visited the nearby town, being able to quickly shift back to the form we'd arrived in could mean the difference between letting our secret out and getting safely home.

  Plus, the fastest shifters were automatically considered dominant werewolves. And who didn't want to be dominant?

  Justin definitely did want the dominance points. As his furry body pushed past my fur-less one, I got lost in complicated human thoughts for a moment, wondering if my blood brother actually obeyed our teacher's admonition to practice shifting forms each night before bed. His speedy transformation was impressive, and I didn't realize the point of his effort until the wolf's teeth had sunken into Chase's thigh and my milk brother was screaming on the ground, helplessly stuck mid-shift.

  I leaped on Justin in a heartbeat, but the teacher was there faster, tossing the wolf onto his back in a rare display of dominance against the alpha's oldest son. Chase faded back into human form, his hand pushing against the gash in his leg, and I used my own fingers to press a discarded shirt into the bleeding wound.

  Despite the teacher's uncharacteristic lack of favoritism, though, the damage was done, and I got the message loud and clear. As I always tried to explain to Chase, a wolf can communicate quite effectively without words, and Justin had evidently gotten that part of wolf brain down pat. Justin's teeth said what hadn't sunk into my understanding during his earlier lecture—I needed to leave this pack before someone got hurt. Not me—Chase.

  * * *

  I HADN’T THOUGHT it would be so hard to talk myself into leaving the pack. Half of the nearby adults hated my guts while half of the kids were terrified of my wolf form, never mind the reality that the latter would shortly grow into a wolf of their own. So you would have thought there was little to hold me in my childhood home. Still, the outside world was terrifying to a wolf like me who had probably spent fewer than fifty hours beyond the boundaries of our village in his entire lifetime. And, fear aside, my wolf brain allowed me to love with an intensity that few humans could muster. Chase wasn't just my milk brother; he was my left paw. Tia wasn't just my foster mother; she was the bones that held me up. Abandoning either seemed unthinkable.

  While I vacillated, Justin didn't let up in his torment of my milk brother, and the bully soon branched out to the halfies and full-humans (meat, he called them) in our pack. At first, I tried to pretend that my blood brother was just being his usual domineering self, but Justin knew just how to catch my eye after tripping a human kid as the latter walked down the aisle to his seat. In the end, my blood brother's wolf and mine communicated perfectly. This is your fault, Justin's wolf reminded me. I'm hurting these kids because you won't leave. And, for once, my own wolf cowered in the face of confrontation.

  To make matters worse, even-tempered Chase picked up on the subtext and grew angry on my behalf within a couple of days. "We're going to have to find a way to fight back," my milk brother told me as we walked home from school, a bruise darkening on his forearm where Justin had pounded my milk brother with a dodge ball during gym class. Chase wasn't angry about the bruise, though. Instead, we were both steamed about the way we'd caught Justin behind the schoolhouse feeling up a halfie girl who was struggling to pull away.

  I shook my head adamantly at my milk brother. We didn't need to find a way to fight back. I did.

  Despite the lack of words, Chase understood my meaning intuitively, his wolf brain tuning into my body language and deciphering my stance on the issue. "I know you think this is your fight, but it's becoming everyone's fight," he told me. "Your father is an asshole, but at least he's fair. Can you imagine what this pack will be like for halfies once Justin is in charge? He's going to be our alpha, you know."

  I shook my head again, but this time because I knew deep in my gut that Justin never would be my alpha. Now I just had to find the courage to tell my blood brother as much.

  * * *

  "NO LEASH?" JUSTIN asked when I cornered him in his yard the next morning.

  "No leash," I replied, my voice a bit rusty from lack of use. In fact, I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and figured I could almost pass for a real boy. Not that I would say that to Justin, who I had to admit was still pulling my strings.

  Because I was here to admit that my older brother had won—I was going to leave the pack in his capable hands. But I saw no reason not to let him wiggle a little on the hook first, especially since my human presence seemed to daunt my blood brother even more than my wolf form did. Maybe th
e problem was that my human form had grown to be a full head taller than my sibling's and my arms were thick with muscles from my wolf sprints through the woods. In contrast, Justin looked scrawnier every day. But I'd learned the hard way that I couldn't bat the older boy down, not with all of the nearby adults hanging on his every word as they waited for Justin to grow into the role of alpha. So it was time to concede with as much grace as I could muster.

  "Well?" Justin said at length, losing the silence contest just as he generally lost our staring contests in the schoolyard. If I'd been a wolf, I would have lolled my tongue in satisfaction; as a human, I was able to laugh. My mirth didn't last long, though, since my next words were bitter.

  "I'm here to tell you I'm leaving," I said. "I'll go tonight. But don't think you can keep beating up on people weaker than you just because I'm not around to see it. I'll find a way to check in at intervals, and if you're being a bastard, I'll come back and I will take you down."

  Justin looked away, his downcast eyes making it clear that he'd obey my command. This was at the heart of our antipathy—between the two of us, I was the real alpha, but Justin was our father's son.

  I expected my brother to save face with some back-handed comment, "Good riddance" perhaps, or the more manly "Get the hell out of here." But instead, my blood brother just nodded and turned to leave. Our deal had been struck.