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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  A flush rose in her face as she wound her way through the tables. She’d chosen a purple, ankle-length dress and a short blue jean jacket to hide the fact her gown showed a little too much cleavage. She’d left her hair down, a cascade of honey around her shoulders.

  Cade stood as she approached. “Ever.”

  She smiled. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I’m just glad you came.” Cade stepped around the table to pull out her chair, and waited until she was seated before he sat back down.

  “I almost didn’t.”

  He paused, then asked, “Why did you?”

  “I’m a glutton for punishment. And you owe me dinner.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I do owe you dinner for the mad antics of an idiot. I got you something.”

  Cade produced a small potted plant from beneath the table. “The florist said it’s rosemary.”

  Ever’s heart skipped as she picked up the tiny pot. She pressed her nose to the needle-shaped leaves and took a deep breath. That distinct almost Evergreen scent swirled around her. “I love rosemary. Thank you.”

  Cade let out a breath. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Ever took a sip of water as they sat silently. Her eyes downcast, she finally said, “I heard you kicked Donovan out of the coven.”

  “Again,” Cade added.

  “Is the rest of your coven mad?”

  Shrugging, he shifted his water glass to the right, as if opening a more direct path between them. “They’ll get over it. They’re only pissed because we keep losing people. We haven’t been a full thirteen in over a year.”

  “We’ve never been a full thirteen.”

  Cade raised an eyebrow. “Really? I can’t believe that.”

  “I can. We live firmly on the north end of the Bible Belt. The few Wiccans in our area are usually very solitary and secretive. That makes covenmates hard to come by.”

  They were interrupted as the server arrived to take their order. Ever asked for a Coke and the pesto zucchini pasta, and Cade ordered the seitan tacos.

  “I’ve never had seitan,” he said as the server walked away.

  “Really? It’s good. You’ll like it.”

  “As good as chicken tacos?” He grinned. “That’s my favorite.”

  “It always surprises me when I meet Wiccans who eat meat,” Ever said in response.

  “Why’s that?” He got that wary look in his eye that said he was expecting a lecture.

  But Ever didn’t lecture. She didn’t try to push her own beliefs on others. Everyone had a choice, and she didn’t believe in forcibly removing a choice. But she did share the reasons for her own choices if anyone asked. “Most animals in the agriculture industry die scared and in pain.”

  Cade inclined his head. “I admit our livestock laws are — ”

  “Nonexistent. But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the chickens who died to make your tacos were very scared, and they’d likely had their beaks sawed off, so they were hurt, too. They grew up in a box without grass or dirt or sunlight. They never knew a kind voice. Negativity doesn’t just disappear. It’s like when you’ve got a pothole in the concrete. It rains, and the storms passes away, but the hole itself collects the water. The water sits there and spoils, attracts biting insects and disease, until the sun manages to come out and burn away the water.”

  “So chicken tacos are that pothole.”

  Ever laughed. “Exactly. The chickens never had a chance to be cleansed before death. So by eating their meat, you’re eating their negativity.”

  Cade stared at her. “I’ve never looked at it like that before.”

  “Most people haven’t.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Ever semi-embarrassed for bringing it up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture you. I don’t think you’re evil for eating meat.”

  “It’s okay. Thanks for sharing.”

  “No, it’s stupid. I’m sorry I said anything.”

  Cade grinned. “Not stupid. Honest.”

  “I would eat meat if I knew it came from a good farm where the farmer took care of his animals,” Ever offered.

  He laughed. “Well, it’s something to think about. Negativity’s nothing to fuck with.”

  “Funny to hear that coming from you.” The words were out before Ever realized she was saying them. She froze. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice.”

  “You think my magick is negative?”

  He didn’t sound pissed, but Ever didn’t want to offend him.

  “Let’s talk about school. What do you think of the new vice-principal?”

  “Ever, I’m serious.” He reached across the table, his hand alighting on hers briefly. “Do you think my magick is negative?”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling cornered by his unreadable gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, you practice black magick, Cade. Blood rites and…” She trailed off, remembering the way he’d stripped Donovan’s will away the day before. “You think it’s okay to take someone’s free will away. Your coven doesn’t understand that all magick has consequences. When you do a ritual for something, the result doesn’t magically appear from the ether. It comes from somewhere. We can’t will things or conclusions into existence without paying the price.”

  “You’ve never done a rite for money?” Cade asked, his expression passive. “I’m sure there have been times you’ve prayed for money.”

  Ever shook her head. “A rite for money steals that money from somewhere else. If we fall on hard times, we do a ritual and ask for the knowledge and ability to bring in extra money ourselves. We ask for the universe to bless us with abundance. The outcome is usually a prompt to have a yard sale or something equally benign.”

  “What if you’re just taking money from someone who doesn’t need it anyway?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Whether they need it or not, I won’t accept the grime on my soul.”

  Cade looked taken aback. “What?”

  “When you practice magick that falls outside the realm of the Wiccan Rede, you gather grime on your soul. It manifests in your aura as a black hole.”

  “Like the negativity.”

  “It is negativity. Each time you violate the laws of magick, you gather more and more of it in your soul. You lose part of yourself.”

  “What if you were doing something that was protecting someone else? Does that add negative energy to your aura, too?”

  Ever caught his eye, at a loss. Were they both thinking of his spell on Donovan? “I-I don’t know.”

  Cade went silent, their gazes locked. He slid his hands over the table, entwining their fingers. “I don’t believe the world is black and white, Ever. There are gray areas everywhere and in everything. Sometimes we have to believe our choices are what make us good people. Not a list of magickal laws written sixty years ago by a couple of early Wiccans I’m pretty sure were high at the time.”

  Ever couldn’t help herself; she laughed. She was lost in his green eyes. She saw so much inside him, more than she’d expected. Cade wasn’t just another cute guy. He was attractive and confident, yes. But underneath, he was different. Like Ever. She’d never seen him so clearly as she did now.

  “I don’t think we’re that different,” he went on, unaware of her inner monologue. “I think we’d make a good team.”

  Ever shook her head. “It’s a fairytale, Cade. Different worlds, like Romeo and Juliet. And quite frankly, I prefer being alive much more than being in love.”

  “In love?” He blinked at her.

  “Theoretically,” she hastened to add.

  “I’m not a bad guy.”

  “I honestly don’t think you are,” Ever agreed, feeling as if they were talking in circles or trying to waltz together to different songs.

  “Come to my mother’s annual Samhain party with me,” Cade pleaded. “Tomorrow night. I’ll show you just how ‘different’ my people are.”

  “My people?” Ever laughed. “Cade, if you have to refer to
them as your personal property, then we aren’t the same.”

  “You know what I mean.” He squeezed her hand. “Come on. Just do it. What could go wrong?”

  “A lot of things!” Ever burst out. “Did you see Allie’s face yesterday when we were talking? She’d rather I spontaneously combust than spend time with you. And your best friend, the bald guy? I’m pretty sure he was concocting a plan to involuntarily commit you to an asylum. Your coven knows we don’t fit, Cade. You just seem to not understand that.”

  He shook his head. “When I look at you, I see the sun.”

  Ever almost dropped her glass on the table at the sudden change of subject. “What?”

  “The sun. You radiate warmth and kindness like some kind of goodwill ambassador. The worst villain in the world couldn’t look away from your light.”

  Ever snorted. “That’s so cheesy.”

  His face fell, wounded. “I mean it. Even when I don’t see you coming, I feel you.”

  She stared at him, her heart tapping against her ribs. “You’re the moon,” she finally said. “A cool presence, wispy and ethereal. I feel you, too.”

  Neither spoke for a long moment, their gazes locked across the table.

  “Come to the party with me,” Cade implored. “It’s costume. You can wear a mask, if you want to be unseen.”

  “I have to work.”

  “What time do you get off?”

  Ever stared at him. “Cade, you really don’t want me there.”

  He touched her hand again, his fingers rough and warm. “I really do.”

  She stared at their hands where they touched. “My sun and your moon. Worlds colliding.”

  “Sometimes worlds need to collide.” He grinned. “What time do you get off?”

  Ever closed her eyes so she couldn’t see his smile and berated herself. This can’t happen, she thought. The sun and moon may ride in the same sky, but that doesn’t mean they can come together.

  “Seven,” she said, defeated.

  “I’ll be at your house at eight.”

  Chapter 14

  CADE

  IT WAS BARELY nine o’clock when Cade got home. On a normal Friday night, he’d call up Mitch or one of the other BlackMags, and they’d get together, drink a few beers, and talk about girls. But Cade didn’t have it in him tonight. His dinner with Ever had taken a lot out of him mentally, not to mention he was starting to question his choice of covenmates.

  She’d made him contemplate things he’d never bothered to consider before. She almost made him feel like a bad person. The only thing keeping him from worrying too much was that his beliefs were so much like his mother’s, and his mother was one of the kindest, most compassionate people he knew. There was no way his mother could be a bad person.

  His dad’s Hummer sat in its usually vacant spot, the engine ticking as if he’d just arrived. As Cade passed through the garage, he noticed his mother’s car was gone, which was abnormal. Grace Bourdain was an introverted woman. Cade could only recall her having a handful of friends throughout her life, and even then, he couldn’t conjure up an image of any of them. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d left the house for anything other than groceries, and that was usually on Monday mornings.

  Cade walked into a dark kitchen, flicking on the light as he passed it. Trays and bowls for the party waited on the kitchen table. They were empty now, but by six p.m. tomorrow, there’d be enough food in there to feed an army.

  He grabbed a soda from the fridge and left the warmth and light of the kitchen for the dark, cavernous front hall. Cade had never noticed how impersonal their house was until he stepped foot in Ever’s. His boots echoed off the high ceilings, and the place felt empty, even though he knew his dad was somewhere in the house — probably in his office.

  Ever’s house, though, felt like a home.

  As he crested the top of the stairs, Cade paused, sure he’d heard voices. He listened carefully, turning towards his father’s office. He already knew his dad was home, but it wasn’t like Rémy to leave his office door open. The room was soundproof and magick-proof, and Rémy took it seriously.

  He heard the low murmuring again. Without knowing why, he moved down the hallway towards the sound, his footsteps light as he hugged the wall. The closer he got to his dad’s office, the better he could hear the conversation.

  “What if she will not come with you willingly?” Rémy asked in French.

  “Then I take her by force.”

  Cade could see the thin strip of light from between the doors of his father’s office now.

  “You would hurt your own daughter?”

  “I hope it will not come to that,” Gilles responded simply. “But if it does, then it does. I do not know what her mother has told her about me.”

  They were talking about Ever. They had to be. And Gilles was willing to take her by force, as well as willing to hurt her if necessary. What kind of father would do that?

  “I don’t believe the girl knows anything about her father,” Rémy said. “I slept with her mother once. It was a long time ago in a different place.”

  Cade gripped the wall as blinding fury filled him. His parents had been married for twenty-five years. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe the sexual conquest of which his father spoke had happened more than twenty-five years ago.

  Before he did something stupid like storm into the office with his fists flying, Cade turned and walked away, careful not to make a sound.

  He felt somewhat better in the silence of his bedroom. He slid the bolt on his door into place and leaned against the wood, staring blankly ahead as his eyes adjusted to the soft yellow light from his nightstand.

  Ever was in danger, and Rémy had cheated on Grace. Probably more than once. Cade rubbed his eyes, wishing he could forget everything he’d just heard.

  But why was Gilles so obsessed with Ever? Because she was supposedly powerful? The callous way he spoke of her as his property proved he wasn’t interested simply because Ever was his daughter. There was more to it, and Cade had a sick feeling it had to do with wanting her magick. He remembered the way his car had restarted after she’d whispered over it.

  That wasn’t a good enough reason to kidnap or hurt her. Not in Cade’s opinion. He’d do everything in his power to protect her.

  Going for comfort, he changed into basketball shorts and a hooded sweatshirt, then booted up his computer.

  A Google search on Gilles Robidoux brought back a hundred or so pages referencing his business in France, several social media accounts, and even a book he’d written on finance. Cade skimmed articles for mention of Gilles’ past or his family, but found nothing.

  He hit the bookmark button for Witch Treatise, an online forum only true magickal practitioners knew about. As with any site, there were always trolls who liked to stir up trouble, but it was still a cool place. On the rare occasions he chose to visit, he skimmed through the threads but never commented. He created a new thread under “Do you know…?”

  Anyone know a Gilles Robidoux? Cade typed.

  Answers on Witch Treatise were never instantaneous, however, so Cade closed the browser. He’d check back in the morning.

  He jumped on Facebook to waste time. As he was reading through his newsfeed — the usual bunch of crap from a group of classmates he knew nothing about — he realized he and Ever weren’t friends.

  He stared at her page, captivated. Her cover photo was a staged image of her sitting in a window seat. She had her feet propped up on the wall, and her long white skirt was draped elegantly against her thighs. Her face was in profile as she gazed out the window, and the sun cast a halo around her body as if she were some kind of angel.

  Cade clicked on her profile picture. A close-up from above — probably a selfie. The angle made her pretty face seem elegant and sensual. The long-haired cat on the floor behind her just added to the magical feel.

  He hovered over the “Add Friend” button. If he pushed that button, he’d be asking h
er to publicly state they were friends, even if only virtual ones.

  He clicked it anyway.

  Almost immediately, he got notification she’d accepted his friend request.

  Chapter 15

  EVER

  “I NEED A costume.”

  Nah swiveled in her seat, the glow of the computer screen giving her a halo. “I beg your pardon?”

  Ever sighed. “I got invited to a Halloween party, but it’s literally tomorrow and I have no costume.”

  Nah tilted her head, brow wrinkling. Then she snapped her fingers and smiled. “I have an idea. To the attic, dear!”

  Ever was used to taking the narrow stairway and making a sharp right to get to the ritual room. She never had any reason to be in the attic unless it was for ritual. But tonight, Nah flipped on the light, and they made their way through the main room.

  The attic was so cluttered with family heirlooms it was nearly impossible to cross from front to back without shoving aside boxes full of O’Connell family regalia. Nah walked with a purpose, easily moving obstacles until they’d reached a far corner of the attic where Ever had never ventured.

  There were racks of clothes everywhere. Ever thumbed through the first one, finding bell bottoms and peasant shirts straight out of Woodstock. And the next rack had fitted pencil skirts and thin sweaters that reminded Ever of Grease. But Nah walked past all of that to the back.

  “These belonged to my great-grandmother,” Nah said, sliding a few gowns down the rack so Ever could see. “She died when I was a teenager. I always thought she had beautiful taste in dresses.”

  A cascade of cream lace caught Ever’s eye. She pulled the hanger from the rack and held up the dress, her breath catching in her throat. The gown was made of layers of lace, from its scoop-necked bodice to the floor, and had tiny swooping falls of lace on both sleeves. A turquoise blue sash wound around the waist, and matching ribbons dangled from the shoulders.

  “This is gorgeous,” Ever breathed. “Like something from the Titanic.”