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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Try it on.”

  Ever shed her T-shirt and shorts, and Nah helped guide the delicate lace over her head. It settled around her torso as if it had been made for her.

  “Come here, my sweet.” Nah held her hand and guided her to an old, worn mirror. As Ever stared at her reflection in the mottled glass, Nah tied the blue sash.

  “It’s a little long,” Ever worried aloud.

  “I can fix that. Don’t you concern yourself over a little extra fabric.” Nah finished tying the bow and stepped away, gazing at Ever in the mirror. “You look so much like my mother.”

  “I wish I’d known her.”

  Nah wrapped her arms around Ever’s waist and squeezed. “She would have been as proud of the woman you are as I am.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” Ever said with a laugh.

  “You don’t need to do anything, sweetheart.” Nah gently turned Ever, cupping her face in soft hands. “You are everything I hoped you would be. You are strong like the earth. You are as fierce and passionate as a raging fire. You have the soul of the wind, and the gentle, rolling compassion of water. And your magick… Ever, your magick is phenomenal. Sweetheart, you are the perfect white witch.”

  Ever thought of Cade. Would her Nah think she was so perfect if she knew Ever had a crush on a black witch?

  “Where are you wearing this beautiful dress?” Nah asked, untying the sash so Ever could remove it.

  “A party.”

  Nah laughed. “I know that. I mean, which one specifically? I really hope it’s not the Bernards’ annual barn party. That one gets out of hand, dear.”

  Ever shook her head, then lifted her arms for Nah to pull the dress off. “No, it’s not the Bernards’ party.”

  She didn’t want to tell the truth. Witchcraft circles ran thin in Coalhaven — Nah knew the Bourdains were dark Wiccans, even if she didn’t know they were blood born. It was a miracle she hadn’t probed deeper Thursday night when Ever had questioned her about them. After Nah’s rousing speech about how wonderful she was, Ever didn’t want to let her down.

  “It’s Ollie,” Ever said, a flush rising to her face as she lied to her grandmother. “Ollie is having a Halloween party.”

  “Oh, in that beautiful Victorian? And in that dress?” Nah clapped her hands. “Take lots of pictures, Ever, honey. I wish I was off work and could go with you!”

  Thank Goddess for the police department, Ever thought, trailing her grandmother downstairs.

  * * *

  “TELL ME ABOUT Dah,” Ever said to her grandmother as they sat on opposite ends of the couch, feet entwined and a bowl of popcorn between them. The dress hung on the coat rack in the corner — Nah had promised to adjust the hem first thing in the morning.

  Nah shot her a confused look. “Why do you ask?”

  Ever shrugged. “I guess I just want to know what it’s like to love someone.”

  With a chuckle, Nah paused the romantic comedy that was just beginning, and then picked up a handful of popcorn. “Trying. Love is trying.”

  “No it isn’t.” Ever laughed. “Don’t be silly.”

  “It is, honey. Nothing about being in love is easy.” Her gaze went thoughtful, and Ever could tell she wasn’t sitting on the couch anymore. She was somewhere back in time when Dah was still alive. “Love is compromise and restraint. It’s picking your battles, and enjoying every minute of it. It’s not necessarily seeing eye to eye.” She laughed. “Me and your dah, we definitely didn’t agree on much. But always being in agreement would be boring. Only by understanding why we fight can we find the path to peace.”

  Most of the time, Ever gagged at the way her grandmother could turn any life lesson into a Hallmark greeting card, but this time was different. She’d only known her dah for a short time. Diabetes had started killing him long before Ever and her mother moved to Coalhaven. But in that time, Ever remembered thinking how in love her grandparents were, right up to the last minute. To hear that things weren’t always the fairytale they seemed made her think maybe a relationship with Cade wasn’t completely out of the question.

  “Your day is coming.” Nah winked. “I can feel it in my bones. And he’s gonna be a doozy of a love.”

  Ever only hoped by “doozy” she didn’t mean doomed.

  * * *

  AFTER THE MOVIE, Ever excused herself for bed and left Nah reading a book on the couch.

  She had already put off the calming spell for two days, so she had to take care of it now. Tensions between the covens had reached a high previously unknown. Ever wished she could go back in time and change her sophomore year. That’s when the trouble had started, when Mike Florentine left for college and Ava’s older brother took the leadership reins for his senior year. It wasn’t that he did anything wrong; he just didn’t have the compassion Mike did. He ignored the BlackMags and said some unfavorable things about their choices. In turn, that inflamed the BlackMags towards Ever’s coven and lay the foundation for the rift.

  In her bedroom, Ever pulled a stool close to her altar and sat before it, taking a few deep breaths to center herself.

  When she was alone, Ever didn’t bother with pageantry. It wasn’t that she disliked the grand gestures of ritual — on the contrary, she loved traditional circles. Within her coven, everyone knew their ritual duties. The circles were set, cast, and complete with all the pieces in place from beginning to end. But a traditional casting flowed better when performed with her coven, rather than by herself.

  Ever’s altar was simple: four votives representing the elements in their respective colors; a cauldron for burning herbs; a bowl of salted water for protection; a silver pillar candle for the goddess and a gold one for the god. The altar itself was an old podium she’d painted and mosaicked to make her own. The shelves below held all manner of tools she might need in ritual.

  With a single thought, Ever conjured her protective circle. The energy made an audible pop, and the atmosphere increased in pressure. Her circle was visible around her in waves of gold and blue: the colors of her aura and magick, respectively.

  Ever lit the yellow votive candle. “I welcome the east and the element of air into this sacred space. Merry meet.” She moved on to the red. “I welcome the south and the element of fire into this sacred space. Merry meet.” On to west and water, and then finally north and earth.

  Finally, she lit the silver and gold pillars and welcomed the god and goddess.

  “Great Lady of the moon, dark huntress of the fertile earth; mighty horned God, keeper of life and death, welcome to this sacred circle. Guide me and guard me in my magick. Lend to me your strength and power.”

  Ever’s skin flushed with the heat of the power she’d already raised, and she hadn’t even begun the ritual. Her power was even stronger than that of her Nah, who had been practicing for over fifty years. Ever had been raised to understand — and respect — the unusual strength of her own magick. But every time it surged through her during ritual, it still took her by surprise.

  She reached for her Book of Shadows, hidden in the cabinet directly below the surface of the altar. It was her recipe book: filled with every spell she’d ever written or copied from others, as well as notes on correspondences — the way all things aligned together for intentions, from planets to herbs and stones. She rested the heavy, leather-bound tome on her knees, whispered the unlocking incantation that only she knew, and opened it.

  “How can I calm this situation down without affecting anyone’s free will?” Ever asked out loud, moving her hands off the pages. Her mind was on Meagan, the worst of the offenders.

  In answer to her question, the book’s pages began to flip. The sheets paused, open to a spell for binding.

  Ever shook her head. “Harm none, Book.”

  The pages flipped once more, landing open on a spell to relieve tension between loved ones by lightening the atmosphere.

  “Closer,” she agreed with a smile.

  She grabbed a pen and a blank sheet of paper and b
egan to write, tweaking the original spell to fit her current needs.

  She executed the ritual flawlessly, even though part of her wondered if she was toying with anyone’s free will in the process. If any of her covenmates or the BlackMags wanted to continue the so-called “war,” then her spell would interfere with their free will.

  Maybe.

  Ever released the energy into the universe and waited. She wanted a sign, something to tell her she’d done the right thing. Nothing was forthcoming.

  She wasn’t used to being a part of something that made her question her morals.

  Ever’s laptop was open on the bed from her conversation with her mother earlier that day. She tapped the spacebar to wake it up, and picked out a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. After brushing her teeth, she crawled into bed and pulled her laptop closer.

  The very moment she opened Facebook, she got a notification she’d received a friend request.

  From Cade.

  She didn’t even have to think about it. She accepted.

  A moment later, her chat bubble popped up.

  Cade Bourdain: I had a great time this evening.

  Ever shivered, sinking back against the headboard with her laptop resting on her knees.

  Ever O’Connell: Me too.

  Cade Bourdain: You give me clarity.

  Ever laughed.

  Ever O’Connell: You really confuse me.

  Cade Bourdain: Why?

  She pulled her hands away from the keyboard, her heart beating faster. Protected by a screen and a keyboard instead of staring him face to face, she typed quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  Ever O’Connell: I don’t want to be so into you.

  Cade Bourdain: You’re into me?

  Ever couldn’t answer. She tried three times, aware he could see the bubble indicating she was typing. But she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t say anything else. Her cheeks were on fire, and he couldn’t even see her.

  Finally, when her response wasn’t forthcoming, Cade started typing.

  Cade Bourdain: I’m into you. Bad.

  Chapter 16

  CADE

  SATURDAY DAWNED CLOUDY and cool, but there was a humidity to the air that held the promise of storms. Cade leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding a Red bull and the other deep in the pocket of his shorts. The house was silent — his father wasn’t home, and his mother was still asleep. Cade had awoken with the power of the coming storm dancing across his skin, and Ever on his mind.

  His eyes on the boiling sky, Cade smiled as he remembered saying goodbye to her in front of the restaurant.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she’d said, her gaze dropping bashfully to the ground as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “And for… well, everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I had a great time.” He’d wanted to punch himself. He might not be suave and debonair, but he usually had better dating skills than this. Confronted with Ever he lost all ability to form sentences that weren’t lame.

  He’d wanted to kiss her. She’d just put lip gloss on, and her lips were rosy in the growing twilight. Her cheeks were flushed, and the blue of her knit cap made her eyes vibrant. But before he could muster up the courage, she stepped back.

  “Well, thanks, Cade. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He wasn’t an idiot — she’d stepped away from him to keep him from making a move. Ever had friend-zoned him.

  But then… Gods, on Facebook chat later that night…

  I don’t want to be so into you.

  But she hadn’t said anything else. Even after he confessed how much he liked her. He’d waited another forty-five minutes, hoping she would say something more.

  Cade closed his eyes, listening to the storm’s power whistle on the wind. What was it about Ever that so disarmed him?

  He spent the morning cleaning his room and helping his mother with preparations for the party. By late afternoon, he had showered and was getting dressed to leave for Mitch’s house, when he got an email alert on his phone.

  You have a reply on Witch Treatise!

  Cade scrambled across the room to open his laptop. He clicked on the bookmark and logged in to the site, hoping the reply wasn’t just a troll.

  Lilypad1028: I do. Unfortunately. Why are you asking?

  Cade typed quickly before the responder logged off.

  BlackMagCB: He’s friends with my dad. I don’t trust him.

  He didn’t want to share any personal information with some stranger on the internet. Lilypad1028 didn’t need to know Gilles had threatened Ever, and Cade had made it his goal in life to protect her. He just wanted something that would give him the upper hand, in case he ever needed it.

  Lilypad1028: Don’t trust him. Ever. He is the worst of the dark practitioners, with a thirst for power that surpasses even the love of his family. Steer clear of him. I’m sorry you have to know him. I wish I didn’t.

  For a brief moment, as he scanned the response, he thought it read Don’t trust him, Ever. Cade re-read the message to assure himself that wasn’t the case. How could this person know Ever was involved?

  BlackMagCB: Anything I should know to protect myself?

  To protect Ever, really. Same thing.

  Lilypad1028: He has one weakness. Pride.

  A moment later, the tiny cauldron next to Lilypad1028 winked out, indicating the person had logged out of Witch Treatise.

  For all Mitch’s big-man-on-campus preening, he and his mom lived alone in a trailer with two cats. It was a nice trailer, granted. Mitch kept himself loaded working construction on the weekends and in the summer.

  Cade waved to the sweet elderly lady next door, who was out watering her flowers in the fifty degree weather. She waved back with the hose, sending a spray of water over the brown grass.

  “She does realize her flowers are going to die soon?” Cade asked as Mitch answered his knock.

  Mitch shrugged. “Miss P’s weird. Come on in.”

  “Where’s your mom?” Cade asked, startled — as usual — by the humidity inside the trailer.

  “Work. Want a beer?”

  Cade accepted the bottle, and shooed a calico off the sofa so he could sit down.

  In the silence that followed, Mitch turned on the television: a giant flat-screen that probably cost more than the trailer. He found a game and muted the sound.

  “Where were you last night?” he asked, tossing the remote on the coffee table. “I called you.”

  Cade fingered the label on his Budweiser, avoiding Mitch’s gaze. “Out.”

  Mitch just looked at him. “Out where?”

  “Dude, let’s be honest for a minute,” Cade said, changing the subject. “Why are you a BlackMag?”

  Mitch shrugged. “You’re my best bud. I like the two deities. It makes sense that sex is the source.”

  “What about black magick? You in that for the thrill or because you really believe it’s okay?”

  “You’re freaking me out, man,” Mitch said, a thick blonde eyebrow raised.

  Cade sighed, brushing his hair off his forehead. It only fell back into his eyes. “I do black magick because I don’t think it’s wrong. Our blood bond is sacred. A blood sacrifice when done right is transcendental, the highest form of praise we can give the Divine. I’m okay with taking away someone’s free will to help them or someone else. I would lay a curse on someone who hurt a friend and not think twice.”

  Mitch nodded slowly. “I mean, yeah. I’ve never really thought about it, but I agree.”

  “Would you curse someone if it meant you gained something from it?”

  “Example?”

  Cade thought about it. “Lay a sickness curse on Mr. Manson the day before a big test.”

  “That seems harmless. I don’t see why not.”

  “That’s where the distinction is,” Cade said with a little more zeal than necessary. “I don’t think I would do that.”

  “You don’t even like Manson.”

  “That’s not t
he point.” Cade shook his head, throwing back a swig of beer. “You would physically harm Manson just to put off a test you didn’t study for?”

  “It’s just a cold, dude.”

  “I cursed Donovan.”

  Mitch sat forward, the corners of his lips lifting. He didn’t like the dude either. “Oh yeah?”

  “I knocked his ass out, then cursed him not to see Ever or her coven.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the fact he had to be helped off school grounds yesterday afternoon and nobody knows why?”

  Cade smirked. “A little. That handiwork was all Meagan Stauble.”

  “That bitch is a piece of work,” Mitch said, but there was only admiration in his voice.

  “She could kick your ass.”

  “I have no doubt.” Mitch studied him, taking intermittent sips of his beer. “You were out with Ever, weren’t you?”

  “Fuck, man. How do you do that?” Cade slammed his empty bottle to the table and shoved his hands through his hair. “Are you fucking psychic? I can’t keep shit from you.”

  Mitch grinned. “Yeah, let’s go with that, and not that it’s written all over your face.”

  “I’m in deep, man.”

  “I know you are.” Mitch heaved his bulk off the couch and went to retrieve two more bottles from the fridge. He came back, passing one to Cade. “The question is, how can you make it work when our entire coven is against her?”