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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  I managed to park in a spot close enough to allow me to see in through Copioh’s front windows. I hoped no one would be able to see me, though. I wasn’t ready for questions. In all honesty, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do when I got there. My planning had ended with taking the car and driving; one of the downfalls of my often quixotic nature. Now that I was here, I was kind of at a loss as to what to do.

  Copioh was the same as it had always been—not that I had expected much to change in a week.

  I cracked the window, lowering it just an inch so I could take in the familiar smell. I used to love the fragrant aroma of espresso and chocolate that leaked from the old coffee house.

  The smell seemed different now. The thick, sweet aroma of the people standing outside altered the scent. While it was very appealing, it no longer gave me the same feeling of home. My throat dried up as the scent teased my hunger, reminding me of my need to hunt for the night. I pushed back the thoughts of blood and concentrated on the café.

  Had anyone noticed that I hadn’t been around?

  I surveyed the parking lot, looking for familiar faces, before turning my attention back to the front window of the café.

  I’d hoped I would be missed. I wanted to see a missing person sign posted in the window, something to tell me my disappearance had some effect. I didn’t want to be another nameless, faceless statistic. College girl goes missing. No! I wanted someone to care that I was gone.

  I stared into the café’s front window, spotting a thin blonde girl sitting on my favorite couch. My heart skipped a beat. It was Fallon, my longtime best friend. I looked at my watch.

  Nine o’clock. Right on time as usual. Too bad she couldn’t have been on time a week ago.

  I should have guessed she would be there waiting for me. In my mortal life, we were always there, together, right after work. She jerked her head towards the door as it opened.

  I ducked below the dashboard in reaction—not that she would have been able to see me behind the heavily tinted windows of the SUV.

  Peeking up, I saw disappointment flash across her face, as if she were expecting someone and he or she hadn’t shown.

  Is she waiting for me?

  The Goth teenagers meandered in front of the café as usual. Their mindless wandering aggravated me. Every few moments, a black cloak or rail-thin person blocked my view into the front window.

  Her face looked so sad. I wanted to go inside, greet my friend, and tell her everything that had happened to me.

  No, I can’t do that. There are too many people here; someone will recognize me. There would be too many questions to answer.

  I couldn’t risk staying any longer. If she were to spot me, or if someone recognized me, there would be trouble. Lysander would never allow our secret to get out like this.

  I started the engine and backed out of the parking space. As much as I wanted to talk to Fallon, I just couldn’t.

  Driving slowly out of the parking lot, I headed towards my old apartment.

  * * *

  MY STREET WAS dark and quiet. For the regular people who didn’t live a nocturnal life, the evening was winding down. Most of the lights in my apartment complex were dark. The quiet hum of air conditioners and the low sounds of thumping bass music, from the surrounding apartments, comforted me.

  I reached the door of what had, until recently, been my home and noticed a wrinkled piece of paper taped to it. It looked official, a notice of some kind. I laughed, reading it. My rent was a week late.

  “Never shy about getting the rent money.” I yanked the note off the door, crumpled it, and tossed it on the ground. “Try getting rent out of me now.”

  I turned the knob, noticing it was already unlocked. That’s odd, I thought, and then I remembered Lysander had stopped by to pick up my things. No need to lock a door when you never plan on returning.

  Slowly, I pushed against the door. A strange feeling came over me, like I was being watched, but I couldn’t sense any human presence. Not that it mattered if there was. It would have been all too easy to take care of any robber stupid enough to attack me, and it would take care of my need to hunt for the night.

  Tiny hairs prickled at the back of my neck. I recognized the sensation. There was a vampire nearby. I looked over my shoulder, scanning the surrounding area, but I didn’t see anything that would clue me into who or what could be watching me. There was no immediate scent of humans in the air, only the musky odor of a few stray cats.

  The street was quiet and dark. I decided it was best to get inside. If another vampire was hunting in this area, I didn’t want to give him or her a reason to bother me.

  The door creaked against my weight as I pushed it open. Moonlight flooded the darkened living space. A familiar aroma greeted me as I stepped over the threshold.

  I was home.

  A peaceful feeling came over me. I flicked on the lights and the room came alive. My apartment was a stark contrast to Lysander’s barren home. Every inch of space in the large studio apartment had been filled. I was a packrat, a collector of sorts. Knickknacks, treasures, books, movies, you name it; I crammed them all into this apartment.

  Fallon had always joked that I decorated in what she liked to call ‘early garage sale,’ pretending there was some artsy theme to my decorating scheme. In reality, I was just a poor girl using whatever furniture I could find to keep myself from sleeping on the floor, and spending the rest of my money on novelties and junk.

  An old, beat-up, black metal futon that doubled as my bed sat against the wall, flanked by two overflowing bookshelves. They leaned sharply, threatening to collapse under the weight of all of their books. Posters of my favorite movies lined the walls in cheap, metal frames, covering up the dingy, yellowing walls.

  I stepped off the four-square linoleum tiled entry onto the old, green shag carpeting. The cracked, aging pad underneath the carpet made a familiar crunching sound as I walked on it.

  My apartment may have been cheap and horribly maintained, but it was home.

  I inhaled deeply, taking in each and every one of the smells that presented itself to me. There was always something about the smell of home that had an instant, calming effect on me.

  Soft hints of my favorite perfume wafted in from the laundry basket in the bathroom. Dry, bitter coffee grounds scented the trash, and the dusty smell of my piles of books created a unique bouquet. I stood for a moment, slowly inhaling and savoring the scents. A jar of my favorite lotion sat half-opened on the counter. The lemongrass and tea tree smell called out to me. I reached out taking the lotion and scooped out a small bit. I savored the clean scent and creamy texture as I rubbed it into my skin.

  I crossed over from the kitchenette and dining area into the living room, noticing a blinking red light on the answering machine. Curious to see if anyone had missed me, I hit play.

  “Hey, lady, it’s Fallon. Sorry about ditching you last night. Call me.” The voice was like music to my ears.

  Another message followed.

  “Hey, Alyssa, where have you been? I tried your cell. Are you mad?” A tear welled up in my eye. I heard worry in Fallon’s voice.

  I waited with anticipation each time the machine beeped.

  “Lyssa, it’s Matt. I haven’t heard from you in a while, where have you been? Anyway, a bunch of us are going to Mount Charleston this weekend, please come. Call me.”

  I knew I should stop the machine, but I kept listening, desperate to know I’d been missed.

  “Alyssa, I’m getting worried. Where are you? Please pick up the phone.” Worry had turned to fear in Fallon’s voice. My heart swelled with emotion.

  I pressed the button to stop the messages, wondering if I should delete them.

  Was there any report about my attack on the school campus? Did anyone suspect something, was I just another missing person, or had the events of my assault remained unknown to everyone but Lysander and myself?

  Those questions would have to remain unanswered. I could
n’t speak to my human friends now. Hearing the sounds of their voices made me long to talk to them, to tell them I was okay.

  I went to the bookshelf, pulling a thick photo album out of the topmost shelf. Collapsing on the futon, I opened the book and flipped through the photos. All of the memories of my former life were in those plastic-coated pages.

  A pair of green eyes belonging to a ten-year-old version of myself stared back. I was hugging a sleepy-looking brunette wearing a Santa hat. It was one of the few pictures I had of my mother before she spiraled out of control.

  She’d never been much of a figure in my life. Most of the memories of my childhood involved being shuffled back and forth between babysitters when my mom wanted to go out for a night of fun.

  I hated how messed up she used to get. There were more than enough vices in Vegas to turn any soccer mom into a gambling-addicted alcoholic, and unfortunately, after Dad left, my mom took to trying out as many as she could. I had been left alone to fend for myself most of the time. I was never one to be told what to do or where to go: one benefit of absentee parenting. I learned quickly how to do everything for myself.

  Can I blame you for this, Mom? Maybe if I had been raised differently, or had more responsible and caring parental figures, my life would have turned out differently.

  “No, I can’t blame her,” I sighed.

  I turned the pages, reminiscing. Friends, road trips, parties: all of my fondest memories lived here, in these pages. The ache of emotion pulled at my heart. I felt like an outsider now, looking in through the window on someone else’s life. I knew I did not belong with the people in those pictures any longer.

  I surveyed the apartment, seeing the trail of clothes left by Lysander’s hasty attempt to pack up my things. All of my mortal possessions were here, but somehow they didn’t feel like they belonged to me anymore. They belonged to the me that used to live here, the mortal Alyssa who struggled to pay the rent and hated her job. The Alyssa who spent all her free time with friends sitting in a silly little college café.

  I wasn’t that Alyssa anymore. I wasn’t sure who I was now. I only knew how different I felt.

  Maybe Lysander’s been right all along. I don’t belong here anymore.

  The photo album slid from my lap, almost falling to the floor. I caught it and set it aside as I continued to look around at the remnants of my mortal life. A small stand next to me held a wooden box. I grabbed it, opening it as I brought it to my lap. A small white gold, diamond, and sapphire eternity ring sat inside of it. My mother’s wedding ring. I took it out of the box, placing it on my right ring finger.

  I’m not leaving this behind. I’m not losing everything from my mortal life.

  The shrill ring of my telephone snapped me out of my depression. I wanted to answer, to hear the voice on the other side of the line. Knowing it would be a friend calling, I stopped myself.

  I’m dead to them.

  The answering machine picked up, and I heard my recorded voice telling the caller I wasn’t at home and to leave a message.

  “Okay, Alyssa, I’m really worried now. It’s been over two weeks. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering your cell? I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I’m coming over to check on you.”

  It was Fallon.

  I wanted nothing more than to talk to her. To tell her what had happened. To let her know I was okay. The fear in her voice was unbearable.

  The phone disconnected and the room fell silent. Temptation told me to stay, to wait for my friend to show up. Unlike the café, my apartment was quiet and secluded. I could tell her everything and say my good-bye without fear of others overhearing.

  I thought of Lysander. What would he say? I knew he wouldn’t approve; I was already going to be in enough trouble for coming back here.

  Rule number one was to maintain a low profile. Divulging my new secret to another person, a human, wouldn’t be tolerated. These older immortals all seemed to be able to read the thoughts right out of my head, and I knew I couldn’t protect my mind to keep this forbidden meeting a secret.

  What would Lysander do if he found out a mortal knew of us? He might just kill her to protect our secrets.

  As much as I wanted to stay, I knew I should go. She was my best friend, but I couldn’t put her in any risk by telling her my secret. I left the photo album open on the futon, showing a picture of the two of us, happily smiling for the camera, standing on a sunny beach.

  Goodbye, Fallon. Remember the good times.

  I didn’t know how she would take this sign, but I hoped some idea of my message would get to her. It was better she thought I was gone. At least then she could start the healing process.

  A lump formed in my throat as I left the apartment. I made no effort to lock up or turn off the lights. I left the door wide open, inviting her inside to see that I was gone.

  I decided not to stick around and find out what she would do. Seeing her again might tempt me to come out and comfort her, and I couldn’t risk it. This gesture was the only way I could say goodbye. The night was calling and I needed to move on.

  * * *

  THERE WAS STILL one more place I needed to see before I returned to Lysander’s home.

  I walked slowly down the street, with hardly a glance upward to tell me where I was going. I had walked these steps so many times in my mortal life I could take them blind.

  I made it back to the campus of UNLV, walking down the path towards the theater hall. The grounds were all but deserted, and silence filled the air. I soon caught an all-too-familiar scent.

  Blood.

  I looked up, seeing the burned-out lights I had noticed before. The path was dark but my supernatural sight allowed me to see. I knew exactly where I stood.

  Sadness welled up inside of me. I had found the spot where my life changed forever. I could tell someone had tried to clean up the mess. The pavement looked clean. No human would see the evidence of the attack, but I could still smell it. Faint traces of copper and a hint of lemongrass, my favorite scent, still clung to the area.

  Flashes of memory played the nightmare of my attack over and over.

  Excuse me, miss, a voice echoed in my head, as I remembered the skinny man, drawing my attention while his heavyset friend snuck up behind me.

  I witnessed the whole scene play out as if I were a ghost, watching as I was knocked to the ground. I saw the knife enter my back as I reached for my keychain, desperately hoping I could fend them off with the pepper spray.

  See what you made me do? I said stay down, you dirty slut. The voice of the heavyset man echoed in my head.

  My fist clenched at my side. My heart ached with each shallow thump. I fought against the tears welling in my eyes.

  I saw the look of terror on my face as the skinny man mounted me, preparing to rape me. I looked so helpless, so weak—lying there, accepting my fate.

  Echoes of footsteps signaled my savior had come to rescue me, only these echoes weren’t shadows of my memory. The sound was real.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. The familiar sensation of being watched from behind struck me. Then I felt a calming warmth.

  I watched as again, he stepped from the shadowed path, just as he had the night he had turned me.

  “Lysander,” I gasped. “What are you…how did you…”

  I was shocked and scared, seeing him standing in front of me.

  “I knew you would come here,” he said calmly. There was no anger in his voice, but I knew I was in trouble for coming back here. I just hoped he wasn’t too mad at me.

  “How did you know I—?”

  “You’re not the first I’ve turned, Alyssa.”

  I gulped down a knot, forming in my throat. “Please don’t be mad… I—”

  “I know.” Lysander smiled. “You needed to have one last look. It’s okay.”

  “Really?” I was confused by how calmly he was acting. He was supposed to be angry— no, make that livid— that I had chosen the place of my mort
al death to come back to.

  “It’s hard to say goodbye to your mortal life. I’m proud of you for leaving your apartment when you did.”

  “You’ve been following me this whole time, haven’t you,” I said coldly, remembering the vague feeling of being watched.

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I had a feeling the moment I let you out alone, you would want to come back.”

  “But—”

  “And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Lysander, I’m…” I was torn between fear and confusion. He was acting too calm about this.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not mad,” he said, raising his hand to quiet me. “You have acted very maturely about this. I should have let you come make peace sooner. For that, I am sorry.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wasn’t in trouble.

  He motioned for me to walk with him.

  “You are a special case, Alyssa. Most mortals are turned knowing full well what they’re getting themselves into.”

  We found a bench along the walkway and took a seat.

  “Normally, when we wish to turn someone, it is because they mean something to us beforehand. There is plenty of time to let them know the sacrifice they will be making. To warn them of the difficulties they might face. You weren’t given this opportunity.”

  I thought about my friend; she must have made it to my home by now and found the apartment empty.

  Would she go looking for me? Would she understand my meaning when she saw the photo album? Would she understand the message I was trying to convey? If only I could have said something to her. Just one last conversation to say good-bye.

  “Please try not to dwell on your mortal life,” Lysander cautioned, interrupting my train of thought. He was right. I was dwelling. I didn’t want to give up ties to my old life.

  I had not been given a choice. I had not been prepared for this sacrifice.

  It was easy to deal with the loss of my apartment and job; but my friends, on the other hand, had been like family. It was hard to accept that I could no longer call on them for support. I could no longer share in the good memories or be there as comfort for the bad ones. To be dead to them was the hardest sacrifice to make.