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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “You need something to look into.” Gavin roots through his pockets and pulls out a small crystal. “I found it while going through my dad’s things.”

  I seize the crystal from him. It feels strangely warm, as if alive, and I swear it pulsates in my hand. “Now what?”

  “You’re the witch,” he says with a shrug.

  I don’t bother to correct him. He can believe what he wants.

  Concentrating on my breathing, I reach into my heart, where my magic is the strongest. My hands shake, and my concentration falters. Too much is at stake. What if I’m not strong enough?

  Why hadn’t I practiced scrying instead of flying?

  Please, dear Lord, help me save Vince. Don’t let me be too late. Please don’t take him from me!

  Water drops onto the crystal. There aren’t any clouds in the nighttime sky. It’s not rain. It’s tears. I’m crying.

  Water. One of the elements. Maybe I can channel it to strengthen my magic and be able to scry despite my nerves.

  I focus on the water and its fluidity. A light shines within the crystal and refracts through the teardrops. Hundreds of tiny, breathtakingly beautiful rainbows appear. A faint humming echoes in my ears. Familiar humming, the same humming from the gold bracelet Mom gave me.

  The humming grows louder the closer I move the crystal to the bracelet.

  “What are you doing?” Gavin asks.

  “Sh.”

  I hold up the crystal to my face, level with my nose. Its inner light is almost too bright. My magic touches it. The illumination exits the crystal and grows until it blocks everything else from sight. Within it, I see Vince. He’s bound and gagged, shoved into a corner of a huge garage, behind a car with a hospital parking pass sticker on the back.

  A hand on my shoulder breaks my concentration and ends the scrying.

  “No wonder Calder goes crazy around you.”

  “Why do you say that?” I turn the crystal over in my hand, not wanting to let go of it. It’s my only connection to Vince.

  “When scrying, only the witch using the object is able to see.” His tone is incredulous. “But I saw everything.”

  There’s wonder in his eyes. No trace of fear. No trace of contempt even though his father’s a witch hunter and most likely tried to force his prejudice onto his son.

  I can tell him my secret. It won’t change anything between us.

  A sharp edge of the crystal jabs into my hand, reminding me of the danger Vince is in and how little time we have. “Let’s go.”

  “Lead the way.”

  There’s only one place in Mount Claymore with a huge car garage that belongs to a hospital employee—or former hospital employee. Doctor Jenkins’.

  Maybe the old doctor is in trouble too. He did so much to help my father and me already that it’s impossible to believe he would willingly be a party to kidnapping.

  Before I realize it, I’m flying.

  “Crystal!”

  I ignore him. I’ll be able to reach Doctor Jenkins’ much faster this way. Although… between the ice fingers earlier and now the flying, I’m spilling magic out of me like never before. Before, my limited control meant I couldn’t do what I wanted, but now, I’m doing things I haven’t even consciously thought about doing.

  It’s terrifying.

  “I’ll drive!” Gavin shouts. “It’s better if we’re together.”

  Power in numbers. He has a point. I lower myself to the sidewalk nearly a block away from him.

  We run back to the pizza place and hop into his car. I direct him to the doctor’s. Gavin’s driving rivals Bri’s, but I doubt he normally drives so recklessly. I appreciate his speed even if the neck-breaking turns and the screeching tires tighten the growing knot in my stomach.

  Hang in there, Vince. I’m coming. I’ll save you.

  I call home. One ring, two…

  “Hello?” Mom answers.

  “Mom—”

  “How’s the decorating going? You almost done?”

  “Listen, Vince is missing. I need you to go to the mountain. Tell the witches to meet me at Doctor Jenkins’. Thanks. I love you!”

  I hang up before she can say anything. Gavin’s so focused on driving I don’t think he heard my conversation.

  An eternity passes before he parks the car. I jump out. The still night unnerves me. Not even crickets chirp, as if even the insects know that something is wrong.

  I stand in front of the garage. Would it be better to check if there are any signs of Stormtide outside before bursting inside? Or would that just be wasting time?

  Gavin joins me. “You sure we can do this ourselves?”

  Of course not. I’m terrified my lack of control will be Vince’s undoing, that I’ll fail, that Vince is hurting…

  He walks over to the garage door and struggles to open it. “Locked.”

  I roll my eyes. Did he really think it wouldn’t be?

  Focusing, I will the garage door to open and lift the handle. It doesn’t budge.

  My impatience grows. To be so close to Vince, knowing he’s trapped behind this metal door, is almost too much to bear.

  Please.

  I try to shove my magic toward it again and again. Magic fails me. In frustration, I scream and yank one final time. The garage door handle melts from the fire in my hands.

  Dumbfounded, I stare at the molten twisted metal. What had I done? I hadn’t called on fire.

  My emotions… can they help to unlock more of my magic? Can that be some of the reason why I seem to have so little control over them lately?

  The handle’s reduced to nothing, and neither of us can get it to open. I ruined the easiest route to Vince.

  “Come on,” Gavin says.

  A little numb from what just happened, I allow him to take my arm, and he half drags me, half pushes me away. After he peeks into windows, he takes me to the back door. He puts a finger to his lips then leans close, too close, and whispers in my ear, “Don’t use magic.”

  I’m our only weapon, and he wants me to sit back and do nothing? My frustrations boil within me. The call of my magic is strong, its allure great, and I can’t control it. I have to rein in my emotions, or else Gavin and I will need to be saved, as well as Vince.

  I give a curt nod and take a step back. My arm brushes against a tall weed. It shrivels and dies. Death touch. I killed a weed without meaning to. My eyes widen, and I increase the space between Gavin and me.

  “No magic! They might be able to sense it.”

  Infuriating, insufferable jerk! Why does he have to be the one with the cool head?

  Gavin barely touches the doorknob and turns it. Locked.

  He backtracks several paces and gears up his shoulder. Before he can start running, I lift up the corner of the mat. Nothing there. I point to a nearby metal light fixture.

  Gavin removes a key from the top of it. With a sheepish smile, he unlocks the door.

  The kitchen’s dark and cold. I open the first door I see. It leads to a pantry closet.

  “Stop,” Gavin mouths.

  I hold my breath and listen. At first, I only hear the frantic beating of my heart, so I will it to slow. A little too slow, and I reach for the nearest object—Gavin—to keep myself from falling. Too late, I’m touching him, but he’s fine. We both are. Vince, though…

  Gavin holds onto my arm and rubs my back while glancing around. “No one’s here,” he says, the statement almost a question.

  My breathing hitches. Are we too late? Was Vince moved?

  Not worrying about sneaking around anymore, I run to the next door and open it. The garage. Bingo.

  Chapter 30

  THE ROUGH, TEXTURE wall prickles my fingers as I fumble for a light switch. The darkness banishes. The car is gone. So is Vince.

  His presence lingers. Closing my eyes, I fall to my knees in the corner Vince had been kept. I can almost feel his arms around me, his lips on my cheek.

  Footsteps approach behind me, and for a second, I w
ish it’s Stormtide. Even if I can’t control my magic. Even if he overpowers physically. But it’s only Gavin.

  “What?” I ask dully.

  “There might be a clue somewhere in the house that can help us figure out where they went.”

  My body feels numb. I feel numb. Somehow I climb to my feet.

  He leaves the garage. After one last look around the cluttered garage, I follow. Gavin goes into the dining room, so I enter the parlor.

  Doctor Jenkins sits in his chair, his eyes closed, resting. I touch his frigid neck to feel for a pulse even though I know it’s his final sleep.

  Did he try to stop Stormtide? How is he connected to the ex-shaman?

  Gavin sucks in a deep breath from the doorway.

  “I’m going to look around upstairs,” I whisper even though the doctor can’t be disturbed anymore. “You take the rest of this floor.”

  He nods, not moving, his gaze still glued to Doctor Jenkins.

  I walk around him, my hand briefly touching his shoulder as I pass. So much death, so much needless, senseless death. Is that always the way it is with magic? Someone having to pay the ultimate price?

  Even though Stormtide doesn’t have magic, at seven-feet tall, he’s still a formidable foe, and clearly one capable of dastardly actions.

  Upstairs, I locate the master bedroom and breathe easier when I don’t find Mrs. Jenkins there. Please, dear Lord, let Mrs. Jenkins be safe. Can’t imagine how the kindly old woman’s heart would have handled the strain of seeing a boy kidnapped and her husband killed. Although Doctor Jenkins doesn’t have a wound, I know he was murdered.

  The piercing ring of my phone makes me jump. I practically rip my jean pocket as I scramble to retrieve my cell. The hope in my heart dies when I see the caller.

  “Hey, Brianna.” I sound dead. Empty.

  “I guess you haven’t found Vince.” Her voice is soft.

  “Not yet.”

  She makes a weird sound into the phone. “His parents just showed up to see if we needed any help. What should I tell them?”

  Wonderful. Of all the nights for Vince to be kidnapped, it has to be the night before his brother’s memorial service.

  “Stall if you can.”

  “Crystal, I’m starting to get worried.”

  It takes a lot for the devil-may-care Brianna to be worried. My stomach churns in such tight knots I cover my mouth, afraid I’m going to be sick. “I’ll handle things. Don’t worry.”

  “We’re almost done anyhow. The place looks great. You wouldn’t even know it was a fire hall. You couldn’t have set it up better yourself.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I lie. I may have spent hours organizing the event, but it’s the last thing on my mind. “Call if Vince shows up.”

  I hang up and leave the bedroom. The next room appears to be Doctor Jenkins’ study. Several bookcases line the walls. Behind a massive cherry oak desk is a tall leather chair—an occupied chair.

  “Mrs. Jenkins,” I exclaim. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  The old woman frowns, and several thick lines appear on her forehead. “Hardly, dear child. I’m far from all right.”

  I don’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry…”

  Her bitter laugh completes her transformation from joyful but absent hostess to a somber hag of a woman. Mrs. Jenkins closes her eyes and leans her head back. When she opens her eyes again, she looks slightly more relaxed. “It’s not your fault.”

  “What happened?”

  “Several hours ago, a man showed up at the door and forced his way in. He spoke with my husband. After the man left, Hal wouldn’t look at me, and he wouldn’t talk to me. Whatever they talked about, it distressed him, which in turn distressed me. I made Hal his favorite food to try to pull him out of his spell, but he didn’t want to eat.” She opens the roll-top desk and removes an envelope. “When he finally did talk, he told me I would find this here and that it belonged to you. If anything was to happen to him, I was to make certain you received it.”

  I cross the room in three strides and claim the envelope. “What is this?”

  “Apparently the first letter Hal gave you was a fake. It hadn’t been written by your father.”

  “Who wrote it?” My mind’s blurry, and my concentration’s shot. I can’t find it in me to care about the deceit over the letter or that I have a supposedly genuine one in my hands now. All I care is Vince.

  “The fraud? That I do not know. Maybe Hal. Or one of the witches.”

  I jerk back. “You know about the witches?”

  “Do I know about the witches and the long talons they have in my husband, forcing him to do their bidding?” She blanches, and some of her anger and hostile melts away. “Had.”

  She shifts her body to face the window, and I follow her gaze. Clouds block the stars, the moon invisible on this dreary night. Vince has to be so scared and confused. Has Stormtide told him anything? Or is Vince still clueless, not knowing what he’s in the middle of?

  “For the longest time, I didn’t know,” Mrs. Jenkins continues. “When Hal did tell me, I refused to believe at first. It was the darkest time during our marriage. I honestly thought he was crazy. Witches? Magic? That stuff didn’t exist.” She stares at me, her eyes sad but piercing. “It was almost too late before I believed.”

  “Is it better to know?”

  “Yes. And no. Nothing about magic is simple, but then, I have a feeling you already know that. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Hal told me about your letter. It was of the upmost importance that I be sure you were given it. He also wanted me to apologize for him not giving you the real one in the beginning, but he was afraid it would fall into the wrong hands.”

  The wrong hands meaning the witches? Or the shamans?

  “Then he told me to come up here and to not leave this room.”

  I’m crestfallen. If Mrs. Jenkins was up here for hours, she can’t possibly know about Vince or where Stormtide took him.

  “Relax, dear child. You look like someone’s died.” A shadow crosses her face. “Other than my husband, no one else has. I don’t always do Hal’s bidding. I do have my own mind, even if some couples seem to operate as one if they’ve been married as long as we’ve been. Anyhow, I know the man came back, this time with a teenage boy. Hal was livid and attacked the man. How he thought he could win, I don’t know, and… The man took the boy, and Hal’s cane, and left.”

  “Do you have any idea where?” Don’t get your expectations up.

  “Yes. The Forest of Shadows.”

  Never heard of such a place. Could it be the forest from my visions? Doesn’t matter if it is. “Where’s that?”

  “About an hour’s drive north of here.”

  “Did you happen to see Vince? Did he look all right?” My voice is so colored with hope and wistfulness I don’t recognize it.

  “Every time I caught a glimpse of him, he had his head down, his eyes closed, his hands together. His lips were always moving.”

  A large lump forms in my throat. Vince. My Vince. Praying.

  Please, dear Lord, keep him safe. Don’t take him away from me. I need him.

  I will save him. No matter the price I have to pay.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  “Be careful, Crystal. There are dark forces at work here. I can sense it. Although that tall beast of a man doesn’t have any magic himself, he’s more than capable of violence and destruction.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  I run downstairs then turn around and reenter the study. “The man, Stormtide… he stole Dr. Jenkins’ cane. Do you have any idea why?”

  “I believe the witches use… used the cane to contact Hal.”

  “Is it possible to contact the witches through it?”

  “I don’t know, but it may be that this… Stormtide, did you say? He may think that is possible.”

  This is definitely a trap. Stormtide wants me, so he can force the witches, specifically Amethyst Wolf, into res
toring his magical powers.

  My feet pound down the stairs. “Are you up for…”

  The question dies on my lips. By cutting my hair, my future changed slightly from the vision in the cauldron. Gavin and I aren’t together, and I haven’t used magic to get Paula and Sean to kiss. But to go to a forest that could be the one from my dreams… the place I fear will be where I die… What if going there tempts fate to start correcting things? That is, if fate is real and if fate cares about me.

  “You know where Vince is.” Gavin clenches and unclenches his hand.

  “Yes.” My throat is so tight I can scarcely get the word out.

  “Then let’s go.” Gavin starts toward the front door then glances over his shoulder and stops. “You don’t want my help anymore?”

  I jut my chin out stubbornly. “I can take it from here.”

  “Look, Crystal. I don’t know who you are or what you are. You aren’t exactly a witch, but you definitely have magic in you.”

  I half snort, half giggle. “And you’re a witch descended from a witch hunter.”

  “I’m not a witch!” His nostrils flare.

  “Neither am I,” I say coolly. “I don’t have time for this.”

  He blocks me but knows enough not to touch me. “At least tell me where Vince is. Maybe it’s time to call the police.”

  “And tell them what? That an ex-shaman kidnapped my boyfriend? I don’t think so. Besides, they won’t file a missing person case until twenty-four hours have passed.” I sidestep him and leave the house.

  He follows me. “That’s actually a TV myth, the whole waiting thing, but if you don’t want to involve them, fine. Is it far?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I’m sure we can get there faster by car. Even faster than if you fly.”

  He might be right. I don’t know how fast I can fly if I really push myself, but I need to conserve my strength and energy. Heavy magic usage always drains me. After my initial flying escapade, I slept until noon. Mom called school to let them know I was sick.

  “Fine, drive.” I need to be as well rested as possible before confronting Stormtide and whomever else we might meet.

  He grins and cracks his knuckles. “Where to?”