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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  My mouth grows dry. “You wouldn’t hurt your son’s girlfriend?”

  As if bored, he starts to pick at his fingernails. “Why would you think that?”

  I say nothing.

  “You aren’t my son’s girlfriend.”

  There’s no point in lying, but I maintain my silence.

  “My son is such a disappointment. He doesn’t want to continue in the great Venator witch hunter line. Why I don’t understand. Witches aren’t natural. Magic brings out the worst in people. It makes them greedy, selfish, self-centered. It needs to be eradicated from the Earth.”

  I can’t keep quiet any longer. “Gavin can choose to live his life the way he wants to.”

  “Not if I don’t agree.” Mr. Venator tosses the dagger from one hand to the other, his gaze always on me, not the weapon, but he never comes close to hurting himself. Such reckless disregard, yet he seems to be in complete control.

  “He is not a failure—”

  “He cares for you deeply, even though you do not return his affection. You care for him.”

  I clench my teeth, my heart aching for Vince, hurting me more than my wounds. The moment has finally come. I’m in love with Vince. I love him, will always love him.

  “Let him go,” I growl.

  “Now why would I do that?” He turns his back to me then whips around, throwing the dagger at me.

  My hand raises, and the dagger stops, hovering in mid-air, a good foot away from me. It spirals in place, the metal gleaming in contrast to the dreariness around us.

  Ropes materialize in his hands, and he twirls a lasso above his head. He throws it at me.

  At the last second, I sidestep it. He yanks it back, but I grab it and set it on fire. The flames zoom across it, back toward his hand. Before he’s burned, the rope disappears.

  Mr. Venator disappears too.

  I race away. The scenery never changes. Bitter coldness seeps into me. If anything, it’s getting wintrier, and I half expect there to be snow on the ground.

  Turning, I switch directions and proceed to the south. After running another four minutes, my chest heaves and my side aches from a sticker. It’s surreal, my feeling pain within Vince’s mind.

  I bend over, hands on my knees, gasping down air. It would easy to magic this away, but I’m not sure if I should. I need my power to battle Mr. Venator, but I can’t have my physical body weak.

  After a brief rest, I continue on, this time walking. The cold fades away, replaced with moisture as rain pours from the sky. Within seconds, I’m drenched.

  Is this grayness a part of the nightmare, or separate? What does Vince hate the most? Besides losing family and friends, that is. Not the cold, not heat. Rain. Yes, he hates rain, sleet, hail, snow.

  If this is still a part of the nightmare, then the real Vince might be trapped somewhere nearby.

  I hope.

  The wind picks up, rain giving way to hail, and I raise my hand to protect my face. I walk and walk and walk. Nothing ever changes. No Vince. No Mr. Venator either.

  I stop. If I turn eastward, I’ll return to the cold region. To the west, I suspect, will be heat. There’s no point in continuing south. With this weather, I’ll never be able to find Vince. Which leaves north. Who knows what waits for me there?

  Lacking a better idea, I rush northward, sneezing several times from the precipitation. I can’t stop shivering. Eventually the hail reverts into rain, and finally, the rain stops.

  Even though I try to think only of Vince, my thoughts betray me, and I fear what I will find if I continue this way. My biggest fear lies not with the sun or lack thereof nor with precipitation.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it…

  Just like a little child, the more I try not to think about it, the more I think about it. My earliest memory. I was four. My parents took me to the beach. My dad thought it would be a great idea to bury me in the sand. I screamed and screamed, terrified of being trapped in the sand.

  Two years later, Mom and I visited a cousin in California. A few days before Christmas, the earth rocking and rolling woke me. I turned on the news in time to watch a building collapse. That night, I had a nightmare—the earth beneath me gave way and swallowed me whole. Whenever I’m overly stressed or worried, I have the same nightmare.

  The gray I walk on shifts beneath my feet. I barely have time to react before I’m in the air. The gray ground cracks apart, opening like a giant mouth, the hole pure darkness.

  I gulp. Flying will hopefully keep me safe from earthquakes.

  Is this part of the nightmare a construct for me?

  Regardless, I have to hurry. If Vince is here, he won’t be able to fly to avoid the cracked openings that splinter everywhere.

  The landscape transforms around me. The blackness from within the cracks zoom up as if to eat me, and suddenly there are walls around me, the grayness far above, the path stretching before me wide. A low rumbling sounds, and the walls close in, rocks and pebbles raining down. I fly straight up and manage to leave the crevice beneath me. It seals itself back up as if it had never been a fissure to begin with.

  I don’t have time to sigh with relief. Before me is a reddish brown color, and when I cross over, my magic fails me. I drop to the ground with a thud, my wounded arms unable to prevent me from slamming my face onto the ground. One of my shoulders aches horribly. I may have separated it earlier. In my worry for Vince, I hadn’t felt the pain of it until now.

  Using my good shoulder and arm to stand, I scramble to my feet and stagger forward. If more earthquakes are coming, I won’t be able to outrun them. I’d fall, perhaps to my death.

  And if I die here, will my physical body also die?

  Chapter 35

  MY ACHING LEGS won’t allow me to run. My body’s shutting down. I can scarcely catch my breath, my ears ring, and my vision dulls around the edges.

  Whatever you do, don’t panic.

  Too late. My throat closes, and bright lights explode before me. I sway on my feet.

  Calm down. You can do this. Think about Vince.

  Closing my eyes helps to clear my head. My breathing returns to normal, and I’m in control again.

  I open my eyes. One foot in front of the other. After several paces, I attempt to fly again, but an invisible force field grounds me.

  No fire comes when I open my palm.

  My magic truly is blocked.

  Panic threatens to overwhelm me again, but I shove it away. Even if I can’t do anything magical here, I’ll still find a way to save Vince. His life, and maybe mine too, depends on it.

  Even so, every few steps, I attempt to do something with my power and fail each time.

  In the distance is a dark speck. Vince? I race toward it.

  No. It’s a large hole. Bits of the red ground crumple beneath my feet and fall like small rocks into the cavernous opening. I back up slowly.

  The ground rumbles. My body trembles uncontrollably from the force of the earthquake. Several feet away, the ground cracks open, splinters forming, some heading straight for me.

  I can’t risk falling, so I start to climb down the large hole. The walls shake, pebbles and rocks flying all around me. My fingers dig into my handholds as the small foothold I stand on crumples to nothing. My lower body slams into the wall.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  Of course I do. Only emptiness awaits me.

  My fingers can’t hold on any longer when my feet finally find holes, and I resume my descent. Time’s running out. If I don’t find, and save, Vince soon, he’ll be lost to me forever. I know this in both my mind and my heart.

  The walls shake, more violently than before. Large chunks of the wall break off and fall on either side of me. I pick up my pace. A foothold, another, a handhold, another, a foothold…

  Without notice, something heavy falls on my head. Instinctively, I bring up my hands, and I lose my grip on the wall. I plummet. So does the massive rock that hit me. If a boulder that
size hit my head in the real world, I would’ve died. My mind grows fuzzy, pounding from the collision. I turn my head to the side and vomit. Great. Do I have a concussion? Just what I need.

  The freefall lasts forever, the huge rock only a few inches above me. I fail to blast it into a million pieces with my magic.

  I’m going to get crushed… unless there is no bottom. Just an endless hole. I’ll spend the rest of my life falling…

  No. I’m not ready to give up.

  I grab the rock and climb until I’m on top of it and sat down. The walls stop shaking. The earthquake’s over. How many more I can survive, I don’t know and I don’t want to find out.

  The scenery never changes. Darkness below, reddish brown walls on either side. I’m stuck.

  I stare into the darkness. Vince, wherever you are, I’ll find you. Don’t be scared.

  Within my mind, I swear I hear a response. Crystal, whatever you do, don’t come here.

  In my excitement, I start to stand. The rock shifts, circling, and I crawl to keep on top of it until it stops spinning. I settle on top of it again.

  Vince, can you hear me?

  Yes.

  My heart warms to hear his voice, even if it’s with my mind and not my ears. Where are you?

  Don’t worry about me. It’s not safe for you here.

  I snort. And it’s safe for you?

  No answer.

  Is he still there? Desperation and fright worsens my headache. Vince, I—

  I know.

  So you know why I have to—

  Love isn’t always enough.

  He’s given up. Isn’t willing to fight anymore. The Vince I hear in my mind sounds broken, lost. As if everything important has been stripped of him, and all he has left are hurts and regrets.

  Why can’t it be? I send to him.

  I used to think… It doesn’t matter now.

  I slam my fist onto the rock. What about your parents, Vince? Do you think they can handle losing another son?

  He doesn’t respond.

  And what about me? You matter to me, Vince. I care about you. I—

  Don’t you see, Crystal? This isn’t about love.

  I slam my fists onto the rock. My stomach’s churning, but I refuse to be sick again. Then what is it about?

  It’s a trap.

  How could I have been so stupid? All of this is just another trap for me, Vince still the bait, only now instead of only his body, it’s his mind. First Stormtide, now Mr. Venator…

  Vince, are you alone right now?

  Yes.

  Where are you?

  I can’t move. I can’t see. I can’t do anything. His frustrations bleed through into his thoughts.

  Are you tied up?

  A few moments pass. No.

  Then why can’t you move?

  Because I’m in a confined space. I have just enough room to breathe.

  I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. Is it possible? He does sound close, even if his voice is only in my mind.

  Having nothing to lose, I dig into the top of the rock. Pebbles and dirt erode away from the surface. A fingernail bends back, but I keep tunneling.

  Crystal? Are you still there? I’m probably going crazy. Imagining her voice in my head.

  I’m here, Vince. And don’t worry. A trap won’t keep me from coming.

  But, Crystal—

  But nothing. I scrape so much a hole forms. Can you see light?

  Nope.

  Refusing to accept that my wild theory is wrong, I dig harder, faster. Time seems suspended in this place. I glance at the walls. The rock and I are still falling.

  Then I lean over and glance down and immediately wish I hadn’t.

  The seemingly endless hole isn’t bottomless. And I’m heading straight for the cave floor.

  Chapter 36

  TERRIFIED, I SCREAM.

  What’s wrong?

  I stop yelling. “You heard me?” I ask aloud. Is my crazy, desperate theory accurate?

  There’s a short pause. “Yes.”

  Hearing Vince’s voice, with my ears and not just inside my mind, destroys me. A single tear rolls down my cheek and drops into the hole I carved into the rock. It’s too cruel, finding Vince inside the boulder when we’re a minute away from being smashed into smithereens.

  Maybe our close proximity allowed for our mental communication.

  Mental.

  Mental block.

  Maybe that’s why I can’t access my magic here. Because Mr. Venator somehow gave me a mental block!

  Now that I know what to look for, I can feel the block against my mind like a physical entity within me. Precious seconds tick by as I slam into it with mental fire, with wind, with a tsunami, but nothing prevails against it. The barrier—I can practically see it, all gray and prison-bar like—refuses to be broken.

  “What’s wrong, Crystal?” Vince asks.

  I close my eyes. Within my heart is my magic, as well as my love for Vince. If anything can help me save him, it’s that.

  Please, dear Lord, I need your help now more than ever. I know I’m not human, that I’m magic, but I still want to be one of Your children. Please heed my cry and help me, and Vince.

  My heart burns, and I gasp from the pain. Energy courses within me from my heart to every part of my body. My magic is still within me, has always been there. It flows throughout my body, and I assume my true form. The barrier shatters.

  There’s no time to waste. With my mind, I create a small seed and throw it to the ground that’s racing up to meet us. My magic nurtures the seed, forcing it to grow as if each second is a hundred years. It blossoms into a huge, leafy tree. I bend the branches to form something similar to a baseball mitt.

  A second later, the rock crashes into the tree. The impact jars me so harshly I’m yanked back into my human form. A large fissure splinters down the sides of the rock.

  Vince?

  “Vince!”

  If the collision injured him… if it did worse… I should have figured out another way to save us…

  I push the two sides of the rock apart with my feet. With a cracking sound, the rock fissures open like an egg. There’s not enough light for me to see inside, to see if Vince is all right.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  I glance wildly around until I locate Mr. Venator. After one last look at the rock, I float down to stand several feet away from him. “What do you want from me?”

  “Do you know how special you are, girl?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not here to talk or answer questions. I just want to save Vince and go.”

  “Ah, yes, the boy. Encasing him in that rock seemed so clever at the time. How was I supposed to know that your biggest fear was an earthquake? Or that one would dislodge his rock from its hiding spot? But all that is immaterial. You may have found him, but you haven’t rescued him yet, and you certainly aren’t leaving.”

  “Why do you hate me? Because I’m a…” What had the supposed Thunderstruck called me? “Because I’m an abomination?”

  “You aren’t an abomination. You are the rebirth, the renewal. You are the one who will finally destroy all those with magic.”

  He wants me to end the war between the witches and the shamans, but not by choosing one side and helping them win. No, he wants both sides annihilated.

  How anyone could think I’d be a party to a massacre I don’t know. “And what then? If I did destroy them?”

  “Then I will kill you.” His lips curl into a nasty smile.

  “And the world will no longer have any magic within it.”

  “None.” Looking like a cat that caught the canary, he steeples his fingers and lifts his eyebrows, as if daring me to defy him.

  Defy him I will. Despite this hellish place he’s created, he doesn’t scare me. Nothing he can say or do will get me to do as he wishes.

  I float higher above him. “Mr. Venator, do you believe in miracles?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Wh
at’s your point?”

  “Only that you can’t decide whether or not there is magic in the world. I can’t either. It’s not up to us.” I look upward even though the sky isn’t above me.

  “Superstitious religious nonsense.”

  “You are an ignorant fool.” I sound convincing, firm, but I’m still questioning it myself. Does God exist?

  “I’m not some heathen like the shamans,” he growls.

  I rub my chin and lower myself to the ground. “Do you kill them too, or only witches?”

  “My family has hunted down the witches for centuries now. My father and I are the first to pay attention to the shamans.”

  “You mean use them for your gain.”

  “In some instances.” He holds up his hand. “But enough talking. We can go on and on, arguing politics and religion and the purpose of the world, but not now. There is something I need you to do.”

  The audacity of the man! “What’s that?”

  “I’ll allow you and that boy…” He juts his chin toward the rock in the tree. “To leave if you promise to convince my son to follow his legacy and embrace his right as a witch hunter. I know you, good little religious girl. You always keep your word.”

  I smile inwardly. Could it be that simple, that easy? I may be religious, but I’m no saint, and I’m far from perfect. In fact, my most common sin is lying.

  “Don’t even think about crossing me,” he adds idly. “It was all too easy for me to convince Stormtide to kidnap the boy. I could do so myself next time. Or I could just kill him.”

  My anger bubbles up within me, igniting beyond the point of control. With an inhumane yell, I raise my arm and blast Mr. Venator.

  He disappears.

  Strong hands grip my throat. I claw at him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Blackness dots my vision. I lift my foot and kick backward, connecting with his upper thigh.

  Mr. Venator releases me and staggers back. A small vial is in his hand. He winds up. Before he can throw it, I shatter the glass. A puff of green smoke escapes and dissipates into the air. To my disappointment, he’s unfazed.

  “I’ve hunted a lot of witches over the years,” he remarks.

  A decent-sized rock sits on the ground behind him. My emotions are too scattered for me to be able to lift it magically.