Tales From The Mist: An Anthology of Horror and Paranormal Stories

by Scott Nicholsonan

  I made myself a fresh cup of tea and sank into a kitchen chair, exhausted and still tense. I could do the rest of the night alone, couldn’t I? I didn’t always have to solve every mystery I encountered. Maybe if I didn’t go back upstairs, the evening would quiet down. I lifted my mug to my lips. Immediately, the doorbell rang.

  “Mack!” I growled. I’d had enough. I’d been cordial. I’d humored him. Now I was just plain spitting mad. So I clomped down the long hallway and popped on the porch light. But it wasn’t Mack’s silhouette that stood on the porch.

  I opened the door to a masked crusader.

  “What are you doing here, Keith?” I asked. “What about the party at the Shack?”

  “The party was fun, but I found I couldn’t really get into it, not without you there. So I thought I’d drop by.” He lifted a carton that held two paper coffee cups. “Your favorite blend from Jumpin’ Java.” His other hand held a chess set. “I can try to beat you again. Or if you’re not up for a game, I have a book I can read. Or send me home if you think having me here would be unprofessional. It’s your call. I just wanted to see if you’d like company for the night.”

  I pulled Keith inside, to me. His mouth met mine, and his mustache tickled my upper lip. The caretakers who had fled—they’d been in the house alone. Now with Keith here, as I closed and locked the door behind him, all feelings of being watched and creepy sensations dissipated like mist.

  “My only question,” Keith said, “is about my mask.” He lowered it over his eyes. “Should I keep it or lose it?”

  “Keep the mask,” I said, taking the coffee and chess box away from him and placing them on the side table so nothing was between us. “I like a little mystery in my life.”

  About Tamara

  Amazon Bestselling Mystery and Romantic Suspense Author Tamara Ward’s storyline and characters combine for fun, fast–paced, can’t–put–it–down reads. Her published mystery novels include Private Deception, Storm Surge, and Silver Flashing. In Tamara Ward's mysteries, you’ll find characters who keep readers hooked, strong–willed women sleuths, and a sprinkling of humor.

  For more information, visit Tamara Ward’s blog at http://www.authortamaraward.blogspot.com/.

  IN A BEGINNING

  By Meredith Bond

  How could he do this to me? How dare he treat me that way? I’d rather take my chances outside the Garden of Eden than deal with him! That … that … ugh! I could barely form the words in my mind, I was so angry.

  My chest heaved, even though I’d not run a step. I’d walked—all right, maybe stormed—through the forest. But can you blame me? After Adam had lorded it over me like I was some insect he could just step on?

  Well, I’m sorry, but we were made at the same time, from the same fucking dust. We are equals, and if he can’t deal with that, well, then he can just go hang. I’m out of here. I’ll go find someplace else to live where I won’t have to deal with the likes of him!

  I pushed my way through a jungle of trees, the dense growth almost suffocating. I stomped through bunches of thickly growing flowers, their velvet petals tickling my legs. I nearly tripped over roots, and stubbed my toe too many times to count … before I got to the border of the Garden.

  I stopped. My heart pounded in my head as I looked out at … nothing. There was nothing.

  My toes nestled in soft grass. Fragrant trees crowded me. But before me was nothing but sand. Not a tree, shrub or flower to break the infinite expanse of blazing white.

  I turned and looked back at the Garden. Adam was back there, amidst the verdant plenty, royally exerting his will over anything that dared come within his view.

  Well, fuck him!

  With a growl, I stepped off the cool grass and onto the blazing sand. To hell with Adam and his arrogance. I could make it out here. I didn’t need him and his chauvinist attitude.

  Damn, it was hot! The sand burned the bottom of my feet. The sun blazed down, uninhibited by trees or foliage of any kind.

  Is this hell? I wondered. It sure was hot enough.

  And dry. There wasn’t a drop of water in any direction. Nothing. Even the air was dry.

  I gritted my teeth, headed north, and walked. And walked.

  And walked.

  And walked, until my throat was parched and my legs ached. I must have inhaled a pound of sand, my lungs felt so heavy.

  Every inch of my skin burned from the sun. Sweat poured off me, tickling its way down my body, but doing nothing to cool me. The back of my knees itched with it.

  Barren hills reached up to the sky. I climbed over them. Jagged outcroppings of rock looked as if they had been shoved up from the earth by an angry hand and then sheared off at the top. I walked around them.

  As the sun began to wane in the west, something shimmered off to my right. Was it my imagination? Was it the heat rising off the ground?

  I changed directions. A scraggly tree appeared ahead. Just beyond it, low–lying brush began breaking up the sand at odd, random intervals.

  And then I saw it. Water! Blessed, cool water.

  I could only stumble to a stop and take it in—such an incredibly beautiful sight. The river stretched off in endless beauty, yet I could still make out hills and rocks on the far side.

  I started running. My muscles screamed in protest, but I ignored them. The sand beneath my feet turned to sharp, painful rocks, but they hardly slowed me down. The scrub brush growing near the river scraped painfully across my sensitive, burnt skin, but I was going to get to that water. I had to.

  I hop–skipped forward until I reached the shore, and there I paused, anticipating the moment. At the edge, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose, grateful that the air was no longer bitterly dry as it filled my lungs. Ever so slowly, I dipped my toe into the water, almost afraid it would disappear the moment I did so.

  It didn’t.

  With a laugh of insane joy, I ran straight into the river, dropping until my entire burning body was covered by the cool, sweet water. A sigh escaped my lips as all of my muscles relaxed. I dipped my head back to cool my scalp. My long, brown hair flowed out around me as I shook it to free all of the sand and heat that had accumulated in it from the long day.

  “Hmmmmm.” A deep growl of appreciation penetrated my mind.

  That wasn’t coming from me.

  My head shot up and I looked around. A gorgeous man stood watching me from the riverbank. He wasn’t boyish like Adam—no, this was definitely a man. His black hair shone almost blue in the sunlight, curling down to just touch his broad shoulders. His muscled arms crossed over his well–defined chest. And his erection and the lustful smile on his face made it quite clear just how much he was appreciating the view in front of him.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Samael. Welcome to my domain.” His honey–and–leather voice perfectly matched his looks.

  I stood on the rocky river floor, the water lapping at my waist, and slowly moved closer to Samael. His eyes were intensely blue, smiling at me in a way that made me prickle with fear, and yet feel oddly warm despite the cool of the air on my wet body. “Thank you. I am Lilith.”

  “I figured as much,” he said with a nod. “And what brings you here? Why are you not frolicking and,” he waved a negligent hand, “so forth in the Garden with Adam?”

  I pursed my lips together, debating the prudence of telling him exactly what I thought of that chauvinist bastard. I didn’t know who this guy was. I’d never heard of him, and yet he knew who I was. And knew about Adam.

  “We didn’t get along so well,” I said, leaning toward discretion.

  He raised his eyebrows at that. “Really?”

  “Do you mind if I stay here for a little while?” I asked. How long would depend on Samael—and if there was anything to eat, I thought, realizing that I was starving. I hadn’t thought to bring any food with me from the Garden.

  He smiled. “Not at all. Feel free to stay as long as you
like.” He paused, then added in almost a whisper, “forever.”

  Chills coated my body. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. On the other hand, Samael was hot. He was nearly as cute as Adam, possibly even more so. His voice was deeper, his chest was broader, his arms thicker with muscle. My eyes strayed lower. In fact, everything about him was bigger than Adam.

  His smile deepened as he reached out a hand to guide me back on to the shore. I tried to ignore the electricity in his touch as, without a word, he led me upstream to a small copse filled with fruit trees.

  I ran to grab at the fruit, gathering all that I could eat and more. I took bite after bite, the sweet juices running down my chin. Samael just laughed at my eagerness.

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I said around an enormous mouthful of apple.

  “It’s quite all right. As you can see, I have plenty to share. If you don’t fill yourself up on fruit, I’ll see if I can find a hare or other meat for us to eat.”

  I opened my eyes wide at that. I’d never eaten the flesh of an animal before. “How can you eat one of God’s creatures?” I asked, appalled.

  Samael just laughed. “You’ll see. It’s delicious.”

  He left me then, and I finished eating my third apple before going back to the water to cleanse myself of the sticky fruit juice.

  That night we dined on succulent, roasted hare. And Samael did something that made me gape at him and wonder if I was dreaming. He asked me what I liked and how I felt about the world around me. Adam had never talked to me—nothing beyond a few commands for me to do this or do that. Talking, having a conversation was simply something I’d never done before.

  And as I talked, hesitantly at first and then opening up about my wonders and frustrations, he listened with interest, sometimes pensive, sometimes melting me with that dazzling smile.

  I wondered how long it took to fall in love.

  Over the next days, Samael showed me how to catch the hares that came out to nibble at the sweet vegetation growing by the river, and how to skin and cook them as well. I learned more from him about how to live—really live—than I ever had in the Garden. And not once did he issue a command or try to force me to his will. In fact, he didn’t even lay a hand on me. Not once. I knew that he thought about it, because his body betrayed his thoughts on more than one occasion.

  He ignored it, so I did too, though my own body ached for him as well.

  This was more like it. This was the way I wanted to live. I had food, shelter, and an interesting person who treated me as an equal with respect and kindness. I was happy.

  About a week later, Samael and I were sharpening stones to use in cutting our food when visitors showed up. Three angels appeared in front of us. They frowned at me for a full minute, their arms crossed menacingly not saying anything, so I frowned right back at them.

  “Hail to thee, blessed woman of the Garden. We have come from the Almighty God, Lord and King,” the one in the center finally said, in a grand, echoing voice.

  “I assumed as much,” I replied, crossing my arms to show just how scared I was of them—not at all.

  He glared at me for a moment, but continued on, “Our God, the great King and Ruler, bade us come and ask you to return to the Garden.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that. God wanted me to return to the Garden? He was asking me to return? Asking me? Not commanding me? Well, well, well. I liked the sound of that!

  “Will Adam treat me as an equal?” I asked.

  “There is no reason for him to do so,” said the angel on the right.

  Oops. I just shook my head. When would they learn? So stupid. “In that case, I will stay right where I am, thank you very much.”

  “But the Almighty one has asked you to return!” the middle one exclaimed, so shocked that it lost its attitude for a minute there.

  “It was very kind of Him to ask. But if Adam is not willing to treat me as an equal, I’m afraid the answer is no.”

  “How can you …?”

  “Very easily, actually. I’m happy here. Samael treats me with the respect I deserve. Adam does not and will not, so I see no reason to return to him. That is all. You may go now.” I waved an imperial hand, dismissing them.

  All three of them continued to glare at me for a moment, before disappearing in a puff of baleful smoke.

  “Well done,” Samael said with pride, as if he was the one who had taught me to behave that way.

  I raised my eyebrows at his temerity, but couldn’t help let loose the smile that threatened to burst onto my lips. I, too, was proud of myself.

  With an odd precision, Samael put down the stone he had been sharpening. His hand hovered over it, minutely adjusting it this way and that on the ground. “You said you would stay here with me,” he began.

  I continued watching his hand. He picked up the stone again and ran his thumb down to the sharp edge. “Yes,” I answered, getting the feeling I should be nervous about something.

  I could feel his stare boring into me, so I looked up. His eyes had turned black, as if his pupils had taken over all of their natural color. My nervousness increased to a tingle of warning running down my spine.

  “Promise me,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Promise me you will stay with me forever.”

  An intense chill brushed across my arms even though the air was still. “Forever is a very long time.”

  Samael gave a short nod to acknowledge my words, but his expression remained serious and focused. “Promise me,” he repeated.

  Something inside me screamed to say no. Something inside was now very, very scared. Something knew that this wasn’t right. I shouldn’t do it.

  But somehow the words slipped onto my tongue and then drifted through my lips. “I promise.”

  He reached out and, without breaking eye contact, took my hand. A sharp pain made me look down. He had cut my finger with his stone! I watched as he did the same to his own finger and then pressed his to mine, our blood mingling together.

  “Say it again,” he commanded.

  I swallowed. “I–I promise to stay with you.”

  “Forever,” he prompted.

  “Forever. I promise to stay with you forever.” Before I could even close my lips over the words, heat flooded me, burning me from the inside out. My hand flew to my chest and I hunched forward. A cry of pain broke from me, but Samael placed a cooling hand on my head. Slowly he traced his fingers down one side of my face. They continued to travel down my neck to my chest, where the burning was making it difficult to breathe. As he flattened his hand against the center of my chest, the heat began to abate, cooling quickly. Within moments the pain receded.

  I looked up at him silently asking what had happened.

  “You are my consort now and forever. You will bear my children and whatever you ask for shall be granted. Within reason,” he added a smile.

  “I don’t understand …” I began.

  “You will.” And with that, he got up and walked away, leaving me to stare after him in confusion.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but I was certain it wasn’t good.

  That night, Samael came to me. We’d been sleeping side–by–side every night, but this night he touched me. With his lips, with his tongue, with his fingers, with his whole body. He made slow, sweet love to me, dominating me the way Adam had, but then allowing me to dominate him. The pleasure was exquisite—nothing like what I’d experienced with Adam. Adam had entered me roughly, pounded a few sharp strokes and then spilled his seed into me with shouts of satisfaction and supremacy. Samael was slow and gentle. He teased me and made me moan, and eventually scream with pleasure.

  And he didn’t mind when I was on top.

  The following morning, I awoke to find myself heavy with child.

  I waddled over to Samael. “What the hell? Would you look at this?” I said, pointing to my belly. “I could have sworn God said something about a number of months of pregnancy.”

  He
just smiled at me and gave me a kiss. “It is just as it should be. I’ll go hunting. You stay here and take care of yourself.”

  I swear, he practically skipped away.

  By mid–morning I was in labor and by noon I had a babe in my arms, sweet and innocent. The pain of childbirth flitted away as suddenly as the pregnancy had appeared. I looked at Samael, who looked as happy as a new father should.

  But I knew this wasn’t right. I didn’t know babies, but something about this child was … off.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not know?”

  I shook my head. I had a really bad feeling I wasn’t going to like his answer, but I had to know.

  “I am a demon, and now so are you.”

  I watched in growing horror as the veins in his neck stood out in his excitement. He smiled, but it was a cruel smile—a smile filled with such horrible anticipation that my stomach turned to stone. The pupils in his eyes once again lost all of their color, turning black as night, and his face became a mottled red.

  “Together, you and I, Lilith, we will populate the world with demons. We will rule over all that is and all that will be.”

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Terror burned into my stomach. “Never!” I jumped up, taking the baby and running with it from the monster that Samael had become. I ran to the river’s edge, where the water churned over rocks and threw the baby, the demon, into the water. With a sob, I watched my beautiful child’s head smash against the rocks and then get carried away downstream.

  “What have you done?” Samael screamed behind me.

  “There is no way I am going to populate the world with you, demon!” I wanted it to come out strong, to be fierce in my certainty. But as I watched my baby float away, my sobs cut through my words.

  “No? Need I cast you out?” Samael asked, his own voice tight with anger. “Will you wander the desert until you can stand no longer? Until you burn in the heat? You will, but you will never die. You will live forever in torment, for I will not take you back. Or will you return to Adam, and let him dominate you for the rest of his life? You are like me now, remember? You will never die.”