Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Cool,” Adley said, exhaled with a slow shake of his head. How hard was it to have a conversation with this woman? “I've been working the child murders for the past year now.” He watched for any reaction in the backseat.

  “Congrats.” Rachel looked out her side window. The low chuckle in the back made him snap his head up.

  “You got something to say, Hasting?” Adley asked before he flicked his eyes from the road to the mirror and back to the road.

  “Yeah, I got something to say. How's the investigation going for you, detective?”

  Adley glanced up and stared at the reflection of evil. The strong jaw, full lips and smooth skin would have looked handsome on anyone else. What emanated from inside made Hasting as ugly as hell.

  “Holy fuck, what’s that crazy bitch doing?” Rachel yelled.

  Adley jumped and snapped his attention back to the road. The brakes came to life, screaming as he pumped them. It wasn't so much what Rachel yelled which grabbed his attention. It was the fact that she spoke at all.

  The tires of the car skidded and he turned sharply. The car careened sideways, failing to respond to his commands. Adley pumped the brake, narrowly avoiding a woman dressed in white. The vehicle skidded to a stop.

  Adley scanned the rearview mirror, making sure he hadn’t hit the woman. She stood in the middle of the road behind him, waving her hands wildly and making her way toward the car. Adley dropped his gaze to the thing in the backseat, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition, any sign this was a setup. But there was nothing. Edric didn’t turn to look at the woman. It seemed like he didn’t even care. All Edric seemed interested in was staring at Adley.

  “Don’t worry, detective, she’s not my type. I like them younger, much younger.” Edric laughed.

  Adley hit the automatic window button and stuck his head out the window. He wrenched his head back over his right shoulder and looked behind the car as the woman made her way over to them. The sun blinded him and cast her silhouette into a shadow, obscuring her face so he couldn’t get a good look.

  “What the hell is she doing? Do you see a car anywhere?”

  Adley ignored the nit-picking questions from his partner and concentrated on the woman and what sat in the back seat. “Protocol says we can't stop for her.”

  The shape moved in front of the sun and reached for the boot of the car. Adley was already reaching for the radio, ready to call another unit until he saw the smeared blood her hand left behind on the back passenger’s window where Edric Hasting sat.

  Adley stared up into amber brown eyes, only now seeing the splattered blood across her chest. She reached for him with crimson-stained hands, Adley made out her words by the movement of her lips as she spluttered. “Please, help me.”

  “Jesus, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Adley fumbled on the door before he realized his duties and jerked his head toward his partner. “Call through to VKR.”

  He was out of the car in a second, reaching for the woman, who started to slump against the side of the car. Her eyes fluttered and her body sagged. He reached her just in time to break her fall.

  Rachel’s nagging voice bombarded him from inside the car. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

  “She’s fainted. Just give me a freaking minute.”

  He reached for her wrist and felt for her pulse. Her eyelids twitched, and then her eyes flew open. “Are you okay?”

  “My boyfriend is hurt… we had an accident. I think… he might be dead.”

  He glanced back at Edric and then to his partner. “Jesus. We can’t stop… we have to….”

  “Please, you have to help me! He might be dying!”

  Adley scanned the melaleuca trees alongside the road, searching for any sign of a break in the tree line. “Where did you crash?”

  “Somewhere over there, I think.” She pointed at the spindly grass trees which lined the road. “I was knocked out and when I woke up, Mark was hurt bad. There was blood, so much blood. I tried to help him, but I passed out.” The woman glanced toward Rachel and then to the backseat. Her sobs sounded painful and sincere. “I don’t know how long I was out. It could’ve been hours.”

  Adley eyed Hasting in the backseat. The murderer stared at the woman in a way which made his skin crawl. If they needed to give this woman a lift, there was no way he was letting Rachel share the back seat with this thing. As much as he hated the idea, he’d rather sit back there than risk having either of these women next to someone like Edric Hasting.

  He leaned over and grabbed the first-aid kit from the glove box. “Stay here and keep an eye on the prisoner. I'll go look.” He motioned for the woman to lead the way.

  Adley followed her down the road. She crossed the black asphalt, which disappeared into the blazing horizon, and he breathed deep. The air was humid, cooling with the evening.

  “Just over here.” She stepped off the road and headed toward the spindled trees. Adley followed, using his momentum to run up the small bank.

  Something struck him.

  Adley stumbled backwards, waving his hands through the air before a sickening thud echoed in his ears. He fell backwards, rolled, and came to his feet at the edge of the road. He reached to touch his head and then lowered his hand to stare at the blood which coating his fingers.

  “What the hell?” The haze of white struck him again. Pure instinct forced Adley to hold his hands up, defending not his face, but his chest and neck. A loud crunch made him gasp for breath as pain became a torturous song, reverberating through his body.

  Pain and the sickening sound of his tearing flesh told Adley he was about to die. Sharp teeth slashed at him. The woman in white was almost a blur around him, ripping into his body. And somehow, amidst the pain, he wondered why something so beautiful would be trying to kill him.

  Blood splattered his face as he absorbed another blow, sending him staggering backwards. He vaguely registered the fact it was his blood. The warm substance soaked through his shirt and ran down his stomach as he fought for his life. It all happened so fast. Adley fell to his knees as the sound of gunfire rang out.

  In a daze, he forced his head to the side. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the woman in white, yet he needed to find the source of the shot. Oh, God, no! Rachel stood in her practiced shooter's stance, holding her upper body rigid. Still the bullets went wide. He could see she was panicking. Her gaze jumped from him back to the woman and she fired at his attacker.

  The virginal, blood-soaked dress was shredded with the impact of the bullets. Flesh and blood rained on him and part of her intestine smacked him in the face. The creature laughed. Her eyes glinted with a murderous gaze. She turned from tearing into his thigh, stalking Rachel now, until their silhouettes blended into one.

  The woman never flinched as the forty-five caliber Glock gouged her body with hot lead fragments. Her dress bloomed in the back like red roses as the bullets hit their mark. Rachel's scream pierced through the fog in his mind. His eyes were heavy. Sleep called to him, sleep where there was no pain and he wanted to drift away. But something inside him held on. He could just hear the click of the trigger as it found the empty chambers of Rachel’s gun. Adley tried to speak, tried to save Rachel’s life. Keep fighting. Don't give up….

  He rolled carefully on to his side. Pain lashed his body. Adley ground his teeth together to stop from screaming out. The drive to save another cop outweighed his pain and fear. He needed to help her. He needed to do something to give her the chance to fight back.

  Adley pulled at his holster. He drove down the release catch and jerked out his gun. He took aim, praying he’d find the mark as this bitch now lowered her head to Rachel’s neck. He fired two shots. The woman in white stumbled forward. The back half of her head now decorated the silver Commodore in flecks of red and white.

  She staggered and twirled like a drunken ballerina toward Adley, hissing like an enraged animal. The sound made his blood run cold. His blurred vision ran red. That animal wore his
blood, and his partner’s blood. He wouldn’t let this be the end. Again, shoot… her… again! He took aim, but his hand wobbled and his eyes failed to focus. Shoot her! He had to try. Please God... don't let... me.... Movement was a battle of his will against his body. Adley tried to focus for one more second... one more shot... but he just didn't have the strength. His view of his partner dulled. He forced his eyes open.

  The bitch snarled and turned back to Rachel. Shoot! He screamed inwardly, panic filling him, but it was too late. He just didn’t have anything left in him. Their attacker lifted his partner high.

  His eyes closed… darkness. He forced them open.

  With one hand, the creature tore his partner’s head from her body. His heart skipped, losing time like an old watch.

  Darkness. He forced his eyes open.

  His partner’s headless body buckled and fell before the creature. A wig sailed through the air in an arc toward him… no, not a wig.

  Adley prayed the darkness would come again. This time he wouldn’t open his eyes.

  Rachel’s brown hair parted as her head came to rest in the gully next to him. The bloodless orbs that were once hard, critical eyes stared at him in a ghastly game of peek-a-boo. Her mouth hung open, laughing… screaming… Adley whimpered and tried to move away, but his body no longer obeyed his commands. Instead, he stared at the blood and mucus seeping from her neck, and shivered in the hot Australian sun. His skin burned under the glare, his sweat-stained shirt stuck hard against his back.

  The pain started to fade and he wanted to find peace... and yet somehow his senses sharpened in one last-ditch effort to scream with life. One final ‘fuck you’ to death. The hysterical screams from Edric Hasting filled his ears and he couldn’t help but smile. The image of Nathan, Luke, and his Matthew accompanied the sound. He felt a twinge of guilt his best friend would never know how much it hurt him to leave things the way he did.

  It won’t be long now, whispered a voice somewhere inside his mind, Edric scorching wails serenaded him. It wouldn’t be long for either of them.

  Chapter 4

  Edric

  THE METALLIC SCENT of blood drifted in, waking Edric instantly. His eyes snapped open, his senses on fire. He knew this scent so intimately. The redolent scent of death aroused him, and not just from his slumber. Releasing himself from his straining pants, he enclosed his hand around his growing thickness. That scent was where he found himself, locked between the scalpel and tender flesh. This pleasure was the moment he lived for, when he came alive.

  Pain was what he craved and this was what he gave himself, squeezing until he throbbed and then released, before he slid his hand along his shaft. The brutal pulling and gripping only made him thicker, harder. He closed his eyes and inhaled, willing the scent into his lungs and body, calling forth the images that excited him the most—fragile cries on the cusp of delirium, as they screamed for a mommy and daddy who’d never come.

  When he could take no more of the violent pleasure, he jerked, releasing his seed in a silent river along his stomach. As always, he felt disappointed the euphoria couldn't last. But, even his disappointment was short-lived. For the chase was what excited him the most, and his thoughts lingered on the one who got away. The boy... the copper's kid.

  A pile of clothes sat neatly on a chair next to the bed. Edric stood and shed the remainder of his prisoner’s garb. His legs trembled, but he made his way into the small bathroom. He turned on the icy water, and stepped in, relishing the water’s driving sting.

  The killing of the two police yesterday came as a surprise, a pleasant one. Although at the time he thought he, too, had met his end. His surviving was a fate he hadn’t counted on. When arrested, he’d prepared himself to spend the next three years getting jacked in the ass and eating more than his fair share of cock, until he was released, or dead. After tearing the door off the car and snapping his steel cuffs like cheap plastic, she’d casually told him her name was Mercy and she’d been waiting for him. Watching her, huddled in the back of the police car, he’d thought she was the most exotic killer he had ever seen. He’d never seen anyone so inhumanly powerful, but she had to be human... she couldn't be anything else.

  As she tore into the female detective, he felt a fire burn him from the inside, and for a moment, he thought this must be what love felt like. But he was unsure. He loved no one and nothing.

  He lathered his body under the cold water and took the razor to his face, which left him feeling fresh and clean. His thoughts turned to escape. The police vehicle was parked in the garage at the back of the house. He’d driven it here under Mercy's instructions. Normally he wouldn't have taken too kindly to others' demands, but instinct told him to do whatever this killer said. He’d need to hurry, burn the car, and move on alone. As fun as Mercy was, or could be, he worked alone.

  He dressed and wiped the surfaces with his dirty shirt, placing it along with his other clothes in a pile on the floor. He’d leave no trace of himself here, or anywhere for that matter. He’d need to disappear and lay low somewhere after burning the car. The police would be all over it, once it was found, and then they’d be on the hunt for him.

  The scent of blood still lingered, although it wasn't as strong as before—pity. He pulled the sheets from his bed, bound his clothes, his towel, and went in search of the source. The scent grew stronger as he moved deeper into the house in hunting for his host. At first, his gaze passed her over. She sat motionless, like a statue, all legs and brown flowing hair. Her white dress was the thinnest slip over her voluptuous body, clinched tightly at the waist. His eyes were instantly drawn to her pale skin and the curves of her breasts. No bra? Nice, the less I have to cut off.

  Then she smiled and he felt the pit of his stomach drop away. His instincts screamed—on high alert, though no threat was made. No one had ever made him feel like this before, no one. So why did she?

  He tried to suppress the urge to flee. He was the apex predator here—not this woman. He wanted to walk over and drive his fist between those brown eyes, to show her who he really was. He was swept away in the fantasy. How long until she broke? Until she begged for mercy? He licked his lips as the image of her torn body filled his head. He wondered how she’d hate it if he took her with his body as well as his knife. Mercy... yes, he’d make this bitch scream.

  “Do you know why my Master named me that?” she said, her voice as seductive as her body.

  Master? “What?”

  “Mercy. Do you know why my Master named me Mercy?”

  Could she have read my mind? Surely no. Play it cool. “No, why’s that?”

  “It’s simple,” she said as she uncrossed her legs and stood, covering the distance between them in a blink of his eye. “Because I have none.”

  He could feel the blood rush from his face. She watched him intently.

  “Well, I'm not sure what this knight in shining armor thing is, but thank you. I'll take the car and burn it. Don’t worry, there won't be anything left to trace it back to you.”

  She laughed. The bark echoed inside the room around him. Yet somehow he knew her amusement wasn't because he was entertaining. “You are such a delicious creature, you know?”

  He made sure his tone was steady. He weighed his response carefully, feeling as though his life hinged on avoiding the wrong tone and the wrong response. “Yeah, how so?”

  “So... limited.”

  He blanched and his gut churned, whispering that something in this scene felt totally fucking wrong. “Okay, how about I just leave now?”

  He turned and moved quickly, the siren in his gut screaming now. The fucking thing was so loud he couldn't think. All he could do was feel the warning. Get out!

  He made it to the end of the room before the blurred, shapeless form sharpened, leaving her standing in front of him. He turned his head back to look at the spot where she’d stood only a heartbeat ago. There was no way she could've moved that quick... there was no fucking way.

  “Sorry, Edric
. But I can't let you go. Not after all the trouble I took getting you here.”

  Easy. He stopped and moved backwards. He was still in control here. He wasn’t going to run screaming like a fucking girl. “Yeah, well. Thanks.”

  “Always in control, aren't you?” She strode forward, like she was the hunter and he was her prey.

  Goddamn, she was fucking amazing, gliding along the floor toward him. He was caught between wanting to fucking worship her or run. You wouldn’t get far even if you did. The revelation made him stop. There was nothing he could do while he watched her advance except listen to the voice in his head that wasn’t his.

  “I have been watching you for a while now, Edric. I know all about your dark little secret, your fondness for little children.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  She clucked her tongue, the scolding gesture stopping his panicked thoughts. “What if I told you I wanted to help you, Edric? What if I told you I could make you the greatest killer to walk this Earth?”

  Her boast was as mesmerizing as her body. The ego in him wanted to listen, wanted to nod his head and discuss fucking details. Easy. He warned himself, knowing he was vulnerable at this moment. “Not sure what you've got going on here, but I think you have the wrong person.”

  “Pity, I thought they would look good on you.”

  The words left his lips without him even realizing; her seduction was better than he thought. “What would?”

  “These,” she said and launched her body at him, throwing him to the ground. He grabbed her arms and pushed, trying to throw her off. But she was strong, unbelievably strong, and he was no slouch. He’d been an athlete, with a strict regime of running, swimming, and weights, but as hard as he tried, there was no way he could make her budge. Her hands were like a vice around him. She opened her mouth, the white incisors elongated and sharp. Jesus fucking Christ, they’re fangs. “What the fuck?”