Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Good to know,” I said, though a little softer than I intended.

  Michael noticed and pushed up on his hands, forcing me to slide off his back. He turned to me and cupped the side of my cheek in his large hand.

  “Hey, don’t get so tense on me. He’s out of our lives. You know that.”

  I tried to return the smile but it didn’t quite stick. “Yeah, but he’s always been a wild card. I can’t shake the feeling that he won’t try to come after us again.”

  “Well, you’ve gotten pretty good at kicking his ass so I think we’re safe,” the archangel said, pressing a light kiss to my lips. I allowed myself to be lost in his touch and then a couple minutes later I was lying on my back and my shirt was on the floor and I knew exactly what would happen if I didn’t stop it.

  It took a massive amount of will power to quit kissing him but I finally did, suppressing a wistful sigh. “It’s late. We probably shouldn’t, uh…you know.”

  He grinned. “I’m so happy you’re the voice of reason in this relationship.”

  I flicked him in the forehead. “Someone has to be, otherwise I’d be a paraplegic in the span of a month. Are you staying here tonight or heading home?”

  The grin faded at the edges. “You know, it’d be a lot easier if I didn’t have to keep making the decision.”

  I took a deep breath, raking fallen strands of hair out of my eyes. “Can we not have that discussion tonight?”

  A frown bunched between his eyebrows, but he swallowed the argument and crawled off the bed, grabbing his t-shirt from where it dangled on the headboard. “I’d better head to my place. We have an early rehearsal and I have more talent agents to find and disappoint.”

  I watched him pull the shirt on with a certain amount of regret. I had learned enough in my six months of marriage to be able to tell when he was unhappy, and he was because he wouldn’t maintain eye contact. Michael’s eyes always gave him away. In some ways, they were his best feature and thus they were his deadliest.

  “Would it help if I showed up in a cheerleading costume for your next performance?”

  He chuckled. “I thought we tried that one already. Or was it the Naughty Nurse?”

  He ducked when I threw my sock at his head, swooping in for a goodnight kiss. I cradled his face between my hands for a long moment before letting go. My bed was always colder—literally and figuratively—when he didn’t spend the night.

  “Buenas noches, amor,” I murmured.

  He kissed my forehead. “Igualmente.”

  Warm fingers mapped my spine, tracing the long curve of naked skin down to the small of my back, slowly, soothingly, purposefully. The sheets beneath me were clean and fresh like a summer morning—nothing a laundry detergent could pull off, either. This scent was as if someone had bottled the air at sunrise and sprayed it over cotton. I never felt more at peace, more relaxed. I’d found a small corner of heaven to lie upon.

  The hands at my back had long fingers that hinted at strength and masculinity as they slid upward towards my scars. The rough fingertips followed the jagged lines zigzagging over my spinal column where my aunt’s switches and belts and extension cords had cut the skin too badly to heal. The scars had turned to brown worms and melted into the rest of me. A long time ago, I had been upset over them, afraid to wear certain shirts and dresses, but over time they became as much a part of me as my black hair or morena skin or knobby knees.

  I sighed as his thumbs pressed against the blade of my shoulders, massaging in a circle, smoothing away the tension. Seconds later, soft lips touched the spot and silky hair brushed along my spine. My eyes opened and focused on his hand, palm flat, lying to my left. The skin was as pale as alabaster instead of the natural tan I was used to. Wait. Something was wrong.

  My pulse sped up as I gathered the white sheets beneath me to cover my bare breasts and rolled over only to find the archdemon Belial on his knees above me.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but he clapped one of his large hands over it, drowning my shout of alarm.

  “Don’t. This may be a dream, but your screams are still quite irritating, my pet.”

  I tore his hand away from my lips, glaring at him to hide my fear. He still looked the same—a narrow nose, perfect slender cheekbones, and wickedly sensual lips. He looked vaguely European to me, but he didn’t have an accent. His voice was deep, cold, and empty most of the time unless he was mocking me. He appeared somewhere in his late twenties to early-thirties, but I knew he was damn near as old as time itself. He wore an unbuttoned navy dress shirt that flapped loosely around his chest, granting me an eyeful of his perfectly carved abs.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak with you.”

  “What? You don’t own a phone, jackass?”

  He cocked his head to the left, one dark eyebrow rising. “Would you have listened if I called you? No. You’d hang up and we both know it. I was forced to find an alternate method of communication.”

  “Yes, and the bed was entirely necessary as part of the communication,” I growled with the utmost sarcasm. He smirked.

  “I would be remissed if I didn’t try to make a pass at you. In the real world, I am no longer able to…” He paused, licking his bottom lip. “—taste you, but in the dream world, I am free to do as I please.”

  I glared. “Do you have a point?”

  “Ah, yes, that.” The humor and flirtatiousness abated, leaving his nearly white eyes to focus on me with a serious look in them. It never failed to creep me out that his pupils weren’t round but slits like a snake’s. It was the mark of all archdemons, a sign of royalty.

  “You are no doubt aware of the murdered Seers, yes?”

  “Of course. Don’t tell me you’re gonna confess to them?”

  He snorted again, seeming offended. “Nonsense. I would have left a signature if it were my doing, but that is why I have chosen to contact you. I wish to report that these killings are not being committed by one of the Fallen.”

  “Why the hell should I believe that, Belial? Lying is like air to you.”

  “Because you know as well as I do that our side would not kill Seers indiscriminately. They are of as much use to us as they are to you and we are at a disadvantage when there is only one of them hanging around. One who just happens to be married to an archangel,” he added with another insufferable smirk.

  I ignored the comment. “So let’s pretend you’re telling the truth. If it’s not a demon, then who is it?”

  “I would advise you to reexamine your so-called saviors.”

  “The angels?”

  He nodded. I shook my head. “You think we haven’t considered that? Of course we have. But there’s also the fact that not a single angel has ever gone rogue since the Fall. Why would one start now?”

  Belial shrugged. “Perhaps he knows something we do not? The roster in Heaven is infinite. It is possible one of these angels slipped through the cracks. Ask Michael if there have been any unusual absences in Heaven, perhaps someone who left for Earth without a specific order.”

  “Why are you so eager to find this killer?”

  “As I said before, my pet. Seers are just as valuable to my side as they are to yours. It is necessary to find him and stop him if we ever want to get anywhere.”

  I shifted underneath him, becoming even more nervous now that our little chat was coming to an end. “Great. Thanks for the tip. Now get out of my damn head.”

  “So soon?” the demon purred, leaning down enough to make my heart rate spike again.

  “Is there nothing about this situation that interests you, Seer?”

  “Nothing at all,” I said through gritted teeth.

  A rather smug grin crossed his lips. “Mentirosa.”

  I tried to punch him but faster than I could see, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them to the mattress. Squirming, I tried to knee him in the groin. He crawled upward and straddled my waist, rendering my legs useless under his weight. A
n arrogant laugh trickled out of his throat as he watched me struggle in vain.

  “I adore that you still resist me even in a place where no one can see us. A less stubborn woman would at least be honest with herself.”

  “Honest about what?” I spat. “How much I despise you? How much you disgust me?”

  “And how much I turn you on?” he offered. Despite my anger, a creeping heat found its way on my cheeks and I hated it.

  “You don’t-”

  “I’m inside your head, Jordan. I can feel everything.” He lowered his face to my neck, not touching me but just barely letting his hot breath flow over my skin and his jet-black hair glide across my collarbone.

  “I can feel it like the blood rushing through your veins. Your angel may be handsome and valiant, but he does not excite you the way that I do. You crave danger like a creature of the night. Like a demon. Like me. Sooner or later, you will accept that about yourself.”

  “You’ve been out of my life for a year and a half. I don’t miss anything. Can you feel that?” I shot back.

  “No, I cannot. Perhaps if I try a little harder…” He pursed his lips and blew at the sheets just barely clinging to my chest. They slipped downward a couple of inches, revealing the scar over my heart, and Belial’s hot tongue laved the length of it, making me gasp. I squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed and angry as my body started to tremble with a horrible combination of fear and excitement.

  A buzzing sound woke me. I jolted upward in bed, my hands flying to my chest as I felt the ghost of Belial’s touch fading away with the nightmare. Light touched the edges of the bedroom through the blinds of my window. I glanced about to detect the odd noise only to discover my phone had received a text message. I sighed, swiping sweaty tendrils of hair off my forehead, and grabbed my cell phone.

  I’ll be over for lunch around 1:00. Te amo.

  -Michael

  “Saved by the bell,” I muttered, dropping the phone in my lap. A shudder went down my spine at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t woken me up. With Michael beside me, my dreams were protected because he emitted a subconscious protective aura. Without him, I was vulnerable. Open. Prey.

  A knot began to twist in my stomach, sagging there like a boulder. I knew that ache. Michael and Gabriel had taken turns rehabilitating me from my alcohol dependence, but I still got cravings during high stress situations. This sure as hell was one of them.

  So I did what any person would do.

  I cooked.

  Chapter 3

  Michael

  “THE EVIDENCE IS stacking up.”

  “I know,” my brother sighed, his voice sounding absurdly tired through the cell phone. The bustling citizens of Albany on either side of me made it somewhat difficult to hear, but I’d sacrifice my hearing ability as long as it didn’t require me to ride public transportation. Technology continued to evolve leaps and bounds every few years and yet we still had to clamor onto mechanical death traps that dragged through the streets like anchors at the bottom of the ocean.

  “Any luck finding anomalies?”

  “None so far. I am afraid the system was not designed for such a broad search.”

  I snorted as I stopped at a crosswalk, checking the streets. Cars flew past at ridiculous speeds. Gusts of wind tore at my face, my shirt, my jeans. Maybe I should have taken the bus after all. “Is it just me or is that completely unacceptable?”

  At last, a touch of humor crept into Gabriel’s tone. “It’s not like you can just Google every angel that has ever existed. Being human has made you lazy, Michael.”

  “We should invent that after this mess is over. Heaven Google. We can call it Hoogle.”

  He chuckled. “Indeed. But I do have some good news—we are coming up on the last third of the names.”

  “Great.” I paused. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?”

  Gabriel sighed. “Whole-heartedly. Betrayal of the Father is a death sentence on Earth and banishment from Heaven in the spiritual world. I sincerely hope the murderer has a good reason for this.”

  The humor bled out of me all at once. “There is no good reason to kill the innocent. You and I both know that.”

  “I agree, but I also have lived here longer than you have. Sometimes there are reasons for these things, even if they aren’t apparent at first. He must think he’s helping us out, somehow, in his twisted mind. It is not like the angels to be without sanity.”

  He paused, adding, “Well, except for that one who married a human. What was his name again?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m gonna tell Jordan you said that.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You love me too much.”

  I stifled a groan. “Call me back when you have something useful to say.”

  “Will do. Goodbye.” I hung up and opened the door to the candy shop, darting inside to save myself from the humid streets. Air conditioning and the hanging scent of caramel greeted me. I took a deep breath, savoring the aroma. My stomach growled in response. The last thing I ate was spinach dip at Stan’s place. Sweets were a welcome reprieve.

  To my delight, Doris was the cashier today—a plump woman in her late fifties with a pageboy haircut and irreversible crush on me. Shameless as it was, I used it to my advantage, if only because this place made the best caramel apples in the Northeast.

  “Doris, my love,” I purred when it was my turn to step up to the counter.

  She grinned, revealing dimples in her doughy cheeks. “Ah, there’s my handsome man. Still married?”

  I lifted my left hand to show the silver wedding ring. “Sadly, yes. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Nonsense. I know I’ll win you over one day,” she said, reaching inside the glass display for the two caramel apples she knew I was going to order. I was a creature of habit, after all.

  “I believe it. How are the kids?”

  “Ha!” she said, placing the apples on the scale. “Bobby’s got himself a new main squeeze. This one drives a Harley and smokes like a film noir detective. I suspect she’ll last about a month. Maggie’s wrapped up studying for her LSATs. We’re praying she passes this time.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to find her a tutor if you need it. I know people,” I offered, withdrawing my wallet to find my Visa card.

  “I’m convinced there’s no one you don’t know. You sure do get around,” she replied with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. A couple clicks and the price dropped another dollar as she applied her associate discount for me.

  I winked. She chuckled before swiping my card and handing me the treats. “Stay gorgeous, gorgeous.”

  “You too, Michael, dear.” I ventured back out into the heat, digging one caramel apple out of the little plastic bag she gave me and tossing the wrapper into a nearby trash can. The fruit made a satisfying crunch when I bit down, spilling tart juice and sticky caramel across my tongue. Ah. The simple marvels of humanity. You couldn’t get stuff like this in Heaven.

  I probably should have missed my home above more, but close to two years on Earth had changed my perspective more than I could have imagined. Centuries of observing mankind from on high had made me a hard man and an unflinching soldier. Back then, they seemed like chess pieces—pawns mostly, but a few knights and rooks, here and there. It wasn’t until my mission to retrieve the Spear of Longinus from an auction in Albany in 2008 that I began to realize my perception was skewed. Enter Jordan Amador, my greatest challenge, and eventually, my wife. My queen on the chessboard of life, so to speak.

  It was probably fitting that I fell in love with my complete opposite. Jordan used to be asocial, defensive, and cynical. It took me months to peel back even the first layer to her personality. She had built up walls around her to keep everyone out because she was afraid of getting hurt, thanks to her rough childhood. She had every excuse to be a terrible person, but somehow, she became someone who was brave, self-sacrificing, and hopeful.

  Still, as much as I loved her, we had our share of pro
blems—particularly the apartment situation and the fact that she still hadn’t planned the wedding ceremony. Jordan was a low maintenance girl and so we had a small courthouse marriage with the agreement to eventually hold a wedding for our friends and family, who had been pestering me non-stop about it lately. That was six months ago and every time anyone brought it up, she changed the subject or said she’d get to it eventually. Same with the fact that we still had separate places. Not an easy thing to juggle in Albany, New York between a waitress and a guitar salesman-slash-musician. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t concern me. I didn’t need a wedding, but the fact that she still kept part of herself separate from me didn’t inspire much confidence.

  The blast of a car horn shook me out of my thoughts. I’d walked an entire block without realizing it. Half of the caramel apple was gone too. Damn. Needed to pay attention unless I wanted to end up street pizza.

  Then again, my personal life was small potatoes compared to the still unsolved murdered Seers mystery. I hated the thought of it being an archangel gone rogue, but it was becoming more likely with every day that passed. Angels were not like police officers or guardians, as some humans seemed to believe. We were more like free agents with the same mission: to protect humanity and vanquish evil. Some chose to follow the orders that I issued as needed, but for the most part, they came and went as they pleased. We’d never had a need to keep track of each other because everyone did what they were supposed to and had since the beginning of time with the exception of the fallen angels. Either way, things were going to be different from now on. Very different.

  Just as I jogged through the crosswalk to the other side of the street, I felt a sharp tugging in my gut that raised the hairs on my arms and along my nape. Immediately, I reached inside and spread my metaphysical senses to detect what had set the alarm bells off in my soul. There, leaning against the building across from the street lamp, was someone I knew from the olden days. He was just over six feet tall with pale skin, greasy blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and long, bony fingers. He lit a cigarette and then cut his dark green eyes up at me as soon as I spotted him.