Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “I’ve been there once or twice,” he mutters. His blue eyes look black. Obviously it hadn’t been a joyous occasion.

  I climb into the car first. “Move it. We gotta go.”

  Chapter 31

  THE RIDE’S A quiet one. The genuine letter from my father burns my hand. It’s too dark for me to read it, and besides, I want to read it with Vince, not Gavin.

  I peek sideways at Gavin. Why do I feel the need to push him away? Is it because of the cauldron or because I do feel a connection with him? It’s different than how I feel for Vince, but it’s there.

  There’s no reason why we can’t be friends. And, if I’m honest with myself, I’m glad I’m not alone.

  “Would you mind telling me about the Forest of Shadows?” I ask.

  He clenches his jaw, and his body tenses. “I’d rather not.”

  Bitterness fills my mouth with a nasty taste, and I struggle not to feel frustration. “That’s fine.”

  “It’s just…” The dim illumination from the dashboard allows me to see how white his knuckles are around the steering wheel.

  “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”

  “Like you share much.”

  “Just not with you,” I say lightly. The world zooms by as he drives. We’ve left the town behind, and the road stretches out endlessly into the darkness.

  He glances over. “The Forest of Shadows is close to the small town of Glass Lake. We moved there when I was ten.”

  “You don’t have to share your life story,” I protest.

  “No. You need to hear this. It might be important.” Gavin shivers.

  “It’s chilly in here.” I flip on the heat, setting it on low, even though I have the feeling his shivering has nothing to do with the temperature.

  “Over the years, my dad made comments that made me think he was crazy. Stuff about good and evil, life and death. Shortly after my tenth birthday, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk, and he took me to the forest.”

  Can anyone tell a quick story anymore? But I don’t press. We have a long ride. Might as well fill it with conversation.

  Gavin slows the car. “Hold on. There should be a dirt path somewhere around—ah, there it is.” He turns onto a gravel path. Rocks and stones ping against the car. “Anyhow, it was around noon when we got there, but you could hardly see anything. The forest earns its name.”

  Now I’m the one to shudder. Forest of Shadows sounds sinister.

  He clears his throat. “My dad led me to a small clearing. A man was tied up there. I ran to loosen the bindings, but my dad yelled at me to get away, said the man was dangerous. I couldn’t understand how a bound man could be a threat. His eyes. I’ll never forget his eyes. They were green, a deep, dark green. I never saw the face of fear until that day.”

  Goose bumps appear on my arms. The amount of fear I’m feeling, is it similar to the level that man felt?

  He leans his head against his hand, his elbow against the closed car window. His driving this fast with only one hand on the wheel makes me nervous, but I don’t say anything about it.

  “I’m sure you already guessed it, and, yes, the bound man was a witch. My dad killed him. Cut out his heart and burned it. Said that was the only way to prevent his magic from lingering here on earth after the witch died.”

  I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. Cutting out someone’s heart is unimaginably cruel.

  Gavin runs his fingers through his gelled hair, and some of the short ends stood straight up. “I didn’t talk to anyone for an entire week after that. Dad kept me out of school to tell me about our ancestry. I didn’t care about witches and right and wrong. All I kept seeing was that guy’s green eyes and my dad holding his still beating, bloody heart.”

  My hands cover my mouth. My eyes are open, but instead of seeing the dark road ahead of us, I see a cute, young Gavin, his dad covered in blood, and the lifeless emerald green eyes of the dead witch. I strangle a cry as Mr. Venator throws the pulsating heart into the fire. There’s a popping sound, booming, like a firecracker, and a huge plume of green smoke appears above the fire. Young Gavin opens his mouth as if to scream, but no sound comes out. The dead witch’s skin melts away until only his bones are left.

  I blink, and the vision wavers and disappears.

  “My dad later told me that the place has been used over the centuries to kill witches. Not all of them were killed properly, though. There’s a lot of untapped magic there.”

  What will happen when I—magic incarnate—come near untapped magic? Nothing good, especially with my limited control.

  I swallow hard. “Why would Stormtide bring Vince there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, we drive in silence. Tension radiates from Gavin, and it heightens my nervousness. I can’t concentrate on anything, not praying, not trying to figure out the actions of Stormtide.

  “How much farther do we have to do?” I finally ask.

  “Are we there yet?” He laughs.

  I slap his arm, but I’m glad one of us can relax a little. “Well?”

  “Another twenty minutes or so.”

  I’d feel better if it was only five minutes, or better still, one.

  “I can’t go any faster.”

  “I know.”

  The gravel path is full of twists and turns. My stomach churns as we fly over a hill.

  “Is this a road or a roller coaster?” I mutter.

  “Don’t you like amusement parks?”

  “Yes, actually, but not when…” Not when lives hang in the balance.

  Another silence descends, although this one is not quite as nerve-wracking as before.

  I grab my cell and call Mom. Only have ten minutes of talking time left before more have to be bought. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I whisper.

  No answer.

  Had she contacted the witches?

  Why can’t I try?

  For the next minute, I attempt to send a mental message to Sapphire Belladonna. Then I shift my focus to Vince and try to tell him not to worry, that I’m coming. Whether or not they hear me, it makes me feel better to do something.

  I open my eyes the moment Gavin slams on the brakes. My seat belt slashes against my throat and chest. “What’s wr—”

  A stranger stands in the middle of the dirt path, only a few feet in front of us. Although the car’s lights are shining in his eyes, the man doesn’t seem to care, his gaze fixated on me.

  “You ok?” Gavin ask.

  I nod and unbuckle my seat belt. After I put the envelope into my purse—why I held it the entire car ride I don’t know—I reach for the door handle. For some reason, Gavin stops me. I glower at him and lower my window. “Sir, are you all right?” I call.

  He steps forward. His eyes are dark, his hair dark too, even his clothing. If not for the bright lights of the car, he would be almost impossible to see.

  “Sir, is something wrong?” I try again.

  The man sways back and forth and falls down onto his stomach.

  I yank my arm free from Gavin’s grasp, open my door, and run to the man. “Sir?”

  He doesn’t move.

  I shake him. “Sir?”

  Gavin hangs back, in front of the car instead of sitting inside it at least. “I didn’t hit him.” His voice is haunted. He’s almost as shaken up as if he had hit him.

  The man is big, so it takes quite a bit of effort to roll him onto his back. With a trembling hand, I reach two fingers to his throat.

  Without warning, the man removes a small vial from his coat and throws it at my face.

  Instinctively, I cover my face with my arms. The glass cuts my skin, painful in its own right, but the vial’s contents hurt even worse. My skin makes a hissing sound, and I scream.

  “What’s wrong?” Gavin runs over.

  I’m quaking with rage. Every second we waste is more time Vince is in the hands of Stormtide in a location with untapped
magic. Maybe Stormtide is trying to, or already found, a way to restore his power.

  What if he needs or needed a sacrifice?

  “No!” I scream.

  My magic bubbles to the surface, and I lose control. Layer by layer, I can feel my skin heal itself, the process both agonizing and satisfying. It wouldn’t surprise me if my true form is visible where I healed myself.

  “Get back in the car, Gavin,” I say. My voice sounds lyrical but dangerous, nothing like my normal tone.

  He hesitates only a second then complies.

  The man stands and fumbles through his coat.

  A plan forms in my mind, and before I weigh whether it’s smart or not, I implement it, holding my fists together in front of me before ripping them apart at shoulder height.

  The man’s coat tears down the back.

  When I lower my arms, the ruined coat slides off his shoulders.

  I mime throwing something. The two pieces ball up and fly through the air, landing somewhere in the dark, hopefully far away.

  The man glowers, his face a mask of darkness, shadows, and danger. “You are an abomination.”

  The air around me crackles with the hum of magic. “What’s your name?”

  He closes his lips into a tight, thin line.

  Holding up my hand, I spread my fingers apart.

  “Thunderstruck.”

  A shaman. I should have known. “Why are you here?”

  The man says nothing.

  “Answer me!” The air around me crackles. If I wasn’t so angry, I might be frightened of what I’m capable of.

  “You need to die.”

  I scoff. “You stand no chance against me.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Where are your brothers?” I make a show of looking around. “You’re all alone. Let me guess. They don’t want me dead. Only you do.”

  He shuffles his feet, staring at the ground.

  “Ah, I thought so.” My power surges around me, and a wind billows my clothes.

  A natural wind or one I created?

  I step forward until we’re almost touching. At this moment, I don’t trust myself. The thought of killing someone is one I’ve never contemplated before, and yet I might commit that act right now. “You’re going to leave here and not come back. If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

  His eyes would have cut me into a million pieces if they could. With every beat of his heart, he wishes me dead. I feel the hate swirling within his body. “Kill me now,” he hisses.

  “Go.”

  Some of the hate alters into fright, and he races away.

  I close my eyes and breath in deeply. My magic, I’ve never been more in control. Paradoxically, I’ve never been so close to losing myself in it. Nearly drunk with power.

  Can’t leave immediately. I have to expel some of energy, or else I’ll explode. Stones litter the ground, and I shove magic into them. They glow brightly.

  Better not leave the coat behind. What if he has other vials in it? I make a come here motion, and the two balled-up pieces return to me. Carrying the coat and the stones, I rush to the car. “Let’s go.”

  Gavin’s eyes are hooded. “No. You have some explaining to do.”

  Chapter 32

  I GAPE AT him. “Drive! We have to save Vince.”

  Scowling, Gavin grabs the wheel but doesn’t start the ignition.

  Willing to do anything to get moving, I offer sweetly, “I’ll talk if you drive.”

  “Deal.” He smiles broadly, his dimples appearing. The car roars to life, and we speed off into the night.

  Where to start? I open and close my mouth. No words come.

  “You aren’t a witch?”

  “No.”

  He applies some pressure on the brake.

  “Fine! I’m not a witch, but I’m not exactly like the rest of you.”

  “What do you mean?” Gavin shoves his foot down on the gas, and we jump forward.

  “My birth mother sought out help from witches to be able to conceive me.”

  “So you were born because of magic. Interesting.”

  No point in correcting him. “Yes.”

  “That must be why Calder reacts to you like he does. You claim you aren’t a witch, but you could be one, obviously.”

  Turnabout is fair play. “You don’t want to be one, obviously.”

  He shoots me a quick glare. “We aren’t talking about me now. We’re talking about you. Uncontrolled magic can be dangerous, potentially fatally so. Even for the magic user.”

  Lovely.

  “Drive faster,” I urge.

  Gavin makes an exasperated noise but returns his attention to the road.

  I examine the torn coat. The outside pockets contain gloves. On the inside, there are many small compartments, most filled with vials of various shapes and sizes. Should I bother to bring some to the fight? Better not. I have no idea what they contain and what they can do.

  “What’s all that?” he asks.

  “From the shaman.”

  “Another shaman?” he mutters.

  “Don’t be afraid. We won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  Worry’s etched into his grimace. Worry for me.

  I shift away from him and stare out the window. We pass several trees, but gradually they appear closer together.

  A minute later, Gavin kills the engine. “We have to go by foot now.”

  I throw my door open and jump out. A ball of fire for light hovers above my left hand.

  Gavin walks around the back of the car to my side, a flashlight in his hand. “Let’s use this instead.”

  I send the fire away and fall into step beside him. “Don’t tell me magic scares you.”

  We pick our way through the closely grown trees, and I step over a huge tree root. Large shadows loom all around us. An animal howls. A wolf? Or a shaman transformed into a wolf?

  Being scared won’t help Vince.

  Gavin clicks off the light. “Hold my hand,” he whispers. “We’re almost there.”

  We fumble in the almost complete darkness until we find each other’s hand. Holding his is different from holding Vince’s. I always feel safe and happy with Vince. Now I’m petrified.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  I shake my head. What if I’m too late? If I fail? If Vince is dead?

  After a good ten minutes that feel more like an hour, we eventually make our way to the clearing I saw during the vision of Gavin’s memory. Farther ahead, thousands of small candles illuminate the area. The sudden brightness blinds me a few moments. A single monster of an oak tree looms before us, a large caldron beside it.

  “Stormtide,” I breathe, not bothering to raise her voice.

  The seven-foot man walks out from behind the tree. “I knew you would come.”

  Anger and rage fill me. I try to ignore the swirling emotions. Concentration will be crucial. The pull of alien magic, also rancorous in nature, tugs at my willpower. The witches improperly killed beg to have their vengeance, and the magic they unwillingly left behind equally beseeches to be used.

  “Where is he?” I demand. Gavin no longer stands beside me, for better or for worse.

  “That doesn’t matter right now.”

  “Where is he!”

  The flames leap into the air, hovering above their candles.

  “Ah, yes.” Stormtide tilts his head back, his eyes closed. “I can feel your power. It’s invigorating, isn’t it? Once one has tasted the true power of magic, nothing else matters.”

  He’s been consumed with desire to get his magic back for a long time. A desperate foe makes for one willing to risk everything.

  “There’s no need for you to hate me,” Stormtide adds garrulously.

  My hatred continues to grow, which makes my control that much weaker. “Then why take Vince?”

  “I’ve been watching you for weeks now. I had to find a way to lure you here.”

  “And Dr. Jenkins?”
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  Stormtide waves his hand nonchalantly, but his gaze flickers to the flames floating in the air.

  I make him nervous. If only I didn’t make me nervous too…

  “I needed a backup plan,” he says, “in case you can’t help me.”

  “Why would the witches help you?”

  He grins, looking the part of evil incarnate, his eyes blazing, half of his face covered in shadows. “It’s all about leverage.”

  Bait. First Vince, and now me, if I can’t figure out a way out of this mess. Where are the witches? Where’s Mom?

  Stormtide glances around the clearing.

  I can’t help smirking. “If you’re waiting for Thunderstruck, I don’t think he’ll be joining us.”

  “Thunderstruck?” Stormtide laughs. “I doubt he would. He’s been dead for twenty years.”

  I swallow. Had the man been Thunderstruck’s ghost? Or had he stolen his name? And I had been feeling so powerful and righteous over how I handled the whole Thunderstruck situation too.

  “The magic in this place… I know you can too.” Stormtide bends down and picks up some dirt. “The earth here is drenched in it. The fire’s ready. Metal…” He pulls out a serrated dagger from his belt and points it to the caldron. “ Water. Air, you can handle. As for blood…”

  My timid hold of control is slipping. If the alien magic combines with mine, there’s no way I’ll be able to control the result. “Use mine,” I say, my voice hollow.

  Stormtide laughs, the sound surprisingly friendly. “Don’t worry. I don’t need your precious boy’s.” He cuts his left hand with the dagger. Drops land in the cauldron. The dagger joins the mixture next.

  The ex-shaman’s obviously crazy, and magic in the hands of a crazy person is hardly a good idea, but I have no idea what to do, how to save Vince, how to get us all home safely.

  “If…” I have to stop to clear my throat. “If you want my help, I first have to see that Vince is all right.”

  “No, dearie. Leverage, remember?”

  “Then I won’t help you.” I close my eyes for a second. When I open them, all of the flames extinguish.

  Stormtide fumbles around. A match strikes and burns, and he drops it into the cauldron.