Wicked After Dark: 20 Steamy Paranormal Tales of Dragons, Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Mina Carter

  “Why all the questions about Ty Boo?” He cocked his head inquisitively.

  I felt a shimmer of movement in the space behind me, and I knew she was really close. Holding my breath I glanced at the window above Tony’s head and watched the curvy outline of her shape appear. “That’s her nickname, I presume.” I kept my eye on her and dropped my voice. “I’ve seen her, I think.”

  “You said something about seeing things last night.” Tony set down his beer and scooched forward, hands on his knees. “But I thought it was just the alcohol talking.” He studied my face. “But you’re dead serious, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I snorted at the bad pun. “One hundred percent.”

  “When did you see her?” He arched a brow. “When LaWanda was here?”

  “Yeah.” I glanced at the window, disappointed to see her fading away instead of filling in more.

  He followed the direction of my eyes. “Don’t tell me you see her right now?”

  “I did. For a moment, but now she’s gone now.”

  “Whoa. That’s kinda cool.”

  I barked a laugh. “If I told that to anyone outside of New Orleans they’d think I had either made it up or that I was certifiable.”

  “Oh, I believe you alright. I saw her once, too. Right after Chantelle brought a medium to the apartment to try to conjure up Thyme’s spirit.”

  “Really?” I asked. “So it worked?”

  “Nah. The medium was a huckster. Chantelle was really disappointed. She sold the business shortly afterward and put the apartment up for rent some time later. But before she moved out, she came up here, and I came with her. For one last goodbye. And just for a moment I’m certain I saw Thyme standing in the doorway to her bedroom looking just as sad as her Mamere.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone?”

  “No. I wasn’t sure it hadn’t been just wishful thinking. It was over so fast. Chantelle was already grieving. What good would it do? Letting go had already been so hard on her. It would just bring all that pain right back to the surface. Dead is dead, right? There’s no changing it.”

  Chapter 16

  Dead things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce. - John Milton

  Billy

  I wondered if and when Thyme would show herself again.

  I hoped that she would. I had that feeling again. I caught a faint scent of lemon, like the last time she’d been near. Maybe she was watching and waiting, too, from wherever she was when she wasn’t here. But how that worked, I sure didn’t know. Why she would even be interested was a whole other question.

  It wasn’t like I was doing anything worth watching, though I got the impression that she had liked the music when the guys had been here. My back had felt her chill behind me the entire time we played. Like when LaWanda had been here. The way my body reacted to that particular memory was certainly disturbing.

  I couldn’t explain exactly why I was so fascinated with her, appealing scent and pretty face aside. I just knew what I felt about my ghost girl; an undeniable, and all too real desire.

  I had to see her again.

  Lying in my bed, I gave up on reading the poetry book inscribed with her name after the second time I nodded off. I got up and prowled the apartment speculating about the woman who had lived out her life within these walls.

  Had she come to the same violent end as her fiancée?

  If so, why didn’t her appearance reflect that, the way the other ghosts I conjured did?

  And why had she come to me? I remembered the vision and Thyme’s desperate plea. What could a messed up guy like me possibly do to help a spirit? Were we connected in some way?

  Full of questions, my mind buzzed like a throng of fans waiting for the show to start. Midnight came and went without her return. I wanted answers but the later it got the more I had to temper my expectations.

  Finally, I decided to give it up, head to bed. Maybe I could pick Tony’s brain in the morning.

  In the bathroom I stripped dropping my clothes unceremoniously on the bathroom tile. I stepped into the shower. I had just begun lathering the shampoo into my hair when my skin prickled with awareness, the way I was beginning to recognize it always did whenever she was near.

  I opened my eyes cussing as the shampoo stung them. I reached for the towel I’d hung over the rod trying to keep my movements slow and purposeful. I didn’t want to give away that I was aware of her presence. That seemed to scare her off. The towel wasn’t where I put it, but she was there, grey form flickering, standing in a cloud of bathroom fog in front of the silver mirror. A loosely belted shirtdress revealed intriguing curves. The ends of her hair curled around her breasts. Her lips were slightly parted. I could see the gentle icy puffs of her breath from them as she regarded me.

  Her eyes widened when she realized I was looking straight at her. She dipped her chin and spun away.

  “Wait!” I jumped out of the shower, but instead of catching her, I caught my foot on the high rim of the claw foot tub. I threw out my arms to break my fall but I never hit the ground. Delicate ghost arms broke my fall, holding my missing towel outstretched in front of me. Shapely see through arms that shouldn’t have been substantial enough to stop my momentum somehow did, though her silhouette rocked back a bit.

  Something beyond the awareness I usually felt when she was around rolled through me. I stood there completely naked water dripping down my body while I stared deeply into her eyes.

  Recognition. Familiarity. Need.

  Feelings that made no sense at all.

  Maybe it was just projection on my part, but it seemed as if similar emotions flashed across her semi-transparent face before fright overshadowed them. Without speaking she suddenly winked out, the towel she had been holding dropped to the floor at my feet.

  I cursed again, my second one loud enough to echo off the bathroom walls.

  Several hours later, the highlighted pages of the Selected Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning blurring in front of me, I switched off the bedside lamp, settled under the covers and closed my eyes.

  It seemed like only seconds passed before the familiar nightmare recurred. I heard Nan screaming and William crying. I knew I had to get to them. But I couldn’t. I never fucking could.

  I shot bolt upright in bed, shouting their names, my heart hammering, my sheets soaked with sweat.

  Chapter 17

  Mine and her souls rushed together. - Robert Browning

  Billy

  Feeling like the ineffectual piece of shit that I always did after that nightmare, I had to force myself out of the bed the next morning. Light peeked in through the cracks in the blinds. I rooted around for some exercise clothes in my bag. Stepping into a pair of cutoffs and pulling on an old Cowboys t-shirt, I grabbed the key and headed out of the apartment.

  The Fleur de Lis gym was just a couple of blocks up from the apartment. My ever efficient personal assistant had arranged a temporary membership for me. Lorraine knew how restless I got if I didn’t work out every day. She had even booked me a couple of sessions with a trainer at the exclusive facility.

  After being subjected to a vigorous hour of high cardio, I went into the main weight room and lifted for another hour. I got the usual stares. People were always surprised by how much weight I could press. I only had to pause a couple of times to take cell pics and sign autographs for members of the gym who recognized me.

  I didn’t mind. I guess if I had been a big celebrity for longer I might have felt differently. But I still remembered the year before when I’d been at rock bottom personally and professionally, when no one had even known my name.

  The sun blasted me in the eyes when I emerged from the gym. I felt a lot better, but I still wanted to have a little run on that route to the riverside park Lorraine had mapped out for me. My cell rang before I could get started. I slid my shades on and my cell out of my pocket smiling when I saw the caller ID.

  “Morning podna. Don’t mean to crowd you,” Tony began, “but I’ve
got a couple of hours till my next pickup and wondered if you might enjoy a local’s view of the city?”

  “Sure.” Though it would be hotter to run later in the day, I was glad for the opportunity to get my thoughts out of the ghost girl groove.

  Tony took me first to the business district, followed by uptown, then to the city park with its old oak trees and Greek inspired gazebo, and finally by his house in the garden district to meet his wife, Killian. She was petite, curvy and just as friendly as Tony treating me like I was a long lost relative. She joked that theirs was the tiniest house among the mostly mid-nineteenth century, Italianate mansions.

  After that brief visit we ended our tour at St. Charles Tavern, a small bar well off the beaten tourist track. We sat across from each other at a small table talking and taking full advantage of the two-for-one well drinks special.

  “BB King, mostly.” Tony knocked back the last of his beer after I’d asked him about his musical influences. “What about you?”

  “Jackson Brown. Skynyrd. Cash.”

  “I can see that.” He nodded as if he understood. “I hear those influences in your phrasing.” He stared up at ESPN on the wall mounted television in the corner while chomping on a handful of nuts. “Brees has been good this year. Not as good as Romo, though.”

  “Yeah, he’s been solid. Helps having a great o-line. He’s a good guy, too. I met him once when I did the national anthem at the Pro Bowl in Hawaii. He’s from the Rio Grande Valley just like me.”

  We shot the shit about nothing important for another hour before he dropped me off in front of the apartment. I noticed an Audi parked at the curb that I’d also seen the day before. The custom license plate read ‘Hot Spot’. Sounded like some fast food joint. There was a lot of construction going on in the vacated shop below the apartment. I guessed whoever owned the expensive car probably was getting ready to open up another location. It would probably do well. Chantelle’s apartment was in a very popular section of the Quarter.

  I jogged down to the river. This late in the day I had to dodge the crowds and carriages along the way. I enjoyed the run along the banks of the Mississippi. It felt therapeutic and weirdly familiar.

  I sprinted back just as the sun was setting, dropped my key on the bar and went straight for the shower. I noticed something was off as soon as I entered the bathroom. I turned around in a complete circle. Where the hell were my dirty clothes and the towel I’d left on the floor?

  I certainly hadn’t picked them up. Despite my mother’s best efforts, no one was as messy as I was on tour. I hadn’t bothered to call the housekeeping service my PA had given me, either. I didn’t mind the disorder. Obviously. And I was enjoying my privacy. Getting my own food. Following my own schedule. None of the mega superstar entitlement stuff.

  A prickle of realization hit me, my brows rising. I suddenly knew who had.

  Thyme.

  I knew for sure when I found the clothes and towel neatly folded in the bottom of the hamper, the scent of lemon wafting up to my nose.

  Very interesting.

  My lips lifted into a slow smile as I checked out the rest of the apartment, noting how orderly everything was. This might not be too bad a deal I decided. Living with a resident ghost who was pretty and knew how to clean, too.

  Chapter 18

  And, last, she sat down by my side. - Robert Browning

  Billy

  Another day. Another hard workout at the gym followed by a run to the river. Afterward I went to the shower reluctantly. In the back of my mind I thought about waiting until it got dark. Maybe I could tempt her into the bathroom again.

  I liked having her eyes on me. Deep down I knew I’d like to have more. But when I was naked it was a little bit difficult to hide my body’s response to her. Sooner or later she was going to catch on. Besides right now I was too sweaty and uncomfortable to wait…this time.

  After I got dressed again, I pulled a ball cap down low to shadow my features before dashing up the street to grab more Abita and a couple of microwaveable burritos at the convenience store. I scarfed down my meal of dubious nutritional value while nursing a beer and watching a rerun of The Walking Dead.

  Suddenly, I drew in a lungful of lemony air. My heart rate kicked up but I leaned forward acting casual. I took another sip of my beer while I searched for her out of the corner of my eyes.

  Bingo.

  To the left, peeking out from behind the kitchen column. She was being more cautious but I could still see her. The question was how to proceed given how skittish she seemed.

  “Thyme,” I called softly staring straight ahead being very still. I kept it low key when I really felt on edge. If I’d had a lasso that could’ve held her I would’ve used it. “I can see you standing there.” Her eyes rounded. She had excellent hearing obviously. “Please don’t leave.” Her hand went to her mouth as if she were undecided. “Thanks for picking up my things. Tony told me a little bit about you.” Her eyes closed. When she reopened them, she looked sad. But why? “He reminds you of the life you no longer have doesn’t he?”

  She held my gaze for a beat then nodded. Outstanding I thought to myself. We could communicate. Now if only I could get her to stay and really talk to me.

  “I don’t have a lot of friends here in New Orleans.” I didn’t have many anywhere really. Arla sure. Now Tony and the guys, but that was it. I wasn’t very good company since the accident keeping most people at a comfortable arm’s length. “But I think I’d like you to be one of them.”

  Her expression revealed her surprise and also how nervous my suggestion made her. She took a large step back.

  I panicked jumping up and rushing to stop her. It didn’t make sense but I didn’t want to lose her again. Didn’t want to spend another night in the apartment alone without her. “I need you,” I blurted out knowing as I spoke the words that though they sounded pathetic, they were the damn truth.

  She stopped moving, eyes drifting across my face as if looking for proof that I was sincere.

  “I hate the night,” I explained. “Have trouble getting to sleep.” Reliving the nightmare that made me feel so weak and helpless, once I did finally drift off. I raked fingers through my hair dreading the moment that she might wink out. “Have a seat.” I gestured to the couch. “Stay and talk with me a while.”

  She shook her head.

  “Just for a bit? Just till I get drowsy?”

  She made a motion in front of her mouth like a key being locked and thrown away.

  “You can’t talk?”

  She cocked her head to the side before nodding. I got the idea that can’t wasn’t quite it. Maybe she shouldn’t talk to me might be closer to the truth.

  “Ok. That’s fine. But this is kind of nice. Good thing I’m a pretty verbal guy. My manager says I talk a lot. He says I’m fond of the sound of my own voice.”

  Her lips twitched. So cute. She was so damn cute. I felt like a goofy kid on my first date. And when she moved to take a seat on the edge of the couch right beside me, I felt as excited as I’d been when I was twelve and came downstairs Christmas morning to find a new shotgun under the tree.

  I shifted to look at her trying not to stare, noticing additional details I had not seen in our shorter encounters. How long her hair was. How wavy. The delicate shape of her face. Slightly rounded high cheekbones complemented her eyes. Full kissable lips…I swallowed. Well, they’d been kissable when she’d been alive at least. My gaze drifted past the peasant top and jeans her slight slender non-corporal body filled out nicely.

  When my gaze returned to her face she wore a bemused smile. I had the decency to look embarrassed for checking her out. “Sorry. You’re cute as hell. Besides, I’ve never seen a ghost up close before. I’m curious how it all works. With clothing and all, I mean.”

  Her lips pursed like she was thinking how to explain.

  “My bad.” I smacked my forehead. “I guess I should stick to yes and no answers.”

  She nodded, but th
en her gaze went to the television and she hopped a little on her perch and shook her finger at it. Then pointed to herself.

  Understanding dawned. The outfit she wore was the same as the one on the Old Navy commercial. “You can duplicate whatever clothing you see?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  I laughed. She stared at me, her body leaning slightly toward me. “I know a lot of women who wish they could do that trick. My sister especially. She loves clothes and shopping. Part of the reason her marriage didn’t work out.”

  She shook her head, her expression making it seem as if she didn’t believe me.

  “You’re right. There were other reasons. My sister’s a bit of a hard ass. Intolerant of faults in others. That kind of thing.”

  She closed her eyes briefly as if in sympathy. Could she somehow perceive that my ex brother in law wasn’t the only one my sister couldn’t forgive? When she reopened her eyes she started to reach toward me, but then stopped, pulling her arm back in and wrapping both around herself. Her face was very expressive. I could tell she very much wanted to comfort me, but was frustrated by her lack of options to do so.

  “Hey, it’s ok. She’s not all that bad. She’s a great mom like our own. Like your Mamere probably was.”

  She stood abruptly looking agitated. I could practically feel the unsettled emotions rolling off of her.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I bet you miss her even more than anyone else. I’m such an idiot.” I moved in front of her. Turbulence filled her eyes as she peered up at me. “Have you seen her since…”

  She vigorously shook her head. And disappeared.

  Shit. Good job, Blade. No doubt she wanted her Mamere to go on with life. In the way she couldn’t anymore. I totally understood that. But I knew it was a damn hard thing to do.