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

by Mina Carter

  He’d taken me twenty-three stories up to the top of the W Hotel, where Billy’s family was planning to stay. I had heard both sides of his phone conversations earlier.

  “You can see the Crescent City Connection from here,” I breathed, eyes wide as I took in the view of the bridge that connected the east and west banks, still holding on for dear life, though of course I couldn’t really be harmed by falling. It would just bring back bad memories of my last living moments. Most spirits had similar phobias about the circumstances surrounding their demise.

  “And the river,” I realized smiling. “It’s beautiful.” I paused following its meandering path for as far as I could. “Ok, I’ve seen the view. Now take me down,” I demanded.

  “Answer my question first.” He wiggled his dark diabolical brows at me. He was having way too much fun interrogating me. “You’ve been awakening before sunset every day this past week.”

  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You’ve been gone. How could you know that?” I huffed. “Who have you had watching me?”

  “Tut. Tut. I’m doing the asking, not you.” His sharp hawkish gaze softened. “Someone capable and strong. You know I would never leave you without making sure you were well protected.”

  Every last bit of my pique at him melted away. I had wondered why Leon hadn’t taken advantage of my formidable friend’s absence to psychologically torment me. Apollyon the Destroyer continued to be obsessed with me. Instead of being satisfied with having my immortality, he now hated me with a very public vengefulness that prevented me from gaining any other allies in his domain besides Morpheus. The scar I’d given him with that eternal blade apparently wasn’t something he was ever likely to forget.

  Leon was a source of constant worry but at least I wasn’t his slave. He could make my existence in the In Between miserable, but as far as I knew he couldn’t really hurt me the way he had before, not in this form.

  “What have you been doing in that apartment, and more importantly, why are you trying so hard to keep it a secret?”

  Things I shouldn’t.

  “I’m sure your spy already told you. No need to worry. You don’t need to give me a big speech about proper shade and human interaction. I crossed some lines I shouldn’t have but it’s over. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” His expression hardened until there was no longer a trace of softness in his features. “This is not some child’s board game you’re playing, Thyme. Violators of the Code don’t get sent back to the beginning to start over again. You know as well as I do that no one is exempt from the rules. No matter who you are, you will answer for your crime, and if the violation is judged to be severe enough you are eradicated. Erased from existence.” His eyes flickered with somberness he didn’t usually let anyone but me see. I knew he was remembering the hell hound enforcers with their nails and teeth dipped in molten obsidian hunting down his mother and killing her before his young eyes while he remained nearby, helpless and hidden.

  “I’m sorry, Morpheus. I’ll be more careful in the future.” I just wouldn’t go back to the apartment. I didn’t trust myself around Billy. Sure I was safe from Leon or any other immortal’s interference because a shade’s haunt is hallowed, uncrossable ground during nighttime hours. But until Billy left, I’d just have to find somewhere else to hide out.

  He’d only be there through Mardi Gras. Then things could return to normal. But normal didn’t hold any appeal anymore and just the mere idea of never seeing him again made me feel like doing something desperate.

  “Thyme.” Morpheus suddenly hissed. “Didn’t you tell me that Marie removed your ribbon of immortality?”

  I nodded. Why was he bringing that up now?

  He unfurled his wings and pulled me into his body wrapping his arms first and then his enormous wings around my form, completely hiding me from view. “Then explain to me why your eyes are glowing with power!”

  Chapter 22

  Forbid us something, and that thing we desire. - Geoffrey Chaucer

  Billy

  I couldn’t sleep after Thyme left me. I didn’t even try. I got out of bed, pulled my jeans back on and checked the apartment, hoping I might find her in another room. I even checked the courtyard though that wasn’t someplace I’d ever seen her go. But even before that turned up empty, I knew that she was well and truly gone.

  My mind said it was for the best but my heart had a different opinion.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and flopped on the couch, flipping through the channels on the flat screen, but nothing held my attention for long. I kept thinking about the way it had felt when she’d touched me with her phantom fingers.

  I turned off the television, tossed the remote on the coffee table and went back to the bedroom, perusing the bookshelves for something to read.

  I selected Chaucer because the spine was worn and knowing that in life she had thumbed through those very pages. I even brought the book to my nose to see if her lemon scent lingered.

  I climbed back on the bed disappointed, punching the pillow under the pretense of making it more comfortable for my head but really I was using it as an outlet for my irritation.

  I cracked open the tome, words underlined in fuchsia immediately captured my attention. ‘Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.’

  You’ve got to be kidding me?!?

  I slammed the book shut, set it on the nightstand and turned off the light…on my own, without my assistant this time.

  I laid on one side and then the other trying in vain to shut down my rambling mind.

  When the morning arrived I was still awake and my eyes were grainy and dry. I tossed the covers to the side and stumbled into the kitchen. I doubled the normal amount of coffee grounds. I needed it strong.

  How had this happened?

  How could one semi-transparent woman take up so much volume in my life? The apartment…my world felt positively desolate without her in it.

  I made a mess removing the used coffee filter spilling its contents on the counter and then leaving them there on purpose. I wadded up paper towels too, dropping them on the floor around the trash can. I hoped that wherever she was when she wasn’t here she would see and that her obsessive tendencies would draw her out if only to clean up after me.

  It didn’t work. At least as far as I could tell. Maybe once the sun set she might reappear, but trashing the apartment only took up so much time.

  When I was done with that, I fired up the laptop. Googled my ghost girl. Thyme Avens Bellerose. Twenty years old. Ethnicity: African American. Birthdate: August, 30, 1974. Reported missing on August 29, 2005. A day before her twenty-first birthday. Declared dead a month later on September 30, 2005.

  I clicked on the missing person picture and froze.

  She was gorgeous. I knew that, but it was different to see her in life looking so knockout sexy with her shapely legs in frayed cut off shorts and a white blouse that flattered her coffee and cream skin.

  But sadly for me it wasn’t a solo shot.

  She was with a guy who had to be Shane. A short glance to the side bar text confirmed it. But I didn’t need the words to tell me what her eyes already conveyed. She adored him. One hand on his chest, her head tipped back, her lips smiling. He’d been the center of her world. Anyone looking at that picture could see that.

  I clicked the browser closed and stomped around the apartment. My emotions were so raw I couldn’t even play my guitar. Having nothing better to do I stewed about that picture until rehearsal time.

  Luckily Jamal, Nico and Maxwell arrived thirty minutes earlier than scheduled putting an end to my solo pity party. Jamal had the pizza boxes. Maxwell had two six packs of beer.

  “Lose your housekeeper?” Jamal asked after he came inside and looked around. “No offense, but the place is a wreck.”

  I was afraid I’d lost something a helluva a lot more important than just someone to pick up after me. “Paper plates are in the drawer on
the left side of the sink,” I explained while they unloaded their bounty on the bar. The front door bell interrupted before I could snag a beer for myself. I headed to answer it.

  I found Tony on the upstairs landing with his arm around his wife and another woman standing beside her. “Hey, podna,” he greeted cocking his head to the side as he studied me.

  Yeah, I was a mess, but I figured I’d make a fashion statement by having my appearance match my mood. I ran a hand through my hair and hastily tucked my faded navy and plaid button down into my jeans, but knew it was too little and too late to salvage anything for the ladies. Just out of bed, same clothes as yesterday with no shower hair was the look I was going to have to stick with.

  “Billy, this is Rachel,” Tony introduced. “The lady I’ve been telling you about.”

  Shit. He’d brought her with him. Funny, I didn’t remember signing onto that. “Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand and the willowy blonde took it smiling prettily. “Come on in,” I gestured with more enthusiasm than I felt. “The guys are already here.”

  Mouths full, Jamal, Nico and Maxwell lifted their Abitas to acknowledge the newcomers. I moved into the kitchen and started to fill up a plate of my own. Arms folded looking pissed Tony raised a condemning brow.

  Inwardly sighing, I forced my feet back in the blonde’s direction and offered her the plate I held. “I apologize for my bad manners. I haven’t had company in a while. I’ve been living too many months out on the road in a tour bus. Can I get you a beer to go with the pizza?”

  “Yes, please.” Her voice was feminine and pleasing but it wasn’t the one I longed to hear.

  “Coming right up. Have a seat.” I gestured to the glass topped dining table. “I’ll be right back.”

  When I returned with the brew, I slid into the seat opposite Rachel, but only to appease my podna. Tony and Killian helped steer the conversation toward common interests.

  “So you really like the Cowboys, huh?” I asked after polishing off my second beer.

  “Yeah. Even though we live here, my dad’s originally from Texas. And I’m a daddy’s girl so that’s the way I roll.”

  “Must make it hard, living in Saint’s territory?” I noticed she was actually pretty cute when she smiled.

  “It’s not too bad.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and caught me staring at her lips. She lowered her lashes. “What do you think about the Cowboys’ chances?”

  Oh, she was good, this girl. I’d been out of the action a while but I recognized an expert when I saw one. She’d baited the hook and it was a tempting lure I’d admit. But I was a catch and release type of guy. I wasn’t so sure I was ready to be a catch and keeper ever again.

  “Once you’re in the playoffs, anything can happen, I guess.”

  “Hey,” Jamal interrupted. “As fascinating as this non-Saints conversation is,” he tapped the back of my chair, “we really should go ahead and get started. It’s already eight thirty.”

  I hadn’t realized it was that late. “Sure. You bet.” Tony and Killian picked up plates and bottles clearing off the table. I turned back to Rachel deciding a little diversion might be just what I needed. “You up for a little bit of clubbing with me after we’re done with rehearsal?”

  She didn’t have a cute French accent and her eyes were just plain blue. But she was alive and breathing. I guess that would just have to do.

  Chapter 23

  But now his heart no more will melt, Because that heart is not the same. - Robert Browning

  Thyme

  Red ball cap on backward, turning heads when people recognized him, Billy walked right by me without even acknowledging me. Of course he couldn’t see me, but he usually sensed my presence even when I didn’t make myself visible. But I guess maybe that only worked inside the apartment, and anyway that was all over now.

  I’d been replaced by a pretty blonde with cornflower blue eyes. Not that I’d ever been in the running to be anything more than an imaginary invisible friend and confidant.

  Not much else you can do with a ghost girl.

  I needed to hold on tighter to my memories and the increasingly unlikely hope that one day I would find Shane.

  But why did watching Billy stroll into My Bar with his arm draped around the blonde make me feel as though Leon had stabbed me in the abdomen with a hot obsidian blade all over again?

  I stood in front of a window frame that held no glass, the shutters open and tied back the way most were on Bourbon Street. I stared at him until I imagined my eyes burned.

  I could go in. As a shade I had access to any building that I’d been in when I’d been alive as long as it wasn’t locked or warded. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be any closer to the hurt or the temptation.

  My Bar was a favorite with the locals and discerning tourists. The music was top notch and real hurricane candles instead of fake battery operated ones gave the interior a warm and inviting glow. The dance floor had tiles that sparkled when stepped on. And the sound was funky tonight, the band and patrons alike moving to the soulful rhythm.

  The lead singer was smoothly cool in a fedora with a tip bucket on a stool, a keyboardist directly behind him, the drummer tight to his left. A guy playing an electric guitar occupied a small raised stage in the shadows. And a sax player stood on top of the bar wailing away.

  Billy kept his arm casually draped around the blonde’s shoulder as she sipped on her umbrella drink. He knocked back his whiskey on the rocks and ordered another.

  Ice cold jealousy seared my chest as I continued to watch them. I wanted to rip Billy’s arm away. I wanted to pull the blonde’s hair out by its roots and shove that stupid umbrella up her nose. But most of all I just wanted to be her. To be alive and by Billy’s side.

  I couldn’t deny the way I felt. It had been ten years but it seemed longer than forever since my life with Shane. And I probably would continue existing forever without ever seeing him again. But that was something I tried not to think about because whenever I did try to recall his face lately, I kept seeing another one instead.

  Billy didn’t have movie star good looks but he was undeniably sexy. The carelessly styled hair. The heavy dusting of darker blond stubble on his masculine jaw. The bright beacon of his personality. That expressive face. He was irresistible to me whether I was indulging in a naughty fantasy of him in just jeans with a piece of straw dangling from his sculpted lips or the way he looked right now with his light blue eyes sparkling and his mouth quirked up slightly at the corners. As if he knew the punch line to a joke I desperately needed to be in on. But he was equally devastating when somber and reflective, making me long to be the one to smooth the dip in his brows, to take his mind off his troubles, to comfort him, to make myself necessary to his happiness.

  Billy offered the blonde his hand helping her slide out of her seat. She put her hand on his shoulder as he twirled her out to the lit up dance floor.

  The tight tangle in my chest expanded making me feel as if I couldn’t catch my ghost breath. I wanted to look away. I knew I should, but I couldn’t.

  I told myself I was watching so I could let this go…this dangerous thing between us. But deep down I knew I kept watching because I was hoping to see some sign that he was missing me the way I missed him.

  I didn’t find what I was looking for.

  He confidently spun her around, and she shuffled her two left feet awkwardly while he moved his body in perfect time to the rhythm. A well-dressed trio of barflies in the corner stopped sipping their drinks and flirting with the guys they had snagged so they could watch, too.

  Billy Blade was a guy who could dance and the way he did it with heavy lidded eyes and slow swaying hips made me think of more impossible things.

  Sex

  Having it.

  Lots of it.

  With him.

  I looked away, imagining my cheeks flaming and fanned them with my invisible hand. When I looked back they were no longer where they’d been, but I caught
a glimpse of Billy’s broad shoulders above the crowd, moving down the banquette in the opposite direction from me.

  They ducked into the Daiquiri Delight Shop, and I followed, holding a position in the corner of the pizza and drink joint that was decorated like an island bar and lit up as brightly as a convenience store with its florescent overheads. They sat and talked at the tall counter side by side. Her mouth moved constantly. He nodded his head periodically between bites of pizza and sips of beer.

  When they finished she seemed a little tipsy, losing her balance, leaning into him. He grabbed her elbow, steadied her and she peered up at him.

  I knew what was about to happen but I didn’t look away.

  She slid her hands up to his chest and twined her arms around his neck. He lowered his head and gave her what she was practically begging for.

  I couldn’t see his face after they kissed. But I could see hers. She looked positively in love or at least in deep infatuation.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  But I did.

  I longed to be the one to trace his lips. Kiss him when he smiled. I would be in my own personal heaven if I could feel his mouth on my own just one time. My chest started to burn so bright with envy that it truly hurt.

  Imagined hot tears blurred my vision. I didn’t notice that I had materialized. I couldn’t see the glow in my eyes, but piercing blue ones looking straight my way did.

  Chapter 24

  It is hard to contend against one's heart's desire. – Heraclitus

  Billy

  “Thyme!” I called setting Rachel aside, feeling strangely unsettled. Had my thoughts about her while I’d been kissing the blonde somehow magically conjured her here?

  It might have. I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t know the rules of the paranormal world she inhabited. Frankly, I’d been avoiding the subject pretty much altogether since I started summoning the dead with my harmonica. What I did know was that I hadn’t liked that hurt look on my ghost girl’s face. It made me feel as if I’d betrayed her somehow even though she’d been the one to leave.