Paranormal After Dark: 20 Paranormal Tales of Demons, Shifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Fae, Witches, Magics, Ghosts and More

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Harmony and Scribe watched him from one side of the room, their eyes aglow with either fear, or nerves, he wasn’t sure. Why were they so fucking nervous? It wasn’t as though he was about to shift in front of them, was it?

  Jinx stood to his left. The vamp's kohl-lined eyes watched him intently. Jinx wasn’t like the half-bred shit that walked the Earth today. He was primitive, but deadly nevertheless. The overhead light bounced off the metal on his face. Piercings, a black Mohawk, and a lanky body covered in leather, completed the New Age look. Punk-rocker, or whatever it was nowadays—Grimm could never keep up, and he didn’t want to.

  Smoky, the old djinn, stood next to Jinx. His curly black hair, blue eyes and Middle Eastern looks belied his true age. He didn’t belong here with them. He belonged amongst the rich and beautiful. His piercing eyes flickered red with the flame of his immortal soul. Grimm had always felt uncomfortable in his gaze. Maybe it was because they were more alike than either wanted to admit. Smoky’s looks may have remained youthful, but his stature showed his age, bowed down by the passing world around him. Like Grimm, all he wanted was to be with his family once again.

  He turned away from the djinn and faced Kali, now feeling like a dead man walking as he stared at the piece of paper and read the email. She ignored him and pulled at her black mp3 player and headphones instead. “Well? Did you hear me?”

  Her voice was quiet and controlled. “Yes, I hear perfectly.”

  “And….”

  “And what? You made a statement about my sister. Had I known you required a reply I would have answered immediately.”

  And that was the problem with this woman. All soft and complying, like she had all the time in the world to do whatever he asked. It fucking unnerved him. He rephrased the question. Grimm couldn’t help the fact his tone was still biting, being his time of the month and all... God, he even felt bloated. “Have you spoken to her?”

  “You know I haven't.”

  Easy now, Grimm. “Well, she seems to be doing the email dating thing with the detective again, and this time she gave him our fucking number.”

  Chapter 8

  Eve

  EVE HUDDLED AGAINST the wall of her apartment, her body shaking uncontrollably while she tried to piece together what had actually happened. Police surrounded her in the dark, their white beams burning her eyes as the light from their torches swept over her and then around the room.

  “Are you okay, Miss?”

  She was frozen, unable to speak. What would she tell them? No, I’m not okay, not at all. Instead, she nodded and lowered her head on her knees, wondering if she could even find the words without sounding delusional? Kill her and let's get out of here, the woman, Mercy, had said. Kill her, kill her, kill her…. Those words were all she thought about. That and the way Mercy had disappeared right in front of her eyes.

  “Miss... are you hurt?” An officer knelt in front of her. “Can you hear me, Miss... Miss?”

  Eve cried out and lifted her hands to ward off blows that never came. In her mind, she was still fighting, still battling to survive.

  “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, the wail increasing until the noise fell silent outside the building. Eve lifted her head and stared at the officer while he spoke to her. He sounded distorted and distant. “I’m going to touch you, okay? We’re going to get you checked out at the hospital.” He gripped her by the arm. His comforting smile grew wide as she stood and then froze. “Jesus, you’re pregnant.”

  The activity around her and went into overdrive. People were everywhere. Torches, voices filled the air. She was carried more than she walked past the other officers. They stared at her. Their whispers reached her. “So bloody lucky. She's the only one who's survived. It’s got to be the Abortionist.”

  Their words meant nothing to her. Not much did in that moment. Her fight might have been over, but now she was left to pick up the pieces of her fragile mind. Easier said than done.

  The hall lights illuminated the haunted stares of the officers as they ushered her down the stairs and onto the street. It should be she who comforted them. They’d risked their life to protect her. It was their friends who lay dead in her apartment. As hard as she tried to stop them, the visions still lived. Torn and bloody, those brave men littered her floor and her mind. Eve feared they would for a very long time.

  An officer helped her to the back of an ambulance, where a paramedic stuffed packets of gauze and vials into a bag. He glanced up at her, and then packed faster. His frantic voice matched his speed. “I’m on my way.”

  “Don’t bother. This is the only survivor.”

  The paramedic’s eyes widened. His hands stilled on the straps of the backpack. Eve could almost see the question by the expression on his face. How on earth did she survive? She had no answer to give. “Are you sure?”

  Eve turned at the sound of footsteps heading toward them. Another paramedic appeared from the door of her building. His gaze swept across her body and ended meeting her gaze as he stripped off bloody surgical gloves. “Eve?”

  She nodded and moved out of the way as he stopped before her. “I know you’ve had a really bad night and you’re probably in shock right now. But we need to get you over to the hospital so the doctors can check you and your baby, okay?”

  He had kind eyes and his voice was gentle. Eve found herself nodding. The officer let her arm go. “I’ll have an officer meet you at the hospital when you’re finished. I know it will be hard, but we need to get as much information as possible. We need to find this killer before he attacks again.”

  I’m coming back for you. Her attacker’s words echoed. Eve shivered.

  “Okay, that’s enough for now.” The paramedic pushed the officer out of the way and took her by the arm. “Let’s get you up on the bed and over to the hospital, eh?”

  Eve stared at the nametag on his green uniform: Chris. He wrapped a white blanket around her shoulders and helped her into the ambulance. He climbed in and pulled the doors shut, locking them in place. The ambulance lurched forward, the white fluorescent lights above brought back the image of the haunting white dress of her attacker. Eve shivered, knowing she’d never look at the color the same again. He unhooked a blood pressure cuff and wound it around her arm. The machine whirred and pressure built. Eve checked her blood pressure once a week at the pharmacy. It was always well in the healthy range, but maybe not today. “You're not back there anymore, you know. You survived and you're going to be okay.”

  The ambulance braked and Eve rolled sideways. Chris caught her, stopping her stomach from hitting the side of the stretcher. When the ride smoothed out he grabbed a folder and pulled a pen from his top pocket. “I’ll need to get some details from you. Can you tell me your name?”

  Eve gave him what few answers she could, until she couldn't force herself to speak anymore. She just wanted to be left alone, but her thoughts were just as cruel. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the life within her. After a while, he stopped asking questions and pulled the cuff from her arm. The ambulance came to a stop.

  She was lost in a lounge room full of blood and horror until the back door was yanked open and her stretcher was pulled forward. She opened her eyes with a start, gripping the bed frame tighter.

  “Easy, eh? Can't you see the poor girl's in shock?”

  “Sorry,” his partner muttered. The bed slid out, slower this time, and Eve was wheeled into the hospital through thick plastic doors. A doctor and a group of nurses waited. She tried to turn away from them. Their horrified gazes only increased her unease.

  “Jesus.” The doctor muttered, “What are we looking at here?”

  “She isn’t. The blood’s not hers.” The paramedic confirmed what she already knew, that she was covered in someone else’s blood.

  The doctor glanced up at the paramedics. “Anyone else alive?” The silence which followed shattered her already-broken heart. “Jesus….”

 
“Let's get you hooked up. Okay, Eve? We want to check the baby's all right,” said a nurse, smiling at her. Eve blinked and followed the bloody white blanket they pulled off her and disappeared in a hurry. Doctors and nurses rushed through the ward in what felt like a frenzy. Eve couldn’t keep up with the movements. The nurse fussed over her. “How far along are you, hon?”

  “Thirty-three weeks.” Her own voice sounded hollow and detached. “I think… I think I want to go home now.”

  “Well, we can't let you go until we've made sure you and your baby are okay, can we? I’m going to hook you up to the sonogram.”

  Eve fought the overwhelming urge to get up and walk out. If this had been just about her health, she would have. But her child deserved more of her; more strength, more determination. The monitor buzzed. The nurse lifted her shirt, carefully slipping a wide belt under her back and around her stomach. Eve broke out in goose bumps, shivering. The sharp, astringent stench coupled with the glaring lights only made her want to run and hide.

  She needed normal, she needed safe. A sound caught her attention, soft at first, a faint flutter that grew louder when the nurse dug the scanner into her stomach. Eve stopped breathing. Her baby’s heartbeat absorbed all of her attention. The beat galloped through the speakers.

  “Who’s your doctor, Eve?” The nurse pulled her attention away. She reached for her hand, scraping under her nails. The bloody scrapings fell onto a piece of white paper which the nurse folded and placed into a bag. Eve didn't answer. She held on to that sound with everything she had. “Eve, honey, I need to know who your doctor is so I can access your records.”

  “I don't have one.”

  The nurse’s silence drew out before she spoke again. “Do you mean you don't have a doctor now? Who was your doctor, honey?”

  “I haven't been to a doctor.”

  “Eve.” The nurse’s chastising tone sounded like Eve’s mother. She stepped into her line of sight. “You mean, never?”

  Eve’s neglect wasn't born out of total disregard or ignorance. She made sure to check her blood pressure every week and used the scales to track her weight. She could barely afford to survive, let alone handle the medical bills which were sure to overwhelm her. Food, clothes, and the few utility bills; those she could juggle because had been essential. She wasn’t going to let some nurse make her feel bad for being poor. Eve turned away and stared at the speakers, holding onto those precious, warped sounds while anger was replaced by guilt. “Well, let's get a good look at your baby then, shall we?”

  The nurse disappeared and returned with a trolley, complete with a monitor and a device like a barcode scanner from the pharmacy.

  “What's that for?”

  “I'm going to press this onto your stomach and we’re going to get a picture of your baby on the screen. I'm sure you'd love to see him—or her—wouldn't you, honey?”

  Him, it’s a him. Eve didn’t need any scan to tell her that, she’d always known. The thought of seeing her son silenced her, while her heart pounded inside her chest. The nurse pulled at her shirt. The blood-soaked fabric clung to the mound of her stomach. The nurse pushed the stiff fabric out of the way and turned back to the machine. Eve stared at the blood on her stomach. Blood everywhere. She whimpered and wiped at her belly. Some of the blood had dried, staining her body with blotches of dark blood. The nurse turned back. Her eyes widened. “Wait. You can’t… do you know who’s blood this is, Eve?”

  Eve stared at her as the images came to life inside her mind, her attacker, the officer. “Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up, okay?”

  She slid open a metal drawer on the trolley and grabbed more swabs, soaking the tip until they were red before reaching for alcohol wipes. The moistened wipes felt cold against Eve’s skin, the sterile scent pungent before evaporating. The nurse wiped until most of the blood was gone. “See, it’s coming right off.” She picked up a bottle and squeezed gel across her stomach.

  “Let's have a little look, shall we?” She dug into her stomach with the device, tilting the broad head until an image displayed on the monitor. “Here we are. There's the placenta and the cord and there we are... oh, it looks like your baby is shy, Eve. Let's see if I can angle this better and get a good look.”

  She squeezed more of the gel across her stomach and pushed with the wand. Her baby’s head splashed across the screen. “Here we are, there is the head, and.... oh, wait a minute....”

  As though he knew they were watching, her baby turned his face toward them. He stared at Eve through the monitor. Something spread out behind his body, flashing across the screen. For a second, Eve would’ve sworn the blurred shapes looked like wings. The nurse gasped and the screen went black. “I... I... don't think that’s right.”

  Eve felt her stomach sink and the room swam. Eve tightened her grip on the bed. “What was it?”

  Eve tried to sit up, but the wand pressing against her stomach held her firm. “Nothing.” The nurse didn’t bother to look at her. “The machine is broken, that's all. I’ll try again.”

  She grabbed the instrument and pressed against her stomach. Pain ripped along Eve’s side, but she held her breath. The nurse pushed down harder, deeper. Pain flared and Eve cried out. She felt something give inside her. Something was very wrong. “Please… stop.”

  Eve tried to shift away. But the nurse didn't seem to care. She didn’t even look up, her once-caring demeanor now replaced by ruthless determination.

  “You're hurting me. Stop it. You're hurting me!”

  “How?” She whispered. The vague image on-screen turned from the black and white blobs showing the placenta and cord, to her son’s body. Then the screen dimmed and turned black.

  “I said, stop it!” Eve yanked the belt that bound her to the machine and wiped the gel from her stomach with the sheet on the bed. Her bloody shirt was cold and hard, but it was all she had, so she yanked the hem down over her bump and sat up. Her feet hit the floor as she slid from the bed.

  The nurse reached out for her, but Eve wrenched from her grasp. “Wait, Eve. We're not done.”

  “No, but I am.” No one tried to stop her as she made for the exit and out into the night. She fought back a sob and failed. Hot tears slid down her cheeks. Eve kept on walking.

  Cars flew by as she stumbled back to her apartment. No one slowed or stopped. She didn’t blame them. Eve followed the road into town while the sun rose in the sky. The light filled the gaps between the buildings with hues of soft yellow and glaring gold. Daylight was here and all Eve wanted to do was curl up and cry.

  The sunrise was beautiful, although alien. The sharp gravel on her soft socks made her progress painful and slow. Her apartment building loomed like a bad dream in front of her. She didn’t want to go back inside. But what choice did she have? She had nowhere else to go. Her attacker’s words came back to her. I’m coming back for you. The police said they would come back to get her, they would make her safe. But how could they, when they weren’t safe themselves? Nothing they could do would help her. If she stayed here in Hurrow, death waited for her and her son.

  The morning sun hadn’t yet touched her apartment. The building sat shadowed and still, as though the radiance knew what’d happened here and wanted no part of it. Neither did she. Her feet became heavy the closer she came to the building. Eve pushed through the glass door and climbed the stairs, one slow step at a time, until she stopped just before the landing of her floor. Why am I even here? What’s there to come back to? Death was all that came to her, their death, followed by hers. The bark of a voice cut through the silence of the early morning. The voice was followed by a static squelch of a police radio and Eve stopped before she reached the top of the stairs. What had she come back for? To be questioned, to be poked and prodded and ultimately locked up when she told them what’d really happened? Who would believe her when she could hardly believe what she’d seen with her own eyes? She gripped the rails as she descended back down the stairs. There was nothing here for her anym
ore, not in this building, or in this town. Her only chance of surviving this was to run.

  Her footing slipped and Eve stumbled. Her finger skimmed the cold steel of the rail and grasped hold of the metal, clutching it tightly to keep from falling. But it couldn’t stop her from plunging head first into the feeling of hopelessness. She sank to the stairs silently, landing on her butt. Where would she go? She had no money, only a blood soaked T-shirt and no shoes.

  An image came to her. A pair of worn shoes and faded jeans she’d left at the café. She clung to that memory. Her heart soared. Clean, warm clothes and… the café… had money. It wasn’t much, a few hundred dollars they kept for the next day’s till, but it was enough to get her out of here. Could she really do that? Break in and steal? The radio cracked out loud again, she caught a word here and there… they were looking for her. She didn’t have much time. She thought about her decision hard, yeah she could steal. She touched her stomach, she’d do whatever she had to.

  Eve retreated down the stairs and searched the streets in both directions, squinting, trying to hear a siren over the racing of her heart through the glass door before exiting the building. The cops would be after her. She was hunted by both the good and evil. She’d have to be careful. She stepped outside and keeping close to the shadows, she hobbled along the sidewalk, the soles on her feet aching from the harsh ground. The dark hid her as Eve slipped from shadow to shadow, hugging the buildings to where the café waited.

  Hurrow’s Coffee House was still swathed in darkness by the time Eve reached its doors. Her gaze darted from one end of the street to the other. Each time a stop light changed, her heart leapt at the red glow. Sensing no one around, she slipped down the side of the building, heading for the rear of the café. The barstool used by the smokers sat outside the back door. It was a policy not to smoke near the café, but implementing and enforcing did not go hand-in-hand, not in this place, anyway.