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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  EDRIC HASTING WAS wounded, but not in a way his new body could heal. Mercy had been killed, and as a consequence, severed his connection to this new immortal world. He tried to swallow the thickness in his throat, but it was stuck like a piece of rotten flesh. How he’d changed. In mere months, he’d become so powerful and yet so weak. Mercy was the only thing he needed, the only thing he craved, and now… now she was no more.

  The memory of his birth came back to him. His true birth—his vampire birth, all those months before. When he woke on that cold tiled floor—dead—he’d been changed forever. He was a new species. He’d searched his mind and his body for what had made him… him. His heartbeat was gone. His lungs sagged lifeless in his chest. Both organs were now unimportant. Edric hunted his memories and his mind faded.

  He clenched his fists. Muscles popped, ligaments screamed with the pressure. His body still worked, but it was different. His memories were still there, but they’d been changed. They’d changed to a pale recollection of the trophies he once had. They were lifeless, every… single… one. “It’s gone, all gone!”

  In his memory, Mercy sat on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes were wide, sparkling with life he now knew was a lie. Edric snarled. Mercy had lied to him. She… lied… to… him. Fucking bitch! He smashed his fists on the sides of his head, desperate for the color to return to his faded world. His dolls were the only thing he cared about, the only thing he had left. They’d been the only thing that kept him alive, kept him sane in a world that made no sense to him at all. They were gone and he’d never get them back.

  “You’ll live again, Edric. I promise you. Once you realize what you’re capable of, you won’t need your memories. You’ll create them, live in them, every day. You’ll know what it truly means to be untouchable.”

  He climbed to his feet. “Fuck you, bitch. I’m out of here.”

  She clucked her tongue and chuckled, “It doesn’t work like that anymore, Edric. But let me show you how it does work.”

  His new body flinched involuntary when Edric recalled what happened next. He’d been punched in the chest. The blow punctured like a screwdriver. He screamed, clutched his hands over the drilling pain and stumbled backward. He felt his incisors soften and stretch, only to re-solidify into steel-edged spikes. He spun, ready to take the fucking bitch down, but there was no one near him. Mercy remained on the other side of the room, smiling. He was struck so hard he felt his ribs give. The unseen blows came again, and again. He was thrown backwards and collided with the ground. Dazed, he scrambled to the wall and screamed as the unseen force penetrated him again, burning him, tearing through his mind. Mercy laughed, although her lips never moved. She laughed inside his mind.

  Edric knew in that moment the unseen force was her. Mercy was doing this. He stared down at his torn, blood-soaked shirt, expecting to see the garment drenched with fresh blood. He reached for his throat, but the cool column of flesh was whole. Under his rib cage, his useless lungs felt shredded. Mercy cleaved through what presence occupied his flesh and bones, ripping him apart in one minute and rejoining him in the next. Lightening seemed to streak through his body, piercing bone and shattering cartilage. Power blew his circuits and fried his brain.

  Edric was filled to overflowing. His muscles twitched, his cock grew hard, and the desire to fuck and fight overwhelmed him. He pumped his hips into the air like he was a Viagra junkie, a fucking whore. He climaxed hard, shooting his load inside his pants as Mercy gave him one last lick of energy and left.

  Although, she never really left him. She couldn’t. He knew they were connected now, in a way he’d never felt before. The same energy that coursed through her now coursed through him. In that moment, he understood how dangerous she was. How fragile his existence had been and still was. He was weak compared to her. Power was her leash and she had him whipped. What they shared was more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced. No human connection on this earth could compare.

  Two weeks after she turned him, she’d sat next to him. The smile on her face was cruel and her eyes glowed with excitement. “It's time.”

  Those two words were all he needed. They were on a mission, one bigger than all of them, or so Mercy said. Her orders came from a voice on the phone. A vampire who was never to be questioned and never to be betrayed, unless Edric wanted the status of undead revoked. Edric wanted to know more. How could he trust something or someone he didn't know? Mercy refused his questions. In the end it didn't matter. He was given more than he could ever dream of, more power than he’d ever felt before, a free reign to kill as much as he wanted, and someone to share his bloody thirst with.

  Their first kill had been euphoric. He and Mercy hunted the woman together. For the first time in his life, he completely shared himself with another. The terror they inflicted took him to a new high. Afterwards, they fucked, rolling around in the blood and gore. It was a high he wanted to experience again and again.

  Now Mercy was gone. Edric sat in this empty house. His rain-soaked jumper had turned grey, covered with the ash of his maker. He floated, tethered to nothing and no one.

  He clenched his fists. His hands should be soaked with her blood, but they were clean. Edric closed his eyes, replaying the night in his mind. The blonde bitch fought savagely. At first he loved stalking her, playing with her, letting her think she’d gotten free, only to reach out and grab her again. The power he’d felt as he toyed with her. He listened to her screams and watched her frantic attempts to get away. Then it had all gone wrong…. He wanted Mercy back… he wanted his connection back and to feel a sense of purpose in his life once again. Most of all, he wanted the blonde bitch dead. He threw the knife. The blade clattered to the ground. He slid down the wall, his purpose gone.

  His body shook with anger. The blonde bitch mocked him with her life and Mercy’s death. His failure to kill her was all he thought about, all he saw. Over and over, Mercy died in his arms and fell away to nothing but ashes. Edric drove his fist, feeling the gyprock crumble. Over and over again he punched and smashed, until he reduced the walls to nothing more than white jagged teeth. He was angry at himself for running, for leaving Mercy there, for leaving the blonde bitch alive. He screamed until the sound became too much to bear.

  The ringing of a mobile tore him from the endless replay inside his mind. The insistent tone pulled him to his feet. He stumbled through the house, dazed, yet entranced by the sound, until he found his way into the bedroom they’d used together. The black handset vibrated beside the bed. He made his way to the bedside table and stared at the flashing screen. Three letters spelled a name Mercy had entered into the phone. A name she’d both feared and respected. The name of her Master. It seemed GOD was calling, so he’d better fucking answer. He picked up the handset and hit the button.

  “She’s gone, I take it.”

  The voice on the other end was both calm and controlled. The deep drawl indicated the caller was probably American. Edric wanted to demand to know who he was. Only greed and a keen survival instinct kept him in check. Edric forced back his fangs and spoke carefully, “Yes, Mercy is gone.”

  “And this is her... discovery?”

  “My name is Edric—”

  “No names!” The shout cut him off. The caller’s tone left no room for argument. Not if he wanted to live, he guessed. “You require a connection, and from now on that will be me. When I call, you answer, and you will do what I tell you. Is this clear?”

  Edric's fangs jutted over the tender flesh of his lip. He didn't like being anyone's puppet. But he was smart enough to know when he needed to shut up and play dumb. “What do I call you?”

  The laugh which came from the handset made his skin crawl. “Well, seeing as how I now know your name, I guess you can call me God.”

  Silence lingered between them, and it was in this silence where the rules were spoken and acknowledged. Neither of them would back down, and each needed the other. He would follow as long as it served him, and in return h
e would continue to do God's bidding. After that, well, he’d always had a reputation for biting the hand that fed him.

  “Very well, we have an agreement. Keep to your current plan, Edric. Remember—pregnant women. Find them, and kill them all. None must be left alive.”

  He had been turned for this very reason, to hunt and kill without remorse. Mercy had said it was because of a plan, one which she wasn’t meant to understand, only to be a part of. “Tell me, why all these women?”

  The silence lingered. “How dare you disrespect me with your question? Hasn’t Mercy taught you better?”

  “Don’t you say her name! Without her I’m nothing, nothing! So if you want me to do your dirty work, you better give me some fucking answers!”

  God hissed.

  “You could say it is in our best interest if a certain child is not born.”

  “How do I find this fucking child? What if I fail?”

  “I cannot and will not let that happen! Do you understand what I am saying?”

  The phone cracked with the sound of inexorable screams. Edric jerked the phone away from his ear. He felt something inside his own body loosen. The display flashed green. God was waiting. He understood what was happening, how his usefulness determined his fragile existence. He'd better not fail. He bought the phone back to his ear and answered, “Completely.”

  “As my descendant, I take thee, Edric, as unto my own.”

  Something inside his chest tore. He clutched at his breast. His flesh and bones were ripping, tearing. Edric clawed at his clothes until his chest was bare. The pain signaled the fusing of him to another, all over again, only this time there was pain. He screamed and fell to the ground. His mind and his body burned as the power from his new Master surged inside of him. Wave after wave of excruciating pain engulfed him until he was pushed to the brink of destruction. Then, abruptly, the pain died away, leaving his body twitching as it tried to reconnect. Edric Hasting had a new Master now, and this one packed a whole lot of punch.

  “Continue with your work. I shall be in touch.”

  Chapter 11

  Adley

  ADLEY SCOTT WAS a dangerous man, no longer tied to the department and to the laws he once sworn to uphold. Now he was free to hunt Edric Hasting.

  ‘Honorable discharge’ had been written on his paperwork; his government pension was assured. On paper it seemed so neat, so well intentioned, and supportive. The family he’d come to know and respect so well had shed a tear and waved goodbye to one of their own. But that wasn't how it went down at all.

  The snarling looks from his co-workers said it all on his first day back after the attack. He walked back into the office floor knowing the time spent in hospital and then rehabilitation hadn’t changed a thing. They hated him just as much as they had all those months ago when he pulled his gun on Edric Hasting in front of his best mate’s son. Their indifference didn't bother him. In fact, he hardly noticed. He was already seeking out his case files.

  Adley spotted the folders, splayed underneath a mountain of paperwork—other cases which seemed far more important than the twelve unsolved murders they covered. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. The usual police banter which buzzed around him seemed out of place, disrespectful even.

  Adley felt his chest moving like a piston, forcing air in and out of his body. Anger clouded his vision. He tried to hold that river of rage inside, but the shit leaked out. He strode over to the desk. He pulled at the files, scattering the papers on top across the desk and onto the floor.

  “Hey! Scott! What the fuck?”

  The detective behind the desk yelled and pushed up from the desk, his gaze blazing. He was a man apparently quick for a fight. A phone rang. The nagging tone had been the only noise on the entire floor as everyone watched him, frozen.

  “Adley, mate. It's okay, just calm down.” Someone moved into Adley's line of vision and he turned, holding fast to the files. He wasn't going to let anyone take them again. The detective held out his hand defensively. For some reason, Adley couldn't remember his name. Blonde hair, blue eyes, home invasion… the Clareton case… Simons? “Simons, yeah. I want these reassigned to me. I'm taking over.”

  Simons nodded and shrugged. “Sure, whatever. We'll go clear it with the CO. It's not like there's been anything new on them anyway.”

  The other officers looked at him strangely now, like he’d stepped across the blue line, and there was no way of getting back. He glanced at the young detective whose desk he’d just trashed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  “It's okay, man. It's cool.” The detective shrugged it off.

  Adley turned away and glimpsed Nathan standing toward the back, watching him. Adley nodded, but there was no response. His old mate’s indifference seemed to sum up the situation perfectly. He didn't belong here anymore.

  He took the cases back to his desk to review the notes he’d taken during the initial investigations. Simons was right, there was nothing new. It was as though Edric Hasting had dropped off the face of the Earth. There was only one other addition to the file. A burnt-out car hidden in an abandoned garage yielded slightly smudged print that was traced back to the piece of shit. One fingerprint was all he needed to give him hope. To give him purpose. Adley knew in his gut the murderer was not only alive, he was on the run.

  Four weeks after he came back on duty, his CO called him into the office. He'd spent the preceding month hounding other departments, investigating disappearances and abductions of children in their area. His CO scowled at him. “You've got to stop with the investigations, Adley. I'm getting complaints. You gotta let it rest.”

  Adley knew when his CO used his first name, he was in deep shit. His gaze wandered around the desk. The closed file lay face down. It was his file, it must be, otherwise why would his CO bother to hide it?

  He could sense hardness in his Sergeant, a finality that’d never been there before. A sense of relief washed over him as his boss started. “The guys don't feel confident working with you anymore, speaking as a friend… I am your friend, right, Adley?”

  He didn't respond.

  “Right. As your friend, I gotta say it'd be best for all concerned if you retired. Now, I know what you're thinking and I've cleared it with the top. Honorable discharge is what you'll get, full pension and the works. We think it’s best ‘cause honestly, you’re not right, mate. You’re really not. I think if you went to the shrinks and talked to them, they’d change your fit for duty status, and we can all get past this. What do you think, mate?”

  Adley thought they were all cowards. A bunch of spineless fucking cowards and he wanted to say the word to their faces, every last fucking one. But he thought about his superior’s suggestion for a moment. He thought about being unrestrained by the department and police procedures. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted that freedom. He lifted his head, staring at his CO. “Where do I sign?”

  The scanner crackled to life beside him, drawing him back to the present. The night before, he’d listened to the verbal gunfire of police codes and panicked officers calling for urgent assistance. He’d tracked the killer south. Edric was winding his way through the larger cities in Queensland before jumping back to the smaller towns. There was no pattern Adley could discern. The killings seemed random. All he needed was one good lead, one act of randomness that really wasn’t random at all. If he could just find that one fucking clue, he could figure all this out. Then instead of chasing Edric, he’d be waiting, ready for the piece of shit before he killed again. The steering wheel squeaked from the force of his grip and he forced himself to relax. It’d do no good to get all worked up just yet. He could miss something vital.

  Edric Hasting was close. He could feel it in his gut. And after almost eight months of hospital beds, physical therapy, and endless hours of compulsory counseling to ensure his pension, he couldn't think or feel anything else. He was obsessed.

  Adley listened for the codes that would lead him to another brutal
murder. Edric's methods had changed after he’d escaped. At first, Adley assumed the piece of shit was dead. But there’d been no body and the reports turned up nothing he could use. This, combined with the fact there’d been no more child murders, lead the detective to believe either the bastard had been killed somewhere else, or somehow the child murderer he tracked had changed.

  Adley had come to the end of his investigation not long after retiring from the force. He had nothing left to go on. For the first time, he had to face the fact—he’d failed. He sat in the hollow shell he called his home with a bottle of bourbon, intent on drinking himself to sleep, when his tears started. They didn't stop, not for a full hour, until he was wrung dry. The late night news repeated an earlier story, most of which he missed, until one shattered voice fought through the fog. The children, God all these children. Who could do something like this? What kind of monster… and then it hit him.

  Children. Pregnant women. They were the same. This killer, the Abortionist, had started killing not long after Edric Hasting disappeared. Adley started to look into this new string of murders. The more information he read, the more he was convinced he knew who the Abortionist was—Edric Hasting. It had to be.

  The Abortionist gained his reputation killing the unborn child first, and then taking his time with the mother. There’d been four murders confirmed to have been committed by the same perp. The wave of hysteria surged with every new murder. The panic was still rising. This suspicion gave Adley hope he’d catch Edric Hasting and put to rest the demons of his past.

  His car became his home and the endless blacktop stretching out before him was his future. Edric Hasting was not only getting more proficient, but increasingly eager for his next victim, and so the numbers grew. Week by week, there were more. More cases and more roads to cover—endless roads and dangerous territories, underneath this southern sky.

  The last time, he’d missed the Abortionist by hours. He was so close, so fucking close! If only he’d been able to get there, he could’ve saved her life. The woman, a twenty-two year old, was found by her husband... the poor bastard. The screams he’d heard when he pulled up to the house still played in his head. That’d been two weeks ago, and by the frenzied pattern of murders, Adley feared it was only a matter of days before Edric struck again.