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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  He turned back to the soldier who had originally stopped them. “McDowell. Go ahead and escort them down to the engine house. Let Ritchey know it is with my approval.”

  ‘McDowell’ cocked his head towards the Armory. “You know the way.”

  Sarah, Levi, Mr. MacGrogan, and Adelaide silently trudged through the muck of Shenandoah Street in front of the soldier. It was almost as if they had an unspoken agreement that a single utterance—no matter how small—would bring their journey to an abrupt end. Dead soldiers from the battle on the heights were slowly filing with them, their figures fading in and out of sight as they were drawn to the complex. She wasn’t sure if the spirits sensed them or even cared. They were focused on the neat lines of Armory buildings, at that unseen entrance to some other life. She held her breath. She could feel her watch burning against her thigh, the heat searing through the fabric of her skirts.

  The soldier stopped the group at the Armory gates. “Wait here.”

  Adelaide knew he was going to give his captain’s permission for their entrance into the engine house, this was just some formality, but her eyes were transfixed on the ruins of the Ferry Lot. Their house had been reduced to nothing more than a brick skeleton. The upper floors had been completely destroyed when that damned Yankee Tydnale set it on fire back in February. At some point—when exactly, she couldn’t recall—what was left of the house’s upper half had crashed into the store below. Only the ash blackened exterior bricks remained. Even from where she stood, she could see nothing was left in the pit: the grimy hole that had once been Poppa’s store. The floor was gone; she could see the murky depths of the cellar below.

  They had justified their actions as keeping the Confederate sharpshooters from using the upper floors as nests to pick off Union soldiers. As far as Adelaide knew, there weren’t any Confederates in anyone’s upper floors. Just families.

  Having been so captivated by the shell of their former lives, it startled her when McDowell returned. Sarah shot her a look of impatience. “I don’t know why you stare at it so, it’s not like we can go back.”

  It was an appropriate thought as they walked into the complex. There was still something strange about walking into the Armory grounds, especially after so many years of being barred out by an iron gate. The immense buildings had stood silent for so long, stripped of all the machinery. The men were gone. The soaring smokestack of the Smith and Forging Shop stood vigil over the battered buildings, like a solemn minister over the casket of a murdered man. Glass shattered. Metal twisted.

  The engine house—referred to by many soldiers as John Brown’s Fort—was surrounded by armed men. Adelaide was not at all comfortable approaching the engine house, since she remembered what happened inside. Not since the night the Armory burned had she been so close to it. She’d never seen the inside.

  Now they were led directly to the doors.

  Robert was seated on a squat barrel. When he saw them, he jumped up and crossed the brick floor in a few swift strides. “My dear sisters, Levi! It does my heart good to see you all.”

  They threw themselves into his arms. Tears burned the back of Adelaide’s eyes, but she blinked rapidly, willing them away. “Are you okay, Robert? When are you coming home?”

  He squeezed them tightly. “Lizzie is with Mrs. MacGrogan, I take it?”

  Adelaide peered up at him through her tears. “Why do you avoid my question?”

  Robert sighed and looked at his siblings; stared at them like he was savoring the vision of their likenesses. “They’re talking conscription, Addy.”

  Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What does that mean?”

  Adelaide stared past her brother’s shoulder, stared at the spattering of holes in the brick walls. One of Brown’s raiders—Thompson perhaps—had been bayoneted to the wall at the end of the raid. She wondered which hole had pinned him to his death. She wondered if he was even really gone or if his soul still wandered the streets of the Ferry. “It means he isn’t coming home.”

  “Is that true?” Sarah whimpered. She clutched at his frock coat. “Tell her she’s wrong, she’s always wrong.”

  Robert laughed bitterly. “And to think, it wasn’t that long ago that David Hamilton was urging me to join the ranks of Virginia’s Army. Now I am forced in, Ebersole too. At least I’ll have someone from home to march with.”

  How he could be so calm about it? Adelaide felt like his words reached into her soul and ripped it to pieces. Unable to hold it any longer, she sank to her knees and began to wail. Maybe John Brown was right; maybe Virginia was a guilty land. But her brother didn’t deserve to pay for her sins.

  * * *

  GOODBYE CAME TOO quickly.

  The captain repeated himself as if he thought they hadn’t heard him. “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow you to stay any longer.”

  Robert gathered Adelaide and Sarah in his arms. “Give Lizzie a kiss for me. Levi, you take care of Sarah and Adelaide—you’re the man of the house now. I’ll be home soon enough, so don’t get too comfortable in your new position.”

  Adelaide stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Don’t go. Maybe you can change his mind. We need you here.”

  “I can’t, Addy.” He hugged her, then tweaked her nose as he had done when they were children. “You know I love you three.”

  They nodded. Adelaide’s vision blurred with tears.

  Taking one last look at them, Robert backed away a few steps and took a deep breath. “Just go. It will be easier.”

  Anxiety boiled in Adelaide’s chest and for a moment, she thought she would be sick. She stumbled, nearly tripping over her skirts, out of the dim engine house and into the cold September sunlight. Robert was wrong; there was nothing easy about walking away.

  The captain looked at them, a hint of pity crossing his rugged face. “This isn’t easy for you.”

  An understatement.

  “He’s only doing his duty for his country.” There was a pause. “The duty he wanted to do years ago.”

  Adelaide didn’t believe him. It was a lie, a lie he had perpetuated and potentially believed to clear his own conscience. But her brother was doing his duty in Harpers Ferry: he was taking care of his family. They had been a family of eight. Now there were only four left.

  As they turned to follow Mr. MacGrogan home, the captain spoke up. “There’s just one more thing.”

  Adelaide turned and stared at him. Hadn’t he taken enough from them? Now he wanted their time? “What?”

  “I need your allegiance.”

  “To what?”

  “The Confederacy.”

  * * *

  September 17, 1962

  “ARE YOU SURE I cannot convince you to stay longer? You are no burden, I can assure you.”

  Adelaide forced a smile and patted Mrs. MacGrogan’s hand. “I’m certain. We’ll be fine back at our home, I promise. Running the boarding house and baking bread will keep us busy.”

  The woman sighed. “I will send Mr. MacGrogan to check on you—and often. And don’t hesitate to come here anytime. You are always welcome.”

  Adelaide hugged her tightly. “I shall remember that and call on your hospitality whenever possible.”

  Picking Lizzie up, she adjusted her skirts and stepped out the door. There had been a strange rumbling sound, like the distant roar of thunder, all day. The sky was a mottled blue, but not nearly dark enough to signify poor weather. The noise was disconcerting to her, since too much rain could overflow the rivers. Without Robert, Adelaide wasn’t certain how they would weather a flood. Sarah and Levi trudged ahead of her, but before she could ask their opinion, Sallie Zittle fell into step at her side. “Addy, I heard about your brother. I am so sorry.”

  There were less than three hundred actual residents of the Ferry left—mostly all barred inside their homes—and yet word still traveled remarkably fast. “He’s still down there, but they won’t let us see him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

&nb
sp; Adelaide nodded absent mindedly. “I told you it was impossible to outrun the war.”

  “You were right.”

  Adelaide listened to the distant tumult, still curious of its origin. “Have you any idea what that noise is?”

  She shook her head. “It sounds like a storm is coming.”

  A storm certainly made sense. Perhaps Levi should start bringing goods upstairs now, in case the rivers did start to crest their banks.

  Sarah opened the door to the store and then promptly stopped in her tracks. Adelaide poked her in the back. “Don’t be obnoxious—get inside.”

  “There are people in there.”

  She and Sallie stood on their tiptoes, trying to see over Sarah’s shoulders. Finally, unable to see around her sister, Adelaide squeezed past her and into the store. Men were crowded on the floor, huddled together so tightly in spots that it was difficult to see the floorboards beneath. Several men leaned against the wall; one gentleman holding his head in his hands, staring at the window with vacant, empty eyes. A man perched precariously on top of the counter, his arm draped over his face. The smell in the room nearly made Adelaide vomit: it was almost as if someone had turned over a privy on the floor.

  All eyes were transfixed on women in the doorway.

  Adelaide stared at them, speechless, for a moment and then blurted out, “What is going on here?”

  A man, his white shirt almost completely red from blood, stepped out from the back room. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “No. We live here.”

  His shoulders drooped, disappointment registering in his red rimmed eyes. “We’d hoped it was vacant.”

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “Please, Miss.” Leaning up against the doorframe, he wiped his hands on an apron, leaving smears of blood behind. “They’re wounded. They won’t be no trouble.”

  She softened. Not only were the men obviously battered from the siege, but they looked half starved. These weren’t the men who had broken into their store and arrested Robert; these seemed more like the left over husks of men who had faced death—and made the decision to march forward anyway. “Have you enough water?”

  “No. Some of them haven’t had water since before battle.” His eyelids looked as if they were ready to shut, for sleep to come as he stood. “We used what was here. I just don’t have enough able men to walk down to the river and get more.”

  Adelaide cast a glance at Levi. There was no need to speak; without a word, he walked to the back and retrieved the water buckets. Judging by the paleness of his face as he walked back through, she knew that something bad was taking place in the back.

  “We should make some bread.” Sarah murmured, taking Lizzie from Adelaide. “They look so hungry.”

  Adelaide cleared her throat. “Is there any way we can help?”

  He looked relieved, but somewhat sad. “Thank you, Miss, but I doubt you’d be interested in the help I require.”

  “At least give me the option to decide, sir. I’m small, but I’m strong.”

  “These men,” he nodded towards the men crowded practically on top of each other in the main room, “have not yet been tended.”

  “That is a manageable task.”

  He hesitated. “I pray you don’t have a weak stomach, dear lady. What I have seen during this war would bring a grown man to his knees.”

  Adelaide swallowed hard, but stepped forward, picking her way through men. “If I can help, I will do my best.”

  He handed her a pile of dirty, bloodstained strips of cloth. “Bandage what you can. If the wound is too gaping, it may just need a few simple stitches. I…ah…I won’t make you do that.”

  She took the bandages and headed towards one end of the room. As Adelaide passed her sister, Sarah grabbed her elbow. “What about bread?”

  “If you want to scrape the flour off the flour, do as you wish.” Adelaide paused, her brow knitting in a frown. “Actually, take the leftover squash and potatoes. Maybe we can make some soup—you could always go see if Mr. Egan has anything left. Or the MacGrogans.”

  “I’m not cooking in the back…not with them.”

  “Then cook at Mr. Egan’s and bring it over.” Adelaide took a bucket from Levi as he passed through the room. “I don’t care, Sarah, just do something.”

  Sallie touched her arm. “Let me get a cup. I’ll help you pass out the water.”

  Taking a deep breath, Adelaide squatted down next to the first soldier. His lips were black from gunpowder and his face darkened with dirt, but was accentuated by piercing blue eyes. “Thank you for your kindness, Miss. It’s been…it’s been so long since I’ve seen hospitality.”

  Sallie handed him a cup of water. He looked so grateful, so overjoyed, that Adelaide nearly broke down into tears. She bit her lip. “You’ll have to forgive me, sir, I don’t know where you’re hurt.”

  “Oh, just my feet.” He adjusted his position so she could reach the bottoms of his feet. “My feet were sore before, but I stepped on pieces of a busted shell. That didn’t make them less sore, I can rightly tell you that.”

  Adelaide peered at the bottom his feet, immediately certain he understated his wounds. The soles were nearly rubbed raw, crackled and black with dried blood. Large gouges criss-crossed each foot, no doubt where he had stepped on spent metal. “What happened to your shoes?”

  “I can’t remember the last time I had shoes.”

  Someone tugged on her skirt. “Miss…oh, miss, can you help my friend?”

  Adelaide turned slightly and looked at a young man lying on his stomach next to her. The side of his face was caked with blood, obviously it had poured from a gash in his scalp. “One moment, sir, let me finish with this gentleman and I will tend to you.”

  “He’s so tired.” He tugged at her skirt again, leaving prints of blood on the faded fabric. “I think he’s drifted off to sleep. He’s lost an awful lot of blood, Miss, so if you could hurry, I’d be much obliged to you.”

  Adelaide finally looked past the soldier to the man lying next to him. He looked so young, probably younger than Luke, and his blood soaked jacket was draped on his thin, boyish shoulders.

  The man was dead.

  * * *

  IT WAS NOT until later that Adelaide discovered the roar was not thunder, but the sound of artillery drifting over from a tiny town perched against Antietam Creek in Maryland. They were told the casualties were beyond all comprehension; men torn to shreds by artillery blasts and musket fire. Men talked of seeing a pink mist: watching their friends literally disappear into nothing when struck by canister or grape shot.

  Most casualties, it seemed, didn’t live long enough to make it all the way to the Ferry. But their souls did, by the tens of thousands. It was the most she’d ever seen at once.

  And yet, the scourge continued.

  Chapter 25

  April 29, 1863

  SPRINGTIME IN THE Ferry had never been singing birds and cherry blossoms. It was typically rainy or overcast, in years past making it feel like a veritable bath in the grit and grime from the Armory and the industries on Virginius Island. Now, however, the breeze carried the stench of rotting horses down into Lower Town from the heights in Bolivar. Adelaide carried a small bottle of homemade peppermint oil in her apron pocket for the times when the sweet smell of death became unbearable. Summer was rapidly approaching: it was only going to get worse.

  The Rebs—and her brother with them—were long gone. The Yankee Army had returned to the Ferry, but this time, it seemed different. It almost felt like…hope. General Kelley seemed nice enough, but more importantly he seemed intent on bringing the Ferry back to a state of normalcy. After the departing Rebs tore down the railroad bridge, Kelley had it rebuilt. He chased out looters. He sent soldiers to check on her and her sister daily. With all the Yankees in town, the greenbacks flowed again from the boarders they kept and the bread and pies they sold.

  Maybe the Rebs were gone for good. It certainly seemed that way: Kelley’
s men seemed to be doing a good job keeping them out. And from what Adelaide heard, General Hooker was driving the Rebs deeper into Virginia.

  Sallie was turning out to be a marvelous help when with everyday chores like baking bread and running the shop. The more Adelaide got to know her, the more she hoped her family would stay in the Ferry for good. She seemed to know precisely what was going on around town—perhaps an even more knowledgeable gossip than Annie Frankel had ever been. The most recent rumor she perpetuated, the thing that kept them the most occupied, was the persistent report that many Unionists in western Virginia were calling for secession from the state; to return to the Union.

  “Do you really think anyone would show up for a vote?” Sallie wiped flour from the bread pans with a damp cloth. “I’ve heard there will be a Federal guard posted.”

  “That will certainly keep any southern sympathizers away.” Adelaide took a quick swig of water from her mug. “It doesn’t sound like much of a vote, in that case.”

  Sarah shook her head. “You two contemplate so! Women have no right to vote; what difference will your words make? They just cause discontent to you and frustration to me.”

  Hearing the front door of the shop slam, Adelaide rose from her seat and walked into the main room of the store. “How can I help—”

  Susan Hamilton.

  Adelaide narrowed her eyes. God, even seeing her was an irritant. “What do you want?”

  There was a hitch in her step as she sauntered to the counter, almost as if each movement was an irritant to her body. Her eyes scanned the few remaining medicine bottles on the back shelves. “Oh, Addy, this is a business call. You wouldn’t turn away a paying customer, would you?”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”