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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Very good.” He took the paper from her hands and smiled encouragingly. “Now, because of problems in the past, all passes must have a descriptive list attached to them so they are nontransferable. I’m just going to ask you a few more questions. What is your age?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  He stared at her face for several moments, like he was trying to capture her features in his memory, and then made a few notations on the back of a pass. “Would you agree that you have brown hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know your height, Miss Randolph?”

  Adelaide shook her head, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “No, sir.”

  “That’s okay, Miss, just stand against the wall.” He stood from his position at the writing desk and directed her to a certain position. There were a series of lines drawn in the plaster of the wall, obviously marking height. “Just hold your chin high, yes like that, and look straight ahead.”

  Adelaide knew she was blushing furiously at the humiliation of being measured like that, in front of a gentleman she didn’t know. Mr. Moulton, however, didn’t seem a bit fazed by it. He counted up the marks on the wall and exclaimed, “Five foot, five inches. Very well, you can come back over here now.”

  She prayed the ordeal was over.

  “Just one last item. You need to sign the back of the pass. Have you the ability to write?”

  “Yes sir, I do.” She replied, taking the pass from him. “Do I sign on the line at the bottom?”

  “Please.”

  Adelaide carefully inscribed her name at the bottom of the pass. “Do I carry this with me? That’s how it has been in the past.”

  “It needs to be pinned on your clothing at all times.” Mr. Moulton answered. “It can’t just be on your person, it needs to be visible if you are out. You’ve been under the jurisdiction of martial law before, though, so I’m sure you understand what that means.”

  No rights for private citizens. No freedoms. Searches, questions, and curfews…basically, soldiers doing as they wanted to, when they wanted to. Still.

  “You’ll have to come back once a month for a new pass.” Mr. Moulton continued. “That one is only good for thirty days. Do you have any other questions?

  Adelaide thought for a moment and chose her words carefully. “Yes, my youngest sister is four, nearly five. I assume she’ll need a pass, but I’m not certain how she will take the oath. She cannot read.”

  “She’ll definitely need a pass.” He nodded furiously, his hat sliding forward on his head. “It will be up to you to make sure it is pinned on her. You can come in with her when I issue the pass. It’s a much shorter process to register children.”

  Easier was an understatement. Lizzie was simply asked if she agreed to be a good citizen of the Union. Mr. Moulton wrote down her description, measured her height, and had her “make her mark” on the back of the pass. Adelaide was proud of her sister: her mark was just a very large capital E.

  Once Sarah and Levi had been through the grueling issuing process, they headed home. It had taken twice as long to get the passes as it had under previous military commanders. Major Pratt, apparently, was very thorough. Mr. Moulton didn’t have any straight pins, so he cautioned them to keep the passes in hand in case they were stopped. Adelaide held on to Lizzie’s pass, Sarah held on to Lizzie.

  As they made the turn off High Street, Adelaide caught sight of Thomas standing casually against a lamppost. He walked over and fell into step next to her, taking her arm in his. “You have your passes, I take it?”

  “Freshly issued.” She showed him the slip of paper, flipping it over to show him her signature. “Were you waiting for us, Captain? Just making sure we keep our rebellious activity to a minimum?”

  He smiled impishly. “Perhaps. You looked like you needed an escort home, which I, as a soldier in Lincoln’s Army, am more than willing to provide. These streets are dangerous, you know.”

  She adored the way he looked in his dark blue jacket and light blue trousers. The cut of the fabric suited him well, highlighting his broad shoulders and trim waist. “Things have changed a bit around here. You can feel it.”

  “It’s a husk of its former life.” He briefly turned and looked towards the Armory grounds. “When we first marched down from Bolivar, I thought they were just scorched. It wasn’t until later when I walked through, that I realized the destruction. Sometimes I think I’m going to hear the trip hammers start up…I can still smell the grease and smoke. I wake up thinking it’s time head to work, to stand with David Hamilton and fashion those guns…”

  Fannie Egan darted out of her father’s store and pushed past them, calling out, “Sir, sir, wait!” Adelaide paid little mind to the girl. “It’s been like this since you left. There has never been a time—”

  She was cut off by a gunshot so loud, so close, that she thought it was right beside her head. Thomas pulled her to him and then shoved her into the narrow doorway of Annie’s old house, covering her body with his. He motioned to Levi and Sarah, still a few steps ahead. “Get inside!”

  Over his shoulder, Adelaide watched several men in blue tackle another soldier, knocking his rifle to the ground. Lying in the middle of the street, a dark blue kepi only inches from her outstretched fingers, was Fannie Egan. A pool of dark red blood was spreading from the back of her head. Even from where she stood, Adelaide could see half of Fannie’s skull was gone.

  A woman across the street started screaming.

  Adelaide stared numbly from her perch on the stoop. Fannie’s mouth was still open and blood soaked her blonde hair, the obliterated portion of her face more like rotted meat. She had just been standing there full of life. Now she was dead.

  Thomas pulled her down from the stoop and pushed her towards the house, yelling orders over his shoulder to the gathering group of Union soldiers. Inside the store, Lizzie was clinging to Sarah, her cheeks flushed and wet with tears. Adelaide marched right past them and to the back staircase, feeling the tension to sob building up in her chest. She was sick of the war, sick of the ghost of death that always seemed to hang above the Ferry like storm clouds. So many innocent people had died there, first Frederick Roeder and now Fannie Egan. Three years of the damn war and nothing had changed. It was only getting worse.

  She burst into the bedroom and resisted the urge to scream and kick the bed. Damn it. It seemed like everything would be okay when Thomas returned. He’d protect them and they’d be safe and all of this shit would stop. The Union Army, the Confederate Army, whoever happened to be occupying the town at the time never cared if anyone was safe. They cared about their strategy and their battles. Residents of the Ferry got stepped on, they got pushed around, they got murdered—and things never changed. The war continued. The death was endless.

  “Adelaide.”

  She turned and looked over her shoulder. Thomas was standing in the doorway, his revolver in hand. “Adelaide, they caught him. It’s okay, Major Pratt will handle it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Adelaide pressed her palms to her forehead, digging her fingers into her hair. “Just like the Provost Marshall before him handled it. And the General before that and the commander before that. It never ends, Thomas. No matter how much blood is spilled in these streets, it never ends.”

  Thomas didn’t say anything. He quietly closed the bedroom door and unhooked his waist belt, placing it, with its hanging sword, and the revolver on the chair next to the bed. He pulled her to him and cupped her cheeks in his rough hands. His fingertips stroked her cheekbones, tracing down the side of her face and finally tilting her chin up towards him. “If my love for you could win this war, it’d have been over three years ago. You’ve lived through hell.”

  Adelaide stared up at him, searching his deep eyes. “She was just a child. We’ll bury her and I’ll send her spirit to the other side, but when will this end? The portal won’t shut until they’ve had their fill, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’
t remember how many we’ve stopped. The spirits, the wraiths. I don’t want this on my shoulders anymore.”

  He touched his forehead to hers, sliding his hands back into her hair and gently cradling her against him. “I know, sweet love. I know.”

  “I remember their faces. All of them.”

  “You shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone. I wish…I wish I could help you in some way.”

  “It never used to be just me. Before the war, there were the other girls but they’re gone now, too.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. “You’re all I have left.”

  Thomas leaned over and kissed her softly. “I’ll always love you.” He kissed her along her jaw line and then moved to her mouth; deeply, urgently.

  Adelaide kissed him back, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. He tasted of tobacco, but she didn’t care; she had always craved his touch, always craved being with him. Thomas moved his hands from her cheeks and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and kissing her harder, running his tongue against hers. Moving his hands to her hips, he pushed her down on the bed.

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Thomas, you have to be quiet! They’re just downstairs, they can’t hear us.”

  He kissed her again, wrapping one arm around her waist and using his free hand to guide her onto her back. “I’ll be quiet.” His hand slid from her side to her skirts; he began pulling them up, shoving petticoats aside. Letting his hand linger on her drawers for a second, he used his knee to spread her legs apart. “I’m more worried about you being quiet.”

  Adelaide reached up and brought his face back down to hers, pressing her lips to his again. Thomas fumbled with the buttons on his trousers and then pulled away, looking at her intently. “God, I love you.”

  “I love you, Thomas. Since the first moment I saw you.”

  He leaned down and trailed his kisses down her neck, murmuring something against her skin that she couldn’t quite understand. Moving his hand back between her legs, he slowly slid one finger inside her, quickly followed by another. She squirmed against him, her breath caught in her throat. Thomas pulled his finger out and touched his forehead to hers. “I’d do anything to make you forget this war.”

  “Just don’t stop.”

  He lowered his full weight down on her, cupping his hand behind her knee and tilting it forward to her shoulder. She was ready to succumb to the drunken, tingling feeling of his rhythm; she wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in him. Her eyes began to flutter shut, she felt him adjust his cock against her, ready to slide inside her.

  And then she saw Fannie.

  The girl was standing beside the bed, staring at her. Half of her face was gone and only one eye was left. Blood tricked down her chin and the one remaining eyebrow was cocked down in a frown. Not all the Yankees are nice. I just wanted to give him his hat back.

  Adelaide gasped, shoving herself upwards from Thomas. She fumbled into her pocket, yanking her watch free from the folds of skirt fabric. Just seeing the form of the girl made her cry; tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Fannie. This wasn’t supposed to happen to you.”

  He won’t save you, Miss Adelaide. Yankee or Rebel, all they want is the blood of this town. Thomas Cooper—

  Adelaide couldn’t stand to hear anymore. She jammed her finger against the watch clasp before she even held it out in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain and the light. The watch burned against her palm, hotter than she’d ever felt before. It was worse than the child in the stairwell years before: Fannie Egan was pure. She was cut down trying to help someone.

  She could barely hold the watch steady. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The moment the watch face slammed shut, she dropped the watch to the mattress and burst into fresh tears. Thomas scrambled up and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head to his chest. “I’m sorry, sweet love. I’m so sorry.”

  “I just want it to stop; all the death and dying. I just want it all to go away.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, smoothing her hair back from her forehead as he murmured, “I love you, Adelaide, I love you more than anything. And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  “I think I love you more.”

  He kissed her tenderly, trailing his fingertips down her cheek. “Impossible.”

  Chapter 29

  Early November, 1863

  NIGHTMARES ABOUT FANNIE Egan plagued her. Every night, she woke up in a sweat, tears streaming down her cheeks. If only she’d stopped the little girl as she ran past, if only she’d asked her what she was doing and had Thomas take the kepi. Maybe things would be different; maybe she’d have lived. Thomas held her against him as she cried, promising her that he’d keep her safe; that he was an officer with the Federal Army and he’d let nothing—and no one—bother her family again.

  But all of Thomas’s promises couldn’t stop the scourge. It couldn’t stop the flow of the dead.

  The air already turned cold well before winter, but by the first full week of the month it was almost unbearable. Levi had taken to prowling around windowsills, checking for the flow of icy air and any loose woodwork he could tack down. Adelaide wasn’t certain he knew what he was doing, but his work somewhat stifled the flow of air in the store and back room. He was good at what he did.

  Adelaide was facing a new problem; one she had not experienced in quite some time. Since Mr. Egan and his wife left the Ferry after Fannie’s murder, food was harder to acquire. Part of the problem was, of course, the blockades, but it seemed like there was suddenly less food available. Thomas was somehow able to get extra food for her, but it still seemed like there was never quite enough to go around. Some nights she went to bed hungry. And some nights, she pretended to be full so the others would eat.

  Hours after she retired to bed Adelaide still lay awake, staring into the darkness of the bedroom. She felt hungry and cold, but certainly not tired. It wasn’t even the coldest time of the year yet and the quilts seemed to suddenly lack the appropriate thickness. She didn’t remember them being so thin, so threadbare. There was no way she would be able to get enough fabric to make new quilts. But then…she and Sarah still had several fancy gowns left. It could be possible to cut them up and make new quilt tops. The way the war was going, there wouldn’t be a need for fancy gowns anytime soon. Maybe it was time for them to serve a different use.

  She wondered how Thomas was able to keep warm downstairs, going over seemingly unending piles of military paperwork, with only one Army issue wool blanket. He cradled against her every night and pulled her chemise up so they slept skin to skin. But still, she knew he didn’t stay in bed all night. Something drove him to check and recheck the security of the doors and windows. Sometimes he had paperwork, somethings he kept the fire going at night. Every morning she woke up with him beside her.

  She wondered what he was doing now.

  Rolling on her side, she shook the thought from her head. He told her he had paperwork that needed done, things that simply couldn’t wait until the next morning. Everything was fine. He was just perpetually restless.

  But it gnawed at her mind. It wouldn’t hurt anything to creep down the stairs a little, to see if he was still awake. He most likely was hard at work; she could then just turn around and go back to bed. Maybe then she could get some sleep, once satisfied that he was warm enough and would be cuddled up next to her at any moment.

  Slowly, she slid out from underneath the covers and fished around in the darkness for her heavy wool shawl. As soon as she found it, she wrapped it around her shoulders and crept to the bedroom door. Her decision to go downstairs was obviously a mistake, she saw that, as the entire building was as cold as a frozen bucket of water.

  The hallway was pitch black, forcing her to walk slowly as she made her way through the main sitting room. Part of her was terrified of bumping into someone, but she quickly realized the only one daft enough to be walking around
at the time of night was her. The boarding rooms were silent.

  As she reached the top of the staircase, she could see the soft glow of a candle flickering on the walls below. He was still working; she should just go back to bed now. Something inside her pushed her forward, slowly creeping down the steps.

  He was reading a stack of papers by the candlelight, his blanket pulled up over his chin. He caught site of her almost immediately. Without saying a word, he set the papers down and pulled his blanket back, motioning for her to crawl underneath it with him.

  She hurried down the remaining steps and crawled onto his lap. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

  Thomas pulled the shawl from her shoulders and spread it on top of the blanket, tucking both around her. He pulled her against him and vigorously rubbed her arms. “Just looking over something from the army. Nothing important. God, you’re frozen, what are you doing up?”

  “I can’t sleep without you next to me. I’ve become spoiled.”

  “I shouldn’t be too much longer, my beauty.” He peered down at her chemise. “Though, I am not at all convinced you can be warm in that, with or without me.”

  She idly ran her fingertips along his white linen shirt. The buttons were sewn on unevenly; it was distracting. “I lost everything else when they burned the house in Ferry Lot. But, honestly Thomas, since when do you let me sleep with clothes on?”