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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “I mean, no, baby,” I quickly soothe. I’m angry with myself. I should never have spilled to Jonas. It’s going to cost me my job. “You’re tired. You’ve had a long day. Let Sultana take care of you.”

  “She’d better hurry up.”

  You just told Jonas your secret, Nigel conveys to me from outside the room. There’s your problem.

  I know, I growl at him. Back off.

  He blinks at me with catlike arrogance, through the transparent walls, turns, and saunters away.

  Augh, I silently moan. A case of vulnerable interruptus. I have got to stay cool, calm, and in control to do what I do in here. “One second, big guy,” I say to Captain Jack. “There’s a wee technical glitch but I’ll have it handled in just a moment.”

  “You’re killing me. I pay good money for you, bitch.”

  “I know, I know, but…” I close my eyes. Will myself to button up every chink in my armor. Will myself back to control, control, and more control. The lights splutter and blink. Suddenly I am plunged into Captain Jack’s head. He’s standing before me looking every bit like that long-ago character from my grandparents’ lifetime, Captain Jack Sparrow, a.k.a. Johnny Depp. If I didn’t know what a loser my client is, I might be turned on. “This one’s on me,” I say demurely. “Also, I might need a spanking.”

  “That’s all right, kitten. Let Daddy Jack take care of you. I know you meant no harm. Now get down on your knees and lick my toes.”

  The Headspace game proceeds from there, without a hitch. I lick, entice, provoke, stimulate. He comes on my hair, or that’s what he thinks he does. In truth, he probably came all over a towel in his dirty office space. The only real hitch is the sense of cooties I get from Captain Jack. I’ll need a good long shower tonight. But first, I’ll have to deal with Jonas and my unraveling emotions.

  Chapter 3

  ONE HOUR AND thirty-two minutes later, Jonas is on my doorstep. The guy is nothing if not prompt. His palm is pressed to his swollen cheek and he looks none too happy.

  I’ve had plenty of time to fortify my armor. I’m cool, calm, and collected. In control. I’ve got this. “I take it you had more issues at the dentist than you anticipated?” I say, easing the door open for him.

  Even though I knew he was coming, I’m always cautious about answering the front door. It’s part of the job hazards. One time a client found out where I live. I don’t know how he found me, but he did and he stood on my front stoop for an hour until the police arrived to take him away. He said he was in love with me and would die with me or die without; I said I’d never met the guy in my life and they carted him away. Ever since then I’m a little bit paranoid.

  “They extracted a tooth,” he mumbles. “We’ve progressed in our culture in some amazing ways. We’ve developed some unbelievable technologies. But…dentistry is still dentistry.”

  “Gah! You got that right!” I exclaim. “Well, come on in. I’ll get a couple of cold ones out of the fridge and be right with you.” Before I follow him inside I take a look at the street I live on—or, what’s left of it. I live in what used to be a beautiful, old, established suburb of Seattle—the Greenlake District.

  The once-pretty little lake’s polluted as a cesspool, the street is falling apart, many of the trees lining the sidewalk are dead—a lot of what the hippies and activists professed would happen, did happen. I know, I know—sometimes things have to get way worse before they get better—but still it makes me sad when I scan the neighborhood. With a sigh, I close the door and follow Jonas into the living room.

  “Are you ever going to tell me about your mysterious closet?” he asks, pointing to the door to the Headspace.

  “What’s to tell? It’s a closet. Full of ghosts, skeletons, and secrets.” I wink at him, wincing inwardly, and meander into the neat and tidy kitchen to get us some liquid refreshment. When I return, my signature swish and rolling hips in action—I mean I do have a nice ass, all things considered—we twist off the tops, tap the bottle necks together, and pour a generous swig of delicious amber liquid down our waiting throats. Some things, at least, haven’t changed. Micro brewing is one of them.

  He frowns, as if remembering something. “I thought you had to work tonight. Do you get to show up buzzed?”

  “Oh, I took care of a client while you were at the dentist. I’m done for the day,” I lie. Please don’t pry. I love our friendship and don’t want to mess it up.

  He looks at me and smiles. “Took care of a client, huh? That sounds dirty.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. Takes another gulp of beer.

  “Not like that.” I roll my eyes. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.

  He sits on the couch smiling.

  “This is awkward,” I say. “Since when do you not have anything to say?” I pour a sip of the slightly bitter, honey-colored brew in my throat and swish it, making it bubble and burn the inside my cheeks.

  “Since you started the secret spill, I guess.”

  “That was a dumb move. Can I take it back?” I lean forward, letting my forearms rest on my thighs like a guy. My long blond and purple hair sweeps along my hands. I shake my head, tossing it behind me.

  “Not on your life. I like you sixteen times more since you shared your secret.”

  “What do I have to do to merit twenty?” I smile. I’m feeling cocky. Arrogant. In the control zone.

  He cocks his head and studies me. “Never had an orgasm? Ever?”

  “Not unless they’re so inconsequential, I don’t have a clue what the fuss is about.” I eye him suspiciously and take another swallow. “How much time do we have to spend on this topic? I’d rather move along. Let’s talk about you and your girlfriend. Why, exactly, are you with someone you complain about?”

  He sets his beer bottle on the side table a little too forcefully. It slams against the bronze and glass-like polymer with an angry thwack. “Oh! Damn it! Sorry.” He picks up the bottle and kisses it in apology, giving me a smoking hot, sidelong glance.

  Damn it. I pick up the inner brick he’s jostled loose and quickly shove it in place.

  Once more he places it on the table but he’s much gentler. Ignoring my snide remark, he says, “Orgasms are incredible. Orgasms with someone you love are amazing with a cherry and hot fudge on top.” He gives me one of his signature gazes, the kind that slices through my armor. The tip of his tongue darts out and slides along his lips.

  Fuck. Oh, no you don’t, I think. You can’t get to me again. I look away, take a long swallow of my brew. “Like the kind you and the missus have?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that.”

  “Okay. Your longtime ‘wishes she was more’ girlfriend. Better?” I press the bottle to my chest, trying to calm my hammering heart. “It’s hot today.”

  “Every day is hot thanks to global warming. And no, not like the kind Jenner and I have. They’re adequate. They get the job done.” He smirks and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “Geez, none of us had any idea it could get this bad, did we?”

  “You mean those of us who were toddlers, babies, or non-existent specks in our parents’ eyes when all the global-warming talk ensued? No. I was fully preoccupied with not getting a beating at a tender age.”

  Jonas winces.

  He looks at me with something like sympathy, which I loathe. Do not, do not, do not ever feel sorry for me. The past is gone, along with the people who inflicted it on me. I’ve moved on. “Can you wipe that sympathy face off? You know how much I detest someone feeling sorry for me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that you…that I…never mind. I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted. So why don’t you tell me how I can get to the elusive orgasm by December twelfth. Will it come with a bow? In a box? Will Santa himself deliver it as a pre-Christmas gift?” I admit, I’m intrigued when I’m in my invulnerable place…when we’re sitting around, chatting like a couple of guys.

  He takes another healthy swallow, pauses, and then finishes the beer.

>   “Need some bravery, huh? Want another?”

  “Yeah. No. Jenner hates it when I come home smelling of beer.”

  “Does that happen often?” I ask, picking up his empty.

  “Yeah, lately. Lately it does.” He looks off into space. “I’m not happy, Vienna. I’m not happy with her anymore. I…I feel as if I’m outgrowing her.”

  “It’s about damn time. She’s a bitch. Always whining about what you did to her and what you do to her and how you take all the credit for everything. I get ill just listening to her.”

  “Yeah…” Jonas says, and his voice trails off. “I…she…I thought you and I could…”

  I interrupt him. “Hook up so you could have an excuse to leave her? Hell to the no, Jonas. Hell to the fuck no. I will not be someone’s excuse to leave his wife or girlfriend or significant other. No. That’s a commitment I made to myself a long time ago. You want me? You take the steps to extract yourself from the situation that you’re in and then we’ll talk. Only then…” Oh, my God! I silently scream. You didn’t say that!

  I saunter into the kitchen, wishing it didn’t look stupid to sprint, screaming, into the next room, and fetch us a couple more beers. “We still won’t know if it will work. Or if you’re the guy whose cock I’ll come around,” I say, when I hand him his beer. There. Better. Calm as a carrot.

  Jonas laughs his deep laugh again. “It’s a tempting thought.” He takes a sip and looks at me. “So. You’ve had a guy go down on you?”

  Wham! It’s like he detonates my inner fortification. I splutter and choke on my beer. “Puh-leese, Jonas! That’s none of your business!”

  “Have you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Knowing you, the answer is yes. Big cocks inside?”

  Is yours big? I quickly punt that thought. “I’m not going to answer that.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Lots of foreplay?”

  “Jonas!” I say, batting the side of his head. “This conversation is getting much too personal!”

  “I’m just trying to help,” he says, laughing.

  “I didn’t tell you because I needed your help.”

  He instantly sobers. “Why’d you tell me then?”

  “I don’t know. I, uh…” I look away from him. I told you because it’s starting to become an issue. I’m starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I told you because you’re perhaps the only person on the planet whom I trust. Okay. I give. I told you because I want you.

  Good food today. Thanks. Nigel wanders and sits on the floor, staring at me with his golden green gaze. I could’ve told you this would get awkward. He lifts his paw to his mouth and pauses. You should’ve asked me. I would have told you true. His tongue darts out to moisten his paw, and he starts grooming.

  Yeah, well keep it to yourself.

  This is going to mess with you big-time.

  How do you mean?

  You’ll see. He chews and tugs at a toenail, making tiny clicks as his teeth snap together. I think you dropped raisins on the floor. One of them’s stuck to my claw. He pulls with his teeth. There. Ick. He spits out the raisin. It could be for the best, it could be for the worst. Only time will tell.

  “Gah,” I blurt. I shoo away my saucy, know-it-all cat.

  “You and your cat. You always stare at one another as if you’re having a conversation.” Jonas cocks his head at me. “Why did you tell me?” Jonas says again, this time softly. He reaches across to touch my cheek with his finger.

  The caress feels smooth, silky, and intimate. I’m about to drop my head back on the couch, drop my drawers and spread my legs as wide as they’ll go. “Jonas, don’t. What are you doing?”

  He brushes my lips with his rough thumb. “You’re my friend.”

  “And I want to keep it that way.” I gently push his thumb away, trying to calm my frantic breathing. His touch does feel good. Too good… “I’m not some science experiment.”

  “I know that. Neither am I. I have needs, you have needs. Maybe our needs could meet in the middle.”

  “So, we’re back here again, huh? You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “No,” he says, looking me right in the eyes. “I haven’t had too much to drink. We’ve only had one beer. I’ve never had enough of you.”

  Jonas’s boldness is making me nervous. I get kind of squirmy inside. This does not make me feel comfortable, at all. “Jonas…stop. This is the beer talking.”

  “The scant beer consumption only made me tell you things I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I think I’m with the wrong woman.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I eye the front door. Maybe I should shove him toward it.

  “That just means I have a lot to look forward to.”

  I roll my eyes. If you only knew. I think of Captain Jack and Horny Dude and Lonely Guy and Hot Rocket and all the various guys who enter my Headspace. No, Jonas and I are never to be more than friends. A creamy sensation slithers down my throat. “Uh, Jonas? My pulse-com’s going off. I gotta go. I told you, I’m working tonight.”

  “At your mysterious job as some sort of counselor? The one where you get to show up buzzed?”

  “One and the same.” I squirm.

  “I thought you said you were done for the day?”

  “Could be a client emergency. I serve a need for my clients and when the need arises…” I shrug.

  “You heed the call,” he says, unfolding to his entire six-foot-four-inch height. For a snap second his eyes narrow at me.

  My eyes sweep up his muscular body. Intense heat spreads through my body. I quickly turn away.

  “I know when I’m not wanted.”

  “It’s not that,” I protest, standing. Good lord, it’s not that. It’s that I want him too much. I wonder who slipped me the Spanish Fly.

  “I know, I’m kidding.” He reaches to give me a hug like he always does only this time he holds me a little longer than usual. “You feel good.”

  “Thank you.” I let myself linger a little too long, feeling his hard heat begin to form against my belly. Stop this. I push him away, blowing out my breath in one forceful sigh. “You do, too. But we’re still, and always will be, good friends, and duty calls.”

  “Got it. I’m not going to let this topic go, though.”

  “Which one? Your horniness or…?”

  “All of it.”

  I shake my head. “Please let it go. It’s a tender topic.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” he says, winking.

  Fuck.

  He leans over and brushes my cheek with his lips and lets himself out into the sultry autumn evening.

  Chapter 4

  My client has been waiting in the antechamber of the room—a virtual world Kaama helped me devise. It’s got a comfy couch, whatever virtual refreshment the client would like, food, and alcohol. There are no drugs in there—there are never any drugs, real, virtual, make-believe, or otherwise. I insist that my clients enter this space literally drug-free. Their energy is too chaotic otherwise and the game gets all weird. I slip into my Headspace and quickly affix the nodes to my jumpsuit. “Hey, big dog, who wants to come out and play?” I answer, in my typical greeting. This time I’m using the voice of Katiana.

  I’ve zipped my inner walls together like the one of the three pigs who hastily built his house out of sticks. It’s shaky, but it will suffice.

  “Hey, sugar, how’s about some love?”

  I smile. Devon is one of my favorites. Devon is his real name, not just his avatar. He’s beautiful inside this room and out. In here, he likes to show up as a rock-solid, six-foot-six-inch chocolate skinned linebacker just after the game. He’s got dimples and a smile like liquid sunshine. He’s a big, beefy guy who’s a personal trainer out there in the real world. Out there, he’s a devoted husband and father. He likes to come in here and get his masculine groove on from time to time. “Hey, Daddy, what’s your pleasure this time?”

  “Oh, y
ou know I like it rough, baby. Show me you know how a big man likes it.”

  “Oh, you know I do, Daddy. I’ll be your little minx any time.” I know his wife is devoted to him. I know she treats him right. She just refuses to let go in bed when she’s with him. She likes hers vanilla. I like mine however they want it.

  I settle onto the plush sheepskin. I’m tired tonight and the beer has gone to my head. This scene will only be conducted mind to mind, for me at least. I close my eyes and away we go. “How was the game tonight, big dog?”

  “Brutal. But we won. We’re heading for the championship.”

  “Oh, I know you are. You’re a champion in here every day.”

  “Oh, baby, you just say that because I know how to please you.”

  “You do please me right, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Show me. Show me what you mean.”

  “All right, darlin’.” My Katiana 3-D image slinks up to Devon. She switches her hips side to side like a wild pony. I’ve dressed her in a form-hugging, low-cut, glittery gown and high heels. Her makeup has been applied to perfection. She looks pure diva delicious, worthy of a linebacker.

  Devon slips the dress off of one shoulder. He caresses Katiana’s shoulder with his smooth fingers. “Damn, girl, how’d you get skin so soft?”

  “I know you like your woman soft and smooth, baby. But a girl’s gotta keep her secrets, doesn’t she?” Saying the word “secret,” I think of the secret I’ve just spilled to Jonas. The Headspace sputters and darkens.

  “Hey!” Devon calls. “Where’d you go?”

  Shit! Don’t you go getting all vulnerable, V! I take a deep breath and bring myself back to control. The Headspace resumes in all its glorious detail. “Just a little techno glitch, sugar. I might need a man to look at it…a man like you,” I purr.

  “Oh, baby, I’ll do anything for you, you know it.”

  “Then, show a girl what you’ve got.”

  “You mean this thing?” he says, unzipping his fly and releasing his generous length. “Is this what you’re wanting?”