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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  He looked up in surprise, nearly spilling the drink.

  Clara ran at top speed to catch the cup. She set it on a coffee table and threw her arms around him.

  "What are you—?"

  "Shh. Don't let them hear you. I need to get you out of here. I'm not sure if you know, but she's crazy."

  "Yeah, I noticed."

  "We've got to go." She listened, hearing them still speaking with Mr. Foley. He had a long speech planned, but he probably could have talked about slug races and kept their attention.

  "I can barely walk. It—"

  "Don't worry about it. I'll carry you."

  "But I weigh more than you."

  "Didn't you hear me? Don't worry about it. Did they dress you yet?"

  He looked confused.

  "I was here while you slept earlier. I'll explain everything once we're out of here. I really need to get you home, or anywhere else, really."

  "They had to throw away my clothes because they were ruined."

  "How convenient." Clara wrapped the blanket around him, and lifted him up, careful not to hurt him further. She balanced him, moving his top half over her shoulder.

  "This is so strange."

  Clara ignored him and hurried into the hall again. Nichole and her mom could be heard talking over each other and Mr. Foley. She needed to find a different way out. Unfortunately, she would need a door since he couldn't go through walls. She followed the hall, trying to stay as close to the front of the house as possible. She didn't want to have to worry about getting stuck in the back yard.

  Finally, she spotted a door that looked like it led to the outside. It had a lock on the door and a deadbolt. She ran to it, unlocked the deadbolt, and turned the knob. The door opened, but an alarm sounded, assaulting her ears.

  "Crap. I didn't think about that." She hurried outside, not bothering to close the door behind them. They were holding William captive, let them deal with it.

  They were at the side of the house. A fence behind them indicated that they were in the front yard. She walked around the house. Mr. Foley was still standing in front of the door, and she could hear Nichole and her mom hollering about the alarm.

  "Hold on." Clara took a deep breath. She broke into a run. They were going so fast that Nichole and her mom couldn't see them. "Are you okay?" William wasn't used to moving that fast, and she was worried that he would get sick. Not that she would mind him puking on Nichole's blanket.

  "Just confused. I can barely see anything."

  "I'm running so fast that people can't even see us. If you get nauseated or anything, let me know. But I really just want to get you home."

  "I'll just close my eyes. This feels like a dream, anyway."

  His house was in sight. She didn't slow down until she got to his front door. She knocked, and after a minute, Sally answered, looking confused.

  "What's going on?"

  "William needs to be in his own home."

  "Is he okay? Are you all right carrying him?"

  "I'm fine, and he'll be too."

  Sally moved aside. "You get him settled in. I'll make some food."

  Clara came inside. "I'll get him settled into his room. Don't let anyone in, okay?"

  "Okay." It sounded more like a question. She closed the door.

  "I'll explain later." Clara got William to his room, set him on his bed, and chucked the blanket into the hall. She came back and checked his wounds.

  "Clara, I'm really sorry about earlier. I should have given you—"

  "Shh. Don't worry about it."

  He frowned. "Stop shushing me. I owe you an enormous apology."

  "Did spending time with a psycho help you to see how normal I actually am?"

  "Would you stop making light of this? I needed time to think, and I had plenty since I couldn't move. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're kind and caring, and more than that, you've always believed in me. I should have heard you out. I'm sorry I was so cold to you. You didn't deserve that."

  She snuggled next to him. "I knew it was a risk telling you. But it was more important that I was honest with you."

  He wrapped his arm around her. "I don't care what you are. My life is whole only when you're in it."

  "Well, I am a vampire, but I'm still the same person you fell in love with. Nothing has to change."

  "You're not mad at me for being so rude?"

  "It's not like you tried to have me killed. I've seen a lot worse."

  He yawned. "Well, I still feel horrible."

  She kissed his nose. "I forgive you. Can we just move on? We have a wedding to plan…I hope."

  "Of course. If you'll still have me."

  "If I'll still have you? What kind of a question is that?"

  "A valid one." He shivered.

  She pulled the blankets over them. "Do you want me to get you some clothes?"

  He shook his head. "I'm happy like this. Besides, you can warm me up."

  Clara frowned. "I don't know if you ever noticed, but that's not something I'm good at."

  "I did notice that you're always cold. It's not uncomfortable for you?"

  "Nope."

  He shifted his body weight, and let out a small cry. "My knee. I've never felt pain like this before."

  She looked him in the eyes. "I can heal you if you want."

  "You mean by turning me into a vampire?"

  "No. I can just heal you, but you might not like how."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you drink my blood, you'll be completely healed."

  His eyes widened. "I…I don't know. That sounds, well, I mean…thanks for the offer. I'll just see how I heal on my own."

  "Your knee looks pretty swollen. I hope it's not infected because the hospital won't even look at you."

  "I'll think about it. Okay? I'm willing to accept that you're possibly a vampire, but I'm not ready to test drive the lifestyle myself."

  She nodded. "I just want to help." Clara leaned against him, and they didn't say anything for a while. She listened to the sounds of his heartbeat and his breathing, just glad to be in his arms again. She would take that as long as she could.

  His breathing became deeper, and she turned to see him asleep. She closed her own eyes, knowing sleep wouldn't come. But she had all that she wanted, so there was nothing she was going let worry her. The world outside was falling apart, but at least she still had William's love.

  A noise outside caught her attention. Clara sat up and went to the window. Out on the street, she saw Nichole and her mom walking straight for William's house. They were bold, weren't they?

  She tucked the blankets around him, went into the hall, and closed his door. She grabbed the blanket and made her way to the front door before the doorbell rang. "I've got it," she called to Sally, who sounded busy in the kitchen.

  Clara slid the chain into place and opened the door about an inch, as far as the chain would allow. "What do you want?"

  "How dare you break into our house?" Nichole yelled.

  "You didn't leave me much of a choice when you held an injured man against his will."

  "You're going to hear from our attorneys."

  "Okay. And you'll hear from William's. His dad has an entire firm of them, including himself."

  "Did you send leather pants as a distraction?"

  "You guys need to leave. This isn't your property, and you're not welcome here."

  "Since you have something of ours, we're not going anywhere."

  "I hope you're not referring to William."

  "My blanket." Nichole narrowed her eyes. "My Grams made that."

  Clara slid the chain out from its spot and opened the door, throwing the blanket at them. "Take your blanket and stay away from William. He has no interest in you."

  Her mom glared at Clara. "You can expect to hear from the cops. We're pressing charges. I don't take breaking and entering lightly. You did leave with our blanket, so now we have you for theft too."

  "I just gave
it back!"

  "Doesn't matter. You took it after breaking into our home."

  "Show me exactly where I broke in. I'd like to see that. Nothing was damaged, and you have your stupid blanket back."

  "You came in through the side door."

  Clara shook her head. "I left through that door. Even the cops would tell you that it was opened from the inside."

  Nichole's entire face wrinkled up. "How did you get in?"

  "You guys think you're so smart, so go back home and try to figure it out."

  "We will." Nichole's nose flared. She looked like she was about to lose control and lash out. "And then you'll be facing jail time."

  Clara smirked. "Maybe we'll be cellmates. Actually, no, we won't. You'd be in a different part of the prison because kidnapping is a worse crime than what I did. They'll have sympathy on me for helping to rescue someone being held against his will. In fact, this could get really interesting. Go ahead and press charges—send the cops after me. I want to see how all this plays out."

  Nichole's mom looked at her. "Let's go, Nichole. We need to get back home."

  "See ya." Clara waved. Hopefully that would be the last they would hear from them.

  Chapter 31

  WILLIAM WOKE UP to searing pain in his knee and sharp pains in his gut. He sat up, feeling dizzy. His stomach lurched, and he closed his mouth as tight as possible. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep him from vomiting.

  Where was Clara? The door was closed, so maybe she was just letting him rest. He couldn't recall falling asleep, but he did remember her rescuing him.

  The way she had thrown him over her shoulder and ran through the neighborhood had been unreal. His stomach lurched again, this time, he gagged, barely keeping anything down. His throat burned and the taste of bile reached his mouth. He needed to get to the bathroom before he made a mess.

  He slid his good leg onto the floor. He took a deep breath before putting the sore one down. His knee was burning, and it felt much worse than just a sprain. Something was wrong. Maybe Clara was right and it was infected. He rubbed it, and pulled his hand away. It was hot to the touch, and the pain was a lot worse than it had been.

  Sirens could be heard outside, but William barely noticed. He stood up, but stumbled as soon as he did. That knee wasn't going to hold any weight. His stomach jumped around again and he gagged again, this time getting throw up into his mouth. As gross as it was, he had no other choice except to swallow it.

  The bathroom was too far away, in fact, it may as well have been in the next town. He looked around his room for anything that would suffice as a crutch. The only thing even close was a baseball bat. That wouldn't work. He would just have to lean on what he could along the way.

  He made his way to the door, barely. His knee hurt worse with every movement and his stomach was more and more determined to relieve him of its contents.

  William turned the knob and somehow managed to hit his knee on the door. The pain shot through his entire body and little white stars blurred his vision. He lost his balance, but grabbed onto the door before falling. He gripped it with as much energy as he could muster, and stood up.

  Once the stars disappeared, he grabbed onto the wall, making his way into the hall. He looked a few doors down, where the bathroom was. It felt as though it were miles, not feet, away.

  What was that? It felt like gravity shifted. He rubbed his temples. He should have let Clara heal him earlier when she offered. If he had known that he was going to feel this horrible, he would have agreed. Drinking blood to avoid this situation would have been a lot better.

  He felt like he was lying on the wall. His stomach lurched again, and this time, he couldn't keep anything in his stomach. Vomit got all over the wall, the carpet, and himself.

  Clara ran down the hall, looking concerned. "Oh, William." The pity on her face felt like a punch to his already injured gut. "Let me help you into the bathroom."

  He shook his head. "I don't want you to get anything on," his stomach twisted again, "you. Just let me crawl the wall to the bathroom."

  She looked confused. "I can get cleaned up if I need to. You need help."

  "No." He knew he was stupid to be so prideful, but he couldn't stand having her see him like that.

  "You need my help, and I want to help." She picked him up, further hurting his pride, and carried him to the bathroom. She lifted the toilet lid and seat for him, and then set him on the ground. "Oh!"

  "What?" he moaned.

  "Your knee. Have you looked at it? It's two and a half times as big as the other one. It looks like it has a greenish tint. We need to do something."

  His stomach jumped up again. "Turn away."

  "What?"

  "Please."

  She gave him another pitiful look and walked out of the bathroom, just in time for him to hurl into the toilet. It felt like he was going to vomit and never stop. His stomach kept having spasms, each time, sending more vile liquid into the toilet. What was wrong with him? Could it be from his knee?

  The coffee Nichole had given him had tasted strange. She said it was some kind of herb to help him relax.

  He threw up again, hoping that Clara was out of earshot, but knowing that she cared too much about him, and was likely hearing every disgusting sound. How would he ever look her in the eyes again?

  The room spun around him. He held onto the toilet bowl to keep from falling, but as it continued to spin faster and faster, he couldn't hold on any more. He let go, and watched as the tiled floor came closer and closer, until he heard a thud and everything went black.

  William rolled over, rubbing the new sore spot on his head. He opened his eyes and saw that he was back in his bed. Had Clara carried him yet again? How would she ever respect him after all this? He couldn't even take care of himself, and his fiancée had to carry him around.

  He sighed.

  "Are you awake?" Clara showed up in his line of sight. "How do you feel now? Any better?" Her eyes were filled with concern. The pity appeared to be gone at least.

  "I don't know. I need to clean up my mess. The cleaning lady is on vacation."

  She put a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. "I already cleaned everything up. How is your stomach?"

  It felt awful. He was certain he wasn't done throwing up yet. "It's better."

  Clara smiled, but the look in her eyes showed that she didn't believe him. Again, it was better than feeling sorry for him. "Do you want something to eat?"

  "Not yet." He shook his head, and then regretted it. The room felt as though it was spinning around him. He clutched his pillow.

  "Do you need the toilet?" Clara didn't wait for a response before she scooped him up and ran to the bathroom. Even though it only felt like a couple of seconds, his stomach lurched from the movement.

  She set him down in front of the toilet, opened the lid, and closed to door. She knew he wanted privacy. She really was the best person for him. He started to smile, but then his stomach heaved. He put his head over the water, waiting for the contents to come out, but as much as his stomach twisted and heaved, nothing would come. There was probably nothing left after all his barfing earlier.

  William leaned his head against the toilet, dry heaving over his lap. When would this stop?

  Pains lower in his abdomen struck. Not this. Not now. At least he wasn't throwing up anymore, even though his stomach hadn't stopped trying. He dropped his boxers and got onto the toilet just in time for a round of diarrhea. He put his elbows on his lap, resting his now-sweating face onto his hands.

  He lost track of how much time passed before a wave of relief swept over him. He stood up, careful to put his weight on the good leg, and made his way over to the sink. It felt a lot further than it ever had before, between his knee and the dizziness. After washing his hands, he went to the door, and just as he touched the knob, a new wave of nausea hit.

  The dry heaves started before he could get himself back to the toilet. He spent what felt like an eternity in the bat
hroom, before his stomach and bowels finally calmed down. He cleaned up again and opened the door, looking down the hall. He didn't see Clara, but had a feeling she wasn't far away.

  "Hello?" He cringed at the sound of his voice. It was weak, dry, and raspy.

  She appeared out of nowhere, startling him. "Are you okay?"

  He sighed and shook his head, not wanting to hear himself speak again.

  "I'm going to carry you back to bed. You look horribly pale." She scooped him up before he could respond.

  The next thing he knew, he was back on his bed. Clara was looking at his knee. She pushed on his swollen skin, and he watched, waiting for the indent to rise, but it didn't. "This really isn't good." She looked back up at him.

  William shook his head again.

  How is your stomach?"

  "Awful. I've never felt anything like this before."

  "Just as I thought. Have you been around anyone who's been sick lately?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Besides that coffee, did you eat anything over at Nichole's?"

  Still feeling dizzy, he thought about it. "I'm not sure."

  "Don't freak out, but I think you've been poisoned."

  He gave her a double take.

  "She was sent away to a mental hospital after poisoning an ex-boyfriend. If she can't have someone she likes, she doesn't want anyone to have him."

  William rubbed his head. "I believe it. What are we going to do?"

  "We can either chance it at the hospital or I can give you some of my healing blood. Then you could stay here in your bed, and not only that, you would heal a lot faster."

  Another wave of nausea washed over him. Stars danced before his eyes. He nodded.

  "You want to drink my blood?" Clara looked both surprised and relieved.

  "Yeah." He grasped his stomach.

  She brought her wrist up to her mouth and as she opened it, he saw fangs that had never been there before. He gasped, momentarily forgetting about the nausea. She ripped into her skin, and when she pulled her arm away, he could see blood dripping from the wound.

  He was supposed to drink that? Somehow, his stomach calmed down a little as he watched her bring her wrist toward him. It felt like it was happening in slow motion.