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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “I take it from this awkward silence that you two have something to tell me,” Michael said after a while.

  Gabriel chewed and swallowed his snack, nodding. I glanced at him. He tilted his head towards his brother, wordlessly giving me the go-ahead.

  “I think that Gabriel should accompany me to the Demons’ Door.”

  Michael’s green eyes narrowed. “What?”

  I held up my hands in supplication. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. It’s for a good reason.”

  “What reason is that? Do you know what you’re asking me? You’re asking me to stay here while you go into what is essentially the entrance to Hell led by a demon who has tried to murder and rape you on multiple occasions. Is that about the size of it?”

  I paused. “Well, yes. But it sounds really negative when you say it that way.”

  He pushed away from the counter, balling his hands into fists. “Is this a joke to you, Jordan? Because I’m having a hard time finding the humor in it.”

  “Of course not—”

  “Great, because there is no way in hell I’m letting you do this. Belial won’t show restraint once you make it to the Door. What then?”

  “Michael—”

  “What if it’s a trap? What if he’s got another scheme going and you walk right into it?”

  “Michael,” Gabriel spoke up, turning his icy eyes on his brother.

  “At the risk of sounding rude…shut up.”

  Michael went silent. I had to physically stop myself from gaping at Gabriel. I’d never heard him say a cross word to anyone other than demons. It was unnerving.

  “Jordan is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. If I remember correctly, she has saved your life on three separate occasions, and mine on one. Furthermore, I know that you are the Commander of Heaven’s Army but I have been alive for as many millennia as you and I am perfectly capable of protecting her from harm. Therefore, your concern is appreciated and duly noted, but this is the way it needs to be.”

  “Why?”

  Gabriel sighed. “You know why, brother. Belial will undoubtedly make sexual remarks about Jordan and you will lose your temper. He is not even in the room and you’re already furious. We can’t get their cooperation if you start a fight. I am more qualified for this mission because I won’t get angry on her account.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and he flashed me a small smile. “No offense, my dear, but I’m not in love with you.”

  “None taken.”

  “So what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

  “We’ll contact you as soon as we know the identity of the murderer. If possible, we’ll send you a photo and you can contact the angels in the police department to get an APB on him.”

  Michael’s jaw shifted as he swallowed another argument. “Fine.”

  He stalked off to the bedroom. I let out a long breath. “That went well.”

  “Indeed. Thank you for calling me. I get the feeling you couldn’t have convinced him on your own, at least not in ways I will permit myself to think about.”

  I bit my lip to stop a smile. “Why, Gabriel, are you uncomfortable thinking about me seducing your brother?”

  The archangel coughed in mid-swallow of a Triscuit and turned an interesting shade of pink. I giggled, unable to help myself.

  He regained composure and then sent me a frosty glare. “That was unnecessary.”

  “I know, but it was still funny.”

  I stood, dropping some of the humor in my tone. “So I’m guessing the Demons’ Door is in a nicely ironic location. New Jersey? Baghdad? The Vatican?”

  “Nice guesses, but no, none of the above.”

  He stood. I stared at his neutral expression. “You’re just gonna leave me in the dark, aren’t you?”

  He kissed my forehead. “Consider it payback for the seduction comment. I’ll come to collect you in three days, early morning. Michael will know what to pack for the journey. Be good to him. I know this won’t be easy.”

  “Life seldom is. See you, Gabe.” He waved and left the apartment. I took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom.

  Michael had already pulled out my suitcase and was currently filling it with my underwear. He didn’t look at me when I walked in.

  I leaned against the doorjamb, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. “That bra doesn’t go with those panties.”

  “Ha-ha-freaking-ha,” he grumbled, yanking open another drawer to find socks.

  I closed the bedroom door and continued drying my hair. “I’m liking the fold-and-pack service. It’s very Alfred.”

  “Jordan, this is not a good time.”

  “Seriously, if you can just slip into that maid costume in the back of my closet, that would be the cherry on top.”

  He slammed the drawer shut, turning around. “Why is everything a joke to you?”

  “Why isn’t everything a joke to you?” I countered. “You’ve spent enough time on Earth to know that not everything is life or death. It might as well just be funny.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t have your Chandler-Bing-like tendencies. I can’t joke about you walking into the lion’s den with a T-bone around your neck.”

  “Michael, you knew this would happen eventually. We can’t be on every single mission together. You need to have more faith in me.”

  “Maybe I would if I didn’t know you were having fantasies about Belial when I’m not here.”

  I stopped breathing for a handful of seconds. “You knew about that?”

  He snorted, seeming insulted. “Of course I did. It was in your voice when you told me. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Did you also know how bad it shook me up? I wasn’t consenting in those dreams. I didn’t enjoy them.”

  “How do I know that, Jordan? I wasn’t there. I don’t know how he’s been twisting your mind. That’s what he’s good at—changing your thoughts so that things appear the way he wants them to.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he wants me to see. I know what’s there. The man who did this—” I jerked aside the hem of my shirt to show the scar.

  “—is the same man no matter what dreams he manipulates. Why can’t you believe that?”

  “Because I’ve been around too long. You heard what he did to Uriel’s lover. Who’s to say he won’t try to do the same thing to you?”

  “Me.”

  He fell silent, staring at me. For the first time in the entire argument, I could tell he really heard what I’d said.

  Michael took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He sat next to me on the bed, lowering his voice. “I trust you, Jor. More than anyone else on this Earth. But that doesn’t mean I’m strong enough not to get jealous or worried. I’m not perfect.”

  “No one ever said you had to be,” I whispered, wrapping my hand around his.

  “We’ll get a face and a name and we’ll hunt this son of a bitch down and save the world because that’s what we do. Then I’ll come home and bake cookies and make out with you on the couch.”

  He finally smiled. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “I’m just a girl who can’t say no.”

  He chuckled, leaning in to kiss me. “Got that right.”

  I pinched his thigh. “Ow!”

  “I resent that.”

  “You resemble that.”

  “Shut up and finish packing my underwear, Alfred.”

  Michael

  * * *

  THE SCROLLING WHITE text on my laptop mocked me with the same line every thirty seconds: You should be writing. I stared at it with the utmost loathing. My ratty green notebook lay beside it at the kitchen table and exacerbated my irritable mood. There were songs that needed to be written and lyrics to be edited, but I couldn’t focus. Every so often, I glanced at the clock on the microwave to check the time. Jordan wouldn’t land for another hour.

  “You are so whipped,” I groaned, dragging my fingers down my face. My five o’clock shadow was starting to peek th
rough and I hadn’t showered yet. I’d spent most of the day on the couch watching Emeril Lagasse and trying not to think about the murdered Seers. Truly pathetic. It seemed like my life before domestic bliss had been a dream—a thick fog that clung to the edges of my mind. Time didn’t exactly exist in Heaven, so it was all the more startling when I realized I hadn’t been there for nearly two years. The angelic part of my soul mourned the loss of its home, but the man didn’t really miss it. Mankind thrived on conflict. Naturally, Heaven was fresh out of that.

  I spun the silver wedding band on my finger, feeling the smoothness of the metal soothe my nerves somewhat. The rings were Gabriel’s idea. He suggested that I smelt part of my holy armor to make them. Symbolic gesture. It reminded me of my duty as Commander but also of my duty as a husband. Too bad I wasn’t fulfilling those duties at the moment.

  At the very least, I didn’t have to worry about Jordan and Gabriel when they were together. He’d known her long before I did and watching them interact always amused me. She brought out a sly part of his personality that I hadn’t seen much of in the recent centuries. Gabriel was the Messenger for a reason. He was always kind, calm, and collected—never lost his temper, never sinned, never failed to complete a mission. I’d always admired that about him.

  The home telephone—Jordan’s idea, in case our shenanigans caused us to lose one of our cell phones—blasted through my thoughts. I fumbled for it, answering in a breathless voice, “Amador residence?”

  “I’m looking for Jordan Amador.”

  An unknown male voice. I suppressed a sigh. “She’s out. Who’s calling?”

  “This is the Albany Police Department. A man claiming to be her father has been arrested on gambling charges. He said she’d be willing to post bail.”

  I froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Lewis Jackson has asked that you post his bail. He used his phone call to contact Mrs. Amador, but there was no answer. Are you going to post bail?”

  The words, “Hell no” were climbing up my throat and bouncing off the back of my teeth, but I swallowed them. Did he deserve to rot in prison? Yes. Definitely. Was it my right to make that decision? Maybe. Probably.

  In the end, I rubbed my forehead and decided to be merciful. “Yes, sir.”

  “Alright. Have a good day, sir.”

  “You too, officer.”

  I slammed the phone down on the receiver. Son of a bitch. I’d never seen one man cause so much trouble in such a short amount of time. Righteous fury filled my lungs and I could already hear a speech constructing itself in the back of my mind, but I knew it was just on Jordan’s behalf. He hadn’t wronged me. He’d wronged her. Getting angry wouldn’t solve anything.

  Time for a field trip.

  * * *

  BEFORE HE SAW me around the corner, Lewis Jackson looked nervous and twitchy, as if he’d spent most of his night looking over his shoulder. He probably hadn’t slept. They had only put him in holding, not lockdown. I suspected he hadn’t been in prison for extended periods of time if he was this shaken up by the common crooks in an Albany PD. Maybe I could drag him into a federal pen someday, show him the real monsters, ones that the demons looked up to. Really give him something to twitch about.

  His face hardened to stone when he spotted me standing near the counter, having just finished signing the last of the papers. I’d shaved, slicked my hair back, and thrown on a suit jacket, button-up shirt, and jeans. I looked clean and wealthy, and he knew it.

  He sneered at me. “What you doin’ here?”

  I tucked the pen in the pocket of my suit jacket, keeping my voice neutral. “Bailing you out, apparently.”

  “Don’t need no handouts, boy. I can take care of myself,” Lewis said.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

  He sucked his teeth at me and started walking towards the door. I fell in step beside him, slipping both hands in my pockets to appear casual.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  “Why’s that any concern of yours?”

  He shoved the double doors to the police department open and walked out before giving me a filthy look. “I’m her father, ain’t I? I got a right to know why she didn’t come down here to get me out.”

  “Why should she? Blood is nothing but blood. It dries up under the sun just like anything else. You’ve done nothing for her so why do you expect something in return?”

  “See, that’s something you white boys don’t understand. We take care of our folks where I come from.”

  I let a dry chuckle spill out of my mouth. He stared at me, surprised through the mask of anger. “Y’know, I’ve met a lot of men like you in my time.”

  “Is that so?” he asked with a derisive snort.

  “Yeah. We call you Soul Men. You’re straight outta the ‘70’s, slicked back pimp-walking old-fashioned guys. Don’t tolerate back talk, expect everyone to respect you because of your age and skin color. You think just because I’m white that I’m given everything on a silver platter. While that may be true for some men, it’s not for me.”

  I stepped forward, meeting his dark eyes. “I work for a living. So I know the difference between a man who’s down on his luck looking to reconnect with a daughter he wronged and a lowlife punk who wants the easy way out tugging on his long-lost daughter’s heart strings.”

  “You better watch your damn mouth, boy,” Lewis growled.

  “Or what?” I shot back. “You’ll kick my ass? Give the cops another excuse to throw you back in the hole? Believe me, it’s a tempting idea, but I’m trying to make a point here. I bailed you out because I love my wife and even though she’s hurt and angry, I think she’d want me to do this for her. I may be wrong. Don’t know. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you shit all over her life and leave me to clean up the mess. If you really want Jordan’s forgiveness, I won’t stand in your way. But if you’re just here for you, you can kindly take your ass back to Detroit on the first thing smoking.”

  He said nothing, seeming to stew in his own anger, but I could see in his eyes that he had heard me. The racism bullshit evaporated and we were left two men glaring holes in each other’s souls.

  I straightened my jacket and nodded to him. “Be seeing you, Mr. Jackson.”

  With that, I walked down the steps and disappeared into the crowd.

  Chapter 7

  Jordan

  “RUSH LIMBAUGH?”

  “No.”

  “Julia Roberts?”

  “Of course not, why would you even ask that?”

  “Her face is creepy. Charles Manson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lee Harvey Oswald?”

  “Surprisingly, no.”

  “Phil Specter?”

  “No.”

  “Dr. Phil?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  I gaped. “I was just kidding that time. Really?”

  Gabriel nodded, pausing to sip his ginger ale. The flight attendant had poured it into a wine glass just because it looked nicer than the little plastic cups the people on commercial flights would normally get. How delightfully pointless. Then again, private jets were known for their luxury.

  “Really. His good intentions are enough to throw you off his scent. All the dirt he does is behind the scenes. Little things. Mainly psychological manipulation.”

  I shook my head. “I always knew there was something demonic about that guy. Never could put my finger on it. Someone should have warned Oprah.”

  The archangel smiled. “I suppose all the ‘good’ he’s done cancels things out. We keep a close eye on him anyway. Anyone else?”

  “No, I’ve had my fun for now.” I stretched my back, glancing out the window at the blue horizon drifting past us. Up here, it looked like we were crawling across the globe as slow and steady as a turtle when in actuality we were burning through miles like a flame climbing up a match. My first plane ride, and it was on a private jet. How lucky was that?

  “I still can’t be
lieve the Demons’ Door is in Canada. I was right about the ironic location thing,” I said, crunching on a pretzel. The jet had much nicer things to eat—the attendant even offered me steak—but I was told regular passengers got a soda and pretzels and I wanted my first plane ride to be authentic.

  “Canadians aren’t as innocent as you think,” Gabriel said with a secretive look in his eyes. He loved to tease me with tidbits of information about the nature of the world. I wasn’t allowed to ask many questions about Heaven or Hell, but things on Earth were pretty much up for grabs. No one knew more dirt than Gabriel when it came to angels and demons.

  “Besides, it turned out to be convenient once the United States was founded. The younger demons are very attached to America because it’s rather easy to make a living corrupting people here. The older demons favor developing countries. It’s easier to get followers there.”

  “Makes sense.” I exhaled, letting the humor slide out of me. “What should I expect when we get down there?”

  “Well, Belial will be up to his usual tricks—mainly, trying to get a rise out of you—but the Door itself is different. I only know of it. No angel, save our rogue, has ever visited it. I must advise you to be on your guard because this meeting is most likely some sort of trap.”

  “Do you know about any plans in the works?”

  The archangel shook his head and then brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. He usually kept it short and neat, but he was overdue for a haircut so his bangs dipped down over his eyebrows.

  “Nothing yet. It is possible that the demons are working with the rogue angel in secret and that they want us to do something for them, but I’ve heard nothing to confirm that yet. I’m hoping this trip will enlighten us.”

  “Enlighten.” I snorted. “That’s a pretty word for it. The last time we met with the demons in person, it was a war. Should we be expecting the same thing?”

  “So far, I haven’t heard of any holy items surfacing, but being prepared for war isn’t a bad idea. We’re already in one anyway—it’s just more subtle. The stakes are still the same.”