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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Chapter 3

  NED OPENED HIS mouth to speak, but stopped. Milan returned to his work in the dirt on the ground. He refused to leave the grave site in such disarray. Paulina was worth so much more than she'd ever been given. To discover that someone dared disrespect her and committed a disgusting act, angered him beyond words.

  "I'll be on my way." Mitch said, signaling for his crew members to help Milan.

  They stood wide-eyed, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Tuck stepped forward and offered his assistance. Milan was ambivalent about his presence. He couldn't focus on anything other than making this right, making something right before he moved on.

  Sheriff Acker mumbled his goodbyes and walked back to his car. As much as he didn't like Milan or trust that Milan wasn't involved, he did feel badly that some kid or someone with an ax to grind would deface the gravestone.

  He'd liked Paulina. As far as he knew, everyone in town thought fondly of her. He couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would want to do this and he had no explanation for how the photo ended up back at Merced Manor.

  When Milan was satisfied that the grave looked presentable, he wiped the sweat off his face, using his shirt tails and walked away, nodding at Tuck. He'd known Tuck for a long time and couldn't say that he ever really liked him, but he did tolerate him, up until a few months before the worst day of his life.

  There were some things he could never bring himself to forget and Tuck happened to fall into that category. He wasn't remembered fondly, but was remembered better than he'd ever realize.

  Milan wondered whether or not Tuck still lived across the street from the manor. There were a number of things he hadn't taken into consideration when he was summoned back to River's Bend, Tuck being one of those things. He just hoped, whatever the case, that this would be the only interaction with him that he'd have - at least, until he could prove that his long-held suspicions about Tuck were true, but he didn't have time for that right now. He'd only just arrived and already had so much to contend with and had the feeling that there would be far more phenomena the longer he stayed.

  He could feel all eyes on him as he made his way back to the rental car. It didn't matter. He'd had plenty of opportunity to get used to prying eyes and curious onlookers immediately after Paulina's death.

  As was often the case, when a spouse died, the widow or widower became suspect number one. That was to be expected. What wasn't expected was that there never seemed to be a suspect number two. Although, Paulina's death was never formally ruled anything other than 'unknown causes', there wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that the circumstances surrounding her death were suspect at best.

  The short drive from the cemetery to his intended destination at Calvin Monument Engraving was a sad reminder of the first time he ever had to acquire their services. Filled with so much grief and anger, Milan's behavior led to the sheriff deputies being called in to calm the situation.

  He sat in the car a few moments to gather his nerve. The place still looked very much the same. It still occupied the same corner of Highway 71 and Railroad Avenue, still overlooking the quaint downtown. Unassuming, other than the marquee that bore its name, most probably drove past it a handful of times a day and never gave it a second thought. Milan wished he was still a member of that group of people, but he wasn't and he never would be again.

  This, along with so many other places that held both happy and sad memories, prompted him to want to leave and never look back. The pressure had grown to be too much. Living his life under constant suspicion of something he'd never consider doing, let alone actually do to the woman who brought him so much joy, would be unbearable to stand for any sustained amount of time. He had to go. He had to reinvent himself or he knew his life would be over.

  Mrs. Calvin's jaw dropped when she saw him walk in the door. "Milan, wow, I didn't expect to see you anytime soon. How are you?"

  Milan cut to the chase and told her what he was doing in her office after all these years. Her once smooth skin was now showing signs of aging. He always liked Mrs. Calvin. She and her family had attended many of his mother's events over the years.

  "I'm so sorry to hear that. Kids are bolder these days. You know, just last week someone spray painted something on my garage. I just don't understand. Remember when you used to be able to leave your doors open and not have to worry that some stranger was going to come walking in and make himself comfortable?" She shook her head, her silver curls never moving.

  "Thank you for that. Yeah, times have changed, but for the most part, good old River's Bend looked pretty much as I remembered it. How have you been, Mrs. Calvin?" He thought it better to remain cordial. He didn't need any more trouble.

  "Getting older. You know, bad back, bad knee, bad attitude most of the time. How have you been?" Milan's breath caught. He wished he could tell her that he'd been miserable, a shell of a man, since he'd lost Paulina. That was the truth, but he figured, like most people who made small talk, she didn't want to know the truth. She wanted to hear good news.

  "I'm good. Thanks. So, do you have a catalog handy so I can get a new stone ordered?" Milan tried to redirect the conversation.

  "Sure do. Do you have any idea how it happened?" She asked as she handed him the photo album that served as the company portfolio.

  "I wish I did, but I don't." Milan answered.

  As he perused his options, the stone mason, Merv Calvin, walked in from the back warehouse. "Hey, so the rumors are true. The Merced boy is back."

  Milan shook his hand, explaining what he needed.

  Merv answered, "Some people just don't know how to leave well enough alone, I guess. I thought after the Johnson's kid... Tuck's oldest... Well, I thought, he learned his lesson. Acker read him the riot act for being on your property. That kid will never learn. I told Tuck to keep an eye on that one. Anyway, come back to the warehouse with me. I think I have something that you'll like back there."

  Milan was surprised to hear about an incident at his house. He wondered why no one had mentioned it to him, especially Sheriff Acker.

  "What is this about Tuck's boy? I guess, someone forgot to mention it to me." Milan, intended to confront Ned about it once he got back to his house.

  "That kid," Merv shook his head. "That kid is always up to no good. Ever since his mother left, he's been acting out. You remember his mother, don't you?"

  Milan nodded. He remembered just about everyone. In a town that only had one high school, one middle school, and two grade schools, it was pretty difficult to not know just about every person in town. The moment a stranger stepped foot in town, everyone was talking. It was like a disease - small town disease. People knew everything or at least thought they did. What they didn't know, they just simply made up and that version of the 'truth' became gospel.

  "What do you think of this?" Merv pointed to a beautiful stone made of slate. Milan found it to be both exquisite and unusual. He knew that Paulina would approve and readily agreed that this would be her new headstone.

  After arrangements were made, Milan thanked the couple and turned to walk out the door, but curiosity over the statement about the Johnson boy, wouldn't let him walk out without asking for more information. He hated to admit that he'd not been informed about the incident at his home, but he knew how people in town felt about him, it didn't surprise him either.

  The look on Milan's face as he tried to find the right words to ask the question, told Mrs. Calvin that the information was new to him. Despite her own feelings about what most people believed to occur in that home the night Paulina died, she still felt sorry for Milan. She'd practically known him his whole life and knew his parents and grandparents as well. What had been said about him since his wife's death troubled her deeply. That wasn't the man she knew.

  "Would you like to sit down for a few and talk about it?" She offered, nudging her ready to protest husband.

  "Yes. Thank you." Milan breathed a sigh of relief. This was the fir
st true act of kindness he'd witnessed today.

  "First, you'll have to stop calling me Mrs. Calvin." She teased. "You're making me feel old."

  Milan grinned.

  "The name is Kathy Jo. Did you ever know that, Milan?" She looked at him curiously.

  He shook his head, trying to think back to when he was growing up, answering, "No, I don't think I did. As far back as I can remember, I always called you Mrs. Calvin, didn't I?"

  "You did and everyone else in town did, even your mama when she was a little bitty girl. She would run around with her pigtails bouncing, yelling, 'Hi, Mrs. Calvin' from way down the street if she saw me. While I appreciated the formalities, I always wondered why no one, not even the adults called me by my given name." She patted his hand.

  "The Merceds are a formal bunch." Milan knew all too well how prim and proper his family always remained. Nothing ever stirred them enough to cause a scene. They handled things with dignity and kept their heads held high. He didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. He understood why they did what they did. It must have been difficult for them as a Spanish family to move to a place where there weren't a lot of people like them.

  They were affluent and rich in culture and steeped in tradition, much like the people of River's Bend, except they always understood that no matter how much they had in common with most folks, they were different enough for people to watch their every move, in hopes of catching them fail.

  Growing up like that, Milan learned many lessons. He was to remain on the straight and narrow and never falter. They had a reputation to uphold. They were not to be seen as anything less than kind, proper, law-abiding citizens that did and said all the right things, all the time.

  "Yes, your family was, but that's part of why everyone loved them so much." Kathy Jo said. "Now, tell me, how have you really been?"

  Milan cast his eyes down. He'd spent the last several hours trying to keep his emotions in check, but something about the tenderness in the way Kathy Jo spoke to him, touched him. It was like the deep well of sadness that calcified his already broken heart was begging to be set free and spill onto the world around him, but in his mind, he wasn't ready and he wasn't entirely sure he would ever be ready for the flood of anguish that was sure to follow. He wouldn't allow himself to break. Not here. Not in the town that took so much from him. He wouldn't let that happen. He swore that the day he packed his bags and left.

  "I'm getting better." He answered finally, hoping she wouldn't search for more. He was sure that if she looked hard enough, she would see the shattered man he felt he was.

  She studied his face for a moment, noting the harsh jaw and the tired eyes. "Okay. Well, that's good. Take it one day at a time."

  Merv stood at the counter watching and listening to their conversation. He cleared his throat, reminding Kathy Jo to get to her point and tell Milan about Tuck's son. She looked at him sideways, then, turned back to Milan.

  "Tuck's boy," she began, shaking her head, "he's not a horrible kid. He needs a mother. He needs someone to make him settle down and do what he should be doing. I'm sure what he did out on your property didn't have nothing to do with nothing. He was probably just bored, but my understanding is that he was out in the tunnel quite a few times. The sheriff finally caught him after his own grandmother complained that she could hear voices from down in there and, you know, Acker. He ain't ever been brave enough to do anything by himself, so he called in every volunteer firefighter and reserve officer in Brimmer County and had them come down."

  Milan cleared his throat. His experiences in and around that tunnel had never been pleasant. For as long as he could remember, he'd wished his family would get rid of it for good. Everything about that place bothered him. It was no surprise that kids would be out there. They always had been. He couldn't count the number of times his father and grandfather would chase people away from the tunnel.

  Kathy Jo continued. "Anyway, when all those big, burly men got down there, they were scared out of their minds. None of them, I mean, none of them, wanted to go in there and see what was going on. The way I heard it, it took some young kid to finally go in there and see who was in there and the kid came out running for his life."

  Milan leaned forward in his seat, his heart thumping loudly. He'd always feared something evil lived in that tunnel.

  "What was it?" His mouth went dry.

  She shrugged. "Never did say exactly, but a few minutes later Tuck's boy and another boy came running out of there like they seen the devil himself. The sheriff and his band of loons scattered all over your property, they were so scared."

  "So, what happened to Tuck's kid and the other boy?" Milan asked.

  "Acker read them the riot act and made them swear they'd never go anywhere near your property again. He made some imaginary line in the middle of the street and told them they couldn't cross it and, if they did, he would find a way to lock them in the tunnel with all the other bad omens." Kathy Jo explained.

  "Bad omens?" Milan had never been able to find the right word for what he felt existed on his property, but that was it. He'd spent his life surrounded by bad omens. He exhaled. "Who was the other boy?"

  "You know, I don't think anyone ever told me his name." She looked over at her husband. He shrugged. "You might want to check with Ned. Every time I've heard the story told, no one has ever mentioned the other boy. He might not have been from around here because someone surely would have mentioned his name sometime or another, don't you think?"

  Milan nodded, saying, "Yeah, you're probably right. Did anyone ever find out what they were doing down there or what that other boy saw them doing? Why did he run out?"

  Kathy Jo looked to her husband. Merv shook his head, trying to remember. He answered, "I don't think we know exactly. There were rumors, you know, but no one ever really confirmed what those boys were up to and, I'm sure, Ned and his crew were probably too scared to go in and find out. You might want to get in there and see what they did."

  Milan shook his head. "No, I don't go in there. I can't."

  Kathy Jo glared at her husband, patting Milan's hand. "I'm sorry. His brain is older than his body. I understand, but now that you're back, maybe, you can finally do something with the property and make it look like your grandparents always had it. Wouldn't that be nice?"

  "Yes. It would be nice." Milan shivered. He couldn't wait to be rid of it for good. Getting it back to the way his family had always kept it, would take a lot of time and quite a bit of money. He wasn't sure that he was willing to sacrifice either one of those for something he'd readily give away if someone would take it from him.

  "Well," Milan began, "I should be going. Thank you for your help. Please, do let me know when the stone is ready. Bye, now."

  He tried to hold it in until he drove off. Milan didn't want anyone to see him fall apart. He couldn't let that happen. Three long, slow inhalations and exhalations managed to keep the tears and sorrow at bay for the moment. He dreaded what would happen once he was finally alone in the house, out of sight of curious onlookers and nosy neighbors. He could almost guarantee that the sight would not be pleasant and that the last thread of his resolve would finally give. He didn't look forward to that explosion of anger and outrage over what had been done.

  "Keep it together. Don't let them break you." Milan warned himself out loud. "Do what has to be done and move on. Just keep moving forward."

  As he drove through downtown, he pretended not to notice the heads turn as he passed them. He'd just added fuel to the fire of the rumors of him being back. His nightmare was not over.

  Chapter 4

  A SENSE OF dread shrouded him as he rounded the corner, heading toward the manor. The sight of it sent chills through his spine. The scene was oddly reminiscent of that final, fateful night. Sheriff Acker stood just outside the gate, hands on hips, looking up at the house.

  Milan thought back to five years earlier when the sheriff stood in front of the house in much the same way, staring up at
the old girl, willing it to speak its truths. At that time, every passerby did the same. The whole town wanted answers, information. The house chose not to be accommodating, then either.

  He pulled the car up behind Ned's and took a few moments to gather his thoughts and make peace with the fact that he would now have to re-enter the home. He hoped what he found there wouldn't sink him further into the abyss of heartache and loss. He hoped she - the manor - would show pity on his poor, broken soul and allow him just enough time to tend to it properly, as she would have liked it and, then, move on relatively unscathed from the experience.

  The sheriff didn't flinch as Milan turned off the engine. His attention was focused on the upstairs windows. His back was straight, his neck arched, as he watched, looking as if he'd seen something or someone.

  "What is it?" Milan settled beside him, looking up.

  Ned wiped his brow. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  Milan looked back at the upstairs window, knowing that it was his grandmother's former bedroom and squinted to make out what the sheriff had been staring at.

  "You've got your work cut out for you here, Milan." The sheriff said.

  "Looks that way." Milan acknowledged him. "Okay, well, let me show you where I found it."

  He followed Milan into the yard, past where the flower beds once lay, and around to the side of the house, heading toward the tunnel.

  "Where are we going? Where did you find it?" Ned's voice shook.

  Milan recognized the trepidation. He felt the same way, but he assured the sheriff that where he found the medallion was behind the yard, not in the tunnel.

  When they reached the spot, Milan explained how he'd come across it and, then, asked, "Why didn't you tell me about Tuck's boy?"

  The sheriff looked genuinely surprised. "What? What about Tuck's boy?"

  "Why didn't you mention that he was trespassing on the property?" Milan asked.