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

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “It burns, I can’t—”

  “Get up,” he barked again.

  I slowly rose to my feet, keeping my back to the windows. Even turned away from the direct source of light, I could still feel the heat all around me.

  I have to get out of this.

  I took a quick step back toward the penthouse, but a hand caught me, whipping me back around.

  “Please, no! I have to get away,” I yelled.

  Another hand reached to cover my mouth.

  “Wait here, or go back there and die,” The man whispered into my ear. “Whatever you choose, keep quiet!”

  I nodded, closing my eyes to the blinding light ahead of me.

  Waiting for the elevator to arrive at the topmost floor took an eternity. I felt as if my flesh would melt away from my bones before the elevator could arrive.

  The blessed ding sounded and the doors parted, allowing us to retreat into the dim, fluorescent-lit cave that was the elevator. I praised the builder for choosing to leave this elevator fully enclosed. My red, stinging hands throbbed. I watched them pulsing as my immortal skin tried to heal itself. The ride down to the garage was too short and soon we were back in the open and exposed again to direct sunlight.

  Once the doors parted, light flooded in from all directions, blinding me. In my disorientation I stumbled, smashing into a wall. My sunglasses fell to the ground and the brightness intensified. It washed out everything, leaving a white haze inches from my face. The heat licked at my skin, stinging me as I reached out, trying to feel my way around to find my lost sunglasses.

  An arm grabbed me, jerking me over to a van parked at the curb. Its back doors sat open waiting for us to get inside. I quickly hopped in, followed by my escort.

  The van was already filled with others dressed in the same funny manner as I had been. There was a sheet pinned up behind the driver and passenger seats blocking the light from the front windows. The doors closed and I breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming the darkness.

  The van lurched forward as it pulled out of the garage. I reached above my head to pull my hood down, and a hand caught my wrist.

  “Leave it until we reach the safe house,” the muffled voice said.

  Safe house, I thought to myself. Who are these people? After hearing Kallisto’s complete lack of care for her own children, I couldn’t believe that that she would be responsible for sending me to a safe house, and I didn’t think Lysander could have come to my rescue this soon. I sat quietly, trying to figure out the identity of my rescuer.

  The van tilted from side to side as it moved through the streets of Las Vegas. We all rode in silence; no one seemed willing to speak. I sensed the anxiety and fear coming from many of the hooded figures I was riding with. The danger of our daytime ride weighed heavy on all of their minds.

  After a long drive, we finally came to a stop. I heard the sound of a garage door closing outside, and there was a quick, patterned rapping at the back of the van before the doors parted.

  I breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the dimly lit garage. Pulling the hood off my head, I broke the silence.

  “Where the hell are we?” I asked.

  I only heard mumbling from the other inhabitants of the van as we filed out one by one.

  “A safe house.” A man spoke, pulling off his ski mask and revealing himself to be Edmond.

  Edmond? What? Why did he bring me here?

  My eyes were wide with amazement. I had not thought anyone from Kallisto’s coven would think to save me from the Saints. I had assumed I would be left to die with the coven as Kallisto had said earlier.

  “No doubt you’re aware of the Acta Sanctorum,” said Edmond, addressing the inhabitants of the van as he tied his hair back into a neat ponytail.

  I nodded, as did the others, who were now removing their coverings.

  “They will attack the coven house before nightfall.”

  The others from the van were clearly shocked by this news. It appeared that not everyone knew about the Saints’ arrival in Vegas. Those just now pulling off their masks, sunglasses, and hoods revealed horrified faces. It seemed that the mere mention of the Acta Sanctorum drove fear into the heart of every immortal.

  “What about the others?” a voice from the crowd asked.

  “They are gone, and you will not think on them again.” Edmond’s voice was strong and commanding, though the look in his eyes said otherwise.

  Hmm. It really does seem to be bothering him that he couldn’t save the others.

  “Your mistress,” he continued, “has chosen you to continue on with the coven. You should be honored you were spared.”

  I felt the anger around me, but no one spoke any challenge to Edmond’s words.

  We entered the darkened house. It had the appearance of being recently vacated by its human owners. As we passed through the kitchen on the way to the living room, I could see food-speckled dishes still soaking in the sink and smell the scent of rotting garbage leaking out of a lidded trash can. The windows and doorways had been hastily covered with bed sheets and blankets to block out the light, giving the home a cave-like appearance.

  Edmond retreated to the hallway, telling us to settle down in the living room until nightfall. Although tired from lack of sleep, I couldn’t immediately shut my eyes. I found a spot just below the couch and curled myself into a ball. My mind ran amok, replaying all of the events in the last two weeks that had brought me here.

  Why had I been spared?

  Chapter 22

  THE FAMILIAR ACTION News theme music played in the background as my eyes slowly opened and focused on the ceiling. The room was dim, lit only by the TV and a small lamp. I watched the shadows on the ceiling dancing to and fro with the music.

  For a brief moment, I thought I was back in Lysander’s home and had dreamed the whole Kallisto encounter, but as I stretched and looked around the room, reality hit me. This wasn’t Lysander’s living room, and it was not Nicholas watching the evening news. My eyes met hers as I glanced up towards the couch.

  I was still with Kallisto.

  The anchorwoman spoke in the background and my attention was momentarily drawn to the TV.

  “…continuing coverage on what the fire department is calling the worst high-rise fire in Las Vegas history. From our sky-cam shots, you can see the top floor, which previously housed two lavish penthouses, engulfed in flames. A call was placed to 911 at approximately 5 p.m. this evening when someone spotted smoke rising from the top of tower three. Sources say the cause of the fire is still unknown, and fire crews have not been able to get the flames under control, due to the height of the buildings and a mysterious fire sprinkler malfunction. The flames were allowed to spread unchecked for least an hour before fire crews were able to get the sprinkler system running again. It is unknown if the inhabitants of the penthouses were able to make it out of the building before it was too late.”

  I saw with horror the charred top of the building I had been in only a few hours earlier. The helicopter taking the video circled slowly, rotating around the burning building. A huge plume of smoke rose hundreds of feet into the sky.

  I shuddered. I could have been left there. That was supposed to have been my fate. I should have died, locked in that small closet of a room.

  Others wandered into the living room, their eyes locked onto the screen. I saw the horror in their faces as they watched the scene on the TV. Kallisto’s lips curled into an evil smile.

  “I will accept your thanks and praise for sparing you this fate,” she said expectantly.

  The room was a mix of fear, anxiety, and anger. I knew if I felt it, Kallisto could too; no doubt she knew the thoughts of her subjects. They were mad that their family had been sacrificed, left behind to be brutally murdered by the Acta Sanctorum as they slept.

  The obedience Kallisto commanded outweighed any outrage in their hearts, and although there was anger, each person offered their thanks to Kallisto, probably fearing her retribution if they didn’t.
I sat still, uncertain what to do.

  “Why did she bring me here?” I whispered. With the coven destroyed, Lysander would assume I was dead and there would be no need for him to come after me.

  Edmond entered the room and ordered the others to their feet, giving them assignments to guard the perimeter of the house. I watched as the others scurried out of the front and back doors, leaving only the three of us in the room.

  Kallisto spoke, “Alyssa, I do not feel you truly appreciate that I have spared your life.” Her cold eyes glared at me, expecting some response from me.

  I had not expressed any thanks to her. I remained still and quiet, sitting on the floor. I realized I was angering Kallisto, but my mind was stuck on thoughts of the Acta Santorum’s raid on the penthouse. I turned away from her, glancing back to the TV as the news helicopter circled. A dark gray tower of smoke continued to rise into the sky.

  “You let them all die,” I said, my voice creaking as I tried to call up strength. I felt the anger rising in Kallisto. “Why save me? I am of no use to you.”

  “Oh, I see. You do not wish to live with us,” she asked, emphasizing the word live.

  I thought for a moment, choosing my words carefully, making them sound as pleasing as possible. “Of course I am grateful you spared me.” My eyes remained locked on the TV. “However, I wonder why you’ve… spared me. I fear I will not be able to finish my initiation. Lysander must assume I am dead now.”

  She paused for a moment as her mouth formed an evil smile again, showing the tips of her teeth.

  “My simple little child. You thought you would get out of this so easily.” Kallisto gestured for me to join her on the couch. “You will still have the opportunity to prove your loyalty to me.”

  I obeyed, sitting on the far end of the couch. Edmond moved toward us, taking a spot in an easy chair just behind where I was sitting.

  I tried to keep my eyes on Kallisto, but my nerves got the better of me. Edmond’s cold stare bore through me. He was like a guard dog, patiently waiting for an opportunity to defend his master —or in this case, his mistress. I watched him out of my peripheral vision as he sat there, hands folded in his lap, patiently waiting for Kallisto to signal she was through with me.

  “W-what will you have me do, then?” The anxiety could be heard in my voice. I fought back a lump in my throat. I needed to keep calm.

  “Lysander does not think you are dead, child,” she laughed. “He can feel you, and I assure you, he knows you’re alive.”

  “But how?” The moment the question escaped my lips I realized what she was talking about.

  The warm sensation I had always felt when Lysander was around: he must feel it, too. It was more than just an emotion. It was a beacon between us. I closed my eyes and tried to recall it, quieting the thoughts in my head. At first, there was nothing. I thought of Lysander, picturing his face and eyes. I concentrated on him, imagining he was standing right in front of me.

  There it was: the warmth. It quickly pulsed like a heartbeat in my chest. I felt him as if he were standing right there next to me. Emotion welled up inside of me: fear, anger, hope, despair. I knew he was coming, and I knew it meant death for us both.

  “Ah, good. You do feel it,” Kallisto said mockingly. I hated that she could read my thoughts. I couldn’t control my thoughts enough to block her. Fear gripped me. Kallisto’s trap was set, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Each second drove the nails further into our coffins.

  “He’s close, you know.” She closed her eyes and appeared to be silently meditating for a moment. “Very close.”

  A tear built up in my eye as I fought back the emotions. I didn’t want to show Kallisto my pain. She didn’t deserve the satisfaction. I bit down hard on my lip, focusing on the immediate sting as my teeth broke the skin.

  “You see, we can always feel our children, Alyssa, just as they can feel us. Lysander will soon be here, and when the time comes, you will still serve your purpose.”

  I hate you!

  I could hear Edmond chuckling behind me.

  Anger and pain clouded my mind. “Why do you have so much hatred for him?” The words escaped my mouth before I could stop myself.

  Kallisto’s face hardened, and her smile turned into a scowl. I knew I had hit a nerve. She was quiet for a moment, cupping her chin in her hands before speaking.

  “Do you know what it is like to give everything to someone, and have them toss you aside?” she hissed.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “Lysander was mine. I gave him everything, I made him a god among men, and how does he repay me?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “He leaves me.” She leaned toward me, lowering her voice and staring straight into my eyes.

  “When I met Lysander, he was a simple farmer. He was nothing. Pathetic. A simple human.”

  Remembering the book Lysander had showed me, I thought back to the temple he described in Amfissa.

  “I made him,” Kallisto said arrogantly. “I saw the raw beauty and I preserved it in this immortal flesh. I gave him everything, anything his heart desired: riches, palatial homes, servants. I did it all for him. He was more than just my child. He was my love. We were mates, he and I, and we were meant to be together for eternity. All I ever asked of him was to worship me.”

  Yeah, I’m sure the riches and palatial homes were all for Lysander. Does she really think I am buying this? What about Edmond?

  Edmond was still in the room listening. I looked over at him, watching his face. He sat like a statue. I saw the strain as he tried to control his emotion. His jaw was clenched tight as he stared blankly at Kallisto.

  How can she say all of this in front of him? She is a real piece of work.

  Edmond made no move to leave the room. He sat there, patiently waiting for Kallisto to instruct him.

  “I believe he did love me in the beginning, but as time moved on, he lost interest in me and our way of life. We were gods among men and rulers of our children. We were mates, and for hundreds of years, we happily shared the rule of our family. But he changed. The years had an odd effect on him. I was no longer the object of his desire. He stopped worshipping me as his goddess. He became reclusive and disobedient. I was ignored and neglected, no longer his mistress.”

  Kallisto paused for a moment. Rage radiated from her. The memory of Lysander seemed to have a strong emotional hold on her.

  “I am still a woman, you know.” The bitterness was palpable in Kallisto’s voice. “And I will not be ignored.”

  I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear more.

  “I hoped finding us a new home would change things.” She regained her smooth tone. “We’d stayed in one place too long. I thought the change of scenery might invigorate his spirit and renew his love for me. So, we moved to France. It was there I met Edmond.”

  I glanced quickly over to Edmond. A faint hint of a smile crossed his face at the mention of his name.

  “He instantly took to the ways of our kind, unlike many of my children before him. He fascinated me with his lust for blood and power. Lysander took my fascination with Edmond as an insult. His reclusiveness got worse. He spent days locked away, writing and drawing, paying no attention to me. Only the administration of the coven would interrupt his hobby. He would attend to nightly business and then retreat to his private chambers. He felt Edmond was a threat to his position in our family and decided to leave us.”

  I can’t blame him for leaving, either.

  “His departure tore our family apart. He destroyed us from the inside, leaving a gaping hole where he once was. Our family was divided, fighting amongst one another. We were plagued by hunters and the Acta Sanctorum for centuries after Lysander left us. We fled from country to country, eventually ending up in London.”

  I looked back at Edmond, still silent in his chair.

  “It was there I felt him trying to end his life with eternal sleep,” Kallisto continued. “I thought healing him and b
ringing him home would be a new chance for us and our coven. We could rebuild again to our former glory, but he wouldn’t have it.”

  She paused again. I saw the start of a crimson tear in her eyes. She quickly wiped the moisture away before speaking. “After all I have done for him, he would rather shun me than love me.”

  I heard an annoyed sigh behind me from Edmond.

  For a moment, I felt sorry for her. Kallisto, as evil as she was, was still a woman who felt scorned and discarded. She was warped by her anger, and the desire for revenge fueled her. I wondered if it was the only thing she had to live for.

  Edmond, though an obedient servant, seemed no more than that. Kallisto didn’t love him. I gathered he served no real emotional purpose to Kallisto. Lysander must have always held her heart.

  “But you have Edmond,” I blurted out. I looked over my shoulder again. I saw Edmond’s chest rise as he sat up in his seat.

  “Yes, of course, I have Edmond. My puppet,” she retorted. “I can have any man I want. That is not the point.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edmond’s chest deflate.

  Ouch. That must have hurt. “You don’t need Lysander. You have another mate.”

  “Edmond is not my mate,” she scoffed. “Oh, he wishes he were. He serves me well enough in bed, but no, he is not my mate.”

  Wow, did she really say that with him sitting here? I wouldn’t need to look back to see Edmond’s expression. I could just imagine how crushing her words would be to him.

  “Lysander was my mate,” she growled. “If he will deny me, then I will deny him. He shall suffer as he has made me suffer all these years.”

  “But why punish others for Lysander’s crimes against you?” I asked.

  “You call my offer to you, a second chance at life, a punishment?” Anger leached out with her words.

  I knew I should have chosen my words better. I had crossed the line this time.

  She fixed me with a cold stare. “You forget, child, you’re a bastard to my coven, and under normal circumstances, you would have been put down like a dog. You should thank me for my generosity.”