Supernatural Seduction: 5 Paranormal Novellas

by Holley Trent

  “I’m surprised you remember my grade, professor.” And my name. “And yes, it’s still Miss.” Abby said “miss” a bit too loudly. A frisson of anxiety skittered up her spine; or was it excitement?

  “Call me Malcolm. We’re on equal footing now.”

  Hardly. “All right, uh, Malcolm.” She nearly choked on his name. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” She cleared her throat. “I’m in charge of the annual holiday production, and this year we’re doing a play called Vampire Train. I know the legend of the Stonewall Jackson has been written to death, pardon the pun, but I’ve always been fascinated by the notion that there were more than ghosts on that train. So, some may think the subject’s a bit morose for the holidays, but my play includes a vampire.”

  Professor McClellan, who had seemed only mildly interested in her spiel, rose from his chair and rounded his desk. He perched on the corner, directly in front of Abby, his long legs spread straight out and crossed at the ankles. Planting his hands on either side of his hips, he leaned forward. His piercing eyes practically burned a hole in her forehead. “What do you know of vampires, Abby?”

  Whoa, he called me Abby. “Enough to write a play?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question. She’d read a lot about vampires in preparation for the play. She almost wished they were real. There was something mighty sexy about that neck-biting business.

  “I think not.” He straightened to his full John Wayne height, and his already baritone voice lowered an octave. “Why did you come to me?”

  The way he’d said “Come to me” made Abby’s knees tremble, and she found herself inching toward him. She took a deep breath, and blurted out her request. “I thought, or rather, the head of the theater department thought, though I had to agree, reluctantly, well, not entirely reluctantly, that you would possibly, no probably, oh hell, definitely, make a good vampire.”

  He rubbed his gorgeous cleft chin. “Interesting concept.”

  While he contemplated, she jumped in. “I’m hoping to use this play as the springboard for a couple of student set designers to get jobs in New York when they graduate. In this economy, theater jobs are hard to find.” Had she appealed to his sense of fairness?

  “I’m quite busy — ”

  She trudged on. “The better the cast is, the better the production will be. You’d be doing it for the students.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid — ”

  “Think of how inspiring it would be for them.”

  He upped the volume. “I don’t want to set a precedent.”

  This was becoming a pissing match, and she could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to budge. “Oh, forget it. I can find someone at a Goth club in Philly. You know, a vampire wannabe.”

  “You shouldn’t go to one of those places alone. Unsavory characters hang out there. You wouldn’t want to be bitten by someone unscrupulous.”

  What did he mean by that? “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sure you can.” His expression didn’t match his words. “When do you suppose you’ll make this trip?”

  “Do you want to go with me?” No, I didn’t say that. “I’ll probably head there tonight. But don’t do me any favors.”

  “As you’ll recall, Abby, there was a coed murdered here several years ago. I simply don’t want the college to experience any untoward publicity.”

  “Oh, right. This is about the college.” Abby’s eyes wandered around the professor’s office, and then returned to a rock on his desk, probably from Little Round Top. “I guess you’ve played a lot of Civil War heroes.” Maybe I can show him I remembered something from his class. “My favorite was Colonel Chamberlain. What he did on Little Round Top with that slew of soldiers from Maine was amazing.”

  “Slew?” He huffed. “Is that somewhere between a brigade and a regiment, Abby? The next time you refer to Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, you might remember it was the 20th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment.”

  So much for saving face. “I’ll be going, now.” She got up from her chair and smoothed her jeans down. “Thank you, Malcolm.” She turned, and with as much bravado as she could muster, knowing an orange handprint decorated her butt, walked slowly out of his office. She stopped at the door and said over her shoulder, “You know, Christmas is coming. It would be nice if you cut the students some slack on the essay deadline. It is all about the students, isn’t it, Malcolm?”

  • • •

  Malcolm leaned back in his chair. His heartbeat thrummed, which was odd. It typically beat so slowly that any doctor would have declared him dead. Of course, dead he was. Feeling the beat of his heart was disquieting, yet exciting. He stared at the door Abby had just closed and listened to her footsteps fade down the hall. Humans wouldn’t have heard the soft pad of her boots on carpet, but he had no problem detecting each step. Her stomping helped. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Had he remembered her? How could he forget?

  She’d always sat in the front row of his class, glued to him with those soulful hazel eyes. Other coeds regarded him lustfully, but she hung on his words. She seemed genuinely interested in what he was trying to convey, not simply entranced by his veneer. He knew she was special, which is why he’d avoided her. The last thing he needed was human entanglement. Once she left the college after her graduation, he thought he was safe from her allure. He could still see her blowing those golden blonde bangs out of her eyes as she labored over a quiz. He’d repressed the image of her pert nose, peachy skin, and bouncy breasts. But damn if she didn’t come back to Gettysburg to teach, and inadvertently, to haunt him.

  And now he had no choice; he had to rescue her. He’d been unable to save Sarah those many years ago, when duty to country trumped family, but he could keep Abby out of harm’s way. She’d probably go to that Goth club decked out like a fang-banger with no idea of the danger she was in. So, there’d be no compartmentalizing this time. He’d have to see her again. And then what? Act in her play? He could feel his resolve melting like the November snow. For the first time since Sarah died, he considered the prospect of companionship … and passion.

  Chapter Two

  Awakened by distant cannon fire, Sarah reached across the bed for Malcolm. He wasn’t there. She sat up and found him standing at the window in full uniform, gazing off in the distance.

  He must have sensed her stirring. He didn’t turn around, but said, “John Reynolds was killed yesterday in a skirmish at Herbst’s Woods. He’d just arrived to assist Buford.”

  Sarah rushed to her husband, almost tripping on her long nightgown, and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her face into his broad back. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. He was a good man. And poor Kate! She must be devastated.”

  Malcolm ran his hand through his thick hair. “We graduated together at the Point. There wasn’t a better soldier — or man.”

  “I must go to Kate. Perhaps she’d like to stay with us a while.”

  Malcolm turned from the window and pulled Sarah close. “My love, that won’t be possible. I just received orders from General Meade. The Confederates are heading this way, and I’m to lead the Pennsylvania cavalry.” He took a deep breath and audibly exhaled. “You’ll need to go to your sister’s house in town. By this afternoon, I expect General Lee will have set up camp here.”

  “Here? At our house?” Sarah disengaged from Malcolm’s embrace and fingered the embroidered flowers on the nightgown her sister had made for her trousseau. She looked out the window, staring westward. “Are you sure?”

  “I’d bet on it,” he answered. “The Army of the Potomac is forming its defensive line southeast of town, waiting for Lee’s attack. The Rebs will most likely tramp through our property today, spend the night here, and head through town tomorrow. I’ve instructed Sully to take the animals east to the old homestead. I’m sure the Rebs
will help themselves to our vegetables, but I’ll be damned if I let them take the cattle and swine.”

  Sarah’s knees buckled, and she slid to the floor. She clamped her arms around Malcolm’s legs and sobbed. “I won’t let you go.”

  He caressed her shoulders. “I forget how inexperienced you are with the life of a soldier.” His hands lifted her delicate body, the body he worshipped. He raised her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “This is my duty, Sarah.”

  She thumped his chest with her fists, but then went limp in his arms. “I wish you were just a farmer.”

  He laughed and stroked her cheek. “It’s a bit late for that. Besides, most of the farmers in Pennsylvania are soldiers now.” He led her to the armoire and took out her gray riding dress, laying it on the bed. “Get dressed, my love, and see me off. Once I’ve reported to General Meade, I’ll visit you this evening at your sister’s.”

  “Will you be able to leave your men with the Rebs coming?”

  “They won’t attack at night, but by tomorrow, I’m afraid every building in town will become a hospital.”

  Sarah covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe they’re so close.”

  “Let’s hope they respect our property. I’ve heard the Rebs are kinder than our side in that regard.” He gathered her in his arms. Rubbing her back until she settled, he then cupped her buttocks, lifted her, and kissed her soundly.

  That evening as the sun set, Malcolm rapped on Caroline’s door, just off Baltimore Street.

  Sarah answered and pulled him quickly into the house, leaping into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. “Oh, Malcolm, I behaved like such a child today. Can you forgive me?”

  He returned her kisses fervently, and said, “Sarah, I cannot be cross with you.”

  She led him through the house to the back porch, where a garden bloomed with roses, and a gentle breeze furled the Pennsylvania state flag. “I wrote you a letter today.” She withdrew the stationery from her cuff and handed it to him.

  He passed the letter beneath his nose to inhale the lavender scent, and then handed it back to her. “Read it to me.”

  They sat together on the porch swing, and she unfolded the paper. Her hands trembled as she smoothed it out. “Dearest,” she began. “Forgive me for adding a burden to your duty.” She looked up at him plaintively, and he nodded for her to continue. “As you remarked, I am inexperienced, but I married you knowing full well that you are a soldier. I had hoped that when you returned this last time it would be for good. I suppose it was foolish of me, and wishful thinking, but I never thought the war would go on this long. Please be patient with me, and know that I live for you and our love. Nothing is more important to me than knowing your mind is clear when you lead your men. Know that I am yours forever, and that if your life should end in the service of our nation, I will carry your name for the rest of my life. No one could ever replace you, my dearest, and our time together will sustain me, whatever the future brings.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. “Your adoring wife, Sarah.” She folded the note, returned it to its envelope, and fitted it into his breast pocket, just above his heart.

  He patted his pocket. “I will keep it here.” He rose from the swing and held a hand out to her. “I have to return to camp before dawn, but nothing would please this soldier more than to hold his beloved.”

  She stepped into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest. “My sister prepared the guest room for us. The bed’s small for two, though.”

  Malcolm kissed the top of her head. “No matter. We will be one.”

  Chapter Three

  Abby chose her outfit for the evening carefully. It wouldn’t do to look like a virgin at a Goth club. She figured she could get away with a turtleneck, leggings, and knee-high stiletto boots, all in black. The boots added three inches to her five foot four frame. Like five foot seven was threatening. Oh, well, she’d make it up in attitude.

  Borrowing as much chain jewelry as she could find, she sprayed a few purple streaks in her blonde bangs, hung spider web earrings from her ears, and applied pale base makeup and dark red lipstick. The theater department had most of the stuff she needed, though the earrings came from the last of the markdowns in the depleted Halloween aisle at Walmart.

  Singing along to the soundtrack from Twilight on the way to Philly, Abby strictly observed the speed limit, which wasn’t easy sipping a caffeine-loaded diet soda and wound tighter than the elastic on her ponytail. The Google directions said that Night Fright was immediately off 95 and easy to find. Kyle had recommended it. She couldn’t fathom how Kyle could know anything about Goth clubs, but his assessment seemed to be accurate. According to her web search, Night Fright was the “place to start” to “get into the Goth scene in Philadelphia.” Besides, with club names like Sex Dwarf, Despondent Heaven, and Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control, Night Fright sounded like the safest bet. To date, the scariest place she’d ever been was Murphy’s Pub on St. Patrick’s Day, if you could call green beer scary.

  When Abby pulled into Night Fright’s parking lot, she found it brimming with cars. Had the full moon brought the creatures of the night out for combat? She checked her pallid face in the rearview mirror before exiting the car, and then wobbled on her dominatrix boots to the front door. The bouncer gave her a quick once-over. His Mohawk didn’t budge as he nodded her in with “Well, well, another baby bat. You’ll have lots of takers tonight.”

  Oh, great, I look like a newbie. Just what I wasn’t going for. The pulsating music, which seemed to seep out of the walls, hit her chest. Did the erratic beat come from her heart or the clamoring vibes? She elbowed her way to the closest bar, where a skinhead bartender ogled her with one eye. The other eye roamed its socket like it was unattached. Eye contact could be problematic.

  “Uh, do you have any nonalcoholic beer?” She directed her gaze at the bar surface, where various objects of carnal pleasure were embedded under polyurethane. Of the objects Abby could identify, the nipple clamps looked particularly painful.

  “Trying to keep your blood pure, sweetheart?” The bartender leered.

  “Just want my wits about me when I choose my pleasure for the evening.” She winked at his good eye.

  “Maybe I can help you out. What kind of pleasure are you looking for?” He lopped off the screw top on her beer and handed the bottle to her.

  “I hate to sound stereotypical, but tall, dark, and handsome would do.”

  “Search no further.” The bartender nodded to Abby’s left.

  She brought the beer nonchalantly to her lips, and then clunked the bottle on her tooth when she looked up at Malcolm McClellan.

  “Did you follow me here?” The sight of him churned her stomach like a roto-rooter. With trembling hands, she set her bottle down.

  He half smiled. “I could ask the same question.” He wore a black leather jacket over his signature turtleneck.

  “I told you I can take care of myself.” She ran her tongue over her clunked tooth.

  He framed her body with his arms, planting his hands on the bar. “Honestly, you can’t, but you certainly are a determined little thing.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “And you’re an annoying big thing.” She looked him up and down, which made her want to hyperventilate. She gulped. “I’ll do anything to help my students. I thought you were that kind of teacher, too.”

  “I used to be.”

  “But not anymore? That’s a shame. There’s nothing more satisfying than watching students reach their potential.” Yikes, that sounded a bit sanctimonious.

  He shrugged and then bent to her ear. “I need a lift back to Gettysburg. And isn’t this serendipitous? I’ll be able to accompany you home.”

  “How’d you get here?” She was dangerously close to his lips, which glistened in the dim light. Her sc
alp tingled. Oh, great, now I’m lightheaded. She took a deep breath.

  “I have my ways.”

  “Well, I’m staying until I find someone for my play, so why don’t you plant yourself in a corner somewhere and observe.” She tried to shoo him away with a wave.

  “I’m not leaving you alone in that get-up. You’re asking for trouble. And take off those ridiculous earrings. You look like you’re ready for trick or treat.”

  “I thought I looked like serious vampire bait.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and when he returned her attempt at cute with a mesmerizing stare, she removed the spider webs from her ears. They’d been tickling her anyway.

  “In that outfit, you’ll end up in an alley … seriously drained.”

  Abby laughed, but then cut her humor short as she read Malcolm’s intense expression. He took her elbow and turned her toward the exit. “You’ve got the actor for your play. We’re leaving now.”

  Her heart kicked into overdrive as Malcolm maneuvered her out of Night Fright and directly to her car. “I’ll drive,” he said.

  She threw him her keys, and she’d barely fastened her seatbelt before they were careening out of the parking lot. She held her breath when he merged onto 95 without checking for oncoming traffic. “Whoa, could you please slow down?”

  “Yes, I could, but you don’t have to worry about my driving.” He looked at her. “My reflexes are incomparable.”

  “Yeah, but my nerves aren’t.” Abby squeezed her eyes shut. Then a hand warmed her thigh and a blast of heat radiated to her core.

  “Relax, Abby.” His hand squeezed gently.

  In spite of the chilly night, beads of perspiration blossomed on Abby’s forehead.

  The speedometer read ninety, but he stared at her rather than the road. She pointed to the windshield. “Please, focus.”

  His charisma sucked her in. His aura frazzled her mind, as though her will was no longer her own. Truth be told, she was more excited than afraid. A raw hunger gnawed at her gut. “Do you know where I live?”