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Sharon’s note: I read supernatural academy books. Most of the time they’re pretty bad, but that’s what makes them entertaining. I thought it would be more fun to make fun of them, and it is. It really is. Warning: Set up ended up more serious than the author intended. Oh well. The jokes are coming, she promises.

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I rubbed at my eye again before staring at my eye in the mirror. The weird red glow that hovered above my iris like a star on a sapphire was still there. It didn’t interfere with my vision, but it was freaking me out. Glowing spheres floating through the night and smacking into my eyeball was not something I had a coping mechanism for. What was I supposed to do? Go to the hospital? It didn’t hurt. I was leaning towards going to the urgent care.

There was a heavy knock on the door. “Jess? Hurry up! Other people got to use the bathroom.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I unlocked the door and Ricky pushed past me before hustling me out. As I turned to him to ask for a ride, he slammed the door in my face. Ass.

It didn’t surprise me that he didn’t notice the glowy red thing in my eye. There were six people crammed into the three bedroom, one bath, house we shared, but we generally tried to ignore each other. None of us liked sharing a domicile, but it was an unfortunate necessity for poor college students. Silent avoidance made for awkward, but mostly good housemates. 

I went to my room to gather up my things. Calling an ambulance seemed kind of extreme, and really expensive, so I used my phone to call for a ride. I was stuffing a couple of textbooks in my bag in case I had time to study while I waited when Amy stalked in. I shared the room with her, so it made sense she would come in without knocking sometimes, but she always did it and it drove me up a wall. It wasn’t that hard to remember and I never forgot. 

“There’s a guy at the front door for you,” Abby said. She threw herself down on her bed and glared at me like I’d stolen her favorite top and lost it at a one night stand’s place. Ever since she’d done it to me, she’d acted like I’d done the crime. The guilty were always the most defensive. I hated people. 

“That was quick.” Either the driver was just down the street, or there was someone else here. And why hadn’t Abby commented on my eye? She wasn’t as unobservant as Ricky. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as I thought. Maybe I was hallucinating it and it wasn’t really there. Either way, I needed to see a doctor. 

Whoever had showed up to talk to me, I wasn’t in the mood. I stomped to the front door and flung it open. The man on the porch radiated ‘lawyer’. He wore a neat black suit and carried a black leather suitcase. His dark hair was slicked back and his gold framed glasses sparkled in the morning sun. What oddly stuck out to me was his shoes, black leather loafers with shiny pennies tucked in the front.

“Ah, you must be the young lady I’m looking for.” He had a weather forecaster’s smile, professional, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I am here to change your life.”

Oh. He was a scammer. I shut the door in his face. 

“No, wait!” he called through the door. “It’s about the thing in your eye. You have to be curious about it. I can tell you about it.”

I bit my lip for a second, then opened the door. “You can see it? It’s really there?”

He broke into a real grin, and it was somewhere between nice and goblin-esque. Goblinesque. Was that a word? Didn’t matter. 

“Oh, it’s there, and I have so much to tell you.” He hefted his briefcase and bounced on his toes, looking more like an excited kid than a lawyer. “I’m not going to lie. This is my favorite part of my job. Welcome to the wonderful world of magic.”

What? I shut the door in his face again.

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Part 1

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Sharon’s note: Welcome to the last episode! I like sweet, goofy romances. When it reads like erotica-light (or sometimes, not-so-light) and that isn’t what I got the book for, it annoys me a lot. Sometimes I want to read about love that’s about the emotional connection and actual courtship rather than how the romantic interest affects the blood flow of certain body parts of the main character. Warning: Sometimes love is silly, cute and awkward.

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“Thanks for the ride,” I said as Sam pulled the car out of the hospital parking lot.  

“No problem.” He spared a glance from the road to shoot me a smile. “How’s your head?”

I automatically touched the bump on the back of my skull that was still tender. “It’s fine. The doctor said everything looks good. Mostly I just managed to scare the crud out of me and Baskerville.”

“I’ve told your dad a hundred times, that dog needs to go on a diet.” He smiled, shaking his head with a silent chuckle. 

“Have you ever tried saying no to him?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’ll just be sitting there with your lunch and he’ll be staring at you with those big eyes. It would take a heart of stone to resist. Besides, Bask is twelve years old. I’m not sure how much a better diet will extend his life.”

“You never know. Once you’re a werewolf, the word impossible loses meaning. Maybe he could live to see a hundred.” 

That. . . was something I hadn’t thought much about. What else was possible when werewolves existed, and one of them wanted to be your boyfriend. I was fixating on that, wasn’t I? A world of possibilities, and all I could think about was a guy who said that we were magically perfect for each other. Fine, I just had to deal with a dragon in front of me. Were dragons a thing?

“So, Dad’s coming back on Sunday. After that, I’m supposed to go home,” I said, staring out of the window. 

“Oh.” The disappointment in Sam’s voice was heartbreaking. “And you live like four hours away, right? Maybe I could come visit you.”

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. Being in the hospital gave you lots of long waiting times to think, and I had put it towards making a decision. “Most of my job is done remotely, and I need to go home to straighten some stuff out, but I’m going to be moving into town. Dad is getting older, and while I’m really happy he isn’t alone, his wife is the same age. I’d feel more comfortable if I was close by, and . . . I wouldn’t mind, maybe, if we started seeing each other, you know, a little more seriously.”

I stared hard at the passing scenery, willing the burning in my cheeks to stop. Sam cleared his throat, and I glanced at him. He was blushing too, and visibly fighting a huge, dopey grin. 

“I, um, I like that idea. Hey, let me know if you need help finding a place or moving stuff or-” He cleared his throat again. “Just let me know if I can help.”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel like cooking tonight. Maybe you could bring over some pizza and we could watch a movie.” I held up a finger. “Just watching a movie mind you.”

He flexed his hands on the steering wheel and chuckled nervously. “I’d like that.”

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Sharon’s Note: I didn’t start out liking horror, movies or books. I was a really creative kid, with a great imagination, so I was scared of everything. Eventually, I got tiered of being afraid, and one by one, I started to face my fears. It turns out, when you chase the monsters in your head, they run. Horror became fascinating, because it was more roller coaster ride than nightmare. I’m still learning to write horror, and it’s a hell of a ride. Warning: Terrors from the dark are rarely as scary if you drag them into the light.

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It felt less like a hall and more like a mine shaft. The second door in the morgue led to a long tunnel at the bottom of a ramp. According to Ernie, it led to another building with the incinerator. He carried the lantern ahead of me, the light dancing over the struts that held up the roof and spooked the occasional rat.

“Hey, what’s with the rodent problem?” I skipped to the side to get out of the way of one that ran right at me. They seemed to avoid Ernie and Kathy.

She frowned, swinging a foot lazily at another one that passed. It jumped away with a squeal. “They congregate anywhere there’s a body. You want to find a corpse around here, just follow the scratching.”

“Why?” I moved closer to the ghosts in hopes of avoiding a rat up my pant leg.

“Damn if I know,” Ernie grumbled. “This place was strange even before my father started his experiments. It’s why he sought it out. The rats were here first.”

“Why is that creepier than anything else I’ve seen here tonight?” I muttered. 

Kathy chuckled. “It gets a lot worse, believe me. There are literally places here where the dead fear to tread.”

And that made me more nervous than I wanted to admit. It was cool in the tunnel, but I only just now was getting goose pimples. I cleared my throat. “So, who is Elizabeth?”

“She was a vampire who controlled most of the western seaboard at one point. My father went through great lengths to get ahold of her, thinking that her strength would be valuable to his experiments.” Ernie shook his head with a smile. “Her endurance was amazing, and she survived long enough that she managed to break free of her containment. She fought her way through the hospital and almost made it out through these tunnels.”

“If she made it this far, what stopped her?” The tunnels were starting to feel claustrophobic as the temperature dropped further and the light didn’t penetrate as far into the darkness. “Is it my imagination, or is it getting spooky in here?”

“It is.” Ernie pointed down the hall. A lone figure sat against the wall, arms tucked around its legs. “As for the rest of the story, I think the one who lived and died it is the best one to tell it. Maggie, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this young lady would like to ask you some questions.”

The figure unfolded and stood. My guess was at one time, she was an attractive woman. She was tall with sharp, delicate features. Even her skull was shapely under hair cut so short it showed scalp in some places. Her posture was perfect, with her shoulders back and her head held high. Not everyone could pull off being a naked, emaciated corpse with that much grace. 

“Well, I’m afraid I haven’t entertained in a while, but I always appreciate a little company.” She smiled, showing fangs that looked too long to talk through and pale, receding gums. “Very well, Miss Maggie, have a seat, if you don’t mind the rats. You can ask me anything.”

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Sharon’s Note: I’m a sucker for that moment when our hero decides to turn and fight. It’s inspiring, and gives me the warm fuzzies. I want a scene that makes me almost antsy, because I’m ready to join the battle right beside the main character. Hopefully, this is at least a little of that. Warning: After writing this, the author kind of wants to hit something.

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Jim held on to the clever so tight his hand hurt. He gestured for the couple to follow him towards the front gate. The carnival was bustling, the crowd seemingly unaware of the danger they were in. He wanted to yell and warn them, but he doubted they could even hear him over the din. They would just think he was crazy if they could. 

Other than a drunken jerk who swore at Jim for bumping into him, they reached the front without incident. No one was manning the ticket booth in the front. Actually, once he thought about it, Jim hadn’t seen any of the carnival personnel. People came and went without paying, and took food left out at stalls that weren’t making any more. The rides were running, but no one was working them. Unease hit his stomach like a ball of ice.

“You two get out of here,” he urged the couple. “I’m going back to help Wendy.”

“Should we. . . should we call the cops or something?” the woman asked.

Jim licked his lips. “Uh, maybe? I don’t know how much good it will do.”

The man turned her around and they made their escape. Jim ran back into the crowd. Wendy has said that he should follow the sounds of fighting to find her, but he couldn’t hear anything above the cacophony of the crowd. There were way too many people clogging isles that were suddenly too narrow. He couldn’t find the signs that would point him back towards the haunted house so he fought his way to the ferris wheel because it was the only landmark he could see clearly. It towered above the tents, so much taller in twilight than it had been during the day.

Screams rose above the din, and the crowd started to surge. Stampede. The word rang through Jim’s head, and he pushed his way to one of the food stalls. He jumped over the counter as the huge mass of people charged towards the exit. Something hit the side of the stall hard enough to make it shutter, the wood rattling, and he ducked down next to some giant jugs of oil. 

Sounds of pain and panic became a constant, ear-splitting drone, but was almost drowned out by the thunder of running feet. Both of Jim’s hands wrapped around the handle of the cleaver, clutching it to him like a life-saver. Wendy had said that the knife knew what to do. He believed in the knife, and he believed in her. 

With a deep breath, he stood and forced himself to look above the counter. The crowd had thinned, and was giving a wide berth to something in a clown suit. The figure stood at least eight feet tall, in a baggy, dirty white sack of a one piece splattered with crusty brown and fresh red stains. A white oval like a giant egg sat on its neck, a happy, fake face painted on in still dripping blood. No, the mouth wasn’t painted on. The teeth that jutted from the gaping maw were saw-edged triangles, tangled with strips of green cloth. A woman cowered on the ground in front of it, her arm a bloody mess beneath the remains of a green shirt. 

The clown thing reached down to grab her with one, clumsy gloved hand and Jim acted without thinking. He grabbed one of the smaller jugs and hurled it at the monster, where it burst open, spattering it with cooking oil. 

“Hey! Hey, asshole! Come and get me!” 

With a hyena laugh, the clown thing complied.

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Sharon’s note: This story was built around the first line. If the rest of the story sucks, that’s fine, but the first line is solid. 🙂 Warning: Swearing and a not nice protagonist.

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“You are going to die here. Whether or not you walk away from that is up to you.” Annabel wiped the blood off her knife in short, angry strokes. She hated this. She hated doing this. She hated herself for doing it, but she didn’t have a choice. Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she’d believe it.

The man known as Drop spat blood on the floor next to where he sat. She had knocked out one of his teeth while interrogating him. “What the hell are you talking about? Dead is dead.”

Anna put down her tools and really looked at her captive. When she’d snatched him off the street, he’d been dressed nicely, black slacks and a silky red button down shirt that contrasted amazingly against his dark skin. Well, it had. Getting splattered hadn’t improved it, since red didn’t actually hide blood. There were also smudges of grime from the various times she’d thrown him around. Even though it was currently empty, it had been a storage room, and the smell of cooking oil lingered like a ghost. Some must have spilled, because it mixed with the cobwebs and dust to give the floor a light coating of slime.

She walked towards him, the heels of her cowboy boots clicking against the floor. He braced himself and lifted his chin in challenge. “Go ahead. Hit me again, bitch. I’m not telling you anything.”

“I knew that five minutes in, but I had to try.” She leaned down, studying him in the light of the single, bare bulb. “You’re tough, I hit you pretty hard. You’re also brave, and didn’t even flinch when I pulled out the blades. According to your file, you’re also smart.”

“Too bad you’re not.” He surged forward to headbut her, cracking his forehead into her nose. Stunned, he fell back on the floor, eyes unfocused. That had been a good shot. She rubbed a hand across her face. It hadn’t hurt, but it hadn’t been comfortable either. 

Time for a demonstration.

Anna snatched the front of his shirt, balled it in her fist, and lifted him into the air. Drop’s eyes focused and widened. She’s allowed him to see a little of her strength before, but now she hid nothing as she brought him close to her face and bared her fangs at him.

“Fucking cowgirl vampire!” he howled as he kicked at her. She chuckled as she dropped him. 

“Right on the first try.” She backed up a few steps and allowed him to scramble back to the wall. To his credit, he wasn’t just staring at her in terror, but his eyes were flicking around the room, looking for aid or escape. There was none. “Look, Bremen said that I was to kill you whether you give up where Sid is hiding. I have to do it. Bremen made me a vampire, so I don’t have a choice. I also can’t hurt him. What he didn’t tell me was that you had to stay dead. Here’s the deal; I turn you into a vampire, and you kill him for me. You get to live, for a value thereof, and I get my freedom.”

His look turned calculating. Anna’s guess had been right. He was quick. “And how bad does being a vampire suck?”

She considered the question a moment before shrugging and answering honestly. “It has its upsides. Strength, speed, and powers that I’ll teach you. You have to drink blood, but that’s not as hard to come by as you might think. You’ll develop a very bad sun allergy, but as I understand it you work mostly nights anyway.”

“What about you and me?” His eyes bored into her, and it was more uncomfortable than the headbutt. “You’d have the same control over me that Bremen has over you, right? What if you and I get crossways?”

She chuckled humorlessly. “Then you can do what I did, and wait a hundred a fifty years to find a loophole and do exactly what I’m doing now.”

Drop was silent for a full minute while he thought, then nodded. “You got a deal. How do we do this?”

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Sharon’s Notes: Having someone you can talk to is important, even if you don’t expect them to answer you back. Always make sure you have someone to talk to. Even if it’s just a beloved pet. Warning: Author speaks her secrets to the bees.

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Baskerville danced and grumbled at me as I opened the front door. I rushed to the back to let him out. He clamored after me, huffing at the exertion. 

“Dad needs to put you on a diet,” I informed the dog as he rushed out to find a good patch of grass. 

My brain churned over everything I learned. The existence of werewolves, fated not-quite-true love, and last, and possibly least, the fact that Sam was looking for a committed relationship. It was the very definition of things happening too fast. 

I followed Baskerville outside to sit in one of Dad’s decrepit lawn chairs and stared up at the stars. The sun bleached plastic swayed under my weight for a moment before deciding to hold. A cold nose touched my hand and I smiled down at the old dog.

“What about you, huh? Did you know that Sam was a werewolf?” I rubbed his ear and his tongue lowled out, dripping drool onto the grass. “Is it weird that I don’t think I mind? He doesn’t turn into a man-eating monster or anything. It’s the other stuff I can’t wrap my head around. Shapeshifting wolf men are fine, but magically selected dating? What the hell even is that?”

Bask flopped onto his back for belly rubs, and I obliged. It had always been his price for listening to me work out my problems. “Sam said humans don’t feel it because they have no magic. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to feel that kind of instant connection to someone. Sure, he’s hot, and I definitely like the way he looks, but that’s attraction, not . . . whatever the hell this is supposed to be. It’s not fate, or if it is, it’s the non-fixed kind. Sam said I don’t have to act on it if I don’t want to. I can just walk away. He doesn’t want to. He’s ready to settle down and have a family.”

I stopped petting and Baskerville grumbled in complaint. I resumed out of habit. “That’s the sticking point, isn’t it. Not anything supernatural, just that I’m not sure I’m ready to commit. Hell, I don’t even know if I want kids, much less if we could have any. I didn’t think to ask. Oh, hell. What does that say about me as a person, Bask? I don’t know what to do with my life, and that has me more worried than werewolves.”

I put my hands over my face and they smelled like dog. He rolled to his feet and put a paw on my knee. The poor old thing didn’t move well anymore, but he was trying his damndest to climb into my lap because he knew I was upset. I gathered him up and the chair trembled in an effort to hold us both. No matter what else was going on, it helped a lot to know that a dog loved me.

“You know what? I think that I’m going to stick this out a little longer. Give it at least until Dad gets back to decide if I even want to try to make this work. After all, it’s fate recommended, not mandated, right?”

Bask wiggled, trying to lick my face and the chair broke.

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Sharon’s note: I understand the need to know. I’m a very curious person. That being said, the character that charges in stupidly with no plan and a manic need to follow something are kind of annoying. You know they are going to get people killed, the author is counting on them getting people killed, and the only thing up in the air is whether or not the idiot themselves die. That being said, they are such fun to write. They make moving the plot easy. Warning: Author plans to have a little fun with this.

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“Not every patient that came to this hospital was human. Monster though he was, my father thought of himself as a healer. He welcomed those with strange afflictions and promised that he could heal them.”

“What were they?” My thumbs trembled over my phone.

“Every kind of thing.” The leer on Ernie’s face sent a shiver up my spine. “Those cursed by the moon to change their forms and hunt men, those who were brought back from the dead to feast on the blood of the living-”

“Werewolves and vampires. You’re saying that he experimented on werewolves and vampires?”  I would have scoffed at the idea before I saw ghosts.

“Among others. They all came to be made human, but only found pain and death.” He laughed, and it was bitter. “Not a single one of my father’s special patients lived, though it took a very long time for them to die. Their ability to heal was a curse, and one he hopes to pass to me by cutting out a vampire’s heart and sewing it into my chest.”

“That . . . sounds painful.” I swallowed hard.

He shrugged. “Not for long. This was well before the invention of heart transplants. Despite everything my father did to me beforehand to make me survive the operation, I was dead before he even got my heart all the way out.”

I stared at him for a moment. He looked bored, and slightly amused. “You are oddly calm talking about your extremely horrific death.”

He and Kathy laughed. She strolled over to pat me on the shoulder. “Death is traumatic, but you either have to come to terms with it or you become a screaming maniac like that guy in hydro.”

“What happened to him?” 

“He was locked in a tank full of water and drowned. Even werewolves need to breathe.” Ernie shook his head. “He never leaves that box, and if anyone gets close enough to grab he pulls them in and tries to suck the oxygen out of their lungs so he can survive. He’s killed two people.”

“One of them is still huddled in a corner murmuring monosyllables.” Kathy rolled her eyes. “Death craziness is contagious.”

“Don’t be harsh.” He glowered at her. “He’s only five years dead.”

“I wasn’t that crazy right after I died, and McBride killed me personally.” She crossed her arms and turned her attention back to me. “You want to talk about being stuck in the past, the evil doctor keeps killing people because he thinks it will hide his special experiments.” 

“Well, it’s worked so far. No one knows anything about this.” I said, focusing on my notes. When they were quiet for a long moment, I looked up. They were both frowning at me, hard. “What?”

“Please don’t justify anything that man does.” Earnie’s glare made me gulp.

“Sorry. Does this mean that you won’t take me to see a non-crazy supernatural? I’d love an interview.” 

“What are you, stupid?” Kathy swiped at me, and her hand passed through my head. It felt like walking through a cobweb that left a sticky residue on my brain as it passed through. “I brought you down here so that you’d be safe. Your ass is staying here.”

“Oh, come now. We can take her to talk to Elizabeth. She’s a very pleasant lady. We don’t even have to go out into the main building. She’s down in the tunnels.”

Kathy grabbed my shoulders, hands solid this time. “Maggie, listen to me. This is a horrible idea. Please, just stay here.”

I shrugged off her hands. “I have to know.”

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Sharon’s note: Romance is a complicated genre. Romance means lots of things to different people. As a reader, I prefer romance to be either a subplot or at least diluted with something else because most of the time, straight drama is boring. Something else needs to be going on, and that means the lovebirds need to spend a lot of time apart. Warning: This might be as close to the author gets to a third act breakup.

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“Is it just me, is the haunted house bigger and scarier than it was earlier today?” Jim couldn’t say exactly what the difference was, but what had seemed cheap and ramshackled in the light of day was sinister in the dying light. 

“I don’t remember what it looked like earlier, so I couldn’t say.” Wendy closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Multiple people bleeding. We have to move.” 

She pulled away from him and raced inside, a long staff suddenly in her hand. Jim chased after her, and the second he crossed the threshold the sound of screams assaulted him. It took everything he had to keep up with Wendy as she took each turn at an impossible speed. The cardboard ghost sprung out in front of him and he staggered back. 

“Wendy! Wait,” he called, flinging himself forward and punched the ghost as he passed, ripping it off the post and sending it to the floor with a slap. A roar drowned out the human screams. Jim couldn’t hear the clatter of the animatronics for the cacophony, and the smell of blood and rot was strong enough to gag him. 

In the room of hanging chains, a man and a woman were huddled together on the floor, an unattached pair of legs lying in front of them. A crack exploded through the air. Jim fumbled for the cleaver on his belt as he turned to face the noise. Half obscured by the chains, Wendy’s staff collided with the head something that was the shape of a man, but was far too large to be human. Whatever it was toppled backwards and crashed into the floor, shaking the building. 

“That was an ugly sucker.” Wendy pushed her bell over her shoulder, making it chime cheerfully.

Jim crept closer, and caughts a glimpse of something between a man and a toad before it dissolved into a black puddle that reeked of rot and made him wretch. “God, what is that thing?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of squamous thing.” She petted his back while he heaved. “I don’t think it used to be human, not if it dissolved that fast.”

He wiped off his mouth. “Do they do that a lot?”

Wendy shrugged. “Sometimes. Are you good to go? I bet there are more of these things around the carnival.”

“What about them?” Jim gestured to the people huddled in the middle of the room with his chin.

“Oh, right. See? That’s why I need you around.” She grinned at him before strutting over the couple, dragging her staff on the ground behind her. “Are you folks okay?”

“Ron is dead, and my arm. . .” The man held out his arm, and Wendy glanced at it. 

“Oh, yeah, that looks like it hurts. It won’t kill you, and most likely you won’t lose the arm. You need to get to a hospital though. You are going to need a lot of antibiotics. Make a run for the exit. There’s about to be a huge commotion, so you’ll probably make it.”

“Wendy, that guy’s like, really hurt. We can’t just tell him to run and hope for the best.” Jim straightened up and stumbled over. “We have to help them.”

Wendy bit her lip. “The thing is, while we stop everything to help them, who are probably going to be fine, other people are going to die.”

Jim watched as the woman helped the man to stand, both of them pale and shaking. “I’ll take them then. You can go on.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she inglined her head to the rancid pile of goo. “Do you really think you can take one of those on by yourself?”

He stiffened. “I think I’ll do alright.”

Wendy shrugged and wandered in the direction of the exit. Her staff clattered over the floor. “Suit yourself. Be careful, and come find me when you’re done. Just follow the noises of battle.”

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Sharon’s note: There are all sorts of different types of relationship. No matter what type your trying for, always be honest and straightforward about what you want and it will save you a whole lot of heartache. Warning: Author believes that in depth communication is totally romantic.

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Sam sat with his legs crossed, hands tucked under his thighs to stop them from fidgeting. He’d only put his pants back on after he reverted to human, and I got to watch his very nice chest tense, every muscle easily visible. Poor guy, he was so nervous. As much as I was enjoying the show, I had to put him out of his misery.

“It doesn’t bother me that you’re a werewolf.” I reached over to pat his thigh. “I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t just have my entire world view shifted, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

His cheeks turned scarlet. I’d bet that if he’d still been a wolf his tale would have been wagging. “And, um, how do you feel about me?”

“I like you, beyond that, don’t push it.” I smirked and he chuckled, finally relaxing. “So, what made you decide to reveal this?”

He rolled his shoulders and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I . . . like you a lot. I could see things between us getting serious, so I don’t want to start them out with a lie. Even one of omission.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my hand where it braced on the blanket. A tiny spider crept towards my thumb, and I flicked it away. I’d decided after my last break-up with an immature jerk who refused to commit that I wanted someone who was in it to win it. It was refreshing to hear someone be that straightforward, but I hadn’t been expecting it. “So, anything else I need to know?” 

Sam took a big, nervous breath. What could he have to say that was bigger than being a werewolf? “So, along with werewolves, magic is a thing. As a creature of magic, I’m prone to . . . feelings. Some call them animal instincts but it’s more than that. We can sense things that we shouldn’t be able to. One of those things that I’ve seen but never experienced before, um, you, is the, um, mating call.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what is the mating call?”

His face was so red and his head was ducked so low he looked like a vulture. “It’s where, through magic, we recognize someone who would be a good mate.”

I frowned. He couldn’t be serious. “So it’s, what? Love at first sight?”

Sam was startled into a snort. “What? No. That is a myth. This is more like a magical dating algorithm. Like any relationship, it requires work.”

“So you’re saying that you’re magic told you that we were highly compatible, and you should swipe right?” I snorted. This was ludicrous. 

He looked down at the grass and ripped up a handful. “Kind of. I asked you out because I’m lonely and well, I’d heard a lot about you. I think your dad was trying to set us up and I wasn’t opposed. You sounded pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, well, Dad’s partial.” My lip curled involuntarily. I knew it. I wasn’t mad, but I knew Dad was up to his old tricks.

“He’d made a big deal about you watching his house while he was gone, and I’d planned to find a time to introduce myself anyway. When I saw you from the park . . .” Sam licked his lips and blushed. “It was like getting hit with a ton of bricks. I always thought other wolves were exaggerating when they said things like that, but it’s true. It’s not love, but it’s like I knew how all the things your father told me about you fit into my life. From there, it would be really easy to make it love, and, uh, it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”

The sheepish, hopeful grin he gave me was painfully cute, but the cogs in my head were turning so fast I was surprised I couldn’t smell smoke. I needed time to think, but I didn’t want to accidentally burn any bridges. I bit my lip for a second then said, “I’m going to need to mull this over. How about we eat dessert first, then talk more about us.”

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Sharon’s Note: I don’t like most horror pacing. Tension is great, but a lot of horror waits too long and thing gets boring. It’s like in a movie, the camera zooms in on a character’s face. And stays there. Forever. I’m a story driven reader. Staring at a character being scared does nothing for me. Warning: Author is wondering why a lot of the flaws in romance are the same in horror. It’s not related to anything, it’s just weird.

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A small light popped into being as Ernie struck a match. He lit a lantern that looked about a hundred years old, but was way brighter than I would have expected. I turned off the flashlight to save the batteries. In the flickering light, the room looked more creepy than it did with the flashlight. 

It was half office, half bedroom. A desk and filing cabinets sat at one end, a small, institutional type bed, a battered old arm chair and a small bookshelf on the other. Ernie gestured at the chair, so I sat.

“What do you want to know?” Ernie grunted.

“Everything!” I pulled out my phone, almost bouncing. This was the interview of a life time. “Tell me your story? Who are you? What was your relationship with McBride? What kind of things did you see while this place was functional?”

The look he gave me almost had me apologizing but he and Kathy exchanged glances and he cleared his throat. “I’m afraid my part in the history of this place might disappoint you. Of course you’ve heard that I’m McBride’s bastard son?”

“Yes.” I was typing as fast as I could, thumbs fumbling at the screen. I would have loved to record, but I didn’t know if ghosts could be recorded. 

“Not true.” When my eyes snapped up, he chuckled. “My parents were married. My father dallied with her when they were younger, and she got pregnant. If his parents had found out, they would have cut him off. Despite his many other sins, my father did have a sense of honor, so they were secretly wed. She died when I was fifteen, and I was given a job here.”

“So, why was there so much animosity between you two?”

“Other than his refusal to acknowledge me? How about the monstrosities he committed?” He shook his head and Kathy walked over to put a hand on his shoulder and he gave her a grateful smile. “Mostly it was the fact that he killed me.”

“Why? What happened?” I had to smother my excitement. I didn’t want to seem insensitive. 

“I am not normal. While I am not the mutant that Kathy had told me legend paints me as, I had many physical problems when I was alive. My father decided that one of his experiments would fix me. It was a long, painful death. For days I suffered infusions and transplants. When I finally expired, he burned my body and buried me in a mass, unmarked grave with the other experiments.” He stared at the ground while he spoke, eyes unfocused, shoulders so tense they shook. There was a new scent in the air like formaldehyde. 

I nodded, happy I could provide some comfort. “They found those bones in the garden. All the bones were given a proper burial and-”

“There were two graves. The humans were buried in the garden. I was buried in the other one.”

“Ernie, she doesn’t need to know about them.” Kathy held up a warning finger, a hint of panic in her eyes. 

“Know about what?” I perched at the edge of my chair, looking between their faces. 

“Too late now.” Ernie grinned, but it was mean and a little mad. “Are you sure you want to know? Knowing opens a whole new, dangerous world.”

“Emphasis on the dangerous,” Kathy muttered.

I shrugged. “I have to.”

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