Paramourtal: Tales of Undying Love and Loving The Undead

By Kevin Hosey

REVIEWS:

''A DELIGHTFUL BOOK of fairytales for grownups, atouch of paranormal and hearts that are touched by love.''-The Paranormal Romance Guild

"...TOUCHING, DEEPLY IMAGINATIVE and, in a word, spellbinding...I highly recommend these stories both for their heartwarmingcharacters and for the intensely imaginative escape they offer.In a word, this book is enchanting."-The Romance Reviews

"I LOVED IT! There is hot sexual tension....A recommended read."-Gina Gordon,Author of Wicked Ride

"...A WORLD THAT IS MAGICAL,yet terrifyingly romantic. It's that wonderful.-Ren Thompson,Writer and Reviewer

''TERRIFIC READ! Wonderful short stories,easy to read, and very entertaining.''-kndrdsol (on Amazon)

"GOOD GROUP OF STORIES...so poignant they brought tears to myeyes...I was pleasantly surprised with this anthology."-The Book Huntress

STORIES:

-"A Touch of Sand" by Nicole Brugger-Dethmers. The Sandman is forbidden to love humans. Then he gazes upon the enchanting face of Angeline and wonders why she stirs his cold heart.

-"Dark Legacy" by Elizabeth Ireland. As a teen, Katherine was saved by a mysterious lake spirit. Now she returns to that lake to face a dark family pact that may end her life.

-"The Fisherman's Wife" by K. Stoddard Hayes. In an Irish fishing village, Sean has the perfect life with his loving wife, Muireen. But then she discovers a very dark secret he’s hidden for years.

-"The Prince and the Spoon" by Kelly Wisdom. Walking in the park, Summer is attacked by strange fairy tale creatures who seem to know her. And then things really get weird.

-"The Flower of Hell" by Noree Cosper. When Gabriella, a demon hunter, meets the handsome Dimitri, it rekindles long forgotten desires. But those desires may get them killed.

-"His Familiar Touch" by L.K. Below. Unable to shift into her natural cougar form, Rikkita seeks the help of Derek, a mystifying man who may have the cure—for a price.

-"Of Fate and Fire" by Rebecca Rhielle. As a child, Eleia lost her family and village to savage marauders. Now, she falls in love with a beguiling stranger whose past is even darker than hers.

-"Sympathy From the Devil" by M.C. DeMarco. While protecting a soul from temptation, angel Ariel faces Forcas, a charming demon. And she soon learns her own soul may be at stake.

-"The Underlying Beat" by Evelyn Welle. After meeting the reclusive music composer Lee, Megan soon encounters mystifying forces that test both her sanity—and her heart.

-"Rain" by Kevin Hosey. When his wife leaves him, Kyle escapes to a mountain cabin. There he meets the beautiful Reanna, a mysterious woman who can only appear when it rains.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cliffhanger Books
• Release date: Oct 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458079503

Kevin Hosey

Kevin is an author, editor and cartoonist. His short stories have appeared in several publications, including two STAR TREK STRANGE NEW WORLDS anthologies (Simon and Schuster), GODS OF JUSTICE and PARAMOURTAL (both from Cliffhanger Books), HINT FICTION (W.W. Norton) and the sci-fi magazine, BEYOND CENTAURI. Kevin is a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. You can always find him on his website, participating in discussion panels at several speculative fiction conventions in Texas and signing books at Barnes and Noble.

Book preview

PARAMOURTAL

Tales of Undying Love and Loving the Undead.

Edited by

Kevin Hosey and Evelyn Welle

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Published by:

Cliffhanger Books, Dallas, Texas USA

Smashwords Edition (October 2010)

Cover and book design by Kevin Hosey

Copyright ©2010 by Cliffhanger Books

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without written permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places andincidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or areused fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead or undead is entirely coincidental.

Paramourtal is also available in print at most major online retailers.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the authors' works.

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For Terrelia, Christian and Kimberly. The heart and soul of everything I do.

—Kevin Hosey

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TALES

A TOUCH OF SAND

Nicole Brugger-Dethmers

DARK LEGACY

Elizabeth Ireland

THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE

K. Stoddard Hayes

THE PRINCE AND THE SPOON

Kelly Wisdom

THE FLOWER OF HELL

Noree Cosper

HIS FAMILIAR TOUCH

L.K. Below

OF FATE AND FIRE

Rebecca Rhielle

SYMPATHY FROM THE DEVIL

M.C. DeMarco

THE UNDERLYING BEAT

Evelyn Welle

RAIN

Kevin Hosey

About the Authors

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A TOUCH OF SAND

Nicole Brugger-Dethmers

Out of the night sky, above the sleepy English town of Ashborough, a whirlwind appeared. The column of rushing air and swirling sand hovered over a sprawling house near the center of the residential area. The wind abated, and Somnus, the Sandman, stepped out onto the roof.

He surveyed the land around him. Ashbourough stretched toward the horizon on all sides, giving way to the inky darkness of the forests on the periphery. He watched as his sand gnomes crept into the buildings through windows, doors and chimneys with heavy sacks of magic sand slung over their shoulders.

A grunting noise brought his attention back to the roof on which he was standing, and a pair of ropey, muscular arms belonging to a slumber servant appeared over the edge. The small, wrinkled man climbed to his feet, brushed his hands on his pants and then bowed.

My lord, he said. I apologize for coming to you yet again, but….

But you have encountered another human who refuses to sleep, Grummel? Somnus filled in when the gnome fell silent.

Grummel gave a slight nod of his head. Two, actually, he said. Down below, in the very house beneath our feet.

Somnus lowered himself to the windowsill below and crouched there, his hands against the windowpanes. Inside, two female humans huddled together with a single candle shared between them.

He watched and listened.

Angeline cupped her hand around the flickering candle flame and sat on the edge of the bed. Her younger sister Margaret climbed up next to her, eyes twinkling in the darkness.

Oh Angeline, are you not excited? Margaret asked, pulling her long blonde hair over her shoulder away from the candle. Imagine. Tomorrow you will be the fiancée of Edgar Lester!

I am delighted, Angeline said. She reached over and tucked a missed strand behind her sister’s ear. But remember, nothing is certain. Edgar has been very kind, and he has expressed a fondness for me, but who knows if that is enough to warrant a proposal?

Well, father will be happy to hear of it when he comes back to town. He once told me that if you do not marry by your twenty-fourth birthday, he is giving up on you and sending you to a convent.

Angeline laughed and pinched her sister’s shoulder. It is not my fault that other people have such high expectations. I would be just as happy with…. She trailed off. Her face flushed, and she turned her head away, hoping her sister would not notice in the darkness.

Margaret reached out and clasped Angeline’s wrist. You were about to say ‘Nicholas’! she exclaimed. As in the kitchen boy, right?

Of course not! Angeline retorted quickly. You are being absurd! And he is not a boy….

Margaret’s mischievous smile widened as she said, You think because I am only fifteen that I do not notice these things, but your feelings are so obvious even the dog knows. In fact, I think you have been in love with him ever since you two were children!

Angeline gave her sister an annoyed look. Was her partiality really that apparent? How embarrassing.

But what about Edgar? Angeline asked, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Do you like him?

Well, he is kind of a bore sometimes, Margaret admitted. And he cares way too much about his carriages….

Oh stop! Angeline pinched her sister again. A bore to you, maybe…though you are right about the carriages.

The girls giggled.

With a deep sigh, Angeline placed her candle on the bedside table and leaned back into her pillows. I am too anxious to sleep.

Close your eyes, and before you know it, morning will arrive.

Easy for you to say!

Well, I for one would like to have some rest! Margaret returned to her own bed and crawled under the covers. Goodnight!

Angeline blew out the candle. Goodnight, Margaret.

From his perch on the ledge, Somnus watched the candlelight disappear from the room. Placing his hand against a windowpane, he rearranged the particles of sand that made up the glass until a hole formed, allowing him access to the latch. He unlocked the window, pushed it open and entered the room.

Secure in the knowledge that humans could not see nor hear sand creatures, Somnus stood beside Margaret’s bed. The fair-haired child twisted and turned, as if trying to find a comfortable position.

Kneeling next to the bed, he whispered into her ear the words that would carry her off to sleep. To the shallows of dark, I release you.

From his side, he drew forth his special pouch of dreaming dust, the sand infused with the same magic that gave him the ability to move between his world and that of the humans. He applied a liberal pinch of the sand to Margaret’s closed eyes. Her breath eased into that of deep sleep.

Then he turned to the other occupant in the room. The dark-haired Angeline’s eyes were closed. But the smile on her face and her uneven breathing belied her wakened state.

Somnus prepared himself to kneel when Angeline’s eyes opened and seemed, for an instant, to focus on his. A laugh escaped her lips, and she placed a hand over her mouth with a glance at her sister’s bed.

He froze. That expression, the one that revealed a mind teeming with brightness, struck him like lightning. He had seen that look before. The dusty memory of a woman’s face, very much like Angeline’s, rose to the surface of his mind.

Gathering his thoughts, Somnus knelt beside the bed. He leaned forward, inhaling the fresh cotton scent of the linens and the delicate lavender of Angeline.

To the shallows of dark, I release you, he whispered. He dusted her eyelids with sand. She sighed once and then followed Margaret into sleep.

Thank you, Master, Grummel said from his place on the windowsill. I will do better next time.

Somnus simply nodded as his gaze followed the curves of Angeline’s profile. What was it about her that stirred long forgotten—?

Master? Are you…all right?

I am fine, Grummel, Somnus replied without moving. You may resume your work.

He heard Grummel slip out of the house. Instead of following, the King of Dreams remained by Angeline’s bed, head bowed.

In the morning, Angeline dressed quickly. She put on her best day dress, tied up her hair with blue ribbons and dabbed at her wrists and neck with lavender oil. Descending the stairs, she searched the house, calling for her mother and sister. Not finding anyone in the usual haunts and intending to ask the housekeeper as to the whereabouts of her family, she ventured into the kitchen. It, too, was empty, apart from the sooty, trouser-wearing backside and legs of a man sticking out of the oven.

Is Mrs. Brooks available? Angeline inquired.

The man jerked backward, head colliding against the roof of the oven with a dull thud. As he righted himself and grabbed a pile of cloth from a nearby chair, Angeline recognized Nicholas—and he was shirtless. Flushing, she averted her eyes. I beg your pardon, she began, sneaking a peek at Nicholas’ sleek muscles. Is your mother—

She went into town with Mrs. Humbert and Miss Margaret, Nicholas said quickly, throwing his shirt over his head and pulling it down. The Ladies Society is dining here tonight, and the larder is not stocked sufficiently. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders as Angeline faced him. Or so my mother says.

Mrs. Brooks would know best, she replied, smiling in kind. They looked at each other for some time without speaking.

If you are hungry, he said eventually, toast and strawberry jam and coffee are still on the sideboard.

Thank you, she said yet did not move.

He indicated the dirty oven. I should get back to work. This thing will not clean itself.

Of course. She turned to go.

Oh and Miss Humbert?

Yes?

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. My mother and I wish you all the happiness.

A sharp pain gripped Angeline’s heart.

Well, nothing is certain yet, she protested. I have not accepted…I mean, it is only conjecture—

You are far too modest, Nicholas stuck his head back into the oven, and Angeline forced herself to look away from his muscular backside. His next words, although muffled, were clear enough for her to catch. Any man of worth would be a fool not to try for your hand.

Heart beating erratically, Angeline escaped to the hallway. She took a seat on the stairs and buried her face in her hands. How could she ever accept another man when just the sight of Nicholas started her fingers trembling and the blood thrumming through her body?

From the front entryway came a knocking at the door. A maid rushed out of one of the side rooms and disappeared into the foyer. At the low-pitched rumble of a man’s voice, Angeline shot to her feet. The maid returned and informed her that someone was asking to see her.

Mr. Edgar Lester? Angeline inquired.

No, Miss, it is not. It is a courier from the Lester household….

Angeline went to the door, puzzled.

The messenger bowed. I have a letter for you, Miss Humbert. Mr. Edgar bade me deliver it directly to you.

Is he well?

Indeed, miss. The emissary said as he held out the correspondence.

Is he currently engaged? She gasped. I mean, with business?

The messenger looked uncomfortable. I believe this shall tell you everything you need to know, he said, holding the envelope a little higher.

Hesitating, she took the sealed paper. The runner for Mr. Lester bowed and retreated. Angeline ripped open the envelope and read its contents.

Dearest Angeline,

I am not a brave man, as this letter and its method of delivery may attest, and I beg your forgiveness. By the time you read these words, I will have departed Ashbourough for the family estate in Heyworth Heath, where my uncle has offered me a most exemplary position in his legal practice.

I am aware that our mutual acquaintances have been speculating on a potential alliance between our families. In truth, the thought has been much on my mind as of late, and if circumstances were different, I would not hesitate to engage myself to you. However, my new situation renders such a happy event unlikely to occur. I hope, in spite of this, you will remain a constant friend….

Angeline stopped reading. The paper dropped from her limp fingers and fluttered to the floor, taking with it Edgar Lester’s feeble attempts to retain her good opinion. She felt drained, as if her intended had thrust a hatpin into her heart and all the accumulated hopes and tender affections of the last year had rushed out.

Sensing a rising wave of tears, she snatched up the fallen letter and retreated into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Nightfall brought Somnus back to Angeline’s bedside. He sat on the edge of the mattress with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, still and silent. When Grummel appeared at the windowsill, he seemed startled. The gnome lowered his gaze to the floor.

Master, he said, surprise evident in his voice. I did not expect to find you here in—

I am having trouble understanding, Somnus said.

Understanding what, Master?

Humans, Somnus said. And their fickle emotions. Last night, this woman was…radiant. She glowed like the moon. And now….

He looked at Angeline and brought his hand to rest on the side of her face, cradling it in his long fingers. Her eyelashes fluttered. In her sleep, she gave a heavy, shuddering sigh.

Somnus shook his head. Her sorrow pains me deeply. He wiped his thumb over her tear-stained cheek. I want to take away this woman’s suffering. Perhaps then she will be full of light again.

Eyes closed, he leaned in, almost touching his nose to the sleeping woman. He did not move, and the room was silent.

I will take her, he said at last.

Master!

Sand swirled near Somnus’ feet. His legs, waist and shoulders dissolved into a windstorm. Angeline’s form began a similar deconstruction, and Grummel leapt to the bedside table.

I will take her to the Desert with No Name, Somnus said, a voice with no body. The remains of his hands cupped Angeline’s face, drawing it into his vortex. My castle in the Sand will welcome and heal her…and I will discover why she affects me so….

The next morning, Nicholas put on his hat and left Humbert House without notifying anyone of his departure. He could not take the wailing of the Humbert women or the screeching of his mother any longer. Panicking would not help Angeline. The constant barrage of concerned neighbors and clueless policemen was of no assistance, either.

Fire raged in Nicholas’ chest as he wandered the streets. Everyone around him moved insufferably slow, yet time seemed to advance too quickly, carrying him further and further away from Angeline.

A conversation Nicholas had had with friends the other night came back to him as he wracked his brain for who might help. The blacksmith’s son had talked about a woman who ran a pawnshop in the old Darrow district. She had an uncanny knack for finding missing people, though rumors of her meddling in witchcraft kept most folks away.

For all Nicholas cared, the woman could have been an outright practitioner of the black arts if she would help him save Angeline. He did not think he could stand another day of waking up without seeing her or reveling in the heat that consumed his body when they passed, nearly touching, in the narrow hallways of Humbert House.

He found the shop next to a derelict, unoccupied building. The bells over the door tinkled as he pushed his way into the dusty, cluttered room.

At the back of the store, an old woman sat rocking in her chair beside the counter. When Nicholas approached, the chair stopped, and an eerie silence pervaded the room.

Nicholas took off his hat and bowed to the woman, whose face flashed with surprise but reverted quickly to its look of impassivity.

Not many would bother with such civility to me, she said.

He hesitated but ventured, Am I not in the presence of an honorable lady?

The woman cackled, and he felt as if he had passed some sort of test.

You have a sweet tongue, child, the woman said, resuming her rocking. What is it that Madame Maria and her shop of horrors and delights can do for you this day?

I have heard of your…unique abilities, Nicholas told her. And I believe you are the only one who can help me.

Is that so?

Perhaps you have heard of the recent disappearance of Miss Angeline Humbert?

Indeed, I have.

The popular theory is she ran away because of some unfortunate news she received, but I have known Miss Humbert all my life. She would never do such a thing. I fear something much worse has happened.

And what brings you to that conclusion?

Nicholas squeezed the hat in his hands for a few seconds before saying, I do not know. The circumstances are strange to say the least. Both ladies of the house went to bed at the same time, but only Miss Margaret emerged in the morning.

The old woman rocked without saying anything, only staring into his face with unnerving intensity. Eventually, she nodded.

I may have something that will help you. She got up from her chair, disappeared into a back room, and returned with a small vial containing a bluish liquid. This is extract of poppy. Once imbibed, it will allow you to walk consciously through your dreams and thus traverse any distance. By placing something belonging to the lady under your pillow, you will visit her wherever she is. Desire enhances the potency of the extract, so I imagine you will have little difficulty in discovering her.

A half-laugh, half-gasp escaped from Nicholas at the brazen remark.

Oh do not be so shocked, she chuckled. When you are as old as I am, you learn how to read people very well. And you, my young sir, are vibrating with repressed passion.

He reached for the vial, but she pulled away.

After I find her, he replied, ears burning, what then?

You will be able to determine her location. But you cannot touch her nor take her back with you. I know of only one true dream walker, and I suspect you are not he.

Who—?

Morpheus, Somnus, Okanu…the Sandman, of course, she clarified. She grabbed his hand, placed the vial in it and curled his fingers around the glass, holding tight to his wrist. You will be traveling through the King of Dreams’ domain, wherever your end destination may be. I must warn you that he does not deal kindly with trespassers.

I will take that chance, he said, pulling away, if it brings me even one step closer to finding Miss Angeline. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. How much—?

Nothing, she interrupted with a smile. Your mission is noble, and business is not as slow as you might think.

Nicholas bowed once again and departed.

Angeline awoke and discovered herself in an unfamiliar four-poster bed. Dark, thick drapes cascaded from the corner posts, and gauzy curtains on three of the sides separated her from the rest of the dimly lit room. Heart pounding, she sat up and tore at the thin material until she fell out into the chamber.

A crackling fire in the hearth suffused the air with a dull orange light. Unrecognizable furniture lurked in the dim corners. As far as Angeline could see, the room contained no doors and no windows—just smooth, dark walls.

She scrambled to her feet just as a sound behind her brought her whirling around. Her eyes fell on a man seated in the chair by her bedside, unnoticed in her initial panic. She stood still as if rooted to the spot, heart in her throat.

After several minutes of silence in which no one moved, she relaxed a little. Perhaps she had imagined the noise, and maybe she had been wrong in her assessment of the figure as a man. She slid one foot forward, and then another until she stood in front of the chair.

He looked like a sculpture with his closed eyes and perfect form. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and the back of his hand supported his strong chin. When Angeline mustered up enough courage to touch him, she discovered his skin had the warmth of stones left in the sun but the texture, rough and gritty, of sand. He had high cheekbones and long lashes. But the dark auburn hair that fell across his forehead intrigued her the most. She could not figure out how someone had managed to chisel stone so delicately as to replicate real hair.

As she brought her hand up to feel a strand, the sculpture’s eyes opened, staring at her like dark, glittering topazes in the firelight.

A gasp escaped Angeline’s throat, and she stumbled backwards.

You are awake, the statue-like man said.

She nodded. Her heart pounded and flooded her ears with the sound of it, almost drowning out his words.

You slept well?

Angeline nodded again, unable to take her eyes off the man with skin like sandpaper. Where am I?

My castle. He volunteered no further information.

Who are you? Why am I here? She felt the panic escalate under the intensity of his unwavering stare.

I have many names, but your people call me the Sandman. He reached out as if to touch her arm, but she pulled away. After hesitating, he retracted his hand. You may call me Somnus, if you prefer.

Angeline’s eyes widened. But…you are just a story people tell….

The Sandman smiled. Surely that is an easier reality to swallow, but that does not make it the truth. Tell me, do you suffer much?

Excuse me?

You came to sleep with tears still fresh upon your lashes. I sense that you are distressed. Inside you…. He gestured at her. Darkness exists within you where once you had light.

I do not know how to answer you, she whispered. Am I your prisoner?

He looked startled, and stood up.

No, he said. Of course not. You are….I want to heal you. He walked to the fireplace and looked down into the flames. You awakened something within me. When I look at you…. As if unable to help himself, he turned to her and said with a touching tenderness, I feel I would perish to make you happy again.

She felt her face flush and said nothing in return.

Can you tell me why you make me feel the way I do? he asked.

I can no more do that, she said, than I could fly to the moon.

He was silent, his unreadable gaze on her face. After a time, he walked to the far wall where he opened a hidden door and exited.

She crossed the room and peered out, expecting to see the Sandman’s retreating back. The hallway was empty apart from flickering sconces and the shadows they cast on the sepia walls.

Taking a deep breath, she ventured into the passageway. She came upon another door and opened it, hoping it might be a way out, but it only led to another chamber. Unlike the one she woke up in, these quarters had a window, and daylight filtered through it. She raced to it and pressed her face to the glass. A