Hauntings: Two Tales of the Paranormal

By Skyla Dawn Cameron and Dina James

A drafty old house, or the steps of a creature lurking in the dark? 
A trick of the light, or is the shadow in the corner of your eye something more?
A natural wind, or was that a whisper in your ear?

Read two tales of haunted houses that are not what they seem from (evil) paranormal authors Dina James and Skyla Dawn Cameron.

In RITUAL, a novella in Dina James' Key to Hell series, Kyle Carillron knows every trick across the realms when it comes to dealing with the supernatural. Once a demon himself, the vampire has seen it all. When a divine assassin, half-angel Sebastian, comes to him with a scrap of paper discovered in a supposedly haunted house where some teenagers are playing Ouija, he can't help but roll his eyes. But the paper has an unfamiliar symbol on it, written in human blood. Very little on the planes mystifies Kyle, but upon investigating the premises, he discovers evidence of a ritual with far with deeper consequences than humans attempting to contact the souls of the departed.

ASHFORD'S GHOST follows part-time adventurer and full-time mom Olivia Talbot in a novella continuation of Skyla Dawn Cameron's Livi Talbot series. Four months ago, Livi successfully killed the afreet who abducted her family and tried to murder her. Then she took over his villa and made it her base of operations/home, as any respectable treasure hunter in need of better digs is wont to do. But this house is haunted, and she’s starting to think the ancient murderer she used the Seal of Solomon to destroy might not be entirely dead after all. Isolated in the house by a violent snowstorm, Livi is trapped with a dark force gathering strength by the hour, threatening not only the safety of her family but possibly her very sanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skyla Dawn Cameron
• Release date: Jun 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781927966259

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Hauntings

Two Tales of the Paranormal

Dina James

Skyla Dawn Cameron

Hauntings: Two Tales of the Paranormal

Ritual copyright © 2017 by Dina James

Ashford’s Ghost copyright © 2017 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2017 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

1st Edition: June 2017

eBook ISBN: 978-1-927966-25-9

Print ISBN: 978-1-927966-24-2

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Ritual

Dina James

#

Kyle Carillron knows every trick across the realms when it comes to dealing with the supernatural. Once a demon himself, the vampire has seen it all. When a divine assassin, half-angel Sebastian, comes to him with a scrap of paper discovered in a supposedly haunted house where some teenagers are playing Ouija, he can't help but roll his eyes. But the paper has an unfamiliar symbol on it, written in human blood. Very little on the planes mystifies Kyle, but upon investigating the premises, he discovers evidence of a ritual with far with deeper consequences than humans attempting to contact the souls of the departed.

Ritual

Kyle glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. That felt like— The barest hint of a smile touched his lips as the unique presence caressed the protective wards that surrounded his estate. He lifted a hand in a careless, elegant gesture, parting the barrier at his front door.

A tall figure in a dirty, tattered, white t-shirt worn loosely over faded denim jeans entered the foyer. As it lifted a hand in greeting, a bare wooden crucifix suspended from a string of matching beads tapped lightly against the sleeve of a leather jacket that had seen better days forty years ago. Gratitude, my lor—er...Kyle.

Sebastian, Kyle said. To what do I owe the unwashed pleasure?

The man lifted his elbow to his nose and inhaled. Whoa. Yeah, sorry about the reek. I didn’t exactly have time to devote to cleansing before getting out of there. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In moments his more-gray-than-white t-shirt was back to the shade it was intended to be and mended, the spots of mystery substance on his jeans vanished, and his olive skin unblemished by streaks of what had very likely been some sort of bodily fluid. Better?

Much, said Kyle. Pray continue.

Sebastian’s lips thinned at the barely-concealed mockery of his former religious vocation. I’ve got something here I haven’t seen before. Thought you might have, given your...background.

No need to dissemble, Sebastian. I am not ashamed of my origins, said Kyle. My current incarnation is somewhat of an annoyance, but given the conditions of my previous one, it is a significant improvement.

Given the choice, I’d take being a vampire over a demon in any lifetime.

The temperature of the room dropped. Kyle’s sea-green eyes narrowed. I was not given a choice.

Sebastian held up his hands. The rosary tapped against the leather again. I meant no offense. The weight of Kyle’s stare did not lessen for several audible heartbeats. Sebastian reached inside his jacket, which, despite his previous tidying, had remained in its perpetual state of wear. He pulled out a scrap of paper. It’s the demon I need to speak to, not the vampire.

I am a demon no longer, as you well know, and I prefer the more accurate term of lost soul in regards to the latter, said Kyle.

But you still have the knowledge of your old life, said Sebastian. If you can’t help me, I’m not sure if anyone can.

Your Celestial ally is no use to you then?

Sebastian shook his head. This isn’t really his area of expertise. Besides...I know this isn’t angelic script, nor is it about redemption. At least, I don’t think it is. Please?

Kyle held out a hand and twitched two fingers. Sebastian crossed the room, the paper offered as far as he could stretch. Kyle kept his piercing gaze on the priest for a moment longer then lowered it to the symbol sketched in a familiar dark brown ink. His brow arched. Blood? Where did you find this?

In a house.

It was Kyle’s turn to scowl. A little less vague, if you please. You came to me, remember.

Sebastian sighed. You’re going to laugh.

Kyle waited.

Sebastian squirmed. A haunted house.

He was right. Kyle did laugh, in addition to the base human gesture of rolling his eyes.

I’m not kidding! said Sebastian. I was called in by...someone...with concerns about this particular location, and the goings on there, and when I investigated, I found this. Well, this, and others like it. This was the only one unfamiliar to me.

As much as it pains me to admit, it’s unfamiliar to me also. Whatever this is, wherever you found it, it’s likely new, or a variation on the old. Kyle gestured to a broad stroke along the center of the paper. This piece here looks similar to a symbol used in a summoning, but if that’s so, it’s been altered. To what purpose, I’ve no idea. You said there were others? How were those familiar to you?

From...from my days as a priest. Nothing spectacular. The usual when kids get bored. You know...Satanic iconography. Goats heads and inverted crosses, said Sebastian. He closed his eyes and crossed himself.

Kyle laughed again. It never ceases to amuse me that humans believe turning an instrument of torture upside down somehow invokes my father, when the truth is the complete opposite, thanks to the martyrdom of Peter.

Saint Peter wished to be crucified upside down because he did not feel worthy of a death similar to Christ’s, said Sebastian.

And yet the Romans continued to crucify all and sundry that way for hundreds of years after. It was a political statement, reserved for civil crimes—to make an example of someone—not for anyone of particular importance. The Son was put to death that way in order to discredit his claim to be such, said Kyle. The Romans did love their means of torture, didn’t they, Sebastian?

Sebastian looked at the floor. I am no saint.

The Church and countless faithful would beg to differ, said Kyle. You are the patron saint of soldiers, archers, athletes, and a holy death. I find that rather fitting, given your current incarnation, Nephilim.

I am no saint, Sebastian said again, lifting his head. If the Church thought my deeds an example of serving God, that is their choice. Who they find worthy of beatification and canonization has nothing to do with consulting the person themselves. Living saints are extraordinarily rare.

Yet here you are. Tell me, do you hear their prayers? Intercede on their behalf, as saints are thought to do?

You know full well I do not. I cannot speak for those who have ascended, said Sebastian.

I am still in awe that you were a priest of the Inquisition for decades yet never recognized yourself in your own pantheon, said Kyle. Technically, you worshiped yourself. Prayed to yourself. Now that is true hubris.

It was Sebastian’s turn to roll his eyes. Sebastian—the saint, not me—wasn’t one of the major saints in my area of practice. I didn’t pray to myself. I didn’t even know myself. Each incarnation comes with a nearly blank slate, more or less, and the name was mere coincidence to me. Now, will you please stop tormenting me? As you made more than obvious, I’ve had quite enough of torture in my lifetime.

Kyle smiled, keeping his lips closed over his elongated canines. Lifetimes.

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. Why did I come here?

You said you were investigating this supposedly haunted house at someone’s behest, said Kyle. Who would ask you of all people to do such a thing?

Angelina. She’s worried about some of her...housemates.

Kyle’s brow rose. Your young clairvoyant. How are her studies progressing?

Well. She’s learned to shield—for the most part—and to ask permission before reading an aura or looking into a soul. She’s sleeping better now she can block outside influence, and those who would prey upon her vulnerabilities are finding it more of a challenge to do so, said Sebastian. I set up wards around her house as an extra precaution.

Excellent, said Kyle. The sooner she has mastery over her empathic abilities, the less chance my former brethren will exploit her. Though it seems, according to this—he gestured at the bloody symbol on the paper Sebastian still held—it may be too late. She is concerned about her housemates, you say. And she brought her concerns to you? Please explain.

That...might take a while.

Kyle gestured to one of the two eighteenth century wingback chairs placed in front of the hearth. Sebastian went to it and sat on the edge of the seat.

Would you like something to drink? Or perhaps nourishment?

Sebastian shook his head. Though I am capable of eating now, and during those first few days of my most recent awakening indulged far too much in the habit, I find it more of an annoyance than a requirement. I still enjoy respite, however. A drink would be welcome.

Anything in particular?

Sebastian looked around the room. He didn’t see a bar or decanter set.

Really, Sebastian, said Kyle, manifesting an empty glass in his hand. How easily you’ve forgotten.

The Nephilim laughed. Scotch, then. Neat. The glass filled with a rich amber liquid and Kyle offered it to his guest. Sebastian raised it to him and took a sip. My gratitude. This is extremely smooth.

A vintage from a bygone estate, said Kyle. Fortunately it ages exceedingly well. Now, tell me your tale.

#

Sebastian upended the glass and swallowed the last sip in it. So there you have it.

Kyle, sitting elegantly in the chair opposite him, steepled his fingers and rested them against his chin. Four males, you say? No females?

None, said Sebastian.

How did Angelina come by her suspicions?

Sebastian sighed. As I said, she is learning to shield herself and control outside influences, but she is still just learning. Things slip through, especially stronger emotions and presences, and she said one of the boys had ‘gone dark.’ I asked her to clarify, and she couldn’t put it into words that made sense to me, or liken it to anything I have experienced. Hence my request for your input.

Please show me that symbol once more, said Kyle.

Sebastian pulled the paper out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it.

Kyle leaned forward and held his hand out. May I?

Of course. Sebastian gave him the wrinkled scrap of torn paper.

Kyle sat back and held the thick sheet up, looking at it with firelight against the back. He drew two fingers over the familiar part of the symbol, closing his sea-green eyes for a moment as his fingertips rested against the blood. This isn’t recent. And I don’t merely mean the fact that the blood they used as ink is dry. I mean this was made some time ago. Twenty, maybe thirty years. It’s difficult to be precise with so little. He opened his eyes. Four men—well, boys, but past the age of accountability so men in the eyes of Ethereals—evidence of what humans consider the occult...I would venture to say you are looking at someone attempting to contact the Hell Realm. For what purpose, I cannot say, but given their age, station, and species, it is likely for sex, money, or power. Or all three. I would not concern yourself overmuch, however.

Why not?

Kyle turned the paper around and held it up to the hearth so that the firelight illuminated the dark symbol on the other side. He smiled. This symbol is not only reversed, it’s upside down. He rotated the paper top to bottom. The age of it provided the answer. Satanic cults and rites were all the rage a generation or so ago. While most of it was complete nonsense designed to concern parents about their moody teenagers and make the evening news report interesting, some actually did attempt dark practices. I say ‘attempt’ because that’s all they were—perverted forms of Catholic rites meant to invoke the Devil with sacrilege. None of it ever worked, of course, but I’m certain it was very convincing to a bunch of bored teenagers. Likely one of your miscreants found something about the great Satanic Panic on the Internet and decided to recreate a rite he found on some idiotic forum. The true summoning ritual is vast and complex. It’s not something a handful of young men could accomplish. He offered the paper to Sebastian.

The former priest took it, folded it along the previous creases, and returned it to his pocket. What does the group being male have to do with it?

Kyle sat back in the chair and steepled his fingers again. That’s the only part of this that may be of concern. For a summoning ritual to be properly performed, the souls must be homogeneous. That is, all the energies must be identical and equal. Female life force burns brighter. This was—and still is—mistakenly understood that females were prohibited from religious rites because they were weak or profane, when the truth is they’re merely disruptive because they overpower the light of the male. It’s not to say they are the more powerful—both male and female essences are equal in potency, and merely differ in their strengths. For rituals such as summoning, all offerings must be equivocal. All males, or all females. All female rites are experiencing a resurgence these days, which is quite a feat given how forcefully males tried to quell them a scant few hundred years ago. Male humans have always resented the female ability to more easily channel their spirits. Was Angelina approached by these young males?

Sebastian shook his head. She merely had concerns. Rightly so, in my opinion.

You’re a priest, and an allied Nephilim. Of course you would have concerns. Kyle got to his feet and lifted his hand. Come. Show me this haunted house of yours and we shall allay them.

Sebastian got to his feet and shook his head. All right, but no laughing.

I make no promises. Humanity never ceases to amuse me.

#

You didn’t mention the Ouija board, said Kyle, surveying the room with a dubious glance. Really, Sebastian.

I knew if I did, you would just dismiss my apprehension as nonsense.

I should like to think I would have at least listened to you before dismissing it as nonsense, said Kyle. After all, you do not subject yourself to my presence lightly.

Sebastian quelled a shudder. I mean no offense, my lor—...Kailkiril’ron.

Just Kyle will do, thank you. And none is taken, though do try and remember I am no longer your liege lord. Further, it is in your nature to be at odds with mine, however former it may be. Both as priest and as Nephilim. Your divine half rankles despite your humanity.

I am not sure which you find more deplorable, said Sebastian.

Your humanity, without doubt, said Kyle. Celestials and I have our differences, but humans are the real abominations. That I must feed upon them to maintain what existence I endure these days is beyond ironic.

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. Being a hyphenate has its drawbacks, that’s for certain.

A what?

Hyphenate. Two things made one. Humans do it with their surnames when joining in marriage betimes these days. It applies to us as well. I am an assassin-priest as well as a Celestial-human. You’re a vamp-...er...lost soul-demon. Or demonic lost soul if you prefer, said Sebastian.

I do not prefer, said Kyle. I am a former demon lord, exiled to live both with and upon the mortals I betrayed my father for. My creation was accidental. I assure you, had Lucifer known what taking the soul he had to give me meant, he would never have done so. I can also assure you he will never do so again.

Sebastian moved a small chest of drawers a few inches along the wall it rested against. To be fair, it’s not likely there will ever be the chance to make another, will there? Unless another demon falls in love with a mortal.

Kyle didn’t reply. His eyes went to a corner of the room, but Sebastian knew he wasn’t seeing what was there.

I thought you said your kind would never sully themselves by lying with a human, said Sebastian.

We would not. I did not. I never touched her, not even once, until...until that day. When we knew it was ending. I held her then, said Kyle.

So it was just love, then?

Kyle’s nod was so slight, it was almost imperceptible. "From the moment I saw her, something changed inside me. I could not be without her. It wasn’t desire as humans experience it. Not physical lust. I never once thought of her that way. Granted, there are incubi and succubi as you well know, and they are trained