Paranormal University: Third Semester: An Unveiled Academy Novel

by Jace Mitchell

  “You wonder if he’s mad at us, you mean?” Remington asked.

  Lance shrugged. “That, and if being held by those witches messed him up. He didn’t let any of our psychiatrists look at him. Just took off as soon as everyone got back to Boston.”

  “He’s fine. If not, he will be. Frank isn’t one to let the world get him down. Plus…” Remington shook his head. “We’ve got enough to worry about. Like sitting out here all night and waiting for the sky to change.”

  “They should have sent somebody else,” Lance remarked.

  Remington didn’t disagree. “Depending on what we report back, they probably will. Low men on the totem pole, and all that.”

  Lance grumbled, “Low men my ass. Someone else should be out here.”

  The car grew quiet then, and hours passed in silence. Remington and Lance had been partners for a decade, and they didn’t need to fill the silence with needless chatter.

  The night grew darker, and Remington pushed his seat back. He rolled the window down and let Nebraska’s summer air into the car. Only the stars dotted the sky.

  “What if it’s just a rumor, and nothing is real about it?” Remington asked, already knowing what Lance would answer.

  “Then we wait all night and go report that tomorrow.”

  Remington grinned.

  At three in the morning, all the grinning stopped.

  Remington had been popping caffeine pills every hour on the hour to keep him awake, but now he needed nothing. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Neither he nor Lance said anything, they both simply opened their doors and stepped out onto the prairie, their eyes turned upward.

  Richard was lying in the grass a hundred feet away from the FBI vehicle. He wore tactical gear and had night vision binoculars. He watched the FBI agents get out of their vehicle and stare up at the sky. Richard looked as well, though that wasn’t his first concern now. The two agents in front of him were the recruiters —he knew them and their importance. They’d been involved in Boston and Miami.

  Killing them would be a huge win.

  He could deal with the sky once they were dead.

  Neither knew he was here. He’d arrived before them, knowing the precise location of the Veil tearing, and simply waited. He’d been lying in wait like a predator for hours. Now his prey was distracted, and he could do what he came to do.

  Richard could have used a rifle with a scope to kill them, but he didn’t want this to look like a professional hit. He would use his blade and then take their wallets and watches. The news would write it up as a robbery.

  Richard rose to his feet but remained low. He darted through the night, his blade out.

  Remington didn’t turn to Lance as he spoke, his eyes remaining on the sky. “This doesn’t look like anything we’ve seen before.”

  “No. This is different,” Remington responded.

  Streaks of lightning flashed across the sky at a rapid rate, despite no rain clouds anywhere around. Even weirder, the lightning wasn’t touching the ground. Remington was no meteorologist, but he thought it odd, to say the least.

  And that wasn’t even the most amazing part.

  The sky was…

  Deteriorating was the only word that came to Remington’s mind. It looked as if the very fabric of reality was fading, like an ancient, threadbare sheet.

  Goosebumps rose on his arms, but he hardly felt them or the chill that ran down his back.

  Remington didn’t like what he saw. The sky was still there, but wherever lightning flashed, he could somehow see through it. Massive caverns filled with flowing rivers existed just beyond the starry landscape above him. He saw people wailing and others laughing maniacally. Red-tinted darkness reveled in that place, and shadows and flames danced everywhere.

  “What is it?” Lance whispered, though his voice traveled in the silence of the prairie.

  “Somewhere beyond the Veil,” Remington answered. “Part of whatever exists beyond, at least.”

  Remington reached into his pocket and pulled out his FBI issued cell phone. He needed video—when the FBI sent others out here next, they would use professional equipment.

  He turned the camera up to the sky and pressed record. Remington felt like he could stare at this forever, its majesty was so grand, but part of him thought he might also go insane if he did.

  Lance’s voice ripped through the majesty. “Watch out!”

  Remington turned, dropping his phone and reaching for his pistol. There wasn’t time. All he could do was try to avoid the blade slashing at his throat.

  He moved backward, slamming into the car.

  Lance slid over the front of the car, his own gun out and ready to fire.

  The man attacking Remington kneed him in the groin before turning his attention to Lance.

  Lance raised the pistol to fire, but the assailant slapped his hand upward. The bullet sang into the distance, and the gun fell to the grass.

  Remington looked up from the ground, still moaning and holding his crotch. The attacker moved like the wind, almost unfathomably fast.

  Lance was backing up and trying to defend himself from the blade. “A little help here, partner!”

  Remington groaned but got to his feet. The world swayed around him, and he felt woozy.

  “Any time now!” Lance shouted as he dodged a slice at his gut. The assailant came in with an uppercut next, which connected with Lance’s jaw.

  Remington pulled his pistol out and aimed at the attacker’s back. It was tough to see in the darkness, and the man was moving so quickly, he wasn’t sure he could fire without hitting Lance.

  The assailant swept at Lance’s leg and brought him to the ground. “Gonna pull that damn trigger?” Lance screamed.

  The foe looked over his shoulder. His face was painted black, and Remington could see very few details of his features. “Everything you know is going to end,” the man told him.

  Remington froze, his finger not pulling on the trigger though it should have. In this enemy’s eyes, he saw death personified. Lance was scrambling for his pistol, but Remington was held by the man’s eyes and unable to move.

  The man whirled, his movements faster than Remington or Lance’s would ever be. He threw his knife, and it sailed end over end. Remington dropped to the ground and barely missed being impaled. He didn’t pause this time, though, and immediately aimed his pistol where the man had been standing.

  No one was there. He jumped to his feet and scanned the area, but it was as if the man had simply disappeared into the darkness.

  Lance was up on his feet again, his weapon scanning just as Remington’s did. “What the fuck was that?” he whispered. “Where did he go, and who the fuck was he?”

  Remington’s groin felt like a bunch of munchkins were inside his pants playing volleyball with his nuts. Unable to stand up straight any longer, he bent over and placed his hands on his knees. “We’ve got to get out of here. We’re sitting ducks if he’s got a rifle.”

  Both agents got into the vehicle and sped off across the prairie. They heard no shots ring out, but Remington couldn’t stop thinking about the man’s eyes.

  About how deadly the enemy was.

  Chapter Three

  Jack thought he would enjoy his two-week summer vacation, but it was only three days in, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the university.

  It wasn’t simply that he didn’t like being home—although, he didn’t—but he also missed Claire, Marissa, and… Well, and Samantha. He found himself thinking about her a lot, plus the fact that she’d spurned most of his advances only made him want her more.

  Regular life was just so…

  Boring.

  He watched his parents wake up each morning and go to work. He watched them sit down at dinner in the evenings and discuss their day. He listened to their conversation and wondered, How do people live like this?

  Jack wanted to get back to the university, but he had another eleven days before that was possible. The
ghosts in Miami hadn’t scared him away, but rather, it had left him even more enthralled.

  “You’re becoming an adrenaline junkie,” Marissa had told him before they left for their short vacation.

  Perhaps he was, but at this point, he couldn’t help it. He should have died up there on that roof—twice—but he didn’t care. He should have scars across his body from the third-degree burns, yet Claire had forced the remaining witch to heal him using her spells.

  Maybe that’s why he was so obsessed. Because he hadn’t faced a whole lot of consequences for his endeavors.

  Ehhh, he thought, pulling up his shirt sleeve to see the scar he still wore from the vampire. Maybe not.

  Given his boredom and inability to quit considering school, Jack did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed his iPad and scrolled through the news. He didn’t care so much about what was on TV. The major news networks were still sending reporters to Miami to talk about the ghosts. It was stupid, really, like when they send reporters into hurricanes to talk about the wind and rain.

  “Yeah, Chet, there’s a lot of rain, and it’s super windy down here. I would not recommend anyone standing here in this, even though I’m doing exactly that.”

  The ghost reporting was pretty much the same.

  To get any new news about the Veil, you had to search the web. It didn’t take Jack long to find something interesting.

  “Holy shit,” he exclaimed, jumping up from the living room couch. He whipped his head around to see if his parents were here, but then quickly remembered it wasn’t a weekend, and both were at work. He sat down and turned back to the video playing on the iPad.

  Some kids had recorded it, and they were yelling expletives the entire time. Jack turned the volume down to focus on the actual video.

  The sky was dark, yet in a single section, lightning was streaking across it. No clouds. No storms. Just white lightning shooting to and fro with no true origination point.

  But that wasn’t what caused Jack’s heart to pick up speed. It was what he saw…

  Behind the sky, he thought. There’s no other way to put it. I’m looking at something behind the sky.

  Rationally, he knew that wasn’t true, but that was what it appeared to be. The sky was thinning, and he saw a world behind it—a hellish looking place, with shadows and cliffs and long rivers with a boat paddling through them.

  Jack watched the video until it ended, then looked down at the name of it.

  THE SKY IS RIPPING APART—VEIL, OR CONSPIRACY THEORY?

  “Stupid hoaxers,” he mumbled. They were constantly trying to say Mythers and the Veil were some kind of government conspiracy.

  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He found Claire’s number quickly.

  She answered it on the second ring. “Someone had better be dying. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to talk to you until I got back.”

  Jack deadpanned his respond. “Marissa’s dead.”

  A silence stretched out over the line for a few seconds. Jack let it ride, smiling on his side of the call.

  “Fuck you,” Claire replied.

  He laughed. “Gotcha! You should really be nicer when I call. No, no one’s dead, at least not as far as I know. But, do you have an iPad or a tablet around you?”

  Claire sighed. “Jack. You’re calling a landline right now. It’s the only phone in my house. I don’t even have a cell phone. Do you think I suddenly got an inheritance and a tablet?”

  Jack smiled. “I forget that I’m talking to the poor. It’s always grand when I come down from my tower and frolic amongst the proletariat. Well, if you did have a tablet, you’d see that the sky is tearing apart.”

  “The what?” Claire asked.

  Jack hit play again on his tablet. “Yeah. I’m looking at a video right now that’s showing the sky ripping apart in places, and to be honest, it looks like hell is on the other side.”

  Another pause came across the phone, and then Jack heard Claire’s leader voice. He didn’t think she knew it existed, but it definitely did. The voice that said she was in charge, and people should start listening or else.

  “Is it on the TV?”

  “Do you have a TV?” he asked jokingly.

  “Careful, Jack-ass. Is it on TV?”

  He heard voices coming from her side of the call, probably because she’d went ahead and turned on the television.

  “I don’t think so,” he told her. “They’ve only been covering Miami for a month. This looks like some kids out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Damn it,” she cursed. “I’ll have to ride my bike to the library, but no, I haven’t seen anything.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t worry about it unless Remington and Lance show up. We’ll be back in school soon, but I just wanted to see what you thought.”

  He could picture Claire rolling her eyes when she spoke next. “I’m gonna worry about it. Gotta see if my bike’s tires are pumped up, or else I’ll have to take the bus. Wish freakin’ Frank was here and he could just teleport me.”

  “You heard from the green maniac?” Jack asked.

  She sounded sad when she answered. “Not a peep.”

  “I’m sure he’s just relaxing. All right, I know you have to go scrub kitchen floors and toilets, or whatever it is the wretched poor do, and my butler is about to bring me caviar and champagne before I head out for some tennis and eighteen holes of golf. I’ll see ya in a little over a week, Captain.”

  “Thanks for calling, Jack-ass. I’ll let you know if anything changes on my end,” Claire answered, probably rolling her eyes again.

  Jack hung up and discarded the phone on the couch. He wouldn’t call Marissa about this. She would only worry unnecessarily. Instead, he restarted the video and watched it again, getting more excited with each passing second.

  What in the hell does this mean? he wondered, and then, I don’t think this summer semester is going to be boring.

  Chapter Four

  The witch lived in a glass cell, more or less. It had a bed, an area sealed off with a toilet and sink. She had a couch, a chair, and they brought her books once a week.

  In some ways, life in her cell was better than most prisoners had it. In other ways, it was worse. The witch had no cellmates to talk with. She never went outside. Never saw the sun. She didn’t have exercise time, and she had no access to lawyers.

  She’d technically been designated an enemy combatant, thus due process didn’t apply to her.

  Doctors came and went, psychologists, scientists, and FBI agents, too—all of them trying to understand more about her, the cult behind her, and of course, Mythers.

  What kept her trapped more than the doors and locks were spells. One of those students who’d beaten Tina and Marilyn had learned enough from the Book of Shadows to cast a spell across the entire building, rendering Tina’s magic useless. She’d seethed at this realization, but there was nothing she could do.

  The two main FBI agents rarely went to see the witch anymore. They’d interviewed her early on, but she hadn’t given them anything, and everyone else who visited her was getting just about the same.

  Yet, they needed to talk with her about the sky in Nebraska. Neither Remington nor Lance thought she’d tell them anything, but they had to check.

  Tina had chains attached to her arms and legs when they entered her glass cell—protocol anytime there were visitors.

  They’d entered moments before, and now she sat in her chair and them on the couch. A little, circular table that was bolted to the floor sat in between them.

  Lance looked around the cell. “It’s not a bad set up you got here. Spacious for jail.”

  Tina only stared at them.

  Remington reached forward and placed his phone down on the table. “This is a video I took two nights ago.” He pressed play.

  The witch looked down at the phone, watching the images unfold. When the video ended, she simply looked back up, her eyes showing nothing.

 
“What is it?” Remington asked.

  The witch didn’t answer.

  Lance again looked around the room. “You know, we could make life a lot harder for you here. These chairs, that bed, this large room. It could all disappear.”

  Still, the witch remained silent.

  Remington leaned back in his chair and studied her. “You haven’t said a word since we woke you up, Tina. Not to us. Not to anyone else. Tell me, why are you so loyal to this cult? Have they attempted to break you out of here? Have they tried to set you free? No. You’re here, stuck, and never going to leave. We can make things harder for you, or we can make them easier. It’s really up to you.”

  The witch only raised an eyebrow, her message clear. Why are you still talking?

  “Someone else was there,” Lance continued. “We didn’t get a video of him, unfortunately, but he was…formidable. Someone you might know?”

  Tina leaned back in her chair and yawned.

  Remington chuckled. “I would have killed you, just so you know. It’s only because Claire has a soft heart that you’re still alive. But, Tina, there’s still time. Accidents happen.”

  Lance stood. Remington took his phone from the table and then followed suit. This is what they figured would happen, but they had to try.

  Next stop, the university.

  Tina watched the agents leave while holding her silence. The glass doors shut automatically, and she was alone once again.

  That was a part of Tina’s life she was coming to know well—being alone.

  The FBI fuck-sticks were right. The cult wasn’t coming to help. She was stuck here, perhaps forever. Or at least until this war was over, which Tina was counting on. Because when the war ended, she knew which side she was on, regardless of what happened with Marilyn or this current predicament.

  At least, that’s what she had thought.

  Then the fuck-sticks showed up and showed her that video.

  They’d asked her what it meant, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell them if she wanted to.