Paranormal University: Third Semester: An Unveiled Academy Novel

by Jace Mitchell

  Jack figured it must mean “situation report,” but he wasn’t about to ask.

  Again, no answer returned.

  Port turned to look at his men. “Head to the basement. Kids and FBI, fall in line behind.”

  “This isn’t good,” Jack whispered to Marissa as the soldiers moved by him. He did as he was told, taking up position behind the last Navy Seal, and the group made their way back down the stairs. They hung a right, the soldiers’ AR-15s at the ready.

  They reached the door to the basement, and Port gave a hand signal to stop.

  Port put his ear to the door and listened for a few moments. After a moment, he stepped back and raised his weapon, ready for cover fire. He gave a slight nod, and the second soldier yanked the door open and stuck his weapon into the stairwell.

  Jack was too far in the back to see much, but he watched as the line slowly descended.

  Someone’s gun went off in front of Jack. Then more bullets fired, the sound of automatic weapons filling everyone’s ears. Jack’s hand went to his pistol, but he still didn’t pull it out. He heard people screaming below, but he wasn’t close enough to see anything of substance, just the soldiers trying to force their way to the basement.

  “Fall back! Fall back!” The scream came from somewhere in the basement, barely loud enough to make it over the cacophony of bullet fire.

  “No, I don’t think you will.”

  The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, both from below and above.

  Jack heard something snarling below. The soldiers in front of him were still trying to push their way forward to get down to the basement, but all Jack could think was that they all needed to get the hell out of here.

  The gunfire ceased.

  “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Jack shouted, only able to hear men yelling indistinctly and the damn growling of a dog.

  “It’s Cerberus,” Marissa whispered behind him. “Hades’ dog.”

  And then the screams came—ruthless snarling mixed with human howls of excruciating pain.

  “Fall back! Fall back!” Port yelled from his place of cover fire, his arm waving wildly to indicate they head back the way they’d come.

  Jack turned, as did everyone else that wasn’t in the stairwell. Remington and Lance were in the lead, moving quickly with their AR-15s at eye level.

  “Fuck it.” Jack pulled his own pistol out. “Sissy, you ready to cast some spells because it sounds like that damned dog is getting closer.”

  The growls and screams were farther down the stairwell, no doubt about that.

  Marissa said nothing, just gripped the Book of Shadows in both hands.

  Remington and Lance reached the end of the hallway and immediately started firing their weapons.

  Marissa and Sam had stopped. Jack slipped past them, ready to fire. He moved to the edge of the hallway and turned quickly to target whatever the hell Remington and Lance were shooting at.

  Even through the green night vision, Jack understood he wasn’t staring at a man. This was the god Hades. Jack also understood his own mortality at that moment.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Once.

  Twice.

  And on and on, until his clip was empty.

  The god stood there smiling, unharmed. “You three can see me, just like they said. But some of the others, they can’t see anything.”

  Jack was out of ammo, and apparently, the FBI agents were, too. He looked to his right and immediately wished he hadn’t. Two of the Navy Seals were still alive on the floor. They were attempting to crawl away, their guns scattered among dead bodies. A massive dog stood over them. Its size would have been remarkable even if not for the three heads atop its neck.

  It walked up to the dying soldier and sniffed him with its left head.

  “FUCK YOU!” the man screamed.

  The dog tore into the soldier’s throat. Jack looked away. He heard the second soldier scream, and then only the sound of the dog panting. Everyone was dead except for the students and the FBI agents.

  Hades gestured like he was removing goggles. “Take those off.”

  Jack glanced at Remington. The agent stared straight at the god, his gun level.

  Hades twirled his finger in a forward wheel motion. “Go on. Take them off.”

  It’s not like we have much choice, Jack thought. He reached up and pulled the goggles from his face as the rest of his crew did the same. The hallway was instantly dark. He could see nothing, but he still heard the sound of that mutant dog panting.

  Click.

  The lights above blazed suddenly, causing Jack to squint. He could still see Hades at the end of the hall, his hand in the air and his fingers in the position of a finished snap.

  “You five can see Cerberus and me, but the others could not.” The god nodded as if this was quite profound information. “You three are the children they told me about. And you two?”

  He walked closer to the FBI agents, studying them with an odd smirk across his face.

  Lance exploded forward, the butt of his AR-15 swinging toward Hades’ head.

  Jack wasn’t completely sure he saw what happened next. The god moved, and to Jack, it looked like the rest of the world had slowed down. He saw “tracers” moving behind Hades—a continuous image that hadn’t actually caught up with where the god stood.

  Lance’s gun traveled into a space that Hades no longer inhabited. The god grabbed him by the back of his head and slammed him into the wall, breaking the plaster.

  Remington rushed forward to help his partner, swinging the butt of his gun just like Lance had.

  The god moved again, the same tracers following behind him, and again the world seemed to slow down in Jack’s perception. Remington didn’t make it a step before Hades held him and Lance by their hair.

  He rammed both their heads into the wall at the same time.

  Then he did it again.

  And a third time.

  The FBI agents collapsed to the floor when he let go. Hades turned and looked at the students.

  Jack’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Marissa, are you going to use that fucking book, or are we all just going to die?”

  She leaned forward so that he could feel her against his back. “I’ve been saying spells since I heard the first growl. I have them memorized. None are working.”

  Jack nodded. “Great, so death it is.”

  Hades walked forward with his dog doing the same on the other side, pinning the three students between the two. “I would like to speak with you all if you don’t mind.”

  Hades smiled, and Jack understood he was staring into the depths of Hell.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dean Pritcham put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”

  She couldn’t move at first, frozen by fear and sadness. She knew who she was looking at, despite their current injuries. Remington and Lance. Their faces were huge masses of purple bruising, and blood leaked from their mouths and ears. Remington’s right arm looked broken in at least two places, while Lance’s leg was bent at an unnatural angle.

  Dean Pritcham dropped to her knees. She didn’t know what to do, only that she needed to make sure they were still alive.

  Please, let them be okay, she thought frantically. Please, please, please.

  She put two fingers on Remington’s neck and felt a slight pulse, then moved to Lance’s. Again, she felt a pulse. Their hearts were beating, although only faintly.

  The dean looked around. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the university’s parking lot was nearly empty. She knew the time because she always arrived at five in the morning. How long have they been here? she wondered.

  She had dropped her purse when she first saw the agents. Now, she scrambled to it and grabbed her cell phone, then dialing 9-1-1 as quickly as possible.

  “What’s your emergency?” a woman’s voice came over the line.

  Dean Pritcham wasn’t allowed to see the agents for days. Once emergency services came and picked
them up, she’d made another call to the backup FBI connection. The bureau swept down on their agents and allowed no one to see or talk to them.

  “What about my students?” She had practically screamed into the phone. “Where are they?”

  The backup connection sounded calm in his response. “Dean Pritcham, we will explain all of that to you as soon as we can. I need you to trust that the missing students are our highest priority.”

  Missing students. That’s what they were, missing. Jack, Marissa, and Samantha.

  Dr. Byron had come to her office the same day it happened. “Do you think they’re dead?”

  Dean Pritcham’s face was solemn. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “Have you told Claire?” he’d asked.

  All she could do was shake her head. “I don’t even know how to get in touch with her if I wanted. But, no, no one has talked to her.”

  Dr. Byron didn’t berate her for sending the students. In fact, he said nothing else at all, just left her alone in her office.

  Three days after the agents showed up, the backup connection called her. “Okay, Dean Pritcham, you can see them now.”

  Dean Pritcham’s hand shook as she held the phone. “Where are they?”

  “They’re at a satellite location about an hour outside of Boston. Would you like us to send a car for you?”

  She nodded, though no one was in the room to see it. “Yes. Please hurry. Do we know anything about my students?”

  Again, the backup’s voice sounded very calm. “You’ll need to speak with Special Agents Remington and Lance about it. The car will be there to pick you up shortly.”

  The line went dead.

  She let Dr. Byron know where she was heading and that if anyone needed her, they’d have to wait until she got back. When the car arrived, she hopped in. After asking her name, the driver said nothing the entire trip, and neither did the dean.

  They reached the building, and Dean Pritcham asked if the driver would remain until she was finished. He nodded in return. She stepped out of the car. The building didn’t look like a hospital, but rather a small, one-story office park. There were cars parked in it, but she saw no one entering or exiting the building.

  It doesn’t matter, she thought. The longer you stand here looking, the longer the students are out there without help.

  Kristin walked through the front entrance into a reception area, and she showed the receptionist her identification. The older woman tapped a few keys on the computer, then gestured to the chairs against the wall. “Please wait there. Someone will be here shortly to get you.”

  Dean Pritcham did as asked. The minutes felt like an hour, but someone finally did show up for her. “Dr. Kristin Pritcham?”

  Kristin looked up at a man wearing a doctor’s jacket. “Yes, that’s me.”

  He gave her a smile. “I’m Dr. Fletch. No relation to the movie. Bad joke, I know. Would you like to come with me? We’ve been expecting you.”

  Dean Pritcham had already stood and walked to him. She didn’t bother extending her hand—she was far too anxious to even think of such formalities. “Yes, please take me to the agents.”

  The doctor opened the door to the back of the building and let her pass through it before taking the lead again. He talked as they walked. “Both agents suffered serious injuries. Agent Lance has a broken jaw, and it’s wired shut. Remington had a skull fracture, and we had him in a medically induced coma for a while, although he is out of it now. Both suffered other broken bones, but none that will alter their ability to communicate. Agent Lance is using a pen and paper, although his left arm is fractured. There were minor burns on both men, but again, nothing that should affect them long term.”

  They reached a door on the right, and the doctor turned to look at her. “They’re very lucky. They could have easily been killed, but they weren’t. You’ll be given an hour with them, and then you’ll have to leave. It’s important that they continue to rest.”

  Dean Pritcham sighed, then asked, “They’re going to be okay?”

  Dr. Fletch nodded. “Overall, yes. They’ll be okay. You go on in, and I’ll come back when the hour is up.”

  She turned to the door and drew up her courage. She didn’t really have much choice. She turned the door handle and stepped into the room, leaving the doctor outside. The room looked very different than the hallway. She finally felt as if she were in a hospital and not a cheap office center.

  Remington lay in one hospital bed, and Lance was in another. A privacy sheet was hung in the middle of them, although it had been pushed back against the wall. A television in the top corner of the room showed some sort of sports programming with the volume turned right down.

  Remington smiled. “Dean Pritcham, so glad you could make it. You’ll have to forgive Lance here. He’s not going to be able to talk for a while.”

  Dean Pritcham shook her head. “No apology necessary. Lance not talking is the greatest gift anyone could ask for.”

  Remington chuckled and then groaned. “You can’t make me laugh. It hurts too much.”

  She looked at Lance. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

  Lance nodded.

  Dean Pritcham grinned. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  Lance shot her the bird, which brought another laugh and a groan from Remington. “Seriously, you two stop it. This fucking hurts.”

  Dean Pritcham looked at the chairs behind her and took a seat. “They wouldn’t let me see you, and by ‘they,’ I mean whoever the hell runs the FBI and your program.”

  “We know,” Remington responded. “They wanted to make sure we wouldn’t die, the bastards, and then they needed to debrief us first. Now it’s your turn.”

  “You sure you’re not going to die? I was getting my hopes up there for a couple of days.” She winked. “All right, tell me what happened. Tell me where the students are. Tell me what’s being done to get them back. They are alive, right?”

  Remington pressed the button on his bed’s remote, causing the back to sit up some. “It was a bloodbath. The students were okay, last we saw. I’m not sure why, but they were the only ones not harmed. All of the soldiers were ruthlessly killed, and then we were spared—from death at least.”

  Dean Pritcham leaned forward. “Why?”

  Remington pointed at her. “To tell you. To tell the FBI. There’s no other reason for it. We were spared and then dropped off at the university so that you all would know.”

  Dean Pritcham’s brow furrowed as she looked away from Remington to the floor, thinking. “That doesn’t make any sense. You said the kids were safe, the military killed, you two injured and then sent here. Why?” She looked up. “It was Hades, right?”

  Lance nodded, scribbling down a word on his pad. He held it up, and in all caps, he’d written. YES.

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  Remington shrugged, then asked sarcastically, “I mean, my best guess is yes, but maybe you know someone else who owns a huge three-headed dog and seems to be able to slow down time while he moves in super-speed?”

  Dean Pritcham put a hand to her head. “I wish he wouldn’t have sent either of you back.” She smirked, showing she was only kidding. “What’s the plan? What’s being done to get the students back?”

  Remington pursed his lips while Lance looked out the single window in the room. “There are problems with that. Quite a few of them.”

  Dean Pritcham raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t say?”

  Remington ignored the sarcasm in her reply. “One, the cult leaders are no longer at that location. We had scouts remain outside while we went in, but they were all killed, too. A fire was started inside the house at some point, but the only bodies found were the Navy Seals who went in with us. Second, Griff has refused to speak with anyone else in the FBI. He’ll only talk to us, and apparently not on FBI grounds, so we haven’t been able to communicate about what he knows yet. Third—”

  Dean Pritcham groaned. “How
long is this list, Remington?”

  “Longer than you want to know.” He shook his head. “I haven’t felt anything we’ve faced was insurmountable until now, but… I saw that creature, and I don’t know how we stop him.”

  She gestured for him to continue.

  Lance scribbled something else down and then lifted the pad. Theory.

  Kristin smirked. “I thought your communication skills were poor before, but I now realize you were at peak form, Lance. What theory?”

  Remington rubbed his right hand down his leg. “The bastard messed my knee up pretty bad,” he commented almost absently. “The theory isn’t a solid one, but it’s the only thing we have to go on. It involves one of the only things Tina told us before she completely shut down, back when she was locked up. It was about Claire, and that they should have taken her more seriously. She said the other witch—I can’t remember her damned name right now—saw that Claire was supposed to be someone special. More special than I guess we even thought. Tina said they should have used more drastic measures to kill her, and that was where they went wrong. They underestimated what she would be.”

  He took in a deep breath and then sighed. “You’re not going to like this.”

  Dean Pritcham chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve liked one thing you ever told me after you said I had the job as dean, so no need to let that bother you. I know it’s not bothering Lance.”

  Lance shook his head and scribbled. He lifted the pad again. Nope. I enjoy telling you things you won’t like now more than ever.

  The dean rolled her eyes.

  Remington continued, not taking any joy in their banter. “We think that Hades sent us back and not the students because he wants Claire to come for him.”

  Dean Pritcham’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you think that? I’m beginning to think you just have an unhealthy obsession with putting the students in harm’s way. Sending Sam was ridiculous.”

  Remington waved off the criticism. “There are things with her you’re still not aware of, and I’m not at liberty to say right now. That’s not the point. Think about it, Dean. What will happen if Claire finds out her classmates were kidnapped? What happened when they kidnapped Frank? Claire isn’t going to sit back and do nothing about it. She won’t stay at the beach with Frank. She’ll suit up and go after them, no matter the costs, even if that means her death. If you think about it, Hades does have Tina, and if she told him the same thing she told us, that would be one way to make sure the two of them come face to face. Steal her friends, then send someone back to tell the tale.”