Dean Pritcham leaned all the way back in her chair. It did make sense, although… “Why would Claire be so special? If this really is a Greek god, capable of the things that existed in myths, then why would he care at all about Claire?”
Remington was quiet for a moment, “If she’s the only one the witch believed can stop this invasion or the Veil tearing, then Hades will want to stop her. Or maybe it’s the cult, their leaders who are in charge, and they want to stop her. Either way, can you think of another reason to send us back?”
Dean Pritcham shook her head. She thought their theory wasn’t bulletproof, but it made some sense. Mainly because if they did tell Claire what happened, then nothing would stop her from trying to get her friends back. “So, what is your plan?”
Lance chuckled.
Remington grimaced. “This is the part you won’t like. Tomorrow they’re flying us to South Carolina. We’re going to tell Claire what happened.”
Dean Pritcham wanted to sink down her chair, but she managed to stay upright. “Either Dr. Byron or I will be going too, then.”
Lance scribbled more. Why?
Sarcasm laced the dean’s voice. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because every time you talk to her, or any of the students, you almost get them killed. It seems like having someone else there might be a good idea.”
Lance wrote something else down, but when he lifted the paper, he only showed Remington.
The agent laughed, then put his hand to his head as he groaned. “Ouch. Damn it, Lance. He said that he’d rather fly with King Kong than you, so we should take Dr. Byron.”
Chapter Twenty
Claire was on the beach again. “I’m going to have to go home sometime, Frank.”
Frank was sitting in his usual spot next to her. A cooler full of beer sat between them, and the umbrella was open above. It’d been days since the FBI agents had come and talked to Claire. Her skin had grown tan from the constant days at the beach, and she’d put on a few pounds from the horrible food they ate all the time. Still, she couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying this break from the rest of her life.
“And why’s that?” Frank asked. “Why would you ever want to leave this life of luxury?”
Claire sighed. “Because at some point, I’m going to need to be productive again. Maybe you and Al are okay living like this forever, but I’m not.”
Frank smirked and shook his head. “Methinks Al thought he would live forever at one point. Now, methinks he’s terrified that damned witch is going to die and he doesn’t know what will happen. Me, though? Ye are correct. I am perfectly fine living like this forever. This is the life, lass.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I haven’t even called my parents in weeks. I’m sure they’re worried. Hell, they might even show up at the university if I don’t call them soon.”
Frank shrugged and looked at her quizzically. “So call them. Make up some stuff and then lie on the beach for the rest of the summer. When it starts getting a little cold, then ye can go home.”
Claire sat up and swung her feet into the sand. “Leprechauns may be the laziest bunch ever. I’ve got to do something before it starts getting cold. This is why you’re a thief, Frank. It’s because you’re lazy.”
Frank shook his head. “I’ve changed me ways, lass. Look at me now. Not stealing anything. Al may from time to time, but that’s only because he thinks it’s funny. Me? No more. I pay for everything I own.”
Claire scoffed. “Yeah, because you got a fat check from the FBI. If that ever runs out, you’ll be stealing again. I’m going to get in the water.”
Frank reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer. “Good, lass. Drown while you’re out there!” He laughed as she walked away.
Claire made it about ten feet to the ocean when she heard a voice behind her. One she hadn’t expected at all.
“How’s your summer vacation going, Ms. Hinterland?”
Despite the afternoon heat, goosebumps rose across Claire’s arms. She didn’t turn around. “You shouldn’t be here. Why did you come?”
“I don’t want to be here, Ms. Hinterland, but I came out of duty.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed, though she saw nothing in front of her. Her mind was focused only on her next question. “Duty to the FBI?”
“Duty to you,” Dr. Byron answered.
Claire turned around slowly. She was ready for anything, not sure if the FBI had sent a force to bring her back. She hadn’t used any of her physical prowess in some time, but it was still beneath the surface.
Dr. Byron was alone. He wore slacks and a dress shirt, his usual classroom attire.
Claire looked him up and down. “You’re not dressed for the beach.”
He smirked. “My trunks are upstairs. That short man you were sitting with, is that the leprechaun? Frank?”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Dr. Byron raised his hands defensively. “I’m not here for him. Just curious, because he looks so odd.”
“That’s because you can’t see him,” Claire responded. “Not for what he really is. But yes, that’s Frank.” Claire glanced behind Dr. Byron and up to the parking lot. “Did you come alone?”
Lowering his hands, Dr. Byron shook his head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have known where you were if not for my employer. They’re up at the apartment.”
Claire sighed. “They’re inside, I imagine?”
Dr. Byron shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes, ma’am. The FBI isn’t scrupulous when it comes to entering apartments that they pay for.”
“What do they want?” Claire asked.
Dr. Byron looked past her at the ocean. “I think it’s best you talk to them about it.”
Claire started walking past Dr. Byron to her beach chair. “Come on. Better tell Frank what the hell’s going on. He’s not going to be happy they’re in the apartment. Don’t call him odd, either. He doesn’t like it and will most definitely call you a speciesist.”
Dr. Byron fell in line behind her. “He does realize that he doesn’t exist, right?”
Claire only chuckled. “I’d keep that to yourself, too.”
Frank looked up from the chair as they arrived. “He’s a bit old for ye, isn’t he, lass?”
Claire shook her head, digging her foot into the sand. “You’re not going to like him, or what I have to say.”
Frank sat up. “There are only a few things I don’t like. Bowling alleys that aren’t open twenty-four hours. Dry counties. And Remington and Lance. Unless a law just passed outlawing the sale of booze, I’m guessing that tall guy behind you is Remington’s butler or something, and they’re up at me pad?”
Claire sighed, still watching her foot dig into the sand. “Maaaaaybe?”
Frank shook his head. “Ye are a headache of the worst kind. Like an aneurysm that won’t kill me, but just keeps bleeding. What in the hell do those lads want?”
Claire jerked a finger at Dr. Byron. “The butler won’t tell me. He says I have to talk to them. They’re in the apartment already, so I figured you might want to come.”
Frank stood up, holding his beer carefully so that it didn’t spill. He pointed at the cooler. “Butler, grab that and bring it to the room.” He stomped off, obviously mad as hell.
Claire looked at Dr. Byron and shrugged. “You heard him, Butler. Grab the beer.”
Frank had walked into the apartment ready to rant and rave, his hand clenched in a fist. They’d picked Al up on the way to the apartment and he’d been cursing, too, both of them working each other into a lather.
Ready to let the FBI have it.
They couldn’t just break into people’s apartments.
They couldn’t just keep showing up here. Frank and Al had rights, and even if they didn’t because they weren’t technically citizens, Claire did. Damn it, they’d sue if the two bastards did this shit again.
Claire thought it all very funny and was ready to hear them berate Remington and Lance. Dr. Byron was oddly quiet as he w
alked behind the group, dutifully carrying the cooler.
Frank slammed the door against the wall as they entered the apartment. “Ye two better get the fu—” He abruptly quit speaking and stopped in his tracks.
Al did too, and when Claire made it around the corner, she stared at the two agents, her jaw agape. She blinked a few times, not fully understanding what she was looking at.
Both of the agents were sitting in wheelchairs. Remington’s head was bandaged, and his leg in a cast. Lance’s left arm was also in a cast, and each had a myriad of scratches across their faces and necks. Something looked off with Lance’s face, although Claire couldn’t tell what it was.
Al found his voice first. “You two try to fight a bear?”
Remington looked nonplussed. “A bear with three heads.”
Dr. Byron placed the cooler on the floor. “Remington, I imagine you’re talking to something I can’t see or hear?”
Claire had completely forgotten. She’d hung out with Al so much lately that it seemed like everyone who hung around with her could see him.
Remington nodded. “There’s a ghost standing next to Frank. He says his name’s Al, but I don’t believe him.”
Al scoffed. “It is Al, and this isn’t Frank, it’s Betty.”
Claire glanced apologetically at Dr. Byron. “You’re going to miss some of this conversation, and there’s not much anyone can do about it. Just try to keep up.” She was more than concerned right now and could care less about the banter. She stepped in front of Frank and into the living room. “What the hell happened?”
Lance looked down at a pad in his lap. He wrote something down and then held it up. You didn’t come back. That’s what happened.
Claire glared at the notepad. “First, did someone cut your damn tongue out? Second, go fuck yourself.”
Remington rolled his chair forward just a bit. “Hades broke his jaw. It’s wired shut. He won’t be talking or eating solid food for a while. And that’s partly true, what he said. You didn’t come back, and so a lot of people died.”
Claire shook her head and then walked past the two agents. She sat down on the couch. Remington was able to turn his chair, but Dr. Byron had to move behind Lance and help move his so that he faced Claire.
“I didn’t do this,” she stated angrily. “Who died?”
Remington was calm as he spoke. “Navy Seals. Good men, although you didn’t know them.”
Claire met his gaze. “Jack and Marissa are okay?”
Lance shook his head, but his hands remained still.
Claire scooted forward on the couch. “What’s wrong with them? What happened?”
Remington sighed and looked out the window to his left. “Hades has them. He and the cult leaders. That’s why we’re here—to tell you that.”
Claire couldn’t hold her anger anymore. She bolted up from the couch. “What do you mean, Hades has them? Has them where? What’s he doing with them? What are you doing to get them back?” The questions rattled out of her mouth like machine-gun fire.
Dr. Byron spoke. “Ms. Hinterland, you’ll need to calm down if we’re to get anywhere with this.”
She raised both eyebrows, ready to unload on him too, but Frank stopped her before she could. “Lass, there’s a time for rage and time for silence. Now is the time for silence.” He moved around the chairs so that he could see Remington’s face. “What’s happened to the two kids?”
Claire listened as Remington explained it all. The introduction of Sam to the group, the reasons behind it. The plan to assault the cult leader’s home with the Seals and her friends. The trap in the basement, though Remington and Lance still had no clue what happened to the first group who entered the house. All of it ended with the FBI agents broken and bruised, being left in front of the university.
Claire was sitting down again when they finished. She felt exhausted, ashamed, and scared, as well as more emotions that she couldn’t even figure out. “No one has heard from them since you got back?”
Remington shook his head.
“And there aren’t any plans on how to get them back?”
Lance put pen to paper and then held it up. You.
Frank shook his head in disgust. “What is it with ye two? Ye keep coming here, keep wanting her to do more and more. Ye lost two kids, and now you want her to do what? Go get them back? Against a god?”
Lance ripped the top sheet of paper off his pad and then handed it to Claire. She looked at it skeptically for a second, seeing that there was a lot more writing on it than the front sheet. She took it and read through it, almost unable to believe what it said.
Frank thrust his hand forward. “Give up the goods, lass. What’s the love letter say?”
She handed it over and then dropped back onto the couch. Al moved across the room and stood next to Frank, reading it with him. When they finished, Frank slowly let his arm drop to his side. “So ye are the chosen one, lass? That’s what everyone is thinking?” He glanced at Remington. “Why the hell didn’t you say all of that? Why put it on paper?”
The FBI agent spoke softly. “The longer I talk, the more tired I get. Getting out the whole story of what happened took a lot out of me. We decided before we got here, discussing that as well would be too much.” He pointed his finger at Claire. “I swear on everything that letter is true. Tina told us the witch believed you were special. We think we were sent back because someone over there wants to face you. We also think to get the students back, we’ll have to get in front of the bad guys, and that means you’ll need to be there.”
Claire remained leaning back on the couch, her head turned toward the ceiling. “I’m not a chosen one. I’m no different than anyone else at that university.”
Dr. Byron smirked. “False, Ms. Hinterland. You are very different than the other students. I’m not a soothsayer, nor a witch, but I don’t know another person your age who could have led people as you did.”
Claire sighed before responding. “Are you here to convince me the same as them?”
“Quite the contrary,” Dr. Bryon corrected. “I’m here to tell the other side.”
Claire tilted her head forward and looked at Dr. Byron. “Which is?”
Dr. Byron moved around the back of the wheelchair and to the couch. He sat down next to Claire, closely, so that their shoulders almost touched. “Do you remember what I told you when you showed up late to my class last year?”
Claire chuckled quietly. “Mainly, you just yelled a lot.”
Dr. Byron rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I raised my voice, Ms. Hinterland. However, I said that we were soldiers in a battle. Battles always have casualties. I thought I understood the battle a year ago, but the further in we venture, the less I understand. It’s similar to Vietnam in that aspect, maybe similar to all wars. Gods, and vampires, and ghosts, and any other number of things that we’ve heard about, including the leprechaun standing not two feet from me. Maybe there is a war, and maybe humans are making one out of nothing. Maybe most of the Mythers are friendly.”
He shook his head, staring ahead of him. “Dean Pritcham sent me here, and I think she imagined I would tell a side that she wanted. I don’t think she has the stomach for war any longer, and maybe that’s because she’s an academic at heart. I don’t know. I don’t know if this is a war or not anymore. But what I do know is you have fellow soldiers on the battlefield still. They’re alive.”
He turned to Claire, finding her eyes. “Chosen one or simple student, it doesn’t matter. You’ve got a duty to those soldiers. You don’t leave them on the battlefield. No matter what.”
Frank mockingly dabbed at his eyes. “Ye are making me tear up.” He dropped his hand and took a serious look. “Okay, enough with these speciesist, Claire. I don’t care one way or another what they say—”
“Do you care about Jack and Marissa?” she interrupted.
Frank turned to Al. “Do ye hear the rudeness with this one? Frank can’t even get a sentence out with her interrup
tions.” He shook his head. “Before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to say that I only care about what ye are thinking, and whether or not ye have the stomach to go get our friends.”
Claire smirked. “The stomach? Says the man hiding out on the beach?”
Frank raised a finger in protest. “I’m a leprechaun. Do not doubt my fortitude, lass, lest I am forced to pull it out and embarrass everyone in this room with me manhood. But enough with my strengths and the weakness of human males. Our friends are in danger, and that means we have to go get them.”
Claire couldn’t help herself. “Even Jack?”
Frank glared. “Especially Jack. He’s the one who showed me to me first strip club.”
Claire’s smiled faded and she closed her eyes, then leaned her head back against the couch. “You’re right. We’ve got to go get them. Hades, or Zeus, or whoever the hell is holding them, we’ve got to go. There isn’t any other choice.”
Frank slapped his leg, the smack loud across the room. “So be it, then. Al, are you in or out?”
Dr. Byron was staring at Frank like he was some kind of math problem he couldn’t quite figure out. He turned his head in the direction Frank was looking, but obviously saw nothing but the wall on the other side of the room. “What did the ghost say?”
Claire didn’t open her eyes. “He’s in, too.”
Frank turned to the FBI agents. “Ye two listen to me now. I’ve been reading up on what the FBI is capable of, and I know for a fact ye all have done things in Hollywood. Rising certain talents to the top and lowering others. I’ve got it on good authority that Danny Devito might owe some of his fame to ye. When we get these kiddies back, I want ye to begin my acting career.” He spread his hands out before him. “I want me name in lights, ye understand?”
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