Claire sensed the two people on her left and right; she could actually hear their quiet breathing. “Left!” she shouted as she moved right, Jack knowing exactly what to do. Claire ducked again but didn’t strike out with her leg. The person felt too close for that. Instead, she snapped her arm out and hit the attacker in the stomach.
“Oof!”
The assailant’s fist was coming down on top of Claire, ready to smash into her head despite her punch. Claire flipped over on her back, reaching into the darkness and finding the fist. She pulled down, flipping the attacker over her and onto the floor between her legs. Claire brought both fists down on the person’s chest, then kicked him again in the stomach.
Claire knew Marissa was more vulnerable and popped up again, leaving the assailant to pull himself away. The rules hadn’t been officially spelled out, but they seemed to leave once an ass-whooping had been laid across them. “Marissa, you okay?”
Jack responded. “She’s fine, but take your sweet time. We’re just waiting for you to get back.”
Claire quickly hopped back to her place in the line. “You bleeding yet, Jack-ass?”
“Maybe my lip a bit, but I’ve also got them coming from the back, and it’s a tougher place to defend. Must be easy up there in the front.”
Claire could hear the jest in his voice, and she grinned.
Marissa spoke from the middle. “You both need to do a better job of defending. I was completely in the open for ten seconds.”
Claire chuckled as Jack responded, “Oh, listen to Queen Sissy complaining about her guards not protecting her well enough.”
“Grab hold,” Claire commanded, her laughter fading as she remembered how important this all was. The group moved farther into the darkness but hopefully toward light. After ten seconds or so without attack, Claire knew they were near where the serious attack would originate. “Ready?” she asked her team.
“Yeah,” Jack said from the rear. “I’ve got to pee, so let’s get this over with.”
Claire couldn’t help but chuckle at his ridiculousness. It lasted for about half a second, though, because as she took the next step forward, she felt the two billy clubs swinging for her knees. She had no time to warn anyone else. She couldn’t duck since the clubs would wallop Marissa.
Claire lifted her leg and twirled her body in a roundhouse kick, connecting with one of their faces.
Pain ripped through her thigh as the other club slammed into her leg. She let out a grunt but turned quickly, trying to sense where the attacker had disappeared to. “Jack, you okay?”
Her friend grunted, then she heard a body drop. “Better than that guy is.”
The club came again, this time from farther to her left. Claire had no choice but to raise her arms and cross them over one another, blocking the blow with her forearms. Burning pain roared up to her shoulders, but her hands turned to fists and she thrust her feet at the attacker as her fists turned into powerful pistons, slamming into the air. The assailant was dodging, but Claire could hear him.
The club came at her shoulder. Claire jumped back and the attacker missed, his arm swinging wildly in front of her and exposing his ribs, even if Claire couldn’t actually see them. Her foot swung forward, toe pointed, and she connected hard with the person’s torso. They gave a yelp, but Claire didn’t slow down. Her fists whipped forward, wanting to eliminate this threat and hoping it might be the last.
The assailant finally fell to the ground.
Claire didn’t hesitate; she backed up until she felt Marissa’s hands on her back. “Jack, where are you?”
“Here,” he wheezed. “There anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Claire responded.
Marissa spoke from directly behind her. “We haven’t ever made it this far. Normally those four take us out.”
“Well, don’t freakin’ jinx us,” Jack scolded with a bit of glee. “Where to now, Claire? You got any idea?”
She nodded into the blackness. “Come on.”
She knew there were people all around them now, more than they could possibly fight off. She heard them breathing and feel their slight movements in the air. Claire imagined Jack and Marissa felt them, too, but no one said anything. It didn’t matter at this point. The only way out was forward.
She took five more steps, and then she felt it—a string hanging from the ceiling. “Listen up,” she whispered. “I found the light. I’m going to pull the string, and light is going to flood this place. Marissa, you slip behind me. Jack, you felt them as we got here?”
“Like an STD,” he responded.
“What the hell does that even mean?” Marissa asked. “God, you’re gross.”
“Means I know I’m about to have to save your ass from about fifteen dudes. That’s what it means,” Jack snapped back
“Shut up,” Claire commanded. “I’m pulling this. Marissa, get to reading, because we’re not going to be able to hold them off for long. This is where you come in. Ready?”
Marissa sounded confident as she said, “Do it.”
Claire did. She grabbed the string and yanked it. Light didn’t flood from a single bulb, but rather stretched across the ceiling. Brightness that threatened to blind Claire flooded down as the entire funhouse lit up. Claire moved forward as Marissa slipped easily behind her. Claire had been right; there was a wall that would protect Marissa’s back. They only had to protect her front.
Jack’s eyes widened. “Um, how do you want to handle this?”
Twenty, maybe thirty, of Dr. Kilgore’s minions stood before them. They’d flipped up their night vision, so everyone was on equal footing as far as sight.
“Marissa, start reading,” Claire demanded.
That, apparently, was the minions’ cue. They came forward as she started reading the pseudo-spells, the ones meant to stop certain attacks.
Claire met the first attacker, his fist too slow for her. She dodged it and brought her foot down on his knees, then kicked him in the chest and sent him sprawling backward.
“Damn it!” Jack shouted. A billy club smacked him in the back even as he landed a punch on one of the assailants in front of him. He whirled, but Claire lost sight of him as she focused on the three coming toward her.
“HEAD SHOTS DONE!” Marissa shouted from behind.
“Maybe get to the freakin’ back shots,” Jack screamed.
Claire ignored them both. She rushed toward the assailant on her right as he tried to back up. Her foot landed down on his chest; she was much too fast for him to defend himself. The middle attacker swung then, nailing Claire on her left shoulder and sending her to her knees.
“BACK SHOTS DONE!” Marissa screamed.
Thank God, Claire thought. The middle attacker had been swinging for her back, but he stopped in mid-arc, clearly following the rules Dr. Kilgore had set forth. Claire hopped to her feet. Her hands and legs flew in a flurry of blows, forcing the two attackers back. They weren’t nearly fast enough to compete, even with one having a billy club.
“LEG SHOTS DONE!” Marissa called, and then, “Help!”
Claire’s brow furrowed as she whipped around. One of the bastards had slipped behind her and was going for Marissa. Her friend could defend herself, but not while reading spells. “I got her, Jack!” she shouted, knowing the communication was necessary.
Claire turned and took three huge steps, then slid, whacking into the man’s legs and scissoring him to the ground. She popped back up and slammed him once in the stomach with her foot, then quickly whipped around to see who else was coming.
Jack was running out of energy, his swings slower now and not as accurate. “Keep going, Marissa,” Claire commanded. She flew across the distance separating her and Jack and landed another roundhouse in the man’s ribs. He doubled over, and Claire brought an elbow down on his shoulder—careful not to break anything, but needing to eliminate him from the attack. He hit the floor and Claire looked at Jack with a grin. “Need some more help?”
Jack shook his head and in be
tween deep breaths, said, “I just wanted to make you work some.”
Claire and Jack backed up as one unit, putting a few feet between them and Marissa. Six assailants left.
“What can they still hit?” Jack asked.
Claire shook her head. “Hell if I know.”
Dr. Kilgore’s loud voice boomed across the room through a PA system. “ENOUGH!” The small door opened and Kilgore walked out, the bright lights illuminating him. He jogged across the floor, passing his six minions and clapping when he reached Claire’s crew. “Well done. Well done!”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you stop it?”
Dr. Kilgore’s face grew quizzical, then he looked at the floor. Moaning bodies littered it, some people were pulling themselves away, but others were just lying there and staring at the ceiling. “You hurt all my fighters! Very few spells left, no need prove any more. You passed.” He smiled broadly. “You passed! Come, come, let us go show other professors.”
Claire was worried about the men and women on the floor, the ones she and Jack had fought off. “What about them?”
Dr. Kilgore nodded but didn’t glance down again. “They will be okay. They have padding and armor. Hurt, yes, but nothing is broken. Bruises. They will be fine.”
Claire felt Marissa’s hand on her back and then heard her whisper, “Frank. We’ve got to go.”
Claire knew that was the truth. Any moments spent here were moments not rescuing Frank.
“They are all fine,” Dr. Kilgore repeated. “Let’s go see the professors, then get you down there to kill ghosts. You are ready.”
Chapter Seventeen
Remington and Lance were here now. Claire imagined Dean Pritcham had called them. They stood in front of the sliding glass doors they’d seen last semester.
It feels like a lifetime ago, Claire thought. Like we were babies.
The door slid open, and Dr. Thomas Mitchen stood in front of them. The English genius had created all the weapons they’d used against Dracula and his horde.
“How is everyone?” Dr. Mitchen asked. His eyes grew wide as he surveyed the injuries on the students. “Oh, dear. Those don’t look good.”
“Training this semester hasn’t exactly been easy,” Claire remarked.
“Or fair,” Jack chimed in.
“It’s been necessary,” Dean Pritcham responded. “Dr. Mitchen, I know you’ve been working hard, but time has run short. I’m under the impression you have what we need.”
Dr. Mitchen nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend. Frank, right? I think we will be able to help, although perhaps not in the way you originally thought. Please come in.”
He turned and let the group of six follow him. The place looked very much the same as the last time. Rows and rows of people working with their heads down.
Claire saw scientific instruments she couldn’t begin to understand, and others that she’d seen during physics class in high school. Last time she had been in awe. This time she was simply determined to get out of here as quickly as possible with everything that might be valuable to her mission.
Dr. Mitchen came to a stop at one of the rows that appeared indistinguishable from all the rest. “Here we are.”
“And where would ‘here’ be?” Jack asked.
Dean Pritcham looked at him disapprovingly. “I might just leave you upstairs next time and let the ladies explain to you what you receive.”
Jack grinned sheepishly but said nothing.
Dr. Mitchen’s back was to the group, and when he spoke, he appeared to take no notice of Jack’s jab. “My colleagues and I considered this problem before it arrived. Truth be told, we’d hoped it would never manifest. Ghosts are tricky things, despite what the movies have made it seem like.”
Claire looked at the table in front of Dr. Mitchen, but she saw no gadgets or instruments. Everything to his left and right was bare, so unless it was all being blocked by his body, it appeared as if they’d be leaving empty-handed.
Dr. Mitchen smiled. “I’d hoped, as had everyone else down here, that we could deliver something to you akin to the equipment in the film Ghostbusters. An American film, yes, but it was big in England as well. Alas, it is simply not possible to do the things they did. At least, not yet. Which is a bit of a problem, given that ghosts are here now.”
Well, maybe they’ve always been here, Claire thought. But they’re here in much larger numbers now.
Dr. Mitchen’s head was bent, as if he was looking at something.
Claire was getting sick of the build-up, but for some reason, she felt she needed to be more respectful toward the scientist. Maybe it was because he’d delivered badass weapons last time. Maybe it was the accent. Either way, she held her tongue instead of telling him to hurry up.
“We won’t be able to help you physically fight the ghosts, although the FBI has some crude instruments that will help hurt them,” he continued. “After speaking with Dr. Tharos and keeping in touch with Dr. Kilgore’s training, I think we’re on the right track. What we’ve done is a bit different, but hopefully, it will work.”
“Dr. Mitchen, please, enough,” Jack begged. “Let’s get on with it. You’re a great showman, but there are things I have to do. Like pee, for one.”
Claire chuckled, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. Jack was one of a kind.
“My apologies,” Dr. Mitchen responded, sounding as cheerful as ever. “Only, I want you to understand we did think through this, and we did try. Science simply hasn’t caught up with the Veil yet. However, we managed to get you something that will help.”
He turned around, holding a book.
“A fucking book?” Jack asked. “All this time, and you’re showing us a book?”
Claire’s mouth dropped open, shocked at what was in front of her. It wasn’t an Impaler or any other gadget. This was a leather-bound—large, to be sure—book.
She turned to Dean Pritcham. “I don’t understand. I thought you said he was getting us something that would help. I thought we were waiting for something big. This is...” Claire shook her head. “It’s a book.”
Dr. Mitchen smiled. “Let it be said that you have the smartest students in all the land, Dean Pritcham. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is a book.”
“Let him finish.” Remington spoke up from the back of the crowd. “It’s not like anyone is just trying to wing this. From what I understand, you’ve been training with a book.”
“You’re right.” Claire faced Dr. Mitchen and the book again. “Sorry. The three of us are under a lot of pressure. We were expecting Bill Murray-level weapons. Please continue.”
“Pressure creates oil and diamonds, but it also busts pipes.” Dr. Mitchen’s face was serious now. “Here, I want to talk about this. Crowd around.” He turned and placed the book back on the table, the three students moving to either side of him. Mitchen took the book’s cover and opened it. The thing’s weight was readily apparent. “This is the Book of Shadows.”
Claire glanced at Marissa. If anyone here knew that name, she would.
And she does, Claire thought.
Marissa’s eyes had widened although she remained silent.
“You’ve heard of it?” Claire asked.
“Yeah,” Marissa answered.
Mitchen turned his head to look at her. “Care to enlighten your classmates?”
Marissa didn’t look at anyone else as she spoke, just stared at the book. “It’s supposed to be a rumor, or fake, even. It’s rumored to be the original book of spells, the ones the first witches wrote down. There have been copies made, but that’s just rumors too. If this is the original, it shouldn’t exist.”
Mitchen nodded as he turned to the first page. Claire followed his gaze. The words were in a language Claire didn’t know, written in black ink that appeared not to have faded despite how ancient the book appeared.
“We can’t defeat the ghosts with superior technology,” Dr. Mitchen told the group. “But we can fight the people behind
the ghosts. With this.” He tapped the page. “These are spells, probably the same ones the witches used to bring over the ghosts, as well as whatever other treachery they’re committing down there. If not the same, then very similar.”
“Hey, Dr. Mitchen.” Jack spoke up. “I don’t know if you noticed, or any of the other ‘adults’ here, but we’re not witches. That means we don’t know how to cast spells.” He looked at Marissa and then Claire. “Did either of you have a spellcasting class yet, like they did in Harry Potter? Because I must have missed that one. More—” He looked back down at the book. “That’s written in Latin. I’m almost positive of it. That’s a dead language, in case you geniuses didn’t know, and I certainly don’t speak it.”
“Maybe you don’t, Jack,” the dean remarked. “But she does.”
Claire followed Dean Pritcham’s gaze to Marissa. “You do?” she asked.
Marissa nodded. “My parents made me take it every semester of high school.”
“We didn’t do this haphazardly, Jack,” Dean Pritcham chastised. “We thought through it very diligently, and this is our best course of action.”
Claire was ignoring them all now, focusing on Marissa. “Can you do it, do you think? Can you learn this stuff?”
Marissa laughed—a shocked, scared thing. “Can I cast spells? I don’t know? I just know I can read the book.”
Remington stepped up behind her and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “You can do it, Marissa. You’re the smartest person in this entire school, including the professors and present company—”
“I resent that,” Jack quipped.
Claire rolled her eyes and then stepped up next to Marissa. “Remington’s right. You can do this. We need you to. Frank needs you to.”
Marissa was staring at the book, her face white. “I’ll try,” she whispered.
Claire nodded. “That’s all we can ask.”
Jack turned from the book and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d like to revisit the part where Remington said she was smarter than everyone else, present company included.”
Remington took his hand from Marissa’s shoulder. “Shut it, Jack.” He stepped in front of Marissa so that he could look at her. “I think Dr. Tharos can help some with this. He’s not a witch, but he knows a lot about this stuff, and he’s agreed to come with us down to Miami.”
Paranormal University: Second Semester: An Unveiled Academy Novel Page 17
