All three nodded.
“Always needing me to protect you, Sissy,” Jack quipped. “That’s okay, I’ll do it.”
“Shut it, Jack. Let’s go.” Claire moved across the lobby, heading to the stairwell doors. Her eyes were focused—as well as the rest of her senses—for any type of movement. Anything that might pose a threat. She reached the door, wondering if it would be locked.
She turned the handle, and it glided easily beneath her hand. No locks.
They want us to come, she thought. Al wasn’t lying.
“Here we go.” She stepped into the darkness.
Frank had rarely been frightened in his life. Leprechauns were powerful beings, regardless of how modern-day America made them seem like nothing but drunks.
Yet, sitting on the roof of the tallest building in Miami, Frank found himself fearful. He was strapped to a different chair, although the magic holding him to it was the same as before. From this vantage point, he could view much of this city, and what he saw didn’t give him confidence. Dark towers that should have been filled with lights. He’d lived in Miami for some time, and never once had he considered it might look like this.
Like a literal ghost town, he thought.
The wind whipped around him, although he knew it wasn’t simply the weather. He felt ghosts brushing by him and heard them whispering in his ear. He even saw some staggering around from time to time, looking like lost, malevolent creatures. Not human. Not even leprechaun, but something else entirely.
“You like them?” came a voice from behind Frank. He knew it automatically as Marilyn.
She walked up behind his chair and placed her hands on his shoulders, lowering her face down next to his. “Look to your right, and you’ll see one.”
Frank didn’t want to, but he did. Marilyn wasn’t lying. It was a black thing, looking like it was made more of shadows than anything solid. Its eyes burned red like Hell’s own embers.
“That’s a particularly mean one there. All it wants to do is hurt people,” Marilyn whispered. She stood up, although she didn’t take her hands from his shoulders. “Your friend is here, the one I’m supposed to be scared of. She’s on the way up right now. I sincerely doubt she’ll make it to you, not with what we’ve got in store for her. But if she does?”
The witch laughed, a cruel thing that made Frank’s skin crawl. “Well, if she makes it up here, look around you. What can she possibly do to us?”
Frank’s hands turned to fists. He wanted nothing more than to teleport out of this chair and pull the woman’s head right off her body. He couldn’t do anything, though.
“I hope you don’t feel too bad,” the witch continued. “I mean, they’re coming up here to save you. You’ll be the reason young Claire dies.”
Frank’s hands relaxed and he chuckled, feeling a bit of relief.
“Something funny?” Marilyn asked.
He nodded. “Just that ye think ye’re going to kill her when she gets up here. The truth is, I’ve got a front-row seat to yer death, and I’m really looking forward to it. I only hope she frees me first so I can help.”
“You hear that?” Jack asked.
Claire stood on in the stairwell, looking up through the winding structure. Her headlamp’s light showed the handrails but not much else.
“Yeah, I hear it,” she answered. Something was coming, even if she couldn’t see it. The sound was like a freight train’s whistle, growing louder with each passing second. “Everyone ready?”
The crew was behind her, with Marissa in the middle.
“Ready,” Remington called from the very back.
The sound had reached a crescendo and wind rushed downward, hitting all of them. “Back up!” She pushed herself against the wall, leaving the handrail just in time. She couldn’t see what, but something touched her hair, yanking some out as it passed by.
“What the hell?” Jack shouted as the wind plastered his clothes against his body.
Claire pushed herself to the handrail again, this time looking downward. “I see it!”
A face stared back at her, —if it could be considered that. There was no body, just a wide white plate with two eyes and a mouth that appeared to be a black hole. When Claire peered through the mouth, she couldn’t see anything on the other side. It was as if the stairwell had disappeared.
It’s laughing, Claire thought. That’s the freight train whistle you hear. It’s laughter.
Her head flashed upward, staring into what she hoped was emptiness. “Run! Up!”
Claire took off. They couldn’t beat this thing, not in these tight quarters. They could only try to escape.
Claire’s feet pounded on the stairs, her lungs surging in and out to get air. She heard the others behind her, but also that horrible laughter growing louder as the ghost flew toward them.
“How much farther?” Jack shouted from a few steps below.
“How do I know?” Claire responded without slowing.
“Fifty more floors!” Marissa screamed, trying to be heard over the ghoulish laughter.
We can’t outrun it. There’s simply no way, Claire thought, and as if the creature was reading her mind, it rushed over the railing.
Claire lurched to a stop, Jack running into her back and almost shoving her to the steps. She held onto her footing and stared at the thing which should not exist but somehow did.
It floated over the landing in the stairwell, ten stairs up from where she stood.
Its black mouth moved, and the screeching whistling noise hurt Claire’s ears, making it almost impossible to think.
“Okay, fearless leader,” Jack shouted, close enough that she could hear him. “Any more bright ideas? Clearly, running isn’t going to work.”
Remington stepped forward with the shotgun. “Watch out.” Claire and Jack moved to the side. He pumped the weapon, brought it up, and fired.
The shotgun’s explosion echoed through the constrained space, the rock salt flying forth.
The apparition disappeared in an instant. The salt flew through where it had been floating and smashed into the wall behind it. A second later, it reappeared, completely unharmed.
“Well, that’s not gonna work,” Claire growled. “Marissa, you got any spells for it?”
Marissa shook her head. “Nope. Can’t say I’ve seen anything for vanishing ghosts who sound like a freight train.”
The creature wasn’t moving, only hanging there and laughing, waiting on them to come to it.
“Quickly, Claire,” Jack whispered harshly. “That thing isn’t going to float there forever.”
Claire made a decision. Not one she wanted to ,but she had no choice. “Protect Marissa and get to the top. I’ll take care of this son-of-a-bitch.”
“What?” Remington called, but Claire didn’t listen. The steel in her spine was there, and her mind made up. She rushed up the stairs, but not to run away this time. She was going straight for the dead bastard, or whatever it might be.
The mouth opened wide, the noise it made making Claire feel like her ears might bleed. Her headlamp showed it clearly, an ephemeral thing with waves rippling across its ghostly flesh. She collided with it, grabbing the sides of its large flat face, her hands finding purchase on it.
It feels like an eel, she thought frantically. Using all her strength, she shoved it back against the wall. Instinctively, she understood she had to keep away from the mouth. That was the source of danger.
The thing smacked against the wall, giving off a wet sound as it did.
“Go!” she shrieked at the group.
Jack was behind her, coming to a stop as she struggled with the creature. Its mouth was surging out, trying to latch onto her body.
“We’re not leaving you!”
Claire’s head whipped around. “Get the hell outta here now. I’ll see you up top.”
There was fear in his eyes, but none in hers. He nodded and looked back at the other three. “Let’s go!”
Their footsteps filled
Claire’s ears as her team rushed past her, heading upward to whatever awaited them. Claire kept her eyes on the struggling ghost, its strength mighty but not able to break free of her hold.
Her friends left, and her focus fell completely on the apparition. It was still laughing, the freight train sound deafening.
“Let’s dance,” Claire whispered. She didn’t understand what she was dealing with, just knew that it might look ephemeral, but it was still solid. That meant she could hurt it, or at the very least, move it.
Claire turned, using all her strength to drag the thing with her. It screamed its crazy laughter, whether scared or simply insane, she couldn’t tell.
Claire bashed it against the railing. Its mouth stretched out with a deadly bite, clamping down inches from her midsection. She bashed it again. Cords of muscle rippled up her forearms as she struggled to hold the thing.
This isn’t going to work, she thought. I can’t fucking bash it to death. Hell, it’s already dead!
She looked around, the headlamp lighting the walls and steps but showing nothing that could save her. She didn’t have time to consider whether her friends had made it up.
The ghost chomped at her again, and this time, the toothless mouth touched her shirt. The fabric burned, although it didn’t catch fire.
So that’s what will happen if it gets hold of me, Claire thought. Hard pass on that.
“Claire!”
She looked toward the sound of the voice. It was Remington standing one level up, his pistol raised and pointed directly at the ghost—and her.
“Move!” he screamed.
She didn’t know if it was going to work, only that she couldn’t hold on any longer. It would eventually eat her alive.
Claire released it and swung to her left, bouncing down the stairs with a dancer’s grace. “Go!”
The ghost rushed forward, its mouth chomping.
An explosion drowned out everything else, including the hideous laughter. Then another. Claire was backpedaling, staring up at the creature coming for her.
That’s the shotgun! she thought.
The salt hit it, and this time, it hadn’t been able to see the gun. Small black holes peppered the apparition, and the ghost’s eyes grew wide. Claire heard the shotgun being reloading, but she didn’t think it would be necessary.
The ghost had stopped moving toward her. It stared at her as if it didn’t understand what was happening. The new holes decorating its massive head grew larger, beginning to consume the entire creature.
Claire quit running down the stairs and watched as the holes became larger than its eyes and its mouth, and finally, the ghost disappeared entirely. The ghastly whistle died with it.
Claire looked up to see Remington staring with his mouth ajar.
“How did you know it wouldn’t disappear again?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t.”
Claire blinked as she gained control of herself. “Where is everyone else?”
“Still heading up. I came back alone.”
Claire glared at him. “That was dumb. They need you up there.”
Remington lowered the shotgun. “And you needed me down here. Come on. We’ll catch them.”
Claire sighed, pissed off that the FBI agent hadn’t listened to her, but knowing she might have been burnt to a crisp otherwise. She glanced down at the hole in her shirt, the edges black. She shook her head but said nothing as she hustled up the stairs to find her friends.
“I was going to come and save you, but I figured I’ve done that enough, and someone else needed a chance,” Jack quipped as Claire and Remington reached them.
He was grinning, and Claire could tell he was glad she was alive, but he still wouldn’t miss a chance to rib her.
“I imagine the shotgun’s recoil would have ripped your skinny shoulder off.” Claire smirked as she reached the front of the group, resuming her leadership position.
“You okay?” Marissa asked.
Claire saw she still had the book under her arm.
“Yeah, outside of my wardrobe being down a shirt, I’m good.” They had traveled up another twenty floors, and everyone was exhausted. “You come across anything else?”
Jack shook his head. “Nothing substantial, just noises. But things are getting colder if you haven’t noticed.”
She had. The hair on her arms was sticking up, and despite having just climbed twenty flights of stairs, she was chilly. She breathed out, and her breath fogged in front of her.
“Not a great sign,” Marissa cautioned. “Means there’s a lot of activity going on right now.”
“Activity?” Lance asked from behind her.
“See, this is why you two shouldn’t be allowed to come along.” Jack shook his head with a grin. “You have no idea what you’re doing because you aren’t in class with us.”
“Yeah, well, he just saved my bacon,” Claire replied.
Jack shrugged. “Only because I let him.”
“Please. You would have blown your dick off,” Lance cracked. “Now come on. How many floors do we have left, Marissa?”
“You don’t want to know.” She shook her head, sweat covering her face despite the cool air surrounding them.
“How many?” Claire asked again.
“Thirty.”
Jack laughed. “Frank isn’t worth this. Let’s just leave him up there and go lie on the beach. We’ll have the whole thing to ourselves.”
Claire kicked his shin lightly. “Come on. Up we go.” She trudged upward, floor after floor falling behind them. The higher they went, the colder the air grew. Claire’s breath came out in huge plumes. There wasn’t any training they could do for this kind of exercise besides work on a stair-stepper all day, and she was growing more tired with each step.
More and more floors fell behind them, each looking like the one before it. The only difference between each level was the amount of exhaustion that settled in on Claire. She turned the corner, grabbing the railing, and looked up at the next flight.
She immediately stopped.
“What is it?” Remington called from behind.
Claire swallowed as Jack reached her. “Well, isn’t that pleasant,” he said sarcastically.
Three dolls stood on the next landing. They didn’t look like the redheaded one from the university. Each one was different, and worse than the last. The first had patches of hair ripped from her head. The second was missing an eye, only a black hole staring at Claire. The third was missing a hand, but in its place, someone had shoved a small screwdriver, then taped the opening closed.
The rest of the group arrived.
“Shoot them,” Claire whispered.
“With pleasure,” Lance answered. He slowly lowered his shotgun to the floor, and just as slowly stood back up. Then, with lightning speed, he whipped his gun from the holster, bringing it to eye level.
Before he could pull the trigger, the three dolls moved.
Fast.
They move like Frank, Claire thought as her eyes tried to keep up. They grabbed the railing, launched off walls, and flipped through the air. They ended up behind the group, causing Claire to turn around.
“You think running is a good choice again?” Jack quipped.
“What do you want?” Claire called down the stairs, stepping through her group until she was in front.
The doll with the missing eye spoke. “Nothing, really. Just to kill you.”
“Oh, that sounds great.” Jack pushed his way to the front to stand next to Claire. Marissa stayed in the middle, protecting the book. Jack spoke again. “Would you rather we lie down so that you can kill us, or maybe we should turn around, and you can stab us in the back?”
The bald doll laughed. “I like him.” Its small head turned to the screwdriver doll. “Can I kill him?”
Screwdriver shrugged, looking incredibly lifelike, as if it wasn’t a doll but a miniature human.
“You sure can,” Jack shot back. “Come and get i
t, sweetheart.”
The dolls spread out but didn’t move forward.
“Can you shoot them?” Claire asked the agents, her eyes not leaving the dolls.
“Not if they move like that,” Lance told her. “I’d be just as likely to hit the wall, and one of you would catch a ricochet. I don’t think the salt will work on them because it’s a possession.”
Claire pulled a blade from her waist. “Ready, Jack?”
“Born ready, dearest.” She heard his blade exit its sheath.
“Remember what Dr. Kilgore taught us,” Claire instructed.
“Yeah, yeah. Be still. I got it.”
Claire took one step and then paused. She turned her head halfway over her shoulder. “You three make sure the book is safe. We’ll handle this.” She looked at Jack quickly. “Think we can take two or three?”
Jack grinned. “I can take one on three. You go ahead and stay back there with them. Protect the book.”
Claire smiled as her head turned back to the dolls. “No way am I dying next to a Jack-ass like you.”
She moved to the far left side of the stairwell, and Jack to the right, their training taking over. Claire held her blade in front of her chest, just as she’d been taught.
The dolls looked at one another while Claire and Jack descended the stairs.
“They’re not running.” Screwdriver sounded confused.
Missing Eye raised an eyebrow over the black hole in her face. “Humans always run.” It looked at Claire and Jack. “Why aren’t you running? It’s not as fun if you don’t run.”
“Mainly because I’m not scared of anything that doesn’t come up to my knee,” Claire told them. She knew how fast they were, and while they might be only talking now, her entire body was poised for any movement.
Screwdriver spoke next. “Come on. Please. Run and scream. It makes it a lot funner for us.”
“’Funner’ isn’t a word, moron,” Jack responded, then turned to look at Claire. “Are they serious right now?”
Paranormal University- Second Semester Page 20
