First Semester

by Jace Mitchell

  Dean, University of Paranormal Studies.

  Claire placed the sheet of paper back down on the table. “Not sure if either of you is aware, but I didn’t apply to any school. Let alone a University of Paranormal Studies, whatever the hell that is. My finances don’t really stretch to education. Now, how about we cover a few basics. Who are you?”

  “I’m Special Agent Remington,” the older man told her. He nodded toward the man next to him. “This is Special Agent Lance.”

  “Special Agents? For what?” Claire’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in her chair.

  “We’re with the FBI.” Remington glanced at the mostly empty beer sitting on the table, Frank’s dregs. He moved it out of the way.

  “And you’re here to offer me a place in a college?” Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Forgive me if none of this is making much sense, but I think that’s part of your job description, isn’t it? To confuse people.”

  “We understand your disbelief.” Remington looked at Lance for a second.

  The younger man nodded but made no other movement.

  Remington turned back to Claire, his face set in a frown. “The world is changing, and it’s happening faster than our government can keep up with. It’s all hands on deck at this point.”

  Claire’s eyes were still narrowed at the agents. She didn’t like what she was hearing, mainly because these two weren’t telling her much of anything. “Why don’t we cut through the nonsense, and you tell me what this is about?”

  “You’re aware of the mythological invasion, obviously, from your drinking buddy’s constant presence.” Remington gave a slight nod toward the back of the building where Frank had disappeared. “Not everything that’s happening is on the news, however, and not everything coming through the Veil is as nice as your friend.”

  “The ‘Veil?’” Claire leaned forward, unable to help herself. This was new. The television never said anything about a “Veil.”

  Remington nodded. “It’s how these creatures are coming across to our world. We were woefully underprepared, but our scientists are quickly learning. These creatures are from another dimension, and we’re calling the separation between them and us the Veil. The scientists believe that it’s tearing, though, and the tears are growing in size with each incident.” He was quiet for a moment. “Creatures are coming through faster than we can react.”

  Remington looked at the basket of fries.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Claire snapped.

  She thought she saw the smallest indication of a smirk on his lips as he dipped his head in acquiescence, although she was probably wrong.

  Humor didn’t appear to be a part of a FBI agent’s job description, either.

  Remington looked up and continued. “There are a lot of theories about what’s happening, and different agencies are operating on different mandates. The FBI is focused on the invasion. We cannot be naïve enough to believe that this is benign, that we are not at war. We’re looking for people to help us fight it.”

  Frank’s face suddenly appeared in Claire’s mind. “I’m not going to kill Frank. No matter what.”

  “Told you,” Lance cut in, still looking directly at Claire.

  Remington gestured in the air with his hand, as if swatting lazily at a fly. “Right now, your little green buddy is the least of our worries.”

  Claire’s eyes flashed to Lance. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘Told you?’”

  It wasn’t Lance who spoke, but Remington. Lance simply held Claire’s gaze as if she were no more than a statue. “We know a lot about you, Ms. Hinterland. We know you come from a poor family, and we know that your physical aptitude is pretty much off the charts for both males and females of your age group. Chasing down that leprechaun was more impressive than you probably realize. You know how many people could catch one of them? Maybe one in ten thousand.”

  Claire knew she was fast. She knew her reaction time was better than the guys back in high school, despite the fact that she’d never played sports. None of that really mattered right now. She turned her gaze from Lance to Remington.

  “That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t answer my question. What did he mean by “Told you” when referring to Frank?”

  Remington smirked and glanced at Lance. “Now I told you.” He looked at Claire. “There are two other things we know about you. You’re smart, which was what I meant. You immediately saw we weren’t answering your question. Can I be honest with you?”

  Claire tapped hard on the paper. “If you want me to even consider this, you’d better be.”

  “There’s a bit of a disagreement between my partner and me regarding what skills will be the most important in the upcoming battle. I believe it’s a person’s physicality and intelligence. Lance is convinced that it’s another part. Their empathy.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “Two things put us onto you. For me, it was you chasing down a leprechaun through a crowd. We heard about it and immediately started looking into you. The second thing was how you didn’t hurt the creature. You, in fact, befriended him. Now you’re hanging out with him daily. You probably understand that mythological being as well as he understands himself. Lance believes it’s going to help us fight them.”

  “Why?” Now both of Claire’s eyebrows were raised. She didn’t know what answer she’d expected, but not this.

  “Because you’ll understand the enemy as well as they understand themselves.” Remington leaned forward on the table and touched the corner of the paper. “This offer is good for forty-eight hours. We know your monetary situation. Everything is paid for. Travel, books, equipment—”

  “Equipment?” Claire interrupted.

  “You’re not going to be fighting these creatures with your bare hands,” he told her. “You’re going to have access to the best weapons available.”

  Claire chuckled disbelievingly. “I’m eighteen, and I’ve never touched a gun in my life. The government’s just going to give me one?”

  Without moving anything but his mouth, Lance muttered. “Told you again.”

  Claire’s eyes flashed to him, her face stern. “Lance, I’m starting not to like you very much.”

  Remington finally smirked. “Well, Lance likes you. He just thinks you’re extremely stubborn, which you are. It’s okay. We think it helps your profile, not hurts it. We give eighteen-year-olds guns all the time during war and ship them to other countries. We’re not talking about guns here, though. We’ll be fighting this invasion...differently.” He looked at the paper again and tapped it gently. “Everything is paid for. You’re old enough to sign up without your parents’ permission, but we know you still live with them due to financial reasons. We know you’ll want to discuss it with them—”

  “You seem to know everything, Special Agent Remington.” She looked at Lance with narrowed eyes. “You both do.”

  “We’re trying to save the world here. We’re trying to get you to help us. In forty-eight hours, that offer is off the table.”

  Claire reached down and took the piece of paper. She folded it again and put it on her lap. “You two practice such dramatic flair?”

  “It comes with the job.” Both men stood up and stepped back. “Your country needs you. The world needs you. We hope you come along with us.”

  Chapter Two

  After the Men in Black guys left the bowling alley, Claire sat there for a few minutes by herself, just staring at the empty lanes.

  It took her a little while to stand up and catch the bus home. She was in a daze, unable to quite process what was happening to her.

  Claire didn’t love the life she’d inherited, but it was her life, and so she’d accepted it. She’d known that she would grow up, graduate high school, then get a job at one of the fast-food restaurants and probably end up being a manager there.

  It wasn’t like the lives of the famous people she saw on television, but it was still a life. She never thought s
he was too good for it.

  She stared out the bus window watching as the town passed by.

  It was her town.

  And now she was being told that it didn’t have to be. Those men with their letter had told her she could leave it, and everything would be paid for, and the life she’d always thought would be hers would no longer be.

  The bus finally pulled up to her stop, and she got off. She walked the block south to her small two-bedroom house and into the front door.

  “Mom! Dad! We gotta talk!” she called as she closed the door behind her.

  “We’re in the kitchen!” came the reply.

  Claire crossed the living room, tossing her bag onto the couch on her way through to the kitchen area.

  Her mom and dad were moving around the stove and sink, both of them cooking. They had the day off today, and whenever that happened, they liked to cook together.

  Claire was poor. She had grown up on the poor side of town and seen how a lot of parents in her neighborhood behaved. Fights, both physical and verbal, were the norm. In front of their kids, too.

  Not so in Claire’s house.

  Her parents loved each other, and Claire watched now as they moved around the kitchen.

  Sometimes it grossed her out, how affectionate they were. Light touches on the back. A stolen kiss on the cheek here and there.

  Today, though, she thought she was going to miss it.

  “I’ve got, well, I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news, but I got news.” She walked over to the table and pulled the letter out from her back pocket before sitting down.

  Both of her parents stopped what they were doing and turned around.

  “If you’re pregnant, you’re out of the house.” Her father deadpanned the statement, but couldn’t hold it for long. Especially not when her mom elbowed him in the ribs. He broke out in a grin.

  “What is it, honey?” her mother asked.

  Claire unfolded the letter and pushed it across the table toward them. “That. It’s an invitation to college. Or a college of sorts.”

  Claire shook her head as she stared at the letter, not exactly sure how to explain it. “You know about the Mythological Invasion?”

  Her father nodded and moved to the table. He picked the letter up as her mother stepped to his side, and both started reading it.

  Claire continued talking. “Apparently, it’s not a hoax, and apparently, the government wants me to help stop it.”

  Her dad slowly handed the letter to her mother, having finished it. “This is for real? That letter, it’s real?”

  “Yeah.” Claire sighed. “It’s real.”

  “This thing doesn’t really say much, Claire.” Her mother was holding the letter with both hands, scrutinizing it intensely. “What are you going to do at this college? If you’re fighting an invasion, what are you learning? I mean, is any of this going to be applicable after you get out of the college?”

  Her father walked closer to Claire. “Who cares?! This is great, honey!” He reached down and wrapped her in a giant hug.

  He held on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Your mother and I never had a chance to go to college. It’s wonderful that you will.”

  “Just hold on a second, Bill,” her mother chided. “I’m not agreeing to send my only child to some school that might get her killed.” She let the paper fall to her side. “I need to talk to the college president or dean or whatever they call those people.”

  Bill turned to look at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Her mother didn’t even give him a glance. Her eyes remained on Claire. “Can you get hurt? You’re fighting an invasion.”

  “I don’t know, Mom.” Claire didn’t look up. She knew the argument her parents were about to have, but she also knew it didn’t really matter what they thought. Not when it got down to bare bones.

  “Mary, she’s working at Kickin’ Chickin down the street,” her father interjected. His eyes were large, unbelieving. “This is a godsend. She’s got a chance to go to college, and if that paper is right, the government is the one recruiting her.”

  “No. She’s not going if she can get hurt. I’d rather her safe at Kickin’ Chickin than dead at college.”

  Claire was coming out of the daze she’d been in since hanging out with Frank. Her parents still didn’t know she’d been palling around with a leprechaun, and this was the reason why.

  Her mom would have put an end to it immediately.

  Her mother had always been the protector, and her father the one trying to push her. Claire hid the hard stuff from both because it would only worry them.

  She couldn’t hide this, though. She was moving out of the house.

  Her mom gave her large eyes. “Claire, honey, I just want what’s best for you.”

  Claire shook her head, still not gazing up from the table. Her mother had always wanted what was best for her, or at least she said that. Maybe she just really wanted Claire close by her side, even at the expense of her future.

  “I don’t want to stay here forever,” Claire whispered, a steely determination growing inside her. “I don’t think I realized that until I was given an option.”

  “What do you mean?” her mother’s voice became shrill, as if such an idea had never occurred to her.

  Claire raised her eyes. “I don’t want to work at a place flipping chicken my whole life. I love you. I love Dad, but I don’t want to stay in this town where nothing happens. This is my chance to get out. It’s a chance to do something.”

  Her dad nodded, still standing next to her.

  Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “You could get hurt, Claire-bear.”

  Claire nodded. “Yeah, and I could get robbed at Kickin’ Chickin one night, too. But this is a chance to get out of here. To try.” She tapped her finger hard on the table with the last word.

  “Okay, okay.” Her mother raised her hands, palms out in surrender. “Let’s think about it some, hey? Let’s sleep on it and think about it.”

  Claire shook her head. The steel was taking hold of her spine now, giving her a strength that wasn’t going to break.

  Not for her mother. Not for anyone.

  “I’m going, Mom. I’m going to call the agents today, and then I’m going.” Claire stood up from the table as tears welled in her mother’s eyes. “I love you, Mom. I love Dad, too, but I can’t stay here my whole life. I can’t. I can’t do what you guys do. I wish I could, but I want more. I’m going to go to this college, and I’m going to try to do something worthwhile with my life.”

  Her mother looked like she was about to break right there in the kitchen, just crack and fall apart.

  Claire couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to make her mother cry, but her mind was made up. This might be scary, and it might end badly, but what was the alternative? Putting flour on chicken legs and sticking them in a fryer forever?

  No.

  Not if she didn’t have to.

  Claire left the kitchen and ran down the hall to her room. She closed the door quietly and let her tears go.

  “When are you going to call?” Frank asked. He was sitting on the end of Claire’s bed, his back to her.

  It was dark outside, and Frank had just teleported into her room a few minutes prior.

  Leprechauns, Claire now understood, had the ability to do that.

  He appeared in the same flash of light Claire had seen in the crowd when she was chasing him. Frank had actually teleported further down the path.

  She’d asked him why he didn’t just teleport further away.

  “The longer we teleport, the less control we have over where we land,” he’d replied offhand.

  She’d asked why Frank didn’t just teleport a second time, why he had tried to outrun her.

  “A couple of things.” Frank had informed her, raising a finger. “The first is that the more times we jump in rapid succession, the less distance we can go, and the less control we have. So, I wouldn’t have gotten as much dist
ance if I’d jumped again, and after a few times, I might not even have gone in the direction I wanted.”

  He’d raised a second finger and grinned. “I also didn’t think ye had a chance in Hades of catching me.”

  Claire had smirked. “Well, you were wrong.”

  “Won’t happen again, lass. Bet on that,” Frank had promised.

  Now, Claire sat against her headboard with the covers pulled up to her neck. She hadn’t minded when Frank appeared. She wasn’t sleeping but only thinking. “I told my parents tonight, but I’m going to wait until the morning to call the agents.”

  “Where’s this school at?” Frank stood up from the bed and walked over to the dresser. He picked up one of the ornaments on it and eyed it in the window’s moonlight.

  Claire pointed at her light-fingered friend. “Don’t even think about it, Frank. You’re not taking that.”

  “Wouldn’t consider it, me dear,” Frank’s voice was far away as he turned the curio around in front of his face like a diamond.

  Claire glared for a second, but Frank wasn’t facing her to see it. “The university is in Boston.”

  “That is what I was hoping for.” Frank placed the ornament back down and picked up another. “Boston is a place that appreciates creatures of my kind. Aye, the Irish are the best people to ever grace this pathetic excuse for a universe. I’ll fit in fine up there.”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “You?”

  “Aye, lass. Me. Ye think I’d see ye go up there alone?” Now he did turn around, a wide grin on his face. “I know a good bit about Boston. Truth be told, I’m something of a scholar.”

  Claire’s own small smirk grew on her face. “Frank, the only thing you know a lot about is beer, and from what I can tell, not the good kind. All you drink is garbage down there at the bowling alley.”

  “That’s because we live in a town where there is nothing but swill for the swine. Boston?” His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “That’s a town where they’ll have fine beer on every street corner.”

  Claire chuckled. “I knew you weren’t going for me.”

  “Not true, lass. Ye are going to need me, ye just don’t know it yet.”