First Semester

by Jace Mitchell

  “How do you figure?” Claire asked. She was feeling a bit better now, better than she had all day, in fact.

  Frank was a jackass, but he was her jackass.

  “Well, for one, the Veil is weaker up there. It’s letting through more creatures like ye fine friend Frank here, but not all of them have such good intentions. While in yer corrupt human world, I cannot find a job, but among those from beyond the Veil, I will be esteemed. What ye refuse to give me.” Frank flicked his hand, dismissing Claire’s interruption. His grin returned. “I can keep my ear to the streets, as the kids say. Either way, I’m going. Ye don’t have any choice, lass.”

  Claire almost had to laugh. He sounded just like she had with her parents. “I’ll be working with the people who are trying to capture you.”

  “Yes, and that’s something ye will have to deal with when you meet yer maker. But for now, I’m going to try to keep ye from meeting him—or her, since yer fine friend Frank is not a sexist.” Frank’s left hand snuck behind him to the dresser to palm one of the ornaments.

  “Not on your life.” Claire shook her head. “Drop it.”

  Frank’s face grew wide in mock surprise. He held the ornament in front of his face, staring at it in bewilderment. “I don’t know what yer talking about, nor how such an object got in me hand. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s ye that has magic and might have placed this trinket here to trick an innocent leprechaun.”

  Claire hopped up from the bed, and the blanket fell away, revealing the old, oversized t-shirt she slept in instead of wasting her hard-earned money on fancy pajamas like Rachel’s.

  She snatched the small glass angel from Frank’s fingers. “All right, go home, Frank. I’ll call them tomorrow. How are you getting to Boston? I know the FBI isn’t going to give you a ride.”

  “Aye, lass. I wouldn’t take one from those prejudiced ne’er-do-wells, anyway. Leprechauns are self-sufficient, I’ll get there just fine. Ye need not worry about me.” Frank stepped over to the window. “I’ll see ye in Boston.”

  A thin silver light flashed in the middle of Frank’s chest and the leprechaun was gone, leaving Claire alone in her room.

  She’d made up her mind that she was going to this new college, regardless of what her parents thought.

  Staring at where Frank was a moment before she thought, I’m glad he’s coming too.

  Chapter Three

  Claire made it to the university, although the entire trip left her feeling like she’d been thrown into a whirlwind.

  From the first call to Remington until she boarded the plane, it took only a few hours. The FBI had kept one of their own planes overnight for her, ensuring if she said yes, there wouldn’t be much delay.

  Claire had never seen a city as large as Boston before. As the car rolled through the streets, she stared up at buildings that appeared to stretch into the heavens. Claire couldn’t even think of missing her parents or home, she was too enamored with the world around her.

  I’ve only seen things like this in pictures, she marveled.

  As for the university building itself, Claire’s lips parted in awe when she saw it.

  The car turned onto the entrance of a horseshoe driveway. If that wasn’t fantastical enough, the sprawling construction at the end of the driveway blew Claire’s mind.

  She leaned against the door and stared at the building, still open-mouthed. “You must have the wrong address,” she told the driver.

  “No, ma’am. This is the place.”

  Claire didn’t reach for the door handle. She didn’t roll the window down. She didn’t move.

  Truthfully, she felt like she had when first meeting Frank, a creature from another plane of existence. Because of the luxury in front of her now? It had to be from another universe, certainly not meant for her.

  To call it a house would be like calling a dragon a bird.

  The mansion sprawled forever, or as near to forever as Claire could see. Two massive double doors sat beneath Greek-style columns, with windows lining the entire front of the building. Claire had caught a glimpse of the lawn as they pulled in, and impossibly, the property was larger than the actual house.

  A mansion, she thought. That’s what I’m looking at. Not a school, but a mansion for the rich and famous.

  “This isn’t a college.” Now Claire turned to the driver. “Someone must live here. A movie star or something.”

  The driver’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “The federal government purchased the property a couple of years ago, during the first tear in the Veil.”

  “You’re with the FBI?” Claire raised an eyebrow.

  The driver nodded and turned his face back to the windshield. “Everyone you meet within this operation is with the FBI. Even your professors are contracted to work for the Bureau.”

  Claire swallowed, suddenly feeling a weight on her shoulders. “Well, let’s hope I don’t flunk out and end up in one of your black sites somewhere.” She offered a weak smile.

  The driver didn’t take to the joke, just continued to stare out of the window. “Have a good day at school, Ms. Hinterland.”

  The trunk popped, and Claire knew that was her cue to grab her bags.

  Remington had told her to bring only two, and that everything else would be provided. Claire had crammed as much as she could into those two bags, and despite her strength, they were heavy.

  Her gaze was fixed on the three stories in front of her as she left the vehicle and walked around to grab her bags from the trunk. I hope I’m on the ground floor.

  Claire headed to the front doors. Once there, she placed her bags down and stared at them for a few moments, listening to the vehicle pull off behind her.

  It hit Claire all at once. She was alone now. No way to turn back. She didn’t even have a cell phone since her parents couldn’t afford the expense, and she certainly wasn’t wasting her hard-earned money on one when they had a perfectly good landline at home.

  The steel in her spine returned. “Don’t start thinking like Mom now,” she whispered to herself. “Alone doesn’t mean anything but an opportunity to meet new people. If you don’t want to be alone, you can always go home and hang out with Wilma and Myra at the Kickin’ Chickin.”

  That thought made her raise her hand to knock on the door.

  She paused, thinking, what is the etiquette when entering a mansion? They don’t teach that in high school. Knock? Ring the doorbell? Don’t do anything and demand a butler come get the bags?

  She was just about to knock when the door swung slowly open and revealed a kindly-looking old lady. She came up to Claire’s shoulders and had straight white hair that cupped her face. She was plump, but that only added to the friendliness Claire felt coming from her.

  “May I help you?” The matronly lady smiled and Claire returned it, unable to help herself.

  The lady looked Claire over. “Claire Hinterland, I presume? You may address me as Miss Reilly.”

  Her accent was decidedly English, and the entire scene grew more surreal.

  Never met an English person before, Claire thought as she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re late. The first class has already started.” Without dropping her smile, Miss Reilly waved at Claire’s luggage. “Come along. I’m not in the business of carrying luggage or else I’d be working at an airport, wouldn’t I? Pick your bags up and follow me.” She clapped her hands to snap Claire from her daze. “Chop-chop, dear. Professor Byron doesn’t take kindly to people walking in after he’s started talking.”

  Miss Reilly’s smile broadened just a bit more, glee crinkling the corners of her eyes. She held Claire’s gaze for a second, then turned and walked into the house, obviously expecting Claire to follow.

  “Well, that’s a good start,” Claire whispered sarcastically. She reached down and grabbed her bags, then followed her into the mansion.

  Chapter Four

  Claire arrived at her class, sweating, out of breath, and quite honest
ly pissed off after hustling her ass to follow Miss Reilly up three flights of stairs to her room, lugging her own bags the entire way.

  She’d dropped everything on her bed, grabbed a notebook and pen, then practically flown to the mansion’s other wing to make it to class before she missed too much.

  This wing of the mansion had obviously been remodeled. Claire opened the door and found herself in what looked to be an actual lecture hall instead of a bedroom.

  The floor slanted downward so that each successive level of the tiered seats had a view of the white-haired professor standing at the bottom.

  “Excuse me?”

  Sonofabitch! Claire exclaimed silently as she closed the classroom door behind her. She’d hoped to just walk in, sit down, and start learning.

  No such luck.

  “Excuse me?” the professor repeated, his pitch rising with indignation.

  Claire looked up, taking in the room quickly as she did.

  It was a large room, though only eleven people filled the seats, each one of them sitting in the third row.

  “Are you lost?” the professor asked. He was a tall, skinny man with a severe face. He looked as if he hadn’t had a happy thought in perhaps a century or two, and thus the muscles had forgotten how to form a smile.

  Based on how old he looks, I’m guessing he served in the Revolutionary War. Probably was a turncoat. Fought for the British. Claire offered him a polite smile. “This is Veil and Invasion Theory, right?”

  The professor shook a finger at Claire. “That’s correct, but you did not answer my question. Are you lost?”

  You prick, Claire thought. You know I’m not lost. No one just stumbles onto a FBI site, gets inside, and finds your class.

  She decided discretion was the better of valor and did her best to keep from letting her anger show. “I’m Claire Hinterland. Apparently, the recruiters got to me late. I’m sorry, Professor Byron. It won’t happen again.”

  “Ms. Hinterland,” the professor mused, stringing out her last name like a song lyric. He raised a hand in the air and waved toward himself. “Please, don’t sit in the back. Come down to the front, and let’s all be friends.”

  Now we’re friends? Claire said nothing, but walked down the steps and sat at the first open seat on the third row.

  A girl with long blonde hair sat next to her. Claire only caught a glance, but that told her everything she needed to know.

  I’m late, and now sitting next to the prettiest girl in the whole school. Could the day get any worse?

  Professor Byron smiled thinly. “Thank you for joining us, Ms. Hinterland. I presume that you met Ms. Reilly on your arrival?”

  Claire nodded, wishing this whole episode would end. Her face wasn’t red from embarrassment yet, but if this guy didn’t give her a break, it would be, and then she’d probably be unable to hold her tongue.

  The professor nodded as though Claire had just revealed some deep philosophical truth to him. “Did Ms. Reilly let you know that I loathe it when people are late to my class?”

  Claire nodded again.

  The professor took a step toward the front row. “Did Ms. Reilly happen to tell you why I loathe it?”

  No, Claire thought. She also didn’t give me your date of birth, social security number, or sexual proclivities.

  “No, sir,” she replied, her voice gravelly. She felt the steel firming up in her spine again and was starting to think she may be expelled before she wrote her first word down on paper.

  “Well, let this be your first lesson, Ms. Hinterland. It’s one I hope serves you well. I know it has me. Being late is a passive-aggressive way of telling the people around you that their time doesn’t matter. That only your time matters. So, today, you have told us all that our time is not important.”

  The professor smiled sadly. “I do hope that in the future, you’ll come to respect us more, and think that our time and lives matter as much as yours.”

  “I apologize.” Claire’s hands gripped the bottom of her seat so tightly that her knuckles were white. She could feel the bones in her hands straining. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I’m sure it won’t.” He held her gaze for a second, then stood a step back. He clapped once, the sound cracking through the classroom. “Now, let us return to the subject at hand, shall we? The Veil.”

  The professor turned around to a table behind him and grabbed a binder, then walked to the front row. He handed it to Claire, who took it without a word.

  Claire placed the binder on the small table attached to her seat and opened the cover. A single sheet of paper was titled The Veil & Invasion Theory.

  “Ms. Hinterland, I’m not going to explain this binder to you, since that would be wasting everyone else’s time. If you can’t figure it out, please ask one of your classmates later.”

  Claire looked up from the binder to nod, but the professor was no longer watching her. Instead, he’d backed up and was facing the class again.

  “Now, where were we? Can someone please remind me? My train of thought has been thrown from its rails and is careening to a fiery crash in which everyone aboard will most likely burn alive. It is a terrible thing. Can someone save us?”

  A young woman on the far end of the row lifted her hand.

  The professor dropped his head in mock exasperation. “Oh, Ms. Drins, this is not elementary school. There is no need to raise your hand and wait for me to call on you. I have asked a question. When you are talking to others and they ask a question, do you raise your hand? No, I think not. Please, just tell me the answer. What were we talking about?”

  Claire looked down the row at Ms. Drins. Her face was bright red, and Claire immediately felt pity for her.Might be best if you don’t remind him, Ms. Drins, and let him die in that fiery crash, she thought.

  “You were explaining what the Veil is,” Drins answered.

  The professor nodded without looking up from the floor. “Ah, that’s right. What the Veil is. Very good. First things first, no one actually knows what the Veil is. That may sound like a cop-out, but regardless of what the FBI is paying me I did not come here to lie to you. We have ideas, but we don’t know. Now, at orientation you were told to read the first chapter in your binders. In said chapter, you will have been introduced to the most likely of the hypotheses that have been put forward by the scientific community. Please, for the love of all that is holy, can someone tell me what it said?”

  He didn’t move, didn’t raise his head, but simply waited for the answer.

  Ms. Drins continued as if they were the only two in the class.

  Claire had seen people like this before in school. The overachievers.

  “It’s a border between Earth’s reality and another reality. We have a few guesses as to what it might be, but our best guess is a new type of matter called Titan Matter—”

  “Yes, Titan Matter!” The professor interrupted her reply, light in his eyes for the first time. Real excitement now, not just piss and vinegar toward the class. “Why do we call it that, Ms. Drins?”

  “It’s named after the Greek Titans,” she responded.

  She sounded just as interested as the professor, though Claire didn’t know if it was the subject matter or simply being right.

  The professor nodded then began to pace slowly across the room, his hands behind his back. “Titan Matter. I myself named it. There are other types of matter, namely, baryonic matter, which is the type we are traditionally able to interact with, and what scientists called Dark Matter. Dark Matter is somewhat trickier to pin down since our only way to observe it is by tracking its effect on the objects around it.”

  A new voice interrupted. “It’s invisible? Sounds like bullshit to me.”

  Claire looked along the row. Sitting slumped deep into his seat three chairs over from her was a guy with short brown hair. His binder wasn’t opened, and he had neither pen nor paper in front of him.

  The professor stopped his pacing and turned to look at the guy. “I wou
ldn’t term it that way, Mr. Teams. Since I’m an educated person, I would say it’s the place of science to disprove the theories that came before as we advance in knowledge and ability.”

  The guy smirked but didn’t sit up. “So Titan Matter is bullshit, too?”

  The professor sighed. “If you are the best we have, then we are indeed doomed. Regardless, I must go on with my endeavors as any good soldier would. Please, Mr. Teams, keep your vulgar opinions inside your vulgar head and let the rest of us continue on in our less animalistic ways.”

  Claire watched the professor resume his pacing lecture, unconcerned by Teams and his careless attitude.

  The class had started out awfully, and she didn’t rate the other students highly so far. The girl at the end seemed to be trying to make an A, as if that mattered. Teams was an asshole, plain as the jackass grin on his face.

  However, Claire was fascinated by Professor Byron’s lecture.

  This was cutting edge stuff.

  This explained Frank.

  “Titan Matter is easier to observe than Dark Matter. The proof, you ask? All the mythological creatures now running amok in our society. We’ve seen the Veil, or, rather, it becomes visible to the human eye when it breaks. Otherwise, it’s as invisible to us as Dark Matter. There are two instances of a rip being recorded, although we can easily hypothesize that the actual rate of occurrence is much higher due to the volume of mythological creatures crossing over.”

  The professor paused in his flow to give the students time to absorb the mass of information he was providing before continuing.

  “My hypothesis states that the Veil is made up of Titan Matter, a completely new state of energy. Right now, governments are spending a tremendous amount of money to understand it, but that is not relevant to our current purposes. More, based on the quality of intelligence I sense in this room, you will likely not understand it, so I will not waste our time.”

  The professor stopped pacing and faced the class with his hands clasped behind his back. “Which one of the geniuses before me can recite what your binder says is happening to the Veil?”