Ghost of a Chance (Providence Paranormal College Book 8)

by D. R. Perry

  “You’re not wrong.” Lynn Frampton sighed and pulled out her phone, then patted Kimiko’s shoulder.

  “Tony knows now.” Olivia tucked her own phone back in her pocket. “He’s got class all night, though.”

  I would have waited to hear what else they talked about, but Bianca lied and said she had to work. I went with her, of course. Back in her room, she fell into bed without even taking off her shoes.

  I put that right for her, at least. It was still warm enough for her sandals, and nudging a couple of straps was nowhere near as taxing as turning a doorknob. Then, I tucked the sheet and the bedspread around her shoulders. She deserved so much more than anything I’d be able to do for her, or that the others could imagine she’d need. She was one of those people others feel they can say anything to. The kind who hide whatever burdens they have behind a compassionate facade like those brightly-beaded curtains people used to hang in doorways.

  But Bianca Brighton was close to breaking, and if that night was any indication, the situation was about to get even worse.

  Chapter Six

  Bianca

  I stood at the back of the lecture hall, trying not to stare at the woman in front of the class. I’d never seen Delilah Redford actually do anything this academic, which made her seem almost like a different person. She used all those vocabulary words they put on college entrance exams. Even her nasal voice and flat-voweled Rhode Island accent had diminished to nearly nothing. She sounded like she was straight outta Hogwarts instead of straight outta Federal Hill.

  It was more than a little unsettling to watch Mrs. Redford’s teacherly persona. The creepiness factor rivaled Unseelie court history with Lady Amalthea, a Goblin Duchess whose voice sounded like a squeaky wheel. Even an elderly Goblin’s voice wasn’t as bad as the nails-on-chalkboard sound coming from above the ceiling. I averted my eyes and swallowed my curiosity, not wanting to let Mrs. Redford or my classmates down. I’d been called here to fix the ghostly prankster’s wagon, after all.

  Glaring up, I scanned the scalloped tin ceiling for the incorporeal culprit, Rob. He’d been even more of a problem on campus than usual since Mrs. Redford filled in for Professor Watkins. Or maybe it had more to do with Fred Redford, her elder son and the first Redcap knight in the Sidhe Queen’s court in over a hundred years, being off doing his mandatory time in the Under. Rob was supposedly a Redford family ghost. Changes in the family dynamic had a history of affecting them.

  I took a deep breath and focused, targeting my energy at the spot I’d last seen the pesky poltergeist. And I didn’t want to point but had to. The question arose in my mind again. Why couldn't Mrs. Redford handle this problem herself? Maybe she thought it undermined her academic authority, doing stuff that fell under my job description. After all, this wasn’t a course about ghosts or mediums. Ghost wrangling in front of an audience who couldn’t see them wouldn’t make for a good demonstration exercise. But Rob was easily the oldest and most powerful ghost I’d ever encountered. Without my little pal Ed Redford, who was the Colonial ghost's medium, I couldn't expect him to honor simple requests. Rob wouldn’t come down from there unless I reeled him in like a sport fisherman catching a shark. So, that’s exactly what I did.

  Paper and fabric rustled as the entire class turned around to watch me. So I snuck a few glances from the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t realized both Tony and Olivia were in this class. She sat down in the front while he was up in the nosebleed seats near me. I wished one or more of Tinfoil Hat’s other Psychics were there instead—Henry or even Lane could sense the Psychic energy I'd exerted. Without Horace to spot for me, no one in the room would notice if I ran out of steam before dragging Rob out into the open.

  But Olivia’s gaze tilted up at the area overhead and then back at me. She gave me a thumbs-up just as Rob’s translucent tricorn hat emerged from the ceiling like that troublemaking cat in the Seuss book. His eyes looked cartoonishly wide, too, but more alarmed. I smiled, knowing I had him as I crooked one index finger in his general direction. He floated down, slowly and steadily.

  “Listen, I want you to head back home and play Go Fish with Ed or something.” I put my hands on my hips, trying to mimic the authority Mrs. Redford notoriously used. But I wasn’t a mom or even a tiny bit Italian. I wished I had one of her wooden spoons to brandish, at least, for any sympathetic Psychic energy it'd lend. I’d have looked like even more of an oddball than usual, though.

  “Aww, but I’ve got stuff to do here on campus.” Rob pouted. I glared back. The giant yawn that tore its way out of my chest ruined the effect.

  “Fine.” I rubbed one hand down my face before looking back at him. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay in lecture halls or classrooms while Professors are teaching and students are trying to learn. It’s not my rule. Maybe go take that up with Headmistress Thurston.”

  “Already tried it.” Rob shook his head. “She can’t see ghosts. Not in her current state.”

  “Well, duh.” I rolled my eyes. Snark would have to do when authoritative presence didn’t. “You can make an appointment to talk to her when I’m there. Or, you know, that other medium you’ve been acquainted with for the last twenty-four years.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder to indicate Mrs. Redford.

  “You know, for a medium, you sure have a super-sized attitude.” Rob stuck out his tongue, peering over my shoulder at Delilah Redford. His shoulders shook. “Super-sized like your butt.”

  “Seriously? Picking on the diabetic?” I raised an eyebrow. “All you’ve got to say for yourself is a fast-food fat joke?” I shook my head. “From a three-hundred-year-old ghost, I expected some kind of Colonial quip, not sitcom laugh-track fodder like that.”

  “He called you super-sized, didn’t he?” Tony Gitano hissed in Rob’s general direction. The cat shifter looked angrier than I’d have expected for a joke at my expense. “He’s damn lucky Horace ain't here with Blaine's two dads.”

  “Oops.” Rob tilted his hat at me. “I’m sorry for any insult. Tell the cat-man I apologized and I’ll reconsider your request to leave.”

  I relayed his message to Tony and tapped my foot. Rob didn’t move anything except his head. I understood he was looking around the room for any other ghosts. There weren’t any. His lips curled into a sneer that might have made Elvis Presley jealous. I got tired of waiting.

  “Done enough reconsideration?”

  “Almost. But there’s one more thing.” Rob’s smirk twisted like he was in pain. “Something important you should know about…hmm. How should I put this delicately? Ah. An old friend and mentor of yours.”

  “So say it already and stop taking up class time.” With that sentiment, I sent along a hefty dollop of my Psychic energy, attempting to put Rob under a compulsion to vanish once he finished talking. I blinked when I sensed another Psychic’s energy around the old ghost, pushing right back.

  “You can’t trust—” Rob’s voice cut off with a screech that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “I can’t. Sorry. Can’t finish saying that.”

  Before I could check to see whose energy had pushed back at my compulsion attempt, Rob went from translucent to invisible, fading himself out of the lecture hall. He’d told nothing but the truth, even though it couldn’t possibly be the whole truth.

  I sank down into the nearest aisle seat, opened my satchel, and chewed on a Power Bar, the cookies and cream kind. Locking wills with Rob and who or whatever else had a hold on him had taken a lot out of me, and I couldn’t afford to risk a hospital visit. I still had Professor Watkins’ mysterious blue aura to research.

  I stopped to grab more Power Bars at the dining hall before heading across to the library. All they had were the oatmeal kind, with and without raisins. Yucky, but they’d have to do in a pinch. The September night air was cool, but still warm enough for me to grab a cardigan instead of a jacket. I watched people, both the embodied and otherwise, file down Thayer Street on their way to wherever or whoever was important
to them at that hour of the evening.

  I leaned against the wall between the library doors and the bench, taking out my phone to call my mom. She wasn’t too thrilled that I’d kept the job at Providence Paranormal, a decision that had saved us loads in tuition and fees. The downside, however, was that it would take twice as long to graduate. It also meant I stayed on the campus year-round, even over the summer. I missed her, but not Chepachet. I’d grown up in that tiny town, chosen so my family could hide the fact that they were Psychics. Even after the Reveal and the way the laws had been exceptionally easy on our kind, some of the older generation weren’t comfortable with being out about it.

  “Bianca!” The high-pitched squeal in Mom’s voice evoked instant guilt. I had no idea how much time had passed since I’d last called. And she wasn’t the type of mother to nag about it, either.

  “Hi, Mom.” I smiled, not because I felt like it, but so the expression would come through in my voice. I always wanted Mom to think I was happy, healthy, taking care of myself. Especially because most of the time, I wasn’t and didn’t. “How are you?”

  “Amazing now. It’s so good to hear from you, sweetheart!” I heard a click as she put me on speaker. “Are you taking a study break?”

  “Almost done with one. Just about to study some more, actually.” I reached into my satchel, grabbing a packet of raisins. My smile had faltered, and I didn’t want to take the chance that my blood sugar was to blame instead of concern for everyone involved in all the Extramagus madness. Didn’t want to make Mom worried, either.

  “You work so hard, Bianca.” I heard a series of ceramic clinks, which meant Mom was putting the dishes away. I closed my eyes, imagining the earthenware sailing through the air on the wings of Mom’s Telekinesis and settling in place. “Remember to have fun while you’re at school, as well.”

  “I do, Mom.”

  “Well, you haven’t told me much about your classmates lately.” A quiet, good-natured chuckle acted as a prelude to her next question. “How’s that girl? What was her name again, Cassandra?” I heard her snap her fingers three times, something she always did when trying to remember something. “You know. The Precog gal with the Psychic weather app.”

  “Oh!” I sighed, shook my head. “You know, I’m not sure where Cassandra went. Haven’t heard from her since the end of fall semester last year.”

  “Well, you should look her up sometime.” The clinks turned to clatters as Mom moved on from plates to spoons and forks. “Your ghost friend, Horace, is pretty good about reminding you to eat, but he’s not exactly the kind of buddy you bring to a restaurant. How long has it been since you went to East Side Pockets for falafel and baklava?”

  “Way too long, Mom.” I opened my eyes, staring out at the empty library steps, then looked up at the big, cloudless, light-polluted sky. This night's balmy weather was a far cry from the four feet of snow we’d gotten just before exams last December, which was the last time I’d seen Cassandra. “Psychic weather app…” I almost dropped the phone, but all of a sudden, Horace was there. He caught my fingers, pressing them against the glass and plastic. “Mom, my study buddies are here. I’ve got to go hit the books. I love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetie.”

  I waited until Mom hung up like I always did. Then, I tapped the icon for the LORA app that Kimiko Ichiro had installed everyone’s phones over the summer in Newport. “LORA, do a correlation search for Psychic weather apps, the snowstorm last year, and the name Cassandra Spanos.”

  “Correlating. Shall I draw connections to the previously completed conclusions?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, LORA.” I pushed on the library door before remembering I had to pull. Ghosts had it easy in that regard.

  “Thank you for participating in this conclusion-drawing activity.” LORA’s programmed voice response made me chuckle. I tucked the phone away in my pocket before heading inside.

  The tables near the library lobby stood empty and at first I floundered, wondering where everyone else was. I waved to the helper ghosts hovering around the computer and card catalog. Back in January, I’d convinced them to come back to the library after it had a hole torn in it when a Grim attacked vampires on campus. I stopped, standing there and just watching them for a few moments.

  That was why I’d almost forgotten about Cassandra, her potentially coincidental weather app, and her long absence. All the destruction and death. Ever since exam week last December, the ghosts were on edge, and I couldn’t blame them. Most of the living people on campus didn’t think the ice falling on Lynn Frampton’s head was anything but an accident. The ghosts knew better.

  Some of them, especially the ones who’d been Precognitive while alive, could tell when people risked dying. They got downright antsy when that happened. The helper ghosts had gone nuts during Intersession when two vampires had their fangs harvested, and their unlives ended. It had been just as bad right before Spring Break when Wilfred got killed. In fact, a few of the Psychic ghosts hadn’t renewed their contracts with the school, opting for placement elsewhere instead.

  Rob behaved completely opposite during all of that. He was one of the Redford family ghosts, so he was more concerned with them than the school in general. He’d popped in occasionally once Fred started courses at PPC, but Rob had been hanging around more frequently since fall semester started. Rob had to be worried about some kind of mortal danger here at the college, someone important to him or Fred. Tonight he should have been home, protecting Ed, who’d been abducted by Seelies at the beginning of the summer.

  Just as I was about to leave the library and pay the Redford home a visit, Horace popped his head out of a bookshelf and beckoned. I rolled my eyes when he vanished through the stacks again, even though I knew where he’d gone. My woolgathering would have to wait. It might bear more fruit once LORA had some results, anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  Horace

  Usually, when I stuck my head out of something solid, Bianca laughed. She barely cracked a smile this time. I wondered what my partner was thinking but, as usual, couldn’t know. I’d given up asking about a year ago, the last time I’d changed the subject when she wanted to discuss Possession. She was ready, but I wasn’t. Avoiding the hanging topic felt like navigating a room crowded with elephants no one would look at. I stuck my head back through the bookcase again, pulling a funny face this time.

  “Who’s over there?” Bianca’s voice was flatter than a week-old soda.

  “Tony and Kim.” I let my features go back to resting ghost face. “Olivia. Henry Baxter. That new dragon librarian.”

  “You mean Mr. Waban?” She lifted her gaze off the floor.

  “Yeah. The double dragon dad ghosts are there, too.” I sighed. “Don’t worry, I already made them promise not to argue.”

  “Good.” Bianca turned the corner, then walked past the windowed closet that used to be a phone booth before everyone and their grandma had a smartphone.

  The old ghost who lived in there gave Bianca a once-over then dropped me a wink. I nodded instead of rolling my eyes as usual. He had a point. When everyone else thought your relationship was romantic instead of platonic, it might be time to man up, confess, and let the lady decide how it was going to be from then on. My train of thought from before teetered its way back onto the rails. I’d have to tell Bianca how I felt and why it scared me at some point, and soon. But that night we had too much work to do.

  “I have the books you requested, Miss Brighton.” Mr. Waban, the ice dragon librarian, set a small stack of hardback books with threadbare canvas covers down at the unoccupied end of the table. Over on the other side, Tony and Kimiko hovered around the coded letter. The memory Psychic and vampire, Henry Baxter, sat in front of a skinny, rectangular, metal lockbox. He handed an old, chewed pencil to Olivia, who put a checkmark in a notebook with a red pen, then set the pencil inside a shoebox.

  “LORA, note that I erased a memory of Richard Hopewell’s from back when we we
re twelve. He used magic to cheat on an exam in eighth grade, but never told me what kind or how.” Henry sighed and shook his head, then used a stylus to shut off the app’s voice capability. “I can’t figure out why I kept helping him.”

  “Why do any of us help each other?” Bianca sat down in front of the small pile of books and grabbed the one on top.

  “Because coincidence threw us all into this together, probably.” Olivia didn’t look up from her notebook. “Would take a team of master Magi months to find out for sure, though. The silver dollar’s next on this list, Henry.”

  “Ugh.” Henry rubbed his eyes. “I need some air first, I think.”

  “You mean a cigarette?” Tony looked up from the codebreaking, his grin reminding me of the cat who hadn’t quite eaten the canary yet but knew the cage stood open.

  “Those will kill you, cat-man.” Kimiko clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Blaine will be upset. Says he’s got dibs.” She blew a raspberry.

  “Hey, cats are supposed to have nine lives, right?” Tony shrugged, then slid his chair back and stood up. “I don’t smoke, anyway, but we need a break. Gonna get a coffee or whatever instead.”

  “Here, got something for you.” I hadn’t even seen Olivia’s hand go in her bag, but she stopped Tony in his tracks with the thermos she held up. “It’s hot and light, only a little bit sweet.”

  “Really?” Tony blinked. “You don’t want it?”

  “Don’t need as much coffee as I used to.” Olivia let go of the thermos, and even though Tony didn’t touch it, it landed on his upturned palm.

  “Okay,” Tony mumbled. He stalked after his vampire friend, holding the beverage.

  Bianca watched them leave, then turned to look at Olivia. “Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

  “What?”

  “That he never thanks you for anything?”