“I…I can’t do anymore,” Marissa whispered. “It might kill me.”
Claire nodded without looking at her friend. She saw Lance in the distance. He’d flipped Jack over on his back, and was doing something to her classmate, although Claire couldn’t exactly tell what. Maybe CPR? She glanced at Remington and the dark creature pummeling him with unlimited arms.
Marilyn nodded. “It’s over, dear.”
Claire heard the other witch walking behind her, and watched as she moved next to Marilyn.
Was it? Had they come up here full of piss and vinegar, hope and courage, only to die?
Claire gripped her knife harder, her knuckles turning white. If so, she thought, I’ll die fighting.
It was the flash of light that made Claire pause. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and felt something being shoved into her hand. “Three shots, lass. Make ‘em count.”
She didn’t know how Frank was standing behind her, nor how he’d shoved a gun into her hand, just that she had only moments to stop all this.
Claire didn’t think, only reacted. Everything slowed down, as if time began crawling. She watched as the witches’ eyes widened, both of them shocked at the turn of events. Neither of them had foreseen this, and they were now realizing that it might be too late.
Claire’s hand moved upward in a straight line, her left hand coming to meet the right to steady the gun.
Marilyn’s lips started moving, trying to use the same spell she’d used against Remington.
Magic versus lead.
Claire pulled the trigger.
Marilyn’s lips froze as a hole opened in her forehead. Claire didn’t pause, just turned the gun slightly to the right and angled it down a half-inch. She was thinking of Al as she fired again. Two bullets this time, one tagging Tina in the leg, and the other ripped through her collarbone. Blood poured from her body, and she fell to the ground.
Marilyn’s body was completely limp. There was no life left in her.
Claire blinked.
Remington was struggling, punching upward at the black ghost still on top of him.
“Frank!” Claire called. “Help him!”
“With pleasure, lass.” The bright light again, and then Frank was around the ghost’s neck.
Claire turned her focus to Tina, the still-living witch. Claire could have killed her, but then Al would have died, and Claire would have broken her promise. She hustled over to the fallen witch.
Tina was on her hands and knees, blood leaking onto the concrete beneath her.
Claire brought the pistol to the back of Tina’s head. “Call them off and you’ll live. Call them all off right now.”
“I’m going to die anyway,” Tina spat.
Claire pressed the muzzle harder against her skull. “No. Not from where I shot you. The only way you die is if you bleed to death, and that takes a long time, especially if we decide to help. You can live through this, but you have to call them off.”
Tina turned to look at her fallen comrade. Marilyn’s eyes were still open as if shocked that she had lost. A single trail of blood ran down her forehead.
“You can go like her, or you can live. The choice is yours.” Claire meant it, too. She had no other cards to play.
“Back up.” Tina moved her arm, indicating she wanted some space.
“No, I’m good. You call these creatures off now, or you die. I’m tired of talking.” Her grip tightened on the pistol.
Tina shook her head, but she started to whisper again. Her lips moved in that freakish, soundless way that said magic was occurring.
“Hey! What the…” Frank shouted.
Claire looked at him, careful not to remove the gun from the witch’s head. He was sitting on the ground, watching as the red-eyed spirit flew into the night sky. Claire glanced quickly around the roof, seeing that the rest of the ghosts were fleeing. She didn’t know where, and right now, she didn’t care in the slightest.
Claire looked at the witch once more. “Heal him. My friend. Now.” She shoved the gun harder into the woman’s skull.
The witch’s lips kept moving, and Claire looked over to where Jack and Lance sat. Seconds passed, but she finally saw Jack sit up. It was dark, so she couldn’t see everything perfectly, but she did hear his voice.
“Frank, you aren’t worth this shit.”
Claire let out a sigh, relief flooding her. “Remington, we’re going to need an ambulance, restraints, and whatever the else it takes to keep this bitch alive and detained.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The witch known as Tina lay in a hospital bed, her eyes closed and her breathing normal.
She was unconscious, and had been since they’d loaded her into an ambulance in downtown Miami. It was a drug-induced coma because no one knew what she would be capable of if she awoke.
Since Claire had decided not to kill her, keeping her sedated was of primary concern. The doctors had saved her life, patching up the bullet wounds.
The witch wasn’t being kept at any public hospital. The FBI had moved her to a private clinic.
Claire, Marissa, and Jack stood outside the hospital room, along with the FBI agents, Frank, and Dean Pritcham. The room had transparent sliding doors, and usually guards stood outside it. They’d left a few minutes ago when the university’s team descended on the clinic.
Tough decisions were about to be made.
“You should have killed her.” Lance’s eyes were hard as he looked at the unconscious witch. “It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”
“I for one am glad she didn’t.”
Claire’s head whipped to the right as the sound of rustling leaves filled the small waiting area. She didn’t see any shorts or shirts hanging from a nonexistent body, but she didn’t need to. It was Al doing the talking.
“We had a deal,” the ghost continued. “She honored it. If Tina dies, I die.”
Lance didn’t look in the unseen ghost’s direction. He kept staring straight into the hospital room. “A lot of other ghosts would have died too. Namely, the ones still running around in Miami. It’s been three days, and there’s no chance the place will be livable until this woman is dead.”
Claire understood the heat she was taking now from the FBI agents. While Tina had chased away the ghosts on top of the roof, she’d done nothing for the rest of the city. Then the FBI had drugged her, and now… Well, things were still a mess.
Remington was quiet, standing on the other side of the sliding doors. He was looking in at Tina, too.
“I’m not sure what you want me to do now,” Claire commented. “I certainly am not going to walk in there and smother a prisoner who is unconscious and not a threat.”
Lance turned with both eyebrows raised. “Not a threat? Her mere existence is a threat. As long as she’s alive, the ghosts remain in Miami. If she dies, they do too.”
“And,” Al interrupted, “I’m not okay with that. To be perfectly honest, I’m on the opposite side of this guy here. I think he should probably be fired for…I don’t know? He hangs out with Frank, so probably public drunkenness or some kind of work-related intoxication. Regardless, he should be fired, and his thoughts ignored.”
Claire stifled a smile. Al was a funny bastard when he wanted to be, but he was also right. Claire wasn’t simply going to let him die. That time had passed. “Dean Pritcham, what do you think?”
The dean moved to one of the chairs and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. She stared into the hospital room. “My main concern, as always, is running the university. This is outside my purview, although I know the answer isn’t going to satisfy Claire. What do I think?” She turned her gaze on Marissa. “How far along are you in the Book of Shadows?”
Marissa’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been expecting that question. “I’m better than I was three days ago.”
“You’re still studying it, then?” Dean Pritcham asked.
Marissa nodded silently.
Dean Pritcham’s eyes fel
l back on the hospital bed. “I’m with Claire. I don’t know this Al very well, but he did help us. He brought us to Frank. We told him that we’d keep him safe for helping us. To turn around on that now? It doesn’t seem morally correct.”
Claire saw where the dean was going, and why she’d asked the question of Marissa. Claire looked at Lance. “How much danger is Miami in right now?”
“What do you mean?” the agent asked.
“I mean, how many people are in it? How many people can be harmed?”
Remington straightened up from leaning on the wall. “It’s a ghost town. There’s no one within a fifty-mile radius.”
“Exactly.” Claire nodded. “And the ghosts aren’t leaving, for the most part. Sure, there are a few sightings, but they’re hanging around the city, right?”
“But,” Lance scolded, “we don’t know why that’s happening, and we don’t know how long it’ll last.”
Claire moved over to Marissa. “We don’t need it to last long. Another week, tops. Marissa is the smartest person at the university, and she’s going to understand a lot more out of the book in a week’s time. So, we let Marissa do her thing, and we slowly bring the witch out of the coma. Or we keep her slightly drugged so her powers are less, but Marissa will be able to help control her.”
Remington shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped away from the hospital room. “What are you saying here?”
Claire smiled brilliantly. “We turn Marissa into a witch, bring that bitch out of the coma, force her to reverse the spells in Miami, and make her tell us everything she knows.”
Lance was silent. Remington gazed at Pritcham, who was smilingly slyly. “I’m not sure what I should be more scared of. That you came up with this idea, Dean Pritcham, or that our assassins are gung-ho about turning one of their team into a witch.”
“Hey!” Marissa shouted. “I haven’t agreed to this.”
Jack raised his hand and spoke solemnly. “I also have some strong objections. Mainly to do with the fact that Marissa is untrustworthy, and with that much power, there’s no telling what she might to do.”
Claire smiled. “Only to you, Jack-ass. She likes the rest of us.”
Jack dropped his hand, grinning. “Whatever. Having a witch on our side might help us. I think it’s a good idea. What about you, Frank?”
The leprechaun was sitting in one of the chairs in the back of the waiting room. He had an open beer on his lap, and it was obvious where Al had gone since there was an open beer hovering in the chair next to Frank.
“All I care about is ye idiots finding me somewhere warm to relax. I’m done with the lot of ye. Trouble makers and rabble-rousers.”
“See?” Claire pointed out, still grinning. “Frank agrees. Let’s turn Marissa here into a witch and figure out how to save the world.”
Marissa groaned. “Don’t I have a say in this?”
Claire winked at her. “Only if you’re going to say yes.”
Marissa let out a long sigh. “Fine. But I can’t promise not to turn Jack into a toad.”
Claire laughed. “That won’t bother anyone but Jack.”
The Story Continues
Book three in the series, Paranormal University: Third Semester is coming soon to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Author Notes - Jace Mitchell
November 21, 2019
Dear Reader,
As always, thank you for reading. I don’t think any author who makes a buck in this business ever gets tired of knowing that people actually enjoy his or her work, and so it means a tremendous amount to me that you finished this book.
As always, as well (haha), I’d like to thank Michael for his continual support and guidance on this series, as well as the universe as a whole. He, and the entire company (to which there are a lot of moving parts and people behind the scenes), make this possible.
Amy and I both think the world we’re building in the Unveiled Universe is pretty freaking cool, and we’re excited about what’s coming next—not only in the next book, but perhaps the next series that come out within this universe. We—and those creatures behind the Veil—are setting some really dangerous situations for our current characters to face, and the possibility of future characters having even more drastic challenges.
It’s an exciting time. I’m glad to be a part of it. I’m glad you’re here too.
Tell Yoda to quit snoring, by the way.
All the best,
Jace
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
November 21, 2019
Thank you for reading this story and making it all the way back here in the back for our Author Notes!
Snoring? Someone tell Jace he can stick that “snoring” right up his…wait.. wait.
I just work up from a nap. I hate to admit that through space and time, Jace might be right about me snoring right before I started writing my Author Notes.
So, let’s talk about the Unveiled Universe, ok? I’d rather we not discuss the weird situation of him commenting about me snoring, and my waking up from a nap right before I read his Author Notes. He might get a smirk so large it inflates his ego.
So, I have a blast thinking of all of the opportunities this universe could provide.
Everything that humanity has had lodged in our collective psyche is available to use in our stories.
Want to write about something happening in World War II? Not a problem. In the island jungles of Southeast Asia, the evil warriors of
Their job is to acquire new weapons and start killing again. Eventually, they intend to win the war. War cessation agreements mean nothing to these new enemies. Why? Because they are created from the fears of the grunts, sweating in the mosquito-infested jungles eighty years ago. Every lie they heard about the enemy is real here. Every bit of false information sewn by the enemy has borne fruit.
And thus starts a new guerrilla war, one that our students are going to need to finish.
Want a story of a god? Easy to do. How about one with North American tribal beliefs? Also easy.
Hell, you can make Bonnie and Clyde come back to terrorize the United States banking system one more time.
The future of the Unveiled is limited only by the fans reading it, and our providing stories that capture your imagination enough to read more, and maybe tell a few friends.
May we capture your imagination and release it into the Unveiled Universe—where anything could be just around the corner, even the Easter Bunny.
But don’t go out on Halloween. We all know who might be there.
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael
Books By Michael Anderle
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Jace Mitchell
Jace Mitchell is an Amazon best-selling author of fantasy novels. He lives in Key West with his dog, and when he’s not writing, he’s enjoying a cigar and scotch.
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Paranormal University: Second Semester: An Unveiled Academy Novel Page 23