Paranormal University- Second Semester

by Jace Mitchell

  Paranormal University: Second Semester

  Paranormal University™ Book Two

  Jace Mitchell

  Michael Anderle

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2019 Jace Mitchell & Michael T. Anderle

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  This book is a Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, November 2019

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-591-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-592-7

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Author Notes - Jace Mitchell

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  Paranormal University: Second Semester Team

  Thanks to our Beta Readers:

  Mary Morris, Larry Omans, Kelly O’Donnell, Michael Baumann

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Jeff Eaton

  Mary Morris

  Diane L. Smith

  Dave Hicks

  Jackey Hankard-Brodie

  Misty Roa

  Jeff Goode

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  SkyHunter Editing Team

  For Tucker. No one could ask for a better friend.

  — Jace

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Chapter One

  “This is the life,” Frank whispered to himself. He took a sip of his beer, then placed it back on his lap and stared out at the beach. An umbrella sat next to him, casting a shadow down at the perfect angle—one where he could either people watch or simply fall asleep.

  He took another sip of the beer. “Claire can keep the north and its cold weather.”

  Frank had been in Miami for the past month, and he was seriously considering staying—forever. Sure, he’d miss Claire, but…

  Well, there’s something to be said for the sun, waves, and a dearth of vampires, he thought.

  A woman walked in front of Frank’s chair, her eyes scanning him briefly. She didn’t see Frank for what he was—a leprechaun. Rather, she saw Frank as a slightly odd-looking man. A very short man.

  Frank raised his eyebrows suggestively and offered a smile. “I have some more beer if ye're interested.”

  The woman quickly glanced away and picked up her pace as she continued walking down the beach.

  Frank rolled his eyes. “So many speciesists in this place. It’s sickening.”

  It’d been four months since the vampiric invasion in Boston, and Frank had seen no more of the cult or its summonings. Sure, the occasional Veil breakage still made the news. The other day a Lichphane had shown up in a Macy’s in Texas. The Myther with the head of a dog and the body of a bat flew around bashing into things and causing a scare, yet nothing too serious came of it.

  The Veil was still tearing, but his mind was set.

  Not my concern, Frank thought with a smile. No, he’d done his duty, and now he was retired. Let Claire fight the battles up north. Frank was content to sit on this beach and watch the beautiful women walk past—even if they all gave him the stink-eye.

  Frank stretched in his chair, deciding to take a little nap before heading back to his hotel room. His help with defeating Dracula had done a good bit to boost Frank’s monetary status, and the FBI had found no problems with setting him up in Miami.

  All I had to do was agree to help if they needed it again, he thought. But what are they going to do? Force me back up north? Hard to catch a leprechaun.

  He had just pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes, ready to snooze when something caught his attention.

  There were a shirt and pants blowing in the wind.

  Not like blowing across the sand, but standing upright, as if someone were inside them.

  Frank sat up in his chair and leaned forward, almost spilling his beer. “Damn it,” he grumbled, checking to make sure he hadn’t wasted any.

  He looked back up.

  The shirt and pants were still there, simply standing.

  Frank pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. He looked again. The clothes were walking, and that simply wasn’t possible because no one was wearing them.

  Frank slowly stood up, his green toes burying into the sand. He looked around the beach, seeing if anyone else was noticing this, but the rest of the tourists were apparently oblivious.

  They don’t see anything, Frank thought. His eyes went back to the shirt and pants. They were walking toward him.

  Frank absently dropped his sunglasses onto the chair. He’d never seen anything like this before. Is it something from behind the Veil?

  The shirts and pants stopped about five feet in front of him. The arm—or rather, the shirt—raised up and appeared to be waving at him. Frank couldn’t actually tell because there wasn’t any freaking hand.

  “What are ye?” he asked.

  The shirt and pants came closer.

  “Careful now,” Frank grumbled, his left foot moving back just a tad. He wasn’t scared, per se. He just didn’t know what to expect.

  The shirt and pants stopped about three feet from Frank.

  “Can ye hear me?” he asked.

  The arms of the shirt both raised up to their sides, and Frank imagined invisible palms turned upward as if saying, “Who knows?”

  Frank’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know exactly what to do right now. He was staring at a pair of pants and a shirt, but with no one inside them.

  How drunk am I? Frank wondered. He was having a conversation with something that might not exist.

  Just then, the invisible right arm darted out and took Frank’s beer from his hand.

  “Hey! Ye bastard!” Without thinking, Frank reached out to grab the beer.

  The pants had backed up, though, and the beer had been turned upside down and was now draining into where a face should have been.

  Frank stopped chasing and watched as the clothes fled toward the ocean.

  “I don’t believe it,” he muttered. The beer was disappearing, looking like it should simply fall to the sand, but instead flowing into a mouth-shaped nothin
g.

  Someone was inside the shirt, Frank just couldn’t see them. They were drinking his beer!

  “Ye son-of-a-bitch!” he screamed across the sand. He didn’t know what the hell was going on besides the fact that his beer was being consumed by someone invisible.

  The whoever-it-was drained the last of the alcohol from the can, and Frank watched as it crunched in midair as the someone squeezed the aluminum.

  Then the invisible arm launched the beer can at Frank, and whoever it belonged to had impeccable aim.

  Frank’s eyes widened as the can flew directly at his head. He barely had time to duck as the invisible assailant hurled verbal abuse along with the projectile.

  “Fuck you, Leppy!”

  Frank’s eyes flashed back toward the beach in time to see the shirt and pants running down it. He could hear the son-of-a-bitch laughing, although it didn’t sound human.

  Frank didn’t move. He simply listened to the laughter. Frank hadn’t ever seen anything like this before, but he’d heard rumors. He watched the figure streak away and then turned around to stare at the crumpled beer can.

  Was that a ghost? he wondered.

  “He’s ridiculous.”

  “Without a doubt.” Claire shook her head as she and Marissa watched Jack from across the lobby. He was sitting in an overstuffed chair, legs crossed, showing a group of new classmates the scar on his arm.

  All of the listeners were female, of course.

  Marissa’s eyes narrowed as she stared. “What do you think he’s telling them?”

  “Oh, you know,” Claire answered. “How he saved Boston, single-handedly fought off a horde of vampires. He’s probably telling them he has Dracula’s head mounted in his dorm room, and if they want to come up there sometime, he’d love to show it to them.” She cracked a smile at the last bit.

  “You think they’re buying it?” Marissa asked.

  Claire studied the three girls around Jack. All of them were obviously eating up what he was saying. One of them was leaning so close to see the scars, she might actually fall on top of him. “Without a doubt.”

  “Come on, we better get to class.” Marissa cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled across the lobby. “Hey, Jack-ass! Time to get to class—if your fan club will let you!”

  Claire’s smile grew wider. She was happy that Marissa felt comfortable enough to holler in front of their younger classmates. Six months ago, she wouldn’t have even looked up from her feet, let alone told Jack to hurry up and get to class.

  Jack said something to the three girls surrounding him, causing them all to laugh. Then he stood up and grabbed his bag and walked across the lobby to the rest of his unit. “I sense some jealousy, Marissa.”

  “Oh, they’ll get to know you quickly enough. Then they’ll think of you just like we do,” Marissa shot back as the three started toward class.

  “And how’s that?” Jack shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a bag of Skittles.

  “The name is Jack-ass, is it not?” Claire asked in a fake English accent.

  “I can’t help it if the younger students like hearing about my war stories.” Jack ripped the top of the Skittles bag open and popped a few into his mouth. “I would be remiss if I didn’t educate them about something they might face in the near future.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Really? I’m sure none of this has to do with you hoping to bed one of our new classmates, is it?”

  Jack’s eyebrows raised, and his eyes widened. He put his free hand over his chest. “That’s despicable, Ms. Hinterland. I would never try to use my growing legend for sexual favors.” His mock surprise dropped and a grin shot across his face. “I use my natural charm, good looks, and big…feet for that.”

  Claire laughed and shook her head as they reached their classroom. She pulled the door open and let the other two in first.

  Four months had passed since they killed Dracula, and the second semester was underway. The FBI had been true to its word, not only boosting Claire’s class with more students, but they’d brought in thirty others who were starting a semester behind. They were trying to fill the school up as quickly as possible, but finding people with the right attributes wasn’t exactly an easy task.

  Dr. Byron stood with his back to them in his usual place at the bottom of the tiered lecture room. He paid no attention as the students walked in, too busy adjusting some papers on the table.

  Jack led the way, and the three headed to the middle of the room and then scooted to the middle of that row.

  Dr. Byron had loosened up a bit on the seating arrangements this semester. “You can sit where you like now. I will make the newest in the class sit at the very front until they earn their keep.”

  Claire pulled out her binder on Longest Lasting Myths and opened it to where they’d left off in the last lesson.

  Marissa was doing the same, while Jack had simply slumped deeply into his chair.

  The original students sat in front of them, some in the same row. Claire knew them all well now, as the end of last semester had gone as any college year would—besides the fact they were learning about mythological creatures and how to kill the ones threatening Earth.

  Dr. Byron turned around, facing the class and folding his hands in front of him. “Mr. Teams, you do not find it necessary to open your binder?”

  Jack grinned. “I read it all last night.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Dr. Byron responded, his face showing as much belief in Jack as he might a con man.

  Claire knew the real reason Jack wasn’t opening the binder. It was the blonde sitting closer to the front. Her name was Samantha, and apparently, she was some kind of superstar because they’d let her skip the first semester and jump right into the second with Claire’s class.

  Jack may talk to the other girls, but he actually likes her, Claire thought

  This was some odd attempt at trying to impress Samantha.

  Dr. Byron raised an eyebrow, and Jack finally relented. He reached into his bookbag, pulled out the binder, and flipped it open.

  Samantha didn’t turn around, although Claire caught Jack glancing at her.

  Claire leaned over to him. “Might want to try being a nerd. She doesn’t seem to care too much for your usual Jack-ass bit.”

  “What are you talking about?” he whispered back.

  Claire shook her head and then turned her focus back to class.

  “Now that Mr. Teams has decided to join us in our venture forward, we can begin.” Dr. Byron turned and started slowly pacing. “Why do you think this specific class is important? Can someone tell me?”

  Samantha spoke. “Because we’re most likely to meet creatures that have been believed in throughout human history.”

  Marissa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she listened to the answer. “Close,” she whispered to Claire.

  “Ms. Hallor, what was that?” Dr. Byron asked without looking toward her.

  Claire smirked as Marissa’s face turned red. She might be brave enough to yell across a lobby, but she still didn’t want to be called out in class.

  “I-I-I—”

  Dr. Byron stopped pacing and turned to her. “Please, don’t stutter so much. I may have to say something smart, and then Ms. Hinterland next to you will berate me for being too tough on you. It’s a whole endeavor that we’ve seen before, and in the end, I don’t really want a tongue lashing from her. So, please, enlighten the class with what you were saying, sans the stuttering.”

  Marissa stared down at her open binder. Claire was still smirking because she knew Dr. Byron was messing with them. Six months ago—on Claire’s first day—she had ripped into him for how he talked to Marissa. But now she understood Dr. Byron liked them; he just showed it in an odd way.

  “I said she was close,” Marissa repeated.

  “But not completely accurate?” Dr. Byron raised an eyebrow.

  Marissa shook her head. “No. At least, not the way she stated it.”

  Dr. Byron g
estured in a forward motion with his hand. “Please continue.”

  The red in Marissa’s face was dying away as her mind snapped into gear. “Likelihood of being seen doesn’t have much to do with how long a creature has been believed in. The likelihood mainly depends on what is summoned over. Now, in a random situation, yes, Samantha is right.”

  “What do you mean by a ‘random situation?’” Dr. Byron used air quotes as he spoke the last few words.

  “Well,” Marissa continued, finally looking up. “The Veil is breaking down, so there is an increasing frequency of occurrences. In that sense, it’s more likely that something which has been believed in for a long time will cross over. However, for much of what we’re training for, that’s not the major concern.”

  Claire glanced down at Samantha. The girl was looking at Marissa, as was the rest of the class. She didn’t appear to have any ill will. Rather, she was interested in Marissa’s explanation. The rest of the class already understood Marissa’s brainpower. This was new to Samantha.

  “What is the major concern?” Dr. Byron asked.

  Marissa’s reply was serious. “In regards to the current question, the major concern is how many hazardous creatures can be summoned.”

  Dr. Byron smiled without humor. “Correct. Let’s look back a bit to the recent past when we had a bad rash of vampires crossing over, shall we?”