“Wait a second.” Jack leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “You sent him down there and set him up, and you can’t find him?”
“That’s not exactly true,” Remington corrected. “He’s got an expense account, but we didn’t book anything for him. We don’t know his hotel or anything like that because he’s been drawing cash from the account instead of having things charged to the card we gave him. We were hoping he might have talked to you, Claire.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t heard a word from him since he left.”
“Do you have any way to get a hold of him?” Lance asked.
Claire glanced up in the air, thinking. “Hmmm… I really don’t think so. Frank doesn’t have a cell phone. He shows up when he wants to hang out, and when he doesn’t, I just have to wait. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, though, so he would usually come around.”
Jack leaned back and looked at Claire. “Looks like he got tired of being your friend?”
Claire looked over at him with an eyebrow raised. “Careful.” Her voice was icy, and Jack’s grin died immediately. She didn’t like Frank’s disappearance and honestly felt a little hurt by it.
Jack slowly turned and looked at the agents. “So, subject at hand. Frank, right?”
Remington chuckled. “Now you’re learning, kid. Don’t piss off the women in your life.” He gestured with his hand at Claire. “We’d like to get in touch with him. If he contacts you, will you see if we can set up some kind of group call? We don’t want to pull him out of Miami yet, not if we can get information over the phone.”
“Yeah, of course,” Claire replied with a shrug. “If he calls, I’ll see what he knows. Is that all you wanted with us, to know where Frank is?”
Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if so, you could have just talked to Claire. I’m busy with the books, Agents Remington and Lance. I’m sure you both know how seriously I take my education.”
Lance raised an eyebrow, his face remaining serious. “From what I've heard, the only thing you’re taking seriously is chasing tail.”
Jack grinned. “No way, Agent Lance. I can’t help it if the women have heard of my extraordinary deeds. It’s beyond my control.”
Remington rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch. “Well, we think we’ll probably have to send you three down there at some point.”
Marissa groaned again. “Please, just kill me now.”
“Why would we go down there?” Claire asked.
“Quite simply, people are dying, and we think it’s because of the ghosts.” Lance leaned forward. “More importantly, though, there’s too much activity happening in Miami. Something is going on, and you three are our first and last defense at this point.”
“The other kids?” Claire asked, raising her hands in the air. “They can’t help this time? Some of them have a semester and a half under their belts.”
Remington spoke next. “Who would you like with you, Claire? Are any of them as adept physically as you three? You all know your physical training has been sped up and will continue to be so. Any of them you want in battle next to you if you’re going up against something from across the Veil? They’re not battle-tested.”
“Whose fault is that?” Jack shot back.
Remington shrugged. “I suppose it’s ours, but I’m not sure that has any bearing on the situation. What I’m asking is, who else do you want with you?”
Claire looked at the floor as she thought. Nobody. They’re smart, and all nice enough people. But when the shit goes down, what are they going to do? Jack and Marissa are going to stand next to me no matter what happens. They’ll die standing next to me if it comes to that.
She looked back up and shrugged. “I wouldn’t want any of them with me. Not yet.”
“That’s what I thought,” Remington responded. “We’ve got plans in place to get them battle-ready, but that’s a process that will take another year. Not all of them are like you three.”
“Well, that’s clear.” Jack brushed his hand through his hair like a model. “I mean, this head of hair alone separates me from everyone.”
Without opening her eyes or removing her hand from her brow, Marissa spoke. “No one at school is bald.”
“Doesn’t mean they got hair like this,” Jack responded smugly.
Lance shook his head. “How in the world did you get in here?”
Jack shrugged. “Hell, you recruited me.”
Lance closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. “Maybe it was the worst mistake of my life.”
“No,” Remington reminded him. “Your ex-wife holds that title. Anyway, we do think we’ll need to send you down there. We have operatives in Miami now, both looking for Frank and trying to understand what is happening. Focus on your classes, but we want you to know that battle is most likely coming.”
Jack waved away the notion with his hand. “Battle, schmattle. We killed Dracula, so a few ghosts aren’t going to matter.”
Finally, Marissa sat up and looked at the FBI agents. “He doesn’t understand anything, does he?”
Chapter Four
“What happened last night, Frank?” Sally asked. “Tie one on a bit too tight?”
“Aye.” Frank picked his beer up from the bar then walked to his bowling lane. “Something like that.”
“The team is pissed,” Sally responded. “I didn’t really give a fuck, because I don’t think you bring that much to the table. But they aren’t happy.”
Frank sat down and took a sip of his beer. “Fuck ‘em.”
Sally looked at him. “What the hell happened to your neck?”
Frank reached up and touched the bruised area gently. “Rough night.”
Sally shook her head and picked up her bowling ball.
Frank watched her walk forward and pitch the ball down the lane. She knocked down nine pins, setting herself up for a spare.
“Looks like I bring more to the team than you do,” Frank commented gruffly before taking a sip of his beer.
Sally was a fairy. Indeed, Frank’s whole bowling team was made up of Mythers. Sally had green eyes, red hair, and was far prettier than anyone else that ever showed up at this place. Humans saw her as drop-dead gorgeous. Frank saw her as a ruthless bitch, but he enjoyed her company.
“The only thing you bring to the team that I can’t is a pair of nuts,” she told him as she went to grab her ball again. “Albeit a small pair.”
Frank chuckled, sipping his beer slowly. It hurt to swallow. Getting strangled on the beach by a ghost wasn’t something to take lightly. Frank actually could have died last night, and he’d only faced that a few times in his multi-century life.
Sally nailed the spare then turned back around. “Weird finding so many Mythers down here who like bowling.”
Frank nodded, not really paying attention to what the fairy was saying. His thoughts were on last night. He still hadn’t contacted Claire. He'd decided to take the day to think.
“I saw something else weird,” Sally told him as she reached the chairs.
Frank sipped his beer, staring into nothing. “What’s that?”
“Came by your place last night and saw you in an orgy with a bunch of werewolves. Not much of an orgy, though. Maybe more of a gang bang. I thought it was a weird sight, for sure.”
Frank nodded again. “Yeah, that does sound weird.”
“You think I can borrow fifty grand?” Sally asked, sitting down opposite the leprechaun.
Frank waved a hand distractedly. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”
Sally leaned back in her chair and stared at Frank. He was looking past her, his eyes glazed over as if he wasn’t seeing anything.
Sally scowled. “Think you can make it a hundred grand?”
“Don’t see why not,” Frank replied.
Sally stood up, walked over to Frank, and smacked him across the face. His head whipped to the left, and his beer sloshed over the rim of the glass.
“What the hell?”
he exclaimed, quickly steadying the beer before he lost more. “What the hell was that for?”
He stared at Sally, rage in his eyes at the sting that accompanied the red mark forming on his skin.
“Frank, you just told me that you were gangbanged by a pack of werewolves, and then offered to give me a hundred thousand dollars. I can believe the gangbang part. You seem like that type, but the money? You still owe Joey five bucks at the bar.” She backed up and sat down as Frank’s anger faded. “What the hell is going on?”
Frank took in a deep breath then let it out. No one down here knew he worked with the FBI. They’d kick him off the team without any doubt. This crew didn’t want anything to do with the FBI or the schools aimed at eliminating Mythers.
He took a sip of his beer then looked at Sally. “Ye seen anything weird happening lately?”
Sally’s piercing green eyes stared right back at him “Weird as in what?” she asked.
“You seen any… Well, have ye ever seen any ghosts? Poltergeists? Things like that?”
The fairy crossed her arms. “Here? Or on our side of the Veil?”
Frank shrugged. “Either. I never saw anything like it beyond the Veil, although you hear stories.”
“Yeah, I saw ‘em on the other side.” Sally stood up and walked over to the bowling balls. “You want me to bowl for you?”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Hold on. Ye saw ghosts back home?”
“Yeah, of course,” she answered, placing her hand on her pink bowling ball.
Frank stood up and took a sip of his beer. “How? I never saw anything like it. Not even once.”
“Fairies run with different crowds than leprechauns, I guess. I don’t fucking know.” She pointed at the bowling lane. “You want me to do this, or are you going to quit your yapping?”
“I got it, little lady. Don’t get ye panties all in a wad.” Frank put his beer on his chair and walked up to the balls. He picked up a green one slightly darker than his own complexion, then walked around Sally.
He eyed the pins at the end, stepped forward, and launched the ball.
Nine out of ten pins.
“Damn it,” Frank grumbled before turning around.
“Something is seriously bothering you,” Sally told him with a smirk. “Why don’t you tell me what it is? A ghost gave you that mark?”
Frank nodded, gritting his teeth. It was one thing to get his ass beaten. It was another altogether for that ass-kicking to start affecting his bowling game.
“That’s not good.” Sally placed her hand in front of his as he reached for his ball. “Seriously.”
“Just let me get my ball,” Frank grumbled, pissed off about not getting a strike.
Sally shrugged and stepped out of the way.
Frank grabbed the green ball again and turned to the lane.
That’s not good. Sally’s words rang through Frank’s head. “Forget about it.” How was he supposed to do that?
He stepped forward and threw the ball. Gutter.
“Fucking damn it.” He turned around, gritting his teeth and glared at Sally. “Why isn’t it good?”
She was chuckling, watching the machine restock the pins. “Well, it’s sort of the nature of ghosts and poltergeists. They haunt things, Frank. If you pissed one off bad enough for it to almost kill you.” She met his eyes and shrugged. “You see what I’m getting at?”
“Not really.” Frank stalked back over to his beer. He picked it up from the chair and drained the remainder of it before speaking. He stifled a belch with his right hand and then turned around. “You’re saying this thing could be haunting me?”
Sally nodded. “It’s possible. Why were you fucking around with a ghost anyway?”
Frank only shook his head, not wanting to describe the pissing contest on the beach. “You think there are ghosts over here on Earth? Or you think it was pulled from across the Veil?”
“Well, Frank,” Sally told him as she grabbed her pink ball. “In between bowling, trying to figure out a way to get home, as well as figuring out this entirely new world, I’ve actually been boning up on ghosts here on Earth. One of my pastimes.”
Sally didn’t even look at Frank. She threw her ball and hit a hard strike. She turned back around. “And now my game’s getting better than yours, we might not need you on the team, either. It’s not looking like a great week for you, Frank.”
Frank picked up the phone on his nightstand. One of the reasons he hadn’t called Claire yet was he knew once he dialed that damned university’s number, he would be on the grid with the FBI again. Sure, he could leave the hotel and go somewhere else, but he’d heard rumors about what they were capable of.
If Frank called… Remington and Lance will be so far up my ass, they’ll tickle me Adam’s apple.
He knew it didn’t matter, though. What happened to him was serious. If he doubted it, he only needed to rub his hand across his bruised neck.
He dialed the number that Claire had made him memorize before leaving.
I won’t be calling ye, he’d told her then. I want a vacation from ye, lass.
But he’d memorized it anyway, and thank Zeus for that.
“The University of Paranormal Studies. How may I direct your call?” a female voice asked.
Frank sat down on the bed, his bare feet dangling just above the floor. “Claire Hinterland.”
There was a brief pause, and then the woman spoke in a crisper tone. “I’m sorry, sir. That’s a student's name. We don’t allow contact with students through university lines.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Look, lass. I don’t have time for this. Put me on with Dean Kristin Pritcham then, if ye won’t give me Claire. Tell her it’s Frank the leprechaun. Just make it snappy.”
The reply was quick. “One second.”
That’s odd, Frank thought. He’d figured he’d get some push back, and it’d be a long time before he actually got Claire. Sounds like they’re expecting me.
Frank sat on the bed, staring at the clock. It took about five minutes, but then Claire’s voice soared through the phone.
“One, you’re a son-of-a-bitch for not calling me sooner. Two, I miss you. Three, we need to talk.”
Frank smiled. “Why would I call ye when this is how ye answer?”
Claire’s voice went up in pitch. “You should have called sooner, and I probably would have been more pleasant. Instead, you go four freaking months without so much as a word and expect me to give you a warm welcome? Hell, no.”
Frank’s smile widened, and he knew she could hear it over the phone. “My apologies, lass. Frank’s been enjoying some rays and water. I think ye are right on the last point. It’s time we talk.”
“Something is happening down there, isn’t it?” Claire asked, her voice dropping lower.
Frank looked down at his green toes, wondering if waiting had been a stupid idea. “Aye, it is. At least I think it is. Remington and Lance have heard something too?”
“Yeah,” Claire told him. “They’re saying that there are ghosts down there, Frank. Is that what you’re calling about?”
Frank let out a sigh. “I think so. I’ve never seen a ghost before. I’ve heard rumors about them, but that’s it.”
“What’s happening?” Claire asked.
Frank shook his head, not really wanting to say. Getting your ass beat by something that doesn’t have a physical form. Well, it wouldn’t do much for Frank’s reputation.
“You there?” Claire asked.
Frank snapped back to the call. “Yes, lass. I’m here.”
“Well, spit it out,” Claire demanded. “What’s going on down there?”
“I got into an altercation with one.” Frank went silent.
Claire let out a muffled laugh. “Hold on. An altercation? Did you get beat up?”
“No, lass. Hell, no. Frank doesn’t get beat up by anything, let alone a ghost.”
Another laugh. “Did you win, then?” Claire asked.
Frank gri
tted his teeth and growled, “Of course.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Claire mockingly agreed. “How the hell did you get into a fight?”
“It’s not important. Ye ask too many unimportant questions,” Frank declared. “What are those FBI agents saying?”
The levity in Claire’s voice disappeared. “They’re saying it’s serious. People are dying. You see anything like that?”
Just me damn self almost dying, Frank thought. “No. The one I ran across wasn’t killing people. Just stealing food and beer. It’s a damn bum.”
“Yeah, because you’ve never stolen anything,” Claire responded. “Look, the FBI wants to talk to you. They want you to come back and sit down with all of us, let them know what you’ve seen. You’ll have to be a bit more forthcoming than you’re being with me, though.”
“Come back there?” Frank repeated, his voice rising. “I’m not going back up to that cold wilderness. I’m in heaven down here.”
“A heaven full of ghosts, apparently,” Claire remarked. “Seriously, they want to talk to you.”
Frank let out a groan and fell back on the bed, closing his eyes.
“Plus, who’s paying for it all? The FBI. You’ve gotta come back, Frank. At least long enough to tell us what you’ve seen.”
“This has to be illegal,” Frank growled into the phone.
Claire laughed. “Nope, don’t think it is. Also, you’re not a United States citizen, so our laws wouldn’t apply to you anyway. I’m going to talk to Remington and Lance. They’ll get a plane down there within a few hours, I’m sure. So go ahead and get packed.”
Frank brought a hand to his brow and rubbed it hard. “This is not how I wanted this conversation to go. I’m supposed to tell ye something is going on. Ye’re are supposed to do something about it. I am supposed to continue enjoying me much-deserved vacation.”
“You ever heard of the Rolling Stones? “Claire asked.
“I think Mick Jagger might actually be a ghost,” Frank replied with his eyes still closed. “He’s certainly a spirit of some kind. Hell, him and the other one. Keith Richards.”
Paranormal University- Second Semester Page 4