Okay, he’s cool enough, Claire thought, and he seems to be making Marissa feel better, which is the most important part right now.
She made a mental note to check in with Jack later on. She’d been so focused on herself and Marissa that she’d almost forgotten the third person in their team.
“Okay,” Dr. Tharos continued, stepping back and leaning against the desk. “From what I understand, time is short here. You could be whisked away at any moment to go save humanity, and for that, you have my thanks. I’ve personally seen ghosts, and I’ve got no desire whatsoever to fight these things. Now, I have my own agenda to teach you what you should know, but first I’d like to hear what you three are interested in. What do you think will help you the most?”
“What types of ghosts are there?” Claire asked. She slipped her yellow notepad out from her bag. She wanted to get the basics out of the way first, and she also wanted to get knowledge of some of the scarier things in front of them. Knowing exactly what they could come up against was a big portion of combating their fear.
“Good question,” the professor replied. “It’s a difficult one to answer, mainly because it depends on who you ask. Given that I’m one of the foremost experts on the paranormal, we’ll go with my answer. We originally believed that there is only one type of ghost. Human souls who did not cross over to whatever plane exists beyond our own. However, I’ve readjusted my belief here since the Mythological Invasion, because I believe that the Veil has actually been tearing for a long, long time. Small tears, and I think ghosts crossed over during them. Perhaps other things as well. However, that’s not what I think you’re getting at, correct? You’re actually asking how they can manifest themselves, right?”
Claire nodded. “Yes, professor.”
“Okay, let’s go run-of-the-mill types first.” Tharos raised one finger into the air. “Poltergeists. These bastards move stuff around. You’ve probably seen the movie, and if not, I recommend that you do, if for nothing else than to hear the medium’s hilarious voice. There’s a real possibility you won’t be able to see them, but you’re going to feel them if they throw something at you. Two.” He raised another finger. “Ectoplasm, or ectomist. It’s exactly like it sounds. You’ll see a mist in front of you, and it might swirl or simply hover. These types are mainly observers, although in certain cases, they can form into full apparitions, and those are nasty creatures. Three.” A third finger went up. “I call this one Casper, although the technical term is ‘interactive.’ You can see these creatures. They can talk. They can disappear and reappear. They are the most fully actualized out of ghosts, and they aren’t the most dangerous. Think Casper, these ghosts exist to bring comfort to the people they left behind.”
Dr. Tharos paused to let the three students finish writing their notes.
Claire looked over to see that even Jack was studiously following along.
She looked up when she was finished. “Just three?”
“Those are the three main types that you’re going to encounter, but no. There are many others, including possessors, ghosts who are able to take over a living person or object.”
“Wouldn’t that be a demon?” Jack asked.
“Demons are also known to possess humans,” the professor replied. “However, from what I understand the FBI don’t think demons are in play right now. You’ve got shadow people. Do any of you know what they are?”
Marissa nodded. “You see them out of the corner of your eye. But when you turn to look at them, they aren’t there.”
“Exactly.” Dr. Tharos reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. He handed it to Marissa. “Here’s a gold star.”
Jack laughed. “Just like a kid.”
Tharos shrugged. “I don’t see you with any gold stars.”
Claire smiled. I do like this guy. He’s making stuff that should be scary kind of fun.
“So,” Dr. Tharos continued. “Shadow people. Orb ghosts, which are exactly what they sound like. They’re more observer types as well. Crowds attract ghosts, there are records of some that only show up where big groups are. It’s a recipe for disaster if they’re malevolent. I could go on, but then I’d just be getting derivative.”
Claire wrote the last one down and underlined it.
The professor gave her a moment to finish. “What’s your next question?”
Claire thought of what she and Marissa had talked about last night. She didn’t want to ask the question they both had, because she wanted Marissa to come out of her shell by choice. She glanced at her friend.
Marissa shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Fine, Claire thought. I’ll do it for you. “These ghosts. Are they real in the sense that they’re actual dead people, or are they being pulled across from the Veil?”
Dr. Tharos looked at the floor for a moment, then sat on the desk and folded his arms. “I’ve been pondering that myself since the FBI guys debriefed me.”
He looked to Professor Byron at the back of the room. “You have any thoughts on it?”
Claire looked over her shoulder and saw Byron shaking his head. “I don’t think the FBI does either.”
“Nope,” Tharos agreed. “They’re clueless. I think you three will probably figure it out.” He nodded to the students. “Once you get down there and involved. My theory, like I mentioned earlier, is that ghosts have been crossing the Veil since mankind first conceptualized life after death. Now, non-believers will tell me I’m crazy, and that’s fine, but I’ve seen ghosts, so I don’t care. If the theories are right, then ghosts are coming from behind the Veil because people have believed in them for millennia.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed, although she didn’t have a different answer. Apparently, neither did Jack or Marissa.
Dr. Tharos shrugged. “Yeah, that’s where I’m at with it. I think the amount of activity is going to show us whether it’s just random crossings, or whether there is a human group summoning them. The more activity, the more likely they’ve got some extra help. There simply aren’t that many ghosts running around, despite what the movies make you think.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for cash. “The studios are chasing the dollars. Now, anyone know how these things are showing up?”
Claire tapped her pencil’s eraser absent-mindedly on the notepad. “The last group had an orb of some kind. They could program it to search for things on the other side of the Veil. The FBI is being pretty hush-hush about how it actually works.”
“Maybe that could work here, but I don’t think so.” He folded his hands on his lap. “Any other ideas?”
Marissa nodded. “Dark covens,” she whispered. “That’s typically who summons the Mythers if they’re not already here. The witches use spells.”
“She always know every answer?” Dr. Tharos asked with a smile.
“Typically,” Claire answered.
“I coach her before and after class,” Jack chimed in, although he didn’t look up from scribbling down notes. “I don’t like her to look stupid in front of people.”
Claire gave him a hard elbow and smiled at his yelp. “Again, my apologies for his behavior. He’s like an untrained puppy.”
“Eh, most guys are at that age,” Dr. Tharos dismissed. He hopped off the desk. “Marissa is right, though. ‘Witches,’ or coven members, are the ones who typically summon these large groups of Mythers.” He glanced down at the black watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a pretty intense schedule given the short time frame, but class is over for today. We’ll pick up with witchcraft next time.”
Claire glanced over at Marissa again. She looked like she might vomit.
Chapter Six
“After this, we get to go get a beer. Right?” Frank asked, staring at Remington skeptically. “This is the fifth house we’ve been to, and I haven’t seen a thing yet. I’m tired and I’m thirsty.”
“And bitchy,” Lance complained, stepping into the house.
“We’ll get you a beer once yo
u help us, Frankie,” Remington remarked with a smile at the leprechaun. “Until then, we hunt for these ghosts. It was you who told us you saw a ghost walking around in pants and a shirt.”
Frank scowled. “Aye, I did. Can’t help it if ye smell too bad for it to show up again.” He pointed inside the door. “Go on and let me see if I can help. Must be tough, being near-blind and trying to be an officer of the law.”
“Never tough when we have you, Frank,” Lance called from the living room. “You make all my days brighter.”
Remington chuckled and walked through the door. Frank followed. They’d been at this all day, going from house to house in Miami, hoping that Frank saw something. The two suits couldn’t see anything, so they were using Frank as a hound dog basically, hoping he could do their job.
Frank wished for his stool at Joey's tiki bar. If it wasn’t for Claire, he would have been long done with this. So far, he hadn’t seen squat, and he was tired. His feet were hurting. Months on the beach, and he’d lost his stamina.
Which is fine, he thought. No reason that I should be running around with the gusto of a leprechaun only two hundred years old.
Frank went into the living room where the FBI agents stood. “I haven’t even asked why all of these places are still full of furniture and stuff. Don’t you humans move this out when someone dies?”
“No, Frank,” Remington responded with a very concerned look on his face as if it should be obvious. “When someone dies, their place remains theirs forever. All of this stuff here—” He motioned his arm to the couches and television “Will remain here until it all turns to dust.”
Frank cocked his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. What in the actual hell is wrong with these humans?
Lance cracked a smile and then chuckled. “Gotcha, Frankie.”
“Oh, the hell with it!” Frank turned around and started marching toward the front door. “I’m going to find a beer. You two do what you want.”
He made it about three feet before something caught the corner of his eye. Movement.
His head whipped to the left, he could see through the walkway into the dining room, where a doll was sitting on the table.
Frank slowly turned so that he faced it.
“What is it, Frank?” Remington asked, moving to stand next to him.
Frank didn’t say anything, only narrowed his eyes. I saw something. Was it ye?
The doll sat in a weird spot. Its legs were splayed out in front of it, and it was leaning against a fake flower pot in the middle of the table.
Staring right at me, as if ye are watching, Frank thought. “No, ye idiots. I just figured if ye fools left everything alone in here, and the power is still apparently running, then maybe there’s beer in the fridge.”
Frank ignored the agents and looked away from the doll. He walked into the dining room to check for alcohol.
“Frank, quit dicking around,” Lance called. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Go do it then,” Frank replied as he took a left, veering close to the table.
He moved as quick as a cat grabbing a mouse. His hand reached out and yanked at the doll’s hair, ripping it from the table.
“Ayyee!” A gruff scream exploded from the doll’s mouth.
Frank tried to bring the thing toward his face so he could look at it, but he didn’t expect what came next.
The doll reached out, its hands suddenly very lifelike, and grabbed hold of Frank’s wrist. It pulled itself up and clamped down on Frank’s flesh with its teeth.
Pain radiated up Frank’s arm, and he dropped the creature to the ground without even thinking about it.
“Damn it!” he shrieked as blood dripped down his skin.
“What the hell?” Remington rushed into the dining room, his gun already drawn.
The doll darted across the room; its little legs in action were the funniest thing Frank had ever seen.
The eighteen-inch-tall plastic doll scurried through the house, reaching the kitchen before Frank had even moved. He just stared at it with wide eyes as Remington and Lance came to stand beside him.
The doll jumped up to one of the drawers and wrapped its tiny hands around the metal handle as if it were a gymnast. It pushed its legs against the bottom cabinet and pulled the drawer open.
“I’ll be damned,” Lance muttered without moving.
The doll did a backward somersault like a gymnast and landed on top of the open drawer. Then it reached in and grabbed a knife almost half as long as its body.
“No call for that,” Frank objected.
The doll turned around and smiled. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.” The thing sounded like a little girl, but the words were positively savage.
“Should I shoot it?” Lance asked. His gun was raised to eye level.
Remington’s was as well. “Only if it’s necessary. Might kill the damned thing, and that’s not what we want. Frank, go in there and capture it.” He nodded toward the kitchen.
“Ye’re out of your damn minds.” Frank shook his head and put his hands up, palms out. Blood fell to the carpet. “Ye see what the little termite already did to me? Ye’ve got the guns. Ye can get ye arses in there and do something about it.”
“You scared of a little doll, Frank?” Remington asked. “We’ve got your six. Get in there and subdue it. We’re not fast enough, and ye know it.”
Son-of-a-bitch, Frank thought. The damn humans are right.
“Come on in, shorty,” the doll called from the drawer. “I’ll give you more than a little bite to bitch about.”
Frank sighed. He didn’t turn to the agents as he spoke. “Beer. Lots of it.”
“Whatever you want. Just get that little hellion,” Remington promised, keeping his gun aimed right at the doll’s head.
Frank disappeared in a flash of light and immediately reappeared next to the drawer.
The doll was fast—almost unbelievably so. Its small features had turned to surprise, but its body was already moving to face Frank. The knife came down, business end first.
Frank leapt into the air, barely missing being slashed by the blade. He kicked the doll, hitting it square in the face and sending it sprawling back against the kitchen sink.
Frank landed lightly on the drawer and then hopped to the sink, where the doll was climbing to its feet.
Remington and Lance ran into the kitchen to get a better vantage point.
The doll regained its footing and slashed at Frank again.
“Ye two shoot me, and I swear to Zeus I’ll haunt ye both from the afterlife!” Frank shouted, dodging backward to avoid the knife attack.
“Don’t worry about them, shorty,” the evil doll leered. “It’s me you’ll be haunting because I’m about to cut your nut sack off.”
This bitch makes me sound positively nice, Frank thought. He feinted left and then jumped right, trying to come down on top of the small creature before it cut him.
Too late, the doll slashed through his shirt but missed his flesh.
Frank did a quick spin and was behind the doll. He didn’t bother kicking the doll again, but pounced on top of it and pinned it into the sink.
The doll tried to scramble out from beneath him, the knife clanking against the metal.
Frank grabbed the doll's wrist and slammed the knife against the sink.
“A little help, ye two do-nothings!” Frank screamed across the kitchen.
He heard footfalls as the two agents ran toward him. Remington grabbed the doll's legs, and Lance took the left arm.
Frank finally bashed the doll's hand hard enough into the metal sink to make it drop the knife.
“Gotcha,” Frank growled.
The doll struggled to free itself. “I’ll murder you and your whole family. I’ll carve you all up like thanksgiving turkeys. I’ll—”
Remington grabbed the doll’s head, yanked it up, and slammed it down hard onto the metal.
The possessed doll fell silent, its legs no longer moving.
>
“That damned thing talks more than you, Frank,” Lance murmured from behind the leprechaun. He still held the now non-fighting legs.
Frank stood up, then practically fell back into the sink. He sat down on the side, breathing heavily. “I need a beer.”
Remington shook his head. “From the looks of things, you need a treadmill. Killed a hundred vampires, but you were almost done in by a doll.”
Frank looked at Remington for a second, then simply lifted his hand up and shot him the bird.
Frank set the case of beer down on the table. “This is rubbish. Swill. I shouldn’t be made to drink such things.”
“There’s no time, Frank,” Remington reminded him. “You wanted beer, this is what you get. We aren’t stopping at any damn craft breweries.”
Even after a few hours of rest, Frank was sore and more irritable than usual. Primarily because he was pissed at himself for being slow. He shouldn’t be this out of shape, but he’d be damned if he’d let these two humans know it.
The doll had come back to life about twenty minutes after Remington knocked it unconscious, giving them another brief but intense struggle.
Now the thing was out cold again and secured to a chair with duct tape, its arms and legs taped directly to the chair since they barely stretched far enough to allow the agents to secure it.
Frank had insisted they go get some beer, so he and Remington had rushed out to a gas station, picked up a case of beer, then rushed back to the house.
Lance remained with his gun trained on the doll.
Lance waved the pistol at the unconscious hellion. “This is less like a ghost and more like the Annie doll the other Academy had.”
“Yeah, Frank,” Remington agreed. “It’s nothing like the shirt and pants you described.” He reached into the case of beer and pulled one out. He popped it open, took a long sip, and then set it down. He unholstered his pistol but kept it pointing downward.
Frank plucked a can from the case. “What do I look like to ye? A witch? I don’t know what the hell that thing is. All I know is I’m the one that subdued it while ye two watched.” He walked away from the case of beer and sat down on the living room couch. He stared at the blonde-haired doll a minute before speaking. “So, what do we do now?”
Paranormal University- Second Semester Page 6