Nanowrimo 2016, Prologue, part 7

[kimuro]

An Dannsa Sìth
Ro-ràdh : roinn a seachd : Tàbharnadh (Haunted)

Jace did recognize where they were, once he actually looked. He didn't expect that, but the Sports Arena, where University teams played home games, was passing beneath them. Buck had been the star there, on the fields.

Across the River Bow from the Sports Arena lay the University medical campus. The teaching hospital perched on a bluff above the waters, looming over the Arena below. Jace spotted the giant "H" of a helipad on a flat roof near the hospital, but the Senator's aircraft kept a steady heading and passed it by.

The low area around the Sports Arena was called North Bank, the two campuses, medical and the main academic campus, were on the South Bank. Once past the research clinics and buildings of the medical campus, they were over the academic. Jace craned his neck until he spotted the open space of the Quad, heart of University. tree-lined down the long sides, one end dominated by the distinctive clock-tower of the admin building; casting a long shadow down to the fountains opposite, the entrance of the Quad.

The Quad was bustling, a broken stream of humanity, mostly confined to the paved paths, heading to and from classes or appointments. Come warmer weather, the greenspace would be occupied as well; students on blankets, sunning, studying, sleeping; others with frisbees or balls, playing pick-up games with friends or passers-by. Some out running, dodging the more sedate, for the pure joy of movement.

Not now, though. February was too cold. Old woman winter beating the ground with her stick, bringing freezing rain, killing frosts and snow. Jace had missed the feast of St. Brigid this year. He'd missed it last year as well, but that had been his choice then. Busy with some assignment or other which importance kept him from attending either vigil, waiting outside from before dawn until the groundhog awoke to herald the coming of spring, or service in the Cathedral. He couldn't even remember what had been so important now. Only that he'd had to hear about it later in the day, instead of seeing it for himself.

The Town of Bowbridge was passing beneath them and still the helicopter maintained its altitude, heading west, following the course of the River Bow.

Conservation land lay there, and Claire College, a satellite campus of Bowbridge University. Officially, anyway. In practice, Claire College was different. Spook Central, student of University called it. With good reason.

It was supposed to be part of Bowbridge University but the association went only one way. Claire College students visited the main campus freely, attending classes in other schools, but the Claire College campus was only open to outsiders three times a year; the vigil of St. Brigid, May Day and one day the first week of August for some reason, for the Games of Lugh. Those three times, everyone was welcome. Any other day of the year, nobody got through the gate without a valid Claire College ID or a very good reason to be there.

The River Bow curled around Claire College on two sides, a sheer drop and undercurrents protecting those flanks. The Forest lay to the far side; conservation land, belonging to the government, posted no trespassing, no hunting, no camping, no entry. A tall stone wall stretched across the fourth, complete with gated entry and a porter to check people in and out.

There were some Claire College courses available to the general population of students at Bowbridge. They were taught on the main campus, in large lecture halls. Woo-woo stuff for the main part. Junk science, his dad called it. Things like Principles of Parapsychology; Astrology and Astronomy: the intersection of Art and Science; History of Witchcraft; Spirits, Ghosts and Haunts; General Parascience.

In his first year at University, Jace considered signing up for the last one but his dad said he was paying for Jace to get an education in facts, not make-believe. Even though his dad wasn't paying for anything, Jace decided he had a point and dropped the course before the first class.

Rumour had it that there was a top-secret hidden government research facility hidden somewhere in the Forest. A place where government scientists conducted forbidden experiments, creating monsters, merging human DNA with alien, flown in from Area 51. But even the most fervent conspiracist couldn't explain why they would want to do that. Weapons of war? Frankenstein complex? Because they could? It made no sense.

Pure fantasy, as far as Jace was concerned. For one thing, if it was so top-secret and secure, why would everyone at University know about it?

He couldn't deny that there was a large military presence around Claire College, however. But that was easily explained. The FBI had a training programme on the campus, close to the Forest. Like Quantico but on a smaller scale and integrated with the Claire College curricula. They offered training to first responders - law enforcement, fire-fighters, emergency medical technicians, and to members of all the branches of the military, in addition to FBI agents, of course.

Those courses were all held on the Claire College Campus.

Jace wasn't especially suprised to find the helicopter descending over the winged building of Ægeria Hall. He was surprised when it continued on past and into the Forest. And when they landed on a small helipad deep in conservation land, located beside a featureless block building, he was completely boggled.

There really was a top-secret facility in the middle of the Forest. Imagine that. He felt an upsurge of curiousity, an intense desire to see just what was inside.

The helicopter was met by two men in camoflage fatigues who ducked under the breeze generated by the rotating blades to escort them out of range.

"Senator Buckminster, the Director is waiting for you at Dobransky House. You and Mr. Walker. We'll drive you there."

"Why did you direct my pilot to land here?" the Senator countered. "This doesn't involve the FBI, I'm here to see Doctors Campbell and Collins."

The soldier was unflappable. "This way Senator, Mr. Walker."

To Jace's disappointment, they were taken to a small electric jeep and driven away from the mysterious building in the Forest.

Nothing larger than the mini-car could have managed the paved path on which they drove and Jace wondered what would happen if they met someone coming the other way. Then they drove by a slight widening in the road, a lay-by, he realized. That was how. After a few minutes, they came to check point, a couple of soldiers checked their bonafides and opened the gate for them. The chain-link fence stretched out far in both directions, whether it bent to enclose the campus or the facility Jace couldn't say.

The road became a dirt path after that and a short time later the landscape opened up and they turned onto a wider road.

Now they were driving through what appeared to be park land rising up on their left, wood-chips strewn to define paths leading to the heights. They came across a group of joggers, men and women mixed, the driver passed them by, in clumps of people, slow and struggling first, then increasing fitness until the ones in front were laughing and fooling around, barely noticing the course.

A large building appeared out of the trees on the right, resolved into a gym.

The driver pulled up beside a large Victorian house, with a wide porch wrapped around it; too large to be a home, too humble to be a mansion. He remained at the wheel while the other soldier jumped out to open the back door of the vehicle, inviting the Senator and Jace to exit the vehicle and enter the building, his manner more of command than invitation.

They entered into a lobby, a large room irregularly shaped. There was a half-moon front desk to the right side of the entrance, against a wall slanting away toward the back. A light-skinned black woman stood behind it, elbows on the counter, leaning over an open book before her. Her head was wrapped in a brightly patterned turban, though she was otherwise conventionally dressed in jeans and a shirt. She glanced up at them as they entered the lobby, studying them, as though waiting to see if they would be worth her while, finally rising slowly rising to greet them; a tall graceful figure.

She addressed their military escort. "Corporal Grioffon, the Director will see the Senator in the Parlour." She inclined her head toward the set of double doors open on the wall opposite. "Major John requests that you escort him in."

Her gaze shifted, granting Jace her full attention. Her eyes were unexpected light in colour. A light blue, not brown, almost silver. Regal in posture, strikingly good-looking, smooth skin like café au lait. There was a sense of power contained, of command.

"Mr. Walker is to wait in the library." An economical movement with two fingers of one hand indicated an arched opening on the far side of the desk.

Jace glanced at the Senator, oddly unwilling to lose the tenuous contact with his old life, not wanting to be separated from the person responsible for his presence there. Senator Buckminster was already striding away, crossing the room, heading for the open doors on the other side. The dark-skinned Corporal met Jace's eyes. He gave Jace an encouraging nod then looked away, in response to the sound of his name. He quickly followed the Senator into the other room, into the Parlour, shutting the doors behind him. Shutting Jace out.

During that moment of distraction, the woman, the receptionist, had come out from behind the desk, though Jace didn't see how. She stood next to the open archway, her head cocked with contained impatience. Bracing himself, Jace stepped through the arch.

It wasn't an library as most people would think of one, more of a study. An odd room. Oddly shaped. An irregular hexagon. Three outside walls, looking onto the wrap-around porch and beyond. The wall shared with the lobby slanted inward, making the room narrow toward the back short wall on his right, toward the back of the house.

Jace walked further into the room, turning around to take it all in.

Built in bookcases lined the walls, floor to ceiling, filled with books, broken by ceiling tall windows on the outside walls, the arch through which Jace had entered, a door in the short inner wall and a fireplace on the lobby side. There was a fire in the hearth, crackling with warming welcome, flanked by two upholstered club chairs.

Feeling cold, Jace contemplated those chairs, briefly considering sitting in one and letting himself get warm again. It seemed to him suddenly that he'd been feeling cold ever since New Year's Eve; hospital johnnies not exactly the most covering of garments and then being swept out onto a helicopter ride almost as soon as he had real clothes on.

He couldn't do it though. They were just so ... so British murder mystery. One of those ones where someone pops off in his men's club and nobody notices.

"Waiter, take away Lord Whatisname, he's been dead two days," Jace muttered, botching a British accent badly. He snorted, amused with his whimsy and turned toward the books nearer the door.

Fairy tales and folklore. The word encyclopedia caught his eye, but it was a bust. An Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katherine Briggs. He moved on to the next section of shelving.

Not much better; ghosts stories. Real life accounts of haunted houses. Memoirs of ghost-huntings. Manuals for ghost-hunters. Jace started when he heard a noise behind him, he spun around. Nothing. The fire crackled contentely to itself. Probably something settling in the hearth.

Facing forward again, he found that he'd inadvertently knocked against the shelf, pulled one of the books out of true. Haunted Sites; a Survey of Locations Identified in Accounts of Unusual Occurrences in the Greater Bow Valley Region by Professor E. N. Winton-Smythe. Jace returned it to true and moved on.

Witchcraft. Grammaryes and spellbooks, biographies and histories, pro and con. The Malleus Maleficarum was there. The Necronomicron was not. Not that he was really interested. It was all nonsense; stuff for fantasy and make-believe, not real.

Finally he came to the section on parascience; ESP, clairvoyance, precognition, astral projection. Junk science, maybe, but who really knew what the human mind was capable of? Jace selected the textbook for the General Parascience course, by one S. Campbell, PhD. Jace opened the book at random.

He was standing beside one of the windows, looking out over the porch. Deeply set because of the width of the surrounding sets of shelves, it had a wide sill, the top of the book shelf below it, cushioned to make a seat. Jace sat, barely noticing as he did so.

The sound of footsteps approaching distracted him. He looked up, expecting to see ... he wasn't sure. Their soldier escort, perhaps? Not the receptionist, the steps had been too heavy, too ... too masculine.

There was nobody there.

Floorboards settling. It was an old house. Or the furnace kicking on.

Shrugging, Jace returned to the book in his hands, eyes automatically scanning to locate where he'd stopped reading. He couldn't find it.

Thinking he might have accidentally turned the page when he looked up, he flipped to the previous page. Nothing looked familiar. Frowning, finger holding the spot, he closed the book and looked at the cover again.

Haunted Sites; a Survey of Locations Identified in Accounts of Unusual Occurrences in the Greater Bow Valley Region by Professor E. N. Winton-Smythe.

An uneasy chuckle broke from him. He really must be nervous if he picked up something like this without thinking. He got up and put it back in its spot on the second section of books, the returned to find the General Parascience book again. Right where it was supposed to be. Smiling, mocking himself, he shook his head over it, moved to sit down again on the window seat. There was something on the seat. A book. The book.

Haunted Sites by Professor E. N. Winton-Smythe. Turning his head, he could see the empty spot on the shelf.

Anger began to burn. Suspicion. Holding a book in each hand, he stalked out into the lobby.

"Were you in there just now?" he asked.

She started, gazing at him in surprise that quickly turned into disapproval when she caught sight of the books he carried. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walker. You are welcome to read anything in the library but we ask that the books not leave the room."

"I said, were you just now in the library?" Jace repeated, speaking clearly, his volume rising slightly.

A frown appeared between her brows.

"No. Why would I?"

He eyed her suspiciously, looking for some sign of repressed amusement or glee. She stood, shoulders back, eyes narrowed. Challenging him, secure in her own place of power.

"Please return to the library to wait. I'm sure the Director will call for you shortly."

Giving way, Jace complied, still angry. Still unsettled. He stalked over to the section of shelving given to ghost tales, shoved the offending tome back into place and headed for nearest window seat, glaring at the bare cushion, daring any books to take possession before he reached it.

Naturally it remained empty. Snorting at himself and his fancies, Jace turned to sit ... and froze, transfixed by the sight that faced him.

A book floated, apparently in mid-air, behind him.

The book.

Haunted Sites; a Survey of Locations Identified in Accounts of Unusual Occurrences in the Greater Bow Valley Region by Professor E. N. Winton-Smythe

For a moment, no more than that, he was stunned, he didn't know what to think. His mind felt as fixed at the rest of him. Then he got it. He knew exactly what was going on.

"Funny. Very funny," he announced coldly. The book bobbled up and down, as if in agreement that it was funny. Jace put the book on parascience down on the window seat, reaching back blindly to do so, keeping his eyes fixed on the impossible book.

"I'm going to figure out how you're doing this, you know." It slipped side to side, denying the possibility. Mocking him.

Not taking his eyes off it, Jace stomped around the book, using his body to try to break the beam controlling its flight. He ran his hands above and below it, though he really didn't expect any strings.

No, he was thinking something a bit more hi-tech. Miniature drone was his thought.

With that in mind, he reached out and plucked the book out of the air. He opened it, looking for the motor, for the mechanism. He examined the covers, opened it so he could peer down the spine. To his disgust, he couldn't find it. He could not figure out how they were pulling the trick.

Something out of the corner of his eye caused him to look again at the window seat. It seemed almost inevitable that the other book was gone. Disappeared.

Jace shook the book, looking slowly around, turning his body as he glared impartially at every part of the empty room. "I suppose you expect me to read this?" he demanded.

No response. He sneered, huffed, shook his head and again addressed his unseen tormentor.

"Look, I don't know who you are ..."

A clunk drew his attention to the fireplace, or rather, to the mantel above. A carved wooden pipe had fallen off its stand, directly below a painting hanging on the wall. The old man in the painting, dressed in a black velvet smoking jacket, seated in a deep chair much like one of the two facing the fireplace, looked back, smiling whimsically down at him, holding the self-same pipe near his mouth, a curve of smoke rising from the bowl.

A nameplate below identified the subject as 'Edwin Norris Winton-Smythe, Professor Emeritus, Claire College' followed by a set of dates.

"Winton-Smythe?" Jace scoffed. "Really? I'm supposed to believe you're doing all this?"

The fallen pipe rose, the mouthpiece tapped firmly against the title.

"Oh, excuse me," Jace snarked, sarcasm dripping. "Professor Winton-Smythe, of course. Or, perhaps I should say the Very Emeritus Professor Winton-Smythe? Or even the Extremely Emeritus Professor Winton-Smythe."

The pipe, still hovering, described a graceful arabesque before returnint to its stand.

"Bull-pucky. I don't know how you're doing it and I don't care. You could be a ghost or some sort of holograph or even anti-gravity microchips and I couldn't care less because I don't care. Do you hear me. I don't care."

"I am having the ... forgive my profanity but the shittiest week of my life and it really doesn't look like it's going to get any better. Ever!"

"Six weeks ago, some guy I know wrecked his car. Drinking and driving, that always ends up so well. We went off the side of a mountain, rolled about half way down before we stopped. Miracle we didn't end up all the way down, God knows the car ultimately did, but not until after we were out. I ended up with a broken nose, that's probably where I got the fractured rib, too, but I won't swear to it."

"We hike back up the mountain, in a snow storm, and my idiot friend says he knows a short-cut to the lodge at top and like an idiot I follow him. To a neighbour's house where they're holding a New Year's Eve party which my friend crashes. Only apparently, he couldn't have because there's no neighbour there. Except I saw the house. I saw the party."

"Me? I get shoved outside where I lose my way going around to the back of the house. I get chased by a pack of dogs, threatened by some madman in fancy dress who's out in the ... did I mention the snow storm? ... hunting with a bow and arrow. He's about to skewer me like some modern day Robin Hood when a girl shows up and offers to give me a ride up to the lodge and the next thing I know I've been tossed out onto a busy highway and, oh yeah, it's six weeks later."

"I get to the hospital, broken nose, fractured ribs, sprained shoulder, bruised on every inch of my body and suddenly there's this asshole detective arresting me for the murder of my asshole friend who started the whole sorry chain of events by driving while under the influence and all because they can't find him either! So here I am, battered and bruised because of Buck's incompetence and under suspicion of murder because of police incompetence and you're playing silly buggers with ghost tricks. To hell with you and the horse you rode in on!"

"All I want to do is sit quietly and read the book I selected. Is that really too much to ask for?"

By the time he finished, he was yelling. At a picture. Jace closed his eyes, counted up to ten slowly and then back down again, trying to get himself back under control. When he opened his eyes again, he found he was not alone.

There were people at both the arched entrances to the foyer. The receptionist, the soldier and a young oriental man in the one closest to the front entrance; Senator Buckminster and a group composed of two men and two women in the back. One of the men was younger than the Senator by a decade or so, dark of hair and, despite the suit, exuding an air of action. The other was a couple of decades older, tall and lean, fit for his age, with rusty-grey hair and a beaked nose. The woman beside him was about the same age, short and plump and comfortable looking. The last woman was taller, almost as tall as the Senator, and old. Very old. Leaning heavily on a knobby carved wooden cane.

And Jace's hands were empty. The book was gone. He wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. He wanted to die, but nobody ever died of embarassment; life just wasn't that kind.

The receptionist came further into the room, she faced the fireplace. "Professor? Is everything all right?"

. . .

The old lady snorted, drawing Jace's attention. "That I should see such a day," she said theatrically, her accent heavy and Russian. "You apologizing. You never apologize to me!" She also was addressing the space in front of the fireplace. Jace felt his anger begin to boil again.

. . .

The receptionist cleared her throat. "Mr. Walker? The Professor asked me to ... to convey his apologies for his ... ummm ... gauche and thoughtless behaviour."

. . .

"And that would have been a mistake," the other woman standing with the Senator said. She shifted her stance to face Jace. "Although I do regret the necessity. We need to know if you can cope with some of the unique ... aspects of Claire College. If you will join us in the Parlour, we can explain."

"You don't have to explain a thing," Jace said tightly. "I already figured it out. It's all a big laugh to you people, isn't it? Set up a fake haunting, scare visitors so they'll think it's all real? Well, I'm not buying it."

The distinguished looking older man answered, speaking calmly.

"No. No tricks, but I don't blame you for thinking so. Allow me to introduce myself and my companions to you."

"I am Dr. Stuart Campbell, head of Claire College School of Science. My colleague," he half-turned toward the younger of the two women, "Dr. Margaret Collins, head of the School of Arts. Dr. John Majors," a tip of his head indicated the dark-haired man in prime condition, "FBI consultant." He paused, then added, "Major Doctor John Majors."

Then, incling his head with a flourish of his hand, he directed Jace's attention to the old lady, saying, "And may I present our Director, Madame Ludmilla Dobransky, founder and patroness of Claire College."

The old lady responded to the gallantry with a regal nod.

Craning his head to look toward the three on the opposite side of the fireplace, Dr. Campbell said, "And over there we have Alys Liddleton, medical student doing post-grad work in Comparative Anatomy and Forensics." The receptionish raised her hand shoulder high and let it drop again, acknowledging the introduction more than in greeting.

"Danny Q, computer science and technical wizard ..." The oriental man looked uncertainly from Dr. Campbell to Alys Liddleton, twitched his hand as if thinking of copying her movement and let it still again.

" ... and Corporal Grioffon ..."

"Who should not have abandoned his post no matter what he heard," the dark-haired Dr. Majors cut in smoothly. The soldier disappeared, backing away, out of sight.

Ignoring the interruption, Dr. Campbell nodded toward the space directly in front of the fireplace, between the two club chairs.

"The Professor you've already met."

"And there you blew it," Jace snarked. With an exaggerated expression of mock sorrow, he shook his head sadly. "You were doing so well up to that point, Doc; you actually had me thinking you were sincere, but you just couldn't resist, could you? You just had to take the joke that one bit too far."

Alys Liddleton flinched. She drew her shoulders back, pulled herself up to her full height, expression stormy. Before she could say anything, Dr. Campbell replied, sounding truly regretful.

"I can't see him either." He sighed, splayed a hand toward the nearer of the wall of books. "My entire career has been devoted to the study of spirit phenomena, studying what I lacked the ability to see, or hear, or touch. I've had to rely on the talents of others, those like Dr. Collins or Miss Liddleton. And to the technical skill of men like Mr. Q."

Dr. Collins stepped forward, giving Campbell an expression fraught with meaning before addressing Jace again.

"Mr. Walker, we have been reviewing your records; academic and otherwise. We think we might be able to offer you a position here, if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions first."

"What? Why? I don't ... what kind of position?"

"In the Claire College Parascience programme," Dr. Campbell said.

"Why would you do that? I'm enrolled at University."

"You're scholarship has been revoked, boy. Didn't they tell you?" the old lady, Madame Dobransky, said.

Jace stared at her, blinking. His scholarship. Without it, he couldn't continue his studies. He hadn't even decided on his major yet and ... his academic career was over?

It didn't occur to him to disbelieve her.

"I ... no. Why would you ...? Why did they ...?" He needed to pull himself together, figure things out. He wasn't really surprise to learn that the money grant had been taken from him. He had missed more than a month of classes and he'd been gone for so long, they probably thought he was dead.

He looked up, met the old lady's eyes defiantly. "So why would you guys want to take me?" he demanded.

"Because you came back, boy. You went there and you came back. Where you have been once, you can return and you might be able to take others with you."

"Or bring them home again," Senator Buckminster blurted.

Madame Dobransky raised her voice but gave no other sign that she was aware of the interruption. "You are the key," she paused, cocking her head, frowning as she fixed her eyes on Jace, gazing at him as if seeing through him, scanning him on the cellular level, determining what he was made of.

The Senator added, pleadingly, "Rescue Buck and I ... I promise ..." His voice broke.

The old lady shook her head, thoughtful. "Half a key," she stated firmly. "Find the other half, and you will be free." Then she shrugged. "Or don't. Spend the rest of your life under a cloud of suspicion. Makes no nevermind to me."

She turned and a way opened for her pass, cane thumping down hard on the wooden flooring of the foyer. She stopped, half-turned and fixed a gimlet eye on Jace, frowing furiously. "Well, boy!" she snapped. "Are you coming or are you coming? I'm an old lady; I don't have all day!"

Jace started, took one step forward before he decided he would, then another and then he was walking out after the old lady; the three academics and the Senator stepping back to give him room.

Madame glared so pointedly at him that Jace offered her his arm, she took it in an iron grip, leaning most of her weight on it as they crossed over to the Parlour doors. Corporal Grioffon held the door open.

The Senator, and Doctors Collins, Campbell and Majors followed and Grioffon shut the down behind them, himself on the inside.