The Academy (Moving In Series Book 6) (20 page)

“Ah.”

The main door was open, and the two men passed through it. Brian winced at the evening light. “God, my head is killing me.”

“You will heal, my friend,” Leo said. “You always do.”

A single gunshot ruined the peace of the grounds.

Suddenly, Brian remembered Mitchell and Beth. He also remembered the boy, Herman. Brian looked at Leo. “We’re supposed to be getting the items together.”

Leo nodded. “Your cousin is at his office, I believe.”

Brian tried to walk towards the Admin building, but Leo held him back.

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked.

Leo opened his mouth, and then closed it. “You are too weak, Brian. The danger to you is too great. You should leave them to this task, Brian.”

Brian looked at Leo, confused. “I can’t. I have to help them. They’re good people and Mitchell’s my cousin, Leo.”

“Alright,” Leo said after a moment. “I will help you, Brian Roy.”

“Thanks,” Brian said. Leo supported him, enabling him to move quickly. They went around a tall, weeping willow and Brian saw one side of what looked to be a brutal fight.

Mitchell was on his back, an unseen force striking him repeatedly. Beth was on the stairs, her form limp while another invisible entity attacked her. A man lay on his back on the walkway, screaming. Herman stood near the man, an archery trophy in his left hand. Off to the right stood Nathaniel Weiss.

Weiss had his hands clasped loosely behind him, an expression of sheer joy was on his face. Weiss was glowing in the light, as though with every blow, his power increased.

And Weiss’s eyes never left Herman. Not once.

Then, as Beth was lifted up and slammed to the ground, Weiss shuddered. He no longer glowed, but shined. Nathaniel Weiss was now totally visible to everyone.

With a triumphant laugh, Weiss stepped towards Herman.

“Weiss!” Brian yelled.

Weiss and Herman looked to Brian, both of them surprised.

Brian shook off Leo’s hand, pointed at Weiss and spat, “You’re screwed!”

Weiss motioned to whoever was at the stairs, and Leo went to intercept them. Brian stalked towards Weiss.

“Herman,” Brian said as he reached the boy, “Do you have my ring?”

Herman nodded, slipped it off of his finger, and handed it to Brian.

“Thanks,” Brian said. He slipped it on, cleared his throat and spat out a glob of bloody mucus onto the ground.

Weiss, still shining, advanced towards Brian. “And what shall you do?”

“Whatever I want,” Brian said.

And Brian ran at Weiss, who tried to move out of the way. Hatred fueled Brian and drove him through his pain. Brian reached out and was just as surprised as Weiss when he managed to catch hold of the front of the man.

A flash of memory leaped into Brian’s thoughts, a late night spent with one of Leo’s books.
The Curious and Brief Physical Manifestation of Spirits of Exceptional Power.

“Look at that,” Brian hissed, “you’re just strong enough for me to touch you.”

With savage glee, he drove his right fist into Weiss’ mouth. He felt Weiss’ curious form quiver beneath his hand and felt a primal thrill as fear filled Weiss’ eyes.

Weiss brought his wrinkled hands up to protect himself, but Brian was a fighter. He felt no sympathy for the dead murderer in his clutches, and he poured every ounce of rage into his blows. Weiss tried to wrench himself free, lunging towards Herman who stood off to one side. The man’s strength was born of desperation. Brian continued to beat Weiss, knowing how with each blow he was shattering decades of planning and preparation made by Weiss.

Weiss let go a roar of fury, the force of the sound sending Brian back a step.

As Brian recovered, Weiss was upon him, the man’s hands pounding into Brian’s already aching head.

“Leave me be!” Weiss shrieked. “I will breathe again!”

Weiss formed his hands into a single fist and brought it crashing into Brian.

No,
Brian told himself, body shuddering from the blow to his chest.
No. I’m not going to die.

Two rapid punches struck Brian on the side of his head, but he blocked a third. He struck three times quickly, each one causing Weiss to stagger back.

You won’t defeat death,
Brian thought, snarling as he drove his fist into Weiss again.

“You’re going straight to Hell!” Brian screamed, and he struck Weiss once more.

Weiss screamed.

The unholy, foul sound was quickly drowned by a black cloud which billowed out of his mouth. Brian staggered back as Weiss was turned inside out, as though some great hand had reached down his throat, grasped his feet and started to pull.

Within seconds, he was gone, and Brian was left panting and shaking.

Chapter 57: Madness Reigns

For a moment, Herman watched Brian attack Nathaniel Weiss, and then a voice drew his attention away.

“Young man.”

Herman turned and looked at the man who had arrived with Brian. The stranger smiled at Herman and said, “May I have the trophy and the book, please?”

Herman blinked, glanced down at the trophy and said, “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

He pulled the book out of his pocket and handed both of the items to the stranger. It was then that Herman realized the two teenagers stood perfectly still as if they were frozen in place.

“Thank you,” the man said. He turned to the teenage girl and beckoned to her. She walked forward, her movements were jerky.

“Come now,” the man said gently, “in you must go.”

The girl nodded and reached out to the trophy. As soon as her fingers touched it, the girl vanished.

“Come Charles,” the man said, motioning to the teenage boy. The teenager glanced over at Brian and Weiss.

“No,” the man said firmly, “they are no concern of yours. Please, return to your book. Return to your safe place.”

The teenager’s shoulders drooped, then he nodded, and he too, walked over, reached out, and touched the paperback.

The stranger stood alone, holding the trophy and the book.

He walked quietly up the stairs and set the two items down in the metal shoebox. The stranger gestured with his hand and the lid closed by itself.

When he did, Weiss screamed. A terrible, painful sound which threatened to burst Herman’s eardrums. Wincing, Herman watched, horrified, as Weiss was pulled inside out. A black cloud exploded out of Weiss’s open mouth, dissipating in the air.

He glanced first at Mitchell Roy, then at Detective Skillings and nodded.

“Excellent,” the man said, walking back down the stairs. He stopped by the man Willis, who had passed out, and said to Herman, “You should apply pressure to the point of entry on the wound. Blood loss has contributed to his loss of consciousness. Continued loss will inevitably result in the man’s death.”

“What?” Herman asked, confused.

“Take your shirt off, fold it, and place it on the wound,” the man said. “He will die if you do not.”

“Oh,” Herman said. “Oh!”

Hurriedly, he took off his shirt, folded it a few times, and then put it on the bullet hole in Willis’ shoulder.

“Press firmly,” the stranger said, “or else you will not be successful.”

Herman did so, eliciting a grimace from the unconscious Willis.

“Excellent,” the stranger said. “Now, I take it you have the photograph of Nathaniel Weiss?”

“Um, yeah,” Herman said, trying to ignore the blood seeping up through the shirt. “It’s in my back pocket.”

“Good,” the stranger said, looking over at Brian and Weiss. “I believe Brian is done with the man.”

Herman turned his attention to Brian and winced at what he saw.

Chapter 58: A Brutal Beating

Brian sank to his knees, his entire body shaking. He closed his one good eye, took several long, deep breaths, and wondered if his heart would keep its curiously steady rhythm or decide it would be a great time to stop altogether.

“Brian,” Leo called.

Brian paused, looked over his shoulder, and saw Leo and Herman. The boy knelt beside a wounded man and was shirtless. The young teen was using the shirt as a compress. Leo was holding Weiss’s ambrotype.

Groaning, Brian got to his feet and walked woodenly over to them.

“Herman,” Brian said.

The boy looked up, horror and shock on his face.

“Where are the gloves, Herman?” Brian asked.

The boy nodded towards the right and Brian saw them on the ground.

Jesus it hurts,
Brian thought, wincing as he bent down to pick them up. He tugged them on and took the ambrotype from Leo.

“Thanks, Leo,” Brian said.

“Brian Roy,” Leo said carefully, “I do not think you should do much more of this business concerning ghosts.”

Brian let out a harsh, pained chuckle. “No. I think you’re right, Leo. I think this is the last rodeo for this cowboy.”

“What?” Leo asked.

“Nothing,” Brian said, smiling and wincing at the pain it caused. “Nothing. No, no more ghost hunting for me.”

“That is a wise decision, my friend,” Leo said sincerely. “I had spoken with Jennifer, your wife, earlier, and she made me promise to bind you to a tiara if you were to die as a result of this enterprise.”

“Fair enough,” Brian said. He turned his attention away from Leo and looked at Mitchell and Beth, both of whom were unconscious. “Oh Jesus, I need to call the paramedics. I can’t talk, Leo, I’m sorry.”

Leo said nothing, and when Brian looked back he saw Leo was gone.

“Okay,” Brian said. “Okay. Herman?”

Herman looked up, wide eyed still.

Brian knelt down and put his hands over the boy’s. “When I say ‘go,’ you’re going to take your hands away. I’ll keep the pressure on the wound and I want you to call the paramedics from the Admin building. The phones should be working in there, okay?”

“Okay,” Herman whispered.

Brian smiled reassuringly at the teen and said, “Go.”

Chapter 59: In His Room

The aftermath of the battle at the Academy had been confusing. Herman had called 911, and paramedics had soon arrived, relieving Brian of the stress of keeping the man who had been shot alive. In the chaos surrounding the scene, Herman had been largely forgotten. The police thought he had been nothing more than an innocent bystander. Detective Skillings hadn’t said anything, and Brian and Mitchell Roy had remained quiet too.

When the police had finished with their questions, and he had been treated for shock, Herman had gone home. His parents, not surprisingly, had been out. Herman had retreated to his room, securing the door and trying to forget what he had seen. He stared at the wall.

Am I going to be able to see ghosts forever?
he wondered.

Finally, Herman put on a fresh t-shirt, pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, and climbed into bed. He lay on his back and let his eyes wander over the shadows on the ceiling. As Herman lay in his bed with the lights on and the window open, he looked at the books on the bookcase.

I wonder,
Herman thought, yawning,
how many other haunted items are out there?

Chapter 60: Regrets

Mitchell Roy sat on a bench and stared at the work lights set up around the library. The powerful beams illuminated the entire front of the building. Police officers and forensic personnel where clearly defined in the stark light.

Beth came over, took a seat beside him and said, “How are you holding up?”

“Not too good,” Mitchell said honestly. “I almost killed my cousin. I called him here. He tried to help me, and he could have died. Christ, the guy’s had three heart attacks. Did you see him? He honestly looked like someone took a meat tenderizer to his face.”

She nodded. Brian had been taken away in an ambulance; his heartbeat was irregular.

“That’s not the worst of it, though,” Mitchell said, laughing bitterly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If he dies, I’ll have to tell his wife that he’s dead,” Mitchell said softly.

Chapter 61: At Home

Brian didn’t die at the hospital in Connecticut. Not by a long shot.

He had made a nearly unbearable phone call to Jenny from his hospital room, and he had received a well-deserved round of verbal abuse. She had even threatened to have him transported back to New Hampshire in an ambulance, but he had managed to talk her out of it. And he had been able to convince her to stay home and wait for him.

Although it was more the cardiologist who talked her out of that one,
Brian reminded himself.
And since I can actually see out of both eyes now.

Driving back one-eyed would have been more than he could have handled.

Brian took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the time.

Five in the morning.

He was parked in the driveway of their home, Jenny asleep on the second floor. All of the lights were off in the house and he sat behind the driving wheel. The car’s engine was turned off, the windows open. A warm, gentle breeze, heavy with the sweet smell of summer, wrapped lazily around him. In his white-gloved hands, he held the battered, coverless copy of
The Maltese Falcon
to which his brother was bound.

Brian licked his lips nervously, got out of the car, and closed the door gently behind him. His hands shook as he placed the book on the hood of the vehicle, stepped back, and whispered, “Charlie Roy.”

The air shimmered and his brother stood before him, eyes wary and fists clenched as he looked around in surprise.

“Hello Charlie,” Brian said softly. He took the gloves off and made certain the iron ring was still on his finger.

Charlie was tense, looking around nervously, hands clenching and relaxing repeatedly. He looked ready to spring as his eyes roamed, then settled on Brian.

“Hello Charlie,” Brian said again.

Charlie nodded. He looked around and then asked in a low, tight voice, “Where are we?”