7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lieutenant Fischer was a tall, striking man with a tight military haircut brushed through with silver. He was probably in his late fifties but he was still very fit. It was unnerving to see him so rattled.

The eight of us followed him into the section of the building where there were the administrative offices – and gaped at the sight that greeted us. The glass-fronted office for visiting TAC officers was in total chaos. To all intents and purposes it looked like it was in the middle of a hurricane – but one that was taking place inside .

‘Any idea how to stop it?’ Fischer asked Marks desperately.

Eyes wide, Marks shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’

Fischer frowned angrily. ‘There’s important documentation in there! He could destroy it! Help me get the door open!’ He pulled down on the door handle with all of his might but he couldn’t open it even an inch. Marks, Danny and George went to help but the door didn’t budge even with their combined might.

‘Petty Peril!’ Fischer shouted, pounding on the door with his fist. ‘That is enough !’

Everything inside the office was swirling in a violent, devastating cyclone. The desk had been knocked over, filing cabinets sent flying and huge flurries of papers were twirling around in an aerial vortex.

Fischer turned to us. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Spread out, make sure no one human comes this way! We can’t have them seeing this shitshow!’

We fanned out to check for interlopers. The other recruits were on study period and shouldn’t have been out and about, so although the risk was there it was low. As far as they were aware, we were having ‘remedial’ lessons to bring us up to standard. It sucked that everyone thought we were failing, but we’d needed a smokescreen to hide what we were and what we were really doing in those ‘extra’ classes.

One of the metal filing cabinets rose up and thudded against the window, making us all duck. Luckily the glass didn’t shatter, but I figured it was a close-run thing. The cabinet hit the ground with a whump and I guessed that answered the question whether the poltergeist was a threat. If anyone had been inside the office they would have been impaled by pencils and pens or battered by a freaking filing cabinet. They might have even suffered a papercut or two, and those hurt like a bitch.

I studied the angry swirl. How did you stop something invisible? I couldn’t very well roll this ‘Petty’ onto his stomach and cuff his hands behind him.

We watched for another minute or two until suddenly everything stopped. Papers fluttered to the ground and nothing else moved. ‘It’s burned itself out.’ Sidnee sounded grim.

I gave her a sharp look and made a mental note to question her later about her experience with poltergeists. I was sure she’d had some because her tone was so knowing.

The lieutenant went to open the door and this time it swung open. He paused cautiously, waited, and when nothing moved went inside. ‘We’re lucky Captain Engell wasn’t in here,’ he remarked. Captain Engell: that must be the name of the new TAC officer, the one Danny had said was former MIB, who was replacing Lieutenant Polk.

We filtered into the room. ‘We’ll have to blame vandals,’ Fischer muttered, raking a hand through his shorn hair.

‘We can clean it up, sir,’ George volunteered. The wolverine shifter was always eager to please the officers and I wondered if it was an alpha/beta thing or a personality trait.

I helped Marks put the desk upright then we started moving filing cabinets, picking up papers and stacking them on the desk. There were tonnes of pages with random numbers on them. I was willing to bet they were the Academy’s financial records and none of them would make sense when they were out of order like this, so we stacked them randomly. The filing cabinet had stayed locked, much to Fischer’s visible relief, so everything was neat and tidy in short order. Someone who understood the documents would have to refile them, poor bastard.

Whilst we cleaned up, the sergeant and the lieutenant spoke in hushed murmurs in the hall. It was unnerving to see two such competent men spooked; their body language was screaming out their concern. I guessed they’d realised they were dealing with an angry poltergeist, and by their clenched jaws they didn’t appear to have a clue how to do it. All aboard the novice train, it was going to be a wild ride. I should know; I’d been tooting that horn since I rolled into Portlock.

I looked at Sidnee and tilted my head towards the two whispering men. She glanced at them then looked back at me; looking grim, she nodded her assent. We had to help them get to the bottom of the ghost situation. It was time for the poltergeist to go. So far no one had been hurt but it was only a matter of time if it was ramping things up.

By the time we’d finished tidying up, our supernat class was over. I tried to hide my disappointment when the sergeant dismissed us instead of taking us back to the classroom, but at least we still had an hour left to study before lights out. We all hurried back to our rooms.

The academy’s library was small but I’d have to scour it tomorrow for books on ghosts and poltergeists. In the meantime, I had a couple of other resources to tap into. I got out my phone and called Connor. ‘Hey, Bunny,’ he answered warmly. ‘How are you?’

I sighed. ‘I’ve been better. There’s been a couple of incidents, supposedly with a poltergeist.’

‘A poltergeist?’ Alarm coloured his tone. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Honestly? Nothing much so far – a missing notebook, a lectern being shoved over, that sort of thing. But the thing’s just gone absolutely nuts in the TAC office. We were lucky no one was in there because they’d have been hurt – or worse.’ I paused and shook my head. ‘Do you know anything about poltergeists? Like how to get rid of them?’ I asked hopefully. Connor had lived a longer than average life so maybe he had some insights to offer.

‘I know they’re not good news, but not much more than that,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve never experienced one myself. Things are quiet here at the moment so I can dig into them for you. I have some books I can look at, and I can ask Liv what she knows.’

I winced; the necromancer didn’t have a whole lot of love for me since I’d arrested her ass. ‘How is she doing?’ I asked.

‘Still keeping her head down.’

Liv had been possessed by some gemstones and under their influence she’d done some pretty damnable stuff, like seriously hurting Sigrid and Stan. She hadn’t been in control of her actions, though, so she was still free to go about her business. Thinking of her gave me an idea: I’d call Father Brennan! Surely the priest could help since spirits were in his wheelhouse.

‘Understandable. And how are you, Connor? Is everything okay?’

He laughed a little. ‘Situation normal—’

‘—all fucked up?’ I finished with a grin. Portlock was never dull.

‘You got it. It’s fine, nothing to worry about. As I said, relatively quiet. I’m looking forward to seeing you.’

‘Me too,’ I said wistfully. ‘But I’d better go. I don’t have much time until lights out.’

‘No problem.’ He paused. ‘Bunny?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ll be thinking of you at lights out.’ His voice was low and husky. And then he hung up.

Oh boy! I took a cold sip of water to ease my suddenly parched throat and struggled to get my head back in the game for my next two calls.

Unfortunately, Father Brennan’s Irish lilt filled my ear as his voicemail told me to ‘leave a message’. I did so but kept it vague. Finally I called Gunnar and was surprised – and alarmed – when Sig answered his phone. ‘Hi, Bunny,’ she answered with her usual maternal warmth.

I gripped the phone tighter. ‘Is Gunnar okay?’

She sighed. ‘He’s fine but tired. With you and Sidnee both gone, he’s run ragged.’ I felt a surge of guilt. ‘I finally persuaded the stubborn man to get some sleep and I snuck his phone away from his bedside when he was snoring. I didn’t want him to be disturbed. I’m watching the office on CCTV for him tonight so April can get some downtime, too.’ April Actos had been a brilliant addition to the Nomo’s office; that woman was fierce.

‘I’m sorry.’ My voice was small.

‘Now don’t you go feeling guilty, Bunny! This course is necessary for your advancement. You’re going to come back swinging, and Gunnar needs that from you. This is a short-term hassle for a long-term gain – it’s worth it and you are worth it. And Sidnee is, too. I’m so proud of you both.’

The rising guilt settled. ‘Thanks, Sigrid.’

‘Now, what are you calling for?’

‘To chat,’ I lied hastily. Now that I knew Gunnar was flat out, I didn’t need to add poltergeist research to his plate. Connor would come through, or maybe even the library here, and I still had Father Brennan. I had plenty of lines to tug so I could call Gunnar another time if I got desperate. ‘I won’t call again,’ I promised Sig.

‘Don’t you dare stop calling!’ she scolded. ‘That man loves you with all of his big heart and he’d be crushed if you stopped checking in! You hear me?’ Sig was a hearth witch and she was often all cuddles and gentle curves, but today her tone brooked no argument. All her softness had been stripped away to show her iron core now that she was in full protective mode. I would rather have removed my charmed necklace and stepped into sunlight than mess with her.

‘Yes ma’am,’ I said hastily.

‘Good.’ She paused. ‘How’s my Sidnee doing?’

I looked at my friend. Her books were spread out on her bed and she was frowning as she made notes. She was working hard and I felt another twinge of guilt: it was so much easier for me because of my ridiculous memory. ‘She’s doing great. Working hard, kicking butt and taking names.’

‘That’s my girl,’ Sigrid said proudly. ‘You keep an eye on each other.’

‘We will,’ I promised. ‘Good night Sig.’

‘Goodnight, Bunny. Sweet dreams.’

I slid my phone into my footlocker. ‘Hey, Sidnee,’ I called. ‘Sigrid sends love.’ I hesitated but in the end, I went for it. ‘Can we talk about your experience with poltergeists?’

She froze, then buried her head in her books again. ‘Not now.’ Her voice was sharp. ‘I’m studying. Not all of us are lucky enough to have your memory.’

Ouch. She was stressing out, so I let her snarl slide and checked the time. I had maybe half an hour left for tomorrow’s reading. I pulled out the text and started to scan-read the next chapter. Who knew what sort of instructor Engell would be? If he was ex-MIB, I was guessing he’d be tough.

I settled into my books; I was not going to be found wanting.