Ghost of a Chance (Providence Paranormal College Book 8) Read online

  Ghost of a Chance

  Providence Paranormal College Book Eight

  D.R. Perry

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2016 D.R. Perry

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

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  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 2.0 July, 2021

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64971-885-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-886-0

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Wands Out

  Connect with the Author

  Also by D.R. Perry

  Other LMBPN Publishing Books

  Chapter One

  Horace

  I floated high in the air above Bianca Brighton as she checked for ghost issues on the first day of classes at good old Providence Paranormal College. I gazed down at her newly lavender hair, distracted. She'd dyed it just about every color of the rainbow at some point. I wasn’t sure why she’d changed it to that delicate shade of purple, though she usually told me just about everything. Ghosts and their Mediums often became best friends. Once they’d bonded by sharing a body with possession, however, the partnership got permanent. But we hadn’t crossed that line yet. I was too chicken for that.

  The lecture hall had such great acoustics I wondered why that vampire punk band didn’t play in here instead of the Nocturnal Lounge. I couldn’t figure out a thing about the undead, especially since they didn’t tend to leave ghosts, and I hadn’t met many while I was still solid. Dragons were a different matter altogether. Almost every single one of them that died left ghosts. Exceptionally disgruntled ones, too. And Blaine Harcourt’s two dead dads were more annoying than most.

  “All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t have been so hard on my boy, Wilfred.” I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder at the ghost of Ignacius Harcourt. I knew his square, handsome features would be cast in a mold of barely concealed anger, ironically framed by his shaggy, auburn hair. That hair and his temper were two of the legacies he’d left Blaine.

  “And I say your kid needed more tough love than even I could dish out.” Wilfred snorted. “He was lucky to have me. Just look at the situation his mother has put him in now and tell me again how he should have had it easier, Iggy.”

  “Don’t you dare call me that, or so help me—”

  “Knock it off.” This time, I turned fully around, using both hands to snap my fingers in front of their two faces at the same time. “Just look at what all your bickering is doing and shut your traps already.” I flattened my hand and gestured at the chaos below.

  The ghosts of dragons past went silent as they watched what looked like an entire ream of paper scattering around the room below us. Some of the last airborne pieces see-sawed their way down courtesy of gravity we ghosts didn’t have to obey. Each sheet bore the bolded header “Fall Syllabus,” and some were pursued by dismayed students.

  “I’m sorry,” said Wilfred. I nodded, then glared at his longer-dead verbal sparring partner.

  “Yes, I realize I should know better.” Ignacius rolled his eyes, looking exactly like his son, Blaine. “I ought to just hide away somewhere, even if it means losing all my marbles and going wraith.”

  “You know better, Ig.” The oldest ghost I knew leaned against nothing, tilting the tricorn hat he always wore askew on his white-wigged head. “And if Mister Horace Lancaster here didn’t try to stop you, you’d both risk losing your jobs with the College. Because I’d have to go through channels to tell the Headmistress about your bad behavior.”

  “I don’t like tattle-tails, Rob.” I put one fist against my hip and brandished the other. “No one does.”

  “Actually, everyone solid does, especially the ones who aren’t able to see us,” Rob smirked. “This is an Incorporeal Studies course, and I’ve got more experience with teaching this sort of thing than you, Porous Horace.”

  “Just in case time has addled what passes for your brain, sir, we’re all porous.” Wilfred’s sick burn reminded me that the dragon ghost still had some figurative teeth.

  “Quit sucking up to me.” I almost felt guilty for pointing at the still-scattered syllabi and glaring again. “If you really want points with Skeleton Crew management, go and help those poor kids clean your mess up, already.”

  “You know you’re a huge square, Horace, right?” Rob’s eyes twinkled with a child-like glee, then crinkled at the corners. Typical behavior from him.

  “At least I’m a shape other than round.” I side-eyed Rob’s portly figure.

  “What can I say? I felt like being plump today.” His hat changed color from black to red, an ectoplasmic testament to his ghostly willpower and long experience. Of course, he’d use it on something frivolous and cosmetic like that. The fact that he hung around with the youngest confirmed medium in Providence made complete sense, considering his immature jokes. “Uncool. Is that the reason you and Miss Bianca haven’t sealed your deal yet?”

  “Knock it off, Rob. I mean, seriously.” I shook my head, adjusting the bowler hat I favored. “We shouldn’t be making each other angry. It’s bad enough with double dragon trouble all the time over here.” I sighed, shaking my head as Wilfred and Ignacius continued their dead dad rivalry while gathering syllabi into a pile that resembled a bird’s nest.

  “I think your medium might need some extra help this semester.” Rob winked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I jerked my chin at Bianca. Surely Rob could see how exhausted she looked. The way she sagged sideways in her seat tugged at my conscience. I felt like I could have worked harder to take care of her during that band battle business over the summer. I was about to leave Rob holding the remains of the conversation and sail down to ask how she was doing until two of her solid friends sauntered into the lecture hall, waving. Lynn Frampton dropped a breakfast sandwich on the desk nearest Bianca, and Olivia Adler set a coffee beside it.

  “It means it’s a good thing your Miss Brighton’s got visible friends.” Rob glanced to either side, then leaned closer before speaking in a hushed voice. “I’m here to keep an eye on someone, I’ll let you guess who.”

  Before I could ask him what that he meant again, he shot upward through the ceiling. The side of Rob’s head, including an ear and one corner of his hat, protruded from one of the acoustic tiles. Wilfred and then Ignacius had just started trying to straighten the leaning tower of paper into something more upright. They froze as a voice shrill enough to have come from a banshee sounded front and center in the lecture hall.

  “Oh. My. Gawd!”


  I turned slowly, expecting exactly what I saw before I’d even come full circle. The woman at the podium had dark hair, nearly black, and parted down the center. It hung to just past her shoulders, complementing the olive tone complexion of her face, which was crisscrossed with crow’s feet and other fine lines. The only thing missing from that vision of Italian-American maternity was the brandishing of a wooden spoon.

  “Fewmets.” Wilfred spoke, but it was Ignacius who looked nervous. “That’s Delilah Redford. She must be picking up the slack with Watkins in that coma.”

  “Can it, Wilfred,” she snapped. “I’m so happy to see that some disembodied hoodlums made a huge mess of my lecture hall.” The woman cleared her throat, pointing up at us as she spoke again. “You three wise guys get your willpower under control, or so help me, I’ll get even wiser on your collective behinds.”

  I smiled. This tirade was classic Mrs. Redford. Students chuckled, one of them actually slapping his knee before I recognized him as Tony Gitano. Of course, he’d side with the woman who fed him over the Nocturnal Lounge’s ghosts. Who also fed him. Possibly more frequently since the resident Redcap had gone and gotten himself stuck in the Seelie side of the Under. My smile faded. I tried to swallow the sourness of my irony down as I floated down to help Ignacius steady the photocopied sheets on the table beside Mrs. Redford.

  Bianca caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. Lynn shrugged, and Olivia squinted. I headed for the door along with my medium. She had another class in the hall next door after all. Wilfred and Ignacius were right behind me, and I couldn’t blame them for wanting to create space between themselves and an angry medium.

  Mrs. Redford’s eyes might as well have been laser beams with the way they got all piercing. She shooed us as we went, mumbling something else about ghosts keeping their emotionally fueled incorporeal hands to ourselves. The dragon dad duo wafted out the door, but I went through the nearest wall just because I could.

  Halfway through the summer, Bianca Brighton and I had managed to piss off a frighteningly powerful Extramagus. I hadn’t left her alone for more than a few minutes at a time since then. I couldn’t bear the thought of letting her die again. After all, I’d promised to protect her the night she’d done it the first time and become a medium in the first place.

  “I’ve got no idea.” Lynn hoisted a backpack that had to weigh half of what she did over one shoulder, then opened the door to the vestibule on her way outside. “I just don’t know Professor Redford well enough to decide whether I think she’s acting weird.”

  “She’s not a professor, technically,” said Bianca. “No advanced degree. Anyway, that makes two of us.” She glanced at Olivia, who shrugged. “Okay, that’s three.” She turned her head my way, raising an eyebrow. “Horace?”

  “You mean he’s here?” Lynn smiled, then waved in my general direction. “Hi! Nice to— ahem— see you again.” I liked Lynn, despite the snarky sense of humor. That was a common opinion amongst the corporeally challenged at PPC. She was one of the few people who actually remembered to thank the helper ghosts even though she couldn’t see us.

  I winked and said, “Back at you, Frampton,” even though she couldn’t hear me.

  “Hoo, boy.” Olivia’s shoulders shook. Bianca also giggled, then yawned. “Drink your coffee, Bianca.” The owl shifter raised her own cup. “We all need to get adjusted to the late shift.”

  “It’s broken.” Bianca turned the cup upside-down with an exaggerated pout because she'd already drunk it. “Hole in the top, tragic loss of hot caffeinated goodness.” She pressed the back of one hand to her forehead. “Whatever will I do?”

  “Get more, of course.” Lynn pushed through the exterior door. “Hey, by the way, when do you two start working on that case with Mr. Ichiro again?”

  “Next week.” Olivia held the door for Bianca. “That’s when the hospital says people who aren't on the guestlist can see Professor Watkins.”

  “What’s the holdup been on that, anyway?” Lynn shook her head, striding off toward the dining hall. “With Professor Brodsky’s trial in October, you’d think all the real adults would want everything investigated yesterday. I mean, Doctor Klein seems reasonable enough to understand that.” The genius had a point as usual.

  “I dunno.” Olivia shrugged. “But it has something to do with licensing and law enforcement. It's them trying to get Mrs. Redford to go and check him out first because she's got better credentials than Bianca. But she never made it in, according to Mr. Ichiro. Something always comes up, and she cancels or doesn’t make it in time before visiting hours are over.”

  “She manages to find time to fill in here on campus, but can’t be bothered to go and actually see if he’s brain dead for real or just out of his body.” Bianca set her jaw. I knew she’d gotten her teeth into a loose thread. She wouldn’t be letting it go any time soon, either. “Four months is way too long to avoid something like that.”

  “That seems odd for sure.” Lynn scratched her head. “We’re all going to have to put overtime hours on our thinking caps this semester, too, I guess. Just like the last one.”

  “Tell them I’m always wearing mine.” I caught Bianca’s eye and tipped the bowler hat I always kept materialized on my head. She relayed my message, and I smiled.

  “Maybe you can get in to talk to Ed, then, Horace.” Lynn reached for the dining hall door. “It’s not like any of the rest of us are allowed to see him. It's like he's reverse grounded or something.”

  Only Bianca knew I’d already tried that. Every time I’d gone by, the house had been warded, and Mrs. Redford always said her son was either asleep or busy. We didn’t bother mentioning it because there wasn’t much we could do about it. Maybe we should have.

  “It must suck for the poor kid. It’s bad enough he can’t see his brother until his mom okays it.” Bobby Tremain pulled the door open, holding it for all three ladies. I got a little jealous. Doors were beyond the scope of my ability to move. I’d never been able to hold a door for Bianca, no matter how much I might like to.

  “Well, you can’t blame Mrs. Redford for being overprotective after Ed got spirited away to the Seelie court.” Olivia ducked under Bobby’s arm.

  “This goes way beyond overprotective.” Bianca sighed. “Irina says she pulled him from school, won’t even let him come over for violin lessons. And Delilah’s been friends with the Kazinskys for decades, too. You’d think she’d trust Irina and her Grandpa.”

  I sailed through the door Bobby had kept open, wondering exactly how bad Mrs. Redford’s paranoia might be. I hung around with Bianca even though she wasn’t keeping ghost-friendly company. My own irrational fears were a known quantity, after all.

  But as it turned out, Delilah Redford’s odd behavior wasn’t paranoia at all. And my own fears were absolutely on point.

  Chapter Two

  Bianca

  I sat in the ICU waiting room at Rhode Island Hospital, trying not to look at the incorporeal people scattered around the hall. Two seats over from me, an elderly ghost woman knitted, her wooden needles making sounds only I could hear. No one else in the waiting area saw her. Well, that wasn’t true.

  I tried tuning her out so I could listen to Yoshi Ichiro negotiate with the Charge Nurse. Even though I’d wanted to come here the day after the Newport Battle of the Bands, legal technicalities had slowed my momentum. It had taken the rest of the summer for Mr. Ichiro to get my name on the court order with Mrs. Redford's, which would allow the lawyer to use any information I might gather from our visit in the case going to trial this October. I didn’t catch everything he said, just the fact that we’d be allowed to visit the comatose Professor. Finally.

  “The laws may stay the same, but everything changes this year.” Mr. Ichiro turned his weary gaze toward the other solid student and me. He sat down, right in the knitting ghost. Ichiro-san’s skills in the courtroom rocked, but he had no Psychic awareness at all. “Your schedule is one of those changes, Miss Adler. How i
s the nocturnal life going for you so far?”

  “It’s okay, I guess. But I still don’t really understand the reason for it, sir.” Olivia twirled a lock of her hair between two of her fingers, staring at the floor despite the respectful address. While Mr. Ichiro wasn’t a full-time Professor with tenure, internships at his law firm were highly sought-after by Extrahuman Law students like Olivia Adler, the formerly diurnal owl shifter.

  “Your internship requires that you complete the next two semesters of study as a nocturnal student, like Miss Brighton.” Yoshi Ichiro glanced at me, his eyebrow raised before turning his gaze back to Olivia. “The judge presiding over Professor Brodsky’s case works strictly in the night court, and I already have enough interns in the daytime for the rest of the year.”

  “I think this is a good thing.” Horace leaned forward, putting his grinning face, monocle and all, between my classmate and me. “Poor Miss Adler’s much less addled without all the medication changing her sleep schedule, don’t you think?” My ghostly medium friend elbowed me. Well, not really. His elbow went straight through my shoulder. He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.”

  “After all the years you’ve been a ghost, you should know better, dude.” I chuckled because Horace always pulled stunts like that just when I needed a laugh.

  “Don’t call me ‘dude.’” Horace shook his head. I could just make out the sign that said “Nurse’s Station” through his bowler hat. I thought he must be saving his energy for the encounter with Professor Watkins.