Chapter 5
Farnsworth
The walk to the university is pleasant, if slightly overstimulating.
The architecture of the city reminds me of centuries past, but it’s mixed with the trappings of modern life around it.
Borja navigates the crowded sidewalks with ease, walking confidently towards our destination, while my mind keeps replaying that awkward moment on the train when our bodies collided.
It’s a useless exercise to try and recall the time I engaged in the pleasures of the flesh.
It’s best to avoid acknowledging the reality of my solitary existence.
I could visit the Above for carnal pursuits, like my predecessor did, but I don’t see the point.
I would have to return to my quiet, cold apartment, beginning the cycle of torment over and over again until it eventually drove me mad.
Though the modern world is much more accepting of men like me, it doesn’t change the truth: I don’t belong here. I haven’t for centuries.
To have Borja’s sensibilities and confidence is a fleeting dream to me. He marches through the world, unafraid and unapologetic about who he is, and while I’m quite comfortable at home, here in the Above, I feel like a fish out of water.
I do feel a bit silly now for having ignored all the presentations on modern amenities that the scouts have brought back over the years, preferring instead to stay firmly planted in my favorite musical decade, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to update my knowledge of things.
Who knew phones were pocket devices now?
Likely the scouts did, but I ignored it, assuming it had no relevance to my tasks.
To be fair, it didn’t until now. It was certainly more efficient than traipsing all over Boston looking for someone though.
“Here we are.” Borja points to the mid-size brick building at the end of the street. “She teaches history. Let’s find the directory.”
Nodding, I follow him, noting his ease in figuring out next steps. I thought I would be leading him much more than I am, but Borja doesn’t hesitate and jumps right in.
Before we can find the directory, a crowd of people gathers in front of a smaller brick building to our left. Borja is already heading in that direction by the time I notice it, so I quickly follow him. We stop alongside two women who are gazing at the building with concerned expressions.
“What happened here?” Borja asks.
One woman turns to him. “Not sure yet, but I heard a professor was attacked.”
“In broad daylight,” the other woman says, clutching a book to her chest.
“Do you know who?” I ask.
Both women shake their heads. Borja glances at me, his brow furrowed, and I nod, understanding his unspoken question. I hope it’s not W. Carole, but that would be a hell of a coincidence.
The double doors to the building open and a man steps out with two first responders. The man in the suit raises his hand to get the attention of the small crowd.
“Everything is fine, students,” the man says. “Professor Carole is a bit shaken but unharmed. Her classes are canceled for the day, and she’ll communicate further if there are additional updates.”
The students disperse, murmuring among themselves, but Borja and I stay planted. We obviously need to speak to Professor Carole. Once we’re able to get past everyone, we quietly slip into the building.
I’m immediately hit with a wave of dark energy, but it’s not the Horror. Borja stalls next to me, reaching out to grip my wrist, his breath catching in his chest. I follow his gaze to a hallway filled with benign spirits who, upon seeing me, flit off in all directions, disappearing into the walls.
“Does that get easier over time? Seeing ghosts and stuff?”
“Yes.”
He nods, still holding on to me until I step forward slowly. “I imagine the professor is down this hall.”
“Right.” He releases me and exhales slowly. “It feels weird in here, right?”
“Yes. Something lingers, but it’s not the benign spirits and it’s not the Horror. Something else.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“That’s bad, right? You know everything.”
“Not everything. It’s okay. Let’s continue our mission.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We walk together down the hall, pausing in front of an open door. I peer inside, finding a woman slumped over a desk, her head resting on her folded arms.
“Excuse us,” I say as softly as possible so as not to startle her.
The woman’s head snaps up. “Who are you?”
“We’re here to help.”
“Are you okay?” Borja asks.
“Am I okay?” The woman stands, gesturing around the room at the books and papers on the floor, the toppled chair and bookcase. “I’ve been better. Again, who are you?”
“Are you Professor Carole?” I ask delicately.
The woman’s expression tightens. “Yes. Now identify yourselves before I call the police.”
“I’m here to help, Professor. My name is Farnsworth Renard, and this is Borja Diaz, my colleague.”
“Uh-huh. What do you want?”
“Are we to understand you had an incident recently? Perhaps related to a book purchase?”
Her eyes widen as she steps back. “How did you know that?”
“It’s why we’re here. The book… do you have it?”
With a shaky finger, she points across the room where a book lies under the window, its spine broken and pages torn. “What’s wrong with it?”
“We’re not sure,” I reply while Borja is already heading for the book, “but we think it has something unpleasant attached to it. Can you tell us what happened?”
She nods, her unruly red curls bouncing.
“I’ve been looking for that book for months, and I got a call this morning that one of the book dealers found it.
I purchased it and came to campus to do my job.
I was sitting here at my desk flipping through its pages, and at first, I thought I was imagining it, but the book seemed to be vibrating.
The further into the book I got, the more intense it got.
Then…” She pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “I feel insane saying this aloud.”
“We’ll believe you. I promise.”
“Okay, well, the book flew out of my hands and across the room, and as it did so, it was like a storm was unleashed, blowing everything around. I tried to run out, but the door slammed and wouldn’t open, so I ducked under my desk.
It must have lasted several minutes, and then it was just done.
Everything stopped abruptly. My colleagues were able to open the door and they rushed in to help.
Campus police came shortly after, but I had no reasonable explanation for what happened.
They assumed someone did this, a person, and since I hid, I had no description to give them. ”
Borja returns with the harmless looking book and hands it to me. I look it over, feeling nothing trapped inside it.
“But it wasn’t a person,” the professor says. “It was the book.”
“It wasn’t actually the book,” I explain. “But you’re right, it wasn’t a person either. Something was attached to the book, but it’s gone now.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. I sense it.”
“Are you… a medium or something?”
“Or something.” I flip the book over. “It’s not here though. Whatever it was is gone.”
“Will it come back?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I get the feeling it won’t. I’ll leave my card. Should something happen again, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“You’re taking that book with you, right? I don’t want it here.”
“I can take it, but I assure you there’s nothing wrong with it now.”
“A lot of the pages are ripped out. I’ll have to find another copy anyway.”
I nod, handing the book back to Borja.
“You didn’t see anything at all?” Borja asks.
Professor Carole shakes her head. “No, but again, I was under my desk for most of it.”
“Fair.”
“How did you know to come here?” she asks. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
“We were at the bookstore where you purchased the book, and we were told by…” I pause, but considering her recent experience as well as the subject of the book, I suppose she can handle the truth.
“By?” she says.
“By the spirits who inhabit the store. They told us you bought the book, and we had a sense that there was an entity attached to it.”
“So, what you’re telling me is the spirit world is real.”
‘“Quite.”
“Don’t you already believe that?” Borja asks. “You bought a book on spiritualism.”
“I teach the history and trends of the subject. The book in your hand is said to be one of the authorities on the topic from the early twentieth century. I’ve had my suspicions about what resides on the other side of the veil, but until today, my experiences have been easily explainable. Not anymore.”
“Tell me about it,” Borja murmurs, glancing at me.
“We’ll go now,” I say. “Again, do call if anything else happens.”
“I will. Thank you.”
We turn to leave, but she stops us.
“Could it have hurt me?”
I frown, nodding. “Yes, but fortunately it seems you weren’t its target. We’ll find it and take care of it.”
Professor Carole looks down at my card. “Okay. Be careful.”
“We will be.”
Borja and I leave, silently walking together until we’re outside and out of earshot of people, then he excitedly grabs my arm, stopping me on the sidewalk.
“Holy shit, Farnsworth. It ripped through her office like a hurricane.”
“Yes.” I tap the book in my hand against my palm. “But since it’s not in the book, I fear it was just using it as some sort of avenue to get back to the Above. It’s going to be harder to track down than I hoped.”
“We got this.” Borja smiles. “What do we do now?”
“We read this book and research it to find out if there’s anything specific that attracted the Horror to it. That information may help us understand where it went next.”
Borja scrunches his nose. “That sounds boring.”
“Boring? Research is sometimes part of the job. Without it, where would you decide to go next?”
He blinks rapidly a few times, then huffs. “Won’t your tablet thingy tell you where it is?”
“Vaguely, but I’d rather not waste time chasing it around Boston if we can be more focused in our efforts.”
“Fine. That’s reasonable. Back to my place, then?”
“For now, yes. I hope it continues to choose objects and not people, though you saw the potentially dangerous outcome of that route.”
“I bet that’s scary as fuck.”
“For a mortal, yes.” I may have to do a bit of research on the Horror’s background, since it’s all just a vague memory for me at this point. “The more we can find out about it, the stronger we’ll be against it.”
“So, I guess we’re reading.”
“As best we can with torn pages.”
Borja grins. “That’s why we have the internet. Someone probably posted it somewhere.”
“A book on the internet? Fascinating.”
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he tugs me closer in a friendly hug. It’s slightly uncomfortable but strangely soothing at the same time.
“Just wait. I can blow your mind with what’s out there.”
“Something to look forward to, then.”
Borja’s gaze meets mine and he offers a soft smile.
For just a moment I imagine what it would be like to know a man in the carnal sense, but quickly erase the folly.
Borja is my colleague, and the very worst thing I could do is blur the line of professionalism.
Besides, I’m here to guide him then we’ll go our separate ways.
A moment of delight isn’t worth the fallout.