The Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Books 1-3: Books 1-3 in the Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Series Read online

  Paranormal Institute Box Set

  Books 1-3 of the Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Series

  Lora Edwards

  Contents

  1888-The Ripper File

  1718-The Blackbeard File

  1901-The Society File

  Editing by Ashlee Enz, and C.Marie

  Cover by: Bukovero Designs

  For My Mother

  Prologue

  “I am sorry you feel that way Father, but we believe this is what’s best for Teagan.” Seraphim looked at her father, beseeching him to understand.

  “Hugh, we want her to know what it’s like to be a normal child, without magic and the expectations she will encounter as a member of the fae royal family, and as a member of a powerful witch family. We want her to be able to choose to have a normal life if she wants one,” Thallan said to his father-in-law, wishing he could understand.

  “You will deny her a part of herself—her birthright—so she can be normal? What is so damn special about normal? Look at her! She is happy here, and she does not know any different. What will happen when you rip away her magic, the only life she has known?” Hugh raged and flung his arm toward the child standing on the other side of the room.

  They all looked over at the little girl clutching a stuffed dragon where she stood in front of an ornate stained-glass window. She sang softly as she watched the changing scenes reflected in the colorful glass. The beauty of a field of lavender became an empty beach with aquamarine waves foaming over the sand then a green velvet field with a large tree in the center, just begging for a child to run and play, maybe stop for a picnic under the spreading branches of the oak. The small girl smiled at the shifting images then looked back at the worried adults at the table. She turned back, still smiling, and drew a pink heart in the air before going back to manipulating the scenes, singing and giggling as she watched.

  “You would deny her this? Deny her the joy she gets from being here?” Hugh asked them with a steely glare.

  “Father, we have decided Teagan needs to be able to decide what she wants, not be pushed and prodded by the witches or the fae. She needs to choose the life she wants without interference,” Seraphim pleaded.

  “I am sorry you do not agree with our decision, but it is final. We will make our home in America, on the east coast. You are more than welcome to visit and be a part of Teagan’s life,” Thallan said, placing a protective arm around his wife.

  “A part of her life, but lying to her the whole time? Keeping our true nature from her? You make a foolish choice, daughter, but she is your child. I will stay involved, and I will mourn what you take from her. I hope what you are doing does not come back to haunt you.” Hugh folded his arms across his chest, a frown of displeasure on his face.

  With tears in her eyes, Seraphim reached out to her daughter, sending a small blue orb floating toward the child. Teagan looked curiously at the orb, her small hand reached out, the orb landed gently on her hand, and slowing absorbed into the skin of her palm.

  “Momma, where did the pictures go? I feel funny,” Teagan asked, looking to her mother for comfort. Behind her the window went dark, the stained glass frozen on the last scene, reflecting the library and the books.

  “It will fade my love. Come say goodbye to Grandpa, it is time to go. We have a plane to catch,” Seraphim told her, guiding her over to her grandfather.

  Dragging her feet, Teagan moved to stand in front of him, and lively green eyes met faded blue ones. “Goodbye Grandpa, I miss you already,” the little girl said as tears welled in her eyes.

  “It is not goodbye, my sweet girl, only until I see you again. I will come visit you in your new house, and it will be most exciting for you with new friends,” Hugh said as he wrapped her in his big arms.

  “I do not want exciting, I want to stay with you and the window, and my friends here. Grandpa, I still feel funny.” Teagan looked up at him, frowning.

  “It will fade child, it will fade, and when you are ready, I will help you find it again,” he said, his voice trembling on the last words.

  “Teagan, we must go,” Thallan said.

  “Okay Daddy,” Teagan said, shrugging her shoulders, and taking her mother’s hand. She took one more look back, a tear escaping down her freckled cheek as she gazed back at her grandpa, the window, the library where she loved to spend time with him.

  “You will come here again Teagan, and I will always be with you.” She heard his voice whisper through her mind, full of a hope his sad face did not reflect.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Teagan sucked in a deep breath and walked into the large amphitheater classroom at Duke University. She had begged and pleaded with the dean of the history department to let her add this specialty class to her teaching rotation—the first of many, she hoped. Looking through the small pane of glass into the room, she was pleased and surprised to see the room filling up, and she hoped the course would be a success. It appeared that there were still a lot of people interested in a few 100-year-old unsolved murders.

  With one more deep breath, she smoothed down her navy pencil skirt, tugged at the long full sleeves of her bright blue silk blouse, and pushed the door open.

  The low rumble of conversations sounded throughout the room. She stood in front of the lectern and faced the assembled students, hands clasped in front of her.

  She waited as the conversations dwindled to nothing, and the assembled students sat forward in their seats as an air of expectation filled the room.

  Teagan moved to the side of the giant screen behind her. A single click of the remote in her hand caused a gruesome scene flashed onto the screen: a dead woman on a table, her eyes wide and staring. A chorus of echoes sounded from the assembled students.

  “Welcome to History 301, special subjects: Jack the Ripper.”

  Teagan looked at the shocked faces of the students in front of her. She had their rapt attention, which was a new thing for her. In her previous courses, she’d watched students typing away on laptops or smartphones, not taking notes but instead exploring the vast interwebs and putting selfies on social media. Teagan knew this class would be different. The students were actually interested. The subject matter was more intriguing than even she had thought it would be. The house was full and the students engaged—every teacher’s dream.

  “This case is complex, and there have been many books, both fiction and nonfiction, written about it. There are suspicions that Jack was a member of the royal family, a painter, or a butcher. His true identity is lost to history, but in this course, we will discuss the different murders attributed to him, the so-called ‘canonical five’, and how this, the world’s first known serial killer, shaped the history of policing.

  “Today we will go over a brief history of the cases, and in subsequent lectures we will go over each in detail. Your final in this course will be to use the information learned throughout the semester and the in-class readings to come up with a theory of who the real Jack the Ripper was from the long list of potential candidates. Shall we begin?”

  The students nodded, their eyes glued to the gruesome scene splashed on the screen.

  “We will start with this, the first of the canonical five. These five murders are definitively attributed to the Ripper, and there is debate that other murders that happened before and after these five might have also been his work.

  “The first victim was Mary Ann Nichol
s, known as ‘Polly’, killed August 31st, 1888.” The autopsy photo flashed onto the screen. “Found with her throat slashed all the way to the vertebrae, cuts to her abdomen, and her intestines exposed.

  “Annie Chapman, the second victim”—a picture of Annie at the murder scene showed on the screen—” found September 8th, 1888. Her throat was also cut twice, and she also had cuts to her abdomen. This time, the Ripper took a trophy: Annie’s uterus.

  “Elizabeth Stride, the third victim, found September 27th, 1888. This was the only witnessed crime. The Ripper did not finish his crime, and Elizabeth only bore the telltale neck wounds.

  “Catherine Eddows, the fourth victim, killed the same night as Elizabeth Stride, the most savage killing so far. Her intestines were removed and placed on her shoulder, her body butchered. Her uterus was removed, as was a kidney. There is speculation that this murder was so violent due to the Ripper’s frustration at being interrupted during the previous murder.

  “The fifth and final member of the canonical five was Mary Kelly, found November 9th, 1888. Mary Kelly was the only victim killed inside, in an apartment she rented. She was mutilated with pieces of her flesh strewn around the room and her clothing burned in her fireplace.

  “After this murder, the spree stopped. There are many theories for why it did, including that the Ripper moved, died, or was imprisoned.”

  Teagan was filled with satisfaction at being able to hold the class’ attention, the quiet concentration of the room fueling her excitement. The only sounds throughout the lecture were the clicking of the remote as pictures of different women passed by on the screen, the subtle sound of scratching pens, and the tapping of clicking keys.

  Teagan dismissed the class after giving the first writing assignment, and the excited chatter of the students started up again. Several stopped to tell her how much they had enjoyed the lecture.

  When the last student left, and the door swung shut for the final time, she let out the breath she had not realized she was holding and pressed her hand to her quickly beating heart.

  “Now that is an expression I could get used to seeing. You are beaming Teagan.” A striking blonde woman in an above-the-knee grey sheath dress with knee-high red Louboutin boots waltzed into the classroom.

  “Ovidia, you startled me. I didn’t see you come in. I should be beaming—my lecture was a success, the class was full, and I had several students say they’re looking forward to the next lecture.” Teagan smiled at her old friend, the passion for her subject coming through in her voice.

  “You are a great teacher so I am not surprised, and you do like the odd and gruesome side of history.”

  “It is a little odd, but I find it so fascinating. I wish there was a way to go back in time and research in real time, find out who he was.”

  “If only, but alas there is not. Even so, we are celebrating your successful lecture tonight with drinks.”

  “I’m in. How does 7 sound? Usual place?”

  “Yep.”

  Teagan sighed and gathered her things, and as she did, her stomach growled.

  “I have to be off, see you for drinks later,” Ovidia said as she began walking to the door.

  “Sure, sounds good,” Teagan said.

  “Okay, get your party shoes on Teag,” Ovidia said with a smirk. “I will send a car for you, and then you can come and get me.” Ovidia waved over her shoulder as she walked out of the lecture hall, on her way to teach one of her own courses on Nordic history and legends.

  Teagan took a quick glance at her watch—she had just enough time to eat in her favorite spot before her next lecture, History 101. It wasn’t going to be nearly as exciting as the previous lecture, but it was the bread and butter that paid her salary and allowed her the luxury of doing the special courses. Teaching the courses that the other professors did not want had been a sneaky ploy to get the dean to allow her to teach the specialized courses, and it had worked.

  She grabbed her lunch, a smile spreading across her face as she skipped down the stairs to her favorite lunch spot on campus. Purple, flowering trees wound around an outside gazebo, and it was no longer obvious where the structure ended and the trees began. The passage of time had twisted the two together until they were so entwined, they were one.

  Teagan sat on the rough wooden bench under the gazebo to see the garden filled with tulips, their candy-colored heads nodding in the breeze.

  Teagan sighed, the elation from the success of her course already fading away. Why can’t I be happy? She loved her job, and teaching about the abnormal history of killers and odd disappearances thrilled her. But, like always, the thrill only lasted for a short time and then the emptiness set in. She had always felt this way, as if a piece of her was missing, as if she was meant for something different, like there was a bright shiny coin just out of her reach. Something niggled at the back of her brain, a half-remembered scene: glass, a tinkling sound, the low rough laughter of her grandfather. As always, as she tried to reach for it, the tantalizing bit of memory—or whatever it was—slipped away, and it left her bereft.

  Enough with the self-pity! she thought to herself, digging into the cold pasta-salad she had brought. Teagan willed the melancholy away, focusing on the beautiful spring day, on sitting in her favorite spot. She finished her food, feeling steadier as the soothing presence of that place she loved seeped into her, chasing away the gloom that danced just at the edges, always.

  The rest of the day passed without incident. The students who had stopped to tell her how much they enjoyed the Ripper class made the boring 101 class worth it.

  Teagan dug her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door of her apartment. Setting her bag on the counter, she reached into the drawer for her takeout menus. It was a good night for pizza.

  As she perused her choices, a buzzing came from her pocket. She answered, “Hey Mom.”

  “Teagan, how was your first day teaching your Jack the Ripper course?”

  “It was amazing! The students were so into it, and you know how much I love that subject,” Teagan responded as she opened her laptop to place her pizza order.

  “That is lovely honey, I am so glad it went well. I am calling because your father and I have an offer for you: we are talking about taking a trip to London in a few months and wondered if you would like to join us?”

  “I’m not sure—I have work, and I was thinking of teaching summer courses this year.”

  “What if it was to be a work trip?”

  “A work trip to London? For what?”

  “Your grandfather has been working on a new display about the Victorian era for the British Museum, and he wanted to include a section on the Ripper murders. While going through the archives, he opened a box of old ledgers and found something strange.” Her mother paused, and Teagan laughed; her mother always liked a dramatic effect.

  “What was it Mom?”

  “A journal written by Jack the Ripper.”

  “What! An original journal? And he found it?”

  “He thought it would intrigue you and mentioned that it might help persuade you to take the time off and join us on the trip.”

  “I will have to discuss it with the dean, see if I can get a working sabbatical for next semester, and an unseen Ripper journal may be just the thing to convince him. It will have to wait until the end of this semester, which has just started,” she added.

  “Yes dear, we will wait until the end of semester, but can you talk with the dean soon? I need to finalize our travel plans.”

  “Sure, I will schedule a meeting and discuss it with him tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Well I have to run—your father and I are going to the theater tonight, and I must go get ready. Join us for dinner tomorrow night? We can make travel plans if your dean is amenable to letting you take the sabbatical.”

  “Sounds great Mom, see you tomorrow. Give my love to Dad.”

  “I will darling, take care of yourself. I will make sure Maria makes your favorite chi
cken saltimbocca for tomorrow.”

  “Bye Mom.”

  “Bonus chicken saltimbocca!” Teagan said out loud to the empty room. She had always wanted to return to London, where she was born, and the chance to see an original, never-before-seen Ripper journal was an opportunity she could not pass up.

  Tonight’s supper was sadly not the amazing chicken dish she would enjoy at her parents’ house the following evening, though the pizza was a close second.

  Teagan changed into comfortable clothes and poured a glass of red wine. At the sound of the doorbell, she opened the door and absently smiled at the pizza delivery man. His hand brushed hers as he handed her the pizza box and a fissure of alarm shivered down her spine. His eyes were boring into hers as if he was trying to see through her. She tipped him and thanked him, quickly shutting and locking her door. Shaking her head, she tried to ignore the odd way he had looked at her. Putting the incident to the back of her mind, she pulled a couple of slices out of the box and grabbed her wine, taking to her favorite chair in front of the old fireplace. She slipped the first bite into her mouth, groaning at the spicy, cheesy mouthful.

  Teagan found herself almost hypnotized by the flames as she enjoyed the quiet of her apartment while sipping her wine and eating her supper.

  Be careful what you wish for, she thought. She had thought about how she needed a little adventure in her life at lunch, and it looked as if she may just get it. She had never visited England, despite it being the homeland of her mother. Her father was from Ireland, and their countries of origin could be heard in their voices. Many a night, Teagan had lain awake in bed listening to the murmured conversations of her parents, their musical voices lulling her to sleep. To this day, the sound of an English or Irish accent never failed to soothe her.

  A glance at her watch reminded her of drinks with Ovidia. Finishing the last of the wine and one last nibble of pizza, she was off to her closet to find something suitable to wear. The classy upscale wine bar they frequented was not one where her current outfit of Lula Roe leggings and a Duke sweatshirt would work.