Chapter Text
Lucy Carlyle was going to die, she was sure of it.
She’d lost her rapier in the middle of a wood, fighting a wraith. The wraith's source was secured and in the hands of her supervisor, Quill Kipps, who was waiting with the rest of the team besides the road. It should have been safe enough for her to go back into the woods alone to hunt for her dropped weapon amongst the ferns.
But then the relic-men had shown up. There was a pack of four of them, amateurs Lucy supposed. Most experienced relic-men worked solo because they'd been around long enough to inevitably betray their partner.
The men cackled amongst themselves as they looked around for anything of value. Each of the four was heavily armed, pistols strapped menacingly to their sides even as they moved about with daggers drawn.
Lucy was ducked into the undergrowth, chest tight as she tried to suck in quiet, shallow breaths. She curled her knees up to her chest, mind racing.
Should she run? It would be a risk. It would mean breaking cover and Lucy was sure there was no way she was escaping the men without being spotted. But she knew her hiding place had barely concealed her and if they found her cowering there she would be trapped, back pressed up against rough bark, still unarmed.
She had to run. It was her only option. Lucy waited, letting the men move a few metres away. And then she was on her feet and running. She felt the tangled undergrowth grabbing at her legs, twisting her ankles, trying to trip her. Shouts sounded from behind. The relic-men gave chase.
Lucy yelped as a gunshot exploded into the air. She ducked away as splinters flew from the side of a nearby tree.
And then the ground seemed to give away beneath her feet. Lucy realised she had stumbled across a ditch. Her hands impacted hard against the ground, pain shooting through her. Leaves and ferns slammed against her face, blinding her. Brambles scraped her cheeks.
Lucy rolled over, heart hammering as she stared down the relic-men looming above her. There were sneers on their faces.
Lucy was chilled to the bone by the fact none of them wore masks. They were all aware of the fact that Lucy could now ID them and it left Lucy sure Kipps and the others were going to find her the next day with her throat slit.
“What do we do with her?” one of the men asked.
“Let her go.”
The voice did not come from any of the men. For a moment Lucy thought she might have imagined it, or stumbled across some other source.
But then the men looked, their eyes tracking upwards. One of them drew his pistol.
“Lockwood, we heard you’d been sulking about in these forests,” one of the men announced.
“I was bored,” the new voice replied. “Thought I would come looking for trouble.”
Lucy twisted the best she could with the men standing over her. She peered through the trees and the patchy moonlight, seeing a figure was standing a metre away. He gripped a rapier in gloved hands, a long black coat flapping around him. His face was completely covered: dark fabric pulled up to cover his mouth and nose; a hood attached to his greatcoat pulled over the top half of his face; eyes obscured behind tinted goggles.
There was an eerie calmness in his voice as he spoke: “You’re here to steal sources, not lives. Let the girl go.”
“Let’s just kill them both!” one of the relic-men shouted.
He levelled his pistol at Lucy. She couldn’t keep herself from crying out in panic. She tried to scramble away, hands grabbing clumps of dirt in her desperation.
There was the rustling of material and a flash of something. For a moment Lucy thought another visitor had appeared, the light had been so sudden, so overwhelming.
She realised a second later it was moonlight glinting on a rapier blade.
The pistol levelled at her fell away as the man howled in pain. He covered his wrist, as blood began to leak out between his fingers.
“That was a warning,” Lockwood said, “I will not be so kind next time.”
The men looked between each other. Each was armed, each was more muscular than Lockwood. But he was such a commanding figure, moved so deliberately, so firmly. He slipped himself between Lucy and the men, his coat blocking her from their view.
Still, Lucy could hear footsteps, the men beginning to move away.
“He’s just a kid!” one of them spluttered. “Gut him!”
There was a scream of rage. Lucy watched as Lockwood twisted. A dagger cut through the fabric of his coat sleeve but he ignored it, using the handle of his rapier to force the dagger from the hand of his attacker. Horrified, the attacker reacted. He swung his fist, managing to shatter the left lens of the goggles. Still, Lockwood didn’t stop. He twisted, looking like he and his attacker were engaged in a complex dance. And then he was drawing the man’s pistol from where it was strapped. And then he was dancing away, gripping his rapier in one hand and the man’s pistol in the other. He levelled it at the man and Lucy realised it was just the one relic-man who remained. The others had fled off into the trees.
The final man gave a nervous laugh.
“You’re not going to use that.”
“Why do you think that?” Lockwood asked, coldly. “You wanted to kill her. You wanted to gut me. I am not in a very forgiving mood.”
A beat passed. And then the final man was sprinting off into the darkness. Lucy felt a ball of nerves form in her stomach as she realised that left her alone with Lockwood. She battled to her feet, wondering if she should run.
But something held her in place. She didn’t feel like she could just turn and run. He had saved her life. It felt rude to just sprint away from him while his back was turned.
She could sense waves of smug triumph rising off him as he slotted the pistol into the waistband of his trousers. Then he turned, his coat flying dramatically.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No,” Lucy said. “I mean yes. Physically. But no. I’m not okay.”
“Relic-men,” Lockwood said in disgust, as if he wasn’t a relic-man himself. “I’d say they are a disgrace to the profession but the majority of my colleagues are just like them. Shouldn’t be though. Just because we deal with the dead doesn’t mean we need to add more to that category.”
All Lucy could do was nod warily. She watched as Lockwood scanned the undergrowth, using his rapier to knock about the plants.
“Any clue where you dropped your rapier?” he asked. “I take it you’ve got one given that you’re from Fittes.”
“I dropped it while fighting the ghost from before. I came out here to look for it,” Lucy answered.
Lockwood looked straight at her. Lucy was sure that, if he wasn’t wearing the goggles, she would have been able to see him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Seeing the shattered left lens of the goggles, Lucy found herself unable to keep herself from asking if he was okay. He almost seemed confused for a moment as to why the question would come up but then he realised. Turning away, he tugged off his goggles. Lucy saw his hood fall back, briefly caught a glimpse of dark hair. And then it was gone, the hood returned to place, the goggles studied slowly. Lucy couldn’t stop herself from circling around the young man. For all she knew, Lockwood could have gotten glass in his eye. It felt wrong for her to abandon him to walk through the forest by himself if he was half blind. He would be easy prey for the men who had attacked her.
“Let me have a look,” Lucy instructed.
The young man paused. He was gingerly touching the skin around his eye with a gloved hand, trying to assess the damage.
“Come on,” Lucy said. “I can hardly see your face even without the goggles.”
Lockwood hesitated. Then he slowly turned to her. The sight of his eyes startled Lucy. They were so deep and pure and powerful. Lucy felt her mind go blank at the sight of them. They were all she could think of, all she could comprehend.
“You’re a seer,” she managed.
Only seers had eyes like that and even then most were pale in comparison to Lockwood’s. Lucy felt like she could stare at his eyes all day.
“Yes. Which is the only reason I’m letting you look. Me being blinded by some second-rate relic-man is the last thing I need.”
Lockwood’s words reminded Lucy she was staring into his eyes with a purpose. She nodded to herself like she knew what she was doing.
“No glass,” she proclaimed. “You were lucky.”
“So were you,” Lockwood told her.
He eyed his goggles for a moment, checking the damage. Then, he sighed disappointedly and slipped them into his pocket. Lucy had to admit she was glad he didn’t hide his eyes away again. She was rather enjoying looking at them.
“So Kipps sending agents out into the forests alone now? It’s like he wants to kill off his team,” Lockwood remarked.
The question seemed to come from nowhere and caught Lucy off guard.
“You know Kipps?” Lucy spluttered.
“Know is a strong word,” Lockwood replied. “I find that his incompetencies mean that I generally can have an easy night of it and I recently had a brush with some nastier relic-men than you friends so was hoping to be able to see what Quill Kipps had dug up for me to steal.”
Lucy studied him, realising all he had said was genuine. Then she shook her head in disbelief.
“Well, I don’t have the source,” she told him. “It’s back with the others.”
“I take it that’s where you’re going to be heading,” Lockwood said.
Lucy hummed her agreement and turned on her heel. She began to stomp through the undergrowth, deciding her rapier was not worth dying for. When she got back to the Fittes Headquarters, she would put in a claim for a new rapier.
Another new rapier.
Oh man, this one was coming out of her wages for sure.
Rustling through the undergrowth stole her attention. Lucy looked over her shoulder to see Lockwood was following behind her. Her brow furrowed as she came to a stop.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re unarmed in a forest in the middle of the night. I’m checking you making it back to your friends safely.”
“It’s not like there are any sources about. Me, Kipps and the others took care of it.”
Lockwood scoffed.
“Your faith in Kipps astounds me,” Lockwood told her.
Lucy glowered at him. Then she rolled her eyes. She continued on.
“If you come back with me, they’re going to arrest you. Or do you not realise that relic-hunting is illegal?”
“Don’t worry, I know,” Lockwood told her. “But I would argue that it is equally immoral, if not illegal, to allow an unarmed young woman to get ghost-touched or otherwise killed to save my own skin.”
Lucy sighed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to convince Lockwood to leave her alone. But, if she was being honest with herself, she rather liked his presence. There was something comforting about his calmness, reassuring about the way he could watch her back.
They walked in companionable silence for long minutes, Lucy glancing back at Lockwood every so often. She told herself it was to check he was there, that he hadn’t been attacked by some new ghost or snatched away by the relic-men he had scared off before but a small voice told her it was because she was hoping she would get a chance to see his eyes again, perhaps see more of his face.
She tried to push those feelings away. She was a Fittes agent. He was a relic-man. Just because he had been decent to her didn’t mean he wasn’t a criminal. And while DEPRAC might be willing to not tear the forest apart searching for him if she did admit a relic-man had saved her - a thank you for not leaving her to die - they weren’t going to forgive Lockwood what Lucy could only assume were numerous crimes.
“We’re almost at the meeting point,” Lucy eventually found herself forced to warn him.
“Then I wish you luck… I never got your name,” he admitted.
“Lucy. Lucy Carlyle,” Lucy found herself introducing.
“Good luck, Miss Carlyle.”
And then he was gone, racing off into the darkness of the night.
Predictably, Lucy was summoned to the DEPRAC offices first thing that morning. They had her statement from the night before, of course, but she knew they’d want her to speak directly with one of the inspectors. She was glad to see it was Inspector Barnes. She had worked alongside him a few times in the past and while he made it very clear he was not happy about the fact that he had to work with such young agents, his standpoint came from caring about them rather than thinking they were immature.
He welcomed Lucy into his office, face grim.
“I heard you were attacked by relic-men,” Barnes said.
“Yes. I gave my statement last night,” Lucy said.
“Well, we have a photo lineup for you and something we would like to discuss.”
Lucy nodded. She sat opposite Barnes, seeing that he had three folders off to one side of his desk, the fourth resting in the centre.
He opened up the middle folder for Lucy, showing her pages of photographs.
“Could you pick out any of the relic-men from here, please?”
Lucy scanned the pages. All were pictures of men, most of them looking pretty similar. Still, Lucy was able to find three she was sure she had seen the night before. She’d got a pretty good look at them as they had loomed over her, their faces seared into her mind. If not for Lockwood, she was sure she could be dead.
Barnes tried to keep his face stoic but Lucy could tell from the look in his eyes that she had picked out the suspects they had. He calmly slipped the folder away, placing it on the side behind him. Then he shuffled the three remaining folders to the centre of the table.
“And what can you tell me about the other one?” Barnes asked. “The one who saved you?”
Lucy paused. The young man had saved her life after all. It felt rude to turn on him and see him out to a man like Barnes, one who would no doubt be more than eager to arrest him.
"Miss Carlyle, I am aware he might have saved your life but he is still a relic-man. Even if you do not believe that he would intentionally take a life, he is a part of an industry that actively works against regulations to help control sources and relics, an industry that gets hundreds of people, if not thousands, killed each year. And that number does not include the countless relic-men who are killed by visitors or by other relic-men. Us arresting your saviour would be the best for everyone."
It was a pitch Lucy was not inclined to believe. She got the feeling her saviour was not the sort of person who would necessarily make friends in a prison full of relic-men and getting him arrested felt like a truly terrible way to repay him.
But she also knew Barnes was expecting information from her. And he was right, Lockwood was a relic man. There was every chance it hadn't been about saving her at all, rather just messing with his enemies.
"He was my age, maybe a little older, but he was tall, skinny. He was good with a rapier. Maybe someone had trained him. And he didn’t speak like them."
"Posh?" Barnes questioned.
Lucy’s brow furrowed. Barnes seemed to know exactly who she was talking about.
"Do you know him?"
“You said they called him Lockwood?” Barnes said.
Lucy nodded.
“Didn’t seem to like him very much, either.”
Barnes sighed. He passed the first of the folders to Lucy who opened it up. The first page was a file, Lucy scanned it, seeing there was basic information for someone called Anthony John Lockwood. He was her age but the list of crimes he was connected too was longer than the number of cases Lucy had helped out on. Petty theft, fraud, unlawful imprisonment, carrying a rapier without a licence… Most of the counts were for handling relics and sources without proper legal permission. If he was to be found guilty of his numerous crimes, he was going to be looking at more than twenty years in prison.
“He’s got the sight,” Lucy mused.
Barnes hummed his agreement, saying that there was a general belief he would have made a fine agent if he’d not switched sides.
Then Lucy noticed something was missing.
“There’s no picture,” Lucy frowned.
Barnes reached over, turning the page. Lucy was created with a sketch of a handsome young man with dark hair.
“Eight years ago, a Daniel Lockwood was ghost-touched. He had been raising his niece and nephew, Jessica and Anthony Lockwood, at the time. Jessica was fifteen. Anthony was nine. They were brought in by DEPRAC but fled when they overheard some agents discussing how no care home would take them both. They’ve been in the wind ever since, making quite a name for themselves as relic-men. This is an artist’s rendition of what Anthony Lockwood might look like now.”
Lucy studied the drawing, shaking her head. She couldn’t comment on the rest of the face but his eyes were wrong. They weren’t intense enough, weren’t deep enough. Barnes asked what was wrong but Lucy couldn’t speak. It felt like such a silly thing to say out loud.
Closing the file, Lucy nodded to the others Barnes had brought out.
“Who are they for?”
“Lockwood’s usual associates. I suppose you might even class them as a gang.”
He pushed the two folders toward Lucy. The first was for Jessica Lockwood. Another extensive list of crimes although Lucy could not help but notice Jessica had no gift. The sketch of her was beautiful, the sort of girl who might easily have been a model.
"Although she has no talent, Jessica was old enough to have begun helping her parents with their research when they died. The late Mr and Mrs Lockwood were psychical researchers, specialising in sources and relics. Jessica appears to have weaponised what her parents taught her to ensure she can keep the criminal enterprise going."
The final folder did have a small photograph tucked into the top corner. Lucy immediately recognised it as a Fittes ID photo.
“George Karim,” Barnes remarked. “One of your lot before he stole a relic and ran. There are some who believe he was in contact with the Lockwoods before that. That he was helping the Lockwoods finish their parents' work."
"What work?" Lucy questioned.
"Trying to understand the source of the Problem. Rumours are that they are getting close too. But all I know is that Katim stole a very valuable and potentially dangerous source and took it to a pair of relic-men."
Barnes paused.
“I know you probably feel a sense of loyalty toward Lockwood but your team is going to be asked to look into possible ways to apprehend him and his friends.”
“What?” Lucy spluttered.
“Don’t think of it as Lockwood being arrested,” Barnes said. “He is a young man living an extremely dangerous life. Relic-men don’t live long. They are violent and cruel and they will just as easily kill each other as they would anyone else. The Lockwoods were lucky Jessica Lockwood didn’t end up dead in a gutter and Anthony forced into being a canary for some murderous monster like Julius Winkman within the first week they ran away. Their luck is going to run out and the only thing I can do to protect them is have them locked up where they can’t make stupid decisions.”
Lucy had tried to protest. She had tried to tell them that she wasn’t going to help them track down and arrested the Lockwoods or their friend. But her protests had fallen on deaf ears and soon Kipps had been pushing a piece of paper into her hands.
“He’s right,” Kipps said. “One day their luck is going to run out and one of them is going to get seriously hurt.”
And Barnes was right. One day Lockwood or his sister or that Karim boy were going to get hurt.
That was what Lucy had told herself as she had set out that morning. And she’d managed to mostly convince herself it was true.
After all Lockwood had been out alone. What if that man had managed to get glass in his eye? Would Lockwood have been able to grab that pistol? Would they both have been killed?
And what if a goggleless Lockwood stumbled across a relic that blinded him enough that he could be subdued? Or some ghost got the drop on him because he was out alone? It was best if Lockwood was in custody. Safer for him to be under DEPRAC’s control than allowed to run wild.
Lucy grimaced as she looked at her list. There were still plenty of dodgy dealers to check and each one was just as likely as the one before to have been buying relics off Anthony Lockwood and his associates. Lucy hated the idea of continuing to trudge around London, getting frozen out by slimy old men who made her skin crawl.
Still, Kipps would not be happy if she turned back, knowing that any of the remaining names on the list could have information on how to track down Anthony Lockwood.
The truth was, Lucy didn't believe Lockwood was selling relics to seedy dealers. It felt too… Predictable. And he certainly hadn't seemed to have much patience for the other people in his criminal industry the night before.
You're giving him too much credit, Lucy told herself.
She continued along, her eyes landing on a small red brick building. In fact, she felt drawn to it, like there was any number of sources inside, enough that the energy seeped out despite of safety precautions.
It looked like a house, unremarkable along the street. The only thing that made it stand out was the brass plaque outside that announced the building was 'The Society for the Researching of Sources and Relics'.
Lucy found herself beginning to walk toward it. Hadn't Barnes said the late Lockwood parents had been researchers in relics and sources? Maybe there were still people who knew of the family in the society, people who might be able to point Lucy toward a new direction in her hunt for the siblings.
The Society for the Researching of Sources and Relics had an understated doorway but a beautiful lobby. The very professional receptionist sat behind an ornately carved desk and smiled as Lucy as she edged across the white and black marble chequered floor.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.
“Afraid not,” Lucy said. “I’m with Fittes. I was wondering if I could meet with whoever is in charge of getting your relics and sources for study.”
“That would be Dr Murphy. He’s just had someone stop by to see him but if you want to wait outside his office, he’ll see you when he is free.”
Lucy thanked the woman and memorised the quickly listed off directions. Then she was making her way up the stairs and finding the third door down the hall. There were a few battered leather armchairs dotted along the corridor but Lucy didn’t feel like sitting. Rather she paced, trying to come up with what to say. With relic-men, she could be more than a little sharp to them. After all, they were criminals, they just didn’t have the evidence to shut their organisations down, but Dr Murphy was no doubt a respectable man. If he was buying sources off relic-men, he was probably doing it because he was desperate to learn more, desperate to find a way to fix the Problem that was willing more and more people each year.
One of Lucy’s trips up and down the corridor brought her near to the door to the doctor’s office, a brass plate on the front declaring his name.
Lucy was able to hear snatches of two voices. She stopped, debating whether or not she should listen in. Both of the voices were male. One voice was deep and jolly, each word coming out with a cheerful spring. The other was… familiar.
Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat as she realised where she had heard the voice before.
It was Lockwood. Anthony Lockwood was on the other side of the door. Clearly her instincts had been right. He was selling relics to research groups. It was probably why he was able to get away with it for so long.
“Is this the latest of your newsletters?” Lockwood asked.
“Yes. Yes. Of course, my lad,” the deeper voice, which Lucy presumed belonged to Dr Murphy himself, said. “Take a copy. Take two in fact. One for your sister and one for Mr Karim. Oh! And don’t you scarper off yet. I have the journal your sister wanted to look at somewhere. Honestly, if I had my way, all three of you would be pardoned and given all the research funding in the world. The way your sister annotated my last paper…”
Lucy moved, pressing her ear up against the door. She heard a series of clicks and a rustling of paper. And then she heard something being shut and latches clicking into place.
“You be careful now, mind. I don’t want to hear you’ve gotten yourself arrested or killed.”
“When am I not careful, doctor?” Lockwood returned.
“I believe it would be quicker to list the times you are careful,” Dr Murphy replied. “I always feel sick to my stomach sending you out on the streets with a briefcase of cash. I can barely sleep if I think of you out there fending off visitors with nothing more than a rapier.”
“I’ll see you soon, doctor,” Lockwood replied.
Lucy got the feeling it was a conversation that had been had many times. It struck her that the doctor seemed to genuinely care for the young man and his group. And he clearly knew about the illegal nature of the artefacts he was getting his hands on.
Lucy considered running to the phone. She could call DEPRAC, have them descend on the building. If she could keep Lockwood there, he would be caught with a briefcase of cash and stolen relics in the possession of a client upstairs.
He would be arrested, sent to prison.
Which was what was best for him, right? What he was doing was dangerous. He was going to get himself killed. It would be far better for him to end up locked up in prison until after his talent faded, left to live a normal, quiet life when he was released.
But Lucy stopped herself. Say she did get Lockwood arrested. What then? Jessica and George would disappear, continue the crimes themselves. Clearly they were determined to keep their business going…
No, Lucy couldn’t ambush Lockwood in the building. She would have to follow him, back to his base, back to where his sister and George Karim were. Then she could have DEPRAC raid their base, take all their relics and take all three into custody.
Lucy made her decision. She dove into hiding behind one of the chair just as the door to Dr Murphy’s office opened. A figure emerged into the corridor. Lucy could immediately tell it was Lockwood from the briefcase he held. He was dressed in a smart suit, his tall frame and briefcase making it look like he might have been a young man interning at some investment firm in the city.
He glanced to and fro down the corridor, Lucy ducking further back into hiding.
Still, she saw his face. She felt a blush form across her cheeks as she realised he was handsome. His pale skin contrasted with his dark features, his looks sharp and refined. With his suit, perfectly tailored to him (and who on earth was tailoring clothes for a relic-man) he looked like he might have been the male lead in some historical romance film. The sketch the forensic artist created had done nothing to prepare her for what he truly looked like.
Why can’t criminals look like they’ve had their faces fed through a mincer? Lucy lamented. At the very least Lockwood, going around at night with his face covered, could have had the decency to be horrifically scarred. But, no, he had to look like he could be the cover model for some posh fashion magazine.
Lucy was still silently cursing him for his dashing looks as she followed him out of the building.
Lucy kept her distance behind Lockwood, trying to ensure she never caught his attention. It wasn’t hard. His mind seemed to be a million miles away, turning over something complex.
Lucy herself found her mind crowded with thoughts about Lockwood’s boldness. He was out in the middle of the day, striding around London like he owned the entire city, clutching a briefcase full of money from an illegal relic deal. He didn’t seem to care at all as he passed within two metres of a DEPRAC van, nor did he bother changing course to avoid walking straight through a crowd of Rotwell agents.
Eventually Lockwood led Lucy to an old factory, fenced off with a ring of iron. Most of the businesses near to it were closed up, notices saying they had moved premises. People did that when faced with a haunting no one could seem to budge. She got the feeling that was true of the factory.
An even bolder move for Lockwood and his friends to set up a base there.
And then it became pretty obvious they had. Lockwood moved across the weed punctured forecourt like he had been there a million times, opening the front door easily. It clearly hadn’t rusted itself shut through years of misuse. Lucy slipped through the iron ring herself, crossing the forecourt as fast as she could. She edged through the front door, frowning as she stepped inside.
Immediately she got the sense that the place felt wrong. Haunted buildings had a certain feel about them. She knew not everyone, not even all agents, were sensitive enough to notice but she was. She always got the feeling that something felt off, like there was an energy in the air. It was like she could feel a storm was brewing. And a place like the factory, where so many precautions had been taken to keep the ghosts at bay… her skin should be crawling.
A conclusion quickly came to mind. Lockwood, his sister and George must have cleared out the visitor and simply not told anyone. It gave them the perfect place to squat. Any and all strange activity would be put down to visitors and people would be wary of investigating if they ever did grow suspicious.
Lucy felt relief sweep over her but tried to force it back. Just because the visitor defences might be for decoration, she couldn't let her guard down. Lockwood was a relic-man. He might have been willing to save her life in the forest but she had no idea how he or his companions would react when cornered.
Lucy crept after him, clinging to the shadows. She felt a little like a visitor herself, some sort of type one who just lurked about in the gloom. Viewing herself as a visitor somehow felt a lot less creepy than seeing herself as a stalker.
The sound of voices from up ahead eventually caught Lucy’s attention. She was able to see a change in Lockwood. He seemed to pay more attention, a spring forming in his step as he quickened his pace. Soon he was slipping through a door that bore a dirty sign that Lucy believed had once read 'break room'.
"There you are," she heard a female voice call. "I was just about to send out a search party."
"Your lack of faith offends me, Jess," Lockwood replied.
Lucy dared to approach the door. It was left ajar, the warped hinges stopping it from fully closing. She knelt beside it, peering into the room beyond.
The sophistication of the set up startled her. It looked like an office, tables set out and piled high with papers and books. A small fireplace had been constructed out of metal lockers, an iron kettle heating up over some hot coals. Bags of supplies were dumped in one corner, chains hanging from the ceiling so they could be easily grabbed. An old set of pigeon holes was now being used to store various rapiers.
Two people were in the room besides Lockwood. One Lucy recognised as George Karim. He was hunched over a book, furiously scribbling out notes. The other was a truly beautiful young woman in her early twenties, examining a ring trapped inside a silver-glass box. She had dark hair to match Lockwood’s and the same pale skin. She had a rapier scar on her forehead above her left eye, a short, sharp white line that infuriatingly only made her look more attractive. Just like her brother, the artist's interpretation of Jessica Lockwood did not do her justice. Lucy resolved that she didn't like this Jessica very much.
“Dr Murphy sends his love and newsletters,” Lockwood proclaimed.
Lucy watched as he put the briefcase down on the side and opened it. Resting on the top were the journal and two newsletters. Underneath were tightly packed rows of cash.
“He’s always so generous, isn’t he?” Lockwood remarked.
Abandoning her ring, Jessica moved to his side, picking up the journal and one of the newsletters.
“I’m more concerned with helping the work he is doing,” she said.
She stopped, studying her brother closely. In a quieter voice, she told him he should get some rest.
“You’ve barely stopped since you left to go and see if Quill Kipps’ team had turned up anything interesting. Everything alright?”
“He met a girl,” George said.
Lockwood and Jessica turned sharply. Lucy couldn’t stop herself from shifting as she realised George was referring to her. Still, she battled to keep herself from making a single noise.
“I just saw the report. Apparently some relic men attacked a Fittes agent last night, a Lucy Carlyle, and she was saved by Lockwood. Now DEPRAC are after him.”
“It’s very ungrateful of them really,” Lockwood remarked as Jessica turned to him, fuming.
“You told me nothing happened last night,” she said.
“I said nothing important happened.”
“You were attacked!” Jessica returned, exasperated. “DEPRAC are after you!”
“You never would have let me go and see Dr Murphy if you had known.”
“You're absolutely right I wouldn’t have. How am I meant to keep you safe if you keep stuff like this from me? Don’t you have anything between those ears of yours?”
Lockwood looked away, suitably chided. Jessica sighed, suddenly sounding very, very tired. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You can’t keep doing this, Anthony. I mean it when I say I can’t protect you when I don’t know what’s going on with you.”
Lockwood caught his sister’s arm, guiding her hand down so he could look into her eyes.
“You don’t need to protect me, Jess. I’m not a little kid any more.”
“You’re still my little brother.”
Suppressing a chuckle, Lockwood looked between his own tall frame and the sister he towered off.
"I'm not that little any more," he quipped.
Jessica shook her head in fond exasperation. She patted her brother on the cheek.
"Not too tall that I can't drag you to your bedroom by your ear. Go. Get some sleep."
Lockwood let out a dramatic sigh and glanced toward George.
“Don’t look at me. She’s in charge,” George said.
“Bed,” Jessica insisted. “DEPRAC aren’t going to be happy if you’re grouchy when they arrest you.”
Lockwood chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Still, he moved toward the door. Lucy gasped, realising she had no clue where she could hide because she wasn’t sure what direction Lockwood’s room lay in. She looked around, trying to find somewhere she could hide, aware of Lockwood’s footsteps moving closer and closer to the door.
“Hey, uh… This Lucy Carlye: she pretty?” Jessica teased.
Lucy froze. She hated herself for how desperate she was to hear his answer. But she couldn’t force herself to move.
“What do you think I am, Jess? A scandalous gossip?” Lockwood replied.
Disappointment swept through Lucy. And then she heard the door opening. She turned sharply, seeing Lockwood standing in the doorway staring at her. He seemed momentarily shocked to see her but soon his features were melting into a look of cool confidence.
“Miss,” he said in an accent that definitely was not the one he had been using moments before, “you can’t be here. This place is on lock down due to a visitation and-”
“Lockwood,” Lucy choked out.
Lockwood grimaced.
Jessica and George appeared in the doorway. Frowns crossed their faces.
“Lockwood, I didn’t think even you were reckless enough to invite a girl back to our secret base,” George sighed.
“You can’t keep me here forever,” Lucy scowled.
“Trust me, we aren’t planning on it,” George told her.
Lucy had seen no point in running. She knew she had been cornered the moment Lockwood had spotted her. And the truth was that they hadn’t hurt her. They’d merely escorted her to a messily constructed iron cage full of sources in silver-glass containers. There was a chair in one corner, a paper sign above it reading ‘naughty corner’ and she’d been sat in it, wrists handcuffed around the bars of the cage. All the sources had been moved out of her reach and Jessica had promptly left, saying she was going to start packing up the base.
“We just need time to clear out of here,” Lockwood said. “Can’t have you bringing DEPRAC while we’re still relocating.”
He and George were standing outside the cage, watching her. Lucy glared daggers at them.
“Running away, you mean?” Lucy challenged.
Maybe if she could get a rise out of them, draw them into a fight, she might be able to convince them to uncuff her. And then… Well, Lucy wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do but it was going to be good. She would make sure of it.
“A strategic retreat,” Lockwood corrected.
“Look, we’re not going to let you leave until we’re safely away so it’s in your best interest to not try to taunt us into staying any longer than we have to,” George informed her. “I don’t like moving and I would be more than happy to stay here and inconvenience Fittes by keeping you locked up. Be like having a pet goldfish.”
Lucy arched a furious eyebrow.
“A goldfish?”
George was saved from a savage tongue lashing by the arrival of Jessica. She leant into the room, looking between the two boys.
“Are you two planning on helping me or do I need to move this entire base out myself?” Jessica asked.
“But you’re doing such a good job,” George replied dryly.
Jessica glowered at him halfheartedly even as George moved out of the room. Lockwood lingered a moment more, his eyes catching on Lucy. Then he unlocked the cage door. He stepped inside, carefully to keep out of kicking distance. Grabbing a gym bag out of the corner of the room, he began to stash sources away inside, ensuring they were neatly packed and not in danger of knocking against each other. Jessica watched him work for a few seconds before turning to go.
“Be careful around her,” she instructed.
Lockwood assured her he would, watching as his sister left the room. And then, suddenly, they were alone.
“We are going to let you go as soon as it’s safe, Lucy,” Lockwood said. “I promise. But we can’t be arrested. There’s a lot more going on here than you know.”
He fell silent for a long moment. Lucy arched an eyebrow expectantly.
“Are you going to tell me or…?”
“It’s better if you don’t know,” Lockwood said. “Safer. For us and for you.”
Lucy frowned, asking what Lockwood was so afraid of. He looked toward her and for a second she was sure she was going to get an answer. But then he stopped himself.
“It really is better if you don’t know,” he told her.
And then he was gone, leaving the cage door open behind him. Lucy stared after him for a second. Then she turned to look around the cage. The three had a very impressive collection of sources and relics, each one securely stored. There were fingers in small silver-glass boxes and a pair of shoes in a far larger one. The closest to Lucy was an impressive looking skull in an equally impressive looking silver-glass jar with all sorts of values on the top. Their operation was clearly far more sophisticated than anyone realised.
And if she didn’t get out of their cage soon, she was going to lose them. The three of them would disappear off to some new base where they would be able to continue their work. And Lucy feared that was going to get them all killed. Because the three were decent. Far too decent to be relic men. Either they were going to end up getting killed by their more ruthless colleagues or they were going to have to lose that decency for the sake of surviving. Either would be a tragedy.
Squirming against her handcuffs quickly confirmed to Lucy that she wasn’t getting out of them without help. Which meant she was going to have to force their hand somehow. Given how Lockwood, reckless as he was, had thought better of moving into her reach, Lucy guessed there was no way she was going to be able to take a hostage. Nor was she happy with the prospect.
But she needed to force their hand somehow. She looked toward the skull. Maybe if she could bring that within reach, she could threaten to smash the glass, release the ghost if they didn’t let her loose. It was by no means the ideal solution but it was an option.
Lucy strained as much as she could against the cuffs, swiping out toward the leg of the table the skull was on. It was old furniture. She was sure, if she put enough force behind one of her kicks, she would be able to break the leg, send the skull sliding down the table toward her.
Lucy grinned triumphantly as her foot slammed into the table leg. She glanced toward the doorway to the room as she kept kicking, feeling the wood begin to splinter. And then it snapped. The table lurched to the side. Lucy heard a grinding noise as the silver-glass jar skidded along the table.
A sudden panic gripped Lucy. What if the jar smashed as it fell to the ground? Then she would be trapped in a cage with a ghost. Was it dark outside? It couldn’t be night, right? Unless of course it was and she had just set in motion a death by ghost-touch.
Lucy twisted, desperately holding out her legs in the hope she would be able to cushion the jar as it fell. She felt it impact on her shins and bounce off, one of the valves catching her foot at an odd angle and twisting.
But it landed without the sound of glass shattering. Lucy stared, looking for even the slightest crack. She listened as intensely as she could, using her abilities to try to sense even the slightest sign that the ghost might have a way of escaping.
It all seemed fine.
Lucy carefully pulled the jar closer with her foot.
She’d threaten to smash it, get her handcuffs freed and then force one of them to take her place. They’d not want to abandon one of their own and it would give Lucy time to run to a phone, get DEPRAC to come by and round up the three.
Lucy?
The voice sent chills down Lucy’s spine. She looked around, confused, trying to work out who had spoken.
Lucy?
Lucy’s eyes turned down to the skull at her feet. A face made of green swirling light had formed within the jar, staring back at her.
“You know my name?” she managed.
It was wrong. It was so wrong. Ghosts didn’t do that. They didn’t speak to people. It had to just be coincidence. It wasn’t like she was the only Lucy on the planet. Maybe the skull had had a crush on some other girl called Lucy in life?
The Lockwood boy used it.
All hope that it was just coincidence flew out of the window. Lucy felt a terrible pain forming in her head. It was like a bubble of pressure was growing, threatening to pop at any second.
“But you can’t know my name! You can’t be talking to me!”
And yet I am.
“You’re a type three!” Lucy gasped. “No. You can’t… This is all wrong.”
They know things. The Lockwoods. The boy Karim. They know secrets. Dangerous secrets.
The skull’s voice was rapid and desperate. Lucy felt as cold as ice as she listened.
“No. No. This can’t be happening,” was all Lucy could say.
She felt the bubble of pressure burst. Her vision began to swim, the edges darkening. And then Lucy slumped back in her seat.
Lucy woke up lying on a simple bed with a metal frame. She realised she was still in the factory, the grey ceiling above her confirming that. Her memories came back slowly as she tried to sit up. Something clinked at her side, her arm not moving. Glancing down, Lucy realised she was handcuffed to the metal frame of the bed.
“You’re awake,” a soft voice said.
Lucy turned sharply, the metal of her handcuff clanking against the bed as she jumped. Anthony Lockwood was sitting against the wall across from her, knees curled up to his chest, gossip magazine on his lap. His full attention was on her, however. Lucy glowered at him, tugging at the handcuff.
“I’d take it easy if I were you. You’ve been unconscious for hours,” Lockwood told her.
“Yeah. Because you did something to me! Gave me some drug or…”
“We didn’t give you anything,” Lockwood assured her.
He got to his feet, putting his gossip magazine on the floor. Lucy realised that the bed she lay on was the only piece of furniture left in the room. But, looking around the room, she realised she was not in the relic lock-up she had been in before.
"You passed out," he said simply. "You've been out for fourteen hours. Everything’s been moved. We’re leaving as soon as we are sure you’re okay."
All Lucy could do was nod and even then she regretted it.
“Do you know what happened?” Lockwood asked.
His voice was tight with a genuine concern. Lucy would have glowered at him if she had sensed even a hint of mockery. Instead, she found herself desperate to find some way to reassure him. Still, her memories felt thick and syrupy. She tried to get them to flow but she felt like she was wrestling against them.
“I uh… I was… I knocked the skull off the table and-”
“Why?” Lockwood interrupted.
“I was going to threaten you guys. Make you let me go or else I would have smashed the glass.”
She expected anger from Lockwood but he chuckled approvingly.
“Bold move,” he congratulated.
“Well, it didn’t work out all that well… I…”
Lucy suddenly remembered the voice. Her eyes widened. She must have paled because suddenly Lockwood was approaching her, gently coaxing her to lay back down. She caught his arm, gripping it tightly, holding him close. She stared into his eyes intensely.
“Your skull is a type three. It spoke to me.”
“What? Lucy, that’s…”
There was movement behind Lockwood. Lucy watched as Jessica moved into the room.
“What did she say?” Jessica asked.
“She says that skull in the jar that George stole from Fittes… It’s a type three. And it spoke to her.”
Jessica’s jaw dropped. She studied Lucy closely.
“Our parents always thought there would be more than just Marissa,” Jessica said quietly. “It’s very rare but… There are lots of folktales of people talking to ghosts, having conversations with ghosts. It’s just a billion-to-one chance someone with the talent meets a type three.”
She stared, jaw dropping.
“Guess we know why Fittes were acting so weird about that skull. After all, that’s why George took it. He knew there was something odd about it.”
Jessica turned to her brother, catching his eye.
“The phone should still work. Call up George and warn him. He needs to know one of the sources he is unpacking is a type three.”
Lockwood paused, glancing between the two of them. And then he nodded. Jessica watched him go for a few moments before turning back to Lucy. Studying her closely, she folded her arms.
“You know you’ve just opened a whole can of worms, right?” Jessica questioned.
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.
The skull’s voice in the back of her mind whispered about the secrets the Lockwoods knew, the dark secrets they were keeping. Clearly they knew far more about ghosts than the average relic-man.
"Being able to talk to type threes is something you need to keep close to your chest. Tell no one. Not your team. Not your supervisor. No one. That is exactly the sort of thing people get killed over. The sort of thing people have been killed over."
Lucy frowned, asking if she shouldn't be trying to use her talent to help people.
“Not if you want to live,” Jessica told her.
“So those are my two options? Die or hide how powerful I actually am?”
“Or leave Fittes and join us," Jessica proposed.
The offer sprung from nowhere and Lucy was forced to bite back a choke. She stared at the young woman in shock.
"You want me to throw my life away and join you?"
"Fittes can't be trusted. It's a good place to work and relatively safe but you will be used and manipulated and hurt if you let them know what you can do. I can’t tell you the details but… You can’t trust Fittes. There’s a reason they fired George for asking too many questions and he was lucky. It could have been a lot worse. They’ve killed before. So if you want freedom to use what you can do, you're best off with us. I can't promise you safety or stability but we all get on and we watch each other's backs. Its-"
"I… I can't," Lucy said.
A part of her wanted to. The way the Lockwoods and George lived, the freedom they had… it was enticing. And to be free to explore a new power she had just discovered she had. The thought terrified her, of course, but she felt sure she would be able to face that fear with Lockwood at her side.
Lockwood and the rest of his companions, she mentally corrected. Lockwood and company.
But that life in general terrified her. She wasn’t prepared to give up everything she had worked so hard to make for herself. She had a good, steady job at Fittes. She could trust the people around her. Kipps was a far better supervisor to Jacobs. He cared. Lucy had fought so hard to get where she was. She couldn’t throw that away for people she had only just meant.
And, even if she was super powerful then, her talent was going to fade. Norrie had drilled into her about preparing for that inevitable future. If she threw her life away because of her talent, albeit an insanely powerful talent, she was going to have to live with that, long after it faded.
Jessica seemed to understand. Somehow that made it worse. Lucy felt like the young woman’s dark eyes could read her every thought. In an effort to escape the gaze, Lucy turned to Lockwood.
She wished she hadn’t.
He looked hurt. It was almost as if he felt like she was betraying him but choosing to go back to her normal life. And Lucy hated the fact that she found herself almost regretting her decision.
“Go on,” Jessica said, turning to her brother. “You go to the new base. I’ll let her out.”
“Let me do it,” Lockwood requested.
Jessica paused, glancing between the two teenagers. Then she moved toward Lucy.
“If anything happens to him, I will kill you, bring you back as a type three and then make you suffer for the rest of time. And when I say anything, I mean if one hair of his ridiculous haircut is even out of place, I will end you.”
Then she pulled back. She patted Lucy’s cheek fondly, passing Lockwood a key as she left the room. Lockwood beamed after her. He chuckled as he turned back to Lucy.
“Big sisters, huh? You got any?”
Lucy tried to take stock of all that had happened that day as she walked through the streets of London. It was so much. Too much.
She had found the base of three notorious relic-men and been captured by them. Then by pure coincidence, or else a terrible twist of fate, she had found out that she had the ability to talk to type threes, something she had only been able to confirm because the relic-men had a type three of their own. She couldn’t imagine that was particularly safe.
She desperately hoped they had more sense than to try to sell the skull. That could only end badly.
And speaking of things that could only end badly: Anthony Lockwood. It was like he was a character from the ridiculous romance novels Norrie had liked, the sort of guy the smart, sensible female lead would throw her life away for. Lucy had always vowed she could never do that for any guy.
And yet she knew, in a way, she already had. She was taunted by the sensation of Lockwood lending across her, of his steady fingers unlocking her handcuffs. He’d moved so close she was sure that he would have been able to hear her racing heart.
And then the cuffs had been freed and Lockwood seemed to linger, staring into her eyes as if he was looking for something. A small voice in the back of her mind that had sounded a lot like Kipps had told her to grab the handcuffs while he was distracted. She could have them around his wrists by the time he had even realised what was going on, have him in DEPRAC custody before Jessica and George realised anything had happened.
And yet she hadn’t. And she knew she wouldn’t. She’d keep making the same bad choice over and over again, probably until she was caught. It was his eyes. And his smile. And the way he seemed to genuinely want to do good from outside the system.
Things had been much simpler when relic-men were just ugly, ruthless thugs. It wasn’t fair.
Thoughts of other relic-men were enough to make Lucy suddenly very aware of her surroundings. She was on the streets of London, an oppressive darkness hanging around her. She told herself she needed to stay alert. Lockwood had returned her rapier to her as he let her leave the building - Lucy hadn’t even noticed it had been taken from her. She’d asked him if he thought it was wise arming her, that she could easily use her rapier to overpower him. He’d gestured to the rapier at his side and, in a somewhat boastful tone, had asked if she really wanted to see how that would go down.
A sudden chill passed through Lucy as she realised footsteps were following her. She reached for her rapier, continuing to walk along in the hope the person behind her hadn’t noticed her going for her weapon. Then she turned.
She caught a snatch of movement disappearing into the shadows behind a building. Drawing her rapier, Lucy tried to work out if it was a living assailant or a visitor. She ran her mind back over what she had seen. It had been dark - too dark to be a visitor, no other-light. It had looked almost cloak like, conjuring up visions of vampires and the villains who tied damsels to train tracks in black and white movies. It looked… Like a great coat.
“Lockwood?” Lucy tried. "Are you following me?"
She watched as Lockwood guiltily peeled himself from his hiding spot and approached.
"You were passed out for fourteen hours," he explained. "I was worried you would collapse walking home.”
Lucy shook her head, going to assure him that nothing was going to happen. But the way his brow furrowed in concern caught her eye. She could tell he was the sort to worry himself sick at the prospect of her walking home alone, probably try to show up at the Fittes headquarters to check on her. With what Jessica had said, Lucy hated the idea of Lockwood getting caught on Fittes property. She didn’t trust her employer with the young man. She only felt like she was safe going back because no one knew just how powerful she truly was.
She resolved that she would simply have to let him walk with her. The thought came with a half-hearted reluctance. The idea of such a handsome young man walking her home… She was never going to find it truly horrific.
“So, tell me what it’s like to work for Fittes? Is it as terrible as it looks?” Lockwood asked.
He walked her all the way back to the Fittes building, a long journey only made bearable by their conversation. Lucy could almost imagine they were friends, that Lockwood was some normal young man she’d met at a park or in the supermarket, the sort of guy she could hang out with. Her mind conjured up an image of them together at the upcoming Fittes at 50 ball. She could just tell he would look amazing, properly groomed in a suit reserved for special occasions. She could imagine them dancing together, him slowly leading her around the floor…
Of course, that could never happen. Even if he would ever want to dance with her, Kipps would have him being dragged off in handcuffs by the time Lucy had even gotten her head around the steps.
She realised that was a danger then too. Anyone could come out and see Lockwood and if Fittes could not be trusted, it would be the worst place to be caught.
"You should go," Lucy said. "Anyone could see you."
"That's the good thing about being me," Lockwood said. "No one knows what I look like."
Lucy shook her head, saying DEPRAC had gotten an artist to draw what he probably looked like based off one of his childhood photographs.
"It's actually pretty accurate," she admitted.
She paused.
"They didn't get your eyes right."
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” Lockwood asked, smirking.
Lucy found herself staring into them, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. She found herself reaching out, her fingers brushing against Lockwood’s cheek. She expected him to flinch away. For a second, he seemed to. But then he was shifting toward her touch, his eyes fixed onto her.
“Carlyle?”
Panic swept through Lucy as she recognised the voice. She turned, seeing Kipps, Kat, Bobby and Ned emerging from the Fittes’ building.
“Where on Earth have you been?”
Lucy turned back to Lockwood.
“Go,” she urged.
“If I run, they’ll recognise me for sure,” Lockwood hissed back.
He turned toward Kipps and his crew, a wide smile crossing his face. Lucy could not imagine he intended to attempt to bluff his way out of the situation but she knew she had no choice but to play along.
Kipps froze immediately. He had been the one Lucy had been most worried about. Lockwood seemed to have it out for Kipps in particular. It only made sense that Kipps had probably seen the sketch of Lockwood enough times to be able to recognise him on sight.
“Lockwood,” he spat.
Lockwood’s wide smile faltered but he soon had it back up just as strong.
“Pleasure to officially meet,” Lockwood said.
Kipps stormed down the steps, drawing his rapier. Kat, Ned and Bobby followed closely, their own weapons drawn. Lucy couldn’t help but notice the way Lockwood instinctively moved between here and the raised blades.
“Now, Lockwood, are you going to come quietly or will you be going to the hospital on your way to jail?” Kipps questioned.
Lucy watched Lockwood beginning to shift, going for his rapier, even as his eyes played down the length of the one before him. She thought he was mad. There was no way he was going to be able to fight off all of her team. But she guessed he was determined to go down fighting.
So he was a mad idiot.
A mad idiot who had stupidly walked her home despite knowing there would be dozens of people waiting there for the opportunity to arrest him.
He caught her eye for just a moment. Lucy expected to see a plea for her to help. She prepared herself to see him trying to coax her into betraying her team, into throwing her life away for him.
She was a little disappointed when she saw something else.
Acceptance. A look in his eyes like his final wish as a free man was to see her face, to store up some memory to desperately cling to.
Lucy grimaced. And then she did the first thing that came to mind when she looked into Lockwood’s eyes.
She swooned.
It was very dramatic, like she was some Victorian lady who had encountered some mild taboo. She raised a hand to her forehead and let her body drop with a loud gasp. Kipps dropped his rapier, turning to catch her. Kat, Bobby and Ned turned to watch, horror and confusion forming across their faces. Lucy held her eyes shut for several moments, pretending she had passed out.
“You three, after Lockwood,” Kipps growled. “I’ve got her.”
“He’s already gone,” Kat replied.
Kipps cursed beneath his breath. It took all of Lucy’s self control to keep herself from smiling. She felt strong arms scoop her up, remained limp in their grip.
"Let's get her to a medic,"
What followed next was a confusing enough blur even if Lucy hadn't properly fainted. She was hurried off to see the medics, giving the wall clear and then whisked through a series of interviews as people tried to determine what had happened.
Lucy created a story where she had discovered the base of the Lockwoods and been imprisoned for her troubles. Once she had escaped she had been chased across London by the younger of the pair, that he had caught up with her just before Kipps and the others had arrived and had been snarling threats at her when they had tried to apprehend him.
She hoped Lockwood wouldn't mind the damage to his gentlemanly reputation but she wasn’t about to throw away her career and get arrested as an accomplice for the sake of him looking good.
She'd given the address of the base to Kipps who had taken the others and a team of DEPRAC agents to the base. No one seemed all that surprised to find it had been completely abandoned. They vowed they were going to get the siblings and their friend next time, Kipps making it very clear he'd like to see the look on Anthony Lockwood’s face as he was carted away.
Being forced to lie, having been through everything she had been through that day, all Lucy wanted to do was collapse onto the bed in the dorm she shared with Kat. Kat was still out, going through the abandoned base in the hope of finding anything that might indicate where the inhabitants had disappeared off to and Lucy was glad of it, needing a few seconds to herself.
She was about to collapse when she noticed how cold it was. Her eyes drifted around the room tensely, coming to land on her bedroom window. It was ajar, the night air seeping in. And something had been left on her windowsill: a small note. It was simple, short, written on paper borrowed from her desk.
'Warn me next time you pretend to faint like that. I almost didn't run. A.J.L.'
Lucy realised a smile had formed on her lips while she had read it. She hurried to suppress it, folding up the note and slipping it into her pocket.
'Don't let there be a next time' she found herself writing.
She folded it up, wedged it in place so it was mostly out of her window. She had no idea if he would risk coming to get it. She almost hoped he wouldn't be so reckless.
The next morning, Lucy had to wait until Kat had left their room before she could check to see if her note had been taken. She opened the window, reaching out to catch the paper she had placed there before it fell. It dropped into her hand.
Lucy told herself it was for the best. What was she doing trying to become penpals with a relic-man? That was career ending.
She went to throw the paper away when her eyes caught on the page. Her note was folded up on the outside. Quickly unfolding it, she saw a note written inside.
'But, Miss Carlyle, I was really hoping there would be a next time'
And, as much as Lucy hated to admit it, so was she.