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The case started off well enough I suppose. Me and George were going to an old park where a “dark and foreboding presence” had been seen which, based on further information from the client and a quick trip to the Archives, George suspected was a Specter by the name of Psycho Sid. While we did that, Lockwood was going to take a solo case to a kindly old woman’s home where what we assumed was a Stone-knocker, based on the tapping she described, kept setting her seven cats into a yowling frenzy.
But then his case was postponed due to the woman leaving town and he decided he’d rather join me and George than sit around at home. Which was perfectly alright with me. Hopefully with the three of us it would be a quick case and we’d all be in bed by midnight. Really, it was looking to be a swell night.
But of course, as things usually go with Lockwood and Company, it wasn’t quite that simple.
It started off with a dull thud of pain in my right temple as we were getting into the taxi to head to the park, but I was used to aches and pains—as is the life of an agent—so I didn’t think too much about it. However, by the time we reached our destination it had already gotten worse. I consoled myself by sipping warm tea and thinking about likely getting so sleep through most of the night.
We set up an iron circle near a little playground and George explained his theories about the haunting, which I probably should have paid attention to, but the steadily increasing pain in my head was making it hard to concentrate. I figured it might make me feel better to sit down for a moment, so I moved to the base of a faded red slide and rather ungracefully plopped down.
Which ended up being a lovely mistake.
As soon as I touched the slide a sound that I was pretty sure was nails on a chalkboard exploded through my ears. The horrible sound reverberated through my head and it felt like my own nails had done the scraping. I wrenched away in an attempt to stop the awful feeling and in the process tripped over my own feet and bashed my head on the ground. That did not feel nice.
Lockwood and George were by my side in an instant.
“Lucy, are you okay?” Lockwood asked, reaching down to help me. “What happened?”
“I’m fine. Just got caught a bit off guard is all,” I said, and accepted his offered hand. He pulled me to my feet and I brushed the dirt from my clothes. “There's definitely some kind of psychic residue attached to that slide though.”
Lockwood didn't seem to care much about the slide. “Are you sure you're alright Luce? You’re looking a bit pale.”
“Oh I’m good. Just a bit of a headache.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but based on his expression it wasn’t very convincing.
A shout from George stopped him from being able to question me further.
“Luce was right,” George said, stepping closer to the slide. “The temperature by this slide is dropping crazy fast, and the miasma is already strong. Anybody have some gum?”
With one more glance at me, Lockwood stepped past both of us and started looking around in the way he does when looking for death-glows.
A moment later he found one.
“Aha! Look over there, under the slide and just a bit to the left. Do either or you see it? It’s very faint.”
George and I both squinted rather aggressively in the direction of his pointed finger, but neither of us could see anything. We told him as much.
“No matter,” Lockwood said. “Like I said, it is quite faint. Probably been there a while. How about sounds, do either of you heard anything?”
“I heard something when I touched the slide,” George replied. “Not a very pleasant sound, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. What about you Lucy? Something seemed to give you quite the fright.”
“Hmm?” I mumbled, not really paying attention. The pain in my head was getting quite bad. It felt like someone was driving a metal stake into my temple over and over again.
“Lucy?” Lockwood took a step toward me.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked, finally looking up.
“We asked if you had heard anything,” Lockwood said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“What? Oh yes. I’m fine. And yeah I did hear something. It sounded like someone clawing a chalkboard.” I gave a little shudder at the memory. “Definitely not a pleasant sound.”
“Interesting,” George muttered, and then wandered past the playground to continue tracking the temperature.
“While George looks over there, I’m going to take a look over here,” Lockwood said, gesturing in the opposite direction George had gone, “Why don’t you stick around here by the circle and watch our backs.”
Normally I would have insisted on doing more to help, but the thought of being able to sit down sounded glorious. So, rather than argue, I gave a nod and a tight smile to which he responded with a blinding grin and then scampered off in the direction he had referred to.
While they worked, I trudged over to our circle made of iron chains and sat in the middle, careful not to jostle my head. Once there, I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath through my nose, trying to relieve some of the pain.
I had certainly had my fair share of headaches in the past, and they had only been worse since my trips to the Other Side, but this one seemed set on trying to be the worst one yet. Rather than leveling off after a certain point like it usually did, the pain just kept growing. And exponentially so. It thudded in my right temple and radiated throughout the rest of my skull with a vengeance, and all the thudding and shuffling around George was doing certainly wasn’t helping anything.
I quickly grew fed up with that.
“George, would you stop it with all that noise? It’s driving me mad!”
“Give it to me. Give it to me!”
My eyes flew open. That voice did not belong to George. In fact, standing right in front of me, was not his bespectacled face, but instead was who I assumed was the infamous Psycho Sid.
He was a boy who looked to be about my age and was wearing old-fashioned clothes and held a long shard of what I guessed was a chalkboard in his hand. With a smile that could only be described as sadistic he drew his hand back and scraped his nails from the top of the shard clear down to the bottom. And then he did it again.
The repeated scraping was nearly enough to make my head explode, and I could still feel the scraping deep in my fingernails as if I was the one doing it.
I smacked my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sounds, but of course, as it was a psychic sound, that did no good.
“Give it to me! GIVE IT TO ME!”
The Visitor’s voice swelled to a screech that was nearly as bad as the scraping. Today was definitely not a great day to be a Listener.
“Lockwood! George! Get over here!” Sure, I probably should have tried to sound at least a bit more calm, but my head was already pounding and the sounds were quickly getting to be too much.
Thankfully, they were both finally starting to learn that when someone yelled it usually meant they needed something right now.
Lockwood was the first to arrive, but he stopped short when he saw the glowing figure.
“Ah it seems you’ve found our ghastly friend. Well done Luce.”
“Yes,” I grumbled. “And he’s obnoxiously loud. Shut him up, why don’t you.”
Lockwood flourished his rapier and grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”
He charged at the ghost, slashing warding knots through the air with his sword while I took one more deep breath, then forced myself to my feet and ran toward the red slide.
I dropped down next to it and started ripping up the dirt and grass in the coldest spot I could find with my crowbar, cursing at both my head and the fact that we didn’t bring a shovel. A moment later, George was beside me.
“I was going to ask if everything was okay, but I guess the answer is already in front of me.”
My only reply was to grunt and dig harder. I had thought getting away from the apparition would have lessened the sound, but now that I was close to the slide, where I was very sure the source was located, it had only gotten worse.
Together we alternated between breaking up the dirt with the crowbar and scooping it up with our hands. We were making decent progress when Sid gave a particularly loud screech.
“GIVE IT TO MEEE!”
I looked over my shoulder to see the ghost rushing straight at us.
“Hey, get back here,” Lockwood shouted as he ran after it. It had grown brighter and the scraping was worse than ever, so I assumed we were getting close.
“You keep digging,” I said. “I’ll help Lockwood.” I moved to stand up, but as soon as I was on my feet a wave of nausea crashed over me and my head raged. I sucked in a breath through my teeth and tried to steady myself.
“On second thought,” George said, standing up and handing me the crowbar. “You stay here and dig, and I’ll help Lockwood.”
I almost protested, but then Psycho Sid let out a bellow of rage and Lockwood tripped while trying to get out of the way of a burst of ectoplasm.
“Fine,” I grumbled, and snatched the crowbar from his hand. “But if either of you get yourselves killed I will strangle you.”
“But if we’re already—Nevermind. Just hurry.” With that George drew his rapier and ran toward Lockwood.
I sank back to the ground, and though I was furious with myself for this weakness, it did feel wonderful to be off my feet again. After a few more minutes of digging and doing my best to ignore the atrocious cacophony coming from both the living and the dead behind me, I saw a crumbling shard of something dark green sticking out of the ground. I nearly had it completely uncovered when I made the mistake of touching it.
The screeching sounds from before swelled until I could feel them in my bones. It felt like my fingernails were on fire and something was slashing across my arms. With a start I realized that the yelling from Sid and scratching on the chalkboard weren’t the only things I was hearing; mixing with them was the screams of children in pain.
The bloody lunatic had cut up his schoolmates with this shard for fun.
No wonder they called him psycho.
George had probably explained all of this, the way he died, and about fourteen extra gruesome facts earlier, but I didn’t have time to care about that right now. The scraping and shouting was growing louder, Sid started laughing in a way that made my blood curdle, and my throat ached as I realized I was screaming with the schoolchildren.
“Lucy!” Hands wrapped around my waist and jerked me backward. My fingers fell away from the shard, and though the sounds lessened some, they still raged on.
“Lucy, Lucy are you alright?” Lockwood’s worried face filled my view. “Lucy, are you okay? What happened?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a half-scream, half-sob.
“Luce, Lucy come on. What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
I clutched my hands over my head. “Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.”
“Make what stop? Make what—Lucy, look at me. What’s the matter?” He shook my arm, trying to get my attention.
I grabbed his wrist. “The shard Lockwood. You’ve got to contain it.”
“The shard? Lucy, what do you mean?” His eyes darted around frantically, before they finally landed on what was at the bottom of the hole. “Oh, oh that shard!”
He reached over me, tore through the pockets of a bag, pulled out a large silver net, and then–
Silence.
I gasped at the sudden change in the atmosphere and basked in the silence. My ears and fingers still somehow burned, and the steady thud thud thud of pain in my head had yet to stop, but at least it was finally, blessedly quiet. After a few more shaky breaths I pushed onto my arms to sit up, but then decided that this place on the ground really wasn’t that uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Lockwood was beside me again. He was breathing heavily and his hair was more rumpled than usual, but other than that he seemed okay. His arms were around me again and he gently started pulling me up into a sitting position, and though I groaned in protest, I let him, and did my best to help.
George stumbled over to where we sat. Steam rose from the sleeve of his coat where ectoplasm had touched it, but it didn’t seem to have reached his skin. He sat down beside us, and we all stayed there in silence content with doing nothing but catching our breaths.
After a few minutes Lockwood cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well,” he said, “Let’s get back home. It’ll be far more comfortable than sitting out here.”
George heaved himself up to his feet. “A packet of biscuits and a shower sounds magnificent.”
Lockwood stood as well, and the two of them started gathering up the scatter gear. He looked back at me when I didn’t follow.
“You coming, Luce?”
“Yeah, just a minute.”
He gave me a concerned look, but just nodded and continued gathering things with George. After securing everything in our bags they walked back over to me where I still hadn’t moved.
“Lucy, are you sure you’re–”
“Yes Lockwood, I’m fine. Like I said earlier, it’s just a little headache,” I said emphatically. Unfortunately, my statement lost any credibility it might have had when I stood up and nearly lost my balance. And I probably would have too if Lockwood hadn’t grabbed onto me. I gripped his arm as I tried to blink away the dizziness and pain that had surged behind my eyes.
“Lucy, I think this is more than just a ‘little headache.’ I think there’s a hospital nearby, we could–”
“No,” I cut him off. “I am not going to a hospital for a measly headache. All I need is a strong cup of tea and to get to bed, then I’ll be fine.”
He opened his mouth to speak again, but this time George interrupted him.
“While you two sort this out, I’m going to hail a night cab,” he said tiredly, and then ambled off toward the nearest phone booth, taking two of the kit bags with him.
I sighed. “Lockwood, I promise I’m fine. It really is just a headache, and that Sid kid didn’t help it. What was his problem anyway?”
He gave me a look that said he had noticed my attempt at changing the subject, but he let me have it anyway. “Local legend is that he was raised by wolves, and when people tried to civilize him he went feral. Started slicing people with that shard you found until one day I guess his classmates grew tired of it and dropped rocks on his head till he died. They say he laughed the whole time.”
I shuddered at the memory of his laughter. “Definitely not a pleasant fellow.”
Lockwood laughed. “I certainly have no desire to meet him again. Well, shall we get going then?”
I nodded and we set off, though I had to lean on him far more than I would have liked to admit.
Thanks to me, our pace was rather slow and by the time we reached George the lights of our cab could already be seen approaching.
Once inside, I shut my eyes and did my best to block everything out. Now that the rush of the fight was gone and the adrenaline was fading, the ache in my head was somehow getting worse. I leaned my forehead against the cool window and focused on counting my breaths.
After what felt like both an eternity and only a few minutes, we arrived outside of 35 Portland Row. As soon as we stopped, I crawled out of the back seat and went to the front door, leaving the boys to deal with payment.
Inside, I left the lights off and stumbled through the dark to the kitchen. I went straight to the cupboard where we kept various bottles of medicine, and more importantly: painkillers. I had just found what I thought was the right bottle when the lights kicked on and I hissed in pain.
“Woah.” Lockwood laughed. “I didn’t know you were part vampire, Luce.” But the lights went back off anyway.
I heard him maneuvering around furniture until he was right next to me. “Here, let me help you,” he said, taking the bottle from my hands. He pulled a chair out from under the table and I gratefully sat while he checked the label on the bottle and then dumped out what I hoped was the largest dose a human could safely consume. Though, with the night going the way it was, I was about ready to give up on safety.
Moving effortlessly through the kitchen even though it was almost completely dark, Lockwood filled a glass with water and put it in front of me, and then carefully placed the painkillers in my hand. I gulped them down, and about half of the water, then gently rested my head against the table.
The front door slammed shut.
George stomped in and flipped the light switch on. “Really Lockwood? Leaving me to pay for the cab? You’re–”
I smacked my hand over my eyes at the sudden brightness. “Lights!”
George paused. “What? Oh!” He fumbled with the switch and then we were enveloped in darkness again.
“What was that about? And Lockwood, I still–”
“George,” Lockwood said. “Lucy’s not feeling well right now, so why don’t we continue this later.”
“Fine,” George huffed. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lockwood said with a laugh.
“You’re both awfully loud,” I grumbled with my head still pressed against the Thinking Cloth.
They both let out a whispered “Sorry.”
A chair scraped against the ground as Lockwood sat down next to me. He gently laid his hand on my shoulder. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Some tea would be great,” I mumbled.
I rubbed at my forehead as George filled the kettle and Lockwood pulled out mugs. A few minutes later a steaming cup was set in front of me. I took a small sip, but found I couldn’t take anymore. The pain was starting to make me nauseous again. Lockwood and George sat down on either side of me.
“You two don’t have to stay up,” I said after George did his best to stifle his third yawn in the past minute. “I’ll just wait for these painkillers to kick in, and then I’ll head to bed. You’re probably both exhausted,”
“It’s no problem,” George said., and sipped his own tea.
Lockwood stayed quiet. I was starting to wonder if he had dozed off when abruptly he stood up.
He came up behind me and rested his hands on the back of my chair.
“Hey Luce, I’m going to try something,” he whispered, then brought his hands up to the sides of my head and started massaging in slow circles. “Is this okay?”
I sighed and relaxed against the chair. “Mhm.”
His fingers slipped into my hair and continued massaging against my scalp, and I closed my eyes. It certainly didn’t get rid of the pain, but it relieved some of it, and I was desperately grateful for that.
“Jessica used to get really bad headaches,” he murmured after a few moments. “After our parents…”
“Oh,” me and George both said, because really, what else was there to say?
Lockwood cleared his throat. “I think it was the stress of everything…but at least now I know a few tricks.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I don’t know how long we sat there as he rubbed slow circles into my head, and then shoulders. When I opened my eyes again the seat George had previously occupied was empty.
“George went up to bed,” he said softly when he noticed where I was looking. “I think you dozed off for a minute.”
I went to take a sip of my tea, but found it was stone cold. I had been dozing for far more than just a minute.
I turned in my chair to face him, and his hands fell away. “Sorry, I’ve been ridiculous. You don’t have to keep doing that.”
He gave me a smile that was tinged with tiredness, though he was good at hiding it. “Don’t be silly Luce. I’m more than happy to do this.”
“Well still, sorry. You’ve got to be completely worn out.”
He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay?”
He waited for me to nod before continuing. “And besides, you’re probably more tired than I am. I didn’t have to listen to that screeching ghost. Why don’t you head to bed. If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”
“Yeah, yeah sleep sounds nice.”
Carefully, he scooted out my chair and I stood. Without really thinking, our hands met in the dark as we made our way up the stairs. As we came up to the landing, I dreaded going our separate ways far more than I’d care to admit, but he didn’t stop. Instead, we continued up the stairs to my attic bedroom.
The door creaked as it opened and a sliver of moonlight shined across the floor. I sat down on the bed and took off my boots while Lockwood closed the curtains. Bending down sent an unpleasant rush of pain to my head, but when I sat back up again it ebbed a little.
Lockwood sat down next to me. “How’s your head?” he asked, still speaking in hushed tones.
My half hearted shrug was answer enough for him. He kicked off his own shoes and scooted back until he was leaning against the headboard. Then he gently pulled me into his arms so that my back was against his chest. His fingers found my scalp and once again began to massage slow circles into it.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured.
“I already said I’m happy to. Just get some rest Luce, and I’m right here if you need anything.”
I was going to protest again, really I was, but here in the safety of Portland Row with Lockwood’s arms wrapped around me, I couldn’t help but sleep.