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Sunlight streamed into the room with enough brightness to wake me, had I not already been up for an hour. I sighed, rolling over to look at Lockwood’s empty side of the bed. The mattress was barely warm. My guess was he left the bed about an hour before I woke up; I remember feeling the lack of his presence in my restless sleep.
It had not been a good night.
The clock on my nightstand showed 7:26. I groaned. Barely five hours of sleep, which nowadays was much less than I normally got. Everyone had been at the house the night before. Holly and Quill came from their flats and even Flo dropped by for a few hours. We’d stayed up late, eating good food and talking about everything under the sun but avoiding the one reason we’d all wanted to be together. Then George, Lockwood, and I stayed up even longer after the others left, not wanting to go to bed.
Seven years , I thought to myself as I finally sat up. Seven years to the day since Marissa Fittes had met her long overdue end. Seven years since the house was destroyed, that terrible trip to the Other Side, almost losing Kipps, Lockwood nearly sacrificing himself, and the Skull actually doing so. The anniversary always brought back unpleasant feelings and thoughts, but for some reason I felt like this year it was affecting me more than usual.
I quietly made my way downstairs, noting the snores coming from George’s room. I could tell from the rhythm that he was alone, that Flo hadn’t slipped back into the house and up to his bed as she sometimes did. Lockwood was nowhere to be seen, or heard, but I had an idea of where I might find him.
When I reached the entryway I made my way over to the phone. Next to it was a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. After all these years we all probably had it memorized, but for whatever reason no one ever got rid of the paper.
Luckily, the DEPRAC offices opened earlier than most other places and after just two rings my call was answered. A nice woman on the other end of the line asked how she could help me.
“Yes, this is Lucy Carlyle,” I said. “I was wondering if Dr. Hart by any chance has an opening sometime today? This morning if possible?”
“Just one moment, dear,” the woman told me. I could hear her reaching for something, most likely an appointment book, and after a few seconds she said, “You’re in luck. Dr. Hart is free in just a few hours at eleven.”
My shoulders relaxed. Dr. Hart was the therapist Barnes had us all go see after everything. I had been to see her a handful of other times since, as I knew the others had. “That would be perfect, I’ll be there. Thank you.”
I said goodbye to the woman then hung up the phone. I checked the kitchen just in case, but no Lockwood. Instead of going back upstairs right away, I broke into his package of Choco Leibniz, figuring he would need one so he wouldn’t mind.
I climbed the stairs until I came to Jessica’s old room. No noise came from inside, but the light was on, I could see it underneath the door. I knocked softly, waited a beat, then went inside.
Lockwood was sitting on the bed, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked tired.
I closed the door. “Morning.”
He gave me a small smile. “Morning, Luce.”
The room was pretty much the same as it was after we repaired the damage done by our makeshift gate. The only difference now was the addition of several photos Lockwood had pulled out of storage over the years. They gave the room a certain feeling of nostalgia, but in a way that was healthier than before when Lockwood simply left all memory of Jessica untouched. Now, with the memories out in the open, every so often I would find him in the room, mulling something over.
I sat down next to him, taking his hand in mine and leaning my head on his shoulder, mostly to be close to him but also because I was still tired.
“It’s bad for me today, Lockwood,” I finally said. I lifted my head to look at him, but I kept my side pressed firmly against his in comfort. “Is it bad for you too?”
He sighed. “Not any more than normal,” he said, but then he shook his head. “Well, maybe that’s not true. Somehow I can’t tell. Does that make sense?”
His voice was quiet, his face pale. His lack of sleep was evident in the dark spots underneath his eyes. I’m confident I looked just as bad. “Yes,” I told him. “It does.”
A moment of silence passed before I remembered the two biscuits in my other hand. “Here,” I passed him one, “brought this for you. It’s a good thing I thought to wrap it in a napkin, or else it would probably be all sweaty from my hand.”
Lockwood chuckled at that, making a face of mock disgust. “I continue to be grateful for your thoughtfulness, Lucy.” He took a bite, swallowed, then asked, “Do you have any idea why it’s particularly bad for you today?”
I hesitated. “Not really, and that’s only bothering me more. I don’t understand why I couldn’t have felt this way when it had been five years, or when it will be ten. Those are significant numbers. Much more so than seven.” I let out a huff. “Anyway, it’s silly, but it’s still bothering me.”
“Your feelings are never silly,” Lockwood said. “Maybe you’d feel better if-”
I cut him off. “I know. I just called. I have an appointment at eleven.”
Lockwood smiled. “That’s good,” he said. He looked a bit better, but I knew there was still something on his mind.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked. “Maybe Dr. Hart has another opening and you could see her after me.”
“I actually already have an appointment for this afternoon. Three o’clock.”
Now I smiled at him. “That’s good, Lockwood.” Though I didn’t say it, I was proud of him. And of myself, for that matter.
I rested my head on his shoulder once more, moving my hand to his back and gently scratching. He yawned, and I glanced down at his wrist to read his watch. 7:40.
“Do you want to go back to bed for a bit? I’ve got some time before I need to leave and I’m exhausted.”
Lockwood’s head now rested on mine so I could feel him nod. “Me too. That sounds wonderful.”
We moved slowly out of the room, his arm around my shoulder and mine around his waist. We wasted no time crawling back into our bed, and after what felt like seconds I was already drifting to sleep. Lockwood’s arm lay comfortably over my waist, and despite my uneasiness, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic about the day ahead of me.
❋❋❋
After a few more hours of sleep and some proper food I was ready to go. Lockwood and George -who had woken up in time to join us for breakfast- waved goodbye to me from the door as I climbed into a cab.
It wasn’t a long cab ride to the DEPRAC offices. I normally spaced out if I was by myself or wasn’t engaged in conversation with the others. But that was not the case this time. For the life of me, my mind would not shut off.
I hadn’t been entirely truthful with Lockwood when I said I didn’t really know what was bothering me. I knew partly what was bothering me, but whether or not it was related to the seven year anniversary of the Fittes House incident was for Dr. Hart to work out.
Rough was the only word that truly described how I felt, and had felt for some time. From what I could tell, this rough feeling was due to some recent changes. Had they been changes happening directly to me, maybe I would handle it better.
But they weren’t. Instead, everything was changing for everyone else and I wasn’t keeping up.
In a way, the start of it all was when George and Holly started to lose their Talents. Oh, they both still had some psychic abilities, but not like they once had. The loss was a gradual fade, and it ended when they were both at an age that made them only slightly reluctant in their decisions to step away from field work.
They each had no problem finding new ways to spend their time. While it was true that the thrill of going on cases appealed to George, the research had always appealed to him more. He of course spent more time at the Archives, which I somehow believed was impossible. He eventually became one of their regular researchers and was inspired by his new colleagues to enroll part-time in classes at one of the local universities. He now had hopes of becoming an adjunct instructor there, teaching a course about the Problem, and I very much believed he would reach that goal sooner rather than later.
Interestingly enough, Holly also spent more of her time at the Archives. She became their resident expert for the Anthony Lockwood gallery. Her average week consisted of providing information to visitors, assisting the curator, and dealing with the general upkeep of the displays. She did good work there, but it was only part-time, and Holly was the type to need something more. So, she decided to help Lockwood and Quill with their own project. More on that later.
Quill’s Talent of course was long gone. Though he still had the goggles, as the years went by he made more and more comments about not needing to go on cases at his age. He had done his part. So he, too, backed away from field work.
These changes didn’t happen all at once. Everything was gradual. For a while, I was only truly bothered if I thought about it long enough, or I had two or three bad days in a row. A bright spot throughout it all was that Lockwood and I still had our Talents. Perhaps our abilities had lessened ever so slightly -we both noticed a small difference- but not enough to stop us from taking jobs. We had to scale back a bit since it was just the two of us, at times taking low-profile cases such as the ones we did during the Black Winter, but we did well enough to get by and then some.
Up until recently, that was our normal. Lockwood and I still worked as agents and the others did their own things, while still helping the agency in whatever way they could.
But now, another change had happened and it was suddenly all too much.
Lockwood and Quill were in the midst of opening a fencing school. The idea first came about when Arif retired and his shop went up for sale. It was Quill who thought of it. Before then he’d been doing various jobs for DEPRAC under Barnes. While he was certainly thankful to Barnes for the work (he did have a rent to pay, as he often had to remind us), he just wanted to do something different. And somehow, he talked Lockwood into doing it with him.
That’s probably what was so hard for me to understand. I thought Lockwood and I were just fine as we were. I felt no need to move on from being an agent. We had never even really talked about the possibility or what would happen. At most, there were a handful of times when we’d daydream about what we would do with our lives when our days as agents were over, but to me that was a world that was lifetimes away. It was never a serious conversation, never real. But, now it was. Lockwood was ready to move on, and I had no idea how to cope with that.
So at the moment, Lockwood and Quill were focused on their school, set to open in a few short months. Holly was helping them with all the official paperwork, and would continue to do so when they started lessons. George was as immersed as ever in his research with the addition of his studies. And where did that leave me, Lucy Carlyle? I was still doing the same thing I had since I was a child.
I tried -and was invited- to be involved in each of the others’ new endeavors as much as I could. I brainstormed ideas for gallery additions with Holly, joined George at the Archives late at night if he ever got lonely or needed a study partner, and spent many hours clearing out Arif’s shop with Lockwood and Quill to make it a suitable space for fencing. Between that and one or two cases a week, I certainly wasn’t hurting for things to do. The problem was, none of it felt sustainable.
The cab went over a pothole, jolting me back to reality. I sat up straighter, and with a yawn looked out the window at my surroundings. We were nearing the DEPRAC offices, which hopefully meant I would soon get some reprieve from my thoughts.
My thoughts and my problems had given me trouble for weeks, if not longer. The changes and the looming reminder of our battle with Marissa was all too much and it was obviously affecting me.
As I left the cab and my feet hit the pavement my sense of optimism from before returned. It helped that when I entered the building I saw Barnes standing at the reception desk, speaking with whom I guessed was the woman I talked to on the phone.
Each time I saw him I couldn’t help but feel grateful for how much help he’d given us over the years. There was a lot that we owed him for.
Barnes greeted me with a small smile, his face adorned with what for him was a sympathetic look. “Miss Carlyle. How are you this morning?”
“I’ll be alright after a while, Inspector,” I said. “Though it is nice to see a familiar face.”
He just gave me a pat on the shoulder, leaving me to the receptionist. As he turned away I caught a glance of his ever-greying mustache and the slight slowness of his movements. I found myself reminded that every year that we got older, so did he. It made me a little sad, but the concept didn’t seem so strange to me anymore.
“Lucy?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You can have a seat and Dr. Hart will be out to get you in a few minutes.”
I thanked her and moved to the waiting area. I sighed as I sat down, trying to relax. I had worked myself up too much in the cab. But it would be alright. That’s what I kept telling myself.
It will be alright .
❋❋❋
Dr. Hart was a middle-aged woman, younger than Barnes from what I could tell. It had been about two years since my last session, but she hadn’t changed much. She had light brown hair that she wore pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she was always dressed in a plain blouse and trousers. Her office was similar; undecorated walls, a single plant in one of the corners, her degree displayed quietly on her desk. However, it wasn’t an intimidating room. And she obviously wasn’t an intimidating person.
I had been skeptical of her and the whole therapy process at first, but after most of our sessions I always felt like I’d accomplished something, so I knew it was worthwhile.
As I settled into the chair across from her, she grabbed a notebook from the coffee table between us. I don’t know why because she never took any notes, she just listened. Every once and a while she would scribble nonsense drawings. Perhaps she just liked having something to occupy her hands.
“How are you, Lucy?” she asked me.
A short, breathy laugh escaped my mouth. “Not that great, if I’m honest.”
“Well, honesty’s always good. What’s on your mind?”
I studied her for a second, unsure of where to start. A brief moment of silence passed between us before I said, “You have the same name as my sister.”
“Mary?” I nodded. “You never told me you have a sister.”
I realized with surprise that she was right. It seemed a bit strange all of a sudden that we had never discussed my family at length. I usually only came when the horrors of being an agent got to be too much, and talking about those of course took up the whole session. We discussed my mother once, and very briefly my father, but that was all.
Thinking about it, our lack of conversations about my family was one of the reasons I liked her so much. She didn’t poke or prod more than she needed too, instead letting me lead the conversation and deal with whatever it was that I needed to in the moment.
My lips pursed. “I’ve got six.”
Mary Hart raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yes,” I paused, “but believe me, that’s a conversation for another day.”
“Alright then.”
She stopped then, giving me control and waiting for me to talk. As much time as I had to think about it beforehand, I still had to rack my brain for a moment to know where to start. Finally I said, “I don’t suppose you know what day it is?”
Dr. Hart nodded. “Yes, I’m aware that it’s the anniversary.”
“Well, on top of that, everything’s changing and I just feel like I can’t keep up.”
“How so?”
I shifted in my seat, looking down at the carpet. It was difficult to find the right words. “George and Holly are busy with their work, like always. That’s pretty normal so I don’t think it’s bothering me too much. They’ve basically moved on and I’ve accepted that.”
My gaze switched back to Dr. Hart. She waited patiently for me to continue, not pushy but not like she was bored either. I sighed and sat up a bit straighter.
“Quill’s moved on even more than he already had, which isn’t surprising, but he’s taking Lockwood with him. They’re starting a fencing school together. I suppose that’s what’s bothering me the most. It didn’t even take him that long to make the decision. I don’t see how he and the others are ready to move on, just like that.”
“Would you say that’s the biggest change you’ve experienced recently?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess. But, then again, everything’s changed in the last seven years. It has for my friends, at least. I really only experienced change at the beginning. Eventually, I found a new normal that I liked. I thought everyone else liked it, too, but now they’re all doing different things and I’m not.”
My voice wavered for a moment as I finished my thought, and I had to take a deep breath.
“I have a horrible feeling that it’s going to feel like this forever,” I said.
Dr. Hart nodded her head, a look of understanding on her face. “Have there been other times when you’ve felt like this?”
For some reason, memories of Holly’s first days with the company and the tension between Lockwood and I flooded my mind. It was a different situation but nonetheless a change. I hesitated before saying anything; I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how I acted, no matter how much time had passed.
I gave her a small smile. “Yes. I, uh, don’t know how well I handled it though.”
She tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”
“It was when Holly joined. I didn’t adjust well to her being there. I didn’t like the disruption and didn’t understand why Lockwood and George were dealing with it better than I was. Lockwood and I also had several arguments around that time about my Talent. It just wasn’t a good time.”
“And what happened?”
“That was when I left for a few months. I think it ended up being four, but at the time it felt like much longer.” I took another deep breath. It all seemed so long ago now, and it was hard to imagine that the solo agent life was once my reality. “But, then I went back. Everything was eventually okay.”
“You worked everything out with Lockwood and Holly?”
“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “I did. It didn’t take all that long with Lockwood. We just needed a moment alone with some ghosts to get our issues ironed out. Holly and I spoke about it a little when I first came back. There wasn’t much more to do except apologize, and then as time went on we became closer friends.”
Dr. Hart nodded. “I see. Well, Lucy, it seems to me that, although you might not handle it well initially, you’ve always eventually dealt with change.” Her voice went up slightly as she finished her sentence, like she was asking if I agreed with her.
I sat with that thought for a minute. It made sense to me. I should have felt that way, but I didn’t. “Yes, but this, this is different.”
She tilted her head to the side again. “Why do you think that is?”
I exhaled. I knew that talking about my feelings would be hard, but saying it out loud was like finally admitting it to myself. “I- I think I’m just really upset about Lockwood. I don’t really know if it’s even worth getting upset about. We haven’t talked about whether or not he’ll still go on cases, so I guess there’s always the possibility, but I just don’t see how that can work out. He’ll need to be full time at the school. I just don’t understand it. He’s lost hardly any of his Talent, just like me. So why does he want to step away all of a sudden?”
“Have you ever thought about it for yourself, Lucy?”
“A bit, but nothing I’d consider serious. I’ve been an agent for so long that the possibility of doing something else has never seemed real.” I paused and collected my thoughts. “Sometimes I think I’m ready to be done and even be done with my Talent. It ties me to all of the gruesome things I’ve been through as an agent. I’m tired and I just want some peace.
“But, at the same time, my Talent is what’s gotten me through everything over the years. It’s what sets me apart and makes me special. I don’t think it’ll ever fade, but if it does or if I decide to step away. . . I don’t know. For so long, I’ve thought that I was different, and it’s because of my Talent.”
I rested my head in my hands and closed my eyes. All of my bad feelings from the last few weeks had piled up and I could certainly tell.
Dr. Hart set her notebook down before leaning forward to talk to me. “Lucy, from what Inspector Barnes -and you, for that matter- have told me, I'd say you are special. Talent or not.”
My face got a little warm. “Thank you.”
“No, I need you to listen to me. Your Talent isn’t the only thing that’s gotten you through everything, okay? You got yourself through it all. Your friends got you through it, just like I’m sure you got them through the same terrible situations. Yes, your Talent is extraordinary and certainly a part of you. But, it’s not the only part of you, and it’s certainly not the only part of you that’s special. Do you agree?”
I couldn’t help the tears that came to my eyes. “Yes,” I said.
“Good. Now, I definitely think you need to talk to Lockwood about how you’re feeling.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m going to.”
“Good. And as for feeling like you’re not keeping up with all these changes, I truly think some reflection will help you the most. If the others are ready to move on and you’re not, who cares? That’s perfectly fine. And if you do want to move on, take it at your own pace. Regardless, it seems like you’re still in need of some closure on this chapter of your life.”
I nodded, but I must’ve looked confused because she continued.
“How you get that closure is up to you, but I would suggest writing your story down. It can be as much or as little as you want, but something that can help you process it a bit better. Something as simple as writing a few words on a page can go a long way. Does that sound like something you think would help you?”
I nodded again. “Yes, I think it would.”
“Alright. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?”
There probably was, but my mind was already turning, trying to think of how I should start writing. “No, I don’t think so.”
I stood up and she opened the door for me. “Thank you, Dr. Hart.”
She smiled at me. “Anytime, Lucy. Call whenever you need me. And above all, be kind to yourself.”
❋❋❋
About 15 minutes later I was sitting at a cafe eating a sandwich and crisps. It was the peak lunch hour and there were tons of people out, and it was nice to give my mind a break while doing some people watching. Eventually, I sat there long enough that the crowd thinned out and my thoughts wandered back to Dr. Hart’s words.
I think she was right. Writing something down could help me. But where to start?
Several images flashed through my mind as I climbed in a cab to go home. My first day as an agent with Jacobs back home. George opening the door at Portland Row and taking me inside for my interview. Jumping into the Thames with Lockwood. Sitting with Holly as we waited for Gale and Winkman to attack our home. Leaving the Fittes House with Lockwood after finally defeating Marissa.
It was that last image that stuck with me the longest. Maybe that’s what I should write about , I thought. After all, that moment caused a lot of change.
Once home, I felt much better. I had an end goal in mind. My actions felt purposeful rather than aimless, and I knew I was on the right track. But still, how did I begin a story that ended with our company uncovering the biggest scandal of our lives?
I went to the sink to get a glass of water. A faint noise came from outside, and I realized it was the siren of a fire engine. It went by quickly, but as it did, it triggered a memory. All of a sudden the image of flames, smoke, and our client’s damaged house filled my mind. I couldn’t help but laugh and realized that would be a perfect place to start. The beginning.
The only thing to write on in the kitchen was the Thinking Cloth, and I definitely needed something more private. I checked in the library and living room for some paper and a pencil, but didn’t find anything.
Lockwood was getting ready for his appointment when I stepped into our room.
“Hi, Luce,” he greeted me with a kiss. “How are you?”
“A lot better, thanks. Do you know if we have any paper in here? Maybe a pencil?”
One of Lockwood’s eyebrows raised as he effortlessly did up his tie. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
I didn’t answer him, searching through the room instead, just in case.
“Are you alright, Lucy? Do you want to talk before I go?”
“Not right now. I need to work on something first. Later though, I promise.” I gave him a peck on the cheek for extra assurance.
He nodded. “Of course.” As I stepped towards the door he said, “You might check George’s room for some paper.”
“Paper for what?” George asked, appearing in the doorway. It looked like he’d been down in the basement, running some sort of test. Goggle lines were visible on his face just below his glasses and he smelled slightly of burnt salt.
“Just something,” I said. “Do you have paper I could borrow? Or a pencil?”
George glanced towards his room, and I caught sight of the mess he had in there. Books, scribbled notes, and various other materials were scattered everywhere. He gave me a shrug. “Sorry, Lucy. If there’s a pencil and blank paper in there, I’m not going to find them for a while. I got frustrated while studying and had to go down to the basement for a break.”
This had become somewhat of a normal occurrence since George started his classes, so I just shrugged back. “No matter. I’ll check the attic.”
“I’ll come say bye before I leave,” Lockwood called after me.
I waved a hand behind me as I climbed the stairs and heard both of their doors shut.
Getting into my old room was easier said than done. We used it for storage, and unfortunately it was kind of turning us into hoarders. A number of boxes partially blocked the door, so it wasn’t until I got past those that I could take a good look at the room.
It looked basically the same as it had when I moved downstairs, just a lot more clutter. One piece of clutter was an old desk we had brought up from the basement. On a whim, I took a look in the top right drawer.
Bingo. One of my sketchbooks and a couple of pencils were in there. The majority of the pages were completely blank; I hadn’t sketched in a long time. Maybe I would start back up again.
I cleared off the chair next to the desk and situated myself. I was ready to start. My hand hovered over the page for a moment, but the Hope case once again popped into my mind. What a disaster , I thought. A smile formed on my face as I put the pencil to the paper and began to write.
Of the first few hauntings I investigated with Lockwood & Co. I intend to say little, in part to protect the identity of the victims, in part because of the gruesome nature of the incidents, but mainly because, in a variety of ingenious ways, we succeeded in cocking them all up .
I read over what I wrote, but before I could get through it all, a knock sounded at my door. It was Lockwood.
He came over and sat in an empty spot on the bed. “I’m leaving in a few minutes,” he said.
I turned around a bit so I could face him and reached for his hand. “Good. I hope it helps you feel better. And listen, I know I said we’d talk later, but I just wanted to say for now that I’m having a hard time with everything that’s changing for you and the others. It feels like you’re all moving on, and I didn’t know it would happen so soon.”
Lockwood gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I should’ve talked to you more before I agreed to open the school with Quill.”
“No, Lockwood, if you’re ready to step away then you have my full support. I talked about it with Dr. Hart, and I just need to think about what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not sure. My gut feeling is that I still want to go out on cases. It’s weird right now with all of you doing other stuff, but I think I’m okay with it.” I looked toward my sketchbook. “Then again, maybe there are other things I would want to do. I don’t know yet.”
Lockwood glanced over to see what I’d written. “Oh? What’re you working on?”
“It’s just a sentence so far,” I handed it to him to read. “Dr. Hart also said I needed closure, that I maybe haven’t processed everything that happened. She said I should try writing it down, so I guess that’s what I’ll do.”
I watched as his gaze moved from one side of the page to the other. A warm feeling grew in my chest when I saw him smile and nod his head.
“This is really good, Luce,” Lockwood said. “I can’t wait to read the rest of it.”
I beamed. “I just hope I can get it all down right.”
“I’m sure you can. Just make sure to make me sound really cool.”
“Oh boy, now the pressure’s on.”
We laughed and Lockwood leaned forward to kiss me. His hands cupped my face and I was reminded of Dr. Hart’s words, about how my friends had helped get me through everything. In that moment, I felt the best I had all day.
“Sorry,” Lockwood said as he stood up. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk more later?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Good,” and he leaned down to kiss me once more, just for good measure. “I love you. And I want you to know, I'll always be willing to help you on a case, if that's what you decide to do."
I nodded. “I love you too.”
I watched him walk out the door and took another look around the room. This is it , I thought, the beginning . I read through the one sentence I’d written. Satisfied, I put my pencil to the paper once more and began to write.