Apollo's Ghost-Hunting Daughter

Chapter 5

A.J. LOCKWOOD & CO., INVESTIGATORS

AFTER DARK, RING BELL AND WAIT BEYOND THE IRON LINE.

I stepped forward and rang the bell. Moments later, the door was opened by a blond boy with large glasses. He stared for a few seconds longer than necessary before shouting over his shoulder into the house.

"We we're expecting guests, right?"

"Let her in, George," Anthony called back.

There were footsteps in the hall as George moved aside and allowed me into the house. It had changed little since my last visit years ago. Exotic ghost paraphanalia hung on the walls, the carpet was the same, and I saw familiar books stuffed on the shelves through the open door of the library.

"You look terrible," Anthony said, emerging from the kitchen.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile. "I got sequestered by DEPRAC on my night off. Don't recommend."

"What on earth were you doing?"

"Lock-in karaoke night," I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I think I would rather spend the evening with Kipps than go to that."

"What about if you knew a Tendy agent would fall through the ceiling onto your table in a crowded pub with a dangerous Source?" I countered.

"Yeah, I'd still take Kipps. Did that actually happen?"

I gave a quick recap of the night. Despite Anthony having mentioned him twice, I wisely decided to omit all details concerning Kipps. As I talked, we walked to the kitchen where Lucy was waiting, and I was finally introduced to George Cubbins.

"How has business been?" I asked, trying not to look too closely at the crude, repulsive drawings on the tablecloth as I sat down beside Lucy. Anthony was making tea.

"Steadily picking up, wouldn't you say, George?"

"Yes, and the cases are getting more interesting. I spent the last two days at the archives doing research for our latest client."

The dynamic of Lockwood and Co. finally made sense. Anthony was the charismatic leader, George the informed researcher, and Lucy the voice of reason. Just the right balance for an affective team.

"Enough about work," Anthony decided when George's spiel was finally over. "What's going on in your life?"

I thought for a moment because, really, all I did was work.

"Kane's coming," I realized. "For my birthday on Monday."

Kane was my second eldest and closest surviving brother. He was really the only reason I would ever return to Ireland.

"And Grady?"

"Is getting married in the spring, I believe. Apparently, Ma's thrilled."

Grady was seven years older than I. It wasn't that we didn't get along, we just didn't have any common ground to stand on. When I was seven, he was fourteen and wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't leave home long after that. Since, we'd communicated with the occasional letter and interacted in person twice.

"How did you end up in London, if you don't mind me asking?" George said.

"I don't mind at all. My family doesn't have a history with Talents, so it was a bit of a surprise. Ireland doesn't have a ghost problem, but we do have ghosts. It became quite clear growing up that I had Sight, and when I was eight, my parents shipped me off to an old family friend, Nigel Sykes."