Shot At Combe Carey Hall

Dreams

George was sitting in his chair in the kitchen when they returned home, the ghost-jar sitting in front of him devoid of any movement or activity.

"Ah you found it." Lucy said sitting down in her chair, Lockwood placed her new bottle of pain killers on the table next to her.

"Yes, thanks to this." George tossed the notepad Lucy had been writing in onto the table near Lockwood, he picked it up and read the brief conversation. "Why didn't you tell us it spoke again."

"You don't actually believe I want to fire you right?" Lockwood said setting the paper down.

"I don't know what to believe from that thing. Either way we should keep the tap closed and keep him covered at all times, wouldn't want him eavesdropping on your gossip about me now would we." Lucy snapped back in response.

"Oh come on you know it wasn't like that." George rolled his eyes at her.

"Of course you were quite the topic of discussion last night. We had just found out you can talk to Type Three Visitors, and as for your position in the company. You're not going any where, unless you'd like to that is. We were actually worrying that you'd leave the company, you could be so successful at Fittes or Rotwell."

Once again Lucy felt her anger soften to irritation and embarrassment at her perhaps unjust anger.

"You know I can't stand those hoity toity Fittes and Rotwell bunch." She said with a huff sitting back in her chair.

"Yes but you also say you can't stand us some days." George said.

"It's mostly just you I can't stand actually."

"In any case Lucy, yes we talked about you a bit and yes the thought that you might take the jar and leave to go be successful at a bigger agency had crossed our minds but I know you're smarter than that, those adults would only slow you down." Lockwood smiled at her and she felt even more silly now.

"Well. Glad we sorted that out then. If you'll excuse me I think I'll go rest my leg."

With her pain killers in hand Lucy hobbled into the living room, she plopped onto the couch typically reserved for clients and set her bottle of pills on the coffee table. After taking one she sunk her full weight into the couch, let her head fall back and her eyes shut.

She felt her breath slow, her muscles relax and her mind drift very far away from her body. The sounds of Lockwood and George in the kitchen faded and all became still and quiet. For a fleeting moment before sleep took her Lucy thought the sensation was eerily familiar to that of her secondary Talent; Touch.

When she touched an object connected to a haunting she could see and hear psychic echoes from the past, the sensations were often disorientating and in those moments she felt herself being closed off from the mortal world and taken ahold of by the memories of the dead.

She felt a similar experience as she drifted off to sleep and was taken ahold of by her own memories.

Her dreams flung her into the past and she found herself back in the Mythburn Mill but as all things are in dreams her memory was distorted.

There were her friends, the poor souls that died that night and she was happy to see them again she reached out to the nearest one but found that when she touched him he faded away. Frantically she reached for the next one but they were all disappearing the moment she drew near, left alone and confused in the dark of the Mill she remembered her supervisor.

Marching out of the Mill she headed toward him where he sat on his stump with the pinprick of the dull red glow from his cigarette being the only color in sight for miles but as she got closer his silhouette only grew darker in the already black night. She stopped a few paces away from him as the outline of his figure began to rise, she looked down to her belt searching for her rapier which was strangely missing, when she looked back up she was now lost in a different darkness, in a damp and musty old room.

She recognized this as the well room at the bottom of the screaming staircase in Combe Carey Hall. The terrible monks that had nearly killed her and her friends just days ago were there plastered against the walls, for reasons she didn't understand but was greatful for they didn't reach out to her. Just stood there watching. Waiting. The room was still, the silence was heavy and oppressive in stark contrast to how it really was last time she was there.

Though she knew it was foolish Lucy stood at the well, peering down into the darkness. As she watched the darkness a voice began to beckon her, she saw the glimpse of a face she recognized but couldn't name. She leaned in closer and closer until she toppled in but she didn't fall long before hitting a floor. Not knowing how or why, she was standing now in a familiar library a familiar man aiming a familiar gun at her.

Someone was talking, it could have been her or George or even the gun for all she knew because she couldn't make out any words just a tone, an angry tone. There was a flash, a bang, a scream and then she was in a hospital. She sat up and found that Lockwood was sitting next to her, he held her hand and for the first time in her whole dream she was relieved to recognize someone. She squeezed his hand and it made an awful squishing sound. When she looked down she saw that her hands were coated in blood, blood was dripping from the ceiling all around her like it had in the Red Room. It streamed down Lockwood's pale face.

"Lucy? Wake up." George gave her arm a nudge.

"Just leave her George, lord knows she needs the rest." Lockwood was standing in the doorway watching Lucy as she lay on the couch, she had fallen over in a heap with a leg and an arm hanging over the edge of the couch, her other arm was tucked under her head like a pillow, her chest raised and lowered with quick shallow breaths.

"She needs dinner." George gave her another nudge, she sighed and muttered in response.

"What's she said?"

"She said she's drowning." George stood up straight and adjusted his glasses.

"Hm guess the doctor was right about the higher dosage making her a bit loopy. Leave her, she'll probably wake in a bit and join us."