Lockwoods key

Chapter 5

C/W: Talk of food, diets, starving.

"I'm sorry duckie, Cregg likes to make crude jokes at the worst times." Flo sighed. For the past hour she'd been trying to comfort the weeping girl to very little success. The sobs had turned to sniffles now however with the help of some strong tea. "And Lockwood is a stubborn bastard. Always has been ever since he was a tiddler."

"How have you put up with him for so long?" She asked.

"This." Flo proudly revealed a bulging bag of liquorice, offering one to the younger girl. Her blue eyes creased slightly as the girl ate it tentatively, before settling on enjoyment and proceeding to eat another three pieces.

"I never got sweets in the basement. And the Fittes Agency put me on a diet so I wasn't allowed sweets then either."

"Ya poor lass, here," She handed her the bag, "have as many as ya want. I get a new bag every time Lockwood comes down 'ere. You should eat the lot now."

Chrissy nodded, smiling gently to herself. Despite everything she'd made a friend. A real friend who wanted to look out for her.

"Thanks Flo. Maybe I should apologise though, I think I gave him a bit of a scare."

"True. I haven't seem him that ruffled since... well, ever. You really did a number on him. Tell you what though." the woman leaned in close, lowering her voice.
"I've been looking for an exscuse to visit to see a friend of mine. How 'bout you join me and we can get this rubbish over with."

"Fittes has got a hawks eye on them, I'd never make it." Chrissy sighed, picking at the bags label. "Could you tell him though? That I'm sorry. He's just tryna protect his friends after all."

"Of course duckie, I'll give him a good hit 'round the head while I'm at it too."

The pair giggled, an unusually childish indulgence for Chrissy. A very enjoyable one however.

Back at Portland Road:

"Fuck." Lockwood grunted, hand still having to tighten more on his rod as his hand ran its length.

That sticky stain of honey still had yet to come off his rapier completely.

Giving in he tossed the dust rag to the side, placing the blade down as he lied back. The second he closed his eyes however he could feel her tears running down her face, the warmth and pressure pushing into his chest.

Christine Lace, a very delicate name for a possibly delicate girl. As fragile as a bomb. And god help Lucy if she got in range of her.

Guilt left his chest hollow but he couldn't budge. To give up on Lucy was to give up on his whole team, and he wanted more than anything to continue his parents legacy. That being said, none of them were getting any younger. Maybe it was time for a change in careers, get a small dealership trading in ghosthunting gear somewhere or becoming a haunt walk tour guide. He still couldn't believe those things were legal already however.

As The Problem grew as did the amount of tourists it brought in, allowing many to comfortably line their pockets with the profits made.

A knock at his door snapped him out of his wondering however.

"Lockwood? It's dinner time. You coming down?" Lucy asked, voice barely audible. A twinge of annoyance made him clench his jaw.

"I'll be down in a bit."

He heard Lucy sigh, her knowing that meant he'd get the food when they'd all gone to bed. She couldn't be surprised however, it had been like this for the past few days now.

Once her footsteps had gotten quieter he rested his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes as he tried to think of how he could fix the situation.

Two hours later and he still had nothing.

Once the clock had hit 8pm he decided to give up for the day. The others were out while George was in bed, so he was sure he'd be left alone. No such luck however as the minute he reached for the plate of food in the fridge, the doorbell sounded.  Windchimes rattling slightly he opened the door only to be met with one of the most sour scowls he had ever encountered. None other than Kipps stood on his doorstep.

"What?"

"There's been a development." Kipps huffed, not waiting for an invite before pushing past. "A report came in about the missing girl. Apparently she was spotted only a mile away walking down the canal. Luckily she's a bit odd- looking so she stands out. You've been asked to come with us to check it out."

"And leave George by himself? Not a chance."

"He won't be alone, good old Flo will look after 'im." An accented voice chimed up. The grubby figure of Flo bustled past him.

"Flo? How did you get in?" Lockwood asked, rubbing his temple. At least this meant George would be as happy enough as he could be with a possibly possessed woman running around London.

"Don't worry. He'll be fine. Lets go." Kipps said, fiddling with his rapier. Lockwood grabbed his coat, shrugging it over his shoulders, the black fabric flapping around his ankles. 

Outside was dark, the gas lights allowing for sharp shadows to spill int the nooks and crannies of alleyways. They turned off Portland Row in silence, both listening out for any disruptions to the solitude. There were some shades lingering but nothing else, Lockwood unable to pick up on any stronger or more malevolent sounds. Pale grey cobblestones soon turned to concrete pavement under their feet as they got closer to the center of town, the houses larger with double doors and pillars and iron fences as tall as the two men surrounding them. 

"In there." Kipps finally said, stopping to point at a baby blue house with a 'for sale' sign standing upright. It had white wooden pillars and balconies at the windows, only one light in the top left bedroom turned on.
"They think she's hiding in there. Vernon and Godwin will be here in a minute but feel free to go on ahead and scout the area."

While Kipps busied himself with the equipment scattered outside, Lockwood approached cautiously, one hand on his rapier while his eyes flicked between the open door and lit window. The house itself smelled slightly musty but was overall in good condition, with clean white sheets covering the furniture. He tried the light switch. Nothing.

As he turned to explore the living room however, a creak from upstairs caught his attention. The Fittes agents wouldn't be here for a while. He knew he had time to kill.