Lockwoods key

Chapter 8

It had been two days since Lockwood had last come out of his room at all. Not even food or a case could bring him out. On his bed he remained, lying there with his shoes and coat still on. Occasionally he slept, but most of the time he did nothing but stare at the ceiling, no feeling in his legs or hands or chest.

His dreams blurred, at one point seeming more like hallucinations of blood and pained screams ripping from a girl's mouth. The team was there too, and his parents looked down at him with the same passive faces of those in the picture. He was a child, running pasts Limbless and Wraiths ad Spectures as strangers voices called out his name, lanterns winking in the darkness as they searched for him.

In his dream he stumbled, jolted awake as he fell off the side of his bed from thrashing around too much.

He felt small, the coat and duvet swamping him.

Apart from his gasps the house was silent, the others out on another mission. Since the Fittes company had fallen from grace work had been non- stop for them, and even without Lockwood they were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

They weren't the only ones seizing opportunity however, a gentle tapping sounding on the window. With a groan Lockwood got to his feet painfully, joints aching as pain shot through his stomach. It lessened however when a warmth appeared inside him, a tiny flame of crimson as two orange eyes glowed brightly. She was hanging onto his ladder of ivy, swaying a little as he unlocked the window.

"Evening." She smiled, pushing her foot through to pull herself forwards and grab hold of the frame. He stood back in silence.

"Flo said she heard you'd been M.I.A, so I came to check in."

"You make it sound like I've gotten lost in a jungle."

"The mind can be a wild place."

The girl sighed and stretched, then brushed down the pollen from her skirt and sat crossed legged on the mattress, apparently not too disturbed by the mess. Not really knowing what to do Lockwood ligered by the window, duvet wrapped around him. He felt embarrassed, shy almost.

"You want me to leave?"

"No!" He responded, causing a smirk to appear on Chrissy's face.

"Don't be shy then. I don't bite. Promise."

"It's not that I'm just... I smell. And i've been wearing the same clothes for the past several days. And my rooms a mess and-"

"And here I am. Sat on your bed wanting to talk to you. Although I would advise you to take a shower and change for comforts sake."

"Yeah, that does sound nice. I'll be back in a minute."

Lockwood actually took thirty minutes, a good ten spent trying to tame his hair. It was to no avail however, but he found he didn't mind when he came back and Chrissy looked at it with a poorly hidden laugh.

"You really should be more careful," he warned, stretching before sitting on the other side of the bed, "it would be easy for someone to spot you."

"I know London better than any of those suckers. It ain't hard to slip past."

"You lived in London for a while then?"

There was a moment of silence, but just as Lockwood was about to apologize for overstepping the line, a smile slipped onto her face, eyes warm.

"I was brought here a few years ago by the officer that led the investigation. She had a small apartment that she let out and allowed me to stay in it. Once I got the job at Fittes I moved into their lodgings on the campus."

"She sounds like a good woman."

"She was the best. I was even in her will after she passed. Had three kids but still managed to squeeze me in."

"I'm sorry she passed.

"Eh, it's death. After the first few it all became the same to me. Funeral was interesting though. I'd never been to one before."

Faded memories of his parents funeral passed through his mind, causing him to sigh heavily and nod in agreement.

"My sisters funeral was the first I attended. I don't remember much, just asking why the coffin was empty."

"Is she the one in the room across the hall?"

Lockwood frowned, eyes snapping to hers.

"You can feel it?"

"Of course I can. I'm a conduit after all. One of the vast amounts of talents I possess is all the senses. I could see the ghost light under the door, feel the cold, hear the sound of faint whispering. Could even taste... oranges? Yes I believe it was oranges."

Another moment passed, this time Chrissy's face dropped in worry. Her gifts were strong, but the impact they could have was even stronger. It was obvious the sisters death was a tragic one. But still, if they were sharing memories of the buried past she was just innocently sharing information.

"That does make sense." Lockwood nodded, motioning thoughtfully to a picture hanging on a wall. It was a painting of an orange tree, set atop a craggy hill- side. "She loved painting them. Ever since Marianne's exhibit went up at Kew she was fascinated with the colour and texture of them."

"Did she ever get to see one in real life?"

"Not a proper one from Asia or anything. Just the small ones."

"You should build an alter for her. I'm guessing her grave isn't a very satisfying place to visit."

He nodded silently, a vision of a small table decorated with all her favourite objects coming to mind. It wasn't something his parents may have necessarily approved of, but the idea brought a feeling of comfort to a withered part inside him. The pain became less sharp, turning to a soft ache as the image formed more clearly in his head.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile properly." Chrissy's voice broke through. Lockwood laughed a little awkwardly, hand running through his hair.

"Most people prefer the star- studded million- watts smile." He confessed.

"Ah yes, your charms are notorious Lockwood. Many an agent at Fittes dreamed of bumping into you while on patrol."

"Alas I don't think any of them could turn my head quite the way you did Christina."

In response she rolled her eyes to the smooth chivalrous persona being brought to the surface after a moment of awkwardness, knowing that any deeper conversations were to be put to the side for now. It was rime for business.

"Unfortunately I turn many heads. And one particularly ugly one has begun to pop up more reacently."

"Oh?"

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a thin folder from her shoulder bag.

"And over twenty people are going to die by his hand in the next six months if we don't do something about it."