A Ghost in the Guest Room

Chapter 4

"Lockwood!" I said for the thousandth time to the still boy.

We were both safe behind the iron line, me having dragged him in after slicing and dicing the girl. Even after she dissipated, the ghost-lock kept a firm hold on Lockwood's mind. I realized I would have to leave him to find the Source. Lovely.

I heard a crash and looked up. Our dear friend had reformed, this time throwing things around in the bathroom as Greer mentioned in his initial report.

Obviously a Type Two. Obviously not a one-agent job. But what was I supposed to do with Lockwood? 

A brief and disturbingly practical thought crossed my mind: cut my losses, go home for the night, and try again tomorrow. I shook my head; there had to be another way.

Suddenly it hit me. The truth was staring me in the face! The cold spot I had felt earlier: the Source wasn't the bathtub, it was whatever was under the floorboards there. I had already laced the doorway with salt and iron, but the individual granules must not have been enough.

I pulled the crowbar out of my duffel bag and evaluated the situation. The ghost girl: raging in the bathroom. The Source: most likely under the floorboards. Me: not nearly fast enough but loaded with enough equipment to give her a fast ride to the Other Side. I had a chance here.

Of course, there's always the possibility that the Source isn't under the floorboards and the cold spot is just a cold spot, but I didn't have the luxury of indulging that worry.

I looped a chain across my shoulders, sagging under its weight, and brandished my crowbar. Go big or go home. God, Lockwood's rubbing off on me!

There was about a ten-second time frame for me to set up a chain circle before my ghosty friend sensed me. I took a flying leap over the chains and bounded (not very far, granted) to the cold spot. Not even the best-trained Fittes agent could have looped the iron faster than I did then. Clamping my jaw closed to keep my teeth from chattering, I started prying up boards where the cold was strongest.

With another unholy scream, the ghost girl passed straight through the bathroom door, hissing as she felt the presence of the iron.

"Look, I'm sorry for your loss, but you have got to get it together," I griped. "We all lose something in life, we all experience grief, but you don't see me offing myself and haunting old men!"

I was having no luck with the Source. All that I found under the floor was grime. I kept blindly ripping up pieces of wood, praying to Marissa Fittes and any god I could think of that I'd find it. Suddenly, I spotted a flash of white in a small cavity. Inside, there was a moth-eaten photo. Without stopping to study the Source, I slipped it into the chain net.

Immediately, the girl stopped prowling outside my chain circle and almost...smiled? She faded, faded, faded until all I could see was a smudge of light. All at once, it winked out. The pressure in the room and in my head lightened and I felt as if I could breathe again.

Slowly getting to my feet, I walked back over to where Lockwood was slumped over. A twitch in his fingers, an intake of breath; his head snapped up and he looked me in the face. A shadow passed over his dark eyes and cleared, and like the sun coming out, he was back.

"Oh lovely, you're awake," I said sweetly. "Mind explaining what the hell that was?"

~

Boom. Another chapter done, albeit a much shorter chapter. I don't have very many left to go, but thanks so much for the support!

Shoutout to my super awesome friend Sauce who is definitely overestimating my writing skills.  You still have the worst taste in books.

<3 Clxmentine