𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮
In a world overrun by souls coming back to haunt the living, where young girls and boys are the only ones who have the talent to fight this rising problem. A world in which being touched by a ghost is a death sentence.
Sophie...
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chapter eight, travel sickness and cold feet.
TWO DAYS WAS MOST DEFINITELY NOT ENOUGH TIME for the agents to prepare themselves for this case. By the time George and Lucy had finally gathered enough information with their various trips to the library, the third day already caught up with them, making the young group as anxious as ever.
The four of them had managed to nab a table seat on the very busy evening train, although Sophie did have to fight George for the window seat, only winning when she threatened to vomit on the boy. She was never the best at travelling, the girl always seemed to get travel sick on long journeys. Thankfully though the train ride from Marylebone station to old Combe Carey station was only around forty minutes, so it wasn't completely awful.
The group were already about thirty minutes or so into the journey, Sophie doing her best to keep her mind busy by either watching the built-up cities slowly transcend into acres upon acres of fields or by actually taking interest in the piles of research the boy beside her had laid out for the four.
"The hall's had a bad rep for centuries," George pointed out watching Sophie reach for one of the many articles in front of them. "There's been many strange phenomena ranging from satanic monks, the long line of tragic deaths of each owner, a 'Screaming Staircase' and this so-called 'Red Room'," Sophie's eyes inspected the page in her hand, the article explaining the unfortunate events of a group of Fittes agents who visited the estate at the start of the problem. George point towards a polaroid photo, his finger landing on the smallest of the bunch, a young boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen. "This kid, Samaran Pandey is still unaccounted for."
"No shortage of visitors for us so," Lockwood quipped.
Lucy who had been listening intently slouched back in her seat, the one across from Sophie. "Jesus Christ we're doomed," her northern accent more prominent than ever.
"No, we're not," Lockwood assured glancing at his team with a steady stare. "We're the best agency in London, we're going to be okay. We finally found a job big enough for our talents."
"That title was self-imposed by you," Sophie countered.
George's head whipped towards the older girl, his eyes narrowing behind the frames. "What happened to you? You used to be the positive one."
The girl raised a brow, leaning her head against the window which was softly shuddering under her from the speed. "It's hard to see the positive side of death."
"No one's dying," Lockwood sighed frustrated with his team's lack of enthusiasm. No one decided to fight back and instead, they remained silent keeping to themselves for the last few minutes.
