Under the Floorboards (and In the Walls)

Tripping in the Dark-Lockwood

"No wonder they were so angry. I'd be too if I thought I was getting food and I got dirt. That's like when I'm looking forward to supper and then Lucy is cooking."

Lucy tripped George.

We were trudging to the Fittes Furnace together. An idea of mine. We needed to spend quality time together after a case. We use to take turns taking the source. Either that night or in the morning. Going to the furnace together is perfect because emotions would be tamed in the exercise. And since the case was fresh in our minds, we could offer each other "constructive criticism." "Plus," I had told my unwilling employees, "If something went wrong, we can talk through our feelings and it'll be like therapy." I recently got a book on "10 Ways to Keep Your Agents Happy and Healthy." But I was worried I needed to rethink the whole thing. All that had happened so far was George and Lucy nearly killing each other each time.

"How many sightings did you say were seen in the park?" I asked George.

"Seven. And you know that already."

He was right. I was just trying to keep Lucy and George from fighting about the case any longer.

"Maybe if we go out tomorrow night as well, we'll bag another one. It could be that all seven are from the serial killer."

"There's only one way to find out," Lucy offered.

"I'm really not comfortable with that, Luce."

"Is that your problem?"

"It kinda is. It's one thing to listen to a death loop but lately it's seemed... a little more than that. I don't like it."

"He's saying that you get possessed." George said flatly.

"No, I am not saying that it just is a little bit of a... well yeah. Possessed."

Lucy fell silent and began knocking a stick against a metal fence as we passed.

"Take tonight for example." I said. While I didn't like to sound like I was criticizing Lucy, this was important. "You said he buried "you". Maybe you don't remember but..."

"I know it sounds weird," Lucy broke in, "But there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine. It's only while I'm in the death loop. They show me what happened, but I observe it from their point of view. After I get out of it, I'm fine." She tossed the stick into a bush.

"All the same," I concluded, "It's dangerous and Lucy," I waited until she met my eye. "I want your solemn promise that you wont ever contact a ghost like that unless George and I know about it and can take the proper precautions."

"That's ridiculous! I don't need a babysitter."

"Maybe not, but I am trying to keep this company healthy and happy, and this is the way it's gonna go."

Lucy remained sullen. I tried a compromise. "Do what you want in your own time, but during a case, we're all depending on each other, and I need to know that you're not going to be willingly possessed, even temporarily."

"Fine."

"Is that a promise."

"I said fine."

That was probably as good as I was going to get.

We were only a couple blocks from the Fittes furnaces. Although I did my best not to show it, a leader had to be strong, I was utterly exhausted. I could not wait to get back home and collapse in bed. Maybe a piece of toast first but that would be it. And tea of course, but tea is always a given. Last week Lucy bought some really nice tea, a Darjeeling, and made it up very well. She always remembers not to put sugar in my tea. George can never remember. Or he does it on purpose. He probably does it on purpose. I try to track how Lucy likes her tea but it's hard because it depends on her mood. So first, I have to read her mood and then remember the correct tea. For example, when she's really happy... But I had run away with my thoughts. And it nearly cost us our lives.

We were crossing the street when a truck swung around the corner. The headlights were blinding. Careening toward us I had a split second to act. I shoved George backward out of the path of the truck. Wrapping my arms around Lucy, I flung us forward onto the ground. Rolling together we barely missed the tires.

The truck didn't slow but sped ahead down the street. I watched after it, breathing hard, the license plate was gone.

"Why couldn't you have kicked Lucy and hugged me? Maybe I wanted a hug." George was still sprawled on the street. He glared at me.

"Don't be ridiculous, George. I can lift Lucy, I'm not sure I can say the same thing about you."

We climbed shakily to our feet. Lucy clutched my arm, supporting me. My ankle throbbed a little bit but other than that we were good.

"Did anyone get a good look..." But I didn't finish my sentence. Footsteps ran down the sidewalk toward us. I whipped my head around to see a figure in black. He was upon us. I reached for my rapier, but the man grabbed Lucy's pack from where she had dropped it several paces away and ran off into the darkness. I made after him. I mean, I made it about three steps before my foot gave out. And I crumbled to the ground. Pathetic. Lucy tripped over me.

Lucy and George helped me up as we watched the figure disappear beyond the ghost lights.

"What was in your pack?" I asked Lucy. But I already knew.

She paled. The source.

I swore. Which I try not to do when I'm angry because it's unprofessional.

"Do you think it was a relic man?" Lucy asked.

"Who else wants sources?" George answered.

I sighed. "Let's call a nightcab. No reason to go to Fittes now."

George and Lucy got in the cab, but I hung back. "You guys go ahead. I need to report this to DEPRAC."

Lucy smiled at me, or at least I think she did. Maybe it was a grimace. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. "We'll have a breakfast waiting for you."

"You mean I will. You're not touching my stove. I don't know what you did to it last time but it..."

I limped along in the ghostlight. There goes my epic story of a serial killer in the park.

Uff da. Another chapter in. It's a lot harder to do Lockwood's pov. Maybe because we never got him in the book? Also, what do you think of these chapter lengths? Should I break them up more or should they be longer? Let me know! Love you guys.