𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 | (adj.) "Otherworldly."
In an alternate version of present-day Britain, ghosts who are deadly to the touch have been rising from their graves for the past fifty years. Adults cannot sense the ghosts, but children can, so teenagers hav...
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 Yard was incredibly silent and tense.
Anthony had never met Erin's father. He'd only heard of him in the passing comments and limited stories that Erin would tell him of her family. He knew that he had been a good man, but something had led him astray from his wife at one point and it created a horribly tense environment in the home when they had tried to work things out. That was when Erin had come to Portland Row one September night a year and a half prior, needing a place to stay.
He hadn't known whether or not her father was okay with it. Erin hadn't said and Anthony wasn't exactly sure that he cared. She had come to him in a time of need and they'd been best friends for a while at that point—he wasn't going to deny her a place to live. Judging by the earnest, steady glare that was set on Anthony in the back of the appointed cab, he could assume that Sergeant Preston Michalski wasn't impressed with the young agency head.
Erin was a statue the entire journey. She had agreed to go, willingly, but hadn't said a word to her father the entire time, nor had she said a word to Anthony. No one seemed in the mood to be making small talk anyway. Her fists were balled and sitting on her thighs, her eyes straight ahead and unfocused. Even as they exited the cab, pulling up to Scotland Yard and thus the DEPRAC headquarters for that part of London, her movements were stiff.
She was so tightly wound, so angry, it was radiating off of her in waves. She was betrayed and she was hurt and Anthony felt the bitterness of guilt in the back of his throat as he gazed at her. Preston led them through the building, walking through a couple of hallways and swinging metal doors before bringing them to a waiting room. It was the picture of pristine—white, marble flooring and sleek silver tables and black leather chairs. Erin kept her back straight as she sat in one of the chairs, feet planted on the floor. Her gaze was still ahead, still staring at nothing, not even acknowledging the fact that Anthony was next to her.
Still, as he sat beside her, he kept his voice low as he told her, "You'll be fine. I promise. Whatever it is, I'll deal with it."
Erin turned to look at him finally. Her face was set in a mask of no emotion, just staring right through him. It was almost as though she didn't even know him and though he'd never admit it, the prospect terrified him. He was afraid he'd gone too far and that he'd lost her. And he knew that with everything that he had, it would all mean nothing without her there with him.
As he pondered this, Preston descended the staircase alongside his boss, Inspector Montagu Barnes. Anthony stood immediately upon seeing the two near the chairs that he and Erin were sitting in as the brunette simply stayed seated.
"You can wait here," Barnes told Anthony, hands in his pockets nonchalantly. "It's Miss Michalski I need."
"No," Anthony refuted, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders obscured by his too-big black coat. "There's nothing you need to say to her that you can't say to me."
