Lucy woke around 8:00 AM, having slept in due to the mild exhaustion from the night before. Speaking with ghosts was tiring, especially those unwilling to communicate. One ghost she wished was less eager to speak was the skull. Though it had been quiet in previous weeks, its insults and crude comments had recently increased.
"Oh, Lucy. You look horrible," the skull remarked in its usual judgmental tone.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, rolling her eyes and ignoring its abrasive commentary.
Despite helping them survive the Fittes building collapse and showing almost a hint of kindness during that time, the skull hadn't grown any friendlier. Since being freed from the jar, now slightly charred from the explosion, it acted differently, though it rarely appeared in form. It had, however, managed to startle George on more than one occasion. Lucy was mainly impressed that the skull hadn't tried to harm him—at least, not yet.
Heading downstairs, Lucy was greeted by the smell of Holly making pancakes and bacon. George was already at the table, eyeing the food as though it might vanish if he looked away. Lockwood was seated on the couch in the sitting room, and when he noticed Lucy, he waved her over.
"Hey, whatcha reading?" she asked, noting the thick book open in his lap.
"Oh, nothing. Just something I picked up. It's honestly quite boring," he replied with a laugh.
They shared a smile as Lucy sank back into the couch cushion. Her back ached, she was slouching, and her face was likely still smeared with dirt from the night before. She thought back to the skull's snarky comment that lingered in her mind.
Last night...
"Oh, Lucy, you look tired. Your face is horrid. I wonder if Lockwood will still like you after seeing you like that," the skull had taunted in a brutal tone.
She sat up straighter, stood, and decided it was time for a shower. After freshening up, she returned to the table where breakfast was ready. She noticed the tablecloth, the cream-colored "thinking cloth," now covered with scribbled drawings, notes, and occasional insults. It brought to mind the older thinking cloths stored in the basement. She loaded her plate with pancakes slathered in butter and maple syrup, alongside crispy bacon, and joined the others for breakfast. After eating, they gathered in the living room, where Holly mentioned that a client was expected in half an hour.
They tidied up the sitting room and set out tea and biscuits for the guest. Right on time, a young man, around twenty, arrived. Dressed in a suit reminiscent of Lockwood's and wearing an expensive watch, he appeared to come from a wealthy background.
"Hello—" Lockwood began, but the man interrupted.
"Yes, hello, now that we're done with that, I came here for a reason," the man said abruptly, taking a seat.
Holly and Lucy exchanged a look; neither was impressed with his attitude, though they hoped he had a well-paying job to offer.
"Alright then. Who are you, and what do you need?" Lockwood asked, his tone polite but edged with annoyance.
"I'm Sir Creed. I own Creed Iron. I'm sure you've heard of me," he said, radiating self-importance.
Lucy couldn't resist. "No, I haven't. Are you local?" she asked, hoping to puncture his confidence. Of course, she knew who Creed Iron was—they were the fourth-largest ironworks company in London.
Mr. Creed's smile faded, and Lucy had to stifle a laugh as he glared at her.
"Well, anyhow," he paused, gathering himself. "I need your help with a ghost that's been disturbing my factory workers."
He reached for a biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Alright. What other information do you have?" Lucy asked, intrigued by the prospect of a case involving Creed Iron.
"Not much—uh, they said it's a young boy. He wanders around the factory, repeating his death loop," Creed explained, though his tone was hesitant.
Something about his explanation felt off, but Lucy let it slide for the moment, focusing on gathering details. After about forty-five minutes, they'd discussed nearly everything.
"Well, I'll have to discuss this with my people," Lockwood said as he subtly ushered Creed toward the door. "If we decide to take on the case, I'll call to let you know."
Lockwood closed the door after Creed left, and Lucy noticed the look on his face. She wasn't the only one who sensed that Mr. Creed hadn't been entirely honest.
Authors note: oh here we go!!!!
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The House of Sorrows
Fanfiction(This is a fanfic dedicated to locklyle) *After the events of The Empty Grave* After the downfall of both the Rottwell and Fittes agencies, Lockwood and co. went back to "normal" life. In the following months after Penelope/Marissa was killed, and t...
