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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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 Erin for the location of where the three members of Lockwood & Co. would be meeting this elusive man about a ghost problem. She'd had her suspicions when Anthony had led both her and George through London, straight up Victoria Street, to the large, gray mammoth that was the Fairfax Iron Company.
Despite the specialty of the company being iron resources, inside was surprisingly wooden. The three made their way past a reception desk, who paid little mind to them upon seeing the rapiers on their hips, and entered the lift at the end of the hallway. Erin swallowed, pressing her back to the wall of the chamber. She breathed as evenly as she could as the lift started to ascend, her stomach dipping in response.
Anthony was holding a piece of newspaper in his hands, reading it with interest and George stood hunched against the opposite wall. Erin's hands reached behind her, for the metal rails around the chamber, and gripped them tightly, her knuckles white. She'd faced down plenty of things that would terrify many into the next life, yet one fear she could never quite conquer was that of lifts.
She just had montages of herself plummeting to her death in one. She didn't trust them as far as she could throw them. It was ridiculous, but she figured fearing lifts was better than fearing the thing she'd been trained to hunt.
"So your big, radical plan is a job at Fairfax Iron, for work we can't legally do?" George inquired of Anthony as the lift had gone up a few floors.
Anthony glanced up from the newspaper. "George, this negativity, it's why I don't tell you things in advance," he informed their researcher matter-of-factly.
Needing a distraction from the feeling of being inside a metal death-trap, Erin grabbed the newspaper out of Anthony's hands and started to read over the advertisement that he had circled in blue ink. "Agents required for unusual supernatural investigation," she read off. "Money commensurate with danger." She paused as she read the instruction of where to meet the individual, then glanced at Anthony and George. "I'm guessing that means a lot of danger."
"Better be at least sixty grand's worth," George muttered, taking the paper from her next.
The lift chimed and the doors opened. A few older employees stepped into it, and George moved to stand on Anthony's right, against the wall, while Erin stayed to his left, where she had been. The doors closed and the lift began moving again, prompting the brunette to close her eyes and breathe through her nose slowly.
"When we get up there, we need to be at our absolute best," Anthony informed them, keeping his voice soft as to not disturb the other passengers. "Totally professional. So I'll do the talking."
"I saw Sir John Fairfax once," George stated anecdotally. "He donated my school's iron defenses and gave a speech in assembly and everything. Miss Kingston got her hair done special."
