South London Forever // George Karim

-libraries and ghostly flames-

George had found the chopped wood that Chai had taken from the metal bucket and hidden around the house.

Well, Freddie assumed that, because when she woke up with a stiff neck and throbbing limbs, the fire was crackling away in the fireplace. She heard a log fall and sparks shoot up the chimney, another wave of comforting warmth washed over her like a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders.

Freddie had seen a fire once, the rare occasion someone had been burned to death, trapped in a workshop and unable to escape as smoke filled their lungs. Somehow, that fire had become a source, and would've gone on flaming and smouldering forever if they hadn't been called over to figure out which part of it was the source.

That was how they got their business as an unofficial agency, save locals on the south side of London that knew them and would rather Lockwood and Freddie poking around in their business then government officials. DEPRAC would call the house phone and report a source they couldn't find, or maybe something like the fire emergency, no one could tell which part of the scene was hiding a type two.

That was where Freddie came in.

She could stroll along the pavement up to Barnes, and then look at the scene of the crime, but she'd only see blood-stained rapiers, salt bombs on invisible belts, chainmail blankets tied up neatly with strings and ropes she couldn't see. Then she'd spot the source, floating somewhere in between the tools and weapons. Maybe it was under a floorboard, or hidden in a wall, maybe it was one of the twenty mugs lined up in the kitchen, or even a little part of the fire burning in behind a wall of thick smog.

Freddie would point it out, Barnes would send some orders, no one would get hurt, and then Ernie would pick up the pair. A pay check for her skills would arrive in the mail two days later.

It seemed either Lockwood and co were dragged into high stakes cases, ghost touched agents and unknown sources, or they were once again telling Benny down the street it was just racoons in his garbage bins, and not the souls of the departed.

The small ghostly white fire had been beautiful, and she was lucky to see it, but still... She doubted meadows of flowers and creeks with frogs and love and colours would become sources anytime soon, so they'd have to stay in her imagination.

Freddie sighed, and stretched her neck out, feeling and hearing joints pop. How long had she been sleeping up right in the squishy armchair?

She reached out cautiously with her left hand and traced the bandage on her right with light fingertips, it was dry and clean, even though she could feel a throbbing throughout her palm. Then Freddie wiggled her toes, the slightest movement sending a shiver of pain up through her nerves.

Then she realised something was weighing down on her other foot and felt Chai's smooth fur tickling her ankle. She reached down a little bit and stroked the top of his head, listening to his tail thump on the carpet twice. He was sprawled across the rugs in front of her, but he bounced up quickly, head in her lap and tail wagging ecstatically.

"You're awake."

Freddie turned to the doorway of the library; her hand threaded through tufts the golden retriever's fur. The smell of matcha tea drifted over, and she smiled weakly at George when she heard him setting a cup down on the coffee table. "I'm awake."

"Are," he shuffled awkwardly, and Freddie tipped her head back with a wince when another spike of pain shot through her foot. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live."