PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER FOUR

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iv

he's hot what do i do

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ALICE FOLLOWED LOCKWOOD around the house. He led her out of the Parlour, glancing back at her as he walked up the stairs. "I can understand why you might think our setup's a little unusual, we're a newer agency - been registered only 4 months. We're accredited with DEPRAC, but we're not on their payroll like Fittes and Rottwell. We're independant and we like it that way."

As she climbed the stairs, Alice noticed various clippings of newspapers, framed or stuck to the wall. All of them featured Lockwood - from what she could see, he was a child prodigy. A master at swordplay.

Alice swallowed nervously.

If he found out about her, she'd probably be at the end of one of his swords.

"Do you have any supervisors?" she inquired, following him upstairs.

"No supervisors here, no adults - it's my company, hence the name," Lockwood revealed. He waited on the landing for her, turning slightly sideways and looking down as she came up the stairs.

Alice looked up at him, nodding, "That's nice."

He looked down at her, "You okay with that?"

She blinked, forcing herself to answer. "Yeah, mhmm." Truth be told, it was a blessing - the less people, especially the less people with responsiblity, the better her chances of surviving. She tore her gaze away from his, looking pointedly at the ground.

You've seen boys before, Alice. Pull yourself together.

Lockwood began to point out the rooms, "Bathroom, my room, George's room - I wouldn't go in there without knocking; I once walked in on him doing yoga. Completely naked." Lockwood revealed. "Got quite an unusual veiw."

Alice laughed weakly, "Oh that's horrible."

Lockwood chuckled, "Tell me about it." He began to go back down the stairs, but Alice turned, her eyes landing on another room - a solitary white door on an upper landing.

"What's that room?" she inquired.

"Oh, that's private, nothing particularily interesting," Lockwood shifted, "Come along, there's much more to see."

Alice got the feeling that he didn't want to talk about it, and so she kept her mouth shut and followed him. Everyone had their demons, and she wasn't one to judge.

And maybe some of us are the demons.

Alice forced the thought out of her head and followed him down the stairs. 

He pointed to another room, "The library is through there, and that one is Lucy's room - there's a bathroom on the floor just below this and its basically just hers, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you use it."

He continued downstairs, "And this is the most important room," he entered a cosy looking kitchen. Both George and Lucy were there - he looked to be cooking, while Lucy sat at the table drinking a cup of tea. Lockwood tapped the table, "This is our thinking cloth - we jot down memos, theories, trains of thought. It's a very important tool."

He wasn't lying, the tablecloth was covered in drawings and plans and notes. Alice stayed on the opposite side of the table to him, smiling as she watched him speak.

"I once located the bones of the Fenchurch Street Ghoul, by sketching over the plans on here, at 3 in the morning over cheese on toast," Lockwood revealed.

Alice chuckled, smiling and tilting her head, "Bravo."

Lockwood put a hand in his blazer pocket, chuckling and looking down.

Lucy and George exchanged a look.

"When a case is going badly and we're not talking to each other, it's good for exchanging insults too," Lucy declared. She picked up her teacup to reveal a drawing of a stickman and a note in capitals that read 'LOCKWOOD IS A DICK.'

"Now," Lockwood opened another door at the side of the kitchen, "The basement. Follow me."

Alice decended the spiral steps behind Lockwood in slight awe, "How many floors does this place have?"

Lockwood grinned, "There's an attic too, I'll show you that next." He made his way towards an office table and some filing cabinets, "Office and case files. George is obsessed with the history of the Problem, he's a facidious record keeper. It's a good thing too, I get brain ache trying to write a shopping list." He turned to her, leaning on one of the pillars, "What about you? Are you interested in the Problem?"

Alice shrugged, "Hmm, here and there. I'm more one for the conspiricy theories."

All witches know what caused the Problem.

She didn't like discussing the Problem very much at all. All those lives lost, all that chaos - all because of a conven's -  a witch's - power and hunger for vengance.

Nevermind the fact that they'd succeeded, and power increased tenfold for all Witches.

It had been years since Alice had felt guilty for it.

Lockwood turned, showing her towards the other half of the room. Alice put her hands in her pockets, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her knife.

"Training room," he announced, "Randomised smoke jets stimulating a variety of attack and defence patterns."

And then jets of smoke barelled towards her.

Without thinking, Alice had her knife out, rolling out of the way of the smoke. The blood was rushing in her ears, she was dimly aware of Lockwood saying something. Her heart was battering so quickly in her chest that she could feel it in her throat.

"Alice?"

She blinked, looking up, "Sorry, I... can be a bit jumpy." She stood, putting her knife back into her pockets.

Lockwood smiled. "I'm sorry, I should've warned you. At least I know you've got good reflexes."

Alice chuckled nervously.

"Of course, you'll be proficient with a sword already, having recieved you're fourth grade," Lockwood mused, turning again and leading her to another door. Alice frowned, this wasn't good. Maybe she should've rethought her career choices. Lockwood paused, "Wait, you mentioned you were never properly trained, sorry. What can you do, if you don't mind me asking?" He turned back to face her, waiting for her answer.

"Basic combat, basic knowledge. It's the specifics I don't know," Alice declared, she was more or less telling the truth this time. As a witch she knew all there was to know about the supernatural, but she was unaware of the specifics needed to be an agent. She looked up at him, smirking, "Put me in the catacombs with the bane and I'll know exactly what to do though."

Lockwood frowned, "The bane?"

Fuck.

You stupid girl.

"It's a villiage term for a type two," Alice lied, tilting her head and widening her eyes to try and look more convincing.

Please, please, please.

"Ahh, I see."