PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER SIX

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vi

pretigeously preposterous

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A HERBAL BOOK - that was what Alice needed. She knew that sage would work to protect her from iron for the meantime before she got some gloves, but sage was a well known herb in the supernatural world, almost too well known.

If she was found with a bunch of sage, she might as well write the word WITCH on her forehead with permenant marker.

She made her way down the stairs, stopping at the floor that contained Lockwood's and George's rooms. She turned, looking up at the landing that contained the forbidden door.

There was a strange feeling about that room.

She sensed death.

Alice turned her back to it, going back down the stairs to reach the library.

Lockwood could have as many secrets as he wanted, it was only fair. Alice had her own share of skeletons.

When she reached the library, the door was slightly ajar and the light was on. 

Lockwood sat in an armchair, reading.

Alice knocked the door lightly, "Hi."

Lockwood looked up, his features suddenly softer in the warm glow of the lamplight, "Oh, hello." He stood, facing her. He no longer wore his blazer or tie, but he wore his dress shirt and trousers. There was a certain, formal-esque nature about him that Alice couldn't place, not just in the way he dressed.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," she apologised, "Only I'm not that tired anymore and I like to read, so..."

She trailed off.

"No, not at all. Come in, grab a book, sit down," Lockwood assured. He watched as she scanned the many shelves. "They're organised by genre or topic. What are you looking for?"

"Um, a book on herbs," Alice replied, frowning as she scanned the spines of another shelf.

"Here," Lockwood made his way over towards her, scanning the top shelf, "You're at the right bookcase at least." He reached up, grabbing one of the books with ease.

Alice looked up, her breath catching in her throat as he grabbed the book leaning against the shelf and looking down at her. He smirked, "What?"

What the fuck do you mean 'what'?

Alice blinked, forcing herself to look down, "Nothing."

Lockwood chuckled, handing her the book. It was clothbound and hardcover. The Herbal Handbook. "Here you go."

Alice cleared her throat lightly, forcing herself to step away from him and sit on an armchair. "Thank you."

She didn't have to turn around to tell he was grinning.

So much for keeping them at arms length.

He came back to sit on his armchair, picking up what he was reading from a little coffee table.

Alice looked at the table, her eyes finding another book, An Alphabetic Catalogue of Supernatural Creatures. It lay there, and from what she could tell was recently read, for there was a small bookmark near the start of the book.

Alice dearly hoped that he wasn't looking up the Bane.

She cursed herself for her earlier comment.

A moment of silence, passed, and her gaze flickered to Lockwood, "What are you reading?" she inquired.

He closed it, showing it to her; a London magazine, "Just keeping up on what's going on in town. Parties, that kind of nonsense. You'd think there'd be less of them, since the Problem. But for the rich, it's quite the opposite. Nothing they like more than to lock themselves in a posh hotel and thrill with horror at the thought of all the visitors lurking outside."

Alice chuckled at that. Back at Pendle Hill, they danced with the ghosts themselves, milling together and not shying away. It helped, that witches could touch and talk to ghosts.

After all, it was witches who created the Problem.

It must have been such a different existence for regular humans before the Problem, before true exposure to the supernatural.

Alice couldn't imagine a life without it all.

"DEPRAC held one last week," Lockwood continued, "Everyone who was anyone was there."

The thought of Lockwood in a waistcoat made her perk up, "Were you there?" she asked quickly, "Can I see your picture?"

Lockwood shook his head, "No, so... no." He turned back to the magazine, looking down at it and beginning to read.

Alice surveyed him for a moment. "When your advert said that this is a prestigious agency, it wasn't exactly true, was it?"

Lockwood met her gaze, "Mild exaggeration, lot's of people make them. Like you, when you told me you passed your fourth grade. I called DEPRAC, they haven't even heard of you. You're on no database whatsoever."

Alice's eyes widened, she felt like a deer caught in headlights. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, blinking and unsure what to say, "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to, it's just... the- the last few- the way that it ended at my last agency-"

Lockwood leaned towards her, propping his elbows on the coffee table. "Hey it's okay. Whatever happened then is in the past, what matters now is the future. And I don't care if I have to train you up myself and give you some actually documented grades, because you're good enough to be here. You're talented, Alice, I saw it with my own eyes. We might be a new outfit and a little unorthodox. But one day well be one of the best agencies in London and I want you to be part of it."

Alice relaxed in a way, the knots of tension in her stomach undoing themselves with every word of reassurance he spoke. "Thank you, Lockwood, " she replied, her voice low, "Thank you so much."

Lockwood smiled, "No problem. Now get some rest. I'll begin with training you tomorrow morning."

Alice smiled, "One more thing?"

"Name it."

"Am I allowed to bring my pet?" she inquired.

Lockwood's eyes lit up, "As long as it's not a dog - George is allergic, I don't see why not."

She grinned.

The two of them bid each other goodbye, and Alice made her way back into her room, a warm feeling in her chest.

She stood at her window, opening it and staring out into the night streets of London. After digging through her bag, she had found what she was looking for. A mini bell and a jar of obsidian dust.

She spilled a thin layer of the dust onto a desk near the window. Picking up the bell with one hand and chiming it three times. She began to declare, her voice a low whisper as she traced a symbol into the dust, "Spirits of London, I pronounce my intentions to thee, come forth and seek me and equal we shall be. Not master and servant, but familiar and familiar, to share out knowedge, our spirit and our traits."

She rang the bell again, three times, to close off the spell. Before gently setting it down on the table.

Now, to wait.