PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER EIGHT

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viii

im not chasing boys i swear

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"THANK YOU, SIR," the two teens said, getting out of the taxi and making their way towards a house. They both carried a duffel bag each and had their rapiers at their belts.

Lockwood, the posh bastard, was wearing a suit.

Alice wore loose cargos and a form fitting top, with her cloak clasped at her collarbones. She wore sleek black gloves which extended a few inches past her wrists.

"Alright, I'm gonna test you on the plans in random order, and it's vital that we can communicate as clearly and quickly as possible, with as little words as we can," Lockwood declared.

"Thats a good start, love," Alice mused, "Took you about 30 words to say what you're about to do."

"Don't be facetious, Alice, we really don't have the time," Lockwood mused, "Now, what's Plan C?"

"Plan C means whoever isn't in combat makes a defensive circle," she replied, nonchalantly, "Plan E means you fight the visitor, and I deal with the source, Plan D is the other way around. Plan B is salt-bombs, Plan A is lavender water and Plan F is Greek Fire - which should only be used indoors under carefully controlled curcumstances."

After a full day of studying them, the Plans were engrained in Alice's mind.

Lockwood kept looking forwards, "10 out of 10."

"There were only 6."

"Damn, I'll have to add another 4."

"I thought you said there wasn't time to be facetious," Alice chastised.

Lockwood looked at his watch and then his gaze flickered to her, "Well, we're slightly ahead of schedule," he smirked, "Love."

Alice raised an eyebrow as she put her bag down in front of the door, "Are you mocking me?"

He chuckled, "Wouldn't dream of it." But the look on his face said otherwise.

Alice rolled her eyes playfully, turning to peer into the house from the blurred windows in the front door, it was dark. "Are you sure this is the right address?"

"62 Sheen Road, Mrs. Hope," Lockwood stated, "Quarter to 6 on the dot."

A form moved behind the door.

"Ah, here she comes," Lockwood quipped, adjusting his tie.

"Are you from the agency," came a voice behind them.

Alice and Lockwood turned to see an old woman.

"Mrs. Hope?" Lockwood guessed, and when she nodded, he walked forwards, shaking her hand, "I'm Anthony Lockwood and this is my colleague, Alice Deane. We've come about your Problem - do you care to show us inside?"

The woman shook her head, "Oh no, I won't set foot in there. Not since my husband passed, not since how he passed. Anyway, the disturbances have been very persistent. I want to sell it, but I need it cleared out first."

"That is exactly what we do," Lockwood assured.

"Locate the vistor, contain the source," Alice added, "A safe space means a satisfied customer."

Mrs. Hope eyed Alice's small form and shifted uncomfortably, "Shouldn't you have a supervisor? I thought an adult had to be present for the invesitgation."

"Strictly speaking, the law states that an adult is only required if an operative is undergoing training, but we don't find it necessary," Lockwood revealed.

"To be honest, adults are pretty useless," Alice mused.

Lockwood shot her a pointed look.

"Um, because they're not sensitive, if they can't see or hear what's going on they just end up getting in the way," Alice explained.

Mrs. Hope handed Lockwood the key, nodding.

"One more thing, madam. Is there someone else inside the house, its just, we saw-" Lockwood started.

"No, I've got the only key," she replied. She handed him a peice of paper, "Here's the form, it comes with all of the information you need to know. Now I have to go, it's almost curfew."

They watched as she went, Anthony coming to stand back next to Alice.

Mrs Hope stopped, turning to face them again. "When I was your age, I was out chasing boys, having fun," she told them, "It's terrible the world's come to this. I feel sory for your generation."

Alice forced herself to remain calm and inconspicuous.

There was a dull feeling deep in her chest whenever the Problem and it's impact were mentioned, and this time was no different.

Guilty, the voice in her head jeered.

Mrs Hope turned, and left, walking away for real this time.

"Cheerful soul," Lockwood mused.

"Real ray of sunshine," Alice quipped.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They picked up their bags and made their way into the house, the door swinging open with a small squeak.

Inside, it was cold and dark.

"Heating's off," Lockwood noted.

"It's bloody freezing," Alice agreed.

"Anything else?" Lockwood asked her.

Alice shrugged, popping down her bag, "Let's see." Both of them stood side by side, closing their eyes and tapping into their talents, or in Alice's case - her magic.

A knocking echoed through the house faintly, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from. And fear, there was fear everywhere, it practically stank.

"Sense something?" he inquired, voice low.

"Knocking, very fain, but I can't tell from where. And this house stinks of fear, no - terror," she whispered in reply, "You?"

"Death glow so bright I should've brought my sunglasses," Lockwood replied, eyes at the base of the staircase.

Alice opened her eyes and nodded, she approached the death glow, kneeling next to it. "It looks like he flipped over a few times then broke his neck. Violent death - not good." In that moment, a man's scream echoed through the air, then a rapid thumping and falling on the stairs before a sickening crack. Alice gasped, scrambling back and throwing her hands over her face to protect her head.

Lockwood chuckled as she lowered her hands.

"I heard him falling," she hissed, "At least my hypothesis of the neck breaking is right. A quick death is easier to deal with than a slow one."

Lockwood smirked, checking his watch, "And it's not even 6. Tea?"

Fucking hell.