PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

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xxv

this is alot harder than i orginially thought it would be

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COMBE CAREY HALL was gorgeous. As they drove up towards the building, Alice was gazing at the medival achetecture and wondering how the witches back at Pendle would've adored a place like this.

They grabbed their bags and walked over the gravel, making their way up the steps and into the house. As Alice touched the door, stepping onto the threshold, she paused.

"Deane.... Deane..."

There was a surge of energy in this house, whispers in the very fabric of the air she breathed. This place wasn't right. It was drowning and seething with magic. Dark magic.

"Deane... Deane..."

"What are you doing?" George demanded, as Alice looked around, "Never hesitate on the threshold of a haunted house - that's rule number one."

"Sorry," Alice muttered, "Just thought I heard something."

Then, to make sure Lucy didn't do the same thing, George turned around, grabbed Lucy's arm and pulled her over the step, past the threshold and into the house. She glared at him.

Alice looked around in slight awe at the grandure of the whole place.

"Welcome to Combe Carey Hall, you're late," Fairfax chastised. "Now drop your bags and hurry up, please, the sun's going down."

Alice did not drop her bag.

In fact, she only carried a small satchel with her, which contained some herbal jars, candles and her spellbook. Because of its size, it was easy enough to hide if she adjusted her cloak, and she did just that, closing it over her body and hiding the bag within it.

George looked at the floorplans and then up again into the room Fairfax led them into. "I can't figure this place out," he sighed, "Nothing's where it should be."

"This is the gallery. The original priory was destroyed after the monks decided to commit mass suicide," Fairfax announced, "You had to make your own fun in those days." He looked up at the ceiling, "The modern house was built on the ruins. So it's a bit of a Frankenstein."

"Mr. Lockwood has broken the deal!" declared Ellie, coming into the room and holding something up, "He brought a bomb flare!"

"Oh dear," Fairfax sighed, "I asked Ellie to go through your bags."

"You did what?" George gasped.

"Well, then, you've broken the rules of the deal too - by searching out bags," Lockwood countered.

"As far as I recall, there's nothing in our agreement that prevents me from making sure that you won't burn my house down," Fairfax debated, "You do have form after all, so let's call it quits" He began to walk away, "Well, time is ticking - the sun's nearly down."

George made his was over to Lockwood, "What the hell did you bring that for?" he whispered, "Apart from anything else we've got way better flares."

"We'll leave you to work," Fairfax declared, standing beside Ellie, "It's a little late for us to be in this house safely." He pointed at the marble staircase at the end of the wall. "Through there you'll find the Screaming Staircase, which will take you up to the Red Room - which is the most likely site of the primary source."

Alice furrowed her brows.

He was lying to them.

Every witch in a 300 mile radius would bet their lives that the evil monks were the primary source.

Alice knew she'd bet her own life on it too.

"We'll be back in the morning," Fairfax mused, "I trust that you have everything you need..."

"We'll be fine," Lockwood assured.

"Good luck," Fairfax mused.

Once they'd left, Alice and Lucy began to try and listen at the scene of where a party was once held. The glasses and dishes and trinkets still left on the table. Covered in dust and cobwebs.

"Oh my god," Lucy opened her eyes, "Did you hear the screaming? It was like the world was ending."

Alice nodded, seemingly unbothered.

The banshee had killed the partygoers with her scream. The poor girl had been driven to insanity by the leftover magic of the monks, which only she could hear.

At least, that was what Alice thought happened.

Alice reached over and grabbed a jeweled mask, pretending to put it over her eyes. "I love parties and dancing," she sighed and spun around, "What a night that would've been."

Lucy rolled her eyes, "You'd have been dead."

"At least I would've got to wear a pretty dress and dance," Alice mused.

Lockwood, who was looking over the deathglows at the table, paused slightly at those words.

George's thermometer beeped, "This whole place is freezing up," he revealed. "And it's hard to map a source because the rooms don't fit together properly. I think there's something old hidded away." He looked up, eyes filled with something like exasperation and fear, "It feels like we're going in blind."

Alice curled her hand into a fist, setting down the mask and trying not to feel guilty. But it was eating away at her now.

They were going in blind.

And she wasn't.

So, what kind of person did that make her?

They'll chain you in iron and burn you, the voice in her head warned, you know they will.

"There are hidden rooms and corridors," Alice put across, "There have to be - that's the only explaination."

George sighed, "Are we sure we want to do this?"

"I'm not," Lucy declared, "Lockwood?"

Lockwood looked up from the table, where he was scanning the death glows. He walked over to them, "Hopefully this will relax you both a bit." He pulled out a small package from his blazer pocket, ripping it open to reveal an industrial strength bomb flare. He smirked, "It was obvious, Fairfax being Fairfax was going to search our bags. And me being be, I was going to smuggle flares in. We don't have our usual kit, but we do have this bomb flare. Industrial strength - better be, cost enough."

Alice grinned, bumping her shoulder against his arm affectionately, "Shabaash, love."

"So the flare in your bag was just decoy contraband?" George grinned.

Lockwood chuckled and grabbed Alice's hand, bringing it up and spinning her around, causing her to giggle. "It's all part of the dance."

Alice and Lucy exchanged a look.

When Lockwood let go of her, Lucy grabbed Alice's hand and pulled her away, squealing. "We're walking into a deathtrap and he's still flirting with you?"

Alice blushed, shaking her head, "He's not flirting."

Was he?