PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

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xxix

im very very very sorry

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"I'M AN IDIOT," breathed Lockwood as Alice pulled away from him. He entagled his fingers in her hair, his thumb coming to rest atop one of the scars at her hairline. "I should never have brought us here."

Alice's eyes cast downwards as guilt began to eat away at her again, gnawing past her defences and mask. No, this was her fault. She had watched them walk into danger knowing that they were going in blind, knowing that they could have been seriously hurt or killed.

Lockwood grunted as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture of Annabel Ward and a few others. "There, I can't believe I missed it," he pointed at one of the men in the photo - Farifax. "Fairfax wasn't just in casinos, he was the most connected man in Soho before he moved into Iron."

"Fairfax knew Annabel?" George realised.

"He didn't just know her. I think he was with her,"  Lockwood explained, "He gave her the ring. He must have done. And that weird hallmark - that means there's gotta be a record of him commissioning it."

"Wait, so... he killed her?" Lucy declared.

"And the ring's proof," Lockwood agreed. His eyes flickered to the edge of the room, where he found the flare, on the other side of the well. It must have rolled away when he had dropped it. Lockwood looked back at Alice, trying to decipher what that meant.

She had said that she had used the flare. She must have used it, to cause an explosion like that. So why had she lied?

"He must have brought us here for the house to kill us," Alice stated, the understanding dawning on her. "It wouldn't have even been suspicious, just four more agents dying on the job."

Three more.

But Alice would have survived. She would've lived to tell the tale.

The one thing that Fairfax hadn't realised, that he hadn't accounted for -  was that he'd just invited a Deane Witch into a house full of magic.

"We need to get out of here," Lucy stated, "Leave before they even realise we're still alive."

Alice grabbed Lockwood's arm, holding him and helping him struggle to his feet.

"If we leave through the Red Room we wont be," George reminded.

Alice pursed her lips.

She'd already practically blown her cover anyway. Perhaps after all of this was over, she could run away again, find a new place to live. Maybe even leave the country.

"We have to," Alice implored, looking around, "There's no other way out. If we just run out instead of trying to fight it, we might survive."

There was a moment of stillness, of deafeated resignation, before they made their way back towards the staircase.

"I'm sorry for pushing you," Alice apologised, her voice quiet as she looked up at Lockwood. This whole situation was hellish, and she felt even worse about what she was planning to do next. "You're not hurt are you?"

Lockwood looked down at her, but there was something dark in his gaze as he did so. His gaze was hollow. No longer with that same affection or warmth that he used to look at her with. "No, it's okay."

It was as if there was a barrier between them now. A grudge or unspoken distance.

Alice felt like crying.

This was worse than the ghosts, worse than the hunters, worse than anything. Or at least, that's what it felt like in the moment.

Lockwood looked down at her and didn't recognise the girl staring back at him.

They made their way back up the stairs and passage in silence. Alice's heart thrummed with a mixture of terror and despair with every step she took.

When they made their way into the Red Room, the blood was all gone, the walls were green again. Everything looked untouched.

There kit lay in the room still. Alice's candle lay discared by the trapdoor.

Alice picked up the candle as they quickly gathered the kit. They ran to the door as whispers began to fill the room again, the thermometer beginning to beep. Alice tapped into her magic, tearing open the door and holding it open as George and Lucy left. Then Lockwood. He turned, waiting for her to leave.

Alice hesitated by the threshold, looking back into the room, into the mirror, where the witches stood in the reflection watching her.

"Join us... Deane..."

Alice looked back at Lockwood and his expression turned into one of shock horror as he saw the look in her eyes, the resignation in them.

The decision.

He grabbed her arm, trying to pull her outside.

"The mirror is the source," Alice cried.

"Ally, no!" Lockwood yelled.

Alice tore her arm from his grasp and he tried to step into the room again but George grabbed him.

"I'm so sorry!" Alice sobbed, and then slammed the door shut, and locked it.

"ALLY!"

Alice turned, wincing as Lockwood began to bang at the door, screaming her name.

"ALICE, PLEASE!"

Alice turned, watching as the room began to fill with blood again, a cahcophony of screams echoing through the room. Whispers of magic filled the very fabric of the air.

Blood magic.

The cuts on Alice's hands from earlier had stopped bleeding now, but she curled her hands into fists, willing the blood to begin flowing again.

It dripped from between her fingers like deadly, crimson rain.

Everything was covered in blood now.

"Join our vengeance!" the witches implored.

From outside, Lockwood ran a hand angrily through his head, pacing back and forth, he kicked the door. "She's so stupid! How- How could she?!"

"I don't understand," Lucy cried, shaking her head, "It's suicide."

Lockwood kicked the door again, banging on it, but it wouldn't judge. He fell to his knees, trying to fiddle with the lock and doorknob, but realised it was bolted from the inside. He could feel his vision blurring, everything was falling apart.

Lockwood dug his nails into the wood of the door, screaming through his teeth.

Everything was falling apart.