PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

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xxxv

this is not how i thought my afternoon would go, can you maybe stop it

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"I'M GOING OUT," Alice declared, clasping her cloak at her collarbones. "Do we have any clients scheduled for today?"

Lockwood looked up from his tea, swallowing when he saw her. She wore a sheer tights and a short, black, A-line dress with bishop sleeves. He tried to keep his eyes trained at her face, clenching his jaw slightly.

Who was she meeting?

"No, we don't," he replied, "Where you going, if you don't mind me asking?"

Alice picked up Onyx as the cat made her way over to her, smiling lightly. "Just going to get some stuff. Cat food."

She spoke so confidently that Lockwood could tell she was lying.

He felt like the tea he had been drinking was poisoned and now he was dying. "I see," he replied, "Shall I call you a taxi?" Perhaps if he were nice, she'd reconsider meeting whoever she was meeting.

Don't think like that, Lockwood chastised himself, what are you, 12?

"Thanks, but I'll walk," Alice refused, she sent him one last parting smile, before she left the house, taking Onyx with her.

Contrary to Lockwood's belief, Alice was meeting no one. She'd captured a butterfly that morning and spelled it to lead her towards wherever the witch corner of London was. Whatever black market that the witches of the community occupied.

Alice followed the butterfly, Onyx at her heels as they made their way through the streets and alleyways of London.

Eventually, it became more alleyways than streets.

Whatever side of the city she was going to now was certainly the more run down side, the forgotten one, the underfunded one.

The one that Hunters wouldn't bother to check.

She walked down another alleyway, but was faced by a dead end. The old bricks had a strange poster stuck upon them, a woman looking into a hand mirror. The poster was peeling and partially destroyed from the rain.

Alice grabbed her knife, making a tiny prick on her index finger before pocketing the knife again. She picked up Onyx, before pressing the bloodied finger to the mirror and closing her eyes.

Everything changed, the world before her was shifting and the ground beneath her feet was quaking.

And when she opened her eyes, she was in a bustling street, full of a variety of shops and markets and bars.

Alice set down Onyx, smiling as she made her way through the street.

The place was comforting, in a way. Especially after the coldness of the agency - after all that had been destroyed after Combe Carey Hall. Here, she wasn't different. She wasn't a liar. Here, she was just like everyone else.

Like home.

Now, to get those herbs.

...

Alice unlocked the door, before dropping her key back into her pocket. She let Onyx enter first, who darted into the drawing room. The house was strangely quiet as she took off her cloak and shoes.

"Guys?"

"In here," called Lockwood, "We've got a client."

Alice frowned. They hadn't been expecting a client. She set down her bag and made her way into the drawing room. All of the agency sat on one side of the room, whilst someone else sat on the other.