PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER FOURTY FOUR

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xliv

ive run out of chapter titles so here we are ig

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THE RAIN STOPPED around 15 minutes before, leaving the windows of the cab peppered with water droplets and mist as they drove through London.

Alice sat beside Lucy and opposite Lockwood. She stared out of the window rather solemnly, a hollow look in her dark eyes. She was dressed in her small black dress with bishop sleeves, sheer black tights and her cloak. Instead of her regular pointy shoes, she wore a pair of simple black boots which were 'comfortable', 'versatile' and were on sale in Primark (which was obviously their best trait).

"Okay, let's keep our wits about us," declared Lockwood, spying the faraway look in Alice's eyes, "We do not want to get jumped by relic men."

"Who even keeps those arseholes in business, I don't understand," Lucy mused.

Alice stayed silent. A lot of the time, witches depended on relic men to get sources before DEPRAC destroyed them.

She had a bad feeling that her mother's hand mirror, which was now hidden under the floorboard in her room beside her spellbook, would probably be worth several billion pounds. For a moment, Alice could imagine someone peeling the cloth off of it and announcing, 'The mirror of Delilah Deane, the Breaker of the Veil; used by the death witch to tear open the Veil to the Other Side and cause the Problem. The mirror which caused mortal souls to reach back from Beyond. Peeled away from her daughter's cold, dead body.'

Alice didn't see any future or reality in which she would be alive and well after this particular job.

Perhaps they'd give her a mercy and hang her rather than burning her.

"There's a lot of rich, twisted bastards out there who want something to scandalize their equally twisted mates," Lockwood explained.

"It's messed up," Alice muttered. Unwillingly, her mind strayed to a shop in the Witch Corner of London, which sold stolen sources. Maybe, if she managed to run away after this job, she might have a future as a relic woman.

Alice let her eyes fall on Lockwood as they drove.

She didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to lose any of them. But here they were, on their way towards the grave of one of the most powerful death witches. No salt bomb or iron chain would be enough to stop his spirit, and she knew that.

Perhaps they would just cover the body with a silver net.

That would stop him for a bit.

Maybe a few days.

"Sources are fascinating and illegal," George stated, jerking her from her thoughts, "Put those two things together, and there's your black market."

"A ruthless one at that. Relic men are the scum of the earth," commented Lockwood, "I know  one notable exception, but by and large, they'll kill you without hesitation." He turned to Alice smirking slightly, "So if you see one... run."

They made their way forward, the quiet drive interrupted by an influx of protestors that stayed by the car.

"This lot are almost just as crazy," George mused.

Alice frowned as they shouted and yelled, "Who are they?"

"Ghost cult, they think that instead of fighting visitors, we should be welcoming them in," George explained. "They're the Venn diagram intersection for noisy, angry, and deliberately thick."