The Golden Coast: A Locklyle Fanfiction

Part 18

  Lucy POV

  The air was thick and heavy with drifting clouds of ectoplasm. Specks of salt and iron filings crunch beneath my boots. My fingers curl around my belt, sightlessly checking my stash of magnesium flares and salt bombs. 

  That's when the spirit manifests. 

  "Lockwood?" I call out weakly. "George? Norrie? Quill? Holly?" I stare up at the spirit, which is barely more than a blob of ghostly fog. I raise my rapier, about to slash right through the ghost. But curls of smoky substance slowly begin to drift off of the large blob, forming the silhouette of a person. I feel like I've seen this person before, a million times, but I can't tell. 

  The ectoplasm begins to take a more solid shape. Broad shoulders, a tight coat that swirls to the ghost's knees. Facial features unfurl themselves across the blank canvas of the spirit's face. Arched eyebrows, almost cat-like eyes, angled nose, thin lips curved into a grin I know all too well. 

  The ghost is Lockwood. 

  I almost laugh at the absurdity. This trick is one I've seen before. The first time I hadn't been prepared for it, but here I had salt bombs, magnesium flares and my wits about me. It was almost damning how easy this seemed. "Lockwood, I've got a Changer over here!" I yelled out. 

  The room remained cold and quiet. I couldn't see the walls due to the drifts of ectoplasm wafting around me and the floor was covered with so much salt and iron that I could barely see the floorboards. I was safe standing on the small mound of ghost-resistant flakes. Where was Lockwood?

  I easily slashed through the Changer, watched it dissipate with satisfaction warming my gut. I stepped forward to shake salt over where it used to be, but instead stepped on something soft. I looked down.

  Lockwood stared up at me. His solid body under my boots a testament to my growing panic. 

  "L-lockwood?" I stuttered, dropping to my knees beside him. Blood pounded in my ears, my hands probing his pale face for any sign of warmth. His jaw was slack, his brown eyes a hazy white, tongues of blue writhing up his neck and towards his chin. I pressed my ear to his chest. Nothing but silence. I pounded on it with a fist for good measure, screaming at him to wake up, do anything, even look at me, even though I knew it was fruitless. 

  I felt a strong force pulling me away from him, yelling and clawing at the air around me. I felt something twisting around my legs and my arms, solid warmth pinning my limbs to my sides. 

  I bolted upright and out of my dreams. 

  3rd Person POV

  The first thing Lucy saw was Lockwood. Lockwood, alive and well, perfectly okay, no haze in his eyes or ghostly blue skin. His hands were restraining her arms, gently but firmly, a concerned look on his face.  She almost sobbed in relief, throwing herself at him and pulling him into a massive bear hug. He paused for a few moments, very surprised, but reciprocated, hugging her back just as tightly. "So, Luce." he said after a minute of her crying into his shoulder. "Er, what happened exactly?" 

  Lucy pulled away from him, feeling extremely embarrassed and childish for crying over a nightmare. "It's nothing, Lockwood. Sorry for waking you." she mumbled. Lockwood began untangling the sheets from Lucy's arms and legs. She watched him smooth out the folds and wrinkles in her blanket and tucked it around her securely. 

  She looked to her right and saw George standing there beside her. He silently handed her a cup of tea and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "Mary and Holly are out buying some things for the flight back to London. Quill is somehow still asleep on the floor in George's room and Flo is downstairs mixing champagne with punch." Norrie's voice came from her left.