PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER FOURTY EIGHT

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xlviii

perhaps he likes more than the way she looks at him

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"YOU LET A non-agent inside the iron circle!" Lockwood snapped, following George into the library.

"I'm sorry, Joplin asked about identifiers and I'd seen an inscription on the mirror," George grabbed a book and made to leave, "And now I've got it to translate."

Lockwood blocked his way, "No, George we are done. If it wasn't for Alice, you'd be dead. There are ghosts and then there's us, and it is kill or be killed! You let yourself get distracted."

"Lucy legged it in the middle of a job and Alice stabbed herself," George hissed, "But you'd never bollock them like this would you? And, by the way, this mirror predates the Problem. Just think about that. Let that blow your mind for a second. Who knows what it could tell us, Lockwood, we should never have left it there."

Lockwood glared at him angrily, curling his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. "That doesn't mean that you can jeprodise a job and let people into the circle like that!"

George scoffed, "So I'm doing something wrong by trying to figure this all out, but Alice jumped straight towards a ghost and you let her off the hook? That lightning wasn't a coincidence and you know it, Lockwood. She's a witch! She lied to us on this job just like she lied to us about Combe Carey Hall and let us go in blind, again. But no, yell at me!"

In that moment, Lucy burst into the room carrying the Skull. She set it down on the table and backed away. Alice followed Lucy into the room.

"What happened to you? I told you to watch him," Lockwood huffed.

"The skull!" Lucy exclaimed, "It was talking, just now, not some random repeated death loop. An actual conversation. With me."

Lockwood looked ready to bang his head against a wall.

"Is it talking to you now?" George inquired, humouring her.

"No, no, no, I know how this might sound, but it happened," Lucy assured, "It used my name yesterday - that's why I passed out."

"Lucy, that's impossible," Lockwood disagreed.

"No, it's not. Marissa Fittes did it," Alice interjected, "She's telling the truth, I saw them talking. This- this valve, you turn it and then twist it and that's how Lucy heard it's voice."

Lucy turned to George, "Come on, George, you have to believe me." But George looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze. Lucy turned to Lockwood, "It said that you have something dangerous, hidden in that room - the secret one, on the landing. So, is there?"

"Because if there is, that proves that we have a real, sentient Type Three on our hands," Alice declared, "And that Lucy is-"

"Clinically insane!" George interrupted.

"Really fucking powerful!" Lucy cried out.

Lockwood spied the gash on Alice's arm, "That's not just a nick, you need to get that looked at. Maybe some toxins got into your blood or you hit your head harder than you thought you did. And maybe listening to whatever was in that casket fucked you up, Lucy-"

Alice shook her head, "No! We are not poisoned or crazy or delusional!"

Lucy turned to George, who'd turned his back on them, "George, look at me!" she pointed to the skull, "This is real."

George rolled his eyes, "Lockwood this is what happens when you let people accessorize with sources and take magical dream baths. You gave them a free pass just because you like the way Alice looks at you, and that Lucy's constantly defending her despite all her lies. But I'm the one whose distracted."

Lockwood turned away, "I don't know what you're talking about."

George scoffed, leaving, "Yeah, sure."

Alice and Lucy turned to Lockwood. "Lockwood please, you have to believe her," Alice begged.

"You're not Marissa Fittes!" Lockwood snapped.

"Why not?" Lucy hissed, "You know that I'm not lying, Lockwood. You know that I'm telling the truth!"

"She's right about this," Alice agreed, stepping forwards, "And she's right about whatever's in that bloody room."

Lockwood glared down at her, the vein in his temple almost popping again. His eyes were wild with rage. "You are talking about something you do not understand!" He glanced at Lucy, "You can hear visitors better than anyone I have ever met, but you cannot talk to them!" He snapped his head towards Alice again, who cowered beneath him, "And if you ever lie to me or mention that room again, then YOU ARE DONE HERE!"

He thrust his hand up, face red with anger.

Alice gasped, stumbling back and flinching, bracing herself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Alice pried her eyes open, looking up at him in terrified horror. There were tears in her eyes now, and they fell as she looked up at him.

His hand was in his hair. He was running his hand through his hair.

Lockwood stared at her with wide eyes, his hand falling to his side. He looked between his hand and the terror etched into Alice's face and then the understanding dawned on him

"Ally-" he breathed, blinking and stepping forwards.

Alice backed away.

Lockwood blinked, his eyes flooding with tears. He curled his hand into a fist, nails cutting into his palms.

And then he turned and walked away, leaving the two girls alone in the room.

"Alice," Lucy inquired, "Are you okay?"

Alice forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat, "I'm fine." She pulled her arm away when Lucy reached to touch it. "I-I just need to be alone right now. I'm sorry."

The auburn haired girl just nodded in understanding, but before she could say anything, Alice was tearing away, running up to her room.

Everything hurt.

Her arm was hurting from the gash, her temple was hurting from the fall, her head was hurting. Every inch of her was screaming in agony.

Alice couldn't breathe.

Was he going to hit her? Was he going to hurt her? She didn't know. She'd seen the look in his eyes, the look of pure rage, and it terrified her. It stabbed her in the heart with thousand different knives.

She wanted to die.

Death was better than to look into those angry brown eyes again.

She'd hurt him, she'd insulted him and she hated that. She'd overstayed her welcome, she hadn't tred carefully enough. Now he would hate her.

He'd kill her.

She knew it.

If he was holding iron in that moment, he'd have struck her down with it in an instant.

Alice would have let him.

She let herself crouch against the floor, pulling her knees to her chest as she pulled at her hair through the tears.

And then she dug her nails into her hairline.