PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

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lxvii

im running out of roman numerals that i know, i didn't pay attention in primary school

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"STRAWBERRY ASKED ME TO THE PARTY!"

"WHAT?!"

George clamped his hands over his ears and groaned, "My ears!"

Alice tore down the stairs, squealing. Lucy screamed, grabbing her arms.

"Oh my god!" Lucy screamed.

"Oh my god!" Alice yelled in reply.

Both of them laughed, hugging and jumping up and down.

Lockwood stuck his head out of the landing as Alice grabbed Lucy's hand. Alice grinned, "Tell me everything!"

The tall boy raised an eyebrow as Alice and Lucy stumbled into the parlour, squealing and whispering. Anthony surveyed them for a moment. "How much sugar have you two had today?"

"Shush, Anthony, this is the biggest development since the Printing Press," Alice chastised, snapping the door shut behind them.

George looked at Lockwood. "I don't understand girls at all."

Two and a half hours of hectic getting ready and gossiping later, Alice Deane stood in front of her mirror. She wore a long, black, satin dress that hugged her in all the right places and was tied with a corset type bow in the back.

The skirt flowed gracefully down her body, and the sleeves were slightly flared. All in all, the dress was pretty simple, but the way that it draped over her made it seem almost magical.

Her hair was curled perfectly, secured in a braided half updo, with some thick peices out to frame her face and hide her scars.

As usual, Alice had on her trademark, deep red lipstick. She had done foxy eyeliner in her inner corners as well as the outer, and her eyes were lined with kajal, with some gold dusting her lids, making them appear mesermising and ethereal.

She had on some simple gold jhumkey, but no other jewelery.

Her eyes landed on a picture pinned to the mirror, a photo of a woman carrying a small girl in her arms. The woman looked remarkably like Alice, with the same dark hair and the same empty, bottomless eyes.

Delilah Deane.

She held the picture in trembling fingers.

What would the witches think of her, living with agents and fighting for them? So far, Lucy and George had figured her out. It would only take so long before Lockwood found out, too.

She knew she would never feel his kindness again if he were to learn of her true nature.

Alice looked in the mirror, not recognising the girl that stood before her.

You are death itself, the skull had said, the daughter of death. And it had led her into tapping into a flood of magic that Alice had never summoned before. What was that? Flames of shadow and hate?

What even was her true nature?

Alice stared into the reflection of those endless, black eyes.

Monster.

Knock, knock!

"Can I come in?"

Alice blinked, turning around, "Yeah." She watched as Lockwood made his way up the stairs. Her breath hitched. He was in a tailored tuxedo, his hair perfectly combed and a gleam in his eyes that she'd never seen before, and gods, did he smell good.