ghost hunter

the new arrival

valentina's pov

the doorbell rang, and George meandered toward the door, barely masking his sigh of exasperation. he came back in with a girl.

"Hello," Lockwood greeted the newcomer with an easy confidence. "I'm Anthony Lockwood."

The girl stepped into the room, her brown hair catching the light. "Lucy Carlyle," she introduced herself, her voice steady despite the high stakes of the moment.

"Tea? Or has George already offered you some?" Lockwood tossed in, trying to ease Lucy into the atmosphere.

George, waved a dismissive hand. "I thought I'd wait until the first test was done. Haven't seen anyone stick around long enough to drink tea yet." His eyes shot a conspiratorial glance towards Lucy. "You look like a bolter."

I laughed. "I have to agree with him on that one," I remarked, scanning Lucy's face for signs of retreat.

Lockwood rolled his eyes. "Why not give her the benefit of the doubt? George, go put the kettle on," he said, smiling at Lucy as she settled into one of the chairs. George seemed unconvinced but trudged off into the hall, muttering under his breath about tea bags. "can i have a peperment one please" i called after him

"He's getting hungry," Lockwood explained as he pulled out some scattered papers, "We've been interviewing all morning, and he was convinced the last girl was 'the one.'"

"Hey, I'm hungry too!" I chimed in playfully, adding to the light atmosphere.

"This is Valentina," Lockwood nodded toward me, I smiled warmly in return.

 "I'm afraid I haven't brought you any doughnuts." lucy said.

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"George told me about your daily deliveries," Lucy replied, smirking.

"Oh. For a moment there, I thought you were psychic," Lockwood responded with mock surprise.

"I am," Lucy joked back. Lockwood sat down on the couch next to me and gestured to the armchair opposite us, indicating lucy should sit down. he looked through the paper lucy had handed him.

"I see from your letter you had the Sight. But it says that it wasn't your real strength. You could listen too. And you've got the 'Touch'," he stated, a hint of admiration in his tone.

"Listening's my thing, really," Lucy explained, her eyes clouding with thought. "As a child, I used to hear voices whispering in the street after curfew, when all the living were indoors. Touch often merges with what I hear; it's hard to separate them. Sometimes, Touch triggers echoes of what's happened."

"George can do a bit of that," I chimed in, feeling the need to contribute. Lockwood nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Not me.' he said, " I'm tone-deaf when it comes to Visitors. Sight's my thing. Death-glows, trails, and all the ghoulish residues of death..." he grinned. "Cheerful subject, isn't it? Now then, it says here you started out with a local operative up north—name of Jacobs. Correct?"

Lucy confirmed, speaking calmly. "That's right. I worked for him for several years."

Lockwood leaned forward. "So he trained you up, did he? You got your Fourth Grade qualifications?"

The girl shifted nervously in her chair, the past affecting her countenance. "That's right. Grades One through Four..."

"But you didn't bring any letters of referral from him?" Lockwood inquired. "That's a little unusual, don't you think?"