ghost hunter

the tour

lockwoods pov

The attic unfolded before us, revealing two small rooms. The first was a minuscule washroom, where the sink, shower, and toilet seemed to overlap in a comically cramped space. It was a testament to the home's age and the ingenuity of its previous occupants, but its utility served as a reminder that sometimes comfort is found in simplicity.

Turning my attention to the second room, I revealed the quaint attic bedroom. It was just big enough for a single bed, a small wardrobe, and a chest of drawers, but its charm was undeniable. An arched gable window framed a view over Portland Row, stretching towards the ghost-lamp at the corner, its glow casting a gentle light across the dim room. "This is where I slept when I was little," I shared with Lucy, feeling the warmth of those memories wash over me. "Then Val used it. You can use it if you like." I admired the paintings Valentina had left behind, a colorful tapestry of her artistic spirit that still lingered in the space. "I'll get her to grab the last of her stuff in a bit."

"Thanks," Lucy replied, her voice brightening. "I'd be pleased to."

I gestured toward the tiny washroom. "I know the bathroom's small, but at least it's your own. There's a bigger one downstairs, but that'd mean sharing towels with George."

"Oh, I think I'll be fine here," she said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Follow me," I encouraged, descending the narrow stairs with Lucy in tow.

The landing below was dark and somber, accented by a circular golden rug that brought a touch of warmth to the aged floorboards. I pointed out the small bathroom. "That's the bathroom, if you need it. This one's my room, and that's George's. I'd tread with caution there. I once walked in on him doing yoga in the nude," I joked, lifting the mood as we approached the ground floor.

Lucy laughed, her apprehension easing. "Got it. I'll avoid that room for sure."

The ground floor – comprising sitting room, library and kitchen- was the heart of our little headquaters,and the kitchen was where we spend the most time. The surfaces had all the usual domestic clutter – biscuit tins, fruit bowls, packets of crisps – but also bags of salt and iron, carefully weighed and ready to go. Oddest of all was the kitchen table and its great white tablecloth. This cloth was half covered with a spreading net of scribbled notes, diagrams, and also drawings of several Visitor sub-types – Wraiths, Solitaries and Shades.

'We call this our thinking cloth,' I said. 'It's not widely known, but I located the bones of the Fenchurch Street Ghoul by sketching out the street-plan here, over tea and cheese on toast at four o'clock in the morning. The cloth lets us jot down memos, theories, follow interesting trains of thought . . . It's a very useful tool.'

'It's also good for exchanging rude messages when a case hasn't gone well and we're not talking to each other,' George said. He stood by the cooker, tending the evening stew.

'Er, does that happen often?' I asked.

'No, no, no,' Lockwood said. 'Almost never.'

valentina laughed, " you wait and see." she leant against the kitchen counter eating a choclate bar.

i rolled my eyes at them. 'Have I shown you the office yet?' lucy shook her head. "right this way." I lead her through a door in the kitchen down the stairs to the basment. The largest area contained three desks, a filing cabinet, two tatty green armchairs and a rather wonky bookshelf that we had assembled to hold his paperwork. A big black ledger sat resplendent on the central desk.

'Our casebook,' I said. 'It's got a history of everything we investigate. George compiles it and cross-references everything with the files up there.' I gave a little sigh. 'He likes that sort of thing. Personally I don't mind. Val and I aren't the best at paperwork.' lucy laughed slightly

I lead her through an arch off the main office was a side-room, completely empty except for a rack of rapiers, a bowl of chalk dust, and two straw-filled Visitor dummies hanging from a ceiling beam on iron chains. One of the dummies wore a bonnet, and the other a top hat. Both were full of holes.

"meet our dummies. Obviously this is the rapier room. We practise here every afternoon. Of course, you'll be proficient with a sword already, if you've passed your Fourth Grade . . .' I glanced at her.

she nodded. 'Of course. Yes. Absolutely.'

'. . . but it doesn't hurt to keep in shape, does it? I look forward to seeing you in action. And over here' – i walked to a padlocked metal door set into the wall – 'this is our high-security storeroom.' I struggled with the padlock

'Umm, its unlocked.'

'oh, note to self highten security of high-security storeroom.' 

This was the only separate portion of the basement – a small, windowless room filled with shelves and boxes. It was here that all the most essential equipment was kept – the range of silver seals, the iron chains, the flares and canisters ordered direct from the Sunrise Corporation. Right now, it was also where the ghost-jar, with its clamped brown skull and ectoplasmic host, was stored, concealed beneath its spotted cloth.

'George gets it out to do experiments sometimes,' i said. 'He wants to observe how ghosts respond to different stimuli. Personally I'd rather he destroyed the thing, but he's got attached to it, somehow.'

lucy eyed the cloth doubtfully. 'So . . . where did he get it from?' I asked.

'Oh, he stole it. I expect he'll tell you about it sometime. I'll let you settle in, one of us will come and get you for dinner.'

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in the kitchen, I leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching valentina paint. it was a ghost partly hidden by flowers. not on of the ones that we fight, it looked like i child had thrown a sheet over themself and had cut eyes in it to see.

"Valentina," I began, fixing her with an intent look. "I think it might be time to be a little nicer to Lucy."

Valentina paused, her paintbrush in mid-air as she glanced at nice. "Nicer? Lockwood, you do realize she's just a girl who wandered into our chaos, right? I don't think her unpacking is my concern. also i didn't want anyone else to join us. you made that decision" Her tone was nonchalant.

i sighed "It's not just about her unpacking. She's settling into a place that could easily be overwhelming. You know as well as I do that our world can be harsh. Let's not make it harder for her. She's capable; I see that. But she could use a little warmth."

"Warmth?" Valentina scoffed lightly, her lips quirking into a skeptical smile. "And what does that entail? Baking cookies? What do you think this is, some quaint little drama?"

I shook my head, a smile forming despite myself. "I'm serious. You should move the rest of your paintings out of the attic. It would make her feel less like an intruder in your art space. Maybe instead of cold stares and aloofness, a friendly welcome would help her."

With a blend of annoyance and contemplation, Valentina set her brush down. "Fine. I suppose I can make some room." She rolled her eyes. "can I put them in the attic? I'm guessing you don't want them in your room."

"firstly, its our room. thats the only reason the attic is lucys room, because you never used it, you slept in my room most of the time. secondly, yes they can go into the attic. you can put them by the desks."

the next chapter will be a flashback so you guys know why she sleeps in lockwoods room. it'll be written in the same font as this is. if i add a comment at the end i'll make it bold or underline it. enjoy

1321 words