Dent in the Bullet ✷ Anthony Lockwood.

05. The Cutest Mad Scientist There Ever Was.

"I KNOW WHAT protocol is, okay? You don't have to keep reminding me."

"Clearly I do," Anthony scoffed. He and Mathilde stood glaring at each other from two adjacent sides of the table while George and Lucy watched from the positions near the counter. "What were you thinking taking a source like that?"

"I don't know! I don't know." The frustration Mathilde felt wasn't directed towards Anthony, no matter how much it seemed like it was. She understood his frustration; if she were in his position, she'd be screaming her head off too. At this point, Mathilde had no one but herself to be upset with. She knew better than anyone the risks of breaking protocol in such a severe way. She knew this kind of incident could get her suspended from the field. And yet she still couldn't justify taking such harsh actions. "Look, I can't explain it. I really can't. What I felt when I got near that source...It's unlike anything I've ever felt."

"That's not an excuse for breaking protocol and putting everyone in danger!"

"It's not an excuse, it's an explanation! Besides, I don't know why you're acting so high and mighty when you're the one who burnt Sheen Road down in the first place."

"Technically, Lucy threw the flare."

"Don't bring me into this!" Lucy snipped as Mathilde pushed off the table to step closer to Anthony.

"Don't bring her into this. If you hadn't forgotten the iron chains, she wouldn't have had to throw it in the first place. We wouldn't have ended up in the hospital and we wouldn't be the punchline of every major publication. You broke protocol first."

"Well—But—You're supposed to be better than me!"

Although he may have hoped to appear otherwise, everyone knew Lockwood wasn't mad at Mathilde anymore. It would be nearly impossible for him to stay angry, after all, with the heated glare she was currently shooting at him. He could hear George teasing him about the redness in his cheeks now; he'd have to blame it on the lingering frustration.

Mathilde smirked. "I am better than you."

Cutting in with a noise at the back of his throat, George joined the conversation. "So, what are you getting at here, Mathilde? With you and the Source?"

"I'm not sure," she sighed, arms crossing over her chest. "I really can't explain it, it's like—It's nothing I've felt before. She was calling out to me, like I could literally feel her voice and her hands touching me at one point, but I wasn't ghost-locked."

"So what? A psychic connection of some sort?"

"Yes!" Mathilde's eyes lit up. It was the closest she had come to describing how it felt to be near Annabel's Source. While she was ecstatic, George was huffing and rolling his eyes; he much preferred tangible ideas over concepts as frivolous as psychic connections. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but that really is what it feels like."

"It's a pseudo-science."

"So were ghosts at one point!"

"Well—"

"I need to talk to her again."

"Absolutely not," Anthony laughed. He had moved over to where George was standing as some stupid power move—maybe that way they could both look at her disapprovingly from the same angle? "She nearly killed us all not twenty minutes ago."

"Because we weren't ready. We'll be ready this time."

"It's too dangerous."

"Well..." Lucy drawled, looking slightly sheepish that this was the first time she chose to speak the entire conversation. The guilt in her eyes was clear as she looked at Lockwood.