The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 7

I sat with my feet pressed firmly together on the top step, looking down into the stairwell. It seemed to stretch downwards for miles and yet was actually barely more than twenty steps. The door to Lucius' room was open and out of that doorway emanated a clean white light that lit up the bottom of the staircase, highlighting the dark corners and banishing the shadows. Lucius' voice drifted up towards me, his high-pitched, clear tones making him sound like your archetypal choirboy, captivating any that would listen with a sweet falsetto version of Ring a Ring O' Roses. Clutching handfuls of hair in my hand, I listened for as long as I could bear and then finally, exasperated, I stood up and turned to walk away through Garrick's room.

Suddenly, the singing stopped. Slowly, I approached the staircase again and waited. No sound came from Lucius' room but somehow I knew he was down there, waiting, listening. Warily, I began to descend, holding my breath when I reached that point where I remembered stepping into inky black waters and wading through the dark. Thankfully, I only felt the staircase under my feet and soon I was at the bottom, staring into the brightly lit room.

Lucius was kneeling on one of the rugs, with a small town of little coloured wooden bricks laid out in front of him. Carefully constructed archways, houses and roads covered half of the rug and he was slowly weaving a toy car through the bricks, making the noise of a car engine as he directed it under the arches and through the streets of his toy town.

He looked up, giving me a toothy grin. "Hello Megan."

"Hello Lucius." I offered the briefest of smiles.

"Have you come to read to me?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

He's not just a boy. He's not just a boy.

I tried to convince myself over and over again but I was struck dumb by how normal this all seemed and how normal he looked. This perfect little boy with his beautiful white-blonde hair that always seemed to fall over his eyes. His sparkling blue eyes and flawless skin.

"I would like to speak with you. If that's okay," I said, wishing that I could look at him without feeling that cold grip of terror around my throat.

"Sure," he shrugged. "But can you read to me afterwards? I like it when you read to me."

"Y-you do?" I stammered.

He nodded vigorously.

"Oh. Okay," I said, slightly stunned and also petrified at the thought of spending any longer down here than I needed to. "If you really want me to."

He turned his attention back to his car, parking it up in front of a brick house and humming a tune under his breath. I hesitated for a moment, trying to resist the urge to flee back up the stairs because no matter how terrified I was, I had to stay. I had no choice.

Slowly, I padded across the room and sat on the other side of the toy town, just far enough out of his reach. Still he did not look up and I just watched him as he played, finding myself slightly hypnotised by the normality of it and letting a small smile creep around my lips as he continued making that contented little brum-brum sound.

After a while, I blinked myself out of the daze and studied him carefully.

"Lucius?" I said finally, taking a deep breath. "Do you know what you are?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked back at me and I was shaken as to how you could look into his eyes one minute and see nothing but a child and yet in a split second, you could see something else, something more.

"What I mean is, do you know what you can do? You know that you're different?"

"Yes."

"Are you really a child? You look like one but...." I trailed off, feeling infinitely stupid for asking the question as he sat there in front of me wearing his Spider-Man hooded sweater with matching socks and blue jeans.