Lockwood & Co. The Secret Of Penelope Fittes

Chapter Seven

The house was actually very nice. It may look a bit shabby, but the furniture is pretty cute. Since it was still day outside, we could go through all the rooms and watch in peace.
On the ground floor there were four rooms: a kitchen, living room, dining room and a bathroom. All rooms were typically furnished in an English style. Upstairs there were three almost identical bedrooms and a study that looked as if someone had left in a hurry. The cellar only consisted of one room and it was full of junk.
"Whew!" said Lockwood as he jumped over to avoid a falling painting George had knocked over with his butt, "If the source is here, we will still be here next month!"
After another five minutes jumping away, dodging and ducking we finally made it to the stairs and climbed panting (me), grunting (George) and in a good mood as if he hadn't almost been killed by a picture (Lockwood) again up the stairs.
"Okay..." said Lockwood when we finished our tour, "I'd say we'd split up and..."
"NO!" I called in between.
Lockwood and George looked at me in astonishment.
"Don't you remember what happened the last time we split up? We stay together!"
"All right..." said Lockwood hesitantly and I dropped onto a chair with a satisfied nod.
When night came, we started.
First, the ground floor. The temperature was relatively constant. In the cellar it was a little colder, but not conspicuous, which George commented with a relieved sigh.
On the upper floor the situation looked somewhat different.
The temperature was 10°C in the bedrooms, 7°C in the corridor and only one degree in the study. As confirmation, Lockwood put on his dark glasses and reported a death-glow about the size of a man next to the fireplace.
"Okay, then I'd say this is where the source is!", notes George superfluously.
"Oh really!" I gave back, "If you have such a sharp perspective, then please enlighten us with more insights of your brainwork and make a circle with the chains!"
"Oh hush you two!" Lockwood commented from where he stood above the death glow.
For a moment, George looked like he wanted to say something pompous, but suddenly his expression changed.
"A circle? I thought you packed the chains."
I raised my eyebrows.
"You're not serious, are you? You forgot the CHAINS at HOME?!"
I've tried to call him some more names, but Lockwood came between us:
"Hey! Stop bickering! You know that the ghost can influence you more easily if you let your feelings show so open. Don't panic, I packed the chains, my backpack is just downstairs in the kitchen."
He wanted to leave the room when he suddenly stopped and turned back to us:
"Please don't kill each other while I'm away!"
Lockwood was only gone five minutes, but let me tell you that a lot can happen in five minutes:
As soon as Lockwood left the room I felt an unusually strong malaise.
"Uh, George, do you feel that too?"
I turned to him and waited for an answer. But George stood there like he was rooted and stared at a point behind me. With a queasy feeling I turned around and saw a spirit manifying before my eyes. It was a woman in an airy summer dress and she looked at me with desperate eyes.
"My son... my son!"
I flinched. She could talk in at least some reasonable way! That means she's a type two at least and, more importantly, I could help her!
I smiled at her and suppressed the ghostly rigidity: "What's about your son?"
She came closer to me.
"My son... dead!"
I was so focused on her that I didn't notice five more ghosts manifested behind me.
"Your son is dead? I'm sorry about that!"
I waited, but nothing came. Suddenly she grimaced her face to an ugly grimace and let out a deafening scream. I covered my ears and took a step back. And promptly felt the cold. Frightened, I turned around and looked into the faces of two visitors standing right in front of me. On the other side, I saw George surrounded by three spirits.
Well, the situation could be better. Neither I nor George could move. I was desperately looking for a solution, but I knew that it was already too late. We'd both die here...
Suddenly there was a massive explosion.
The ghosts turned away and Lockwood jumped in with his coat waving. He tore his sword out of its holder and turned around himself. It happened so quickly that it divided all the visitors in the middle. Then he swirled around and threw a silver net on a vase that stood discreetly at the desk.
The spirits immediately fizzled out.
George woke up from his rigidity and collapsed.
I stared at Lockwood my eyes wide open.
Panting, he turned to me.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"