Lockwood & Co. The Secret Of Penelope Fittes

Chapter Twentyone

"Lockwood? LOCKWOOD!"
Hastily I tried to get on my feet, stumbled a little and ran towards the fog. I ignored George's hand, which had closed tightly around my ankle, desperately trying to see something in the white smoke.
Nothing.
The fog was too thick. Ignoring my common sense I ran the last meters towards the wall of fog.
"Lucy! Wait a minute!"
The skull pulled its smoke back as fast as it could, but given its size it wasn't much of use.
I also ignored him and ran straight into the cloud. All the voices faded. It was dead quiet and I felt like I was in another world.
I expected the all too familiar stabbing pain that came every time a ghost touched me, but I felt nothing. eEven the back pain I had from the impact with Penelope had disappeared.
"Lockwood...?"
My voice sounded the same as my footsteps... dull. Carefully, I raised my hand. Nothing. No greenish color, no blisters. Strange.
I went further into the smoke. I couldn't see any further than two metres.
Suddenly I heard a moaning to my right. I didn't hesitate a second and ran towards it. My knees nearly buckled in relief as I saw Lockwood turn on his back and stare into the air for a few seconds before he finally sat up and supported himself with his hands.
"Ow!"
I took a close look at him, but even at Lockwood I saw no sign of the ghost touch. Relieved, I breathed out, then kneeled down and hugged him:
"Thank God!"
Lockwood instinctively grabbed his hands around me until seemed to realise the situation, because he grabbed me abruptly by the shoulders and pushed me back a little.
"Lucy?" He looked me in the eye. "What are you doing..." Lockwood broke off and closed his eyes for a second. "You ran after me, didn't you?"
I nodded and he sighed.
"Why are you doing something so crazy?"
"Hey! So first of all you know exactly why I did this and secondly I'm not the one who ran between possibly deadly ghost threads without a plan and was thrown into this GHOSTFOG!"
He opened his mouth immediately, but closed it again for a few seconds.
"Well, there's something to it..." he looked around, "Why didn't anything happen to us?"
I shrugged my shoulders and got back on my feet. Lockwood followed my lead and stood up too. When he knocked the dust off his shirt, a white strand fell into his forehead. Annoyed and surprised, he blew her away.
"All right, almost nothing happened to us."
A look at my shoulder showed me that I had also got a new colour on a few hairs. I put the white strand behind my ear.
The next moment the smoke swirled upwards and I could see more clearly again. George looked at us with astonishment: "You-... you're alive!"
The skull eliminated the last remnant of its fog and then returned to our plane.
"Of course they're still alive! What do you think?"
George turned to him: "They've been in your ghostfog! What was I supposed to think? That they threw a little party in it in a hurry?!" he hissed. The skull made a sound that sounded like a sigh.
"They were in the fog of a Type-3 ghost! They could very well determine whether the fog was lethal for their victims or not. Depends on the ghost... If Lucy had waited for about two seconds before deciding to jump into it I would have explained it to you!"
I stared at him speechless.
"Yet the fog is not entirely ineffective..."
He looked at us with his eyes narrowed.
"Interesting, with you it went relatively fast."
"What?" Slowly I lost my patience. To top it all off, the skull also bit its lip.
"Don't worry, it's nothing bad! The white strand of hair is just a sign that your talent, how shall I put it, is frozen. That means your psychic abilities will never wear off...", he grinned at me, "Don't look so horrified, Lucy! We'll still be able to have a chat when you're eighty in a wheelchair!"
Great! Cough, sarcasm, cough.
But if you had a proper look at it; it wasn't even that bad! George was also stunned. After a few seconds, however, he had regained his composure and cleared his throat: "Even if that sounds cool, you shouldn't tell anybody on the street about it. That wouldn't be a good idea for you in private."
"George is right", Lockwood blew the white strand from his face again, "Not everyone needs to know that! Only the hair's a little flashy. Couldn't it have been another color?"
The skull shrugged with its shoulders: "It doesn't have to stay with one. Mostly two to three strands are added in the course of the days..."
Great.
"... but hey! Be happy!", another grin followed, "We saved the city and ended Marissa's reign of terror. I have my revenge, and you are probably the most famous agents in London."
I looked at Penelope and Sir Rupert, both of whom lay dead on top of each other.
"Yes, but at what price?"
Lockwood followed his gaze: "I think we'll be answering more of these questions in the near future. For today, we leave it."