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askullinajar · 7 years

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The Living Ghost (part 1/4)

(CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR TEG)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Fic info: takes place right after The Empty Grave. Rating: General. Pairings: Lockwood/Lucy and Holly/her ‘flatmate’. Ao3 link: here

Further fics in this series: The Shattered Frame, A Merry Little Christmas, A Little Help From Your Friends.

“I leave for one minute and you let me get nicked again.”

“You were gone for a week!”

“Yeah, whatever. Some friend you are.”

Lucy comes home to find the skull missing. On their quest to get him back, Lockwood & Co. discover that the secret to eternal youth might not have been the only thing the Orpheus Society were striving towards.

Part 1 – The Theft

“We should do that again sometime,” said Lockwood as we stepped, side by side, through the front door into the hallway of 35 Portland Row. “Maybe get a bite to eat or something.” He smiled at me, and that dazzling, mega-watt grin filled me with a familiar warmth. “Just the two of us.”

I smiled back at him, feeling my cheeks flush and my heart fluttering and the weight of the sapphire necklace pressed warmly against my chest. “Yeah,” I said. “I’d like that.”

We parted ways on the upstairs landing as he went to help George with painting and I went to drop off my coat in my little attic bedroom. I paused for a moment, my hand on the doorknob, trying to quench the little bubble of excitement in my chest; he probably wouldn’t be there, after all. It was still light out.

Still, as I pushed open the door, my eyes automatically darted towards the window, where I hoped to see the grey ghost of a youth, perhaps slouching against the wall. Instead, what I saw made my blood run cold.

The skull was gone.

I swallowed down the thick panic rapidly rising in my throat. I stood frozen to the spot, my eyes scanning the rest of my room. No, the skull’s disappearance was the only change.

“GEORGE!” I called.

“WHAT?” came the reply.

I stepped out of the doorway to lean over the banister. “Did you… did you take the skull?”

George scratched at his head with the end of his paintbrush, inspecting his handy work and splatting paint on his bruised face in the process. “Why would I take the skull?”

“I don’t know! To experiment on him?!” My voice was rising in volume now, sounding frantic, though for some reason I couldn’t help it.

“And risk the possibility of him coming back and killing me?” said George. “No thank you!”

“But, then…” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think over the sound of my heart thumping against my chest. He couldn’t be gone. Not again. “Did anyone come in?”

“I don’t know, I went out.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“We ran out of paint… and biscuits.”

I was already charging down the stairs from my attic bedroom. “HOLLY!” I yelled. “QUILL!”

“They’re not in,” said George.

I halted halfway to the staircase that lead to the hallway downstairs and turned to him. “What do you mean they’re not in?!”

George seemed a little apprehensive towards me now, but then I guess he’s seen me get upset many times, so he was right to be. “Calm down, Lucy. They just had to get more building supplies, that’s all.”

Lockwood came out of his room then, all kitted out in an old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms for painting in. He took in my frantic state and frowned in concern. “Everything alright, Luce?”

I ignored him, still interrogating George. “How long have they been out? How long has the house been empty?”

“I… I don’t know,” George stammered. I guess he was expecting me to throw or punch something any second, which I was tempted to do. “No more than twenty minutes.”

I turned and hurtled my way down the stairs, briefly registering the sounds of Lockwood and George chasing after me and of Lockwood imploring me to tell him what was wrong. I didn’t slow when I got to the landing. I tore my way down the corridor and threw open the kitchen door. And stopped.

Lockwood and George nearly rammed into me. “Lucy! What’re you…?” George started, but he stopped halfway through his sentence to stare across the kitchen, where our brand-new backdoor was hanging ajar.

Lockwood pushed past me and walked over to it, running his fingers over the gouges in the wood where a crow-bar had been used to force the door open.

“Great. Now we have to get another door,” said George. “Do these criminals not even think about how much money they’re costing us?!”

“Now’s not the time, George,” said Lockwood. He turned to me, expression serious. “Lucy, what’s going on?”

“I…” I started. I felt sick. How many times had I let the skull slip out of my grip? In my little flat, in the old underground, during the attack on Portland Row, Fittes House… And now, yet again, I’d let my defences down and the skull had been taken. Somehow, despite when we had first begun talking and I’d wanted to bury that stupid jar in the yard or chuck it in a furnace, we had become something like friends and, even if he didn’t come back, the thought of not having the skull by my side filled me with dread. He had saved both mine and Lockwood’s lives at Fittes house, at the risk of destroying his own source, and I couldn’t even keep track of one bloody skull! Some friend I was.

“The skull’s gone,” I forced out at last and, as I said it, a fire filled my chest and I felt adrenaline course through my limbs. I would get him back. For good this time.

Lockwood looked at me, taking in my set jaw and blazing eyes. I waited for him to tell me to stop being so ridiculous. To tell me that it was just a charred skull whose ghost might never even come back and that my attachment to it was absurd. But, instead, he nodded. “He saved our lives. We’ll get him back, Luce. Whatever it takes.”

I gazed at him, surprised at how willing he was to help me get the skull back, and he smiled back at me, with that light dancing in his eyes that thrilled for the taste of adventure.

Then George coughed and we looked away.

“Right, well,” said Lockwood, clearing his throat. “We’ll just wait for Holly and Quill to get back, then we’ll start making a plan of action!”

“Wait a minute,” George said. “First we’ve got to figure out who stole the skull in the first place. And why?” He sat down at the table and picked up a pen, ready to scribble down ideas on the thinking cloth.

“Whoever it was had to know about the skull,” I said. “And they knew where it was; nothing else has been moved.”

“It’s easy enough to see the skull in your window from outside,” said Lockwood. “But who would know the significance of it?”

“I think there are two pretty obvious suspects here,” said George. “Our old friends Adelaide and Leopold Winkman.”

“We did kind of kill Mr Winkman,” I recalled.

“Yep. And they know about your attachment to the skull,” said George. “The thing is, the Winkman’s are only usually interested in what they can sell, and the skull’s pretty much worthless now. No offense, Lucy.”

I chose to ignore that comment. “It might not be so useless. This morning I thought I saw it glowing.”

“Might just have been a trick of the light,” Lockwood reasoned.

“Either way,” I said. “No one knows it’s lost its psychic charge apart from us.”

“I think it’s rather likely that someone who knew what the skull’s value used to be commissioned the Winkman’s to steal it for them,” said George, scribbling on the cloth in his illegible handwriting. “The fact that it would hurt you personally would be an added bonus for them.”

Just then, we heard the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking in the front door. We turned to see Holly and Kipps entering the hallway.

“You’ve been gone a while,” George remarked.

“Well, Quill is still a little slow on his feet,” Holly replied, entering the kitchen so she could set her shopping bag down on the counter.

“You could have stayed here, Quill,” said Lockwood.

“I’ve had more than enough of sitting around,” said Kipps, easing himself stiffly into the chair next to George. “Needed some fresh air.” He looked around at us all and frowned. “What are you all doing, then? Conspiring to destroy another agency?”

Holly was eyeing me concernedly. “Are you alright, Lucy? You look a bit frazzled.”

“Actually, no, Hol,” I replied. “The skull’s been stolen.”

Holly gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry!”

“How terrible,” said Kipps.

“Yeah, you sound distraught,” I said, sarcastically.

“Well, I can’t say I’ll miss that disgusting thing watching me eat breakfast,” said Kipps, and Holly cast her eyes to the floor in a manner that suggested she agreed with him. “But I am sorry it’s gone, Luce. I know it’s your best friend and everything.”

“He is not my best friend,” I said, glaring at him.

“No one’s judging, Lucy,” said George, grinning at me. “If your best friend is a ghost that used to live in a jar that’s fine by us.”

“He is not my best friend,” I repeated, shooting my glare towards George then back to Kipps. “And we’re getting him back.”

“Oh, really?” said Holly, trying to sound enthusiastic and failing horribly.

“Yes,” Lockwood affirmed. “George reckons the Winkman’s took it, so I should expect it’ll be appearing on the black-market sometime soon. You know what that means!”

“No disguises,” I said. “I’m still reeling from that time you nearly got beaten up by that old northern lady cos you got Yorkshire and Lancashire mixed up.”

“They’re both from the North!” Lockwood exclaimed. “Also, that war was hundreds of years ago, why are they still holding grudges?”

“And that is precisely why she started beating you with her handbag.”

“Also, I really don’t think you should go infiltrating any more secret operations,” Holly chided in. “Not after we just took down the Orpheus Society.”

“In a manner of speaking,” said George. “DEPRAC haven’t managed to track them all down yet.”

“Exactly!” Holly continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re somehow behind the skull going missing. And if they see you at some black-market auction, I doubt they’re going to be friendly.”

“It’ll be fine!” said Lockwood. “We’ve managed before.”

“You nearly got killed both times,” said George.

Lockwood ignored him. “All we need are some extra good disguises. And I promise I won’t try any accents this time.”

“I’m sorry, Lockwood, but I agree with Holly,” I said. “Maybe you shouldn’t go. You’ve been all over the papers lately. You’ll be easy to recognise, even with a disguise.”

Lockwood looked crestfallen and I felt a little guilty, but not enough to let him risk his life. “I suppose that’s true,” he conceded. “In that case, Quill and I could wait in a cab outside, while the rest of you go to look for the skull.”

“We don’t even know where it’ll be yet,” Kipps reminded us. “You’re just assuming it’s being put up for auction.”

“Ah, yes,” said Lockwood. “I think you’re going to have to have a little word with Flo, George. See if she’s heard anything. Then…”

There was a knock at the back door and everyone gave a little jump, then Lockwood pulled the door open to reveal none other than Florence Bonnard, in all her baggy-clothed, grimy glory.

“Speak of the devil,” Lockwood said, smiling at her.

“Alright, Locky?” said Flo, sniffing and wiping her nose with a sludge-covered finger, which did more harm than good in my opinion. Flo looked over Lockwood’s shoulder and, ignoring the rest of us, gave George a grin. “Hey, George.”

“Hey, Flo,” said George, grinning back at her. “What brings you here?”

Flo shoved past Lockwood to enter the kitchen and lean on the counter, leaving muddy footprints in her wake that made Holly wince. “Just thought you might like to know those Winkman’s are apparently doing trading with the Orpheus Society,” she said. “Word is they’ve got their hands on a type three ghost. One that sounds a lot like Lucy’s skull friend. That’s the kind of thing you wanted to hear about, right George?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Flo,” he replied.

We looked around at each other; our suspicions had been correct. For whatever reason, the remains of the Orpheus Society wanted the skull and had commissioned the Winkman’s to get it for them. And now we had to get it back.

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