Chapter Text
In the beginning, no one knew what was happening. People disappeared sometimes in the woods at night. It was never too many people at once; never so often to spark real panic. But every so often, it happened. Someone would head out into the darkness of the trees and not come back. Some people said it was magical gremlins – others, that it was fairies that had been angered by some slight or other. People left out fresh milk and honey on their porches as offerings, and moved on with their lives. No one thought much of it, though they warned all the village children to never go out into the woods at night. But there were always those who ignored the warnings.
No one quite knew how long it had been going on. Long enough that many people dismissed it all as pointless superstition. But then, things started to change. No longer was it only the shadowed woods that people disappeared from, but the outmost edges of town. But still, it wasn’t many people, and mostly it was people that the town felt certain they could live without. Searches were launched, the lord and lady of the land urged the townsfolk to be careful – to report anything strange to them. But life moved on, and nothing really changed all that much. Until the day someone came back.
…
Lucy Carlyle sat in the aisle seat of the train, ripping clippings out of her newspaper for any odd job she could find and pasting them into the small notebook she had left to her name. The countryside flashed by in a blur of sky blue and rich evergreen. She tried not to watch it slip past; tried not to stare as the green fields gave way to suburbs and then the concrete jungle of London. When the train pulled into the station, she disembarked with all the highly polished, dolled-up Londoners and wandered through the cavernous hall of Kings Cross Station in a muted state of semi-awe.
Preoccupied with her staring, Lucy did not notice the woman approach her until she was being handed a cheaply printed pamphlet. “Hello there! Are you new to London? Do you have someplace to stay? This city can be a dangerous place, especially at night. If you need to, you can come to one of our centres – ”
“No thanks. I’m fine, thank you,” said Lucy. Refusing the pamphlet, she moved off through the station. On her way out, she used what little money she had left to buy a map from the corner store. Armed with her map and her list of possible jobs, she struck out into the bustling streets of London.
…
London was amazing. People in pressed suits and sparkly day-dresses rushed past, briefcases or bedazzled clutches held firmly in hand. There were so many stores, brightly polished and bursting with everything you could ever need. Shop windows were scrubbed squeaky clean – there was not even dust in the corners like you found in every store back…well, not home. Not anymore.
Eventually Lucy managed to wrench her attention away from all the new sights and sounds that swirled around her. She focused in on her admittedly short list of potential jobs, and struck out for the nearest one. Hopefully, someone would be willing to give her a job and put her up for a place to stay too.
…
London, as it turned out, was even more ruthless than her home town. Lucy’s work experience consisted solely of running shuttles at her town’s local textiles factory, Moorgate Mill. The big loom did most of the work, but she had had to work with two partners – one advancing the fabric as it was made, the other standing across from her and catching the shuttle before shooting it back to her again. This meant her useful skills consisted of pulling the lever to shoot the shuttle, and that was about it. Even stupid jobs in shops here seemed to want more serious credentials she obviously didn’t have.
Going to work at another textile mill was also out of the question. As it turned out, her old town’s mill was woefully behind the times, and her position of shuttle-shooter was non-existent. When she managed to catch some mill-workers around lunch, they could only offer her sympathetic looks while kindly explaining to her all the ways in which her old position had been replaced by machinery – meaning her experience was worth nothing. It was just as well; Lucy didn’t think she could stomach working at another mill after what had happened the last time. She shouldn’t have been so surprised given the mill’s owner had declared there would be a night shift. Nothing good ever happened at night.
Interviews took her all over the city, to all different neighbourhoods. Nobody was willing to hire her on the spot. Well, one man had seemed like he might, but when she mentioned that she also didn’t have a place to stay, he had turned her away.
Lucy wandered despondently around the city streets. Now that the light was beginning to fade, the crowds of earlier in the day had started to thin. There were still so many more people around than her hometown though. It was almost disorienting. When the shops around her all started to shutter their doors for the night, Lucy began to second-guess her decision of rejecting that woman’s pamphlet at the train station after all.
…
Three days of pounding the pavement in the big city saw Lucy still without a job and a grand total of 5 pounds left to her name. In some respects, London was no different than her town. Nobody seemed willing to give you a second chance. You were what you were, and Lucy was a broke runaway. She had no skills that could get her a job, no family that could – or would – help her. No money left in her pockets.
She had spent the last three nights crashing at the way-shelters she had initially rejected upon her arrival. At this point, those were the only places that would let her in. At least it had meant that she had been directed to more job interviews. Not that it had done her much good, but it was nice of them to try.
Lucy was having more problems than just her dwindling funds and her lack of a job or a place to stay though. The longer she was in the city, the more she felt as though she was not safe. It was an itching feeling that tingled at her fingertips. The one and only time she had ever felt that before was at the mill in her home town, right before disaster had struck and ruined her life. She found herself shooting surreptitious looks over her shoulder to check that she was not being followed. The feeling always grew in intensity as night closed in. Some primal instinct told her to get indoors and stay there, preferably with her back against a wall well before the sun went down. She could not understand what was causing it. She knew better than to dismiss it though.
Lucy took a deep breath as she pushed open the glass door to her latest attempt at getting a job. It was a corner shop in a nice, well-kept neighbourhood. The owner’s name was Arif, and he was purportedly looking for a new delivery-girl. She’d heard about the job from the shelter she’d stayed in last night.
The bell tinkled and the door slammed shut behind her. Lucy nervously brushed her hand through her windblown hair and tried for a pleasant smile as she approached the woman at the register. “Hello,” she greeted, “My name’s Lucy Carlyle, I called earlier today to set up an interview for the delivery position?”
The woman at the counter had her hair brushed back into a sever bun, but her eyes were warm and friendly as she looked up. “Oh! That’s wonderful, and look, your right on time. Why don’t you wonder the shelves a bit while I zip back and get Mr. Arif. He’ll come get you when he’s ready for your interview.”
Lucy gave her thanks as the woman disappeared behind the counter into the backroom for the owner. Outside, the sky was turning orange as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. If this interview didn’t pan out, she was going to have to run to get back to the same shelter as last night if she wanted to be there before darkness fell.
Lucy saw the woman from the register emerge again from the back room. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. He’s just got to wait for the last batch of donuts to come out of the oven. Won’t accept anything less than the best for our two favourite customers!”
She laughed nervously with the woman before fading away between the shelves.
The sky outside was a vivid orange, the clouds splashed with crimson and purple hues. It should have been a lovely sight, like a painting from a gallery. But somewhere inside of her, Lucy felt alarm bells ringing. The ever-present tingling feeling in her fingertips she had been getting used to was climbing higher the lower the sun sank. Right now, it seemed somehow worse than it ever had been. Unless she counted that night at the mill.
The bell over the door tinkled as a sturdy-looking man stormed in with a frown on his face. Without even thinking about it, Lucy ducked her head and kept as many shelves as possible between this man and herself. Vaguely, she heard the woman at the counter treat with him in forced politeness.
“Yes, she’s the one. I must have her. Mine, mine, MINE.”
Lucy’s head jerked up at that. She had heard the voice so clearly. Yet no one was speaking close to her. A cold sweat broke out on her back and her heart pounded against her ribs. The man at the counter had not once glanced her way, but she knew. His nostrils flared and his upper lip twitched as if he wanted to bare fangs, yet he spoke cordially with the woman at the counter.
Lucy’s palms were sweating. Everything in her was screaming to get as far away from this man as quickly as possible and never look back. But it was at precisely that moment that Mr. Arif himself made his appearance. “Hello Ms. Carlyle is it? Wonderful, wonderful! If you’ll follow me, we can get started on your interview now.”
She tried he best to offer a smile back, but her arms were tingling up to her elbows and dread was seeping into her core. The one saving grace was that she was going to be leaving the room with the man that was making her anxious.
…
Despite whatever instinct was winding her up, Lucy’s interview went very well. Arif, as he preferred her to call him, was a kindly man. Unlike all the other times she had gotten this far, when she asked him if there was someplace she could stay, he was sympathetic.
“New to town are you then?”
“Yes,” she mumbled. She fervently hoped this wasn’t a deal-breaker for him. She actually quite liked Arif, at least so far.
“Hmm,” mused Arif for a few moments, stroking his stubble in thought, “Well, I’ve actually got a room you could live out of just above the shop.”
Lucy had been fully prepared shuffle herself out the door, but those words sent all her strange, lingering fear out the window. Well, most of it. Her fingertips still tingled incessantly. “You do?”
“I do,” agreed Arif, “It’s yours, if you take the job. It’s nothing glamourous, but it’ll be a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in with a door that locks, so it’s a sight better than what you’ll get at one of those shelters.”
That halted her for a second. “You know I’ve been sleeping in the shelters the last few nights?”
Arif gazed at her long and hard. “Yes, Ms. Carlyle, I do. You devoured the cookies I leave on my desk for when I feel peckish the second I said to help yourself. A young woman like yourself all by your lonesome in a new city? Doesn’t take much to guess that you’ve got nowhere else left to go. Plus, if you live here above the shop, it’ll be much easier for you to be here on hand first thing in the morning to help me with getting the ovens running and the donuts started. So, do we have a deal then, young Missy?”
Lucy felt a genuine smile spread across her face for the first time in a long time. “Yes, we have a deal.”
They shook hands to seal it. Arif introduced her properly to Laura, the woman who worked the counter, and explained where she’d be living. Laura welcomed her delightedly, and showed her the little store-room above the shop with the unused bedframe. It was draped in a protective sheet, which was quickly removed. “I’ll come up here after the shop closes and help you move all this other stuff out and get you settled. This is the perfect opportunity for me to bully Arif into getting rid of all this old junk.”
“Thank you Laura, really. You don’t have to.”
“Nonsense. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, Laura left her alone with her bag in her room. There was a little square windowpane, hardly 10 inches square that faced the setting sun perfectly. The window being so small might at any other time been a point against this little room, but Lucy felt something inside her settle. A wide pair of shoulders was not going to fit through that little opening. Though, why she needed to worry about shoulders fitting through her window, Lucy did not know.
Notes:
Ok, now that we've been through all of that, does this sound interesting? I could be persuaded to write more of this if people are interested (I'm kind of interested, but am really just using this to see if I can write cold turkey and not have it end badly at the moment). Comments? Suggestions? Ravenous demands for more? Uninterested? Let me know, we'll go from there.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Well, I couldn't let this go without making something of the story that's bouncing around in my head. I kind of actually want to see this thing through till the end (unlike my last longer story 😅), but I've got nothing resembling a schedule for posting, so here's to mystery!
Chapter Text
Lucy found herself quite content with her new job. Her boss from the mill had shouted and pushed like a drill sergeant breaking in fresh meat. Arif was kind-hearted and quiet-spoken. She had not heard him raise his voice once in the two days since her interview.
Though she had been hired as the new delivery-girl, Arif wanted her to understand the store first. She spent her whole first day sweating through her favourite jumper while filling, then emptying the large pastry ovens. Her second day was much more pleasant. She spent her time with Laura in the front, learning the register and how to find customer information.
“It’s a good thing to get in the habit of doing,” explained Laura, “If you know how to find where the deliveries are going, you can plan what order you go to each drop-off. That way, you won’t end up having to travel back and forth multiple times when you don’t actually need to.”
It was good advice, so she paid as much attention as she could. By the end of the day, Lucy was proud to say that she could navigate the system well enough to find everything she needed on her own. She’d even started planning delivery routes. Mind you, it had been at Laura’s prompting, and with her guidance.
All this meant that – since she also lived in the building – she hadn’t stepped outside since before her interview. But she found she did not mind staying cooped up in the building. She was kept busy all day, so she was not idle and did not end up feeling board. Her fingers tingled almost non-stop, but it hadn’t once been as bad as it was on her interview day. She hadn’t seen the same customer from then though, either.
Her one complaint was that she really did not enjoy the early start required to help Arif with the baked-goods. The first day, she stumbled down the stairs into the industrial kitchen with her hair still mussed and her jaw threatening to crack with a large yawn.
“Oh dear,” laughed Arif when he saw her, “Not much of a morning person then, are we?”
Afraid that this might be some point against her that could lose her the job, Lucy quickly shook off her morning grouchiness. “It won’t be a problem. It’s just I’m not used to the routine yet. I’ll get it though.”
Arif had waved her off good-naturedly and they moved on through the morning as if nothing had happened. The next day though, there was a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a small egg-and-cheese sandwich waiting for her in the kitchen. It was such a thoughtful gesture; she had almost burst into tears upon seeing it and had spent the entire morning helping Arif letting him know how much she appreciated the breakfast.
…
“This one’s set to go now,” called Laura from the counter.
Lucy waved good morning as she came up to grab the next box of pastries set out for delivery. It was her first morning actually running deliveries. She’d needed to hop to it the second the first batch of pastries came out of the oven. Apparently, there was a small coffee shop that had opened in the area using Arif’s to cater. They’d needed their pastries for before they opened to the public; as a coffee shop, that meant an extra early start for Lucy.
The speedwalk to the coffee shop had been nice enough. As mid-summer, the sun was already up and the air was cool and dewy from the night. Only her fingers tingled with that unsettling feeling. Strangely enough, at one point during her walk, she’d felt the tingling go away completely – something that hadn’t happened since coming to London. It did not last long, and she dismissed it as nothing of real note.
“Where’s this one going then?” asked Lucy as she grabbed the box of doughnuts and squinted at the handwritten label.
Laura laughed her trilling laugh. “Oh! That one’s going to our favourites; those two boys over on Portland Row. I’ll warn you; George can be a little cutting when you first meet him. But I think he’s really a sweetie underneath it all, if a bit eccentric. He’s the one in glasses. You don’t usually see much of his friend.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, curiosity peaked.
A dulled look passed over Laura’s face. “Oh, poor lad. I don’t know any specifics. Just strikes me as a private person. Don’t think he has good relations with his family; at least, it seems like he’s lived a hard life. You can see it in his eyes. But he’s well-spoken and charming enough, I suppose. The two of them are both barely old enough to be on their own, but that’s not my place to say.”
“Hmm,” mused Lucy, “Well, maybe the shut-in friend will be the one to answer the door and I can get you some answers today. Don’t charmers usually like to talk?”
Laura laughed, her pensive look from before disappearing. “I suppose they do. Be sure not to get too distracted talking though; you’ve still got other deliveries for today!”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
…
Oddly enough when Lucy set out to the address written on her delivery box, she found herself in the exact spot where the tingling in her fingers had stopped before. It was a nice part of town, with neat little row-houses all arrayed around a fenced park. Her fingers stopped tingling a house and a half before the door of 35 Portland Row.
Lucy rang the clamouring doorbell and waited on the step for it to open. She marvelled at how her fingers had stopped tingling, wondering what the cause was. Since she did not know what had originally caused the sensation in the first place, she found she did not have any good answers.
The door opened to reveal an older boy with glasses and a pockmarked face. “Oh good, donuts. You must be Arif’s new girl then.”
“Yes,” she answered, “I’m Lucy. You must be George. Laura from the shop mentioned you. Here they are then. And I think you owe me some money for that.”
George made no more conversation as he dug around in a pocket for the required notes. Lucy’s eyes skipped past him into the house. She saw an assortment of exotic and old-world items that looked to span the last few centuries at least. Clearly whoever owned it was either a collector, a world traveler, or both. She was not sure if it made sense to think that the elusive friend seemed more likely to be the owner of it all.
George handed over the money as movement sounded from deeper in the house. “George?” called a new voice. It was lilting and sounded like the perfect fit for some posh London boy to go with the fancy house. “Who’s at the door?”
“Donuts!” yelled George in answer over his shoulder. “Why are you asking?”
Lucy thought he suddenly looked tense. Why would he be put off by his housemate asking who was at the door?
From the shadows of the house emerged a tall youth, maybe one or two years older than George. He was rail-thin and pale as a ghost, but there was a sharpness to his eyes and a grace to his movements that belied both wit and surprising strength. George was ogling him like he had suddenly grown a second head. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
The other boy’s nostrils flared as he breathed out a deep sigh. He shot a meaningful look to George before giving her a thin-lipped smile that was kind-of more creepy than anything else. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mis,” the trailed off, clearly looking for her to give her name.
George however, beat her to it. “She said her name was Lucy.” The bespectacled youth was now gazing at her with calculated intensity.
Nothing else happened for long enough that Lucy felt it becoming awkward. “Right,” she mumbled as the intense scrutiny continued. “Well, I’ve got other deliveries to make today, so I’ll just…” She backed away rather awkwardly. Nobody else moved.
“Of course,” answered the other boy, “I’m sure you want to be finished well before the sun goes down. London can be a dangerous place, especially after dark. Stay safe then, Lucy.”
She shot a confused look over her shoulder as she scampered away. “Yeah, thanks. I will.”
Arif and Laura’s favourites or not, those two boys were weird. Like, really, really weird.
Chapter 3
Notes:
Hey guys, quick update here! I couldn't wait to get to the "reason to be concerned" part, so here it is! The suspense is starting to kill me, but the characters refuse to go faster, so we all just have to grit and bare it for the time being. Hopefully, you guys like it.
Chapter Text
Nothing strange happened as Lucy fled back towards the store. That is, unless you count the tingling in her fingers coming back with a vengeance the second she left the vicinity of 35 Portland Row.
“Those boys are so weird!” moaned Lucy the second she returned.
Arif, who was sitting at the counter while Laura stepped off for a lunch break snorted in amusement. “That’s why they’re our favourites little Missy,” he laughed, “They’d be boring if they were normal. Much more fun to gossip about the strange ones.”
It was not the commiseration she was looking for. But Lucy felt content that she was not the only one to think them maybe-slightly-mental. “Do you have any other favourites I should know about before I head out again then?” she grumbled.
Arif howled in laughter at her petulance. “No, no! Those are the only ones we’ve got. At least for now. But it’s never too late to find more!”
“No thanks,” she said, “I’d just as soon stick with the devil I know.” Arif’s chuckling followed her out the door as she headed to her next delivery for the day.
…
Minus the strange encounter in the morning, the day was a pretty mundane one. Delivery turned out to be less harried feeling than baking, but more active than the front counter. Lucy found she quite enjoyed it. She got to meet people all over the neighborhood she would otherwise have never even known existed. She was not the most sociable of people, and the deliveries provided her with a script for these new encounters that did not leave her feeling awkward. It also felt somewhat good to find out that the Lucy Carlyle ScowlTM was a very effective tool when people thought she was a push-over and they could get away with short-changing her.
“I had actually expected you to be short from those last few,” admitted Arif near the end of the day.
“You did?” asked Lucy.
Arif gave her a pained sort of grimace. “I’ve had more than a few delivery-girls who’ve had problems getting payments from those customers. I forgot to warn you beforehand. Thankfully, nothing bad has ever happened with them, or I’d refuse to offer them deliveries at all. It’s just that every so often, we’re short a few pounds here and there from them.”
“Which ones were those?” she asked, “We could put a note under the customer information so if anyone else ever does deliveries, they’ll know who specifically to watch out for.”
Arif gave her a startled look. “That’s…actually a very good idea Lucy. I’m kicking myself now for never having thought of it before.” He patted her on the shoulder in thanks before fading away to update the customer information.
As it turned out, Laura was always at the counter because she was the only one who knew how to actually work the system. This was precisely why Laura had wanted to teach it to her. It was also why Lucy found herself needing to rescue Arif from computer-duty and update the customer information herself 45 minutes latter when she returned from her last delivery.
Laura had flat out refused to help him. “I’ve already shown him how to do exactly what he’s trying to do five times. I give up.”
…
The sun was sinking and night was gathering as Lucy rushed back to the store from her final delivery for the day. Her arms tingled up to her elbows and there was a gathering feeling of dread in her stomach. She thought it might have just been her imagination, but she could swear she had seen things shifting in the shadows she passed. Always, when she looked properly, there was nothing there though.
Giving up her dignity, Lucy broke out into a sprint as she made her way down the final street before the store. She blew through the door, slamming it shut and bolting it fast behind her once she reached it. She braced herself, panting for breath as she tried to calm her racing heart. The tingling feeling was pitching and roiling through her veins. It sparked at her fingertips and made the air around her feel hot and clammy.
“Lucy?” came Arif’s voice from somewhere behind her, making her jump. “Is everything alright?”
Lucy went to say that everything was fine – make some excuse about why she had come barreling in like a battering ram. But she found she didn’t want to lie to the only person that had been willing to give her a chance. “I…don’t know if I am.”
Looking truly concerned now, Arif motioned her into his office. He already had a steaming kettle waiting, and poured them both out a bracing cup of tea. Lucy curled her hands around the warm ceramic and sipped it absently as her heart settled and the tingling faded once again into background noise.
“Was someone following you?” asked Arif.
She grimaced. “I…don’t think so.”
Arif took a measured sip of his own tea. “But you felt like something you couldn’t see might have been there.”
It was not a question, the way he phrased it. Her eyes shot up to him, startled. “Yes,” she mumbled.
“You didn’t expect me to believe you if you told me that was how you felt, did you?”
She fiddled with her mug, avoiding making eye contact as she answered, “No.”
She heard Arif let out a long sigh. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Lucy stayed silent for a long time, sipping her tea. The truth was, she wanted to tell someone. But she knew how strange it would all sound. No one had believed her back home. What proof did she have that Arif would believe her now? Ture, he had seen that something was making her afraid. But her fear would not change how many deliveries needed to be made during the day.
“Why does everyone keep telling me that London’s so dangerous at night?” she eventually asked instead of answering. “What really happens here once the sun goes down?”
Arif rubbed at his face in mild frustration. He clearly knew that she was avoiding the real problem, but was not willing to call her out on it. Not yet, at least.
“Sometimes,” breathed Arif, “we hear about people getting attacked if they happen to be out after dark. It’s never very many people at once, but it’s always the same. I won’t go into specifics – they are rather gruesome – but it’s enough to worry people.”
If it was really enough to worry people to the point where they would warn off random strangers, it must actually be pretty bad.
“An animal attack,” whispered Lucy, “An animal…with fangs.”
Arif eyed her shrewdly. “That is what they say.”
‘But you don’t believe that explanation,’ both of them thought, but neither of them said.
The songs of crickets were loud in the night. The air was cloyed and still. Lucy and Arif sat safely in his office drinking their cups of tea. Outside, shadows shifted. Something unknown prowled by.
‘I’ll have to be more careful with this one,’ heard Lucy. Arif had not opened his mouth. It was not his voice anyway, but Lucy wished it was. She watched him watch her, and hoped. ‘I’ll leave her be for now. Come back when she lets her guard down.’
Arif had not spoken. She had watched his mouth the whole time she heard the voice – the voice in her head that no one else could hear. He had not spoken. It was happening again, the same as last time. Lucy clenched her hands around her mug to stop them shaking.
Chapter 4
Notes:
I guess I've got a New Year's Eve present for everyone. I'm hoping this answers a few questions, while also being as mysterious as humanly possible, just for fun. The story'll start filling in the blanks in earnest soon, I hope. It depends on what the characters want, but I think point of contention that's sitting in my brain should be coming up soon, which also means the explanations are on their way. Let me know what you guys think?
Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter Text
Lucy spent the next few days running deliveries while also keeping a sharp eye out. She managed to finagle Arif and Laura into a routine which allowed her to return to the store well before the sun started to set. She did not want to run into whoever, or whatever might have been behind the voice she had heard that night in Arif’s office.
The strange shifting shadows and voices no one else could hear seemed to stop. Though the tingling feeling in her fingers never went away. It meant that she could not relax fully. Whatever was out there wanted her to think she was safe. The instinct that kept her fingers tingling all day – and especially all night – kept her from forgetting that.
The days past mundanely. Customers were always nice to her. Something she privately thought had more to do with the fact that she always came bearing sugary treats and baked goods than them actually liking her. The one exception was those two boys at 35 Portland Row.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” demanded George the second she showed up for their customary delivery. “I’ve never seen you before. Where did you live before this? Why did you come to London?”
Lucy paused in the action of handing over the box of baked goods and reaching for the money that was in the boy’s hand. “That’s none of your business, is it?” she snapped, “I didn’t come here for an interrogation from you. Now take your damn donuts, hand me the money you owe, and I’ll be on my way.”
It probably was not the smartest plan to be so rude to a paying customer. Something about George’s manner just rubbed her entirely the wrong way and put her on the warpath. She did not see hide nor hair of the other boy, who’s name she still didn’t know – not even Laura had known what he was actually called. George’s glasses flashed at her tone, but he did not comment further and complied with her demands.
…
The strangeness of the residents of Portland Row seemed to have infected their whole house. She had no idea why, buy every time Lucy got within a hundred paces of the place, the tingling feeling in her fingers stopped. It always started up again when she left the buildings vicinity.
It took a couple days to notice, but there was one other thing that was strange. At random points throughout the day, Lucy found the tingling feeling in her fingers mellow and fade. This always preceded her feeling as if she was being watched – though it did not feel threatening. She tried hard to find any reason for that happening, but came up empty. Until she noticed the bird.
“Laura,” called Lucy on her way out the door for her next delivery, “Do you see that bird over there? The black one with the white chest? Have you ever seen it before?”
Laura looked up from counting the products on the shelf to glance out the window. “Can’t say I have dear. Strange though, that’s not a native bird. Wonder what it’s doing here.”
Lucy did not have any answers, so she said nothing as she went on her way. It was only as she power-walked down the street with the next delivery in her hands that she realized her fingers were not tingling.
After that, Lucy realized that every time the strange bird appeared, she suddenly did not feel like she was a fugitive on the run. She could swear that the bird was specifically following her too.
“What do you want?” she growled at it one day on her way back to the store. The bird was perched primly on a wrought iron point of the nearest railing. It eyed her sideways like a tuxedo-clad businessman surprised at being addressed by the common-folk. “Shoo, you stupid bird. Stop following me.”
The creature only blinked one eye at her in response. It did not move a single muscle otherwise.
Lucy heaved in a deep sigh and moved on. She wondered all the while if she was not just going crazy – talking to birds that were following her around like a lost puppy.
That was not the last time she saw the bird that day. The next time she noticed it, it was across the street cleaning it’s feathers from a perch on the roof overlooking the road. Lucy scowled at it from across the road. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought it tilted its head in confusion at her upon noticing her look.
…
‘…must have…so much…mine, Mine…’
The moon glinted like a shard of glass in the sky. Wispy clouds drifted past, blocking the little silver light that managed to reach the ground before disappearing again. A tall man with broad shoulders sauntered down the alley backing the shop, melting with the shadows he passed.
He came to an abrupt halt when he noticed the form of a willowy woman emerge from darkness at the other end of the alley. Moonlight glinted off two sets of fangs as they were bared.
‘She’s MINE!’ snarled the hulking man of shadow.
‘Not if I claim her first!’ screeched the woman.
Lucy startled awake in her bed. The dream had been so vivid, so clear. She felt her heart pounding against her ribcage – her entire body tingling. She listened intently as she fought to control her breathing. Through the thick glass of her window – which she had quickly realized could not be opened – she saw a cloud skitter past in front of the crescent moon. Muffled sounds came from outside. If she was a gambling woman, Lucy would have said it sounded like two feral cats squabbling over who got to eat the mouse trapped between them.
An inhuman screech broke the stillness surrounding her and ignited the tingling in her veins into a searing heat like fire.
‘NO!’
‘Yes, MINE!’
She jumped when she heard the two unknown voices again from her dream scream in her head. At that exact moment, a shot of white flew past her window – the damn bird that had been following her.
She waited, clutching her blankets to her chest, listening for other sounds. Something was happening outside in the alley, but she was too frightened to get up and look to see what it was.
It was not too long before a howl of furry sounded in her mind.
‘GAR! I will have it! You will not stop me!’
But even as she heard the words, something deep inside told Lucy that whatever it was that voice wanted, they would not be getting it tonight. The pulsing awareness in her veins began to ebb away. A speck of white soared over the rooftops facing her window. A bird’s form landed and stood sentinel as clouds once again obscured the moon.
…
Lucy did not sleep well after waking from her dream – or whatever it had been, since it continued even after she was awake. Only once the sun had reached it’s highest peak in the sky did she brave venturing into the alley behind the shop to see what she might find. There was a dark patch of ground approximately half-way between where she had seen the man and woman in her dream. Strange piles of acrid smelling dust drifted in eddies around the stain.
A rustling above her head had Lucy turning sharply towards the sound. The white-breasted bird gazed down at her with unblinking eyes.
Chapter 5
Notes:
Things are getting interesting now, so I'm upgrading the rating to "Teen" over "General", just to be on the safe side. There's nothing too graphic in here, but I thought I'd offer fair warning to you all in case you're not prepared for the attack.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucy wasn’t sure what to think of it all. The dream, the stain and acrid smelling piles of dust in the alley, and the white-breasted bird that was definitely watching over her. That was what it had to be – the bird was guarding her. From what though, that was the question she was not sure she wanted answered. And yet it was clear that ignoring whatever it was, was not an option.
The bird was following her in earnest now. No longer was it flitting about and appearing for all the world as if it could not care less who she was. Usually, it appeared a few times a day to watch her. Today though, it did not matter where she went, it followed her. Always staying far enough away that others would dismiss it as nothing. But she knew better.
“I’m not going to be able to get rid of you, am I?” she asked it latter in the day. It’s chosen perch at the moment was the top of a high stone wall that bordered a local public garden. It sat there preening its glossy obsidian feathers before turning at the sound of her voice.
The sky was clear and the sun bright, and just so happened to be blazing down at her from right beside the bird’s head. She squinted at it for a second before the bird tilted its head and shifted over just far enough that it was blocking the direct sun from her face.
She let out a breath and gazed sternly at the thing, hands somehow landing on her hips in a stance of amused disapproval. “Fine then, be that way. Just make sure not to let other people notice how strange you are. Enough weird stuff happens around me all by itself without you making it worse.”
Maybe she was crazy, but the bird ruffled its feathers in what seemed like indignation. It was probably annoyed at her calling it strange. But hey, it takes one to know one, as they say.
So distracted was she by her confusing thoughts, Lucy forgot to be caustic to the one resident of 35 Portland Row she was on speaking terms with.
“Why are you quite today?” demanded George when she pocketed the money for the pastries she had just delivered to him. “You’re never quite.”
Lucy threw her fiercest glare at the boy for that. It did not seem to affect him in the least. “Oh, gee, thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today,” she snarked.
George gazed at her with calculating eyes again. Lucy decided she was not going to deal with this right now, but then George caught sight of the bird that had been following her and froze. The same way he had frozen when he had heard his housemate call up through their house that first day.
“My life’s still none of your business, you know,” she said faux-casually.
George seemed to take a moment to collect himself before answering. “Has anything strange happened around you recently?” he asked in what sounded as close to a placating tone as he could manage.
The question caught her up short – she had been expecting another one of his cutting remarks. “I…Why are you asking me?”
George pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them on his shirt as he thought about his answer. “You’re Arif’s delivery girl – you’re out and about in the neighborhood. It stands to reason that if something strange was going on, you’d be well placed to see it.”
“I haven’t seen anything strange.”
“Really?” he said sceptically. “So if I was to ask you if you’d seen any piles of bitter smelling ash, you’d look at me funny and tell me you hadn’t seen any?”
For a moment that stretched out like an aeon, Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. It was almost startling to feel her heartbeat pick up and pound against her ribcage in the absence of that all-encompassing tingling feeling she’d grown so used to – and which was absent now due to the house she stood in front of and the bird hiding somewhere across the street.
George watched her struggle to remember how to breath before nodding. “That’s what I thought.”
They both stood gazing at the other for a long time in silence. George broke first as he sighed. “Look, I know you don’t really like me; I don’t have an opinion on you either way. But there are things you don’t know – dangerous things. Dangerous for you specifically, that someone needs to explain. I know Arif’s shop is closed tomorrow because it’s Sunday. If you happen to have seen some strange things recently and want answers, there’s a coffee shop the other end of the street that’ll be open. Meet me there at noon. In the meantime, don’t let yourself get caught outside at night.”
With that strange declaration George nodded to himself, cast one last surreptitious look across the street, and closed the door.
…
Lucy meandered back towards the shop in a kind of daze; still dimly aware of the stupid bird following her. She turned the last corner and noticed a white van parked with the back doors open onto the alleyway behind the store. What appeared to be a city worker was sweeping up the strange ash she’d noticed earlier. Over her shoulder, she heard a surprised squawk before the tingling feeling suddenly came back with a vengeance and fizzled up her arms to her elbows. Looking around, she noticed that her bird-friend was suddenly gone.
Without that guarding presence, all the terror she’d felt last night after her dream came crashing back to her. Why was this city-worker here? Why would he care about a few piles of dust in an out-of-the-way alley behind a local store? It’s not like there was any shortage of other dust around. Crumbling leave blew in eddies through the alley; there was the odd extra-dark spot where someone had spat out their gum onto the ground to attract all manner of unmentionables for the rest of eternity.
Beyond all that, what had George been talking about? How had he known about the strange dust too? And what did he mean, that there were dangerous things she needed to know about? Things that were dangerous specifically to her.
Lucy realized with a shock where the sun was positioned in the sky – all her distraction meant she was woefully behind schedule. The lack of tingling feeling today had lured her into a false sense of security. Now that her guardian was gone, she realized how stupid that had been. She sprinted the rest of the way to the shop, intending to run if she had to to all the rest of her deliveries for today. She only hoped it was enough to get her inside before dark.
…
It was not enough to get her inside before the sun started to set. Running with cardstock boxes of fresh-baked goods covered in squishable icing and sugars was not a good idea. At least not if she wanted things to still look nice by the time she got to where she was going. People did not tend to like it when all the icing on their donuts stayed behind in its box when they pulled the pastry itself out. She knew she’d be devastated and grumpy at such a loss.
The shadows elongated as the sun sank lower. At this rate, it would be full dark before she reached the relative safety of her little room above the store. She tried to run faster. Her heart was throwing itself against the inside of her ribcage; her whole body tingled. Tremors flittered around her skin and across her scalp. Everything inside of her was screaming “Danger, run!”.
The last sliver of the sun’s form slipped beneath the horizon just as Lucy came within the last hundred paces of the store. She almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then she heard it, ‘YES, it’s mine now. MINE!’
She was already running for her life. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw a man’s hulking form detach itself from the shadows next to her. She saw flashing eyes devoid of mercy, and white teeth shining evilly in the gloom. A shock of recognition ran through her; this was the same man she had seen in Arif’s shop that had made her so uncomfortable the day of her interview. The voice she had been hearing, it had been him all along.
She had only a second to feel terrified shock before the man rushed her and sent her crashing into the ground to slide along the pavement several feet. Her palms stung and throbbed with their own heartbeat now that they had parted with some of her skin on the hard ground.
She gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of her, but still tried desperately to scramble back to a standing position. But the man was already on her.
She turned, intending to shove him off her with all the strength she could muster. Pearly-white canines, impossibly long and sharp flashed in her vision as the man slammed her back into the ground, dazing her once again.
‘Yes! MINE! NOW!’ sounded in her mind as hot fire fizzed through her veins.
In the same second, several things all happened at once. The man’s teeth sank towards her neck – right above her jugular. She screamed in terror at what was happening, hearing her voice echo with something more than sound. The screeching wheels of a car thundered towards her. And all at once, the fizzing feeling sparked to life in her veins and shot towards the man above her in a blast of air that had him stumbling back. But not before the tips of those canines grazed a searing trail along her skin.
She wheezed on the ground with lights dancing in front of her eyes – a boneless feeling spreading through her body making everything fuzzy. Sounds that might have been gunshots and a car skidding to a halt somewhere nearby percolated through her awareness. A shadow lunged for her; a gunshot sounded. And then acrid smelling ash rained down on her to reveal the moon shining overhead.
What might have been two voices speaking to one another started up somewhere nearby. She panted as the fizzing in her veins frothed and sloshed before beginning to settle. Crunching echoed next to her ear and her head flopped towards it. What looked like a silver badge emblazoned with the letters “DSRAC” glinted in her swimming vision.
She felt fingers press against the uninjured side of her neck and saw a white breasted bird circle overhead as her vision started to fade.
Notes:
Whoo damn, ok. We did this on the main road rather than the back alley like I thought we were doing. Excuse me while I go watch some videos of kittens sleeping in cups and dogs getting stuck somewhere with overlarge sticks. That felt a mite intense there for a hot minute.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed watching the shit hit the fan!
Chapter 6
Notes:
Ok, answers time! I tried not to fall into the info-dump trap, and I think I managed it (even if this is still a longer chapter). I don't think anybody starts talking about anything that it wouldn't make sense for them to talk about, so hopefully we're good on that front. I guess you guys'll be the judges of that though. Let me know what you all think?
Chapter Text
Something alike to awareness creeped slowly back towards Lucy. It no longer felt like she was laying on the cold hard pavement outside the shop. But she did not know where she was – not her own bed, that was for sure.
She found she could not open her eyes. Tiredness engulfed her whole body. She felt boneless and weak, and it scared her. Her whole body felt a strange disconnect – the same non-existence you feel if you are sitting wrong and your foot falls asleep, before you mange to stomp it back to life through pins and needles.
She tried to move, tried to force her limbs to respond. Dimly, she was aware of her fingers twitching, and her head flopping to the side. But that was all she could manage at the moment. As she tried flexing her hands, she realized that someone must have cleaned and bandaged her scraped palms. They pulsed strangely under tight bandages, but did not really hurt.
She groaned in effort as she continued to try to move. That was when she realized she was not alone, wherever she was.
“Looks like she’s regaining consciousness there doctor,” came a male voice devoid of any inflection.
Movement sounded next to her. Someone gently took hold of her chin and tilted her face back up towards overhead lights. She could see the crimson glow through her eyelids, but she could not pry her eyes open to look properly.
“So it would seem,” answered another voice, softer in tone than the first.
A finger thumbed one of her eyes open as a light was shone directly into it. She tried to flinch back as a spike of pain shot through her skull. Groaning as her breath hitched, she lost the thread of what was happening for several seconds.
“…was she bitten?” asked the flat voice.
“No,” came the softer answer, “No, just grazed by the looks of it. I can’t see any true puncture marks. But they broke skin, so it was enough for her to get a dose of venom. Looks like it’s hitting her hard too. We’d be having a very different conversation had you and Sergeant Wade arrived even a few seconds latter.”
A put-upon sigh sounded through the room. “Perhaps I should start giving Karim more credit. As much as I hate to admit it, he hasn’t been wrong yet.”
“He did manage to synthesize an effective anti-venom,” commented the softer voice. “I think he’s a good lad – prickly, but smart as a whip.”
“Don’t remind me,” intoned the flat voice. “See to it that she gets everything she needs. I have to speak with her once she’s stable.”
Footsteps sounded and a door opened then closed. Someone tilted her head to the side and prodded her throbbing neck. She smelled antiseptic and felt the sting of someone cleaning the scrapes that were there. A hissing groan escaped her, but she still could not muster enough strength to pull away.
“Easy their girl,” came the softer voice from before, “You’re all right.”
She heard tools shifting and things clinking, then a mask was placed over her face. She inhaled sharply in surprise, and got a lungful of whatever it was in the mask. It made her head go fuzzy again which scared her.
“There now, you’re ok. Just take deep breaths – the sedative is not going to hurt you. I’m going to give you a small shot of an anti-venom. You’ll sleep for a few hours, and when you wake up, you’ll feel much better.”
Lucy did not want to breath in whatever it was in that mask. She wanted to throw it off and run to the farthest corner of the earth and hide. And she especially did not want a shot of some mystery anti-venom. It was a person who had attacked her, not some venomous snake!
But she was too limp and lose-limbed to do anything. She felt the prick of a needle in her neck as the sedatives did their job and dragged her under again.
…
The next time Lucy woke, she found that her feeling and movement were fully restored. She blinked her eyes open, trying to take in the room around her. She lay in a standard hospital bed – the smell of antiseptic surrounding her. As she sat up, she realized there was an IV tapped to her arm and a heart monitor hooked up to her.
Lucy peered around; curious, but cautious too. The room was nothing special. It was exactly like any other hospital room you might find yourself in. Except something in her gut told her that this was not actually a public hospital. She found it did not feel unsafe, just unknown.
The wall facing her was covered in cabinets. The uppers were glass-paneled, with all manner of drugs and medial equipment displayed neatly in organized rows. The lower cabinets were crowned in unyielding stainless steel with a sink inlaid for doctors and nurses to scrub up. The east wall was filled with an enormous window, through which she could see a wide expanse of grass bordered by a wrought iron fence with silver adornments on every spike. Funny purplish pot lights lined the entire top of the window frame. Facing the window was the door to the room with its half-panel of glass letting her see through into the hallway beyond.
Before Lucy could do much more than take in her surroundings, the door to the room suddenly opened. A man in maybe his mid-forties bustled in, wrapped in clinical white scrubs and scribbling gibberish onto the clipboard held in his hands. So absorbed was he in what he was doing, he did not notice her draw away slightly and stare at him. The man made his way to the counter, deposited his clipboard, and then turned around and promptly startled at the sight of her.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, hand fluttering towards his chest, “You’re awake. Good, good. But of course you would be, we took you off the sedation hours ago.”
Lucy stared at the man. He was clearly some sort of medical practitioner. But he was surprisingly jumpy and seemed just a touch too scatter-brained for the job if you asked her.
“Where am I?” demanded Lucy now that she was noticed, “Who are you? And what…what happened?”
As she asked her burning questions, her hand traveled up to her neck where there was a neat bandage covering the scratches underneath. She absently traced the edges of it for a moment before her hand dopped absent-mindedly to the IV and began picking at the tape holding the needle there.
“Hey now!” exclaimed the doctor, “None of that. You need the fluids dearie, after what happened.”
He moved to stop her from picking, but Lucy was already strung out so high that she flinched back from him with wide eyes. He froze at the foot of her bed and slumped as he sighed, one hand running through his hair.
“Alright then,” said the man as he straightened up. He stepped away to retrieve his clipboard before coming back – though he did not move past the foot of the bed. Lucy relaxed a little more at the space she was given.
“Miss Carlyle, isn’t it? My name is Doctor Richard Bowman. I am a vascular surgeon under the employ of DSRAC – a specialized division of the police. Earlier tonight you were found by two of DSRAC’s London agents, one Sergeant Wade and Inspector Montague Barnes. You had been attacked and injured, so they brought you here for treatment,” explained the doctor.
“What happened to the man who attacked me?” asked Lucy as she processed everything the doctor told her. “Why was he there? What did he want? And why was…He had…”
“Why did he have impossibly long and sharp teeth?” supplied Doctor Bowman.
Lucy found she could only stare at the doctor in shock. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to explain everything that’s happened to you tonight, Miss Carlyle,” he said. “The Inspector will be along shortly. He’ll be able to answer any and all questions you might have. Right now though, my main concern is your health and well-being; so tell me, how are you feeling? Do your limbs feel heavy? Are you experiencing any numbness? Are you in any pain?”
Lucy shook her head and answered the doctor’s questions. She submitted herself to his examination – comforting as it was in its own familiar clinical-ness. He took her off the heart monitor, but left the IV in with a stern warning not to pick at it. Just as he was packing up his instruments to leave, a knock sounded on the door.
“Perfect timing, as usual, Inspector. I was just finishing up. She’s all yours,” called Doctor Bowman as a tall, dark-skinned man in a leather jacket entered – shining silver badge on his hip and gun tucked securely into its holster.
As Doctor Bowman left, both Lucy and the Inspector watched each other in silence. A small part of her felt nervous. The only other time she had ever met a police inspector was after that disastrous, terrifying night in the Moorgate Mill.
Inspector Barnes nodded to the Doctor and stood with an impassive face that gave absolutely nothing away. He did not move until the door closed firmly; at which point he seized the nearest chair and sat down level with her. “Miss Carlyle, I’m sure you have many questions about the events of tonight – foremost among them being why that man attacked you and what happened to him. I’ll reassure you that there is a good explanation for all of that. But it’s going to sound ludicrous to you, and I have to ask that you keep an open mind and save any additional questions you may have until I finish explaining.”
The inspector was brisk and direct – almost robotic. But he did not mince his words trying to coddle her, which was a quality she appreciated, even if it did also irk her somewhat. “Ok.”
Barnes watched her for several seconds before nodding to himself. “How much do you know about the supernatural, Miss Carlyle?”
“ ‘Supernatural’?” she asked, “You mean ghosts and ghouls…things like that?”
Barnes just stared at her with an expressionless face, “So nothing then.”
If the inspector had been less of a living statue, Lucy was sure he would be banging his head against the wall in frustration. “No Miss Carlyle. I do not mean fanciful stories of ghosts. I’m talking about magic. And vampires.”
“Magic…isn’t real.”
Barnes just stared at her.
“Ok, well, vampires certainly aren’t real.”
Barnes continued to stare at her. Now with a mildly exasperated expression marring his perfect stone face.
“But…people would know if things like magic and vampires were real though, wouldn’t they?”
“Why do you think we’re having this conversation?” asked the inspector. “DSRAC is an acronym that stands for the Department of Supernatural Research and Control. We are a top-secret organization integrated into every major police force in the UK. We concern ourselves exclusively with the governing and control of supernatural and other related phenomena. Which includes identifying magicals – people who can wield and have an inherent store of magic – and protecting them, as well as the general population against the attacks of vampires.”
Now it was Lucy’s turn to stare without saying anything.
Barnes blew out a frustrated breath before digging in his pocked for something. He pulled out a milky-white translucent stone with intricate designs carved on the surface and held it out to her. “Pick the stone up, Miss Carlyle.”
Bemused, Lucy did as she was told. The second her fingers came into contact with the stone, it lit up like a Christmas tree. It was so bright, she had to squint her eyes and turn away from it. It felt warm in her hand. Only then did she realize that she hadn’t felt the tingling sensation she was so used to since before she woke up in this place – before she had been attacked. Now, she felt something much like that sensation; only this time, it felt electrifying and powerful rather than frightened and scared. She dropped the stone when it started to heat up past the point of becoming uncomfortable.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, blinking spots out of her eyes.
“That, Miss Carlyle,” began Barnes, “Was a stone enchanted to light up at the touch of a magical. The colour and brightness are intended to indicate the strength of said magical’s abilities.”
Lucy swallowed thickly. “That was really bright.”
“Yes, it was.”
Well, shit.
“At least this explains why two different vampires have already tried to go after you,” said Barnes.
“I don’t follow,” mumbled Lucy.
Barnes sat there like a statue for a few heartbeats before he continued. “Vampires will feed on anyone, no matter who they are. But they have a particular interest in magicals. When a vampire feeds on someone with a magical ability, they can steal part of that person’s magical essence. This is important to them because if they steal enough magical essence, it affords them certain abilities they do not otherwise have.”
“Abilities like what exactly?”
“Like the ability to transform into a bat. Or the ability to hypnotize and control their victims mind to make feeding easier. And, in extreme cases, the ability to walk in daylight.”
None of that sounded very good to her.
“This is why one of DSRAC’s main focuses is locating and protecting magicals – it is the easiest way to handicap vampires and not allow them to become nearly as dangerous. You, Lucy Carlyle, are a magical – and one with more innate power than I have ever seen. Every vampire in the city – and possibly some outside of it – will be after you.”
Lucy was not sure what to think. This was, this was madness. Magic could not be real. Vampires could not be real. And yet, she had seen those fangs – had been attacked by a man that had knocked her down before trying to bite into her neck. She had sat cowering in a darkened corner of the Moorgate Mill, listening to the sounds of a dark shadow devour her co-workers and friends – people she had loved more deeply than her own family. A shadow that had walked like a man, and snarled like a rabid animal. A shadow that had been unable to find her, even as no one else escaped its notice.
Chapter 7
Notes:
I have somehow created moma bear Arif, and *I am not sorry* 😁
Chapter Text
“We do have to speak about your safety moving forward,” continued Inspector Barnes while Lucy sat agonizing over everything she had thought she knew. “It would be best if you left London.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” mumbled Lucy.
Barnes watched her with his expressionless face for a moment. “Based on your accent, your home town is located somewhere up north. Small towns are much safer than large cities. Vampires tend to congregate in larger population centres – gives them a larger food supply. I would recommend you to return home, Miss Carlyle.”
Lucy wrung the scratchy hospital sheets between her hands and avoided looking at Barnes. “But I wasn’t safe there either,” she whispered, “Something…happened. I was working at a textile mill. The owner decided everyone would have to work a few night shifts a week. We were all there together, and something…there was…I heard…”
Lucy was having trouble getting the words out. It was still so fresh in her mind; the terror of that night. The screams of her co-workers as they were killed. The crashes of splintering machinery and twisting metal. The snarls of something inhuman. And at the end of it all, the accusation in everyone’s eyes when she was the only survivor – one without a single scratch on her.
“I can’t go back,” said Lucy.
Barnes was quiet while she refused to look at him. “I see,” he finally said.
…
Barnes left not long after that without another word. Lucy did not know if that meant he was going to find a way to make her leave London anyway, or if he was retreating to find some other solution for ensuring her safety.
Left all alone now, Lucy was reduced to examining her surroundings in greater detail. Now that she was looking, she noticed the same purplish lights lining the top of the doorway as those that were over the window. Both the door and the window were inlaid with silver coloured wire mesh sandwiched between the layers of glass. The doorjambs and window frames were all carved with intricate patterns.
Eventually the door opened again and Doctor Bowman entered. “What’s with the funny lights over the windows and doors?” asked Lucy as soon as she saw him.
Once again his nose was buried in his clipboard, but he answered her anyway. “They’re special UV lights – a defence against vampires getting in. Sunlight contains UV rays – and while UV’s are capable of burning human skin after prolonged exposure – it burns vampires instantly. That’s why they only come out at night.”
Lucy glanced again at the window, “And what about the carvings and the mesh?”
She heard Bowman put his clipboard down and rummage through a drawer for something. “The mesh is made of silver wire – it burns vampires when they touch it. The carvings hide runes that ward against evil.”
Bowman made a sound of triumph when he located a box of what appeared to be medical nitrile gloves in the drawer and placed it on the countertop next to the sink. She watched him methodically scrub his hands in the sink before pulling on a pair and turning to her. “Now then, I think we can take the IV off you now – you’re not showing any more signs of feeling adverse effects following your attack.”
Lucy was quiet as the doctor worked. Her arm was feeling a little irritated. A bead of blood appeared as Bowman took out the needle. He quickly dabbed it away with a cotton swab before covering the spot with a small bandage and declaring her as good as new.
“I’ve given you a clean bill of health. Though I will warn you; protocol means your discharge is really up to the Inspector given your attack,” he explained as he scribbled away on his clipboard.
Lucy clutched her arm protectively as she slid towards the side of the bed. “Was that man really a vampire?” she asked.
Doctor Bowman froze for a second before looking up at her. “Yes,” he breathed, “I’m afraid he was.”
“When I was awake before,” continued Lucy, “I heard…there was something about venom?”
Bowman nodded in understanding as he shuffled his papers and stepped away again. “A vampire’s bite contains venom that works as a muscle relaxant and a blood thinner. The second they bite, their victim goes limp and their blood runs more easily. Both those things make it easier for them to feed.”
“But…I wasn’t really bitten, was I?” worried Lucy, “I’m not…”
Bowman turned to give her a reassuring look. “No Miss Carlyle, you are not going to turn into a vampire yourself; and no, you were not truly bitten either. The vampire who attacked you managed to graze your neck with their elongated canines enough to break skin and dose you with their venom – but they were stopped before they managed to bite down and actually feed on you. Mostly, you were brought to this facility because the effects of vampire venom are known to last for several days untreated. You were also having a relatively rare reaction to the venom and were experiencing a form of muscle paralysis.”
Lucy touched the small bandage square on neck. “That was why it was so hard to move?”
“Indeed it was; in essence, Miss Carlyle, you’re allergic and your condition was concerning enough that Inspector Barnes and Seargeant Wade brought you here for treatment.”
…
After going through some standard things she would need to watch for in the coming days Doctor Bowman was kind enough to bring her her freshly laundered clothes to change into. She felt much more comfortable once able to get out of the flimsy paper gown and enclose herself in her fluffy jumper. He then led her out of the exam room to a cozy-feeling waiting room – complete with squishy armchairs, refreshments and small pastries.
“Someone should be along shortly to escort you home,” explained Bowman, “I’m afraid at this point that it’s late enough to be called early, so I don’t know how much sleep you’ll be able to get tonight. I recommend you take it easy for the next day or so. But in the meantime, please feel free to help yourself to anything that’s here.”
With that, he left her alone. Lucy felt both bone-tired and wide awake. She was anxious and fidgety – she had learned that a fairy tale monster from old stories was actually real. And that those monsters would be coming for her…because she had magic. She had no idea what that would mean for her life going forward.
Was anything possible? Or were there limits to what you could achieve with magic? How could she have magic, when she did not think that anyone from her family had ever had it? What was she going to do if it was deemed too dangerous to allow her to stay in London?
Lucy’s musings were interrupted by the arrival of a new person she had not seen before. She was a stocky woman sporting what looked to be a permanent scowl on her face. The same shinny DSRAC badge and holstered gun adorned her hip as Inspector Barnes.
“Miss Carlyle,” barked the woman, “My name is Sergeant Wade. If you’ll come with me, I’m to take ensure you get home safely. But before we go, take this and put it on.”
Wade held out what looked like a simple leather cuff to her. Bemusedly, Lucy took hold of it and examined it, turning it over and over in her hands. The outside was relatively plain with only a simple repeating leaf motif pressed into the leather. The inside however looked like real silver, and was engraved with a series of what looked like runes. “What is it?” she asked, wary of the little cuff. Her fingers tingled where she touched it, but it did not give her any bad feelings.
“It will help to mask your magical aura,” explained Wade, “You should wear it at all times – especially at night – until something more permanent can be arranged to protect you.”
Wade glowered at her continued dithering, so she obediently slipped on the cuff. Satisfied with that, Wade nodded to herself and led her through the compound to an enclosed garage. They clambered into a regular-looking patrol car, and then were off.
…
Wade was silent as they drove back to Arif’s shop. Lucy continued to examine the cuff; still unsure if she wanted to trust these people or not. It was not that she felt threatened in any way by them – it was more, she somehow felt like she should have already known they existed.
The more Lucy thought about it, the more likely it seemed to her that what had happened at the Mill had been a vampire attack. And if it was a vampire attack – and these people were an entire secret police force dedicated to protecting people against vampires – shouldn’t they have known about it? Shouldn’t they have investigated the incident, suspicious as it had been?
But that had not happened. The regular police force had investigated – mostly coming up completely empty. And her whole town had quietly blamed her for the incident. Never mind that there was no way she could have twisted the machinery in the mill like that, crushed and gutted her co-workers and friends all by her lonesome.
Maybe she was in danger. Maybe vampires – and magic – were real. Maybe there really was a secret police force dedicated to containing the supernatural and protecting magicals. But maybe, too, they were not all they were cracked out to be.
“Why do you have a gun?” asked Lucy into the silence halfway though the car ride back, “I thought silver bullets were only for werewolves?”
Wade threw her what seemed to be her customary glower. “Werewolves don’t exist,” she asserted, “And while silver bullets would hurt a vampire, it would not kill them.”
“Right,” hedged Lucy, “So you carry a gun instead of a wooden stake because?”
Wade scowled at her for real this time. “Because, the bullets are tipped in ironwood. It’s much easier to shoot a vampire in the heart with a wooden bullet than to get close enough to stake them and risk getting bit.”
Lucy did not ask any more questions after that. It did not seem like it would be welcome. At least now she knew that she only had to worry about vampires, and not werewolves too. Although, if the old stories were anything to go by, she might have actually been pretty safe with werewolves as sworn enemies of vampires.
…
The lights were still on in the store when they arrived. Wade motioned for her to stay put as she drew her weapon and inched towards the door cautiously. Peering through the windows, Lucy could just make out the form of Arif pacing around behind the checkout desk speaking animatedly into the phone.
Wade eased the door of the store open slightly, not letting her guard down in the slightest. Arif’s agitated voice from inside began drifting out to them.
“…I don’t care what your protocol says! The girl is missing, and if you don’t put out a notice, so help me…” yelled Arif into the receiver of the phone.
Lucy felt her heart swell upon hearing that. She had not thought that Arif would notice her absence, it still was not quite daylight out, and the store would be closed tomorrow anyway. But he had somehow realized that something had happened to her, and was angrily trying to get someone to do something about it. She suddenly found herself blinking her eyes rapidly against the hot feeling of wetness that gathered there.
Wade glanced back at her, nodded to herself, then stored away her weapon and knocked decisively on the door as she pushed it the rest of the way open. She threw a cautious look around the deserted street before motioning for Lucy to follow her into the building.
Arif whirled around, phone sill in hand, looking for all the world ready to rip into whoever had dared to disturb his store so late at night. It took him only a moment for his eyes to find Sergeant Wade, then jump to her. Lucy waved timidly at him.
“Nevermind, goodnight,” snapped Arif into the phone before slamming it down on the receiver. His eyes found her bandaged palms, then flew up to her face, but got stuck on the small square of gauze taped to the side of her neck.
“Oh my goodness,” he gasped, “What on earth happened Lucy? I came back to the store, having forgotten my jacket, only to realize you were nowhere to be found! And I know how uncomfortable you’ve been feeling if you happen to be out after sunset, so I was immediately worried.”
Lucy moved past Wade – who’s grim façade seemed to have softened somewhat – and was immediately pulled into a crushing hug by the old shop-keeper. After a few suffocating minutes, he stepped back to give her another once-over before turning expectantly to the police Sergeant standing in their midst.
“Mr. Arif,” began Wade in her brisk tone, “My name is Sergeant Wade. Inspector Montague Barnes and I were following a certain person of interest in one of our investigations, and Miss Carlyle had the misfortune of crossing paths with them. They collided and fell to the ground, resulting in Miss Carlyle sustaining minor injuries before we were able to deal with the suspect. We merely saw fit to take her to receive medical attention.”
An angry look Lucy had never once seen on Arif’s face before flashed past; his grip on her shoulder tightened for a moment before relaxing. “And the suspect?”
“He has been dealt with, Mr. Arif, and will not be bothering anyone else ever again.”
Arif fussed over her as Sergeant Wade left, making sure that she had anything and everything she could possibly need. Apparently, he baked when he was nervous, and had busied himself with making her favourite treats while she had been gone. So she was able to gorge herself on fresh goods before collapsing into bed.
Lucy noticed the low hum of tingling in her fingers return as she left the DSRAC compound. It was still present now, but it was not nearly so bad that she was afraid of some new horror attacking her tonight. The second Wade’s car disappeared from view though, she noticed the same bird alight on the shop’s windowsill, and the feeling faded once again. With her friend watching over her, and Arif anxiously baking while making the whole store smell like vanilla and cinnamon, she fell asleep rather quickly.
…
It was quarter-after 11 the next morning before Lucy emerged from her little room above the shop for something to eat. Arif had apparently remained behind, refusing to leave her on her own given what had happened. This of course meant that there was a shockingly sumptuous spread left out for her breakfast…well, brunch more like.
Making the most of the rare opportunity she had, Lucy took her time to eat her fill that morning. By the time she was sitting down with a cup of tea next to Arif and pleasantly full, it was already 10 to noon, and she was not even dressed yet. She was watching her bird friend sit cleaning his feathers on the rooftop across the street from them when she finally remembered – she had agreed to meet with George from 35 Portland Row at noon today.
The initial shock raced through her, but she forestalled herself from jumping up and rushing off right away. Could she trust him? She had a pretty good idea of what he had been referring to when he had said that there were dangerous things she needed to be told about – her being magical and therefore sought after as vampire chow was a pretty important thing to know. There was likely some rule about talking about those things to the general public. But he had still been willing to explain things to her – if that was indeed what he was talking about. And then there was the fact that she had felt safe in the vicinity of his house since the very beginning. Though she knew now that Arif truly did care about her, she still did not feel the same security here as she did there. Not unless her bird friend was hanging about, and that was nothing certain.
Arif startled as she jumped up and went taring off to get dressed. When she came rushing back down the stairs, he was waiting for her. “What’s gotten into you now, little missy?”
“I almost forgot,” she rushed, “George from Portland Row had something he wanted to talk to me about today. I’m supposed to meet him at the coffee shop down the road, in like, 3 minutes.”
Lucy scowled as Arif gave her a slightly knowing smile. “Ah, I see. Well, have fun on your coffee date, but don’t stay out too long, ok?”
Lucy decided not to dignify that with a response as she rushed out the door.
Chapter 8
Notes:
Ok, this one took a little longer than the others to get out. One of the drawbacks of writing down a scene and just sort of running with it until you've got a story is that when you run out of immediate signposts of "I want to get there, how do I get there?" things become a little muddled.
Had to re-write this thing a couple times, and I'm still not completely certain about it, but I think it's good enough. I sort of know where we're heading now, so we should be good. (🤞🏻)
Chapter Text
‘So much for taking it easy,’ thought Lucy as she raced down the road. Thankfully, the coffee shop that George had mentioned was only about a ten-minute walk away, so she was not abhorrently late as she skidded to a halt in front of the building. She took a second to pull herself together before heading in. Nervously, she scratched at the bandage hidden under her turtleneck jumper and thanked her foresight in grabbing it. And yes, it was foresight, not a fluke, thank you verry much.
Her bird friend flew past and alighted on the back of a bench stationed in front of the coffee shop. Lucy took a breath to steel herself, and then pushed open the door and walked in. Looking around, she spotted George sitting alone at an out-of-the way table in an oversized puffer jacket. It just so happened that the table was located in a lonely corner fronting onto the street where her bird friend was stationed. An open window let in the fresh air and the hum of activity from outside. George was nursing a cup of tea and a Boston cream donut.
Lucy saw his eyes flick to the bird outside on the bench before immediately finding her walking over to him. He swept his eyes over her, lingering for a fraction of a second on her bandaged hands, the leather cuff on her wrist, and the collar of her shirt. “You figured out for yourself why I told you you were in danger yesterday, didn’t you?” he asked the second she sat down. “I did tell you not to let yourself get caught outside once the sun went down.”
Lucy scowled at him. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I had a job that I had to do! I couldn’t get back from all my deliveries in time!”
George shrugged nonchalantly before motioning to her new leather cuff. “Looks like DSRAC is involved now, so you know what’s really going on.”
Lucy breathed heavily and tried to reign in her temper. She wanted to snarl and fight this overstuffed jerk with zero social skills. But she also wanted answers from him and could not afford to alienate him. At least not completely, anyway. “How did you know about me?” she asked, “The inspector I met had to use a funny stone to figure it out, but you knew. How did you know?”
George was quiet for a second and opened his mouth looking uncertain of how to answer. He was saved from the necessity by another voice, “He knew because I knew, Miss Carlyle, and I told him.”
Gorge went ramrod straight in an instant, suddenly looking furious. “What do you think you’re doing!” he hissed under his breath.
Lucy whipped around only to come face to face with the other boy she had seen that first day at Portland Row. He sauntered up, pulled out a chair and sat lounging back as calm as you please – shooting George a closed-mouth trying-for-innocent-but-still-slightly-creepy smile before looking back to her.
The new boy was wearing a crisp button-down shirt, black slacks and a long overcoat. The overall effect of the black-on-white instantly made her think of her bird friend. She turned to stare out the window, and found that the bird was nowhere in sight. The lack of unsettling tingling in her fingers though, meant that he had to be around somewhere. Spinning back around to face her two table-mates, she found George watching her with calculating eyes, and a bemused look of interest on the new boys sharp-featured face.
She flexed her fingers under the table in her lap, and she knew. “You’re the bird!” she hissed, staring in shock at the boy, “How are you the bird?”
A look of unbridled shock passed over the new boy’s face before it disappeared. George suddenly leaned forward, looking at her as if she was the most interesting specimen he had ever seen. “What are you talking about?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice.
“The bird that’s been following me!” she said as she flailed, “You keep going all funny when you see it. And it…looks like him! And it…you…feel the same! How are you the bird?”
A ringing silence filled the space for the span of several minutes – both boys looking at her in shock. Clearing his throat while cleaning his glasses, George broke the staring match that had sprung up. “You said he… ‘feels the same’,” began George, “What does that mean exactly?”
Lucy chewed on her words for several seconds before she could figure out how she wanted to explain. “I don’…it’s just…I don’t know, alright?” she grumbled, “My fingers have been tingling since I got to London, and the only time it stops, is when I’m near your house! Or when that bird was around – when you were hovering!” she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the new boy.
He watched her bemusedly. “Your magic’s been giving you warning signals since you arrived in London? It doesn’t just happen when you’re in active danger?” he asked quietly.
“And it only stops when he’s around?” interjected George. He was watching her as if she was making him rethink his entire world-view.
But their amazement was periphery to her. The new boy’s questions had, somewhat by accident, given her some of the answers she had been hoping for. “Is that what’s been happening? The tingling feeling, that’s my…magic…trying to warn me?” she whispered.
An undefinable look passed over the new boy’s face. “You really didn’t know anything about any of this before last night, did you?”
“No,” she murmured, “No, I didn’t.”
George nervously cleaned his glasses. The new boy watched her with bright eyes. “Did no one in your family ever explain about your magic to you?” he asked.
Lucy blinked at him. “I…don’t think there is anyone in my family who could have done that. I think I’m the only one.”
“That’s unusual,” mused George, “Magic usually follows family lines. Especially when it’s strong like yours is.”
“Unusual, but not unheard-of,” commented the other boy, “You’re the only one in your family that has any magic.”
George rolled his eyes, “Yes, and I barely have enough magic to turn the page of a book with. You’re using an inexact parallel. Out situations are completely different.”
The other boy ignored George’s petulant tone as he continued, “So you don’t know anything about your magic; how you can control it, what you can do with it?”
“No,”
“Barne’s really shouldn’t have sent you off with nothing but a Concealment Cuff to protect you,” stated George as he pushed his glasses back onto his face. “It’s not going to be enough.”
Trepidation spread though Lucy as she watched him. “What do you mean, ‘It’s not going to be enough’?” she snapped.
“If no one ever taught you about magic,” began the other boy, “Than no one ever taught you how to mask your magical aura. The Concealment Cuff you got from DSRAC helps with that, but usually it’s an added layer of protection on top of what you can do for yourself.”
“It might already be too late to keep your existence secret from the vampires in the city,” explained George. “That’s the best way of keeping magicals safe – keeping the vampires from learning about them in the first place.”
“Well then, what am I supposed to do now?” worried Lucy, “If it’s already too late?”
George pulled out a notebook and a pen, then started scribbling away in it. “Well, the first thing you need to do is make sure you have somewhere safe you can go,” he explained. “The best way of doing that is by securing the place you live against vampires.”
“How do I do that?”
George tore out the page he had been scribbling on and handed it over to her. “These are runes for warding off creatures with a shattered soul – in other words, vampires. Copy and carve them into every door and window frame. They don’t need any magic from you to work.”
Lucy took the sheet and looked over the runes interestedly. “But I live above Arif’s store,” she said, “Won’t he notice if there are suddenly all these little carvings all over the place?”
George shrugged. “If Arif likes you, you could probably get away with putting them in noticeable places. If you want them to be more discrete, carve the runes into the tops of door jams. People don’t tend to look up.”
The other boy shot George a searching look at those words. George studiously ignored him, taking the time to methodically put away his pen and notebook.
“This is only helpful when I’m at the store though,” mussed Lucy, “What about the rest of the time? It’s still my job to run deliveries. What am I supposed to do then, walk around with a necklace of garlic?”
The other boy let out a surprised snort that startled her. He threw his head back, hand covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter. He was still shaking with suppressed mirth when George decided enough was enough and cleared his throat, pushing his glasses further up his nose.
“Ah, yes. Garlic doesn’t actually work on vampires. That’s just urban legend.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that!”
“My apologies Miss Caryle,” managed the other boy after taking a deep breath, “I shouldn’t have laughed at you when you couldn’t have known any better.”
Lucy glowered at him in annoyance. He offered her a thin-lipped, contrite smile that still managed to be slightly creepy. She wondered why he kept his lips pressed firmly together any time he smiled. It just made him look eerie.
George shuffled about papers in his bag for a moment before speaking again. “Alright, moving on. Unfortunately, there isn’t a foolproof way for you to ward yourself against vampires. The runes I gave you are only effective when used on thresholds, so they would not be effective if you were to stitch them into all of your clothes, or even draw them on yourself. You are not a threshold.”
“So then what do I do?” she asked.
Both boys regarded her silently, but it was George who spoke first. “It would probably be best if you left London. There are a lot less vampires in the countryside – less people to feed on. It’s also harder for them to hide their attacks when everyone in town knows everyone else. Vampires tend to want to avoid notice as much as they can.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispered.
Her two companions looked at each other – an entire silent conversation happening in front of her she could not make anything of. “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think your thinking,” grumbled George.
“She can’t stay where she is, and she needs someone to teach her,” answered the other boy.
“So what, your going to teach her?”
“I think you’d be better at that then me. You have a better understanding of magic than I do.”
“You have more experience than I do.”
“Most of my experience will not be the least bit helpful to her.”
“This affects you more than it does me. You know if we do this, she’s going to find out, right?”
The other boy stayed silent after that, but he did not break eye contact with Geroge. George broke first, sighing as he once again removed his glasses to clean them on his shirt. “Fine – you win.”
“I’m still here, you know,” grumbled Lucy. She was slightly annoyed that they seemed to have forgotten she was there too.
The other boy turned to her and gave her a close-lipped smile. “The job that you have, running deliveries for Arif is never not going to be dangerous for you, Miss Carlyle. It gives vampires plenty of opportunities to attack if you happen to have a longer day and end up staying out late. Especially since you do it alone. If you can’t leave London, the next best thing would be for you to find a safer job.”
“But I couldn’t get any other job! I tried when I first got to London!”
“Which is why we have an offer – come and live with us,” said the other boy, “You can help George with his investigations for DSRAC, so you won’t be imposing. There’s a room on the top floor of our house with its own bathroom you can have. You did mention that our house is the only place your magic doesn’t send you warning signals. We can teach you about magic, give you something to do that puts you in significantly less danger, and give you a place to stay where you’re not constantly on edge.”
Lucy was stunned silent for a long time after that declaration. “Why would you do all that for me?”
It was George who answered her. “It’s his self-appointed mission to help every magical he comes across in any way he can,” he said, “Even though it doesn’t need to be.”
The other boy looked away without commenting.
“I don’t even know your name,” commented Lucy. She was not sure what she wanted to do. If everything they had told her was true, she had to change something. These two boys were offering her a kindness she had never known; she was wary of it. There was obviously something they were not telling her. But at the same time, she still felt like she could trust them both. She did not know what to do.
It took several heartbeats for the other boy to answer her. “Everyone just calls me Lockwood. It’s my last name.”
Chapter 9
Notes:
I am currently sitting in the stands with a tub of popcorn watching the show, as I have released Protective!Lockwood and Stubborn!Lucy into the ring together, along with our saint George who comes in as the voice of reason.
Also, there's a reference to an old Greek myth I probably got somewhat wrong because all I did was a quick google search to find an old story about a female heroine I thought Norrie would like so Lucy could still have a book that reminds her of Norrie. All that to say, if it's wrong, I'm sorry? Also, if you happen to know a good compendium of old Greek myths, I'd very much like to read it!
Chapter Text
As much as Lucy wanted to dig deeper, she realized that Lockwood must be a very private person. Maybe he did it to protect himself – he must have been sought after by vampires too, since he had enough magic to transform into a bird. Maybe it was because he had other people in his life with magic that were not able to defend themselves. They could be targets just as much as him.
Whatever the reason, Lucy did not pry. No matter how much she wanted to. She also did not bend completely to the will of these two boys either.
“I not moving in with you right now,” she declared once she made up her mind. “I don’t know anything about either of you, really. I appreciate the offer, but just – not right now.”
Lockwood had vehemently argued against her staying put where she was. George calmly listed all the logical reasons she would be better off if she did accept their offer. She stubbornly refused to budge though.
It surprised her just how much the thought of her not being somewhere unequivocally safe bothered Lockwood. She had literally only found out his name today. Why on earth would he care so much about her? No one else in her life had ever cared that much. At least, they had not in the past. Arif seemed like he genuinely cared for her; Laura probably would too, but that was a very recent development.
The three of them ended up arguing rather forcefully, until George was able to come up with a compromise that respected her wishes while also mollifying Lockwood’s insane protective tendency somewhat. “How about this,” he said, cutting into the latest clash of wills between her and Lockwood. “You don’t want to move in with a couple of complete strangers, which is understandable – don’t look at me like that you twit, it is reasonable. We don’t want to hear about something terrible happening to you. What if you go back to Arif’s and continue your job as normal – but, an hour before the sun starts to set, you let Lockwood follow you in his other form. Once your off-duty, you can give us a call at the house and we can talk about anything you want for as long as you want. That way, you’re not risking being alone or going out after dark, and you get to know us in the process. Next Sunday, we can meet and present our offer to you again for your final decision. If by then you still reject it, we’ll leave you alone.”
Lockwood still looked mutinous at this suggestion, but Lucy quite liked it. She sat in silence while she mulled it over. George waited patiently for her answer. Lockwood sat brooding without making eye contact. “You’re not allowed to follow me all day,” she declared after giving it a long hard think, “Just when night is close.”
Lockwood’s eyes flicked up to hers, still looking stubborn.
It was funny, really. She had grown to quite like her bird friend. It somehow made it so much more awkward now that she knew he was actually a person. She still did not feel threatened by it – she knew what he was doing and why. She did not want someone to be watching her every move though, no matter how well-intentioned.
“I won’t agree to this at all if you don’t promise me that.”
George gave Lockwood a look which he ignored. The tension built gradually until Lockwood let out a resigned breath. “Very well. You have my word, Miss Carlyle. I will not follow you throughout the day.”
She gave him a challenging look. “Thank you.”
…
By the time Lucy got back to the shop, Arif seemed to have abandoned his post and left. Lucy sat in her room with a spare pencil and scrap pieces of paper she had nicked from downstairs for drawing. It was something she had always enjoyed doing. She sketched things she had seen around town on her deliveries. Flowers, trees, a scene in a park, even the bird. She spent the most effort on the scene of the park, hoping it would turn out well and she could gift it to Arif as a thank you. She hid away the image of the bird between the pages of Norrie’s favourite old book – the old Greek story of Atalanta, who was so fleet of foot that no man could beat her unless they begged the help of a god and cheated.
When she tired of her drawing, Lucy pulled out the paper George had given her. She rummaged around and found an old letter opener hidden away in the back of a drawer in Arif’s office. Taking her spoils, she set about carving the runes into the top of her door and window frame where they would be least noticed.
A few hours before she started thinking about making supper, the phone in Arif’s office started ringing. Since the store was closed for the day, she initially ignored it, but it did not take long for it to become annoying. Deciding enough was enough, Lucy marched into the room and picked up the phone – no trace of a pleasant customer-service voice to be found.
“Hello?” she snarked into the phone.
“Well, I certainly hope this is not how you answer the phone during opening hours, little missy,” came the voice through the phone.
Lucy almost dropped it in surprise. “Arif! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you!”
“That’s all right. The stores closed today anyway. I just wanted to make sure you’d gotten back ok before I hung up my hat for the night,” he chuckled. “You are alright, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good, good. I hope you have an uneventful night this time.”
“You too Arif. Have a nice night.”
She hung up the phone and continued on with making supper for herself, content for the moment that nothing bad would happen tonight.
…
An hour and a half before sunset, Lucy called up the boys at Portland Row, as she had promised she would.
“Hello?” called the voice through the phone. It sounded like it might have been George.
“Hi, it’s Lucy,” she answered.
“Oh, yes. Our deal. I guess I’m required to ask you if there is anything you want to talk about now,” came George’s voice. “So, is there?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she thought. “How am I supposed to let you know if I’ll be out latter so Lockwood can find me?”
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll be able to find you.”
“That’s not creepy at all,”
“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that. Maybe it’ll make him remember to look past the end of his own nose more often.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say to that, so conversation died almost as soon as it started. “Well, I don’t have anything else to say now. So I guess I’ll say goodbye?”
“If that’s what you want,” answered Geroge.
“Ok, bye,” she said.
Lucy did not think about the boys again that night. At least, not until the sun had gone down and she was about to climb into bed. She spotted a white-chested bird fly past and land on the roof facing her window. Lucy stood scowling at it with her light on in the room, making sure she could be seen through the window. Bird-Lockwood gave her the dramatic, bird equivalent of a bow before standing straight as a sentinel once again. She huffed in annoyance, then closed her curtains and climbed into bed. If something in her chest fluttered at the thought of someone caring enough to watch over her through the night like that; well, no one but her had to know.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Monday dawned, the world outside was bleak and rainy. Lucy rose early to help Arif start the pastries for the day, as she always did. Since her fingers were not tingling, she knew that Lockwood had to be lurking around somewhere nearby. It was still about an hour to dawn, so she was not yet annoyed at him. She waved at his bird form when she dashed out in the pre-dawn light to make her first delivery of the day.
Arif had apparently told Laura about the incident she was involved in. When the other woman arrived at the store, she fussed over her, paying particular attention to the scrapes on her neck. “I can’t imagine how you managed this from a simple tumble,” she worried as she changed the bandage for her. “This is a strange place to get cut.”
Lucy tried to shrug it off as best she could with the other woman holding her head in place. “When that man barrelled into me, I kind of hit the ground at a funny angle,” she hedged, “It was just my luck that there happened to be a couple sharp stones stuck right there that scraped me as I slid on the pavement.”
Laura continued to tut and fuss over her until Arif had to come out and remind them all that Lucy really needed to be getting to her deliveries. She rushed out the door after that, not wanting to get stuck outside after dark, no matter that she was supposed to have backup if things went south or not.
She huddled under her umbrella as she rushed from place to place. Lockwood did not approach her as he followed, uncaring for the rain that splattered down on them. He stayed out of the way, and out of the notice of passers-by until an hour after the sun had fully risen. Before he officially departed, she saw him do a kind of pirouette in the air that made it look like he was waving goodbye. Despite herself, Lucy smiled at how ridiculous he was, even as she made sure he saw her roll her eyes at him.
Nothing interesting happened as she ran her deliveries – something for which she was very grateful. Her day passed normal and pleasant. None of the customers tried to stiff her, and nobody gave her a hard time.
When bird-Lockwood left, the tingling in her fingers came back – a dull thrum that scrapped against her senses and put her on high alert. At some point, the feeling of being watched returned, but she did not think she was in danger from whoever was watching. She knew it couldn’t be because of Lockwood; her fingers were still tingling. It took a bit for her to realize, but the sensation had changed – instead of grating at her and making her tense, it swirled under her skin. It was kind of like that feeling you get when falling fully into a movie or story; the way you spring to your feet, chewing your nails as the characters face their last battle before the end.
It wasn’t until after midday that anything worth note happened. She came back from her latest delivery, intending to stop for an hour to wolf down lunch, only to find one Inspector Barnes waiting for her. Sergeant Wade was standing guard at his shoulder at the counter of the shop.
“Miss Carlyle,” barked the Inspector when he saw her, “I need to speak with you regarding the incident that occurred the other night. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” The last of which he directed towards Arif who was hovering nervously around the counter. Laura stood watching with wide eyes.
“Of course Inspector,” bustled Arif, “You can use my office – right this way.”
They all followed Arif to his office where he pushed open the door for them. Once everyone was inside, Arif looked rather like he was trying to find a reason to stay in the room for whatever conversation was going to happen. Barns immediately noticed. “Thank you Mr. Arif. You can return to your work now – I’m sure you’re a busy man. I need only ask Miss Carlyle a few questions and go over some things about the incident she was involved in. We will not be long.”
“Yes, of course. Just shout if you need anything else Inspector,” stuttered Arif as he slowly left. No one called him back as the door swung closed.
“Now then,” began Barnes, “Miss Carlyle, have you noticed any other disturbances in your area since the incident?”
“No, nothing,” she answered.
Barnes nodded, maintaining his stone-faced expression. Lucy wondered if he ever showed more emotion than that. Maybe that was something she could ask the boys on her next call to them – if they were familiar with Inspector Barnes, and if he was ever happy.
“We’ve come to inform you about the results of DSRAC’s standard post-attack investigation into the vampires involved. Thankfully, it looks like they were both newly turned Rampagers. That means that unless someone else noticed two Rampagers fixating on the same individual, you should be safe without any additional protection beyond standard precautionary measures. We will be keeping a stepped-up presence in this neighbourhood as a precaution though, just in case.”
Before Barnes finished speaking, Wade handed over a few stapled sheets of paper to her. As she flipped through them, Lucy realized that the only really useful thing in there was the runes of protection George had already shown her.
“Ok, well, this is good to have, I guess,” she mumbled, “But I actually already put those protection runes around the store.”
Barnes gave her a searching look. Wade’s neutral mutinous expression remained unchanged. “How could you have done that when you had no prior knowledge of magic?”
Lucy shifted uncomfortably under the Inspector’s gaze. “One of the places I make deliveries is where George Karim lives. The day of the attack, he warned me not to be caught outside at night. He promised me answers if I met him at a coffee shop the next day – said there were things that involved my safety someone needed to tell me. I went to see him anyway, even though I had a pretty good idea of what he had been talking about by then.”
Barnes blew out a breath. “Of course, I should have known it would be Karim. I keep forgetting that he’s living in the area here now. Do you have any other pressing questions, Miss Carlyle?”
Lucy thought for a moment. “You said there were ‘two rampagers’, but there was only the one man who attacked me, and I don’t know what you mean by ‘rampager’, anyway.”
“Karim made DSRAC aware of a vampire turf-war that happened in the alley behind this store. We believe there were two vampires stalking you – that they fought over the right to hunt you, and that the man who attacked you won by killing the other vampire,” explained Barnes in the same expressionless tone.
Lucy just stared at him, feeling queasy. There had been two vampires – two. She had had a dream where there were two people fighting over something. ‘She’s mine!’ ‘Not if I get her first!’, she remembered hearing the people say, even after she had woken up. But Barnes was still talking, answering her other question.
“As for Rampagers; there are two major categories of vampire behaviour. One is called ‘Rampager’, the other ‘Covenist’. Rampagers are vampires that have no sense of the person they were before they were turned left to them. They kill the most people, and they don’t do much of anything else. Covenist vampires can more easily pass as human, and they have a tendency to form groups, or covens of multiple vampires. Sometimes they collect human servants or followers too. They are also the only ones who will actively turn new vampires.”
…
Barnes and Wade left the store soon after, having delivered their report on next-steps for her continued safety. Arif and Laura ambushed her almost as soon as the two officers were gone. “Is everything alright?” questioned Laura looking anxious.
“Everything’s fine,” placated Lucy, “They basically just came to tell me that nobody else will bother me.”
Arif and Laura seemed mollified by that. They allowed her to wonder off and eat her lunch.
…
The hour before sunset found Lucy making her way quickly back from her last delivery. The feeling of being watched she’d noticed while out and about throughout the day had disappeared a little over a half-hour ago. That meant that the tingling warning of her magic was back again – climbing in intensity as she sun sank lower and lower.
As Lucy rounded the last corner before the shop, the tingling went away completely again. Perched on the awning of the store, she spotted bird-Lockwood watching her approach. She waved hello before she slipped inside. Laura had already left for the day, and Arif was just packing up to do the same.
“Oh, good,” he said when he noticed her, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be too much latter, little missy. Is there anything else you need before I head out for the night?”
She gave him a shy smile – still completely unused to the way both he and Laura always fussed over her so much. “No thanks, I’m good here. And I don’t plan on going out again tonight, so you don’t have to wait up for me or anything.”
“Well then, if you’re sure. Have a nice night Lucy,” he said as he waved goodbye.
Lucy locked the front door of the store before heading back to the employee lounge and the small kitchen there to dump her jacket and her shoes. She set a pan on the little hotplate to heat up, then quickly nipped out and made for the shops back door to lock it too. When she got there though, she saw bird-Lockwood though the single pane of glass. He started tapping incessantly the second he saw her come into view.
She wondered what this could be about, and worried that something might already be afoot. Sticking the key in the door, she opened it just far enough for him to fly in, then quickly pulled the door closed again. She made sure she turned the key so that the door was locked and would open from the inside without unlocking the outside.
By the time Lucy turned around, bird-Lockwood had already transformed back into normal-Lockwood.
“Is something wrong?” worried Lucy before anything else happened.
Lockwood gave her a reassuring look and shook his head. “No, nothing is wrong. It’s very quiet tonight. But then, I did notice DSRAC is about on the way here, so that would explain that.”
Lucy puzzled at his tone when he mentioned DSRAC, but quickly remembered that she had left the hot-plate on, and abruptly hurried from the room. She felt more than saw Lockwood follow her, likely wondering what that had been about. “Sorry, it’s just you came right in the middle of me making supper. I left the hot plate on in here to warm up.”
“No offense taken, Miss Carlyle,” he answered graciously.
Lucy scrunched her face as she buttered some bread and set about making herself a grilled cheese. “If the point of this is to get to know each other, call me Lucy. When you say ‘Miss Carlyle’, it makes you sound like a 300-year-old man.”
Lockwood let out a nervous sounding kind of laughter that had her surreptitiously glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
“If I were really that old, I’d be calling you ‘Lady Lucy’,” he said in the same tone of self-assuredness she had heard from him before.
She made an annoyed face and he chuckled – once again without showing any teeth and looking slightly creepy while he did it.
“Do you want something?” she asked, trying for something else to say.
“No, I’m quite alright. Thank you,” answered Lockwood. “Although, would you be more comfortable if I came back in a bit – let you eat dinner in peace?”
Lucy blew out a breath as she flipped her sandwich over. “No, that’d just mean I have to come down and unlock the back door again. Plus, I felt kind of bad that you were outside all night with the way it was raining this morning when I got up.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Weather like that isn’t so bad in my other form. And even if it was, cold doesn’t bother me. It’s also easier to keep watch from outside where I was.”
“Isn’t it dangerous for you?” asked Lucy. Her sandwich was finished now – lightly golden on both sides with cheese slowly escaping while she plated it and sat down. She gestured to invite Lockwood to do the same. “Aren’t you worried about getting attacked when you’re a bird?”
“One of the advantages of that form is that it is very difficult to track magic from a non-human body,” explained Lockwood, “I’m actually much safer in that form than a human one.”
“Oh,” blinked Lucy, “Then, when I start learning about my magic, would I be able to transform into an animal too? It might be kind of nice to know that I don’t have to worry about it.”
Lockwood considered her for a long moment. “You…may be capable of transformation. Or you may not. I think you actually have enough strength to achieve plenty in general magic – something which has mostly died out these days – but it’s difficult to tell what you might be able to do.”
“What does that mean, ‘general magic’? How is it different than what you can do?”
“The only thing I can do with my magic is turn into a bird,” explained Lockwood, “I have no capabilities in any other form or application of magic. General magic is just that – general – it can be used to achieve many different things through spells. The only limitations are the imagination you can apply to your spell-casting, and how much inherent talent you have to power your spells.”
Lucy ate her supper quietly, mulling all that over. When she was finished, she asked the next question she had on her mind. “How did you know about my magic?” she asked.
“I can sense it.”
“But how?” she pressed, “I don’t understand how that works. DSRAC had to use a stone to figure it out, but you just…knew. How did you know?”
Lockwood was quiet for a long time. “It…is a skill I acquired latter in life. I spent a lot of time honing it to be as acute as possible. It was easy to pick out your talent.”
She gave him a searching look. “You still haven’t told me how.”
Lockwood huffed a breath and looked away. “Look, I…don’t much enjoy talking about how I gained that particular skill. It…happened the same night I lost the rest of my family.”
“Oh,” worried Lucy, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Lockwood seemed to collect himself before answering. “I do believe that that is exactly the point of having these conversations, Lucy.” He gave her a soft, thin-lipped smile. This one looked so painfully sad rather than slightly creepy as many of his other smiles ended up looking.
…
Lockwood said his goodbyes and returned outside after that – clearly not wanting to talk any more. She offered to let him stay on the couch in the employee lounge, but he refused, saying he could keep a much better watch in his other form from outside.
Lucy cleared away everything in the little kitchen from her supper, then went to Arif’s office to call Portland Row. She figured that she was still supposed to do that, even if Lockwood was going to come in and talk with her in-person for the rest of the week.
“Hello?” called George’s voice from the other end of the line.
“Hi,” she said, “It’s Lucy.”
“Oh good, I was starting to wonder if I’d missed the phone at some point while I was working.”
“What were you working on?” she asked, almost without thinking.
“I do research for DSRAC as a paid informant. Basically, I dig through historical records and look for indications of vampires that might still be around today.”
“That sounds…fun,”
“Your obvious enthusiasm overwhelms me,” snarked George.
Lucy bristled. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to be,” she snapped before slamming down the phone and going up to her room to work on her drawings for the rest of the night before bed.
Notes:
Lockwood: *is vulnerable*
Lockwood: *retreats*George: *is snarky*
George: *get's snapped at*Both boys: 👀
Chapter 11
Notes:
Now we're starting to get into the meat of the game. This "week" is going to be fun to see play out, especially since we might have reached an agreement with George.
Chapter Text
Tuesday morning came and went without any complaints from Lucy. Bird-Lockwood tailed her until an hour past sunrise. She spent maybe 40 minutes after rushing about with her fingers tingling; then the swishy sort of being watched feeling replaced it.
Lucy thought about her interactions with the two boys from Portland Row as she made her rounds. She certainly felt as though she liked Lockwood much better than his snarky housemate. Though George’s complete lack of social grace annoyed her, she actually found that he was the more open and honest of the two. He certainly had no trouble with speaking his mind. She recalled that when he had made the appointment to clue her into everything, he had actually said that he did not think she liked him – and that he did not have an opinion either way. Lockwood was much harder to read. He was pleasant, sure, but closed off in a way George was not.
She figured that she could easily get along with Lockwood – Geroge however, she was not sure of. Unless something changed between them in the next week, Lucy did not think she’d be moving in with them. She knew from experience – no good comes of living with someone you are not able to get along with.
With those thoughts in mind, Lucy dragged her feet while running the customary delivery to Portland Row. Lockwood had been standing guard over her all night, so it stood to reason that he would be sleeping now. That meant George would be the one to answer the door. He was always the one to do so anyway, but now she knew there was little chance of it being Lockwood.
Box of freshly glazed donuts in hand, Lucy rang the clamouring bell of 35 Portland Row and waited for the door to open. As expected, it was George’s spectacled face that greeted her when it did.
“Lucy,” he acknowledged when he opened the door.
She opted to mostly ignore him, shoving the box of donuts his way and gesturing for the money he owed her.
He sighed as he took the box, placing it on a side table just within the door, counting out the change he owed her.
“Look,” he said as he was occupied, “Lockwood was pretty miffed when I told him about the call with you last night. I know I can be – hard to get along with. I honestly didn’t intend to insult you. That’s just how it ended up coming out.”
Lucy took the proffered notes and eyed George suspiciously. “It sounds like you’re still figuring out if you’re trying to apologize, or explain why you don’t think you did anything wrong.”
George looked like he wanted to retort, but seemed to think better of it before anything came out. Lucy sighed. “If you happen to figure out which it is, let me know when I call tonight, yeah?”
Geroge snapped his mouth closed, eyeing her sharply. “Yeah, I can do that.”
With that truce agreed upon, Lucy nodded to herself and left to continue the rest of her day.
…
This time, Lucy did not manage to get back to the street where the store sat before the sun threatened to set. She was still several streets away when bird-Lockwood found her – this time staying closer to her than he usually did and playing a kind of hopscotch-tag the rest of the way back.
She found Arif pacing behind the counter waiting for her. He greeted her warmly before bidding her goodnight – assured now that she was home safe. Lucy bolted the front door behind him, then went back and let Lockwood in before locking that door too. He transformed back into human before tailing her to the little kitchen. She offered to get something for him, which he once again politely refused.
“I heard you had a bit of a disagreement with George the other night?” prompted Lockwood when she was finally settled at the table with supper.
Lucy shrugged. “I got mad at him for giving me snark when I asked him what he did for work and realized that it didn’t sound very interesting to me.”
Lockwood blew out a frustrated breath, looking slightly resigned. “He really doesn’t mean to be abrasive. He just…doesn’t see the point in playing nice when it’s nothing but a façade.”
Lucy chewed on that while she ate her supper. Lockwood let her think things through. “I’m not very sure he likes me.”
“He doesn’t not like you. You’re just new, and he doesn’t tend to do well with new,” answered Lockwood.
She continued to mull that over while she finished eating. “So what do you do for work?” she asked.
The air in the room seemed to change ever so slightly. Lockwood gave her one of his creepy, closed-lipped smiles. “I don’t really need to work. I have investments, and I mostly live off the revenue. Sometimes I’ll get board and get a job doing something that interests me. I’ve been a lot of different things, actually – I’ve worked in medicine, been a private investigator, and a number of other things too. Mostly though, I travel wherever the fancy takes me.”
Lucy watched him with wide eyes. “That sounds…that’s kind of amazing. That you can afford to just, not work. I wish I’d been that lucky.”
“I take it then, that your family never had much money to spare?” he prompted.
“No,” she mumbled, “My dad died when I was little, so it was just my mam after that. She worked in the local hotels as a washer, so we never had much. All my sisters and me had to get jobs as soon as we were old enough.”
“That certainly doesn’t sound easy,” commented Lockwood. He was quiet for a second, looking like he was suddenly deep in thought. “Do you mind if I ask how many sisters you have?”
Lucy shrugged. “Sure – I’ve got six. I’m the youngest.”
The pensive look remained on Lockwood’s face. “And, do you know if your mother also had a lot of older sisters?”
Lucy looked slightly startled at him. “Yeah. Yeah, she did. How did you know?”
“Was she also the youngest of seven?”
“I…I’m not sure. She might have been. We never really met with any other family. Mam was always too busy at work, or to tired to bother,” answered Lucy. “Why are you asking?”
Lockwood blew out a breath. “I’m asking because it would make a good argument for why you have so much magic when no-one else in your family has any. If it turns out that you’re actually the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, then of course you’d have strong magic. Seven is a powerful number in magic.”
“Could it really be something that simple?” she asked.
“Sometimes it’s surprising just how simple the answer is to something that seems unexplainable at first glance.”
…
Lockwood left her with her thoughts after that and she methodically cleaned the little employee kitchen before heading into Arif’s office to call George.
The phone barely rang twice before it was picked up. “Lucy?” asked George.
“Yeah,” she answered, slightly surprised at his stressed tone. “What’s up with you?”
“It’s much latter than you called the last two times,” came his answer.
Lucy looked over at the clock on the wall, and had to admit that he was right. “Oh, I hadn’t realized. I was talking with Lockwood. He might have figured out why I’ve got so much magic.”
“You’re a seventh daughter, aren’t you?” asked George without any more prompting.
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word uncertainly.
Geroge continued with a kind of feverish intensity at the new information though. “It would be the perfect reason for your magic being so strong despite you not having a family relation to it. Especially if you happen to be a seventh daughter, of a seventh daughter. Seven is a powerful magical number – if it compounded through your family in two generations, you may have more magic than anyone’s seen in hundreds of years. It might even be possible for you to rival the old Lady Marrissa Fites!”
“I have no idea who that is, or why that might be so important,” she commented. She was somewhat stunned by George’s enthusiasm. She’d never heard him speak quite like this before.
“Lady Marrissa was the first person to record actual accounts of vampires more than 600 years ago,” explained George, “She laid the foundation for most of what we know about vampires, and was the first to find ways of warding against them. The texts she wrote on magic are still studied today.”
“I don’t think I could be anyone quite so important,” mumbled Lucy.
“Why not?” asked George. “It’s obvious you have a lot of potential. The strength of your magic’s warnings to you about your safety are proof of that, if nothing else.”
George continued to chatter away about the potentials of magic, and what her new-found heritage might mean for it. She found she did not mind listening to him spin his theories, or follow in his footsteps as he forged a path through thickets of information with logic and deductions as accurately as a surgeon with a scalpel.
When Lucy finally ended the call with him and went to bed, she felt that she might have accidentally made much more progress with George than she would have thought possible tonight. No longer did it seem quite so daunting, the prospect of living with him. It seemed like all you really needed to do was not think him crazy or strange for his interests in research. She could do that, if that was all it really took.
Chapter 12
Notes:
Sorry that this one was a little latter in coming. The first half of this was easy to write, and then I came to Lucy's conversation with George and I needed them to talk about some important things, but didn't have an idea of how we were going to get there. I found myself trying to walk a line of not having her overshare, but still needing certain things to come out of this. Hope I did well enough🤞🏻
Chapter Text
Lucy was not sure where she was. She was not even sure there was a “where” to be right now. It felt more like a “when” to be, if that even made sense. It certainly did not to her.
A lapping sound, as if water brushing against the banks of a river filled her ears. She could hear the squelching of someone wading through the muck along the banks. It was slow and methodical – as if whoever was there was passing carefully, searching for something as they travelled along.
There was a pause in the footsteps. A voice broke the otherwise silent expanse around her. “Alright there Flo? The Thames still treating you well?”
Somehow, the voice felt familiar. She thought she should know who it was. Their name eluded her now though. She could not place them.
“Always well, Locky. What brings you my way?”
“I have a favour to ask of you.”
There was a single heartbeat of silence. “Your asking a favour? Oh, Locky, thought you was busy with your researcher figuring out your cure. You went and adopted another one, haven’t you?”
“I had to Flo, she’d not have lasted on her own.”
“So, now you asking me to get involved?”
“Only during the day. I’d never ask anything dangerous of you Flo, you know that. I just want to know if anyone is taking an unusual interest in her.”
“You mean, besides you?”
Lucy startled awake as her alarm clock buzzed angrily from her bedside table. Groaning, she blindly fumbled until she found it’s shape and smacked the top to shut it up. The vestiges of her dream still clung to the back of her mind. Something itched in her head as she tried to parse through why that voice had sounded so familiar. Hearing Arif clamour about downstairs in the industrial kitchen of the store, Lucy had to shelve her musings and get ready for the day.
…
Today went the same as the previous two had. Lockwood left an hour after sunrise, her fingers started tingling again, and then less than an hour latter, the sensation of being watched changed the pitch of her magic’s warnings to her.
Today though, Lucy could not just brush off the feeling. There was someone watching her – someone who specifically came well after Lockwood had already left. They did not feel malicious, but that someone was watching her as she scurried around the neighborhood should certainly be cause for some concern.
As the day progressed, it became harder to ignore that part of her that told her her dream was the key to understanding these feelings.
…
Lucy returned from her last delivery well before the sun fully set, but did not quite manage to get back before Lockwood showed up to tail her. Arif still waited for her to return before leaving himself, and she still let Lockwood in as she locked all the doors before setting about making herself something to eat.
“So,” began Lockwood once she sat down with her meal – he had once again refused anything she offered. “What would you like to talk about tonight?”
Lucy chewed on her meal as she thought. “You said last night that you usually travel around,” she began, “What brought you to settle in London?”
“Ah, well I haven’t really settled in London,” commented Lockwood, “I’ll move off at some point. Hopefully once I’ve finished what I came here for.”
“What did you come here for then?”
Lockwood was quiet as he thought through his answer. “I found myself in need of some help with a project. I’d heard tell of George’s research prowess, so I approached him and inquired if he would aid me. When he agreed, I managed to secure the house at Portland Row, and we’ve been rooming together while he helps me in between his jobs for DSRAC.”
Lucy watched him as she followed his explanation. It was a good answer, but it still skated around the central issue. “What’s the project?”
Lockwood looked at her long and hard for a moment. “It’s something…rather personal,” he said, expression distant. “I think at this point, I’d rather not say. But if you do decide to take us up on our offer to you, I will explain it all then.”
“Fair enough,” she acquiesced.
“What about you?” prodded Lockwood, “What brought you to the big city? Your accent is clearly northern, so it must have been quite the trek.”
Lucy sat playing with her food as she quickly switched from curious to sombre. Lockwood instantly noticed the shift in her mood. “Lucy?”
“Something…happened. I just – I had to get away,” she mumbled, pointedly not making eye contact.
“Did you…lose someone?” asked Lockwood quietly.
“A lot of someones, actually,” she muttered. “There was…an accident where we all worked. It ended badly. I was the only one who walked away.”
“That sounds like much more than just a simple accident,” commented Lockwood.
“Yeah,” breathed Lucy, “That’s what everyone else in town thought too.”
Lockwood it seemed, did not know what to say to that. Lucy still refused to look him in the eye.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Lockwood just as the silence started to stretch too long.
“No,” she answered, “Or maybe…not yet.”
…
Lockwood left her to her thoughts, assuring her that she could talk to him if she wanted as he left. She thanked him for the offer, even as she was relieved that he was leaving. If Lucy took longer than necessary to clean up the little staff kitchen, no one but her would know.
Lucy thought back over the things she had seen in the mill the night everything had gone wrong. She did not know enough about the world she was suddenly thrust into. She could not look at a situation and parse out what might have really been going on just by doing so. She had so many questions, she almost did not know where to start.
Those thoughts still swirled through her mind as she absently dialed the phone and called Geroge for the night.
“Hello?” came George’s voice across the line.
“Hi,” she answered, “It’s Lucy.”
“You sound funny tonight,” he commented.
Lucy glared at the phone. “Must you?” she snapped.
“No,” he rushed, “It’s just…has something happened?”
“Not recently.”
“You’re just remembering something bad that did happen.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “How did you learn about DSRAC, and vampires?”
“That’s, a really random question given this context,” commented George. “But if you really want to know; the explanation of ‘random animal attack’ you hear about sometimes in the news always bothered me. There is no ordinary animal I know of that will rip out the throat of its prey without eating anything else. I wanted answers – proper answers – not just whatever drivel the news was being allowed to put into print.”
“So you just, stumbled onto it?” asked Lucy. “It wasn’t because DSRAC found you, or because you have magic or something like that?”
“No, I don’t have enough magic to be on DSRAC’s radar for that alone. I was researching anything I could about those attacks. There’s a suspiciously large number of records that talk about ‘random animal attack’ as the cause of death. They all cited injuries to the neck and nothing else – didn’t seem like a regular mauling to me. I eventually ended up researching my way straight to a vampire. At the time, I just thought they were a witness to what had really happened. Would probably have been just another ‘random attack’ on the news myself if DSRAC hadn’t also been following the same leads.”
“You went and talked to a vampire?” startled Lucy.
“Unintentionally, yes,” answered George. “It turned out the person was a newly turned vampire that had been kicked out of his coven because he was only a borderline Covenist – too many Rampager inclinations for them to keep around. Has anyone explained the differences between Rampagers and Covenist vampires to you?”
“Yeah, Barns did when he came to give me his report on their investigation after my attack.”
“Did he also explain that in vampire social hierarchy, Rampagers are essentially lower than slaves because they’re too animalistic to pass as human?”
“No, he just told me that Covenist vampires sometimes collect people and tend to form groups, and Rampagers don’t do anything other than kill people. I don’t understand why there is a difference, though.”
“It has to do with the shattering of the soul that occurs when someone gets turned. Evidence seems to suggest that the more opposed your original nature is to the inclinations of a vampire, the more severe the shattering of the soul. Basically, bad people make Covenist vampires, and good people make Rampagers.”
“That’s, awful,” gasped Lucy, “So, if you’re a bad person, and you get turned into a vampire, you get to keep your mind, and if you’re a good person, you lose everything?”
“Yes,”
“How do you even get turned into a vampire in the first place?” she wondered. She thought of the snarling shadow in the mill – the thing that had killed everyone and tore apart everything in its path. Had that been a Rampager? Had that been a person who lost themselves?
“You have to die with vampire blood in your system,” answered George immediately. “Vampires seem to have a special protein in their blood that is essential for the physical transformation. Without it, nothing happens. It’s also worth noting that if you somehow get exposed to vampire blood and don’t die, you won’t spontaneously turn into a vampire. No one is quite sure why, but rigor mortis is a necessary stage of the transformation.”
Lucy tried to parse through all this new information. You have to die in order to become a vampire? More than that, someone has to purposefully expose and then kill you.
“So what happened when you went to talk to that vampire?” she asked instead of voicing her thoughts.
“He caught a whiff of magic on me, and went full Rampager. My research apparently made its way to Barnes’ notice, so he followed me there. I would have been dead if Barnes hadn’t shot and killed them. After that, Barnes realized I wouldn’t give it up until I knew everything.”
“Is there no other way of stopping a vampire?” asked Lucy quietly. “If they have to die to become one, that means they’re all victims too. Is there any way of stopping vampires without needing to kill them?”
George was quiet for a long time. “There is some speculation that it’s possible to restore the lost parts of the soul to a vampire,” he explained cautiously, “How effective that would be at stopping vampires is hotly debated. It would certainly save Rampagers, but it might not work so well with Covenist vampires. And no one is quite sure how to do it either.”
“There’s no real cure then?”
“Not that we know of, no,” answered George. “Why the sudden pensiveness and questions about vampires?”
“…I was just wondering,”
“You were reminded of something terrible that happened, and you’re wondering if it might have been caused by a vampire.”
She did not answer.
“If you want to tell me what happened,” said George, “I can help you understand.”
She stayed silent. George allowed her the time to think. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
“This is why you came to London, isn’t it?” coaxed George. “Why you said you didn’t have anyplace else to go.”
“They blamed me,” admitted Lucy. The damn had finally broken, and without even realizing it, she was crying. “I saw everything that happened, and they blamed me. Everyone did, even my mum.”
No sound came from the other end of the line. She tried valiantly to reign herself back in, but she was not very successful. She did not think George had any idea what to do with her now. She did not know what to do with herself. “Was it my fault?” she eventually managed to gasp out, “Was it there because of me? Because I didn’t know I had magic? Is it my fault?”
“Lucy,” began George. For the first time, he sounded uncertain. It only made her cry harder. Was he about to tell her that it was her fault? That it had wanted her, and had gone for everyone else because she was too much of a coward to face it. “I might not know what happened. But I know it was not your fault. If whatever happened was because of a vampire, someone still had to make that vampire. You are not to blame.”
Chapter 13
Notes:
Guys, I might have done terrible things...👀👀
...terrible, terrible thingsAt least we made it all the way to Thursday before I destroyed the world!😁🫢
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucy did not sleep well that night. George had braved staying on the phone with her until she’d managed to calm down enough to be embarrassed about her breakdown. When she’d tried apologizing, he’d told her not to.
“I know it’s really hard for you to talk about this,” he’d said, “But it’s much better that you allow yourself to break down when you need to than to bottle everything up. So don’t apologize.”
She felt like she had barely laid down to close her eyes by the time her morning alarm went off. Thankfully, Arif did not notice anything amiss when she stumbled downstairs to start the day looking barely better than something the cat had dragged in. He was already well aware that she was very much not a morning person.
In spite of her recent emotional upheavals, the morning progressed as had become normal. Lockwood followed her from a distance until an hour after sunrise. The tingling in her fingers came back when he left, doing his funny little pirouette in the air to wave goodbye to her. About an hour latter, the feeling of someone watching her came back and muddied the faint sense of danger her magic always gave her.
Today though, the feeling of being watched grated on her. She’d felt like that the night of the events at the mill. This was as different as it could be from how she’d felt then – but that was little conciliation. Without even thinking about it, she started ducking around corners and pausing randomly as she watched out the corner of her eye. To her increasing frustration she had still not noticed anyone that could be responsible.
Something sloshed through her veins as she stomped about in a huff, trying to find someone that could not be found. She wished that if her magic was going to give her these warnings, it would also be useful enough to help her figure out who it was warning her against.
She grumbled to herself, scowling at the box of donuts in her hand as she made her way to the next delivery. That was when she heard it clear as day – a voice in her head, with no one anywhere in sight.
“I do wonder about this one,” said a female voice, “If Locky’s putting this much effort into keeping her safe, she’s got to be the real deal.”
Lucy froze. ‘Locky’, the voice had said, as in “Lockwood”? Before she could talk herself out of the impossible revelation, the shock of her dream from the other night ran through her. The voices in that dream, one of them had called the other “Locky” too. She’d felt as if she should have known who the other one was. Only now were the pieces slotting into place. It had been Lockwood’s voice in her dream. And what had he said? He’d asked this mysterious other person for a favour – something that would only matter during the day. She only felt like someone was watching her during the day, after Lockwood left.
A cold kind of furry rose up in her throat. She told him that she did not want to be watched all day long. He gave her his word that he would not. But he had said that he would not watch her. He had not said anything about someone else watching her during the day.
Lucy set off to her next delivery, a rabid kind of determination setting into her bones. She would finish her deliveries today before the sun started to set – she’d make absolutely certain of it.
…
Her furious determination had not burned any lower by the time Lucy returned to the store after her last delivery – a full hour and a half before Lockwood was likely to show up. Laura at the counter was still there when she came back.
“What’s got you so riled up Lucy?” she asked concerned. “You’ve been in a huff for half the day.”
Lucy chewed on her answer before she responded. “Someone made me a promise they didn’t keep, and I only found out today.”
Laura gave her a sympathetic sort of smile. “I’m sure they meant well by it dear.”
Lucy’s scowl did not change. “They promised.”
Luara did not say anything more, perhaps realizing that there was not much point. Arif asked her if she was ok too before he left. He got the same answer. Lucy made sure to lock all the doors behind everyone when they left, and then marched her way directly to the phone in Arif’s office.
The phone only rang twice before someone picked it up. “Hello?” called George’s voice.
“Is Lockwood still there?” barked Lucy in response. She was too keyed up to be nice to George right now.
“Lucy?” asked George surprised at her vehemence. “Why are you –”
“Is he there?” she snapped.
“…Yes, why?” hedged George.
“Put him on the phone,” she growled. It was kind of unfair to be so short with George – he was not the one who had gone to that mysterious “Flo” person she had heard first in her dream, and then again today. But he had likely known what Lockwood had done. He had not said anything either.
She heard indistinct muttering through the line as George likely covered the receiver and called for Lockwood. Maybe he was asking what they hell had happened. Maybe he already suspected.
After a few minutes that felt entirely too long to Lucy, the heard the customary shifting that meant George had handed off the phone.
“Lucy?” asked Lockwood’s voice. “Whatever’s the matter? Did something –”
“You LIED to me!” she accused without any preamble.
“I’m sure I don’t know –”
“You sent that ‘Flo’ person to follow me!” she yelled, “I told you I didn’t want to be followed all the time!”
“How did you –”
“Never mind how I found out. You lied to me! You gave me your word you wouldn’t follow me all day long!”
“It was for your own protection,” snapped Lockwood. He sounded frustrated now, in a way he never had before. It only made Lucy resent him more. “Some vampires are day-walkers. And many Covenist vampires have human slaves or followers. It’s not just when the sun goes down that dangers exist. You said yourself that you’re magics been giving you warning signals since the moment you stepped foot in London. Something needed to be done.”
“So it’s my fault then is it?” she groused. “It’s not like I knew that! You could have told me! Instead, you decided to go behind my back and set me a tail of some random person I’ve never even met? That was your solution!?”
“I think your over –”
“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I’M OVERREACTING!” she screeched into the phone. “Don’t you DARE, when you deliberately went against my wishes! It doesn’t make it better that you never thought I’d figure it out. That just makes it worse!”
“Lucy, can we just –”
“Don’t bother coming here tonight. I don’t want you, or your friend anywhere near me again – and I’ll know if either of you shows up! And the deals off – there’s no way I’m moving in with someone who lies to me while smiling in my face because they think I’ll never figure it out. Got it, ‘Locky’?” mocked Lucy. She slammed the phone down before he could formulate a response.
She stood there breathing hard for a few moments before a chocked off sob broke through her furry. Lucy tried valiantly to push the sound away with shaking hands. She wasn’t very successful. She sank to the floor in a trembling heap, trying to make sense of why she was suddenly crying her heart out on Arif’s office floor.
Notes:
George: *picks up phone* "Hello?"
Lucy: 🤬🤬🤬💣🧨💥
George: *looks at phone. Hands it to Lockwood* "This is probably your fault anyway, you deal with it."
Chapter 14
Notes:
Now that it's Friday (in the story), we have reached the fallout! Lockwood might have really put his foot in it, but George isn't quite as in the dog house as him. Hopefully he can salvage some of the situation ;)
Chapter Text
Lucy’s mood was not improved by another night’s restless sleep. Part of her was viciously pleased that she had managed to scare Lockwood off enough that he did not try to stand guard over her all night despite her protests. The other part was horribly confused by that same fact. If he really was that concerned about her safety, why had he just given up? Up to this point, he had gone out of his way to make sure she was safe. He had even been there the night a pair of vampires had a catfight in the alley behind the shop over her. That had happened before she had even known what was really going on. So why had he suddenly given up? The only answer which seemed to present itself sent her spiralling anew back through her furry each time she thought of it.
“Are you alright Lucy?” asked Arif the next morning. He was watching her rather bemusedly as she glared at the oven they had just filled with bagels as if it had personally insulted her.
Lucy visibly tried to shake off her frustration. “Yeah,” she mumbled, “I mean…no…I mean…I just…thought I’d made some good friends in town. And now, I’m not so sure anymore.”
Arif watched her for several seconds without responding. She startled when he stepped forward purposefully and pulled her into a crushing hug. It only took a single heartbeat for her to return it, squeezing the old shopkeeper back just as hard while her eyes threatened to well with tears. “You’ll be alright, little missy,” murmured Arif in her ear as he pulled back.
She sniffled to avoid saying anything and managed to return to work with her anger slightly dented after that.
…
Contrary to everyone’s certainty of immediate doom should she be outside unsupervised, Lucy did not die that morning when she headed out to her first delivery. It was entirely beside the point that her fingers had not stopped tingling once. At least she did not feel like anyone was watching her now. There was some improvement, however small.
Nothing terrible happened the rest of the day either. It was not until she had to make the customary delivery to Portland Row that she felt any real measure of trepidation. The tingling in her fingers stopped as she approached the house. In its absence she could feel her jilted frustration all the more acutely. She stood on the doorstep with a blank look of seriousness on her face – it was the closest to a pleasant customer-service-smile she could manage at the moment.
When she steeled herself enough to ring the clamouring doorbell, it opened almost immediately to reveal Lockwood. Great. Of all the times for it to not be George who opened the door.
She did not give him a chance to speak before she shoved the box of donuts into his chest and gestured blank faced for the money she was owed.
Lockwood made an “oof” noise at the rough treatment, but made no other move. “Lucy –”
“Don’t,” she snapped. “Just…give me what you owe so I can be on my way.”
Lockwood gently placed the box of donuts onto the side table next to the door, but did not pull out any money. She glared harshly at him; something which he took in stride. “Miss Carlyle,” he began formally, “Please accept my sincere apologies for upsetting you. That was never my intention. I merely sought to –”
“Shut up, just Shut Up!” exploded Lucy. “I don’t want to hear it! We sat talking for three nights in a row, and you never once thought to mention that you were so worried about my safety, you had someone watching me all day long! I don’t care what you meant by it. If the whole point of that stupid deal was to show me I could trust you, you did a piss-poor job of it! Now hand over the money you owe me for those stupid donuts, or so help me –!”
There was the sound of a throat clearing from somewhere behind Lockwood. Lucy was still too focussed on gesticulating angrily in his face to notice. Lockwood took a measured step back out of the way of her furry before silently reaching towards the table again and handing over the money.
She snatched it from his hand immediately, spinning on her heal and marching away. Before the door closed behind her, Lucy thought she heard George. “I told you ambushing her when she came for our delivery was a stupid plan.”
Damn right it was stupid. At least George still seemed to have some sense left.
…
By the end of the day, Lucy’s furry had finally burned itself out. She was left feeling twitchy and paranoid – the tingling sensation of her magic only got worse as the afternoon passed and evening crept up on her. Her one saving grace was that it dropped back down to a manageable level when she reached the store after her final delivery. At least now she knew for sure that those runes George had given her were actually good for something.
She waved Arif off for the night when he left, before locking the front and back door. She double and triple checked that each was secure before she could bring herself to make dinner. Just as she finished clearing away the dishes in the little staff kitchen, she heard the phone in Arif’s office ring.
Lucy took a long time rinsing her hands under the water of the tap. It was after store hours. She could ignore the phone and pretend she never heard a thing. It might be Lockwood calling her, since his ambush earlier in the day had not been fruitful for him. But it could also be George.
She was still miffed with George. He had probably known what Lockwood had done. Or, if he did not know, she did not think it would have been hard for him to guess. She was angry that he had not said anything – had not warned her in some way what Lockwood was likely to do if he thought it necessary. But at the end of the day, he was not the one that had gone behind her back.
“Hello?” called Lucy as pleasantly as she could when she finally picked up the phone in Arif’s office.
“Oh, good,” answered Geroge from the other end of the line. “I was starting to think you were not going to pick up.”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it,” commented Lucy.
A drawn-out sigh sounded through the phone. “I suppose that’s fair. Back at the café, you did say you would refuse our deal if Lockwood wouldn’t promise not to follow you all day.”
“What do you want George?” she asked in a neutral tone. “I told Lockwood our deal was off. You don’t have to waste your time talking to me every night now.”
“Is that what you think this was?” he asked. “I know Lockwood made a real dick move when he sent Flo to tail you without saying anything about it to you. All I can say is that he’s very used to doing everything for himself – it literally never occurred to him to consult you about it.
“Even if you hate both our guts right now, it doesn’t really change anything,” he continued. “There are people who worship vampires almost like gods and will do anything for them – including kidnapping unsuspecting magicals. That’s why Lockwood wanted someone he trusted to follow you during the day – so we’d be warned if someone else was paying you suspicious interest.”
Lucy was about to snap at George for that. Oh, sure, Lockwood sent someone he trusted to watch over her. Never mind how she might feel about that, or who she might want to watch her back. But George continued without leaving her room to whip herself into a furry again.
“And yes, he still should have consulted you on that – I told him as much after you screamed at him and hung up. But Lucy, you have a lot of magic. More than I think any single person has had in a long time. When a vampire feeds on, and kills a magical, they absorb their magical essence. If they get enough, it allows them access to more abilities that make them more powerful and dangerous. The holly grail for vampires is the ability to walk in daylight – which is possible for them if they feed on and steal enough magical essence. The problem is how much magic it takes before they get there – and its luck of the draw too, so no matter how much magic they absorb, some of them might never become day-walkers anyway. You have enough magic all by yourself that – should a vampire feed on and kill you – you alone might be enough to give them the ability to walk in daylight.”
Lucy did not know what to say to this explanation. Some of it was old news to her. Inspector Barnes had explained that vampires could steal magical essence – though he hadn’t specified that they needed to actually kill a magical to get it. Barnes had also already explained that vampires could gain more abilities if they stole enough magic.
“If you’re really going to refuse our help or protection,” continued George, “You have to know the risks to yourself. Vampires can smell magic – especially strong magic, like yours. I know you’re still wearing the Concealment Cuff that DSRAC gave you. That will help to hide your scent from them, but that might not be enough to completely block it. Some of the more powerful ones might still be able to smell magic on you.”
Lucy was silent for a long time while she absorbed everything. She let out a frustrated breath. “Thank you for explaining all that and for warning me,” she said, “But this doesn’t change my mind.”
“I’m going to call Inspector Barnes and tell him that you’re not going to be moving here to Portland Row after all. After you told him about the protection runes I’d given you, he called here to ask if I was going to continue helping you. I told him about our deal to get to know each other, and the offer we were going to make to you again at the end of the week. He was staving off sending you more information and help because he knew I was qualified enough to do it.”
“Ok,” she answered.
“Keep an eye out Lucy,” said George, “And stay safe.”
“Alright. You too.”
Chapter 15
Notes:
The only thing I would like to say about this chapter is to preface the end of it by saying that the vampire deterrent is NOT what it says on the tin (George just used a bad example) 🤣🫢
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Soft footsteps sounded on a rickety old staircase. Someone hissed out a warning to be quiet. Wood creaked softly as weight shifted across its surface. There were a few beats of silence, then the clinking sound of a ring touching a metal door handle whispered out. She heard the grating of the handle as it was turned – but there was no sound of any door opening.
“What’s wrong with you?” snarked a voice as silently as the night. “Open the door already!”
“It’s stuck,” growled a second voice under their breath, “It won’t open!”
Faint sounds of a struggle persisted as someone tried to force the door open without drawing attention to themselves.
“Move aside, let me do it. It’s probably just locked,” whispered the first voice when still the door refused to open.
She heard shuffling as one person replaced another. Clinking, grating and scraping of metal sounded faintly. A satisfying click resounded through the air. Wood groaned, scraping against itself. The door rattled, but did not budge.
“Careful! Quietly!” whispered the second voice urgently.
“It’s no use,” grumbled the first voice again, “There must be warding runes on the threshold that are keeping us out. Quick, check the door frame and see if you can find them.”
Another moment of silence. “There’s nothing here,” the first voice whispered, “They must have been carved on the inside. Just our luck – most people aren’t smart enough to think of that.”
“What do we do now?” asked the second voice timidly. “We can’t very well go back to Lord Desman without his prize.”
“We regroup, and come up with a different plan. They have to leave the building sometime. We can grab then when they do.”
Footsteps moved away – the sound of whispered voices fading along with them.
Lucy startled awake with a ringing in her ears. The moon was still high in the sky outside, casting the darkened world into even sharper shadows. She squinted through the darkness towards her door suspiciously. Even without moving closer, she could tell through the gloom that the lock was disengaged.
…
Lucy did not dare to move a muscle the rest of the night. When the sky began to brighten, and she heard sounds of Arif’s arrival, whistling a tune as he always did in the morning, she finally dared to get up. Before she left the room however, she took up the old letter opener she’d swiped from Arif’s office and carved over the runes in her door and window frame again. She made them as deep as she could, and was not any latter than normal when she finally made her way downstairs.
The first batch of pastries for the day had come out of the oven, with the next already cooking. Making sure that Arif was absorbed in decorating, Lucy went to check the back door of the store. Just like hers, she found it unlocked. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had locked it the night before.
…
It was neve-raking to run her deliveries for the day. The tingling in her fingers was the same as it always was in London, so she knew that she was not in active danger. But she knew better by now than to dismiss her dream, and everything it had revealed to her. People had come into the store during the night looking for her. Weather they were vampires – or ordinary people working for vampires – she did not know.
She lasted until lunchtime before she caved and sought out reinforcements. Lucy sat holed away in Arif’s office with a steaming bowl of stew on her lap and called DSRAC.
“London police, DSRAC division. How can I help you?” answered the receptionist for the number she had found on the paperwork Inspector Barnes and Sergeant Wade had given her.
“Hello,” she stuttered, “I was wondering if I could speak to Inspector Barnes?”
“Name please?”
“Lucy Carlyle.”
There was a moment as the receptionist presumably checked if she had clearance to speak to Barnes. “Ah, here you are. Yes, there’s note that Inspector Barnes handles your case. I’ll patch you through to him now. Please hold.”
Lucy sat mangling the solid chunks of her stew with her fork, anxiously watching the door for anyone coming in. Standard elevator music played in the background through the phone. What felt like an eon latter, the phone crackled as someone finally picked it up. “Inspector Barnes speaking, who is this?” came said Inspector’s toneless voice.
“It’s, Lucy Carlyle,” she answered.
“What can I help you with, Miss Carlyle?” he asked.
Lucy twirled the spiral wire of the phone around her finger and bit her lip in trepidation.
“I can’t help you, Miss Carlyle, if you don’t tell me what is going on,” prodded Barnes.
“I…well, last night I had this dream,” she began to explain. She could not help but feel horribly certain that Barnes was going to brush her off. She barely believed it herself after all, why should he? “I could only hear sounds – there were no images – and it sounded like two people were arguing about not being able to get into someplace. I heard the sound of someone picking a lock, it clicking open, and then the people started arguing about not being able to open the door because of warding runes they couldn’t find. It’s just that…when I startled awake, my bedroom door was still closed, but the lock was disengaged. And the back door of the shop was unlocked this morning too. I know I locked them both last night before I went to bed.”
“I see,” said Barnes after hearing her explanation. She was certain this was the part where he would tell her off for wasting her time. Just like that Inspector did with her story after the Mill. “Was there anything else involved in this dream?” he asked, “Did you happen to hear the people from the dream mention any names, or any information that would tell us who they might be, or who they might be working for?”
Lucy stared at the phone for a long moment. Barnes seemed to be taking her seriously. He was not brushing her off, or scoffing at the idea that a dream she had might have bearing on reality. He did not try to rationalize anything she had seen or heard as not being relevant. Remembering that she did not have very long – and that either Arif or Laura could walk into the office at any moment, Lucy rushed to tell him everything she could remember. “I actually heard one of the people talking say that they couldn’t go back to someone called ‘Lord Desman’. I don’t have any idea who that could be though.”
“Thank you, Miss Carlyle. A name will make it much easier to figure out who it is we’re dealing with,” said Barnes. “Now, you mentioned that you heard people talking arguing about not being able to get past the door?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Given the physical evidence left, it’s safe to presume that they were after you. That they referred to whomever they report to as ‘Lord’ is also a clue here. Human followers of vampires always refer to the vampires they serve as ‘Lord’ – vampires do not use human titles of nobility amongst themselves. We can only conclude that at least some portion of a vampire coven has identified you as a magical and is making moves to collect you.”
“What do I do?” she worried, having completely abandoned her lunch by now. “I’ve still got deliveries to make this afternoon!”
“Do you believe you are in immediate danger Miss Carlyle?” asked Barnes in the same even voice he always used.
Lucy took stock of herself for a moment. Yes, her fingers were still tingling and had not stopped. But the pitch of the feeling was not high, and she had not felt as if she was being watched at any point today. She was not sure how much weight she should give to her instincts, but it seemed like they were telling her she was not actually in immediate danger. “I…don’t think so?” she said.
“Alright then. I will set Sergeant Wade to see what she can dig up about this ‘Lord Desman’, and have a surveillance team head out into your neighborhood – along with one of our vampire hunters, just to be safe. Are you at Arif’s store now, Miss Carlyle?”
“Yeah, I’m on my lunch break.”
“Good. I’ll have someone leave a package for you outside the store with a pager you can use as a panic button. If, at any point, you start to feel like you’re being watched or that something is amiss, use the pager to signal. The team I send out will be able to use that to find your location and move in to protect you. Do you understand, Miss Carlyle?”
“Yes,” she mumbled. She was equal parts relieved and terrified that Barnes believed her so easily. It was liberating to be listened to – to be taken seriously – but it was also worrying that the emotionless Inspector Barnes was being so quick to action.
…
Lucy did end up eating some of her cold stew after getting off the phone with Barnes – if only to ensure that Laura did not start fussing over her lack of appetite. She found a little brown paper bag outside the store on the windowsill that had the pager Barnes had told her to look out for.
As she scurried off to her next delivery, she noticed a white van parked at the other end of the street. Two men stood, speaking casually as they leaned against it. She gave them a wide berth as she passed. She did end up noticing the shinny police badges and holstered guns at their hips. It allowed her to relax a little, knowing that they were from DSRAC. It certainly helped when her magic did not give her a flare of a warning when she was in close proximity to them.
…
Lucy passed the white van a lot as she went about her rounds. They had elected to drive circled around the neighborhood. Likely so that they were not seen to be following any one specific person. It would also probably act as a warning to any vampire watching that DSRAC was on the lookout. She did not yet know if that was a good or bad thing.
Halfway through the afternoon, when Lucy returned once again to the store, she finally noticed something different. The only times the tingling ever completely went away were when she was near 35 Portland Row, or when Lockwood had been around. Right now, as she stood next to the store, she noticed a significant drop in the intensity of the tingling. It was not because of the DSRAC van that chose that moment to drive by again. It seemed to have no bearing on her magic’s warning system whatsoever. And it was not because of the relative safety of her warded home – this was something new.
She did not call DSRAC or Barnes again upon the realization. This was not something that made her feel unsafe, after all. But she was certainly going to be demanding some answers later tonight.
…
With DSRAC so close, nothing bad happened during the remainder of the day. She managed to make it back to the store with time to spare before sundown. Arif waited for her, bustling about, then bid her goodnight as he left once she was finally finished. Lucy dutifully locked both doors after him. She did not stop there though – she once again retrieved her trusty letter-opener and scored the runes George had given her into the metal doorframes she had initially ignored as more trouble than they were worth. If someone wanted to kidnap her while she slept, they would have a much harder time getting through the heavy metal store doors than her flimsy bedroom door.
With that accomplished, she marched into Arif’s office and dialed the now familiar number to Portland Row.
“Hello?” called George’s voice. He obviously had not been expecting any calls tonight. He usually picked up much faster than that.
“What did Lockwood do?” she demanded without offering any other context.
“Lucy?” exclaimed a clearly shocked George. “What do you mean, ‘what did Lockwood do’?”
“I know he did something,” she insisted, “The store feels…different now.”
George was quiet for a moment. “Give me a second,” and then he set her up on hold.
Lucy tapped her fingers agitatedly while she waited. There was no elevator music this time to bore her to tears. Instead, she was treated to a lovely blipping beep that seemed to happen at random intervals.
“Ok,” she heard George mutter as he resumed the call. “If I tell you what he said, are you going to get mad at us again?”
“I guess that depends on what he did. Is that ‘Flo’ person hiding here somewhere?” she snarked.
“I’d really like to know how you found Flo out,” she heard him mumble, almost as if to himself. “No, nobody but DSRAC’s actively watching you now.”
She hummed, as if in thought for a moment, just to toy with him a bit. “Well, then I guess that maybe I won’t get mad.”
“Lockwood went over to the store as a bird when you were out on your deliveries and spread around something that should keep vampires from sniffing about near there,” said George in one breath.
Lucy blinked. “And this mystery substance is…?”
“You know how you can use predator urine to scare smaller animals away from your garden?” asked George. “It’s like that, only for vampires.”
Lucy grimaced at that explanation. “That’s…disgusting. I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”
She tried to distract herself from her unpleasant thoughts with drawing before she made supper for the night. She was only marginally successful.
Notes:
Lockwood: *standing off to the side as Lucy hangs up on George*
George: *looks over at Lockwood*
Lockwood: *gestures spasmodically* "WTF was that!?"
George: *shrugs nonchalantly* "What? It was a good example"
Lockwood: *continues gesturing spasmodically* *face-palms*🤣😁
Chapter 16
Notes:
I am sorry, nameless DSRAC personal, but Huston, we have a problem. 😉
Chapter Text
Thankfully, Lucy had no more disturbing dreams in the night. She did not hear anyone enter the building, and when she checked the doors in the morning, they were all still securely locked. It did not make her feel any better though. She was still on edge.
There were two separate white vans circling her neighborhood when she went out on her fist delivery. It did nothing to calm her anxiety.
…
When time for her lunch break came around, Laura directed her to a letter that had been delivered with her name on it.
“You’ve got mail,” she said, handing it over. “Do you know who it’s from? There’s no return address.”
She shook her head and took the letter, feeling rather like it might decide to bite her. Laura noticed her trepidation. “Is something the matter? Do you know who it’s from?”
“No,” she answered, “That’s part of the problem.”
“Do you want me to open it for you?” asked Laura.
Lucy thought about DSRAC. She thought about her mother – her sisters. She thought about the nameless people that had invaded her home the other night. This letter could be anything – it could be a trap. But her fingers did not tingle in warning as she thumbed the envelope. Nothing was telling her that this thing she held was of a particular danger to her.
She used her thumb and pried it open. Folded neatly inside was a letter with the DSRAC logo heading it, written in a precise script that she could only assume belonged to Inspector Barnes.
Miss Carlyle,
I am writing to inform you about our ongoing investigation into threats to your person. Additional security has been sent into your neighborhood due to evidence that there are multiple interested parties looking towards your end of town.
We have also received information that said parties are proceeding cautiously in a way they would not be if there was not already a territory claim laid somewhere nearby.
As of yet, we have not managed to identify the two individuals you reported to us. Sergeant Wade has enlisted the help of several paid researchers under DSRAC’s employ to aid in tracking down the individual who’s name you gave us.
I must inform you that, should this individual be a part of a larger group, it may be necessary to relocate you. DSRAC offers you it’s full support, should such measures become necessary for your protection.
Inspector Barnes,
While not encouraging, it was nice to at least know what was going on. She wondered idly if “several paid researchers” had happened to include one George Karim.
…
The day came and went without anything exciting happening. Perhaps the two human vampire followers had been scared off by the heavy DSRAC presence. She did not know how much she believed that. It was nice to hope, at least.
…
Saturday brought about a change in the pitch of the warnings her magic was sending her. Be careful, it seemed to say, they are watching.
She used the pager to send the message to the DSRAC teams following her. Unfortunately, the end of the day brought another unmarked letter from Barnes that basically said they could not find anything that would explain the increase in her trepidation. He urged her to continue being vigilant, and to let them know if there was any other change, but there was nothing they could do at the moment. There was also a pamphlet included that proved to be instructions on how to start harnessing – and thereby concealing – her magic.
…
Lucy left the shop at 11:30am Sunday morning, cursing her own stupidity. There were some personal essentials she had not realized she had run out of which she currently needed. She could have purchased more from the store, if she had remembered at some point yesterday. While she had complete access to the store, she did not have the keys to the safe or the authority to open the registers. Arif would likely not be mad if she simply took what she needed and paid him back on Monday; but that still felt too much like stealing to her.
She could have called him and asked if she could take what she needed, but that would necessitate Arif knowing. She was too self conscious to allow that. It would not help her to call Laura – she would still need permission from Arif to allow anything.
So, with nothing else for it, Lucy set out to find the next closest convenience store still open on Sunday. It took a little time – she was unfamiliar with London outside of the range of Arif’s deliveries – but she finally managed to find one store that had what she needed.
Parked ahead of her was one of the white DSRAC vans. It was kind of unusual to see the van parked in one place – normally they drove around. All the other times she had seen the vans parked, there were agents standing outside, chatting and eating out of lunchboxes. This time there was nobody in sight.
Her magic cloyed up inside her and made her throat feel suddenly dry. Something was wrong here; she was no longer safe. Everything inside of her was suddenly screaming at her to get away. She stood there, hovering on the edge of indecision, before her magic sent a jolt through her. She stumbled and wheeled around in a sudden fright – missing the fingers of someone wearing a black hoodie that had just been reaching for her behind her back.
They cursed as she noticed them and tried to grab her again – but she was already running. No one else was around. There were no stores she could duck into to hide out. The streets she was on were unfamiliar – she did not know where she was. She had long since abandoned brining that map she had bought upon first coming to London. She did not need it when she made her deliveries any more. She zigzagged her way thought the streets, hearing footsteps pound the pavement behind her.
A DSRAC van pulled up just a few hundred yards away. An officer threw open the drivers side door, quickly stepping around to haul open the side door, motioning for her to get in. Her magic screamed at her in her veins – but there was already someone behind her trying to catch her. She flew into the van and collapsed, breaths heaving. She had a single second to take in the lumpy pile of blankets across from her. A bone white hand, smeared in something brownish-red and flaking peaked out from it. Before she could process what that meant, someone seized her from behind and pressed a cloth soaked in something smelling sickly sweet to her face.
She collapsed to the floor into a tacky spot on the carpet that smelled suspiciously like blood before the world was lost to her.
Chapter 17
Notes:
Ok...I'm going to preface this chapter with a few warnings: Lucy screams the F-word at somebody.
I have terrified myself with my depiction of vampires here,
And we're going to go with the diplomatic descriptor of "unethical medicine" for some shit that happens
All this to say, there is nothing overtly graphic here, but it is non-consensual, and please be advised if any of this happens to be dangerous for you.I am now going to crawl into bed with my back to the wall and pretend like my mind is not a terrifying place.
PS. I'm updating the tags on this story, because I feel there should be warning somewhere about what I've gotten us all into.
Chapter Text
Lucy groaned as the world started to come back into focus. Her magic sloshed through her veins, angry and unsettled. Her head pounded with a splitting headache like a second heartbeat. There was a bad taste in her dry mouth she could not quite get rid of. When she moved to clutch at her throbbing head, she found her hands were stopped short by a clanging sound and a tugging at her writs.
Memories of what had happened flooded back to her then and she sprang upright – once again pulled up just slightly short by her handcuffed wrists. She was laying on a freshly made bed with crisp smelling linens. Her cuffed hands were chained to its metal frame. Experimental tugging revealed that it was bolted to the floor. She would not be going anywhere anytime soon.
She surveyed the room around her with wide eyes. It was bare, and there were no windows, so she had no idea what time it was. Nothing in the room seemed to offer her any indication of where she was either. All she had was the bed she was chained to, and a what looked like the same kind of heavy, anti-theft door that Arif had on the room with the safe back at the store.
Terror threatened to clog her throat as she took in her sparse surroundings. This was bad. Really, really bad. She had no way of getting out – no way of knowing where she was, or how she could contact anyone who might be able to help her.
Or did she?
Shoving down her panic, Lucy checked methodically though her pockets. Perhaps she still had the pager DSRAC had left for her. Barnes had said that if she needed help, she could use it to signal the teams and they could track her location through it. To her dismay, she could not find it now. Of course, it had been too much to hope that these people would not know about DSRAC’s methods. They had probably searched her the second she was unconscious and gotten rid of the pager at the first opportunity.
It was only slightly latter that Lucy found the box she had gone out to buy sitting innocuously on the floor next to the bed. She scowled at it for a long time. Well, at least she would have something unpleasant to throw at these people…things…when they decided to show their faces. It obviously would not hurt them, but if she was lucky it would pause them long enough for her to make a brake for it.
…
Unfortunately, when someone finally did come to get her, they were not fazed by what she threw at their face. A little grossed out, maybe, but not fazed.
…
“You know,” said the man currently dragging her kicking and screaming down this windowless hallway. “This’d be a lot easier for you if you stopped struggling.”
“Fuck off! You were in my house!” she snapped. The second he spoke, she recognized his voice as one of the ones from her dream.
She was scratching and clawing and trying anything she could to get away from him. But they had chosen well in sending him to retrieve her – he was easily three times her size. Nothing she did made any difference.
He glanced back at her as he dragged her unceremoniously around a corner. “The fact you even know that in the first place is proof of what you are. Lord Desman will be pleased,” commented the man. “You could use that, you know. If you co-operate, his Lordship may be persuaded to keep you safe.”
She did not dignify that advice with an answer. Instead, she chose to redouble her efforts to get away. The guy heaved a great sigh, before picking her bodily up and throwing her over his shoulder while she screeched like a banshee and tried to gouge his eyes with her bare hands.
They reached another unmarked, heavy looking anti-theft door and the man paused. “Last chance to co-operate.”
“LET ME GO!” she screeched.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” was his only response. Then he was opening the door and setting her back on the floor. She heard the click of handcuffs being put back on her wrists behind her. He shoved her further into the room, pulling the heavy door shut with a clang, making sure to keep a firm grip on her shoulders to stop her from making a break for it.
The second she crossed the threshold into the room, her protests died on her lips. She snapped her mouth shut and stood staring ahead rigidly. This room was set up almost like a doctor’s office – only, she had never felt so terrified at the doctors before. It was clean and smelled of antiseptic, but there were still no windows, and a heavy feeling of terror seemed to cling to the very air. Inside her, Lucy felt her magic curdle and hide away like a frightened child. It made her tremble where she stood.
“Ah, good,” came a smooth voice from across the room. “Wonderful work boys. I was beginning to think you’d outlived your usefulness when first you failed to retrieve what I asked. This is certainly the one we wanted.”
Lucy felt her heartbeat kick into overdrive, the muscle trying it’s darndest to fling itself right out her chest. Before her stood a tall, well-dressed man – his suit crisp, his buttons so highly polished they shone with their own light, and a flowing long overcoat in the richest royal blue velvet she had ever seen. This, this was a vampire. A real, live – ish – vampire. She had no doubt about it.
His nostrils flared as he stepped towards her, scenting the air. A cruel smile lit his sharp features. Lucy could not tare herself away from staring into his eyes. They were…empty. She had asked George how you became a vampire. He had told her that you had to die – that your soul shattered when you did and left you with nothing but the worst parts of yourself. Or barring that, filled you with the insatiable hunger of a predator that hunted humans. Now, she understood what that meant. This…thing…this was not human. Not anymore. Not for a long time.
She could not look away from those eyes. It was like looking into the ocean, only to see it without any water, creatures and plants still drifting about in it’s eddies as if there were. It was beyond wrong – beyond terror. She could not move.
“I believe we can do away with those cuffs now, don’t you think?” drawled the thing in front of her in that sickly-smooth voice it had. She did not even react when she felt the handcuffs fall away. She could not, even if she wanted to. He floated closer to her, drifting almost as if on air.
“You won’t run away now, will you dear?” asked the creature with a cunning smile. “You’ll stay right here, where we can take good care of you, won’t you?”
Her mind felt fuzzy. Her eyes were glued to that of this thing. It did not even startle her that they were gleaming with red pupils instead of black.
“Wont’ you?”
Her mouth moved to form words. Before she could though, a shock as if of lightning struck her – complete with the metallic smell of ozone in the air. Her magic slammed back towards the surface, causing her to stumble and nearly fall. A roaring filled her ears and chased the fuzziness that had taken up residence there away. She staggered on her feet before being caught by the large man who had dragged her here.
“I…I…WON’T!” she shouted, finally managing to tare her eyes away from that of the thing in front of her. She swayed on her feet, trying to get her bearings back as magic crashed through her veins like a tidal wave.
Somewhere nearby there was the sound of laughter that set her teeth on edge.
“Well, well! Colour me impressed, young lady,” chuckled the sicky-smooth voice of the vampire. “You certainly have an uncommon gift for magic.” He grinned at her, revealing his viciously elongated incisors.
She barely had time to think that this could not be good when it pounced. Before she could even blink, the vampire seized her and slammed her down onto the medical table sitting in pride of place in the centre of the room. With the wind knocked so completely out of her, she was not able to do anything to stop what happened next. The vampire moved so fast it blurred around her, and before she knew it, she was strapped down to the table in padded leather cuffs, not able to move a single inch.
She wanted to scream and thrash and fight, but primal terror clouded her mind and all she managed to do was let out a single strangled whine of hiccoughing terror.
“She’s too valuable to risk killing by letting everyone in the coven feed on her,” stated the vampire briskly. “And she is powerful enough that we might actually be able to get useful magical essence from her blood alone, even with her still alive. Blood bags may be infinitely distasteful for civilized society, but I think in this one instance, it is a necessary evil. See to it, and make sure that she is kept alive and cared for. I will return to the coven tonight and present our findings to the Elders.”
“Of course, Lord Desman,” simpered another voice she had not yet heard. She recognized it as the other voice from her dream. In her preoccupation with the vampire, Lucy completely missed the other human in the room. This one was tall and slight, dressed in a long white lab coat that had her palms sweating and her heart racing.
She watched him rummage around in drawers for things, before wheeling over a medical cart next to her. He did not even need to swab her arm with disinfectant for her to already see where this was going, and allow her terror to explode out of her.
“Get away! Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. But the vampire had done his job too well – she could not move a muscle. She was unable to even flinch away at the coldness of the disinfectant as it swabbed her inner arm; the sting of the needle sinking into her vein had her screaming in earnest. Mr. Big and Stupid from before took the opportunity to shove a wad of cloth into her mouth to shut her up.
“You realize that’s not going to work long-term, right?” snarked Dr. Psycho.
Mr. Big and Stupid shrugged. “Works for now though, doesn’t it?”
Dr. Psycho sighed and shook his head. He decided not to comment further and instead bustled about hooking her up to standard medical equipment she would never look at the same way ever again.
…
In reality, the whole ordeal could have been a lot worse. Dr. Psycho did not touch her after setting up the monitoring equipment and the blood bag. That did not mean that it was not the worst thing she had ever experienced. It did not take long for her to give up trying to struggle –tensing her muscles like that and trying to move only succeeded in tugging on the needle in her arm and making it hurt.
She fell to sobbing silently in terror rather quickly. Mr. Big and Stupid left, not seeing any point in being there since she was strapped down too tight to move anyway.
The vampire came back into the room when the bag of blood was finally full and Dr. Psycho was taking it off. Upon entering, the vampire froze for a second, breathing in deeply and baring his fangs in sick ecstasy. “She is dripping in magic,” he practically moaned, “Is it possible to get a second bag from her?”
“I would recommend against –”
But whatever Dr. Psycho was going to recommend against, she did not find out. At that exact moment, the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor came through. There was maybe a second of stunned silence while everyone stared at the door. It bust off its hinges and was flung clear across the room immediately after, narrowly missing the table Lucy was strapped to.
She hiccoughed a frightened sob, wondering what fresh horror had come to greet her. But then she saw what – or rather who was standing in the doorway. Lockwood.
The vampire snarled, inhuman and feral at the sight of Lockwood. In the blink of an eye, it sprang towards him, deadly fangs bared. Lucy had a single second of terrified worry before cabinets splintered at their collision, Lockwood managing to throw the vampire off himself in a single smooth roll. This time, Lockwood matched the vampires warning growl with one of his own. That was when she saw – when she knew. Lockwood was barring his teeth in a way he absolutely never did, and now she knew why. He had fangs too. Lockwood was a vampire!
“You have no claim to her!” snarled the vampire.
“I can tell that you have none either,” answered Lockwood. He sounded furious, but calm in a way that clearly enraged the other vampire.
They clashed again – but Lockwood, it seemed had the upper hand. He forced the other vampire to look him dead in the eye – and she saw his pupils burn red as he stared intently at them. “You saw nothing,” he asserted in a tone that brooked no argument. “There is no magical living near Portland Row. You did not send your followers to retrieve anyone. You have nothing to report to your coven. When you wake, your mind will be your own. Now sleep!”
The other vampires’ eyes rolled shut as they dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. But while Lockwood had been busy, Dr. Psycho had been inching closer – a switch blade clutched in his hand. When his master dropped, he sprang forward and managed to slice Lockwood along the back of his shoulder.
Faster than the blink of an eye, Lockwood hissed in pain and spun, knocking the blade out of Dr. Psycho’s hand and slamming him into the wall to the side. Dr. Psycho tried to avoid his eye, but seemed unable to look away as Lockwood’s pupils burned red once again. He spoke all the same commands to Dr. Psycho as he had the other vampire, with the same result as a sleeping form once again dropped to the ground at his feet.
Lockwood stood quivering in place for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to face her. His eyes looked normal again, but she could not get the image of his pupils burning red out of her mind. She flinched away from him as he cautiously approached, dragging in a shocked breath as she jostled the needle still in her arm again.
“Lucy,” he whispered in a tone meant to be soothing, “I know your scared. Let me help, let me get you out of here.”
She was sweating, and shivering, and sobbing uncontrollably. Trying to hide when she could not even move, jostling the needle and making it hurt in the process. She nearly choked on a sob when she felt Lockwood’s fingers carefully grasp her chin and turn her face towards him – he took out the wad of fabric that had been gagging her.
The second his fingers touched her skin, she felt her frothing magic suddenly go quiet. It burned as it swirled through her veins, the same way luke-warm water burns your hands when you have been outside in the cold for too long and are trying to bring some feeling back to your fingers.
“No, no,” she sobbed in earnest now, not even sure what she did not want. Her magic seared against every fibre of her being. “It hurts,” she moaned before she even knew what she was saying.
A look of worry passed over Lockwood’s face. “Lucy?” he asked.
But she did not know how to respond anymore. Her ears were ringing and she was losing some kind of battle inside herself. “No,” she moaned again as blackness creeped into the edges of her vision.
The last thing she knew before oblivion was Lockwood’s voice telling her that he was going to get her out of there – that she was going to be ok.
Chapter 18
Notes:
Well then, all the scary stuff is out of the way, and now we get to see how the chips are going to start to fall between our three favourite friends!
Chapter Text
The next time Lucy came too, there was no cloying terror rushing through her veins – no magic chomping at the bit like a wild stallion on a rampage. In place of all that was a yawning emptiness where her magic should have been. She felt hollowed out and sore, so much so she did not want to open her eyes to find herself still in danger.
“…know how you could have managed to get her all the way here without being seen by anyone,” she heard someone say from somewhere in the room.
“I know how to pass unnoticed George,” answered a different voice. “It was…difficult certainly, but not impossible.”
Lockwood – that was who that was. Lockwood and George were both here. How could they be here? But even as her confusion surged up, what she had seen before passing out came back too.
She lurched up suddenly, dislodging the warm and soft wool blanket that had been draped over her. She listed sideways into the arm of a sofa with her vision spinning out of focus; she had to fight not to lose whatever contents her stomach still had to be lost.
“What the hell!?” startled George, “Lucy!”
“Stay away!” she commanded, her voice wavering like a spinning top on its last leg.
She looked around and found herself in a pleasant sitting room, complete with crackling fireplace and nice large windows pointing out onto the street. The stars twinkled cheerily in the sky outside. Dotted around the room were numerous foreign curios she had absolutely no interest in learning about at the moment. Somehow, she knew she was in the boys’ house at Portland Row.
George was standing in the doorway of the room next to Lockwood with a first aid kit clutched firmly in his hands. She eyed it in growing horror before she flicked a glance at Lockwood. Her breaths stuttered for a moment, even though nothing else was telling her she was in danger here.
“George, get away!” she howled, “He’s a vampire! Lockwood’s a vampire!”
But George’s expression did not change as he eyed her shrewdly. He did not startle, or spring away from the predator beside him in horror. Lockwood merely looked resigned about the turn of events.
“I already knew that,” answered George in as even a voice as he could manage.
She stared in horror at him for a second before flinching away, curling into as tight a ball as she could manage on the furthest portion of the couch from the pair. She clutched the arm like a lifeline as she willed the world around her to stop spinning.
“You…but he’s…and you’re…You’re insane!” she stuttered, curling further into herself. She buried her face in her hands and tried to hold the shattering pieces of her sanity together. Even with all her efforts, a single wretched sob managed to break free. “Stay away from me,” she pleaded.
She heard someone move as if to approach her, and her eyes flew back up, along with a startled gasp. George, who had been trying to take a few cautious steps towards her halted in place and sighed. Lucy’s eyes kept flying back and forth from him, the medical kit, and Lockwood.
“I’ll leave the room,” offered Lockwood into the silence. “I’m only making her more anxious by being here.”
She tried to choke down the sound of ascent she made involuntarily. George shook his head though. “No, she has to know she can trust her instincts, and that you’re not going to hurt her. You have to be here for that at least.”
The world twisted around her. The yawning emptiness gaped at her, making her whimper. Weather it was pain or fear though, she was not sure.
George watched her eyes flick back to the kit in his hands for a moment longer before he slowly placed it on the coffee table. He telegraphed his moves, making it obvious what he was doing the whole time, and then took a measured step away from the kit once it was out of his hands. Despite herself, Lucy felt her muscles relax just a little.
“Lucy, do you feel threatened right now?” he asked as he watched her.
“What?” she whispered.
“Do you feel threatened right now?”
She stared at him with wide eyes. Yes, she absolutely did! There was a vampire standing right over there! But the words got stuck on the way out her mouth – because she could lie all she wanted to them, but not to herself. This was the first time in days where she did not feel threatened.
Geoge did not seem to need her to answer him with words. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and made cautious steps towards her.
Lucy watched; eyes wide. “He’s…controlling you,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. “I…saw what happened with the others…He…He’s controlling you, isn’t he?”
George gave her an exasperated look. “Do you really think that if that was actually true, I’d answer that question honestly?” he questioned.
She did not know what to say.
“You already know that’s not true Lucy,” the continued softly. He was an arms-length away by now, so he knelt to the ground and offered her one of his hands – never once breaking eye contact. “Do I look like someone’s controlling me?” he asked. “Take my hand and look me in the eye, and tell me you think someone is controlling me, Lucy.”
“George,” interrupted Lockwood softly. “Her magic’s all over the place right now. You shouldn’t be encouraging her to tap into it.”
“This is instinct Lockwood – barely magic. No matter what her magic is like right now, it won’t hurt her to do this,” offered George.
Hesitantly, Lucy reached for his outstretched hand and stared into his eyes.
“Do you think I’m being controlled?” asked George once again.
“No,”
He nodded in encouragement. “Do you think Lockwood is going to hurt you?”
She did not answer right away. “He’s a vampire,” she mumbled, “He’s a Covenist vampire –”
“I’m not,” asserted Lockwood suddenly.
Her eyes snapped over to him. He did not look angry, which would have only confirmed her fears. He was firm though, and met her eyes steadily. There was no lie in that look – no trickery. He believed what he said. Some part of her knew it was truth though, so she believed him too. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, “How are you different?”
Because he was different. When she had looked that other vampire in the eye, she had seen him for what he was – a hollow shell filled with malice. Lockwood’s eyes did not look like that. She saw pain, self-loathing, protective instinct, self-assuredness, pride, and a whole host of other things. Human things, all of them. Nowhere was that frightening emptiness.
She swayed where she sat. Geoge moved to steady her, and she let him, never breaking eye contact with Lockwood. She had felt glued to that other vampire when she had seen him. She did not feel that with Lockwood – or at least, not in the same way. His eyes looked human, with no hint of that red-tinted pupil from before. She did not feel the fuzziness invade her head, or an answering electric shock of magic to clear it. He was not trying to make her compliant. She knew he could – she had seen him do it. But he was not trying.
“I was a Rampager,” said Lockwood.
“I didn’t think vampires could change that,” she mumbled.
Lockwood ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Not on their own, they can’t,” he sighed. “Someone else cured me – restored my soul to me.”
There was silence as she slowly processed what he had told her.
“I don’t feel well,” she murmured, swaying in George’s hold.
“Lucy,” called George to get her attention. Her eyes slid slowly back to him. “I need you to tell me what happened – anything you felt your magic do that you did not understand.”
“I…can’t…I don’t know,” she said as he helped her to uncurl slightly and lay back down.
“I need you to try,” he encouraged. “What did you feel?”
“…Fuzziness,” she muttered, “And lightning.”
George just blinked at her, clearly not understanding. But Lockwood stepped forward suddenly. “ ‘Fuzziness’?” he asked sharply, “Lucy, did you at any point find yourself unable to look away from that other vampires eyes and notice that his pupils were red?”
“Yeah…s’t’when the fuzziness happened…the lightning made it stop…”
Lockwood sucked in a sharp breath in his surprise. “You fought off his thrall instinctively, with magic.”
George looked nothing short of shell-shocked. “That would have taken a lot of magic.”
“And since she’s never had any training, she would have effectively drained herself,” agreed Lockwood. “That’s why she lost consciousness – and why she’s still feeling so unwell. They did not take enough of her blood to have caused those effects any other way.”
“Right,” said George suddenly as he stood up. “We’re not going to need anything in here then.”
He surged up, sized the first aid kit and bustled quickly out of the room. Lucy watched him leave with half lidded eyes. In his absence, Lockwood approached her cautiously. “Miss Carlyle,” he said, “I know you don’t quite understand what’s happening right now, or why you feel the way you do. But George knows what he’s doing. Let him help you, and I can promise you you’ll start to feel better.”
She did not answer – did not know how to. She only hugged her arms closer to her chest and hoped she really could trust him.
George was not gone long. He bustled back in, carrying a monstrous old leather-bound tome. He plopped it onto the coffee table in front of her, placing an old oil pastel onto the table next to it and began riffling through the pages muttering to himself.
“If it helps – I think her magic might be directly tied into her physical health,” commented Lockwood as he watched George flip through the book.
George paused and looked up at him for a moment. “That does help, actually. Historically that was much more common than it is now, so there’s a whole slew of healing runes listed here that should be able to help. There’re also different runes than you’d normally use for magical exhaustion.” He flipped to a new section in the book, read through whatever he found there before nodding to himself and taking up the oil pastel.
Goerge then knelt on the floor next to her and called to get her attention. “Alright, Lucy. I need to see your arm, ok?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, hugging herself more tightly as she shivered. “No…I…no,” she hiccoughed.
“You need to explain to her what’s happening, George. She’s scared, and she doesn’t understand. She can’t right now, her magic’s too thready,” called Lockwood.
George shot a look over his shoulder before nodding. He tapped Lucy’s hand gently to get her attention again, but she still startled. “Hey, there’s nothing to be scared of. I need your arm so I can draw a few healing runes on your skin, ok?” he soothed. “You’re probably feeling empty right now in the absence of your usual magic. The runes I’m talking about will help direct the ambient magic that exists naturally in the world towards you. That means your store of magic will recover more quickly than it could if you were left on your own, and that empty feeling will fade faster. Is that ok?”
Lucy blinked at him with over-large eyes and sniffled.
“Will you give me your arm, Lucy?” prodded George gently.
Hesitantly, she offered up her uninjured arm. George gave her an encouraging nod before gently taking hold of her wrist and pushing her sleeve up her arm to reveal more skin. Oil pastel in hand, he began drawing the mentioned runes onto her.
“You’re probably going to feel a heat or a pressure start to build in your chest,” explained George as he finished the first rune and moved onto the next. “Don’t be scared by that – it won’t hurt you, and it won’t last long. There is always more magic in the world than there is in us, so these runes are kind of like poking a small hole in a water bottle and holding it up to let the liquid out. The water still presses down everywhere, even if it can’t get through in any other place. Once you’re fully saturated with magic again, those sensations will stop on their own, ok?”
“Why is it sore?” she managed to choke out in a strangled kind of whisper.
“Because you exhausted yourself. You used more magic at once than you were ready to handle, and it overwhelmed your senses. That feeling of ‘lightning’ you mentioned is a reaction of your body, kind of like when you see flashing spots in your vision after looking at a bright light for too long. You’re feeling so sore because your muscles and body were stretched to their limits in the instant you unleashed all that magic, and are now trying to make up for that.”
“You pulled a muscle,” offered Lockwood when she still looked like she did not understand. “And now you have to give yourself time to let it heal.”
“Ok,” she murmured somewhat sleepily.
George drew a series of four intricate runes along her arm, then helped her to lie more fully on her back. “Alright Lucy, I have to draw one more rune on your neck.”
“Why?”
“Because the ones on your arm are for directing more magic towards you safely at an even rate so you don’t become overwhelmed,” he explained. “But that alone won’t be enough – you need something to help that new magic actually settle and acclimatize to your body, or it won’t stay. I have to draw it on your neck because that magic needs both your heart and your nervous system to work. The major veins leading to the heart, the spinal cord and other nerves located in the neck make it the perfect place for that rune to work effectively.
“Once I finish the rune, you’re going to start to feel magic wash through you. It’s going to be uncomfortable at first. The magic deficit in your body is like an open wound, and until it fills with enough magic, it’s going to sting at least a little. The sensations shouldn’t last for too long, but you need to be prepared. Depending on how your body reacts, it could start almost instantly when I finish the rune, or may take longer to build up. The faster it starts, the more intense the sensations will be. Given what I’ve seen of your magic so far, I think your going to have a more extreme reaction to this than most.”
“Will…will it hurt?” she asked timidly.
George’s expression seemed to crack a little. “If your reaction is as strong as I expect it to be,” he hedged, “Then yes, it will.”
Her breathing sped up a little, and she squirmed away, huddling against the arm of the sofa again. She saw Lockwood step up next to Goerge and squeeze his shoulder. “Is there no other way?” he asked quietly.
George shook his head looking sad. “Not unless she wants to spend the next five or more days feeling unsteady on her feet and fainting any time her heart rate goes up even a little.”
“Will it cause any problems if you wait a little bit before you finish the last rune?”
George seemed to think about it for a moment. He pulled the large tome towards himself, flipped through for a little bit, then nodded to himself and snapped it closed. “It won’t, no. The runes I’ve already drawn will still offer her some relief, she just won’t actually recover any faster unless I complete the last one.”
“Then I think we need to give Miss Carlyle a bit of a break,” declared Lockwood. “She did loose some blood. She needs to eat something.”
Chapter 19
Notes:
Guys, I'm sorry, but I'm being mean to Lucy again.
Chapter Text
Lucy bonelessly slumped back onto the couch as George backed off and gave her space. She only half listened to the conversation that started up at her feet.
“That means I have to make supper now. Or breakfast, I guess, with how late it is,” grumbled George half-heartedly.
Lucy saw the corners of Lockwood’s mouth twitch up into a close-lipped smile. “Well, I certainly can’t do it. You banned me from ever trying to cook in your kitchen again.”
“You almost burned the house down trying to make toast!” snarked George, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“In my defence,” answered Lockwood, “No one ever taught me how to cook.”
“Not an excuse!” called Goerge over his shoulder as he left the room. “You’re almost 400 years old. You’ve had more than enough time to learn!”
Lockwood chuckled quietly as George stomped off before focusing back in on her. “Is there anything you need right now, Miss Carlyle?” he asked.
“M’sorry,” she murmured. She was starting to feel that pressure on her chest George had told her to expect. There was a pleasant tingling feeling in her skin now. She almost could have mistaken it for the warmth of sitting next to the crackling fire in the grate just a few feet away. The sensations were slowly and steadily building inside her, though they were not bad. But now her mind was spinning, and it was becoming hard to focus.
Lockwood was watching her intently. “What are you sorry for?” the asked quietly.
“M’sorry I was so mad,” she breathed. “You tried to warn me.”
A soft look crossed his face as she saw him come to stand next to her. He stopped short of actually touching her though. She almost wished he had not.
“For what it’s worth Lucy, I’m sorry too. I went behind your back when I sent someone to tail you during the day. I should have spoken with you about it first, and explained why I thought it was necessary.”
She tried focusing on her breathing; blinking her eyes trying to stay awake. The empty feeling was still there. It was somewhat dinted now by other sensations, but she still noticed it.
“You’re really not yourself right now, are you?” commented Lockwood softly. He knelt in front of her, but paused before doing anything else. “May I?” he questioned.
She was no longer sure what was going on – what he wanted. She did not feel threatened, so she breathed her ascent to whatever it was he was asking.
Lockwood gently took hold of her chin and tilted her face up to the light. He thumbed her drooping eyelids open and watched her pupils dilate in the glare. Her breath hitched slightly when he pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her neck.
“Just focus on your breathing. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She could not stop herself from twitching nervously under his hand. The pressure on her chest and the warm feeling were making everything cloudy. She wondered if her grasp on consciousness was going to start to slip too. While she might have decided to trust these two for now, she did not have much choice. She was in no condition to get away if she needed to.
Lockwood gently held her in place. “Lucy, I can hear your heart rate and your breathing picking up. There’s no need for you to be scared. You’re having a more acute reaction to your magical exhaustion than I’ve ever seen. I’m merely making sure there’s not anything else we need to worry about, that would necessitate seeking out medical help for you.”
“If you can…why are you…I don’t want,” she stuttered. She was having trouble stringing together a full sentence now.
“My senses are heightened enough to allow for me to discern your heart rate and breathing without touching you,” he explained patiently as he pulled back his hand. “But those are not the only important signals of your health or wellbeing. Your blood pressure dropping suddenly would be dangerous for you. We’d have to take you to the doctors at DSRAC if that were the case. I’ve learned to be able to determine blood pressure in a vein close to the surface with simple physical contact. That’s what I was doing, ok?”
“Is…?”
“No,” he asserted. “Your blood pressure seems to be well within a normal range. I just had to check. Rest now, alright? Once you’ve eaten something, George will draw the last rune, and we’ll help you through whatever reaction you have to it. Then you can sleep. You’ll be right as rain by the morning.”
…
She lay there panting with dried tear tracks staining her face.
George had returned to the room with a bowl full of a simple supper of rice, lentils and green beans, and a glass each of orange juice and water. He stood over her like a stern mother bringing unruly children to heel as she’d slowly worked her way through the bowl and the two glasses. Lockwood had stood off to the side trying to hide his amusement. She had been too sleepy by that point to be annoyed at him.
Once he was satisfied, George had gotten her to lay down again – Lockwood had come up to stand at his shoulder in case he was needed. Then George had asked if she was ready, and drew the last rune on her neck. The oil pastel had not even left her skin when she started seizing.
It was only because of Lockwood’s much faster reflexes that she had not ended up braining herself on the coffee table, or falling right off the couch. He grabbed her and held her still the second he heard the startled wheeze leave her throat once the rune was complete. Both boys held her while searing lightning made its way through her body.
It was not like it had hurt – but it had hurt. She had felt like they were trying to force life back into frostbitten fingers and toes that were so cold they were already dead. Only, rather than it just being fingers and toes, it was her whole body. She had screamed, and wheezed and cried for what felt like an entire lifetime – but it had really only lasted less than a full minute.
Lockwood was at her head with his fingers on her pulse point again, talking her through getting back control of her breathing. George was somewhere off to the side out of her line of site doing something – he had said what it was, but she could not remember.
“Here, we need to get her to drink this,” stated George in a frazzled sort of mania.
Both boys helped her to sit up and drink the glass of water they pressed on her. It somehow tasted chalky and she had wanted to turn away, but neither of them let her and were not satisfied until the entire glass was empty. They tucked her in with the wool blanket again and hovered over her as she shivered. She felt her chest start to fill with magic once again while sleep started to creep up on her. Ah, that was what the chalky taste had been then. They were putting her to sleep.
Chapter 20
Notes:
Hey guys, I'm done being mean to Lucy now! 😁
Chapter Text
Lucy woke to sunlight hitting her in the face. She scowled at it, squinting in the light as she sat up. The blanket fell off her shoulders to settle across her legs.
She started taking stock of herself then. The empty feeling was gone now, as well as the soreness that had plagued her before. There was a neat little band aid over the spot on her inner arm where the needle had gone in – dark bruising peaking around the edges. The heavy feeling was still in her chest, though presumably that was because of the runes still scrawled across her skin.
“Good morning,” called someone from across the room.
She spun to find Lockwood sitting in an armchair across from her with a book still in his lap, watching. Though she felt a flicker of trepidation, she did not feel the same terror she had last night upon seeing him. He had not once hurt her – had not tried to control her or anything else. But she was still wary.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. He took his book and crisply closed it before setting it on the table next to him.
“Fine,” she breathed as she watched him.
He let out a heavy breath before casting his eyes to the ceiling. “At least I know you’re not still delirious from magic exhaustion,” he sighed. “I assume you have questions.”
“I’ve seen you in sunlight,” she said immediately.
His body tensed as if waiting for an attack. It made her furrow her brows suspiciously.
“Yes,” came his only response.
“You controlled that man and that other vampire back there.”
“I enthralled them. I did not take control,” he said, answering the unspoken questions in her words. “Their minds will be their own by the time they wake up.”
“What did you really do to them?”
“I made them forget anything to do with you.”
“How many magicals did you kill to be able to do things like that?”
He recoiled from her as if struck. Shaking fit to fall apart, he refused to meet her eye. “…I don’t know,” he whispered.
“You don’t know?” she remarked acidly. She was so angry all of a sudden, she was furious. “What, it’s so many you lost count!? Or did you just not care enough to remember them!?”
“I can’t remember what I did! I was a Rampager!” he exploded. He was looking at her now with a wild kind of panic in his eyes.
She weathered it like a rock in a storm. He was breathing hard, clenching and unclenching his fists as he held himself rigidly in his chair. Maybe she was being stupid, but his obvious shame and regret blew away all her anger. She remembered thinking that someone must have hurt him badly at some point in his past. Only now was she realizing just how badly.
“Why can’t you remember?” she asked softly.
The change in her tone seemed to throw him for a loop. He had been curling inwards, but now he froze and cast her a searching look. “I…can’t remember anything that happened from the moment I died until the moment I woke up, after having my soul returned to me.”
She searched his eyes. There was a desperate kind of supplication in them. He was begging her silently to believe him – to know that anything he might have done, it hadn’t really been him to do it.
“Ok,” she said as she watched him. “Ok.”
He sent her a startled look. “That’s…it?” he asked bemusedly.
“I believe you.”
He slumped in his chair – clearly not having expected her to say that. “Thank you,” he breathed.
Before anyone could say anything else, George bustled in carrying a tray filled with eggs, toast and bacon, as well as glasses of orange juice. He cast an evaluative look around the room. “Am I interrupting something important?” he asked.
Lockwood sent him a wobbly-looking close-lipped smile. “No. You’re right on time in fact.”
George continued to assess them both for several seconds before shrugging to himself. “Whatever. How are you feeling Lucy? You look better.”
“I’m fine now, I think.”
“Are you still experiencing soreness? Light-headedness? Does anything hurt?” he prodded.
She just shook her head. “No, nothing. I feel, normal again.”
His glasses flashed as he regarded her for a long moment, then he nodded to himself and started dishing out the food he had brought. “Alright, good. I brought breakfast, and a wet-wipe for getting the oil pastel off. If you’re feeling fine now, there’s no need for the runes to stay in place.”
He platted out a mountain of food for her, as well as some for himself. For Lockwood, he seemed to have only brought a steaming cup of tea and nothing else. Once she was set with her food, he plopped himself into the only other chair in the room and began eating without any other preamble. Lucy followed suit – she’d learned a long time ago to never turn her nose up at food when it was offered. He did not speak until her plate was mostly empty.
“Are you going to report Lockwood to DSRAC?” he asked out of the blue.
“George,” cautioned Lockwood.
But George threw the vampire a pointed look. “I figured you’d not asked the question – and it needs to be asked. She found out you’re a vampire in the worst possible situation, mate. I’d not blame her if she was still scared enough to run to DSRAC for protection.”
The two boys glared at each other. It seemed to Lucy like they had forgotten she was even there.
“I won’t say anything,” she said to break the silence.
They both whipped around and gave her astonished expressions.
“ – If,” she stressed, “Lockwood is willing to come to the store with me.”
“Why do you want that?” asked George suspiciously.
“I want to see if he can walk through my doorway.”
A look of understanding crossed George’s face then. Lockwood still looked a little lost. “You want to see if the protection runes stop him from crossing the threshold,” George surmised.
“Yes.”
“There are protection runes on every door and window in this house. Is that enough proof he’s not dangerous for you?” he asked.
“No, it’s not,” admitted Lucy. “I’d have no way of knowing if you’ve done something to interfere with the way they work so that Lockwood can still move around. I know the runes on my door work – they stopped those two human vampire followers from getting in. I want to see if he can pass through my door unhindered.”
“They reached your bedroom door!?” hissed Lockwood under his breath at the same time that George said, “That’s…a fair request.”
“Will you do it?” she asked, looking challengingly at Lockwood.
“Yes, of course,” he answered immediately. “If it’ll put you at ease. Just…not today, I think.”
“Why not?” she questioned, suspicious.
“You were under active DSRAC protection and disappeared,” cut in George. “That would not have gone unnoticed for very long. The second you leave this house and head to Arif’s, DSRAC is going to be right on top of you. For obvious reasons, it’s better if Lockwood stays well outside of DSRAC’s notice.”
“They don’t know about you?” she asked.
“No,” answered Geroge before Lockwood could open his mouth. “They do not. And it’s best if we keep it that way.”
“But, why? If you’re not dangerous –”
“I am dangerous,” muttered Lockwood without making eye contact. “I’m just not a threat. But that will not make a difference to DSRAC.”
Lucy watched his tense form and wondered what she was missing.
“You would have no way of knowing this,” said George, “But the only way DSRAC can handle vampires is by killing them. They don’t have any other option. They can’t incarcerate them long-term – even the weakest vampires are far stronger than the average human – it’s too easy for them to escape. And if they weaken vampires enough that they can’t break out, it only makes them more hungry and therefore more aggressive and dangerous.”
“…Inspector Barnes is not like that,” she muttered.
“He’s one of the few really good ones in DSRAC,” sighed George. “Barnes genuinely cares about protecting the lives of the magicals he is put in charge of – that’s always been his priority. But even Barnes does not have another option when it comes to vampires.”
“But, there is another option! He’s –”
“Lockwood is the only vampire I know of that has had their soul returned to them,” cut in George before she could finish gesticulating in Lockwood’s direction. “And the method of achieving it was lost almost as soon as it was found. Lockwood initially reached out to me because he wanted my help in replicating his cure. We haven’t managed it yet, and until we can, if DSRAC finds out about Lockwood, they will kill him.”
“And any human I associate with can be put in jail for knowing about me and not turning me in,” muttered Lockwood. He sounded so tired. But this was his entire life, she realized. He had to deal with this. The only others like him were…monsters, really. And it would probably be hard for humans to trust him when they knew he could take control of them at any point and make them do anything he wanted.
“You’re not being aggressive right now,” she pointed out to George’s confusion.
“What?” snapped George. He turned to glare at Lockwood in accusation, eyes boring into the side of his head. “What’s she talking about?”
“He got cut when he came to rescue me,” she offered, “You’re not being aggressive right now, even though you got hurt.” She watched as a muscle jumped in George’s forehead, and Lockwood became suddenly very interested in the ceiling again.
“Lockwood!” exploded George. “You were injured!? Are you trying to give yourself rapid onset brain atrophy!? I know for a fact you haven’t fed since before Lucy showed up – and then you went and got injured and didn’t think to say anything?”
“It was the middle of the night by the time I got her here to safety,” answered Lockwood while still staring at the ceiling. “I couldn’t very well abandon Lucy with no protection when she was already so vulnerable.”
“Maybe you couldn’t have left, but I could have!” shouted George. “If you’d told me, I could have gone out to that 24-hour butcher I know who doesn’t ask questions if I want a bloody cut of meat.”
“Yes,” drawled Lockwood, finally looking around challengingly at George. “Because DSRAC would not have asked any questions of you had they noticed you wondering around with a bloody cut of meat at midnight in the same neighborhood as a powerful magical they knew was kidnapped by vampire servants.”
A ringing silence filled the space as both boys continued to glare at the other. They each knew the other had good points, but neither seemed willing to back down.
“You don’t feed on people?” asked Lucy quietly. It was a means to break the sudden tension, as well as it was an honest question. She was both curious and slightly terrified of the answer.
Once again, George answered her vampire question before Lockwood could open his mouth. “He hasn’t fed on a human since the cereal rapist and murderer he killed 300 years ago. And, unless I missed something, that is the only human he’s fed on since having his soul returned to him.”
“You’re not wrong,” commented Lockwood. Then he turned his attention back to her. “No, Miss Carlyle, I do not feed on people. I actually don’t have much in the way of vampiric instincts – George thinks it’s because there was no room for them once I had my soul returned to me – so I’m somewhat exempt from the hunger and aggression that characterizes normal vampire behaviour. But I do still have to feed in order to survive. I just fly out to the countryside when I need to and hunt normal game to feed instead.”
“He’s left it too long before and was so weak he couldn’t get up – hence the butcher I made friends with,” tacked on Geroge.
Lockwood sent him a scathing look, but did not refute his claim.
Lucy watched them both for a little while. This was probably the most insane, stupid thing she had ever done. But somehow, she found she trusted these two idiots. They traded barbed words like points in a jousting match where neither could get the upper hand. They were growing on her. And she might still be set on testing Lockwood – but she could admit, at least to herself that she’d already made her decision on him.
“It still makes you sound like an old man when you call me ‘Miss Carlyle’,” commented Lucy.
George snorted before burying his nose in a comic book that was sitting on the table next to him.
Lockwood’s lips twitched for a second. “I regret to inform you Miss Carlyle,” he said in a mock-serious tone, “But I am an old man.”
“Yeah. You don’t have to sound like one though.”
Chapter 21
Notes:
I seem to be on a trend of writing longer and longer chapters recently. I once heard some writing advice where they said not to start a new chapter until something important changed - something you could not move forward without - so that's how I try and gauge when I finish a chapter. We're starting to gather the reasons for Lucy to have purpose in this new world she finds herself in. The new plot arc has begun 😉
Chapter Text
With breakfast – and conversations – out of the way, Lucy was anxious to get back to the store. It was Monday morning after all; she still had a job to do. One for which she was very late.
Between the three of them, it was decided that Geroge would walk with her back to Arif’s and Lockwood would follow them at a distance in his bird form. For the sake of their story to DSRAC, George would take credit for helping her recover – which was true – and she’d say she had not quite seen who had saved her. It was believable enough with the vivid description of her state George was able to conjure up.
When they got near the store, they noticed a solid black unmarked police car parked right in front. George both sighed audibly and relaxed visibly when he saw it. “I figured Barnes was going to come himself,” he explained. “It’s both good news and bad news. He’s too shrewd not to smell something fishy going on – but he also won’t ask too many questions as long as everybody is alright.”
The boys had also explained that no matter what, DSRAC was going to take her in for a medical checkup. It was standard procedure for survivors of a vampire attack. When she pointed out that it had not actually been the vampire who really did anything to her, they told her it would not matter. Especially not to Barnes.
George pushed open the door for her and the little bell over it gave its tinkling ring. Laura was behind the counter looking frazzled, shifting papers about anxiously in a way Lucy had never seen her do before. At the sound of the bell, Luara glanced up, then went back to grimacing at her papers. It was a solid second before she froze in place, then shot up out of her seat with her hands coming to cover her mouth as she looked back at them.
“Oh my, Lucy!” she stuttered, “ARIF! GET IN HERE NOW!”
George barely had time to clear the way as Luara came barrelling out from behind the counter and crushed Lucy to her chest in a fierce embrace. “Lucy dear, where have you been? We’ve been so worried. When I arrived this morning and found out from Arif that you weren’t here –”
“What’s all the fuss ab – Lucy!” gasped Arif as he emerged from the back room. He too came charging forward and nearly crushed her in a hug when Laura surrendered her embrace to him.
Dazedly, Lucy returned it, allowing their fussing to glide over her head. She of course knew they would have realized she was missing. Still, she had not expected for them to be this frantic about it. Her heart swelled in her chest as she hugged Arif back tighter.
“Wherever have you been Lucy?” asked Arif as he finally pulled back to look her over.
“I’d quite like to know the answer to that myself.” Everyone turned to look at Inspector Barnes standing rigidly in the middle of the aisle, watching them. His eyes flicked past Lucy to take in George standing off to the side of the heartfelt reunions. “And how Karim came to be involved.”
George shot an annoyed look at Barnes under the emotionless stare the Inspector was giving him.
Lucy suddenly felt nervous in front of the Barnes. “Um, well…I was…”
“Sir,” interrupted Wade from Barnes’ shoulder, “Perhaps we should move this conversation to the office in the back room. Give Mr. Arif his shop back?”
“Yes, alright,” he conceded. “Miss Carlyle, Karim, if you would follow me.” He turned on his heel and stalked away without even waiting for them to nod in acknowledgement.
“Inspector, if I could –” started Arif.
“Mr. Arif,” called Barnes as he stopped and turned to look at the older man. “I do appreciate the promptness in your action on Miss Carlyle’s behalf. Unfortunately, I have to remind you that you have no familial relation to Miss Carlyle, and I cannot, therefore, allow your inclusion in the conversation I must have with her. All I can offer you is my assurance that her safety is our highest priority.”
Arif looked like he wanted to argue the point, but deflated in the face of the stern Inspector. He pulled her into another quick hug. “I don’t know what happened last night to you, little missy,” he whispered in her ear, “But I’m glad to see you here again safe. Just know that if something is wrong, I’m more than willing to help you too, ok?”
“Ok,” she sniffed, trying to hold in her feelings. She did not want to start bawling her eyes out in the middle of the shop because she was overwhelmed by Arif’s care for her. At this point though, it was kind of a near thing.
Arif pulled back and patted her on the shoulder as he went. “Don’t worry about work today either, little missy,” he said in his normal tone. “Take whatever time you need today, alright?”
She only managed to nod in answer – Wade had come up and was ushering both her and George towards the back room now.
Once everyone was safely locked away in Arif’s office, Barnes turned to face them with his arms folded. “What happened?” he demanded in the same even tone he always spoke in.
“Well, I was…I had to go out and get something I needed yesterday,” fumbled Lucy. She felt all out of sorts. She could not read Barnes at all – she had no idea if he was relieved she was alright, angry that she’d disappeared, or suspicious of where on earth she had gone. “I ended up in a part of town I wasn’t familiar with before I found what I needed.”
Barnes nodded to show he understood, but made no other facial expression. Wade watched the proceedings from the corner of the room like a grim-faced garden gnome. George made to interject, but a sharp look from Barnes forestalled him from actually saying anything. “I’ll get to you Karim, don’t you worry,” grumbled Barnes. He then looked back to her expectantly.
“When I was making my way back, I noticed one of the vans you’d sent to follow me parked on the street ahead,” she continued nervously. “Something just…felt wrong. But then there was a guy trying to grab me, so I ran, and the DSRAC van pulled up, and an officer jumped out, and I jumped into the van – but it wasn’t an officer, and there was a pile of blankets in there – but it wasn’t blankets, because there was a hand and –”
Barnes now motioned to stop her from going any further. She was breathing heavily now, fighting back tears. She had…forgotten…how awful everything had been in the craziness of finding out that Lockwood was a vampire. But now it was all coming back, and it was hard to breath all of a sudden.
She curled into herself and tried to regain some semblance of control.
“Miss Carlyle,” called Barnes in the softest voice she had ever heard from him. “I need you to breath, alright? You are not in any trouble.”
“Am I allowed to talk now?” called George petulantly from the other chair.
She shot a questioning look at him for it. But now everyone’s focus was on him, and she felt that squeezing breathless feeling ease just a bit.
“Fine. Maybe you can explain to me how Carlyle found herself in your company when she was kidnapped by a pair of vampire servants,” snapped Barnes.
George rolled his eyes at Barnes for the not-veiled-at-all accusation. “You remember that friend with magic I said was who gave me the vampire venom I managed to synthesize an antidote from?” asked Geroge.
Barnes gave him a more annoyed look than usual. “What about them?”
George shrugged. “They showed up at my place with Lucy unconscious last night – said she needed my help with sever magical exhaustion.”
Barnes cast his eyes skyward, as if praying for the patience to deal with them right now. “How would she have exhausted her magic?” growled Barnes.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by an instinctual backlash of magic to protect herself?” snarked George. “However it happened, she was in bad shape when they brought her to me. Lucy needed help, and we couldn’t waste time running to DSRAC headquarters, so I helped her.”
“And where is this ‘friend’ now?”
“Don’t know. Long gone – they left after we managed to calm Lucy’s seizure from the healing runes I’d used,” answered George.
That last comment had caught Barnes’ attention like nothing else had. He glared at George, looking ready to wring his neck, or spit fire any second now. “I’m sorry, her seizure!? What runes did you use!?”
Geroge glared back for a second before producing a pad of paper and pen from somewhere. He quickly wrote out the runes she recognized, tore off the sheet and handed it to Barnes. “There; the standard runes for treating extreme magical exhaustion in someone who’s magic is tied to their physical wellbeing. Lucy started seizing the second the last rune – that one there I drew on her neck – was finished. It lasted exactly 43 seconds before stopping. I counted.”
Barnes looked over the sheet in his hands and sighed. “Fine,” he allowed, “I can’t fault your runic knowledge – though I’d dearly like to.” Barned turned his attention back to her then. “Miss Carlyle, I know it must be difficult for you, but is there anything else you can tell us about what happened to you?”
“I don’t,” the stuttered, “What do you want to know?” In the time Barnes was grilling George, she had at least managed to get her control back. She was not on the verge of bursting into tears any more, so that was…better.
“Do you remember where you were taken, what your assailants looked like?” prompted Barnes. He had dropped the softer tone of before, and was back to blank-stone speak again.
“I have no idea,” she mumbled, “They…drugged me once they got me into the van…there was…the room looked like a doctor’s office – but it wasn’t, it felt wrong, and then it felt like lightning, it even smelled like ozone for a second. And then they were…they strapped me down to a table…and they took some of my blood…but then…someone…broke in and knocked them out, and…I don’t really remember much after that until I woke up on Geroge’s sitting room couch.” Her story was halting and fractional. When they sat in Portland Row’s pleasant sitting room and plotted how she would be able to tell her story – sans Lockwood’s involvement – she had not realized how hard it would be to actually say what had happened. She was rattled more deeply than even the mill had made her, and that was saying something. “I recognized both their voices from the dream I told you about though.”
She fidgeted nervously with everyone still watching her. Both Barnes and Wade were unreadable as ever. George was giving her that calculating look of his again. She was starting to really hate that look on his face.
“You looked anxious when you noticed me holding the first aid kit,” commented George into the silence. “You wouldn’t calm down until I put it aside and stepped away from it. They had medical equipment set up where they had you…you felt like it was more of the same, when you woke up and saw me.”
He was not asking a question. He was stating a fact. She blinked at him through her bangs, feeling raw and exposed.
“I guess it was a good thing we didn’t take you to DSRAC,” mused Geroge, almost as if to himself. “Waking up in a standard hospital setting would probably have only served to retraumatize you.”
A heavy sigh broke the tension in the room, and they both focused back on Barnes. “Thank you for telling us this, Miss Carlyle,” he said. “As much as I don’t like the recklessness of Karim’s mystery friend, I can’t fault the person for being willing to step in and help you when you needed it. Especially as it sounds like there wasn’t actually a vampire at the place. And while I sympathize with your trepidation regarding medical attention after your ordeal – I still must inform you that DSRAC regulations require for you to be assessed by one of our physicians after an attack such as this.”
“But it wasn’t even –”
“Weather there was a vampire directly involved or not, the fact remains the same. In a span of less than 14 hours you were drugged into unconsciousness, drained of heaven only knows how much blood, and experienced such an acute case of magical exhaustion that you seized for almost a full minute when helped with healing runes. This is not a negotiation. You are going to see a doctor.”
…
Though she had tried to kick up a fuss – she was fine, thank you very much – she realized the battle was lost when Geroge accidentally-on-purpose mentioned some aspects of what had happed withing hearing range of Laura. Laura, of course, had then rushed to tell Arif, and she could not very well snub him after everything he had done for her. Being outvoted by absolutely everyone else in the room as very not fun.
The ride to DSRAC headquarters was blessedly uneventful. George had been required to come with them so he could give Barnes his official statement. While they were in the car, Lucy caught sight of bird-Lockwood following them from much higher up than he usually was. Seeing him still there – despite the dangers she now knew he risked with DSRAC so close – settled something deep in her magic.
All-in-all, though she was horribly unsettled the whole time, the medical checkup was not so bad. Dr. Bowman was as pleasant, professional and attentive as he was the last time she had seen him. “I certainly hope you’re not going to make a habit of these visits dear,” he remarked once they were finished.
He checked all her vitals in the normal way. He then asked her to lie down and close her eyes and proceeded with what he explained was like a health check on her magic. It turned out, Dr. Bowman was a magical himself, who’s abilities predictably lay in healing. He explained what he was going to do before he started, and how it would feel. She did not like the feeling of someone poking and prodding at her magic the same way they had her physical body. It felt invasive in a wholly new way she was utterly unprepared for. But it had not taken long, and then Dr. Bowman happily pronounced her to be in good health.
When Dr. Bowman left to give his report to Barnes, she heard him run into Geroge outside the door and commend him on his work with the healing runes. “Very astute of you to have seen that her sever reaction to magical exhaustion was a likely indicator of physical reliance,” she heard him praise. “The normal runes would not have worked nearly so well for her, and you’d likely have needed to call DSRAC to your house to get her the help she’d really needed.”
It actually ended up being another quiet point in favour of her keeping Lockwood’s secrets – he had been the one to realize that about her magic, not George.
“Bowman gave you a clean bill of health then?” called George as he came into the exam room.
She nodded from her place on the exam table while he went to sit in what had been Dr. Bowman’s chair up to that point. “Am I going to be allowed to leave at some point soon?” she asked petulantly.
Geroge snorted. “Probably. But if you think this is bad, you should see what they’re like when a vampire actually feeds on you.”
Lucy suddenly looked at him, startled. “You’ve been…?”
“Yeah,” breathed George. “Remember how I told you I’d accidentally met with a vampire before I even knew they existed? He managed to bite me before Barnes – or maybe Wade, or both of them, I don’t really know – could shoot and kill him. His fangs were still in my neck when he exploded into dust. I ended up with some of it in the punctures – they had to flush them out, and that was not pleasant. They didn’t let me go for days.”
Lucy just gave him a horrified look. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed, “Did you say he exploded into dust!?”
George gave her the calculating look again. She resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Vampires don’t leave behind a body when they are killed,” he explained patiently. “There is really no other way to explain it – they just, burst into a cloud of dust when you piece their heart.”
“But that’s…that’s awful!” she shrieked. “Aren’t they victims too? That’s what you said – that someone else who’s already a vampire has to purposefully kill you with their blood to make you into a vampire. If you’re a vampire and someone kills you, you just become dust!?”
She and Geroge watched each other for a long moment. “I guess you’ve finally realized why I decided to help him,” he offered after a while.
She could not find anything to say to that.
Chapter 22
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Geroge elected to stay at DSRAC headquarters to do some research. That meant Lucy found herself alone once again in a car with Wade heading back to the store once Barnes finally signed off on her release. She watched bird-Lockwood keep pace from overhead the whole ride back. Wade did not speak, and she did not try to ask any questions.
Arif welcomed her back happily with a spread of all her favourite pastries. Laura had taken over deliveries for the day, so she was still out. “Are you alright Lucy?” asked Arif once she was sitting down with her spoils.
“Yeah,” she said after swallowing her last mouthful. “I’m ok. How much did you manage to find out from Barnes?”
“Practically nothing,” he grumbled. “I do wonder; what’s really going on Lucy? Why is it that the one time you wander further than the next street over, you get abducted? Are there…people from wherever your home was before that are looking to hurt you?”
She dropped the latest icing-covered scone back to her plate and stared at it for a moment. “No, that’s…not what happened,” she mumbled.
She did not know how much she was allowed to tell people about DSRAC and the secrets it dealt with. But no one had outright told her not to say anything to anyone. Probably mostly because a lot of people would not believe her. But if Arif was noticing something strange going on…surely, she would not get in trouble for telling him at least a little? “Do…this is going to sound insane, but, do you believe in magic?” she asked.
Arif gazed steadily at her for a long time. “I suppose that might depend on what you say next.”
She took a deep breath, and took the plunge. “If, hypothetically speaking, magic was real, and there were supernatural creatures that wanted to…eat magic…and a secret division of the police dedicated to protecting people from said creatures; would you believe that?”
Arif did not answer immediately. He looked like he was weighing his words very carefully. “If such things were true,” drawled the older man, “And they had something to do with your safety Lucy, I could be persuaded to believe it.”
“Ok.”
“Ok,” echoed Arif. “You don’t know if you’re really allowed to have told me even that much, do you?” he asked after a beat.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well then,” he said briskly. “I guess that means I won’t be asking any more questions about it. Just you stay safe, alright Lucy?”
“I can do that, I think.”
…
Once she managed to assuage Arif’s worries about her wellbeing, she was stationed on the stool at the register for the rest of the day. Laura had come back to find her trying to sneak away to help pull the latest batch of pastries out of the oven for Arif who was on the floor helping a customer. She received a very stern talking-to for that, and had been set back on the stool and told not to move by everyone present.
Once the shop closed for the day, she asked Arif to wait a second and dashed up to her room to dig out the drawing she had been doing of the park. Shyly, she handed it to him, thanking him for all the care he’d shown her. He left her with another long hug, declaring that he loved it the second he realized what it was – and that she had done it herself.
When she made to lock the backdoor of the store, she once again found bird-Lockwood tapping on the glass. By the time she opened it, he was back to being a person again.
“I believe we made a deal – a test in exchange for your silence on my nature?” drawled Lockwood in a forced sort of calm as she stepped back to let him in.
“You didn’t have to come tonight. Didn’t you stay up watching me all last night, and today?” she asked.
He gave her a soft, thin-lipped smile. “I don’t actually need sleep in the same way ordinary people do. While you were in DSRAC, I went hunting. I’m fine. And I was not about to leave you without protection with what happened last night.”
She couldn’t help but wonder what his smiles might look like if he felt able to do it properly. She also pointedly did not ask what he had hunted for. He had said he did not feed on people – that was all she wanted to know about it.
“Ok, well, it’s this way,” she said. She suddenly felt very self-conscious as she led Lockwood up the rickety little staircase. Her room above the store was nothing to write home about – not that anyone back there would really care where she was living anyway – but it was still hers. She was very grateful to Arif for offering it to her, and she did not want any judgement about it. She stopped once she reached the landing in front of her door.
“Ok,” she said timidly, “When those vampire-followers were here, they couldn’t even get the door open…so I’ll go inside, and close the door, and we’ll see if you can open it?” She sounded like she was asking permission for this as much as she was telling him what they were going to do.
“How ever you want to do this is fine,” he answered.
“Ok,” she said. She seemed to be saying that a lot tonight. It was only now that she was here, did she realize she actually really, really wanted Lockwood to pass her test. The warnings of her magic had never once gone off in his presence, and she had felt what it was like when he was not around. She had also seen by now what it was he could really do to protect her, if that was what he actually wanted with her. She opened her door, walked through, closed it, then stepped away and quietly crossed her fingers behind her back and waited.
For a long second she stood there, and it felt like an eternity. What would she do if Lockwood could not pass the threshold? She did not think she could actually turn him over to DSRAC, not after George had told her what happens when a vampire dies. It was one thing that DSRAC killed vampires. It was something completely different that they essentially obliterated them from existence. It did not sit right in her gut – she did not like it.
The seconds began to stretch into an eternity as she waited. But then the dented old door handle turned, the door swung open, and Lockwood stepped into the room. She let out the breath she had not realized she was holding.
Lockwood gave her another of his close-lipped soft smiles. “Is that the proof you were looking for then Lucy?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” she breathed in relief, “Yeah, it was.”
Nobody moved for a heartbeat.
“Is that…is the offer to come live at Portland Row still open?” she asked.
Lockwood blinked at her, startled. “If you want it to be, then yes. Absolutely.”
She took a deep breath to steel herself for what would come next. “Ok. Then I think…I think I’d like that.”
Notes:
Am I the only one feeling all the warm and fuzzies now? I believe I may have decided to drown everyone in fluff, as a treat. 😁
Chapter 23
Notes:
DRUMROLL EVERYBODY PLEASE,
Announcer: I would like to present to you, ladies and gentleman, the moment you have all ben waiting for...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucy felt lighter now that she had finally made her decision. Even when she was furious with Lockwood, she had still been aware that she would eventually need to make a change. Being Arif’s delivery girl left her much too exposed – plain and simple as that. Recent experiences within consideration, she now realized that it needed to be a question of what she did not when – because when would have been before she got caught by psychotic vampire enthusiasts, not after.
They both drifted back down to the little employee kitchen as they had for every other such visit – Lucy making herself something to eat, then sitting at the table to talk with Lockwood.
“I was wondering,” she started once she was settled with her food, “If there were any rules about what and who you could tell about…everything I guess.”
“Did the Inspector not explain that?” asked Lockwood, a little surprised.
She gave him a sheepish sort of smile. “I…might have seen some heading about rules in one of the forms he sent to me…and I might have, not bothered to read it?”
He blinked at her for a moment before throwing his head back and letting out a bark of laughter. “I can’t say I blame you for that. Even reading that headline is more than I would have done in your shoes.”
She could not help the twitch of a smile forming herself. “So, what are the rules?”
“The only actual laws to consider with DSRAC is that it’s illegal to help vampires do terrible things, and to trade in dangerous magical artifacts. They’re not able to force through laws in the usual sense because that would also leave a record that they exist. A large part of why DSRAC is able to help any magicals at all is that they remain relatively illusive. Otherwise, the older and larger covens would have absolutely wiped them out, or infiltrated their ranks a long time ago.”
“Then it doesn’t matter if you tell people about what’s going on?” she prompted.
“You won’t get in any genuine trouble for blabbing,” he answered. “But the general consensus is that you should talk to as few people as you can – and be fully honest about the truth with even less. If there is someone you know who is getting genuinely suspicious or concerned, it’s fine to tell them. It’s probably worth noting that unless the person is a magical themselves, it’s usually safer for them the less they know.”
She was quite while she digested that, eating her dinner.
“I take it someone was starting to get suspicious?”
“Yeah,” she said as she swallowed her last bite. “Arif’s been really kind – he was getting worried, especially after today. I didn’t know how much I was allowed to tell him, so I kind of…hypothetically asked him if he would believe what was going on if it were true.”
“And what did he say to that?” he asked.
Lucy smiled at her empty bowl, still feeling somewhat warmed by Arif’s care. “That if it hypothetically had something to do with my safety, he’d believe it.”
“Hmm,” mused Lockwood thoughtfully. “In that case, I should figure out a way to lay permanent claim to the street so no other vampires bother him either.”
Lucy suddenly shot Lockwood a searching look. “George mentioned you did something to ward off other vampires before,” she challenged.
Lockwood snapped out of his pensive state and looked back at her. He did not…blanch…exactly. But it was perhaps the closest vampire equivalent. “If you never mention what George implied with his terrible example on that phone call again, it will still be too soon to speak of it,” he said looking mortified.
She could not help herself from bursting out into cackles at Lockwood’s obvious discomfiture. “Well then, what did you really do? And why can’t you ‘claim the street’, as you say?” she asked, still giggling.
“I took vials of my venom and spread it around the store and along some of your more traveled delivery routes,” came the immediate answer. He was clearly hoping to move on past this conversation as quickly as possible. “Also, thank you for reminding me; I have to set fire to George’s kitchen in retaliation for that.”
She was shaking fit to burst from her repressed laughter at the look on Lockwood’s face. “I don’t think burning the house down is an appropriate response here Lockwood.”
“I won’t burn it down,” he drawled. “I just plan on singing the kitchen a bit.” Lockwood crossed his arms over his chest and lounged, playing the part of the perfect at-ease gentleman, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement as she completely lost it.
“Alright – now explain why you can’t claim the street,” she demanded once her mirth started to subside. She wiped the tears that had sprung up from her laughter away and focused back on Lockwood.
Lockwood however, seemed to have just had all laughter blown out the door. “It’s not that I can’t lay claim to the territory,” he mumbled, “It’s that I refuse to.”
She cocked her head at him. “But…why? If you can protect people that way, wouldn’t it be better?”
He gave her a strained grimace. “It wouldn’t. The way a vampire usually claims territory is by feeding on, but leaving alive most if not all the people in the area they want to claim. Under normal circumstances, vampire venom stays in the system for several days, so it leaves your scent around where other vampires can notice it. If you claim someone, other vampires will instinctively have to challenge you directly before they do anything else, should they want that individual for themselves.”
She did not respond right away. She was thinking back on what had happened in that awful room. “He said you had no claim to me,” she whispered.
Her quiet voice caught Lockwood’s attention regardless of the softness of her tone. “What?”
“Back…in that room…that other vampire. He said you had no claim to me, and you told him you could tell he didn’t have one on me either.”
Lockwood let out a sigh as he realized what she was referring to. “Yes, I did say that,” he agreed. “He hadn’t bitten you, so there was no venom in your system and no scent on you other than your own.”
“Would it…would it have made a difference if he had?” she asked timidly.
“Not unless he’d also fed on the other two humans that were there too,” he placated. “If that were the case, I would have had to overpower him before I could have the two humans. Which means I would not have been able to deal with the guard outside the door first like I did.”
“Does just spreading your venom around work the same then?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I had hoped it might. It seems it breaks down too fast in the open air and doesn’t last nearly as long.”
“I have one other question,” she declared.
“Yes?”
“How is it your teeth look normal right now?” she blurted before she could second guess herself.
“The fangs are retractable. And I don’t actively sharpen them like most vampires do.”
…
After that, she’d offered to let Lockwood stay inside rather than sending him back out onto the street for the night again. He politely declined her offer. “It’s really better if I keep watch from outside,” he explained. “This building is not where I’ve made my home, so it does not carry my scent claim. And standing guard in here where other vampires can neither see nor scent me will not offer you any protection. If I’m outside, they will know that I am guarding the area to make a claim, and will challenge me before they ever make a play at you.”
“Wait,” she said, pausing as she made to clear away her dishes. “You said you’d have to claim territory by feeding on people. How did you claim your house?” She was eyeing him shrewdly now.
Seeing her look, he moved quickly to explain. “Feeding on people to spread your venom and scent is how you claim additional territory,” he rushed to reassure her. “It’s not necessary to do that for the place you live. I’ve found that the trance-like state that passes for sleeping for me now spreads my scent effectively to claim my immediate surroundings. It takes months to build up, but all you have to do is live in one place for a while.”
She relaxed again at his explanation. She had seen nothing in his eyes to tell her he was lying or making something up just so she was happy.
“How did you know I’ve claimed the house?” he asked after a moment.
She thought about it as she washed her dishes. In the end she shrugged. “I…don’t think I really knew,” she mused, “It’s just that – I noticed the warnings my magic always sends me went away when I was near your house. I actually first noticed you as a bird because of the same feeling coming up when I was elsewhere. That time I called George and demanded answers, I’d realized you’d done something to make the store safer because my magic wasn’t giving me as strong a sense of danger as it had been.”
She dutifully avoided the searching look Lockwood sent her at the end of her explanation. She still did not understand why her magic was just fine whenever Lockwood was around. You would think it would still send warning signals, since he is still a vampire. But it never had. Even when she had not trusted Lockwood, her magic seemed to have. She did not know why.
“I…can’t imagine why that would be the case for you,” he mused, “I’ve helped many other magicals through the years, and none of them ever had a similar experience. At least, not that they ever told me.”
They were both quiet after that, until Lockwood bid her goodnight and left to patrol the perimeter for the night. She silently washed the rest of the dishes, wishing she knew more about magic – wishing she could explain her own experience to herself. Maybe she would ask George if he had any ideas. Maybe she should just ask him to teach her about magic when she moved in.
…
The night was uneventful once again with Lockwood standing guard outside. It turned out that she was still grounded at the register today too. It at least meant she had plenty of time to talk to Arif about quitting her job and moving out. He seemed more reluctant to let her out of his sight than he did to lose her as a delivery girl.
“Where will you be going, little missy?” he asked with no small amount of concern.
She decided that at least part of the real truth was the best thing to give him now. “You know George’s mystery roommate?” she asked.
Arif nodded, looking at her questioningly.
“He was the one to rescue me from the people that took me the other night,” she admitted.
Arif looked thoughtful for a while after that. “You trust them then?” he eventually asked.
“Yeah,” she admitted a little wistfully. “I think I do. The two of them offered to put me up for a place to stay when they realized bad things might happen to me. I’ve been…getting to know them. I think they’ve started to grow on me. Like a fungus.”
Arif had laughed himself silly at that. When he was finally able to get his breath back, he wished her happiness and declared that she would have no problems keeping the boys in check once she got there. Then they both laughed themselves silly. Then Laura returned from a delivery to find them and worried after their collective sanity. It ended up being a fun day despite her grounding.
…
Arif started looking for someone to replace her the next day. It was also officially decided by everyone – except her – that there would be no more deliveries for Lucy Carlyle. She was permanently relegated to register duty. It may have been boring sporadically when there were no customers, but it was not so bad.
When she moaned about it on the phone to George, he had done nothing other than point out all the reasons it was a good idea. “Thanks so much for your sympathy George,” she’d snarked playfully. “See if I warn you about Lockwood’s plan for payback about your venom misdirect.”
“ ‘Venom misdirect’? What on earth is that supposed to –” CLICK.
When Lockwood came to talk before standing guard that night, he was a much more sympathetic confidant – even though she knew he was of the same opinion on the whole thing as George. When she told him about her dig at Geroge on the phone, he slapped his hands over his mouth and laughed himself hoarse. “I’ll be sure to wait till you move in before I strike,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”
…
On Thursday Arif interviewed a few people. The lucky winner started Friday the same place she had – with Arif and the ovens in the back. Saturday saw Lucy teaching the new girl the ropes of the rest of the store and how to work the system. Sunday morning rolled in and found her few possessions all packed away in the same bag from when she first came to London.
To her surprise, both Arif and Luara were downstairs when she descended from her little room for the last time to say goodbye. Laura extracted assurances that she would visit whenever she could, and Arif wished her well and to stay safe.
The white-breasted bird perched across the street waiting for her when she finally came out of the store. Bird-Lockwood followed her as she made her way to Portland Row – to her new home. She thought it looked like it was going to be a good one – hopefully nice and safe and calm, where nothing bad would happen.
Notes:
"hopefully nice and safe and calm, where nothing bad would happen." :P
*maniacal cackling sounds in the background while lightning strikes*
Chapter 24
Notes:
I'm not sure, but I might have gone a little OOC with Lockwood on this one, but considering he's had so long to live with the things in his life that have gone horribly, I don't think it too out of character for him to say these things, especially since there is a legitimate risk involved.
Chapter Text
George was waiting to let her in when she got to the house. Bird-Lockwood slipped through the door before it was closed behind her, and was back to looking like a human by the time she was done taking her shoes off.
“How does that work?” she asked suddenly when she noticed him. Now that she was thinking about it, she had never been paying enough attention to see the exact moment Lockwood transformed from bird to human.
Lockwood cocked his head at her. “How does what work?” he asked.
“When you transform,” the said, “Your…well, your still wearing…clothes…how does that work when you transform into a bird, then back? The bird doesn’t wear the clothes, and they don’t get left behind, otherwise you wouldn’t…you know…have them.” She snapped her mouth shut after her little rant feeling self-conscious.
“Clothing influences the outward colours of feathers, fur or skin when shapeshifters turn,” called George from the sitting room he had already retreated to. “I could explain the exact mechanics of how it’s supposed to work, but I don’t think you really care that much.”
“I probably don’t,” she conceded. “Does that mean that if you wore a neon green shirt when you transformed, you’d be a neon green bird?”
She was starting to get funny ideas about this now. Something to keep in mind if ever Lockwood really annoyed her. He watched her warily now, probably sensing her plotting. “It would,” he hedged, “Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious,” she said. She gave him what was probably an unconvincing innocent smile. “You know, you’d be less conspicuous as a bird if you wore all black.”
“As a vampire, I am offended by how cliché that would be.”
…
After that, Lockwood took the initiative and showed her where everything was in the house. The full bathroom, and his and George’s rooms. Then he led her down past the library, and on to the kitchen where Geroge was already cooking something for lunch. It was a quaint little space that opened onto the back garden. The tablecloth was covered in scribbles and scrawls. What looked like a complicated chemical diagram dominated the bottom left corner of it.
“We call this the ‘thinking cloth’,” explained Lockwood with a close-lipped smile. “We use it to jot down memos, notes, trains of thought – it’s a very useful tool.”
“ – and when Lockwood’s an idiot and we’re not speaking to each other, it’s great for exchanging insults too,” called Geroge over his shoulder.
“Ah,” said Lucy as she examined the cloth. “How often does that happen?”
“Almost never,” came Lockwood’s cherry reply.
She pushed a butter dish out of the way of very sketchy drawing of what might have been Lockwood. She was not quite sure, since it seemed to have been intended to be unflattering. Just above it were the words “Lockwood is a dick” in a messy scrawl.
“Now then,” called Lockwood, drawing her attention away from the little caricature. “There’s still more to see.”
He stood next to what was a hidden cupboard door that opened onto a winding iron spiral staircase leading downward. At the bottom was a wide-open room, complete with a couple pillars dotted about and a second space separated by what looked like a very heavy old wooden door. The main room had rubberized mats covering the floor and one wall was filled with a full-on weapons rack. Hanging were all manner of different types, styles and lengths of swords. Some of them even looked to be exotic designs from other places in the world.
“Down here is the exercise room,” explained Lockwood. “George uses the back section for his experiments. He’s a fervent scholar in runic magic.”
“Why do you have your own armoury?” she asked, looking at the wall of weapons.
Lockwood gave a soft laugh. “Old habits, I suppose,” he sighed. “My family were wealthy landowners. I trained to be an expert swordsman. I still enjoy it as sport, even if that’s really all it is these days. Sometimes the more aware Covenist vampires will still call for a challenge in a good old-fashioned sword dual if they get offended.”
She wandered about, taking a closer look at some of the blade styles she had never seen before. She froze for a second when she looked into the second room.
“Um, why does it look like someone threw acid around inside this room?” she asked a little nervously.
“Geroge,” offered Lockwood with a roll of his eyes. “Sometimes his experiments get a little dangerous. If I actually still had to breath, that particular day would have ended much worse for him. The Inspector was not best pleased with him either when he had to come and cover up the whole ordeal by telling everyone there was a gas explosion from a leaking connection. That rooms reinforced with iron and silver bands, as well as protection runes to contain magic now. If anything like that ever happens again, we can just close the door and the room will work to neutralize whatever he did.”
She stared at him flabbergasted for a long time. “And he has the gall to get mad at you for doing stupid things!?” she squeaked.
Lockwood gave her a delighted wink before beckoning her to follow him again.
On the second landing up from the front door, he stopped and turned to her. “I…have to ask you not to go in this room,” he said softly, indicating the door behind him he had not explained earlier. His enthusiasm somewhat dimmed now that they stood here.
“Why?” she asked, “What’s in there?”
He let out a frustrated breath while avoiding her eye. “I believe our initial deal for you’re moving in was to help George out with his work,” he hedged.
“Yeah. That was the plan.”
He seemed to fidget nervously. “Is that still your intention?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t want to impose any more than I already am,” she answered.
“Your not imposing.”
“Still,” she insisted. “I can’t expect either of you to just pay my way forever. I want to contribute.”
He nodded, still without looking at her. “Then I will explain what is in there,” he asserted. “I just…have to work up to doing it. You’ll need to know eventually, if your helping George. For now, just, please leave it closed. It wouldn’t be safe for you in there.”
She watched him for a long time. His shoulders were hunched and tense, his eyes clouded. “You mentioned one night when we were talking,” she began, “That there were personal things I should know about you, and what you’ve been doing with George. You said that if I moved in, you’d explain them.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“You weren’t just talking about you being a vampire, were you?” she asked. “You were also talking about whatever is behind that door.”
He finally looked back up and met her eye. “Yes,” was his only answer for a long moment. Then he heaved a great sigh. “I’ll explain everything today, you have my word. I just…can’t right now. Not standing here.” He gazed at the door almost longingly for a second.
Shaking himself off, he returned abruptly to the enthusiasm he had shown before while they toured the house. “Come now,” he called, “There’s still one more thing for you to see.”
And with that he led her up to the attic room that was to be hers – complete, as they had originally said with its own little bathroom. Lockwood reasserted that the bathroom downstairs was available if she needed it. He did mention that would mean sharing with George, and he would not wish that on anyone. Then he left to allow her to settle in.
It was a definite step up from the room she had above Arif’s shop. That had been little more than a storeroom with barely space for walking and a tiny window pane. This was a nice space, that felt cozy and lived-in. The walls were half-height, meeting the sloping ceiling four or five feet above the floor. There was a large window – the frame carved on the inside with protection runes and the glass secured with what she suspected was silver wire mesh. It looked out down the street with a partial view of the community garden just over the way.
Of all the places she could have ended up in coming to London like she had, this was not so bad. In fact, it was actually quite nice.
…
Once she unpacked the few possessions she did have, she wandered down to explore around the house. She found George still working on lunch, and asked if he wanted any help. The resulting fiasco ended in her prompt banishment from the kitchen – George threatening her with disembowelment if she messed up his cooking. It was just as well. She had never really liked cooking anyway.
She retreated to the library where she found Lockwood reading a modern gossip magazine, of all things. She hovered in the doorway for a long moment, uncertain of what she wanted to do now.
“You can come in and sit down if you like,” called Lockwood without looking up from his magazine. “I swear I won’t bite.”
She grimaced a little uncomfortably at the joke and did not move. Maybe she was ok with being around Lockwood as a person. It seemed she was not yet quite alright with being around him as a vampire.
Lockwood looked up at her with a crease between his brows. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention,” he said.
She let out a breath and slowly walked into the room to an empty chair. The browning, dried-up left-over apple core on the seat she picked gave her a little pause before she placed it on a coaster sitting on the side table. “It’s…fine. I guess I’m just…not yet used to the fact that you could.”
He watched her with a wary sort of tension dancing across his shoulders. “Do I frighten you?” he asked softly.
She shook her head immediately. Lockwood’s shoulders lost a little of their strain. “No, you don’t frighten me,” she asserted. “I think it’s just that, the idea frightens me a little.”
He seemed to mull her words over for a moment before nodding. “I suppose that’s fair.” Silence stretched for a time between them. “I see you’ve been banished from the kitchen as well,” he commented in an effort to break the tense silence.
She looked at him a little funny. “How’d you figure that out?”
“I overheard you and George.”
“But…we were in another room, and we weren’t being yelling or anything,” she hedged.
Lockwood gave her a searching look. “How much do you remember from when we treated you after getting you away from your abductors?”
She scratched at her arm absentmindedly as the tried to recall. “I think most of it?” she asked more than told. “Things get kind of patchy towards the end.”
“Do you recall when I told you I could hear your heartbeat and breathing then?”
She thought back to that night and tried to place this information. “…I think I vaguely remember hearing you say something like that. Didn’t you say you could figure out my blood pressure by feeling for my pulse?”
Lockwood inclined his head in understanding. “Yes, I did. Vampires have heightened senses and abilities. If you were upstairs and I in the basement, you would not have to raise your voice very much, and I could still hear you if I was listening for it. You and George weren’t being loud by any means, but you weren’t trying to be quiet either. So I heard.”
“I guess that’s good to know,” she mused. It would mean that she would have to be careful if there was ever anything she wanted to keep to herself.
“If it helps you feel more comfortable,” continued Lockwood, “I usually try not to listen in. Voices are just more noticeable.”
“I can accept that,” she said.
“LUCH’S READY!” called George from the kitchen.
She vaguely wondered how loud George’s shout must have been to Lockwood when he managed to rattle even her eardrums.
…
George as it turned out, was a very good cook. Lunch was delicious, and she devoured it almost without stopping to breath. Lockwood had not come down with her – but then again, he did not eat the same food anyway. He did wonder down when she was mostly finished her plate and made himself a cup of tea.
“Can you eat normal food?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Both Geroge and Lockwood looked at her. “I can’t,” answered Lockwood. “The one small mercy I have is that I can still metabolize thinner liquids, so I’ve thankfully never been forced to give up tea.”
“If we’re talking about vampire things again,” cut in George, “Then we should talk about what we’ve been trying to do here for the last year.”
“Yes,” sighed Lockwood, “We do need to talk about that.”
She looked between the two of them as Lockwood sat down at the table – tea in hand. “You told me you were trying to replicate Lockwood’s cure,” she hedged.
“That is what we’ve been trying to do,” explained Lockwood, “But there…is a little more too it than that.”
George sat there watching him with his characteristic keen-eyed calculation. “Are you going to tell her the story, or do you need me to do it?” he asked.
Lockwood gazed into his cup of tea as if it held the answers to the universe. His fingers creaked a little at the strain from the strength of his hold on it. “I told you that I gained the ability to sense magic the same night the rest of my family died,” he began. “That…was also the same night I became a vampire.”
She did not interrupt as she watched him struggle with this story.
“What I did not mention was that…my sister…she was turned that same night too,” whispered Lockwood.
“They both became Rampagers,” explained George when Lockwood seemed to struggle with saying any more. “Rampagers don’t last very long,” he continued. “They draw too much attention, and either ordinary people end up killing them, or Covenist vampires work to kill them. Lockwood was a Rampager for 40 years before he was captured by a Covenist vampire who liked to use lesser vampires in experiments to try and increase his own power. He was only able to last that long because for some reason, once turned, he and his sister stayed together as their own kind of coven. Normal Rampager behaviour means hunting alone – but they stayed together.”
“What does this have to do with what’s in the room?” she asked. It was a little confusing, what all this meant. It was fascinating in a kind of morbid way, she guessed. But at the same time, it was clearly a sore spot for Lockwood, and with good reason.
“The magical who restored my soul to me was killed very shortly after she did so. My sister…was not so lucky as I,” whispered Lockwood. “She stayed a Rampager, and I lost the only way I had to change that. I was…overwhelmed and confused by…everything…when my soul was returned to me. But I knew what a vampire was, and I knew I could not just let her go. I managed to escape with her while the Covenist who had captured us was…distracted. I eventually found a way to make sure she did not hurt anyone without hurting her – I…used my thrall to make her sleep. That was the first time I knowingly used it.”
“…You still have her,” she breathed, “That’s what’s in that room, isn’t it? Your sister.”
“Yes,”
“And that’s why you can’t go in there,” commented George. “If you or me went in there and accidentally woke her up, she’d kill us.”
“You’re looking for the cure, for her.”
Lockwood did not seem to be able to respond anymore. His muscles were strung taught as a bowstring. He refused to meet either of their eye. She thought about a terrifying face with empty – soulless – eyes. She thought about a human form that lunged at her with fangs bared, only to disappear into dust. She thought about all the people over the years who could have been turned into something awful, without ever wanting what they would get. She thought of Rampagers – victims who lost their mind to a savage beast.
“Alright,” she said forcefully. “I’ll help you save her. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”
George gave her an approving kind of smile. Lockwood finally dared to look at her again. She found herself facing a glassy kind of desperate hopefulness. “Thank you.”
Chapter 25
Notes:
Magic training! 😁
Chapter Text
After lunch George drifted off to his room to get in some more work for DSRAC. Lockwood made sure to let her know she could make use of anything she found in the house – outside of what Geroge had in his room – and left to work on his swordplay in the basement. It was apparently a favoured pastime of his. With nothing better to do at the moment, she wandered back to her room to collect her meager drawing supplies and set up shop in the sitting room.
She was three quarters of the way through a graphite sketch of Arif’s shop before George re-emerged from his room and came to sit down with her. “We should talk about what you’re going to do while you’re here,” he stated abruptly.
Carefully, she packed away her pencils and turned her attention to him. “I thought the deal was to help you with your work at DSRAC.”
“It was,” agreed Geroge. “But that’s not all we should talk about. It’s never a bad idea exactly to have more eyes on an issue. But I don’t think research is really something you’d enjoy doing.”
She did not argue this point – she knew it was true. “So what are you suggesting then?” she asked.
“First and foremost, we’ve got to get you trained in your magic,” he said. “Apart from anything else, it seems it’s strong enough for you to use it unconsciously in a reactive way. If you don’t actually train with it, you will keep having incidents of magical exhaustion like you did after Lockwood rescued you.”
She grimaced. “I’d like to avoid more of those if I could.”
He took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt as he nodded. “My thought’s exactly. I can help you train – help to guide you while you explore your talents. Personally, I’d consider that as help with my research. There’s only so much you can do with runes. It’d be interesting to see what general magic is capable of.”
“You want to…research me?” she asked a little self-consciously.
George replaced his glasses and eyed her shrewdly again. “After a fashion,” he conceded. “But that can’t happen until you can figure out how to start doing things purposefully. Hence why I suggest we set up magic lessons of some sort.”
…
“It would be a monumentally stupid idea to hand you a bunch of spells and tell you to ‘see what you can come up with’,” snarked George after her comment.
It was the next afternoon, and George had just returned from DSRAC for the day to start her first official magic lesson. It seemed they had differing ideas on what, exactly, constituted a lesson in magic.
“Isn’t magic supposed to have spells?” she countered, “How am I supposed to learn without that?”
“Spells are a way of using magic,” he sighed as he tried to get her to understand. “But magic itself if not spells. It’s energy, and a binding force in the universe. If you want to be able to use magic without passing out – or worse, as you’ve already found out – then you have to be able to find where it lives and flows inside you first.”
They were currently sitting cross-legged on the rubberized mats of the exercise room. George was sitting a few feet in front of her, and already looking as if he regretted every single one of his life choices leading up to this point.
“Well then, how do I do that?” she demanded.
Geroge stared at her in sullen silence, waiting. After a while she huffed, folding her arms. “Fine, I’ll stop talking,” she said mulishly.
“Thank you,” grumbled George. “It’s best if we start you with just finding and calling on your magic today,” he continued evenly. “Close your eyes and try to find the place inside you where your magic lives. It’ll feel like a pool of warmth, or a ball of static charge. Locate that feeling – wherever it is, and try pulling at it until you feel it spread a little. Don’t try to push any intentions or purpose into it – just call on it and let it sit in your body. Familiarize yourself with the sensations it gives you, and then let it go.”
She gave a curt nod and did as told. For a long time, she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for. But then she found something, like a flicker of awareness that was there and then gone inside herself. Furrowing her brow, she chased after the fleeting notion. She grabbed it and pulled herself along it like a guiding wire. It seemed to go on forever, a winding road through the trees meant specifically to be confusing. And then all of a sudden, it was like the wire was gone, along with the ground beneath her feet and she was drowning in a sloshing pool of warmth and tingling sensation.
She wrenched her eyes wide open with a gasp, and probably would have toppled over backwards if George was not in front of her holding her shoulders steady. She had no idea when he had even moved. She was breathing raggedly like she had just run a mile, yet she had not moved from where she sat.
“Deep breaths Lucy,” soothed George. “Calm down. That was good. Just calm down, alright?”
“My skin tingles,” she whispered, shaking a little in his hold.
He squeezed her shoulders briefly. It let her focus on something physical, and she managed to get her breathing back to normal. “I figured you’d have a reaction something like this,” admitted George. “That’s why I told you to find your magic and hold it to start with. Tell me what you felt?”
She mentally tried to shake off the tremors that were still zipping through her muscles. “It…I found…something…and I started following it. And then, it was like the floor fell out from under me. There was…it was warm…but there was so much. It was tingly.”
George moved back to give her space now that she had settled somewhat. “That was your magic,” he explained, “You dropped into it because you were focusing too narrowly. Yes, you need to focus to find it; but don’t go so far in that you abandon all your other senses, ok? Now, let’s try that again. Only this time, speak to me as you look for your magic – tell me what is happening and how it feels as you search.”
Feeling much more nervous now, she took a steadying breath before closing her eyes once again.
“Remember to talk to me this time Lucy,” called George before she could drop so fully into herself.
“…I can…there’s a flicker of something…I…don’t know how to explain it. It’s like…like it wants to point me in the right direction. I’m…trying to follow it.”
“Go slow,” she heard George caution, “Take your time. There is no rush.”
She took another deep breath and pressed after that flicker. “I…think I can see where it came from this time,” she breathed. “It’s like a pool…but it…sounds like a thunderstorm…or…lightning that’s almost frozen in time, but not quite.”
“That’s good Lucy,” called George. “Now dip your hands in the pool and pull some of the liquid out with your cupped hands.”
Another deep breath, and she plunged her hands into the pool as he said. She felt a wash of tingling run over her body from her head down to her toes. But it did not get any more intense than that as she held the precious little trickle in her cupped hands. “S’ tingles,” she whispered.
“Focus on your breathing Lucy,” instructed George. It sounded like he was farther away now, but she could still hear him. “Let the sensations wash over you for a few breaths, and then let them go.”
She did as he told her – breathing in, then out. In. And out. In, out. And then she let the trickle in her hands fall away and run back into the pool.
“Open your eyes now Lucy. Come back.”
With what felt like more effort than it should have, she managed to pry her eyes open and stare blearily back at George. “Hi,” she mumbled somewhat dizzily.
“That’s better,” commended George with a nod. His glasses flashed as he looked her over where she sat.
It felt like she was brimming with some unknown energy all of a sudden. She flexed her hands, her skin feeling pulled taught over something swollen she could not see.
“I think that’s all we’ll do today,” commented George as he watched her. “Are you alright?”
“I…think so?” It was more a question than an assurance of her state.
George regarded her for another moment before he got up to fetch something from a nearby table. She was still too focused on how her skin felt like it was holding in too much to notice him approach her again until he was kneeling in front of her.
“Give me your arm,” he ordered. “I’m going to draw a rune on you that will help settle the stimulation you’re feeling right now. You can wash it off in a few hours, ok?”
She blinked at him wordlessly as he carefully took her wrist and once again drew a rune on her skin with an oil pastel. When he finished the last line of the rune and pulled away, she found her skin felt normal again. “Thanks,” she breathed.
She was still unsteady on her feet when she stood up. George helped her up the stairs, through the kitchen and into the sitting room where he deposited her on the couch. She slumped bonelessly down. “Will it…always be like this?” she worried somewhat dazedly.
“No,” said George immediately. “You only feel the way you do right now because you’re not used to actually touching your magic. It’ll get easier the more you practice. For now, I think it’s best if you don’t try anything on your own. It’s still too overwhelming for you, and you need someone there who can pull you out if you get in too deep.”
“Ok.”
Once he was sure she was not about to pass out on him, he left her to rest on the couch with a promise that he’d come back to check on her a few times. Just to be sure she was alright. When he passed into the hall, she vaguely heard Lockwood, “The next time you train with her, use the warded room, and make sure the door is closed. She smelled…overpoweringly like magic.”
“Your worried others will take notice and come to investigate?” she heard George ask. “This is your home, isn’t that not allowed?”
“It isn’t,” stated Lockwood. “But that much magic might be enough of a draw to override some of the other rules of vampire behaviour.”
Chapter 26
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
At some point, she must have fallen asleep where George left her, because when she woke Lockwood was once again in the room reading a book. She could not recall when he had gotten there. It was so similar to the morning after her abduction; only this time, she did not look accusingly at him.
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” she asked.
Lockwood might not have been looking at her, but she had a sneaking suspicion he already knew she was awake long before she spoke. He did not even look up from his book when he responded. “Are you referring to being this exhausted after using magic, or waking up in the sitting room where I’ve decided to sit and read?”
She shot him an unamused glare. “Both. There’s a library, isn’t there? You could have sat in there to read – it’s kind of what libraries are for. And…is magic always going to be like this?”
He put down his book and turned to give her his full attention. “You’re only having this many problems with using your magic because of how old you are,” he explained. “If you had started training when you were young – perhaps at age 4 or 5 – you would not have experienced the same difficulties.”
“But why?” she worried, “Why would that have made a difference?”
“Magic grows and matures along with us,” he continued. “You would have had a lot less magic to worry about connecting to and taking control of if you had started as a child. And by the time you got to this point, you would have been much better prepared to handle the amount of magic you have now.” He watched her for a long second after that. “It makes me wonder; you have so much magic, it would have been obvious, even when you were very young. I can’t understand how you managed to so thoroughly slip through the cracks that DSRAC had no idea you existed until you came to London. They should have identified and started training you years ago.”
She blinked at him. It…was a fair point. If the whole point of DSRAC was to protect people from vampires – especially magicals, who were more sought after and therefore at greater risk – how had they missed her? “…I am from a really small town up north,” she hedged.
Lockwood shook his head emphatically. “If you were more like George, with only a small sliver of magic that would be an excuse. But that’s not the case. You have an almost staggering amount of magic. DSRAC should have known about you a long time ago. That they didn’t is…concerning.”
She shot him a startled look. “What do you mean?”
He rubbed his face tiredly. “If DSRAC could miss you, with how much magic you have, then how many others are they missing? It’s true that most vampires prefer to stay in large population centres – but not all of them. The oldest and largest coven in existence has its home base in the countryside. When you put those two things together, it doesn’t paint a very good picture.”
…
Magic practice with George was relegated to the warded room at the back of the basement from then on. They progressed at a pace that felt glacially slow, but George was cautious and was not willing to push any further. With how exhausted she felt after each session, she did not complain as much as she might have. After that first attempt, there were several days in a row where he would only let her cup some of her magic in her hands. Twice more she had ended up needing the healing rune to recover from the rush of magic she felt whenever they did that. The last few days, she had not needed it though. Yesterday she managed to hold her magic in her hands for a solid 10 minutes without feeling like her skin was suddenly stretched over too much flesh.
It also became apparent that George shared Lockwood’s concerns about how DSRAC could have missed her for so long. “I don’t like that they have no record of you from before London,” he explained with a pinched brow one day. “Barnes has been asking about your training – how your progressing, what kind of magic you have. He seemed more unhappy than usual when I told him.”
“Why would he be unhappy? It’s not like were doing anything dangerous, is it?” she worried.
George shrugged. “Barnes always seems unhappy,” he muttered. “That’s kind of his natural state of being.” An unfocused, contemplative looked clouded his face for a moment before he continued. “I think he’s worried about how you could have passed unnoticed too.”
He seemed to shake himself out of whatever musings were occupying him then. At which point, he demanded to know the name of the town she was from. She was so startled, she answered almost before she could think about it.
“Wait!” she called when George immediately went to rush off to who-knew-where. “Why do you want to know? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to find out why DSRAC missed you,” he declared, “When it’s a failure of every single one of their principles that they did.”
She was not able to stop him as he rushed off to headquarters after that. Before he ran out the front door, she called after him and asked him to leave her out of whatever it was he was doing. She was not certain he heard her though.
“Don’t worry,” calmed Lockwood from just behind her. She almost jumped out of her skin when he did – she had not known he was there. “He might have looked like he was not listening, but he always is.”
…
“Move your feet further apart and widen your stance, like this,” said Lockwood as he demonstrated what to do.
She was currently sweating through her one set of t-shirt and shorts with Lockwood in the exercise room; she was board, and he had offered to train her in swordcraft as a distraction. She had stupidly agreed, thinking it might be fun. But Lockwood was a liar – this was not fun, and her arms were burning from holding up the blunted practice sword for so long. She had been gritting her teeth and throwing him dirty looks for the past quarter hour of this torture. Apparently being a vampire meant he was stronger, faster, and he did not need to breath, nor did he sweat. While she was drenched like a drowned rat, he still looked crisp as a new morning. That he was still wearing his stupid suit just added insult to injury. When this was over, she was going to find the closest bucket full of water and dump it on his head just so he stopped looking so perfect.
“I’m…trying,” she growled under her breath. She did not have very much to spare for speaking right now, but she made do.
Lockwood chuckled. “You need to relax your muscles more,” he instructed, “Tensing up like that just makes it easier for people to knock you down. If all your muscles are locked in one position, they can’t respond as well to outside force.”
She tried breathing through her nose again instead of panting like a dog in a heat wave and tried easing up on her clenched muscles. The practice sword wabbled in the air in response – threatening to drag her down with it as it made its permanent acquaintance with the floor.
It was Geroge’s fault she had been reduced to this. He was gone more than usual now that he seemed to have decided to dig through every DSRAC record from the last century. He did this alongside his normal research, and the random moments when he would snatch Lockwood to drag him down to the warded room in the basement for their latest attempt at replicating his cure. He never failed to show up on time for magic practice with her. But both him and Lockwood had agreed that she should limit her time outside as much as possible until she could better control her magic for her own safety. She kicked up a fuss about it, but had not actually tried very had to overrule them. She still remembered only too well what had happened the last time she ignored their warnings.
“That’s better,” said Lockwood. When she continued to warble with the sword in her hand, he came over and grasped her wrists to put them back in the right position. “Looks like you’ve just about had it for the day though. You’re not going to do any damage to anyone by swaying with the wind in front of them like that.”
“My arms are tired from holding this stupid thing up!” she snapped. “And you won’t let me actually swing it!”
He gave her a thin-lipped smile full of mirth with a twinkle in his eyes. “Swinging it around like a baseball bat doesn’t work with swords. You’re holding a bladed weapon – you have to remember to keep proper edge alignment with whatever you are striking at, or its useless. If you don’t, all you do is give people an opening to break through your defense and wrestle you to the ground. That’s a place you never want to be in any fight.”
She paused in her frustrated fuming for a moment. “Wait,” she drawled, “Are you implying that swordfights can devolve into a kind of wresting match when opponents get close enough?”
“Real sword-duals actually usually end in a kind of wresting match,” he answered immediately. “Clashing the blades repeatedly does nothing but destroy the edges of both swords – and neither party wants that. If the first few blows don’t achieve anything, then opponents often change tactic and try getting in under the others defences really close where a sword is no longer useful. That’s usually the point when they attack with a hidden dagger or some other close-range weapon.”
She eyed him standing there in his stupid perfect suit, still helping her keep her hands aloft in a vertical guard position. “Well, in that case,” she chirped brightly. In the next second, she dropped the sword and threw her body sideways directly into his chest. The practice sword clanged loudly when it slapped into the floor and Lockwood let out a surprised “OOF” as they followed suit. Her shoulder ground directly into his diaphragm while he ended up splayed out on the rubber mats underneath her.
She felt his chest vibrate with his laughter as she rolled off, wolfish grin firmly in place on her face. For a long while, he just laid there laughing. “I have to admit,” he wheezed once it started to subside, “That I did not see that coming.”
With victory assured for now, she peeled herself off the floor and up to her room for a shower. Maybe she would actually read those books George had given her on magic the other day. She had taken the smaller ones, but gave a rather pointed polite refusal when he showed her a 600-page text from 300 years ago that was larger than her torso, dustier than the rafters of a textile mill, and looked to be hand-written in what equated to 4-point font.
Notes:
What do I love about this? George is all over the place. Lockwood's offer to "train Lucy in swordcraft" (we all know what your actually after, buddy), and Lucy *BRAWLS*
🤣🫢
Chapter 27
Notes:
I was kind of all over the place with this chapter. I think I landed on something that is in the correct position to spring to the other events I want to take place, but only time will tell that, I guess. 🤞🏻
Chapter Text
“Get away, stop,” moaned a woman. She sounded like she was only barely holding onto consciousness, voice thready and faint. “My father will kill you.”
“See, that’s where your wrong little lady,” said the raspy voice of a man. “I’m already dead.”
“…you…are…a monster…get away…”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” purred the man’s voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alive. As much as it’s fun to talk murder, I’ve found that it’s more mess than it’s worth to follow through. I leave the suspicious deaths to her now, you see. I was one of those. That’s why I’m like this now.”
“…get away…”
“Just one more sip,” whispered the man, “And then you’ll forget that any of this ever happened.”
“…no…”
“Yes.”
There was a quiet scream prompted by a soft snarling growl. What sounded like something sharp sinking slowly, carefully into flesh.
“…get off me…get away…” moaned the woman’s voice, almost too faintly to make out.
Lucy lurched sideways out of her bed with a scream of her own and crashed to the floor in a tangled mess of sheets. She fought blindly against the restriction, mind still fixed in the phantom sounds from her dream. Static zipped across her skin. She almost thought she could feel the sting of fangs piercing her neck; she knew without a doubt that her dream had been about a vampire feeding on someone. Who they were though, she had no idea. Her head was pounding, and when she thought to look towards her magic, it was roaring in waves that battered against the shores of its pool, looking for any way it could escape.
Dimly, she heard pounding footsteps approach. Someone banged on her door and called out. But she could not respond – still trapped in that woman’s weakened scream and the man’s taunting cruelty. After an indeterminate amount of time a door opened somewhere, and more footsteps sounded. She felt a presence appear somewhere close to her, but she was blind to anything outside of the things she felt, and the magic that roiled angrily inside her. She whimpered in fear, and redoubled her efforts to escape the prison she found herself in.
“Lucy!” called a voice from somewhere far, far away. “Luce, it’s alright. You’re alright.” The voice accompanied the feeling of someone grasping her arms to still her flailing limbs. For a single second, it felt like she was the woman from her dream, pleading with what little strength she had left to be let go. But she was not that woman. That woman had been a dream – an echo from another time. And suddenly her magic froze in place before dropping like a stone back into its pool, sloshing against the shores a bit, but blessedly still once more. Her movements stilled as she panted, shivers still wracking her body as magic sizzled along the surface of her skin.
…
Lockwood had come rushing up when he heard her scream. Once she stilled her wrestling match with her sheets, he picked her up as easy as if she was made of air and deposited her back onto her bed. From there, he worked to untangle her from her sheets, speaking calmly to her as she shivered with glazed eyes.
She was not sure, but at some point, she thought she might have heard George come up, whispering urgently with Lockwood. Maybe she fell asleep again somewhere after that. She did not think she had. But when she finally was fully awake, there were runes drawn on her arm again, and Lockwood was sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching her.
“What…happened?” she asked groggily as she sat up.
“Careful Luce,” warned Lockwood as he transferred to sitting on the edge of her bed, “Move slowly.” He helped guide her into a sitting position, leaned back against the head of her bed propped up on pillows. “I was going to ask you that same question,” he said once she was settled.
She blinked in the glare of light coming from her window. It looked like a beautiful day out. “I…I was dreaming. A nightmare,” she hedged.
Lockwood gazed at her for a long moment. “That was no normal dream. You smelled of magic, Luce, so what happened?”
She bit her lip, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts into something resembling order. “I’m…not sure,” she whispered.
Just then she heard George approach – once again holding his enormous rune reference tome. It spewed out a small cloud of dust when he dropped it on a nearby table. The thing smelled like secrets, forbidden knowledge, and history. He turned to face them with his glasses flashing in the glare from the window. “You’re awake now,” he said, “That’s good. How do you feel? What happened?”
She glanced back and forth between the two boys waiting patiently for her answer. “I’m fine,” she reassured, “Just…a little shaken.”
George gave her a very unamused look with his sharp eyes. “Sure,” he groused, “You’re absolutely fine. That’s why Lockwood heard you scream, and came up to find you tangled in your sheets on the floor while you were non-responsive from a vision, and then saw fit to wake me up, so I could calm your magic with healing runes.” He folded his arms and glared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Tell us what really happened.”
Well, it looked like she would not be getting out of explaining this. It was strange to her though – all the other times she had had these dreams, they were things immediately relevant to her. This one had not seemed to have anything to do with her though. She did not feel a sense of familiarity with either of the voices she had heard.
“It was a dream,” she started, “But I could only hear sounds and voices. I’ve…had some like it before. They always make my magic feel unsettled when I wake up. But this one was…different? The other ones I’ve had have all been something to do with what was happening around me; like a warning, or an explanation, I guess. This one…wasn’t like that. I think…it was about a vampire talking with someone they were feeding on.”
George looked thoughtful as he took in her halting explanation. Lockwood reached out a hand to her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“These other dreams you mentioned,” began George after a moment of deep thought, “Were they also only sounds?”
“Yeah, all but one of them.”
“Explain them to me,” he prompted.
…
George squeezed every detail he could out of her when asking for her to recount this latest, as well as all the other dreams. “Your magic must be focused on auditory phenomenon,” he mussed when she was finished. “It reacts to your emotions or situation, and supplies you with whatever you need to understand what’s happening around you at the time. Although, that does not fully explain the one vision that also included images.”
She ended up explaining more than the dreams themselves – or visions, as both Lockwood and George were assuring her now. The story of hearing Lockwood talking to someone called “Flo”, who called him “Locky” had prompted her to have to explain how she could sometimes hear voices of people that were not there. This had led to her explaining the unsettling day of sitting safely in Arif’s office with him, while listening to a sadistic voice that was only in her head.
“It’s not that those voices are from people who are not real, or only exist in your head,” pointed out George. “They’re coming from someone you cannot see in the moment with your eyes; your magic was able to find them, and allow you to hear what you otherwise could not.”
She explained it all, hoping the whole while that they would actually believe her. Nobody had believed her in her home town. They had all thought she was making up stories to cover her own guilt in the events of that horrible night at the mill. Barnes had taken her seriously though, when she told him about the dream of those people trying to get into her room.
“Your still anxious Lucy,” commented Lockwood when she hesitated in explaining everything. “Is it that you think we won’t believe you?”
Stupid vampiric super-hearing. It was hard to hide her fear of dismissal when Lockwood could hear her heart rate go up at the thought of it.
Both boys were aware that something bad had happened in her home town which prompted her coming to London. She had let slip that everyone blamed her in some of those late-night conversations. George pressed her now for the full story – something she was not sure she could give. Lockwood shot George a warning look, and told her they could stop if she needed to.
But she wanted to get it all out, and they were both sitting here with her, listening. There was not a single point where they looked at her as if questioning her sanity, or wondering if she was spinning tales. They believed her story. In the end, that was the only thing that got her to tell them everything.
Geroge sat back with a thoughtful look. Lockwood had moved to her side when she broke down explaining the events at the mill. He was still holding her hand now, giving it a gentle squeeze when he knew she was feeling overwhelmed. Maybe that vampire super-hearing was not stupid after all.
“It’s interesting how you only seem to be able to hear the voices or thoughts of people who are either working against you in some way, or are a danger to you,” mussed George.
Lockwood shot him a dark look. “I never –”
“Face it Lockwood,” cut in George before he had the chance to really say anything. “When you went behind Lucy’s back and involved Flo in watching her, you were working against her. That might not have been how you meant it, but you deliberately went against her wishes.”
Lockwood still looked rather mutinous, but did not seem to be able to find fault in this declaration. He folded his arms sullenly and made no further comment about it.
“You are right though Lucy,” continued George as if there had been no interruption. “This latest vision does not seem to fit the pattern of the others.” His eyes were bright with the trill of discovery; obsessing and re-cataloguing everything he knew in an effort to solve the mystery.
“The vision itself did not give enough information to figure out what it means. We know that at some point, a vampire had the conversation you heard with one of their victims. But based on when you had that vision about Lockwood and Flo, you can see things that have happened in the past as well as things that are happening in the moment. We have no indication of when the event you heard happened – or who might have been involved in it. All we know is that whoever that vampire was, they gave some cryptic warning about some woman who was the cause of suspicious deaths, including their own.”
…
Once it was assured that she was physically fine – George once again pilling her with a hefty breakfast – he left for DSRAC to see if there were any reports of vampire attacks on woman that had not ended in death recently. It was the best he could do without more information to go on.
The story of the mill seemed to particularly bother Lockwood. “It was a vampire attack,” he declared, looking pensive. “It almost seems like it was a borderline-Rampager with just enough of their mind left to them that they could understand that the smell of your magic had to be coming from somewhere. A real Rampager would have given up and left when there were no more obvious signs of life.”
“Why does that bother you so much?” she asked.
He deliberately shook himself and turned to give her comforting close-lipped smile. “Don’t worry about it anymore. DSRAC will make sure it does not happen again. That’s their job after all.”
When he thought she was not looking, she saw his face fall into a contemplative frown. He may have been reassuring her that there would be no more such attacks, but it did not look like he quite believed that.
Chapter 28
Notes:
I had a real golden moment of fluff when writing this one, so hope you guys enjoy it!
Chapter Text
Felling physically rung out, Lucy spent the day mostly lounging about. She sat in various places throughout the house with her little sketchpad and meager drawing supplies working on whatever struck her fancy.
Lockwood wondered off sometime ago, and did not reappear until she was sitting at the table in the kitchen come lunchtime. When he sauntered into the room it seemed to her that his usual easy grace had evaporated somewhat. His movements seemed forced and he kept reaching into a pocket with a far-off look in his eye for some reason.
“Alright, what’re you trying to hide?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow.
He seemed to steel himself before he sat down across from her. As he did, he pulled a small, carefully wrapped item out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “This is for you,” he said as he slid the little package towards her.
“What is it?” she asked as she cautiously took the thing up and undid the twine knot keeping it closed.
“It’s a charm that will help stop you from using magic unconsciously,” he explained. “It may help stop your visions from interrupting your sleep so much.”
The wrapper fell away to reveal said charm hanging on a small silver chain. The little medallion was a sculpted piece of metal in the fashion of a Celtic shield knot interlaced with engraved runes and other symbols or words she did not recognize.
The piece looked immeasurably old – although, it was not surprising that Lockwood owned such a thing, since he was several hundred years old too. “…I couldn’t,” she whispered, watching the light catch on the glimmering surface, casting the carvings into greater relief. “What if I lose it?”
“Keep it,” he asserted softly, giving her one of his thin-lipped soft smiles. “It does no one any good sitting in an old wrapper in a drawer somewhere. And it’s made of silver anyway, so I can’t touch it.”
“Where did you get it, if you can’t even touch it?” she asked.
Lockwood turned his face away from her. His expression was something indecipherable. She could not decide if he looked sad, or guilty, or even angry. Probably something between all three of those. “It’s…from when I was a child. I’m a shapeshifter – transformations can be dangerous if they are done incorrectly. It…was given to me to keep me safe while I learned to control my ability. It should do the same for you with your visions.”
She closed her fist around the charm and thanked him. He gave her the same soft close-lipped smile again, his eyes betraying something much deeper she could not yet find a name for.
…
In the aftermath of her vision, George brought his research home to continue working even after returning from DSRAC. “I don’t like that we have so many questions right now without answers,” he gripped when she asked about it. His every spare moment – of which there were already relatively few – was spent holed away in his room with his references and notes.
The second he noticed the charm necklace, he became instantly fascinated with it. Rather than suffering having him drag her down to a light by her neck in his enthusiasm, she surrendered the charm to him so he could look more closely at it. “This is an ingenious piece of magic,” he enthused, turning the charm every-which way in the light to better see all the engravings. “It combines old Celtic symbolism with magic runes and the old language of magic. Where did you get this Lockwood?”
“It was made for me when I was little,” he answered in an offhand way. “I once fell very ill, and every time I had a coughing fit, I partially transformed. You know transformation can be dangerous if you do it wrong. My parents were worried, and wearing that stopped it from happening.”
George wrote down the runes and words etched into the metal for latter reference in his never-ending piles of research. He handed it back to her then before bustling off to his room.
“Were…your parents magicals too?” she asked Lockwood after a moment, replacing the charm around her neck.
Lockwood froze for a second at the question. The deaths of his family clearly something he was uncomfortable speaking of. “Yes,” he answered slowly after forcing himself to relax again. “My entire family were magicals – everyone including my sister. We were fortunate enough to live in a small community that had at least one magical in each family.”
“Was it dangerous back then,” she asked, “To be a magical?” Even the regular history she knew, witches were the subject of many bloody hunts through the years.
“It would have been, had our situation been different. It’s harder to be biased against magicals when you have one as a brother or sister, mother or father. Everyone knew it wasn’t something you chose, and it was more dangerous to not teach people about magic than it was for them to learn,” he explained. “By then, the magical communities had started to recognize what kept killing so many of their number, so we all knew about vampires. My parents were actually scholars. They were trying to research where vampires might have come from.”
“Did they ever find anything?”
Rather than answer, he gave her a sad kind of look. ‘They never got the chance’, said that look without speaking. Without even thinking, she suddenly found herself squeezing him in a fierce hug. When he realized what was happening, he held himself rigidly with his face turned away. For a fleeting second, she allowed herself to register that her neck was suddenly very close to a vampire – but in the next second the thought was banished. This was Lockwood. He was not going to bite her; she was safe. She hugged him a little tighter and refused to pull away. After a long moment, she felt him give in and return the hug with a brief squeeze of his own. She fled the room once she released him, not sure what she had wanted from that, but pleased she had gotten him to relax all the same.
…
During their next lesson, Geroge still refused to allow her to do more than call on her magic. He was nothing if not adaptive though, and he had her focus on what she heard verses what she felt. She found that when she started listening to her magic rather than feeling blindly for it or trying to see it, she progressed much faster. In a single lesson, she went from barely being able to hold only as much magic as she could fit in her hands to being able to rile up and quiet her entire pool of power. The trick was what it sounded like; water trickling, even massive waves crashing meant her magic was directable. It was when the sound changed, started rumbling like thunder that there were problems. She learned quickly that the sound of lightning crashing inside herself was bad – she had been able to pull back and quiet it down, but the damage had already been done and she had needed the healing rune again.
Chapter 29
Notes:
Guys, entertaining stubborn-Lockwood things happened, and then I somehow gave it an existential crisis...oops ;D
Chapter Text
Lucy did not have any more visions during the night following Lockwood’s gift. Since figuring out that her magic was directed mostly towards sounds, she managed to get a complete handle on it. With George’s careful direction, she learned how to call out simple trickles of power, rise up crashing waves, and call down the roaring torrents of a waterfall, then quiet everything to silent lapping at shores once again. The first time Geroge had her try collecting all her power and directing it at once, it left her exhausted, but not overstimulated like before. The second day she still had energy to spare even once they stopped. She was happy that the tingling, overtight feeling of her skin had all but faded away.
A couple days after the vision incident, she bore witness to what happens when Lockwood went slightly too long without feeding. Usually, he spent most of his days training in swordcraft. She noticed him spending less time doing that, and more time sitting quietly reading. His energy seemed to not flag so much as drop off a cliff, and she wondered if he was ok. He brushed her off with a thin-lipped smile and assurances that nothing was wrong when she asked. That was when she went to George.
Goerge nearly tore his hair out in frustration when she let slip what was happening. “You are an idiot Lockwood,” he swore, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“I’m fine, there’s nothing to –”
“Don’t give me that bull again,” snapped George. “Now, I am going to go to the butcher, and you are going to be here when I get back, and you are going to feed, weather you want to or not. Unnegotiable.”
She was promptly put on Lockwood-watch duty while Geoge went out to his butcher friend. The need for her to do so became evident when Lockwood tried – multiple times – to escape before anyone was any the wiser. He nearly managed it more than once simply because he could move so fast. She ended up dragging him into the sitting room and planting herself on his lap to stop him from running off.
“You do realize that I’m strong enough to move you without any trouble, right?” he snarked unhappily from behind her.
“Sure,” she agreed. “But if you’re trying to run off without me noticing, that’s not going to work in your favour, is it?”
George returned with a bloody cut of meat to find Lockwood sulking with her still sitting determinedly on his lap. He looked like he did not know if he should burst out laughing or beat his head against the wall. With the vampire nanny now returned, she transferred herself to another chair in the room.
George dropped the wrapped package on Lockwood’s lap and then stood back with his arms crossed, stern expression firmly in place. “Well?” she snipped, “Go on then. We both know you need to feed.”
At the appearance of the package, Lockwood tensed like she had not seen him do before. It was like he did not want to even look at it. “I’ll just take this and –”
“No,” cut in George, his glasses flashing. “You don’t get to play the ‘I’ll go eat this in private’ card this time. You’ve pulled that before and then not fed at all anyway. If you don’t want me to watch to make sure you actually feed, you should remember to go hunting before your energy levels drop off so much.”
It was kind of stupid, but this was the first time she understood what it meant that Lockwood might have his soul, but he was still a vampire. He lived off drinking blood from other living creatures – and he hated it. As she watched the scene play out, she realized something else; this would be the first time since her rescue she would see Lockwood as a vampire. It was one thing to know he was one, another thing entirely to find yourself faced with the proof. She had not once seen him extend his fangs while living with him. A part of her was nervous, but the larger part was watching his tense form, his reluctance to feed.
George continued to stand guard over Lockwood’s shoulder. Lockwood continued to look tense.
“Do you…want me to leave the room?” she asked softly.
Lockwood shot her a guarded look. “Do you want to leave?”
She considered herself before she responded. She saw George shoot her an emotionless look before returning his glare to the back of Lockwood’s head. “I don’t think so,” she mused. “You have to eat just like anyone else. It’s not your fault you just do it differently.”
Something that looked like gratitude flit across George’s face before disappearing. Lockwood gazed at her for a long moment before unwrapping the package. The wax paper stuck wetly to the pound of meat. It came away smeared in bright crimson. Lockwood’s nostrils flared as it did. He seemed to hesitate for a long moment, before opening his mouth, extending his fangs, and sinking them into the meat.
It…actually was not that bad to witness. Watching the meat kind of dry up the longer it went on was somewhat disconcerting, but not majorly so. It was probably actually less gross than watching someone chew with their mouth open, with pulverized mush on display for everyone. She did not flinch – did not look at Lockwood funny when he finally retracted his fangs. Though Lockwood avoided looking at her.
“You look better now,” she commented as George spirited away the remaining clump of now bloodless meat.
Lockwood gave her a pained sort of grimace in place of a smile as he wiped his face with a napkin before fleeing the room.
…
“Now that you’ve got a better handle on your magic,” started George once they were both seated in the warded room of the basement with the door firmly closed behind them. “I better teach you how to mask your magic, to make it harder for vampires to identify you.”
She cocked her head at him. “I don’t quite understand how that’s supposed to work.”
“Vampires can smell magic,” he explained, “Lockwood realized you had it from the very first day you came to the house for a delivery. That’s why he came out to talk to you, and warn you to be careful, even though he’s not supposed to let people see him.”
“That’s why you yelled at him then?” she asked as she remembered that day. “I thought you were both crazy.”
Geroge inclined his head as a means of admitting that this assessment was apt enough. “Yes, that’s why I yelled at him,” he admitted, “But back to the lesson – I’ve had you learn how to call on and control your magic, to get you used to the feel and pressure of your own power. I don’t know if you’ve realized, but every time you do that, you charge the air around you with magic. If you want to keep your magic from the notice of vampires – or anyone else you don’t want to let know about your powers – you need to find a way of stopping that from happening.”
“But how do I do that?”
“You’ve said that your magic feels like a massive pool of water,” continued George. “And that the more magic you pull from it, the louder the sounds of rushing water become.”
“…Yeah.”
George nodded to himself as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt. “Let’s assume that the louder your magic sounds to you, the more noticeable it is to others. When you described it as a roaring waterfall the other day, I could feel magic in the air. If you don’t want people to notice your magic, you have to find a way of making it quieter.”
“I don’t follow,” she said, “I mean – I do, but I don’t know how to do that.”
“Have you ever noticed how it seems quieter when it’s snowing outside?” asked George.
She blinked at him. Not quite sure where this line of questioning was going. “I…guess I never thought about it before. But…yeah, I have.”
“Snow absorbs sound better than water – water is better at transmitting it. It’s actually better at transmitting sound than air is,” he explained. “If your store of magic is like a pool of water, and the strength of sounds from it is a reference for how noticeable it is to others, then all you need to do to keep others from noticing it is blanket your magic in snow to dampen the sounds.”
The rest of the lesson saw George getting her to take small amounts of her magic and try making it like snow inside herself. She quickly realized that while making water into snow is simple in principle, actually accomplishing it was not.
“This isn’t about just pulling your magic to a new place,” soothed George when she became frustrated with her new lack of progress. “You need to push a new intent into your magic that it would never hold if left to its own devices. We’ve been working on feeling your magic and moving it around, but now you need to actually direct it. You’ve learned what it likes to do, but now you need to tell it what you want it to do.”
They kept at it for quite a while. By the end, she had only managed to make a single sloppy sounding pile of slush. George called the day when she started sweating from the strain – telling her to let him know if she developed a headache at any point the rest of the night.
Chapter 30
Notes:
Hi guys, sorry this one was so much latter in coming after the last chapter. I'd managed to write myself to the edge of a cliff at the Grand Canyon, and left myself nothing but a feather pen and a piece of string to get across to the other side. I had to stop and pull out my trusty old dip pen and pot of ink so I could write out my thoughts on where I wanted the story to go and figure out how I wanted to go forward. Guess I can't really say this things got no outline now, cause it sort of does at this point, even if it's just as sketchy on paper as it was inside my head. Anyway, hopefully this ones a good enough chapter that it won't be a disappointment to have waited so long for it :D
Chapter Text
When Lucy came down for breakfast the next day, she found Geroge absentmindedly scribbling something on the thinking cloth, some of his research notes sitting beside him. He was still absorbed in research every spare second of the day.
“Have you managed to find any answers yet?” she asked.
He continued to scribble away without looking at her. “Yeah. The DSRAC vampire hunter who was supposed to be in charge of your hometown’s area was some guy called Jacobs. He’s been fired for drinking on the job, and failing in the line of duty. He hadn’t done a proper sweep to check for magicals in 20 years, and the past few years he gave up even looking for vampires.”
Lucy stared at the top of his head. “I…know the name Jacobs,” she said, “Everyone in town knew him. They all said that he was some special agent from the big city.”
George paused in his scribbling to look at her. “Vampire hunters are an elite division within DSRAC. They have to be, if they want to actually be able to hunt vampires who are both stronger and faster, never mind if they have other abilities. I’m guessing he used his training as an excuse to get away with whatever he wanted in your town.”
“…Probably,” she admitted. “I don’t remember him coming to investigate the mill. Every other constable in town was there the next morning – he wasn’t.”
George sported a neutral expression as he went back to his notes. “So he’d given up and decided to live in willful ignorance. I looked up the police record of that incident – anyone with half a brain could see that it was the work of a borderline-Covenist Rampager. But there was no accompanying DSRAC record of the event – Jacob’s never bothered to look into it or report on it.”
“What happens now?” she asked. “That vampire must still be out there somewhere.”
“I heard from Barnes that a team has been sent out to track down where they came from and eliminate the threat. I’ve also heard chatter around headquarters of people complaining. Apparently, the heads of DSRAC found out what happened, and are now requiring every DSRAC employee to submit a summary of their work every 6 months.”
“They want to make sure no one else is slacking,” she mumbled.
“Looks like it,” agreed George.
She watched him for a moment longer. “You don’t think that’s the end of it, do you?”
George paused once more to look up at her. “No, I don’t. A drunken agent slacking in his duties is just a little too convenient an excuse for me to accept. It can’t be the whole story; although it does mean that the story might not be as bad as we feared. But Rampagers are too volatile to have come from somewhere else – that means there is at least one Covenist vampire who lives somewhere near your hometown. And any Covenist would be able to recognize someone who’d likely end up a Rampager after being turned.”
“Do you think…it was all planned?” she asked. She focussed on a hangnail at her thumb, worrying it with her fingers. She winced as she pulled it away, a small bead of blood appearing in its place.
Geroge was silent for a time. “I think it’d be a better explanation for what happened to you than a drunk not doing his job is.”
…
It took maybe half the day for Lucy to realize that Lockwood was avoiding her. She was not exactly sure why. It was very difficult to ambush someone to demand an explanation when they could hear you coming from three floors and several rooms away. She had not yet managed it.
Geroge had already left for DSRAC, so she did not have much of anything to do. Sure, it was nice to be able to bum around and draw or read books whenever she wanted, but Lucy was used to always being on the go with some job or chore or other task. With her still unable to mask her magic, both the boys were firm on her spending as little time outside as possible. She managed to get them to bend just enough to allow her to sit in the garden – it was enclosed with shoulder height brick walls and well within Lockwood’s home turf claim on the house, so it was deemed safe enough.
The day turned boring pretty quickly. There was only so much drawing or reading you could do before you found yourself needing contact with another person. Usually, this was not a problem since Lockwood was always happy to strike up a conversation. Lucy sat with her tiny sketchbook on her lap, head tilted back with eyes closed as she leaned against the crab apple tree behind the house.
She had left the storm door in the kitchen open; just the screen door was closed to keep the bugs out while letting the fresh air in. With her eyes still closed, she heard the creak of the cupboard door to the basement open, then the clanging of footsteps on the iron stairs.
She peaked her eyes open and looked back towards the kitchen. Lockwood must have decided to practice his swordsmanship again. He must have been feeling better after George made him feed yesterday.
A long second of indecision passed. The little oval leaves of the tree swayed in a breeze above her head. If she went inside now, Lockwood would likely be too focused on his practice to notice her come in. And there was only one way in or out of the basement. If she wanted someway of ambushing him to find out why he was avoiding her, she could not have asked for a better opportunity.
The whooshing sound of a steel blade slicing through the air drifted up to her when she pushed open the creaky cupboard door. As she descended, she heard it falter slightly before picking back up with renewed vigor. Emerging into the basement brought Lockwood into view; still wearing his suit as he pushed gracefully though the moves and stances of his drill. There was just a little more force and speed behind the familiar routine than usual. She planted herself on the second-to-last step and watched, waiting for when he would pause before the next set.
Lockwood came to a stop with his back facing her as he finished the practice routine. “Why have you been avoiding me today?” she asked the second she saw him pause.
She could see his shoulders tense. “I haven’t.”
“You have,” she accused. “I can’t figure out why.”
He turned and gazed at her long and hard – face unreadable. His expression was something akin to surprise. But there was also a deeper shimmer of something else in his eyes she could not name. “It really didn’t bother you, did it?” he whispered.
She almost did not hear him. “What really didn’t bother me?”
He avoided looking her in the eye when next he spoke. “You…saw me feed yesterday.”
She blinked. “…Yeah,” she hedged, “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It…didn’t bother you…to watch that?”
“Does it bother you if I eat in front of you?”
“Of course not,” he answered immediately.
“Then why would you think you eating would bother me?” she demanded.
He chanced a glance at her, blinking in confusion. “That’s…not the same thing.”
She huffed as she crossed her arms. “How d’you figure that?” she snarked. “You don’t get all funny if you see me eat a piece of toast by picking it up with my hands and shoving it into my mouth – which we both know you’ve seen me do by now. How is what you did any different?”
“It just…is,” mumbled Lockwood.
She shook her head, fixing him with an unyielding stare. “It’s not. I eat meat too.”
Lockwood did not appear to know how to counter her declaration.
…
The wary distance Lockwood had been keeping from her evaporated after that. He continued his drills with the same enthusiastic spring to his step that she was more used to seeing from him. She transferred herself to the rickety old chair pushed off to the side of the room to watch. George used the desk behind it to store the mountain of files and other detritus from his research.
A half an hour latter, once he was finished his drills, Lockwood offered her another lesson in swordcraft. Stupidly, she agreed again. Unfortunately, this time he had gotten wise to her trick. He used his vampire speed to dance away from her any time she got too annoyed and resorted to throwing down the sword in her hand in favour of tackling him to the ground.
Chapter 31
Notes:
Well, we've got the ball rolling in the right direction finally for the next arc of the story. I'm still making this stuff up as I go, but I think I like where we're heading for the moment! :)
Chapter Text
Two weeks after moving into Portland Row found Lucy able to blanket her entire pool of magic in silence. The difference she was able to make was deep enough that the first time she achieved it, Lockwood had actually interrupted the lesson thinking something was wrong.
“This is the first time I haven’t been able to smell your magic,” he defended after barging in on them. “I was worried something had gone wrong.”
“Quite the opposite, I think,” commented George. He took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt before replacing them. “If you can’t smell Lucy’s magic right now, then I think we’ve achieved what we needed to.”
“You can’t smell it at all?” she asked, somewhat proud of herself for achieving such a thing.
Lockwood however regarded her for a long moment. “…There is still a hint of it about you,” he murmured. “But that could easily be because I’ve gotten so used to what your magic feels like I can recognize it anywhere.”
Geroge had shoed him off at that point. They proceeded with the lesson and he made certain she could still draw out her magic while maintaining the sound-absorbing snow blanket. He seemed satisfied when she was able to do so without charging the air with magic multiple times in a row.
To celebrate her success, she argued for an expedition back to Arif’s shop. She had finished a drawing of the crab apple tree in the garden she wanted to give to Laura, and the drawing of the shop she wanted to gift to Arif. George was easy to convince – now that she could effectively hide her magic, he did not see the point in being quite so careful as to keep her holed away inside the house. At least, not during the daytime when the risk was significantly less.
Lockwood was another story; she had known he would be. “I don’t know if it’s safe enough yet for you,” he remarked. “The last time I went out, I still heard other vampires chattering about the possibility of a powerful magical somewhere in London.”
“But they won’t notice me now! I can hide my magic!”
“I still think it’s too dangerous…”
They ended up arguing back and forth for a while. She finally stormed off in a huff to her room. Damn Lockwood and his overprotectiveness.
She was tantamount to going anyway just to spite him when he appeared at the door with a cup of hot cocoa as a peace offering. “George had a few things to say after you left,” he remarked, “And while I don’t really like it, it’s not fair to you to force you to stay in the house.”
“So, you won’t stop me from going?” she challenged, “Even though you could?”
Lockwood knew immediately what she was really calling him on. “I’d never do that to you,” he breathed, “Never. You’re free to go wherever you please. I won’t stop you – not if that’s what you really want. I just want you to be careful.”
She was mollified by this declaration enough that she accepted the peace offering. She sat sipping it while Lockwood waited for her to say something.
He let out a long sigh when she continued to stay silent. “Luce, I know you feel I’m being…overbearing. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve seen a lot of terrible things happen to magicals who were caught unawares. I know I can’t keep you here forever. Especially not now that you can hide your magic. But I’ve seen, and been unable to stop it when things go wrong. I don’t want to hear about that happening to you.”
“I don’t want to stay hidden away for the rest of my life,” she argued back quietly, still nursing the hot cocoa.
Lockwood rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I know you don’t,” he murmured, “And I can’t blame you for that.”
In the end, he agreed to back off – at least during daylight hours. She did not try to fight him on the stipulation that he would be with her if ever she was about latter in the evening or at night. She would not budge on the condition of him letting her go to Arif’s unattended though. “I won’t be able to tell if masking my magic does me any good with you there,” she said. “I never get any warning signals as long as your around. If I want to see if it’s working, you have to let me go off on my own.”
…
She waited for midday before heading out to Arif’s to give everyone her gifts. George had gone off to DSRAC after sending Lockwood to apologize and make amends. Lockwood was in the library attempting to make it look like he was busy reading one of his trashy magazines. She knew he was listening for when she left, and that he would likely pace about incessantly until she returned safe.
Both Laura and Arif loved the drawings she had done for them. The first one she gifted to Arif was framed and sitting in pride of place behind the counter. Crushing hugs were shared all around, along with inquiries into how she was doing.
“So little missy,” called Arif when Laura wandered off to help a customer, “What would you say if I asked after your safety?”
Instantly she knew what he was alluding to. She thought about her answer for a long moment. “I’d say…that I think I’ve got it under control.”
When she left the house, she watched for the tingling feeling to return to her fingers. She actually assumed it would be worse now than it had been before, because it was the first time in so long she was outside of Lockwood’s protection. But that did not end up being the case. Rather than a distracting tingling in her fingertips, she found a kind of low hum in her chest. ‘Be careful’, it seemed to say. But it was not saying ‘Danger, run’, so she counted it as a victory that her training with George had paid off.
Arif regarded her silently for a long moment. “I’m glad to hear it.”
When her visit came to a close, Arif sent her off with a small box of donuts that included both what he knew to be her favourites as well as George’s. She tried to refuse it, knowing what they were actually worth and not wanting to take them for free. “I’ll accept your lovely drawings as payment for the treats, little missy,” declared Arif as he ushered her out the door. Laura was nodding in agreement from the counter with a smile on her face.
She caved after that, leaving with the box clutched to her chest. Lockwood was indeed pacing about agitatedly when she returned. He seemed cowed when she reported the difference in the sensations she had felt. George was overjoyed at both at the success of her ability to mask her magic, and the free donuts. He promptly declared that she should go visit Arif more often, to which she glared at him sternly for.
…
“When are you leaving for DSRAC?” asked Lucy the next morning at breakfast.
George sat across from her wolfing down his bacon and eggs. Lockwood was next to him nursing a steaming cup of tea.
“Once I’m finished,” answered Goerge when he managed to swallow. “Why are you asking?”
“Would I be able to come with you today? To help?”
The atmosphere in the room changed perceptibly. Lockwood glanced up sharply from his tea while George methodically put aside his utensils. His glasses flashed as he regarded her. “I thought we agreed that you exploring your magic was help enough with my research,” he said slowly.
“I also said I’d help figure out Lockwood’s cure, and I haven’t done anything yet about that at all,” was her immediate rebuttal.
“Luce,” breathe Lockwood.
George cut him off before they could get into another argument like the day before. “You still don’t really understand anything about magic. You have more learning and training to do if you want to be any actual help in that regard.”
“That’s why I want to come to DSRAC with you,” she argued fervently. “I’m board of sitting around doing nothing all day until you come back and we can have our lessons. I want to do more to help out.”
She had been thinking about this for most of the night after her return from Arif’s. She could now effectively mask her magic and had confirmation that it really did reduce the danger she was in when outside of Lockwood’s protection. Up to this point, she might not have been content exactly with her pseudo-house arrest, but she had accepted it as necessary. Now though, there was not as much of a reason for her to – she could go out without being in nearly as much danger. She was not going to attract as much attention to herself.
George was sitting back with a blank-faced look of contemplation. Lockwood looked as if he was only just holding himself back from being overbearing again. “You realize,” began George cautiously, “That DSRAC does not actually have the resources to train you further than effectively masking your magic. Not unless you’re interested in healing, protection charms, or magic identification.”
“What’s magic identification?” she asked after giving it some thought.
“It’s the practice of taking enchanted objects, people, or things, figuring out how they’re enchanted, and if necessary, disabling or breaking those enchantments,” answered George.
“I think I could do that,” she said slowly, “Would that be helpful in figuring out the cure?”
“It probably would,” admitted Lockwood. He was gazing at her steadily. “But you don’t have to.”
“I want to be useful.”
“You’re set on this than are you?” asked Lockwood tiredly. George sat back watching the scene play out.
“I am.”
“We could ask Flo if she’s willing to come help out,” threw in George.
Lucy’s eyes snapped to him.
“That’s…not a bad idea, actually,” admitted Lockwood after a moment of thought.
“Isn’t that the same person you sent to follow me without me knowing?” she challenged.
Lockwood had the grace to look contrite. “It is. She’s an old friend. Another magical I helped out some time ago. She works semi-independently from DSRAC to hunt down magical artifacts and get them out of more…unsavoury hands. If you really want to learn magic identification, there’s no one better than her.”
“She’d certainly be better at it than anyone you’d find at headquarters,” tacked on George. “So, what do you say Lucy?”
She thought through her options for a long moment. “I want to meet his ‘Flo’ person,” she declared. “And then I’ll make a decision.”
Lockwood gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Then it looks like you and I are going on a trip to the banks of Thames.”
Chapter 32
Notes:
Well, I had no idea what I was doing here, but I think it turned out alright.
Chapter Text
“We should wait untill after you eat lunch to go see Flo,” said Lockwood. “She spends most of her nights traveling up and down the Thames. She’ll be asleep if we go now, and…won’t be pleased by the wake-up call.”
Lockwood made a horrified kind of face at the very thought. Geroge snorted in amusement.
Lucy cocked her head at the pair. “If she’s also a magical, why is she out all the time at night?”
“She actually goes digging for relics during dusk and dawn when no one’s around,” answered Lockwood.
She opened her mouth to ask another question. George however, was already way ahead of her. “Flo goes out on her boat during the night both so it’s harder for vampires to get to her, and so she’s awake the whole time there’s the most danger,” explained George.
“There are very few vampires with the ability to transform and fly out to her there,” tacked on Lockwood. “Being on the water all night long is actually pretty safe.”
She accepted that explanation as good enough. She had never spent any significant time with other vampires; she had no idea how rare transformation was among them.
“If you’re going to go see Flo in the daytime, you should transform into a bird and fly there,” declared Geroge into the silence.
Lockwood sent him an annoyed look. “It’s going to look strange if Lucy’s seen following a bird around town. It’s also a lot harder to hide a bird becoming a person outside in broad daylight. And you already know I can’t take anything other than clothing with me when I do that.”
“So let Lucy take the bag of licorice swirls to Flo,” snarked George, “And spend the morning going through the route to Flo so she can get there without needing you to direct her. I thought you knew how to ‘pass by unnoticed’ anyway. You should not be going out in daylight where anyone can see you. Or have you forgotten?”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Of course I haven’t forgotten! But no one is going to pay me any attention if all I’m doing is going for a stroll down by the river.”
“Have you met old ladies?” demanded George. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at Lockwood fiercely enough to strike him down where he sat. “Because they will absolutely notice two people – one male, one female – heading out for a walk by the river.”
“I think we can safely assume that I’ve met many more old ladies than you, George.”
Lucy tried to hide her snort in her morning coffee. She clearly was not needed for this part of the conversation. George often got annoyed with Lockwood for revealing himself when it would really be better if he did not. They had had that conversation before – and it made sense, to an extent.
“Isn’t it more suspicious to have him hide all the time?” she interrupted. Both boys stopped glaring at each other in favour of staring at her. “You still kind of stick out when you’re a bird anyway.”
“While that may be true,” continued George before Lockwood had a chance, “DSRAC will not look twice at a shifter who’s reclusive.”
…
George only won the argument with Lockwood when he pointed out that Inspector Barnes was paying close attention to Lucy’s safety. Anyone seen going about town with her would find themselves under intense DSRAC scrutiny. “They’ll be looking for vampires trying to get close to her. You can not be seen swanning about with her.”
He went off to work after that, leaving Lockwood to sulk. He did not remain pouty for long though – they were off going through a map of the streets before the door had even closed behind George. Lockwood showed her a little-used dock on the map where Flo moored her boat during the days. “It’s the only out-of-the-way dock around here that’s got a gate on it,” commented Lockwood when he pointed it out. “She picked it because it allowed her to use protection runes to guard the dock for when she’s sleeping.”
After a simple lunch, Lucy grabbed her sturdy blue jacket and set out. Lockwood transformed before leaving the house, getting out some other way she did not see so a bird was not following her out the front door. She saw him glide in lazy circled overhead as she made her way along the route they had traced earlier on the map.
The lapping sound of water brushing the banks of the river greeted her when the dilapidated dock came into view. The part of town she found herself in was run-down and forbidding looking. The dock itself was tucked in behind an abandoned block of warehouses. Despite his protests on the matter, there was not a soul around to witness Lockwood’s transformation back into a person. He had sought out a shadowed corner to shift.
They walked out onto the dock together. Sitting tied to the very end was a rickety-looking old cabin boat. It was something of a miracle that the thing still floated.
Lockwood put out a hand to stop her when they were maybe 10 paces from. “Hand over that bag of licorice swirls will you Luce?” he said, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. “It’s best if we don’t startle her.”
“I don’t understand what the candy is for,” she answered as she handed over the bag she had taken with them.
Lockwood laughed softly. “They’re Flo’s favourites,” he chuckled, “And it’s always best to have Flo in a good mood when you call on her.”
Lockwood then rapped smartly on the rusted and unreadable sign strapped to the dock post next to them. It made a splintered, sharp-timbred sound as a corner decided to finally break away under the treatment. “FLO!” he bellowed, startling her.
There was a second where nothing happened.
“FLO!” called Lockwood again.
A muffled sound of crashing and cursing came from the seemingly empty boat.
“Who’s callin?” snapped the gravelly voice of what she hoped was a woman. “What d’you want?”
“It’s me, Lockwood!” he called.
There was what seemed to be a second of indecision – still no human form had emerged from the boat. “What d’you come wakin’ me up for?” growled the voice, “Shove off before I throw my silver broach at your face. Damn vampire.”
Lucy shot a concerned look around them. But there were no people, no boats, and nothing else around them to have heard.
“I brought licorice!” called Lockwood.
There was another weighted pause. “What kind?” they asked.
Lockwood shot her a wink of triumph. “Licorice swirls of course.”
There was another beat during which nothing happened. All of a sudden, a form emerged from some odd corner of the boat. She wore a long blue coat and knee-high wellington boots stained with river muck, along with a sun-bleached straw hat. “At least you always know to bring the good stuff,” they grumbled.
The bag of candy Lockwood was holding out was quickly snatched from his hand. Immediately, 5 pieces emerged and disappeared just as quickly. “What you bring the newest slapper here for then?” they asked.
“The new what!?” snapped Lucy.
“Lucy, this is Florence Bonard, aka Flo Bones – magic identification extraordinaire,” said Lockwood with a flourish. “Flo, this is Lucy Carlyle. George and I have been keeping her safe while helping her get a handle on her magic.”
Flo continued to chew her spoils while she listened.
She watched the girl with narrowed eyes. “You’re the one he told to follow me.” It was a statement, not a question.
Flo regarded her with a keen expression. She continued to munch on her licorice. “Still don’t know how you figured me out love,” she murmured while watching her. “I know you didn’t see me. But you knew I was there anyway. I’d say it was a good show if I wasn’t so annoyed.”
Lucy raised her chin defiantly. “I had a vision – I heard what you and Lockwood talked about when he asked you to follow me.”
Lockwood shifted uncomfortably beside her. Flo continued to watch her unflinchingly. After a long tense moment, she blew out a low whistle. “So that’s how you figured it. I’d wondered. No small talent you’ve got there love – no wonder Locky here was so desperate to keep you safe.”
Lockwood cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes…well…”
“Why did you agree to do it?” challenged Lucy.
Flo shrugged. “I was there too,” she answered, “Know what it’s like to be a magical left all alone, I do. Only difference is I already knew something was out there that wanted me. You didn’t.”
Lockwood did not interrupt while the two of them stared each other down. Lucy gave the barest of nods. Flo’s expression flickered with a touch of amusement before she returned the gesture, blank-faced and serious.
“Well then,” continued Flo briskly, crumpling up the now empty bag of candy. “What you lot come all the way out here to me for?”
“George has been training Lucy in her magic,” started Lockwood in a chipper voice. The tension in the air had finally evaporated, and he seemed to be immensely relieved by it. “But he has so little first-hand experience; Lucy wants to learn more. We hoped you’d help.”
Flo regarded her for a long moment. “Is that so?” she asked.
“The guys told me you have magic too – that you could teach me more than I’d learn if I went to DSRAC for help,” commented Lucy.
Flo gave a jerky nod. “Aye, that I could,” she growled. “They don’t tend to get involved unless somebody could end up dead. And even then, they’re not so good at their jobs. I do better hunting magic relics than whole DSRAC teams all by my lonesome.” She stopped and gave Lucy a searching look. “And I know you’d not do too well with the piss-poor teachers they’ve got. You’ve got too much magic for anyone in DSRAC to know what to do with you – could tell that much from following you like I did.”
“Does this mean you agree Flo?” asked Lockwood.
She scratched herself in an unnameable place. “Yeah,” she breathed, “I’ll help.”
“And you Lucy? Do you want Flo to train you?” questioned Lockwood as he turned back to her.
She nodded her head slowly. “Yes. I want to learn.”
Chapter 33
Notes:
Whoo-kay, this one here's a bit of a doozy. It's a longer chapter, but there was some important stuff happening, and I could absolutely NOT cut off Lucy's lesson with Flo any earlier than this. Hope you all enjoy that! It certainly felt tingly thinking about those experiences and writing them out, but maybe that's just me.
Chapter Text
Flo wasted no time on planning or hashing out details. The second Lucy agreed she was herding her onto the boat. Lockwood made to follow, but Flo stuck a threatening finger in his face. “Oh no you don’t,” she growled, “I’m not havin’ your worry-wart self hovering over me the whole time I’m with the girl. Now get.”
Lockwood was leaned away from her; his eyes crossed as he tried to keep her finger in focus. “I really believe –”
“Nope!” bellowed Flow, cutting him off. “There ain’t no point to this is she don’t learn how to protect herself. There’s no other vampire who’d be able to get to her while she’s on my boat, and you know it.”
Lockwood made to say something else, but she spoke over him once again. “Still no! I’ll bring her back to the house myself before sundown, if your so worried. Ain’t nothing gonna happen while we’re out on the water.”
“SHOO!” barked Flo when Lockwood looked ready to try arguing again.
He snapped his mouth shut, and cast a searching look towards her.
“You can go, I’ll be fine,” she offered.
Lockwood let out a frustrated breath, taking a step back from Flo’s confrontational stance. “Make sure you’re back well before sunset,” he grumbled quietly.
Flo rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill, Locky. Don’t get your knickers in such a twist.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.
Lockwood stood there stiffly for a long moment before turning and stalking away up the dock. Flo continued to watch him with her hands on her hips until he disappeared behind one of the crumbling old buildings back on shore. When he did, Flo nodded to herself before sweeping off to unhitch the boat.
“You know he’s still around somewhere, just as a bird, right?” she said when Flo stepped back onto her boat and headed for the cabin to take them out onto the river.
Flo shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah. He probably didn’t go too far.”
“He didn’t,” she asserted, “He’s somewhere watching us.”
Flo gave her a sharp look as they trundled away from the dock. “You sound pretty certain of that there Love,” she mussed, “Why is that?”
“I can tell,” she answered. “My magic hasn’t gone back to giving me warning signals. He’s still around somewhere.”
Flo gave her a funny look. She shifted self-consciously. Was it really so strange that she knew when Lockwood was about like that? She did not know, and perhaps it was a question she should start looking for the answer.
“What’d’you mean by that?” asked Flo carefully. She was bringing them up to a little island in the middle of the river, covered in nesting herons.
Lucy shifted about while she considered her answer. “It’s just that…since I’ve been in London, I’ve been getting constant warning signals from my magic. It only stops when Lockwood’s around…or when I’m near his house.”
Flo did not say anything as she brought them to a stop a safe distance from the little island and dropped the anchor. Once finished, she came around to the front of the boat and sat down across from her, still giving her that evaluating look.
“Well now, that is a strange thing,” she drawled, “You trusted him much faster than I did when I met him. Is this why?”
“Well…yeah,” she hedged, “But I still didn’t completely trust him when we first met. I thought he was mental.”
Flo continued to watch her. “You also didn’t know the truth then, did you?”
She shook her head.
“So, you might not have completely trusted him, but your magic did,” mused Flo. “Now that’s a strange thing.”
“But, why?”
“Magic remembers everything, Love,” answered Flo. “It was giving you warnings because it knew there was vampires, even if you didn’t.” Flo stopped to glance upwards for a second – a pensive look on her face.
Lucy’s eyes followed where Flo was fixated. High up above them, she noticed a white-breasted black bird circling. She huffed and crossed her arms at the sight, hoping Lockwood would notice the expression she was shooting him.
Flo’s voice brought her focus back down again. “By rights, if your magic was wigging out just by you being in the city, it should have had a full-on panic attack the second you went anywhere near him.”
“Is that what happened when you first met Lockwood?”
She scratched at her hairline, knocking her hat off-kilter. “Pretty much, yeah,” she answered, “Locky might not be so bad now, but he was a Rampager. Magic learned not to trust him.”
Lucy just stared at her uncomprehendingly. Flo sighed. “Look Love,” she started, “Rampagers don’t last long – max of a few years before someone kills them. Locky lasted way longer than that before getting his soul back. Means he probably killed hundreds of people, if not more – most of which would have been magicals, since he was one before being turned.”
“What does him being a magical have to do with anything?” she whispered. Only now were things starting to click into place. She had asked that question of him the first morning – how many people had he killed. He had looked so distraught at the accusation, made even worse because he did not know. He had imposed his will on those two humans and that other vampire. She had no idea if that was normal for vampires or not – she had not thought to ask. And she could not ask Lockwood. It was clear he was not comfortable with the strength of his own abilities. He knew what they likely meant. She shot another look up towards the bird circling above.
“Magicals who get turned hunger more for magic,” answered Flo. Her expression was determinedly blank. “See, they had it, then lost it, so they thirst after it more.”
“What do you mean they lost it? Lockwood still has magic.”
Flo nodded, glancing up at the bird now too. “Sure does. A vampire shifter who turns into a bird, not a bat. S’what made me give him a chance. It’s supposed to be impossible for vampires to use normal magic. The only thing they can shift into if they kill enough, is a bat. He can’t do it – I made him try before I’d trust him. But he can enthrall other vampires, which is not small potatoes. With how long he was a Rampager, he’s probably one of, if not the most powerful vampire there is.”
There was a long pause of silence. She did not know what to say. “By all rights Love,” continued Flo, “I’ve got no idea why your magic would trust Locky right out the gate. Mine didn’t.”
…
“Now then!” exclaimed Flow, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get back to teachin’ and forget the chit-chat part of this.”
Lucy was still reeling from what she had just been told. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she tried to reorient her mind to focus on what was happening now.
“Georgie’s been helping you get a hand on your magic?” asked Flo.
She nodded. “Yeah. I know how to mask it so it’s not so noticeable now, and I can still call on it. We figured out that my magic works better when I focus on sounds.”
Flo gave her a curt nod. “Good to know, that,” she said. “What you want to do with it, though?”
“I want to help George figure out Lockwood’s cure,” she mumbled.
Flo regarded her for a long time. “Aye, that’s a good place to start.”
Lucy felt like she might have just passed some important test she wasn’t of. It seemed like Lockwood was not the only one with a protective streak. Then again, she did not know what he might have done to earn Flo’s loyalty.
Flo glanced around her boat, a crease between her brows. “Knew I should have kept one of those protection charms I found last week,” she grumbled as she searched her boat. “If magic identification is what your lookin to start, what we really need is an enchanted object you can practice on – something that’s helpful and safe. I don’t think I’ve got anything on me now though…”
“Would this work?” she asked as she pulled out the charm necklace Lockwood had given her.
Flo turned at her question, but froze when she caught sight of the necklace. “Where’d you get that?” she asked.
She watched Flo’s startled expression with no small amount of trepidation. “…Lockwood gave it to me after I woke up from a vision that made me kind of…space out. He said it would help to stop me from using magic unconsciously. Is something…wrong?”
Flo blew out a long breath before seeming to shake herself out of her surprise. “Nothing wrong Love,” she murmured. “And yeah, that’ll do the trick nicely.”
Lucy took the necklace off and made to hand it to her. Flo waved it away though. “You keep hold of it,” she said. “Can’t show you how to use magic if you’ve got nothing to use it on.”
She brought the charm back towards her lap. “So what do I do?” she asked, running her fingers over the polished surface of the charm.
“Your magic’s focused on sound you said?”
“Yeah.”
Flo inclined her head. “Then take the charm and clutch it in your hand with your eyes closed. Use your magic and reach with it towards the charm – listen for any sounds you can coming from it.”
Closing her fist around the charm, she took a deep breath before closing her eyes. Thanks to George’s tutelage, it took no time at all for her to find her magic and unleash a little trickling snow-melt on a spring day from the blanketed pool. She let it gather before pulling the sound of wind forwards to cut off the flow and keep the rest safely masked with silence. She then set about trying to search for another source of sound.
“I don’t know where to find it,” she murmured after some time. Her face was scrunched up in concentration. She could find nothing else beyond the familiar silence of snow blanketing her own magic.
“You’re only exploring yourself there Love,” called Flo’s voice from far away. “You have to reach outside. Push the sound to just below the surface. Allow it to move where it wants from there. It’ll find wherever there’s other magic, all you have to do is follow.”
Taking another deep breath, she tried to do as told. This was a different kind of stretch from anything George had done with her. His lessons ensured she had no trouble touching or pushing around her magic, but he had never shown her how to move it outside herself like this. She struggled as she tried directing the sounds of water trickling towards her skin. It fought against her, wanting to turn around and head back the way they had already come. It was like trying to force water up a hill by blowing at it through a single straw. It just escaped to the side and trickled back to the start.
“Keep trying Love,” came Flo’s voice again. “You’ll get it.”
She grit her teeth and collected the trickle of power once again. Breathing in once, then twice, she shoved it upwards with all her might. She tried imagining it like a megaphone, casting the soundwaves further than she could on her own. This time, it worked. She felt as though a thread which had been pulled taught suddenly snapped, and the sound of water trickling rose to her skin with bruising speed. Pulling in ragged breaths, she trembled as she held it under the surface, clutching it like a lifeline.
“Careful there,” she heard Flo say. “Don’t force it so hard. Take a second, and then ease your hold on it.”
She vibrated in tune with the soundwaves as she focused on her breathing. After another minute or so, she felt steady again and eased her death-grip on the trickle of power. At least she had not heard any lightning strike. When her grip eased off, it felt like the water seeped through her fingers questioningly. If before she had been trying to force it uphill, now it had no idea where it was supposed to go. Like a colt trying to stand on it’s legs for the first time, it wobbled there, uncertain. Then there was a flicker of something that sounded like singing. Her trickling water almost seemed to perk up at it. For a moment, nothing else happened. Then she found herself pulled along in the wake of rushing water as it fled in search of the voices somewhere nearby. She crashed headlong past her own skin into something she knew was beyond her body, a calming, singing voice rising and drifting off in eddies around her. It was a beautiful sound; lilting, and quiet, and strong. Her little pool of water vibrated a reflection of it. She swayed in tune with it.
“Tell me what you hear,” called Flo, “Tell me what you can about what you hear.”
A soft smile graced her face as she began humming along with the voice. “There’s…singing…it’s…beautiful…”
“Stay with me Love,” called Flo’s voice again. There might have been urgency in it. She could not tell. “Don’t let yourself get so lost. Pull back.”
Though she little wanted to, some part of her registered that this was new territory and she should be careful. She took a deep breath and gathered her trickle of power before taking a step back. It came somewhat reluctantly, still shimmering with the waves of the music. She stayed there like a resigned parent holding their squirming child in their arms, still listening to the music.
“Lucy?” demanded Flo, “Can you still hear me?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, “I hear you.”
“Alright, good,” she heard her say. “Lucy, I want you to pull your magic all the way back to your core, let it go and open your eyes. Can you do that?”
“Yeah.”
She took a couple fortifying breaths before collecting her trickle of power once again. She dragged it back through her skin. Each step away from the singing felt like she was wading through quagmire. But she made it, and then it was easy to trudge down the hill. As she got closer to her pool of magic and whirling blanket of silence, she felt the trickle jump from her hands like an excited puppy running back to its mother. It rejoined the pool of power, falling out of notice behind the silence. Only then did she open her eyes.
Blinking, she noticed for the first time that Flo was right in front of her face. Her straw hat was tickling her forehead and there was a keen-eyed look of concern on her face. When she registered their close proximity, she lurched sideways out of range.
Flo pulled back when she saw awareness return to her eyes. They gazed at each other for several heartbeats without saying anything.
“Was that…good?” she asked nervously when the strain became too much.
Flo continued to stare at her. “Depends on your definition of ‘good’,” she answered evenly. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get so deep into an objects magic before so quickly. But you very nearly lost yourself there Love. For a moment, I thought you had.”
Chapter 34
Notes:
This one ended up being a little longer again. I feel like I should be cueing the training montage music at this point - take your pick of your favourite for the second half and enjoy!
Chapter Text
Lucy continued to work with Flo for the rest of the afternoon. Rather than having her reach for the charm again, Flo decided it would be better if they broke the process up into its steps and practiced them each in sequence. She was not allowed to do anything other than break off a piece of her magic and draw it to the surface of her skin for the rest of the day.
Once the sun started sinking in earnest, Flo called an end to it. She had managed to find a rhythm that made pulling her magic outwards easier, though there was still that same resistance. At least it did not leave her gasping for breath to do it now as it had that first time.
“Your magic must be real important to your health,” mussed Flo when they finally stopped. “S’only reason you’d be facing so much strain trying to move it outside your core.”
She quietly replaced the charm around her neck from where she set it aside for the remainder of the lesson. “Is that going to be a problem?” she asked.
Flo stood, shaking her head. She stretched like a cat after a nap before she gave her answer. “Shouldn’t be. Just means you’ve got to practice more.”
They set off back to the dock. As they approached, they noticed a figure in a long coat pacing about agitatedly. Flo snorted indelicately when she picked out Lockwood’s features. “Bloody vampire. He’s being more’n a nuisance than usual.”
She giggled at the petulance in Flo’s tone, but did not say anything about Lockwood’s hovering. She had already gotten mad at him for it once, and it had not ended well for her. If he was here, it was because he had reason to believe that he needed to be.
“I thought we agreed on ‘well before sunset’?” called Lockwood once Flo brought us up parallel to the dock. “Is this what you call ‘well before’?”
“Told you not to get your knickers in such a twist too, didn’t I Locky?” yelled Flo back. “There’s still plenty of daylight left.”
“An hour and 23 minutes is not ‘plenty of time’ Flo,” he grumbled.
Lucy helped Flo tie up by handing her the coils of scratchy hemp rope. “It is when you live what, a 40-minute walk away?” snarked Flo, “We’ve got time.”
Lucy clambered over the edge of the boat and back onto steady land. “How d’you know it’s exactly 23 minutes?” she asked.
Lockwood’s stiff stance seemed to melt slightly when he shifted his focus to her. Now unnoticed, Flo gave the pair an appraising look.
“Things just…smell different when sunset or sunrise is close,” answered Lockwood. “I can tell.”
Lucy nodded, though she did not really understand.
“Off with you two then,” called Flo, “I’ve still got the beauty sleep you interrupted to make up.”
Lockwood gave Flo a playful look of mock-surprise while holding out a hand for Lucy to take. “Beauty sleep? You? Now, that would be terrifying.”
Lockwood deftly dodged the silver brooch Flo threw at his face, laughing as he pulled Lucy along. Flo’s creative cursing followed them as they ran away.
“You’re terrible,” laughed Lucy. She tried for a look of stern disapproval, but the twinkling in Lockwood’s eyes as he winked at her made it difficult to maintain.
“Oh, Flo doesn’t actually mind,” he said waving her off, “She’s playing offended as much as anything else.”
“Still.”
“How did it go?” asked Lockwood.
Despite his earlier protests about the time-crunch of sunset, Lockwood led her leisurely through the maze of crumbling warehouses and back home.
She shrugged, scratching the back of her head self-consciously. “It was…different. Harder than I thought it would be. And stop playing dumb – we both saw you circling overhead the whole time. You know what happened.” She poked him accusingly in the side.
“I was far enough away and there was enough interference from everywhere else that the two of you talking was difficult to make out,” offered Lockwood.
She blew out a breath. “We didn’t actually do much. Flo said I was faster than anyone else she’d ever seen, but I also got lost real easy too.”
They passed through the long shadow of an older, gothic-style warehouse with sharp pinnacles at the roof corners piercing the sky. “I think getting lost in magic is something you’re going to always have to be careful of,” whispered Lockwood. “You have so much, it’s woven so thoroughly through your whole being. Flo will be able to sort you out though. You’re just going to have to practice.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said too.”
They walked in silence after that. Lockwood kept a hold of her hand the entire time. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be seen walking with me?” she prodded after a while.
Lockwood gave her a thin-lipped smile. “It’s not broad daylight anymore.”
“I am not responsible for the scolding you’re going to get from George for that loophole,” she declared.
Lockwood only laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Luce.”
…
In the days that followed, Flo came to pick her up at the house earlier in the morning for practice. She managed to assuage Lockwood’s trepidation by bringing her back midway through the afternoon. He still checked on them throughout the day, but he did not hover the entire time now.
Some days they went back to her boat and held lessons out on the Thames next to the same little island with the nesting herons. Other days, they wandered to one out-of-the-way location or another that Flo was familiar with. Sometimes, they stayed in the house and held lessons there.
Lessons with Flo were much less structured than they had been with George. Each lesson with George methodically built upon the last, inching forward carefully at an even pace. Flo often completely switched what they worked on from one day to the next in no discernable pattern.
“Knowing at least a little about how different kinds of magic work makes identification a whole lot easier,” explained Flo one day when she mentioned how much some things were confusing her.
The second day they were together, Flo had her take small portions of her magic and push it past her skin into the world, then let it go. She spent the whole day listening to the rippling sound of water being blown into waves by the wind get quieter and quieter until she started feeling light headed. She felt the pool of magic in her centre empty as the sound died. When she had nothing left but a single squelching pile of slushy snow, Flo called for her to stop.
“It’s to get you used to using up your magic,” explained Flo in the face of her exhaustion. “Any time you cast a spell or use your magic, you lose some of it either to what you’re doing, or it leaks out into the world. Think of it like training a muscle – you keep lifting until you can’t, and then the next time to use the muscle, you’ll find you can go just that much further.”
These training sessions she dreaded the most – they were exhausting. They were also the most regular, occurring roughly every three days. On one memorable occasion, Flo directed three such lessons in a row. The one consolation she had was that these lessons were always held in the safety of the warded room in the basement of Portland Row, so she never had too far to go to collapse in bed afterwards. It seemed to make Lockwood worry about her too. Each time he fussed over her, hovering in the peripheries where she could not see him, but he could still keep close tabs on her every breath.
Other times Flo worked on teaching her spells that manifested magic in a physical force able to move objects. By the fourth such lesson, she realized that she had managed it before without a spell, the first time she was attacked by that Rampager.
Flo did not seem surprised when she said as much. “I figured you’d have managed it at some point on your own,” she said, “A pressure blast is pretty basic magic. It’s not too different from when I get you to drain your magic – you just use more at once than I let you during those lessons.”
She realized quickly that spells and magic words made trying new things easier, but they were not necessary for after she got the hang of things.
Flo taught her how to tune into the instincts her magic granted her – useful for figuring out if someone she met was a vampire, or claimed by one. She learned some basic healing of minor scrapes and bruises, defensive magic, how to charge runes with her magic to make them more powerful, and the differences between good and bad magic.
Flo did not let her try magic identification again for a couple weeks. They stayed in the warded room at home, both of them sitting facing each other with two charms sitting between them.
“Alright Love,” started Flo, “You’ve got a bit better control under your belt now, so I think we can try this out again. One of these charms carries a positive blessing, the other one a mischievous one. I want you to figure out which is which, and what each of the blessings is for exactly, if you can.”
The two objects before her looked almost identical. They were both smooth grey stones, clearly plucked from some shoreline in Flo’s daily relic-hunts. Flo might have enchanted each of them herself with runes, for precisely this purpose.
She took a deep breath, and keeping her eyes open, she reached out with her magic for the stone on the left. Pushing magic past her skin was much easier now than it had been that first time. She felt almost no resistance as it moved upwards, hissing like a geyser until it escaped the barrier of her skin. She made sure to leash it so it would not slip away from her, and then directed it towards the first stone. Making contact flooded her mind with the wild cackling of a mad old scientist. She would not have been surprised to find Frankenstein’s monster carved on the face of the stone currently on the floor. It felt gross and sticky, and she flinched back, drawing her magic back to her core in shock.
“That one’s the bad one,” she stuttered, pointing at it with a shaking finger, “I heard cackling.”
Flo regarded her silently. “You feel like you’ve just been tarred and feathered, don’t you Love?” she asked.
She could only gulp in response, continuing to eye the stone in trepidation.
“Of course you’d be sensitive to dark magic,” mumbled Flo, as if to herself, “Leave that one till after then. Tell me what you can find out about the second one.”
Feeling relieved, she moved onto the second stone. This time when she made contact, she heard a songbird singing on a warm summer day. By now, she knew better than to envelope herself in the sounds. It was tempting in this instance, the simple beauty of the songbird calming and pleasant. But enveloping yourself in the feel of any magic left you open to it in a way you could permanently loose yourself to. Instead, she stayed back while she listened, keeping a respectful distance. She focussed on the sounds she was hearing.
“Can you hear the magic on the stone?” asked Flo.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Alright. Good. Now, I want you to peel the sound back. Find the information hidden underneath it, and try to read it.”
She took a breath and closed her eyes, trying to do as she was told. For a long while, it did not seem like anything was happening. Every time she tried to grasp the sounds coming from the stone, they seemed to twist away from her, dancing in laughter at the game. She kept dashing around in chase, never getting any closer. Sweat was starting to bead on her brow. This was harder than purposefully draining all her magic – that at least, was easy until she got down to her last dregs of power. This was like a game of chess where someone kept walking up and shaking the board, completely moving where every piece was located without knocking any of them off entirely. She pulled back to regroup, ears still full of a songbird’s voice.
Maybe the sound itself was part of the key she was searching for. What kind of magic could make such a beautiful, soft sound? It suddenly felt like the sound itself was the shell of an egg, and she had managed to form a hairline fracture in the delicate enclosure. Songbirds were a feature of summer days, warmth and light. They were happy and pleasant, and joyful. The eggshell cracked, before falling open into two perfect halves on either side. The songbird continued to sing. And oh, there was what she was looking for.
“It’s a magic charged rune for bringing good fortune,” she declared as she opened her eyes. Her magic crashed back into her breast as she did.
Flo gave her an approving nod. “And what about the first one? Do you think you can give that one another try?”
She eyed the thing nervously.
“It’s not anything dangerous,” soothed Flo, “I made sure it amounted to nothing more than an annoying prankster.”
“Ok,” she breathed, “I’ll try it again.”
“Be careful with this one Love,” cautioned Flo. “Based on how you reacted earlier, you’re sensitive to magic that had negative intentions. It’s going to clash harshly with your own power, so you have to remember to keep your defences up.”
She nodded in understanding. Taking a deep breath to focus, she reached out once again to the first stone. Cackling filled her mind again, but she was ready for it this time. Flo had taught her how to shield her magic from influence from others. It was rare that magicals had reason to fight each other, but every once in a while, some Covenist would manage to win one’s loyalty. Protecting herself and her magic from outside influences was an important skill to have. She weathered the barrage from the stone, refusing to give in to it. She imagined the egg again, only a brown one this time instead of a fresh white. She cracked the shell, and the cackling rose in pitch as if it was angry. She pressed on, forced the two halves of the shell apart and revealed the things she was looking for hidden within.
“It’s a curse to make anyone who has to stone in their possession trip constantly,” she said. She blinked open her eyes to find Flo giving her an impressed look.
“Well done Love,” praised Flo, “You’re two for two now.”
Chapter 35
Notes:
Remember how I said some other chapters were really long? Well...this is the first one that's almost cracked 4000 words all by it's lonesome. I started with fluff, then when into that immersive stuff that makes my skin tingle when I read it, then I seemed to have ended it all with the absolute best kind of crack! hilarity I think I've seen in a while. Enjoy ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
At some point in the last few weeks Lockwood had started to join her and George in the kitchen for meals. He never had anything other than a steaming cup of tea, but he seemed to enjoy himself anyway. Not long after the morning routine developed whereby she would get up, brush her teeth and wash her face, and come downstairs still mused from sleep in her pajamas for breakfast. She would plop herself down in her usual place, and Lockwood would set a fresh plate of buttered toast and cup of tea down in front of her. It maybe took her half a week to figure out that it was actually Lockwood making the tea and toast, not George. She blamed the early morning for it.
She blinked her still sleep-gummed eyes at him the morning she noticed. “Thought you were banned from cooking?” she said as she hid a yawn behind her hand.
“He’s been upgraded to setting the toaster under supervision with the condition he burns nothing but the toast,” answered George without looking up from the book he had his nose buried in.
“I did that one time,” whined Lockwood as he shot George a sour look. “My toast is fine. Isn’t that right Luce?”
She was only half paying attention as she munched. “What?” she asked.
Lockwood shot her as dazzling a smile as he could while still keeping his lips firmly closed. “You like the toast, don’t you Luce?”
She hummed absent-mindedly as she continued to eat. “S’crunchy,” she said. The point was proved a second latter by taking her next bite.
George did not bother to hide his snort of amusement at Lockwood’s crestfallen look. “Mate, if you’re looking for Lucy to give you a proper critics review of your toast-making skills, you might want to ask when it’s not first thing in the morning.”
Still not really paying attention she continued to munch happily. “S’good. Crunchy buttery toast,” she mumbled.
George fled the room trying to hold in his laughter after that. Idly, she mused that Lockwood looked less pale than usual this morning.
…
It was only after she was half-way through her second cup of tea that she was awake enough to grasp what had just happened.
Lockwood did in fact ask again if she liked her breakfast.
She told him she had grown attached to the smell of burned toast, and would be quite sad if it was not there the next morning.
Lockwood continued to look less pale than usual while he busied himself with clearing away the dishes.
…
She was chasing after the sound of a giggling child. While her body sat in the warded room of the basement, her magic was currently exploring the world contained under the surface of an iron broach. It sat unyielding and cold in her hand, her thumb brushing back and forth across its surface, following the pitter patter of little feet as they evaded her. But the point of a game of chase is laughter, more so than it is to catch. So she laughed in joy as she followed the sound, and it opened its secrets to her.
The broach was made of wrought iron, braided and shaped by the hand of a man – a blacksmith – from some time long gone. It protected against dark things of the night. Against vampires. But vampires were only the symptom of the disease the broach guarded against. And innocence is what it meant to protect.
“The broach is…forged in the image of a rune…that wards off soulless creatures…it takes strength from purity…the blacksmith who made it. It was for his son who liked to make all the plants around him grow. The runes protection grows in strength the more its exposed to plant-helping magic.”
She opened her eyes and looked down at the broach in her hand, giving it a soft smile. The sound of a child’s laughter grew fainter in her mind as she drew her magic back towards her core. When all she could hear was the muffled sound of snows billowing silence, she blinked herself back to the waking world and looked to Flo.
Magic identification had worked its way into the constantly changing stream of lessons from Flo. They were still rare – this only being the third one they had done, but she was making good progress.
“That’s…more’n I thought you’d get Love,” commented Flo. She was watching her with a keen-eyed contemplation. “You’re right about what the magic does, and where it gets its strength. How’d you know it was a bloke who made it though? Or that it was for his son?”
She scratched behind her head self-consciously. “It just…I could feel it. The man left the imprint of his intentions on it, and the magic remembered what he’d wanted it to do.”
Flo blew out a breath, but her eyes remained sharp. “Well,” she mused, “Guess magic does always remember.”
Lucy passed back the broach and Flo squirreled it away somewhere inside her long, mud-stained coat. With all the pockets that seemed to line the inside of the thing, she’d not be surprised if she found out that Flo kept a pocket dimension in one of them, so she could hide away anything she needed within easy reach.
Flo’s joints creaked as she stood and stretched. “Guess we’ll call it quits for the day then,” she said. “Seein as how you did better’n I did with the thing.”
“Sorry?” she offered, wondering if Flo was offended in some way by this.
“Don’t be sorry,” ordered Flo, shaking her head. “Be stupid to be mad about it. You’ve got way more magic’n I do. If you weren’t doing better’n I can, I’d be worried.”
They traipsed upstairs and into the library. Flo strolled in like she owned the place, heading straight for the little jar filled with Geroge’s fresh biscuits to steal some. “You want any?” offered Flo, waving a couple in the air.
Lucy looked longingly at the jar. “Can’t,” she sighed. “I’ve already had one since George left for DSRAC. I’m not allowed another one ‘till he has one again. He calls it the house ‘biscuit rule’; nobody’s allowed a second biscuit until everyone has had their one from the latest rotation.”
Flo threw a cheeky wink over her shoulder. “In that case, I’ll take three of these for myself then,” she chirped as she grabbed said handful of biscuits.
“Hey!” she barked, “Put two of those back! I’ll be the one to get in trouble when George comes back and finds an extra three biscuits missing!”
“Don’t worry about it Luce, I’ll vouch for you,” said Lockwood as he glided into the room. He took his usual seat in front of the fireplace, shooting her his signature thin-lipped smile. “George knows Flo was here. It won’t be too hard to convince him what happened.”
Flo snorted indelicately as she munched her biscuits. “Hate to break it to you Locky,” she called, “But George might find you a tad biased in this situation.” She chuckled to herself as she polished off the second of her pilfered biscuits. “Might be harder to convince him than you think.”
“I can’t image why he would,” answered Lockwood while shooting Flo a challenging look.
She only smiled at him, crumbs covering her face. “Course you can’t Locky,” she chuckled, “Forget I said anything.”
Flo waved as she made her way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow there Love,” she called over her shoulder. “Be ready. Can’t put it off anymore. We’ll start building your resistance to black magic tomorrow.”
“You’re doing that in the house,” cut in Lockwood from his place in front of the fire. “That’s too dangerous to do somewhere unprotected.”
“Was actually thinkin of using one of training rooms at DSRAC headquarters for it Locky. I’m no good at magic healin myself. That way they’d be on hand ‘case somethin happened,” offered Flo.
Lockwood seemed to struggle with himself or a moment before letting out a long breath. “That would probably be best,” he breathed.
“Is something likely to go wrong?” she asked before anyone could move on. For the most part, Flo had kept her away from any negative magic – had explained it to her, and shown her how to recognize it when someone was directing it towards her. But the closest she had been allowed to any magic with negative intentions was that trick-stone from their first magic identification lesson. She still remembered the nasty, sticky, cloying sensation she got from the stone – even though it was not anything harmful, and just tripped its unwary possessor.
Flo stopped at the doorway and turned back to face her. “Your real sensitive to magic Love,” she said. “I don’t think it matters how slow we take it, you’re still probably gonna end up getting physically ill at some point before you master protecting yourself.”
“Joy,” she murmured.
“It’s better for you in the long run,” offered Lockwood. “Much safer to build your resistance in a controlled situation than have to worry about it when your being attacked.”
She fiddled with the dog-eared edge of her little sketchbook sitting on the table next to her. “…Guess you guys are right.”
Flo waved as she left, and Lucy settled down to work on a drawing of the lavender bush in the backyard she had been working on. She smiled softly as she pulled out the tin container of high-quality watercolour pencils. Her drawing habit had not gone unnoticed by either Geroge or Lockwood. The latter presented her with the set of coloured pencils after seeing her graphite drawings. “I’d love to see what you could do with some better supplies,” he had said when she opened his present. “Your drawings are already beautiful, of course. But that little nub of a pencil will only last you so long. And now you can add in some colours, if you want to.”
She was busy shading in the shadows beneath the bush when they heard Flo call from the front hallway. “Looks like Georgie’s home early!”
When she glanced up at Lockwood to make a comment on how George had not been gone for very long, she stopped short. Lockwood was frozen in his seat, shoulders tense and expression alert. “It’s not only George at the door,” he whispered.
She sprang up and launched herself towards the hallway just as she heard the key turn in the lock on the door. By the time she looked back, Lockwood was replaced with his bird form, and he was flying over to stand atop the little gilded cage in the corner of the room she had never understood the need for. Well, at least now she understood.
“Georgie!” called Flo exuberantly as the door swung open. “And…Inspector!” The second part was said in a higher pitch than anything she had ever heard from Flo before.
Inspector Barnes regarded Flo with his usual stone-faced indifference as he crossed the threshold and the front door closed behind him. George was to the side, scuffing his shoes worriedly on the mat before taking them off. He shot a piercing look towards her, eyes silently questioning if Lockwood was safely hidden away somewhere.
Surreptitiously, she shot a look over her shoulder. Bird-Lockwood sat atop the cage with his beak tucked under a wing, looking for all the world like a regular pet bird sleeping the day away. When she turned back, she tried to give George as reassuring a look as she could without cluing in Barnes that something was amiss.
“Miss Bonnard,” greeted Barnes in what might in someone else have been surprise. “So you’re the one Karim roped into teaching Carlyle then.”
He made no indication if this was something he approved of or not. Lucy found that something inside herself was whispering that Barnes was relieved anyway.
“Perhaps you should join us, Bonnard. I’ve been meaning to have a conversation with Carlyle regarding her training for some time now. You’re input would be appreciated.”
George seemed to make an effort to act normal as he drew Barnes’ attention. “Sitting room’s through there,” he said pointing. “I’m sure Flo can show you the way. Lucy, can you come to the kitchen with me and help with tea and biscuits?”
“Sure,” she offered as Flo ushered Barnes away. Only once they were safely ensconced in the kitchen with the door closed did she risk demanding her answers. “Why on earth did you bring Barnes to the house!?” she demanded in a hurried whisper.
“He insisted,” defended George. “Wouldn’t hear it when I said I could bring you with me to headquarters tomorrow. He was determined to come here to the house. I couldn’t convince him otherwise.”
“What are we going to do about…our friend?” she worried. She clenched her hands to stop them trembling as she set the teapot onto the tray – she did not want to draw attention to the fact by letting Barnes hear her making it rattle.
George cleaned his glasses hesitantly on the hem of his shirt. “He’ll be fine as long as he stays out of the way and doesn’t draw any attention to himself.”
Lucy gave him a horrified look.
George grimaced at her as he replaced his glasses. “Ok. He’ll be fine as long as he acts like a normal bird the whole time.”
She continued to look horrified at him.
“Come on,” George urged, “If we take much longer, Barnes might start to get suspicious.”
They traipsed back out to the sitting room where Flo was lounging with her mud-stained wellingtons propped up on a footstool. Barnes was giving her a disapproving look.
Barnes murmured his thanks as she dished out the tea and biscuits. They all sat quietly drinking their tea for several heartbeats before Barnes placed his cup on the table and fixed them all with his usual expressionless stare. “Well then, Miss Carlyle. I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about. I’ve come to give you an update on DSRAC’s investigation into your suspicious lack of involvement with us in the past. The incident that occurred in your hometown, which subsequently prompted you to move to London was, as I’m sure you’ve been informed by now, the work of a vampire. The team I sent out has filed their confirmation that they were able to identify and eliminate the threat – they will cause no one else the same harm they did you.”
She breathed a sigh of relief at the news. It was something that had been bothering her. She had not been certain what she should hope for.
“I can also confirm for you that the vampire was a newly turned borderline Rampager. My team was, unfortunately, unable to determine who might have turned him.”
‘He is unhappy about his teams report’, whispered her magic to her. ‘He suspects there was more going on, and he’s watching the men he sent carefully now.’ Lucy tried to school her expression as Barnes watched her.
“Thank you,” she breathed when she could. “I’m…glad no one else can get hurt now…”
But she was not really as happy about it as she could be. That there was a newly turned vampire set upon her – somehow it felt staged now. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of black feathers through the door to the hall.
George scowled into his tea, trying to hide his sudden tension. Yes, Lockwood was definitely going to lay low and not draw any attention to himself; because he never did anything reckless at all.
“Been weeks since the team dispatched, hasn’t it?” asked Flo, twirling a biscuit between her fingers with a frown on her face. “They should have some idea who turned the Rampager by now.”
Barnes breathed deliberately before he answered. ‘He agrees with her,’ her magic whispered.
“They have not been able to find any solid leads thus far. Since they have dispatched the initial threat, my superiors have directed me to call them back.”
“Dispatching a Rampager should not have any bearing on the team’s directive,” cut in George with an edge to his voice. “Someone still had to turn the Rampager in the first place. The threat is not, therefore dealt with, because the root cause has still not been addressed.”
“Be that as it may, Karim,” said Barnes briskly. “The decision has been taken out of my hands. The team has hit a dead end. We cannot afford to waste resources. Not now that a review is being undertaken of all outlying DSRAC posts. In the wake of Miss Carlyle’s experiences, we find ourselves in need of all-hands-on-deck. Several smaller covens have since been identified and dispatched in outlying regions.”
Geroge looked immeasurably unhappy about this, but decided to hold his tongue for once. He angrily devoured his biscuit in retaliation.
Barnes watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to her. “Which brings me back to my initial interest in coming here to speak with you today, Miss Carlyle. I understand from Karim that you have managed to master masking your magic, and that you found a teacher to continue your training in other areas. Given your inexperience in this area, I thought it prudent to check on your progress and learn who exactly it was you had found to expand your learning. You have been training with Miss Bonnard, I take it?”
“Yeah,” she answered, “Pretty much since I managed to completely mask my magic. L-um, George didn’t think it was safe for me to go out until I did, and I had to go meet Flo at her boat to ask her to train me.”
“And you have not had any other requests or offers to train you?” prodded Barnes.
“No,” she murmured.
George was examining Barnes with the same sharp-eyed intensity he turned to his research. “Why are you asking?”
Barnes seemed to shake off some mental parlour as he focused back in on his surroundings. If she were a gambling woman, she might have bet that he seemed relieved. “Miss Carlyle’s inexperience in magic and the supernatural, combined with the apparent strength of her abilities means that there would be many interested parties in her. I have received reports that known magic and relic dealers have moved back to the city. They would absolutely have taken advantage had they heard of you.”
George and Flo both sat up suddenly. Flo looked furious at this new information. George was sharp-eyed and focused. “The Winkman’s are back!?” he demanded while Flo proceeded to curse worse than a drunken sailor.
“You know I can’t give you a definitive answer either way to that Karim,” commented Barnes in the same even tone.
“Why are those maniacs still walkin round anyway?” growled Flo. She was clenching and unclenching her hands and vibrating as she appeared to restrain herself from launching to her feet.
“We have never been able to concretely pin any illicit activities to them,” snapped Barnes, apparently forgetting that he was supposed to neither confirm nor deny. “Unless you can give us evidence to suggest otherwise, Miss Bonnard.”
Flo snapped her mouth shut. She scowled at Barnes, looking murderous while he calmly stared back. Flo huffed an unhappy denial to the challenge and sat back muttering darkly to herself.
Barnes continued to stare her down for several seconds before he turned back to face Lucy. “I would advise you to be careful of the people you associate with, Miss Carlyle. I came here today because I was unaware of who your new teacher was, and given the situation, it was prudent to check that you were learning from someone trustworthy. As it is Miss Bonnard, I see that my trip was unnecessary. I would still urge caution to you all, regardless. Good day.”
With his piece said, Barnes stood and made for the hallway. She thought they were in the clear for one beautiful moment – and then she noticed that Barnes had stopped only two steps into the hall with a confused crease in his brow.
“I didn’t know you kept a pet bird, Karim,” he called.
George sprang up and hurled himself into the hall faster than she could blink. “YOU IDIOT!” he howled, “YOU…YOU…BIRD BRAINED IDIOT!”
Her and Flo cast each other startled looks as they watched George seize bird-Lockwood in his hands lightning fast and march away. Bird-Lockwood kept up a series of screeching caws the whole way in protest, but they did not seem to cow George’s fury in the slightest. “Shut up! I don’t care if you don’t like it, you’re not supposed to be out right now!”
There was a far-away sound of metal clanking, and then a particularly loud and aggressive CAWW from the library. “Oh, shut it! Maybe that’ll teach you for next time!” bellowed George.
Angry bird sounds continued to travel out to them from the library.
“Nobody is allowed to let him out for the next five hours!” called George as he stormed off to his room. “I don’t care how mad he is about it. If anyone lets him out early, and I mean anyone, they can cook for themselves for the next three weeks!”
His door slammed closed behind him. One last depressed sounding “CAW” sounded from the library.
Barnes watched the whole thing with a startled sort of amazement. “What…just happened?”
“Guess Georgie was mad that our little friend had flown the coup,” snickered Flo.
“Did he just…” stuttered Lucy.
“Oh, he absolutely did,” said Flo delightedly as they heard a rattling of thin metal bars drift out to them from the library.
“Where did you get a bird?” asked Barnes, now eyeing them.
Flo gave him a dazzling smile. “I was the first one to find him,” she declared. “Injured little birdy. Miss bleeding heart here insisted we keep him.”
When an annoyed sounding “CAW” came from the library, Flo’s cheshire grin only grew wider.
Barnes did not ask any more questions, but he eyed them shrewdly as he left anyway.
“Do…you think George was serious? About the not cooking?” asked Lucy when the coast was clear.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Georgie more serious in my life Love,” answered Flo. She flounced off to the library after that. “Got yourself in a real pickle there now, haven’t you Locky?”
“CAAWWW!”
Lucy hovered indecisively for a moment before fleeing upstairs to her room. She really did not want to test George when he was so furious – if he followed through on his threat, it would be awful. However much she liked her burnt toast in the morning, she was not keen to live off it and nothing else for three weeks.
Notes:
OwO
*ANGRY CAW*
🤣🐦⬛😁
Chapter 36
Notes:
Lockwood's revenge for last chapter 🫢😁 (and other things mentioned long ago)
Chapter Text
True to his word, George did not let Lockwood out of the birdcage in the library until five hours latter – and not a second earlier. Lockwood was not best pleased by the turn of events.
“Well then,” she heard Goerge say when he finally let Lockwood out. She was a half-flight of stairs up from the library checking to see if the coast was clear. “What have we learned?” he asked.
“That you’re worse for drawing attention than I am,” snarked Lockwood petulantly.
“I wish holly water actually worked on you,” countered George, “I’d keep a bottle of it on hand and spray you like a misbehaving dog any time you did something stupid.”
Neither of them spoke to the other for the rest of the day. They did exchange increasingly caustic insults with one another on the thinking cloth. Since nothing bad seemed to have come out of the entire thing, she found it all unbearably funny. She was hard pressed to contain her giggles whenever she saw a new insult added to the running stream that developed in a blank section of the cloth.
…
She should have known that thinking cloth insults would not be the end of it, and that Lockwood would try to get his own back. The next morning she woke very suddenly to the smell of smoke and the sound of an alarm going off somewhere in the bowels of the house.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” she heard George bellow.
She was currently rushing to find a pair of socks and a jacket so she could get to safety outside the house. George must have been very mad. His screech was loud enough that he could have been in the room with her, but she knew he would be down in the kitchen.
“YOU DICK” howled George, “I DON’T CARE WHAT I IMPLIED YOU DID TO MAKE ARIF’S SAFER, THIS IS NOT AN ACCEPTIBLE RESPONSE!”
She opened her window before making her way quickly down the stairs with her sleeve covering her face. The smell of smoke permeated the whole house, growing in strength as she descended. The mere fact that George was still screaming his head off at Lockwood and not running for cover cooled some of her initial panic. If the house really was burning down, George would be smart enough to leave the building before starting into his rant.
She did not bother trying to go into the kitchen – instead she slipped as quickly as she could out the front door, hearing sirens blaring in the distance and coming closer. She’d go to Arif’s to get something for breakfast today. Hopefully the boys will have worked out most of their issues by the time she got home.
…
The bell tinkled over the door to Arif’s shop as she pushed it open. She was barely inside before Laura was mauling her for a desperate hug. “Oh, Lucy!” she enthused, “Whatever is happening out there? Where are all the sirens going?”
“Portland Row,” came her answer as she returned the embrace.
Laura clutched at her more closely. “Oh, how awful! Is it bad?” she worried.
She managed to extricate herself from Laura’s embrace and take a step back. “I don’t think so,” she mused. “The boys are having an argument, and one of them is just trying to get back at the other for something that happened between them yesterday in the most chaotic way possible. It was probably just a pan fire made to make as much smoke as possible to set off the alarm, but not actually burn the house down.”
Laura could only stare at her in bewilderment.
She smiled sheepishly back at her. “I’d still like to avoid the house as much as possible today,” she continued. “Has Arif finished anything good I can grab for breakfast?”
Not seeming to have anything to say to her frankly bewildering explanation, Laura bustled off to check what had come out of the ovens by this point. Arif made his appearance to grab a hug of his own not long after.
“Little Missy,” he called, “What’s this I hear from Laura that those boys are trying to get back at each other by burning your house down?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I think he was just making a scene,” she explained, “I don’t think he’d actually let it get that out of hand.”
“Seems pretty out of hand to me already.”
“Yeah. I’m going to have to sit them both down and demand they stop being so stupid at some point. I’ll wait for the firemen to clear the house though.”
Arif did not seem to know what to do with this information any more than Laura did. He was only too happy to let her bum around the store for the day though. She’d give the boys the day to cool down, and then smack some sense into them tonight.
Flo found her at the store latter in the day. She was in stitches when she walked in the door, her eyes watering from how hard she was laughing. Flo managed to hiccough herself into silence for long enough to allow introductions – apparently Arif had never actually seen her before.
“Do you think it’s safe to go back yet?” she asked a while after Flo managed to calm down.
“Not yet Love. Georgie is livid. Barnes actually showed up at some point. ‘Parently Georgie told him his mystery friend came by to make breakfast for everyone and failed miserably before hightailing it to safety. Don’t know if Barnes actually believed him, but the house is still intact, just with a bit of smoke damage to the ceiling in the kitchen, so he didn’t press as hard as he could’ve for a better explanation.”
Flo kept randomly bursting into cackles for the rest of the day, which only ended up setting her off too. They decided they would present a united front when they ventured back into the trenches to smack some sense into those boys. No lessons happened that day, they were both too distracted to focus enough. Instead, they enjoyed Arif’s wonderful baking while they debated the best way to force a cease-fire back home.
…
Thankfully, there was no permanent damage to the kitchen after Lockwood’s revenge prank on George. Mostly, things just needed a good solid scrubbing to get rid of the smell of smoke that still clung to them. An old pan that was rusted and never actually used any more was the single true casualty – sporting a crack from heat stress right down the middle.
It was decided by her and Flo that, as the perpetrator of the act, Lockwood would be the one to clean everything up. George was not allowed to hover over his shoulder and direct the clean-up as he wanted. Instead, the task was given to Flo. She drove Lockwood as mercilessly as a drill sergeant. While that was happening, Lucy sat and commiserated with George about Lockwood’s recklessness. She pointed out that blowing up any time he noticed Lockwood letting someone see him was counter-productive if they wanted nobody to notice him. Yes, it still would have been weird to have a random pet bird all of a sudden, but Goerge’s outburst in front of Barnes had made it worse.
George’s furry cooled the longer she took to calmly and logically state her arguments that he had not done the smartest thing either. “Your right,” he breathed as he slumped forward. “It would be better if nobody ever saw him at all, but that’s not actually practical. At least if Barnes thinks he’s a magical shifter – or even just a pet bird, it’s not dangerous. I don’t like him taking chances.”
“I know you don’t,” she soothed, “To be honest, I don’t think I like it much either. But he’s lasted how long without us? Hundreds of years? He at least has some idea of what he’s doing.”
George grumbled his acquiescence. “Do you know why he’s so reckless with himself?” he asked after a long moment of silence.
“I haven’t really thought about it all that much,” she realized. “I guess it’s just because he’s got all these super-human abilities, he doesn’t think about the risks to himself as much as he maybe should.”
“It’s not just that,” sighed Georged. He took his glasses off and cleaned the hem of his shirt before replacing them again. “That certainly doesn’t help matters. It’s that…I looked him up in as many records as I could find when he first contacted me. His parents were killed by vampires…the same night that he and his sister went missing and were presumably turned. He remembers dying in front of them all, but nothing else.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Can’t you guess?” asked George. “I guess you can’t really. He can only guess at what he did as a Rampager. All he knows is his parents died by vampires, the same night he became one.”
She watched George with a sense of dawning horror in her gut. “He’s reckless because he doesn’t care if he lives or dies,” murmured George. His eyes were far away. “I’ve told him he can’t possibly blame himself for what happened back then, but you know what he’s like. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s the only hope his sister has for a cure, I think he’d have let himself be killed a long time ago.”
They were both silent after that. “Are you still mad at him?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ll forgive him?”
“He’s banned from touching anything in my kitchen for the next month.”
“Even the toaster?” she asked with a hint of a smile.
“Especially the toaster,” grumbled George. “He never usually touches anything else anyway. It’s not a punishment otherwise.”
“And you’ll be more careful with your mother-hening from now on?” she prodded.
“And I’ll be more careful with mother-hening in future,” sighed George.
She nodded, satisfied with that at least. Everything else would require more time to parse through, but at least a truce had been reached and a tentative peace restored.
…
By the time the kitchen was habitable again, Flo has seemed to talk some sense into Lockwood. He agreed to never set the kitchen on fire again – something everyone else made sure he knew was non-negotiable – and agreed to keep the number of people who saw him to an absolute minimum. But Barnes had already seen his bird-form. At least they now had an excuse for him being around like that. George pointed out that they could not call their new “pet” Lockwood’s actual name. Lockwood warily agreed, even when everyone else set about brainstorming names.
“My vote is for ‘Pecker Nuisance’,” declared George.
“Absolutely not,” grumbled Lockwood. He gave George a wounded look.
George scowled at him and crossed his arms, making no further comment. He may have agreed to let go his grudge eventually, but it clearly would not be happening today.
“How’bout ‘Tony’?” interjected Flo.
“No,” snapped Lockwood with surprising vehemence.
George suddenly looked uncomfortable. Lockwood refused eye contact with anyone and said nothing further.
She cleared her throat in an effort to break the tension. “What about ‘Lock’?” she asked, “Or maybe… ‘Suit’? If we want it to sound more like an actual pet’s name.”
Everyone seemed to consider her suggestion.
After a moment, George nodded to himself. “ ‘Lock’ would be too likely to tip Barnes off to things we don’t want him to find out about,” commented George. “…But ‘Suit’ might not be a bad idea. Normal enough, given how you look when you transform.”
“I…am not entirely opposed to the idea,” offered Lockwood.
Flo clapped her hands. “Brilliant! Locky’s ‘Suit’ now. I’m going to have fun with this!”
Lockwood groaned. She only smiled at him. “It’s your own fault for letting Barnes see you, you know.”
Chapter 37
Notes:
Hmm, things seem to be getting a little more interesting again. Flo's got some kind of beef cooking, and Lucy's now graduated to learning how to fight.
Chapter Text
It took a few days, but eventually things between the boys cooled down again. That being said, George did not let up on his condition of Lockwood being banned from touching anything in the kitchen for a month. It meant he was relegated to toast-making duty in the mornings – though, she now had to butter it herself. Even without that, it threw a wrench into her morning routine. She did not say anything about it to George. Lockwood was particularly put out by it all; but that was likely the point George had been trying to make.
In the intervening time, Flo doubled down on any and all protective or defensive skills in their magic lessons. The day after the pan fire incident, Flo showed up just as George was leaving for DSRAC headquarters, and they all went together. Heaven only knew when she found the time for it, but Flo had apparently talked with Barnes about training her in magic resistance.
“S’not a good idea to keep anything charged with dark magic sittin around on my boat Love,” she explained. “Some things are hard to destroy, or impossible to, so DSRAC keeps them locked away. I needed Barnes’ permission to get out some of the tamer stuff so we could work on your resistance.”
Flo spent the day throwing various objects charged with trickster magic at her. It was not quite dark magic, but it did not have good intentions. The objects were all small things – a shoelace that made you trip every time you were not looking, an envelope that gave everyone who touched it a papercut, a hairband that always pulled too tight. She spent the day listening to unhinged cackling, nails scraping on a chalkboard, metal scraping against metal. Every object Flo brought out made her feel sticky and like she needed a bath. Her first instinct was always to draw away, to curl up inside her centre with the comforting silence of her snow-blanketed power. But the grating sounds always seemed able to follow. She did not even need to touch them to be overwhelmed by sensations.
“You can’t just run away from it Lucy,” called Flo after the paper-cut-envelope made her reel back with a strangled gasp. “Black magic is jealous – once it finds you, it’ll try and follow you wherever you go. You’ve got to feel it – sense it, know exactly where it is, and then burn it’s touch off yourself so it doesn’t try to follow you.”
“I…don’t want to do this anymore…” she panted wiping sweat from her forehead.
“I know you don’t Love,” soothed Flo, even as she brought out yet another object. “But that’s exactly why we’ve got to do this. None of these things is particularly powerful. Imagine what it’d be like with something that is.”
Shakily, she climbed back into the chair at the table where Flo placed the next object. She reached for the hairbrush, and was again assaulted by that sticky feeling. This time it was accompanied by the sound of dead, dry skin scraping against silken fabric. Ah, this one was for making your scalp itch any time you used the brush.
“You’ve got to make a barrier between it and yourself,” instructed Flo, “Something hot, or bright, or warm – all the things that dark magic hates. That’s your armour against the magic sinking it’s claws into you.”
Flo coached her through building her defences. They experimented, trying to find the thing that would work for her. By lunch time they figured it out – she could defend herself from the sticky feeling, if not the awful sounds by calling up a hissing wall of steam to surround her core with.
The very long lunch-break they took did little to rejuvenate her. The feelings the objects had given her refused to leave her alone. Her skin was cold and covered in salt from sweating. Her head ached something fierce.
When Flo resumed the lesson, it was the first time she seriously dreaded it. She did not want anything to do with any of these objects anymore. Thankfully, Flo seemed to know that already. She did not pull out another one to resume the torture. Rather, Flo started into showing her how to get black magic off herself in times when it managed to slip through her defences.
She found an underlying buzzing that permeated every unbearable sound she heard. It was clinging to the peripheries of her core of power. Flo showed her how to wrench it out and purge the wound left in its wake. When all she was left with was the whispering silence of a winter’s day, Flo finally called a stop.
George had appeared at some point to wait for them. She was a little unsteady on her feet from everything they had done. At least now she did not feel like someone had dumped an entire cup of pop over her head, and then lock her outside under the heat of the sun with no way to clean the sticky goo off. Her head still hurt, but not like it did.
Looking over her with a critical eye, George sighed. “You pushed her too hard Flo. She wasn’t ready for that much black magic all at once.”
Flo grimaced as she cast a look back her way. “Had to be done Georgie,” she sighed, “She needs to practice. Specially with those Winkman goons sniffin around town again.”
She rubbed tiredly at her temples wondering idly where Flo’s animosity was coming from. Her head really did hurt.
“Come on Lucy,” called George. “You should go see Dr. Bowman before we go home. He’ll be able to get rid of that headache for you.”
“How’d you know I’ve got a headache?” she mumbled.
Flo watched her sadly. “Love, if you was tryin to hide it, you’re doin a pretty shit job.”
As much as she wanted too, she did not argue while they herded her off to the doctor. A couple aspirin and the uncomfortable feeling of someone pocking and prodding at her soul latter, her headache began to fade and she felt normal again.
Lockwood would not let her out of his sight when they finally did get home. “You should not have pushed her so hard Flo,” he admonished sternly. “She’s never had any training in this before.”
“S’why I had to push, Locky,” grumbled Flo, “The Winkman’s are back. You can’t tell me they wouldn’t take advantage of her sensitivity if they found her.”
Lockwood breathed out a heavy sigh. “No, I suppose I can’t.” He fussed over her exhausted form, tucking a fuzzy wool blanket around her where she collapsed on the couch. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Flo. “You know I won’t let them touch you, Flo. They’ll never get to you again.”
Flo turned her face away from everyone else, stance rigid. “Thanks, Locky,” she said after clearing her throat. She fled the room with rushed goodbyes.
Lockwood sighed, running a hand through his hair. He sat heavily at her feet in the available space left on the couch. A comforting hand landed on her knee and gave it a small squeeze.
“What was that?” she asked sleepily.
“What was what?” countered George from his usual armchair. He had taken up one of his comic books and was settling in to read some before starting supper.
“Flo,” she mumbled, “She’s been funny today…more frantic? Or…focused…”
“I think that’s a question best posed to Flo, Luce,” offered Lockwood. “She has her own reasons for disliking the Winkman’s. Don’t worry about in now. You should rest.”
She hummed in answer. Her fingers curled around the soft blanket, tugging it in closer to her chin. She wondered over how much better she felt now that she was home. When Lockwood started fussing and settled her down on the couch, she noticed what felt like a spark of light in the back of her mind. It was there and then gone as he tucked her in, and left her feeling sleepy, but good. She was warm and comfortable.
…
Lucy sat doodling on the thinking cloth. Flo’s latest lesson had been another grueling one – today they set up shop in the warded room and Flo had her maintain a protective shield of power around herself as she pounded on it with her own magic. It was a strange sensation, different from when she used magic normally, or felt for it in other things. The sound of roaring waves crashing through her veins permeated everything. Every time Flo threw a new blast of power her way, she felt the noise change and become muffled as her head was suddenly plunged underwater. Everything always came back feeling louder than before when she broke the surface to take a breath, her magic continuing to churn around her protectively.
Her shield had not once faltered – something which earned perhaps the most genuine praise she had ever received from Flo thus far. She was bone-tired now, but that was beside the point. She had held her own.
Idly flicking her pen through her fingers, she cursed as she lost her grip and it flew out of reach. She could stand up and reach for it – it was not that far away. But that would take more energy than she was currently willing to spend. Instead, she planted an elbow on the table, her chin landing in her hand a second latter as she closed her eyes with a tired sigh.
“…you should show her how to throw off vampires,” she heard Flo voice echo through the door.
It sounded like she was standing just outside the kitchen. Whoever she was talking to shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t thin that’s –”
“Come on Locky,” drawled Flo impatiently. “S’not like I’m telling you to actually try and bite her, you nitwit.”
There was more agitated shifting.
“ – Lord knows you’d never do that,” pressed Flo, “But who else is she going to find to spar with that’s got your strength or speed? Don’t you think it’d be good for her to learn what she can do to get a vampire off her before they sink their teeth in?”
Agitated shifting sounded. “I’ll…speak to her about it.”
“Sure you will Locky,” sighed Flo.
…
Lockwood did not speak to her about it. George brought it up for him, later that night at supper. “I think Flo’s got the right idea,” argued George at Lockwood’s warning. “Lucy, you’re doing great with your magic, and you’re learning to hone your senses must faster than average. But all that will only get you so far. It’s a good idea to learn what you can do when everything else fails. And Lockwood, I know you’re not comfortable with it, but you are the best person for her to train with, because you actually are a vampire.”
Lockwood sat stiffly, refusing to make eye contact. His lips were pressed harshly together in a frustrated frown. George stared him down and calmly waited for his rebuttal. None came.
“Lockwood?” she called, wanting him to look at her.
He breathed heavily for a heartbeat before turning.
“I trust you,” she stated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
…
The next time she was not too tired after her lesson with Flo, Lockwood and her went down to the basement. “Are you sure you’re alright with this Luce?” he asked. He was fidgeting in agitation several feet away.
She breathed in and pulled herself up as tall as she could go, lifting her chin to him in defiance. “I’m sure. I want to know how to protect myself.”
“Ok,” he whispered.
Training with Lockwood as a vampire was very different from training with him as a swordsman. As the later, he was confident, direct – he watched her every move and walked her through how to shift through every stance in perfect tandem to execute it properly. As a vampire, he did not want to go anywhere near her, let alone touch her. He danced around her for a full 45 minutes before she had enough.
“Stop!” she ordered. Lockwood froze immediately, instantly giving her back her space. “No,” she grumbled, “Stop doing that!” she snapped, pointing a finger at him.
“Luce, I’m sorry if I –”
She threw up her hands, cutting him off mid sentence. “You’re still doing it! I’m not glass Lockwood; I’m not going to break if you breathe near me!”
He stood there like a startled deer in headlights, blinking at her. “I don’t breathe.”
She glowered at him and lashed out to give him a good smack. He danced away from her before she could even touch him.
“You see!” she growled, once again pointing an accusing finger at him. “This whole time we’ve been down here, you’ve avoided getting anywhere near me. How am I supposed to learn anything from that? You’re not even trying! Now stop being such a wet noodle and attack me! I’m not scared of you Lockwood!”
He continued to blink at her through the ringing silence that filled the space after her rant. She tapped her foot in agitation, waiting. Seconds ticked by and nothing happened. “Are we going to do this or not?” she challenged.
In the blink of an eye, Lockwood had moved and was grabbing her from behind. She did not need to think as he pressed his face towards her – mouth still firmly closed. She threw out her hands and pushed away with all her might. They stood there like that for a trembling moment, frozen in time.
“…You’re really not scared of me,” came a strangled kind of whisper from over her shoulder. “I startled you, but you’re not scared. Your heartrate barely rose at all.” He sounded as awed as someone just offered all the secrets to the universe on a silver platter.
She smacked him on the chest to get him to let her go and turned to face him. Her eyes blazed as she glared at him. “I’m not,” she asserted, “I know you won’t hurt me.”
He stopped dancing around her trying his hardest to keep his distance after that. She realized pretty quickly that if a vampire rushed her, there was nothing she could do to evade them – she couldn’t move fast enough. But Lockwood talked her through the things she could do. A slight shift here that would mean they missed the vein in her neck. A stomping foot or bonny elbow that would hurt enough to cause pause. He showed her how to lock her muscles and drop, so that she tripped up a slack grip certain it had already won, and manage to get away.
Chapter 38
Notes:
Um...guys...I'm being mean again
😁🫠🫢
Chapter Text
Flo graduated to hiding magically charged objects around the house for their lessons. She had to search them out, then discern the purpose of the magic charging them. The first time she was thrown completely off by all the protection runes marking every threshold. Each and every one of the them resonated with the faint magic they siphoned off from the worlds natural flow. It took her more than half the day to figure out how to identify the runes and tune them out as she searched for whatever Flo had hidden. She could happily say that there was not a single one she missed.
“I really thought you would not find that last one,” mused Flo when she returned to the kitchen with her spoils. A small stone engraved with a rune for luck now sat on the table.
“I almost didn’t notice it,” she admitted. “You hid it behind George’s massive book of runes. The resonance almost completely masked it. I got lucky.”
Flo huffed and rolled her eyes. “Lucks got nothin to do with it Love,” she stated as she crossed her arms. “You found it because you’re good. No other reason. Stop sellin yourself short.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Praise was not something she was used to – especially not when it was delivered in the mater-of-fact tone Flo used. She picked self-consciously at the bed of her nail for something to do while she avoided making eye contact.
Flo snorted and flicked her in the head to get her attention. “You are good at this Lucy. No use in tryin to deny it.”
She refrained from responding; something which only made Flo sigh exasperatedly at her. She could admit that she was making progress. She was not sure about anything else.
…
Her successes with Flo drew in yet another change to her daily life – namely, that George was now dragging her off every chance he got to see what she could do with general magic. While she enjoyed the puzzles he posed for her to work out, it was slightly off-putting. Being the subject of his razor-sharp focus in experimentation and research was clearly not something for the feint-hearted.
“I thought you’d be getting me to do things that would help with figuring out Lockwood’s cure,” she commented at the end of another session with him.
George had presented her with an image of some obscure old painting and told her to use magic to figure out where it was from that alone. She spent hours on false-starts, trying to work it out. She ended up telling him the original painting was is drawer 15C of section 65. He was very excited when she gave him that answer. It was well passed sundown now, and she was famished – they had not stopped for supper, and she was regretting that life decision.
“I’m waiting for Flo to train you to resist strong dark magic before I get you to do anything about that,” he answered without bothering to look away from the notepad he was frantically scribbling on.
That gave her pause. She turned back around and fixed him with a worried frown. “Why?”
“Because I have suspicions that vampires were originally created through dark magic,” he answered without looking away form his scribbling. “And I’d rather know you can protect yourself if that happens to turn out to be true than get you to try and reverse-engineer Lockwood’s cure from him and possibly open yourself up to serious harm.”
“Wait,” she hedged, “Why do you think that? What do you know?”
He finally put down his pen and gave her his full attention. “I don’t know – I just have my suspicions. Fanciful tales of supernatural beings make up some of the oldest stories, and go back much further than accepted records of true vampire sightings. But that’s exactly what they are – stories. None of them agree on what vampires are, how they work, or even how they form. Many tales say that anyone who gets bitten will turn, which is obviously not true. It was only 600 years ago that there was any agreement between different sources on how vampires work. Why would everyone suddenly start saying all the same things at the same exact time when they never had before? It suggests – though I do admit that I don’t yet have any concrete proof – that the agreements only happened because suddenly there were real-world consequences people could document, and which were repeatable between different instances. No one had any idea what was going on until Lady Marissa Fites released her writings on the matter.”
…
“We’re goin to DSRAC headquarters again today Love,” said Flo when she showed up half-way through breakfast that morning. “You’ve been doin good with everything I’ve thrown at you. It’s time to get to the big guns, and work on your resistance to proper dark magic.”
The declaration caught the attention of both Lockwood and Geroge. George surveyed the scene the same way he always did when presented with new information. She still struggled to pick out what he was actually thinking. Lockwood sat up, expression alert and gazed unflinchingly at Flo.
“Is this a good idea?” he asked in as even a voice as she thought he could.
Flo focussed in on him – currently the most obvious disparager of this plan. “You know it has to be done.”
Lockwood crossed his arms, unimpressed. He turned to her. “Do you feel ready for this Luce?” he asked.
She looked between him and Flo. She honestly did not know if she was. She had gotten much better at identifying magic, and picking out different threads of it in her surroundings. She knew how to block certain threads off – how to tune in her focus to one particular thing. It would likely be much easier to protect herself the way Flo had shown her during the last such lesson. But she knew this would be different. Flo was not talking about trickster magic – this would be the real deal. “I…think I can do it.”
“Luce,” he murmured.
Flo cut him off. “Locky, I know you’re lookin out for the girl, but you gotta let it go. She has to learn.”
“But why?” she asked. She still did not understand it. Black magic made her feel kind of awful, she knew. Why could she not simply learn to close herself off to it? “I don’t actually understand.”
“It’s necessary because black magic is insidious,” answered George before anyone else. “Most magic will not actively attach itself to you. Black magic will – it will always try and burrow directly into the heart of your core of power, and turn your natural stores dark. You can’t just put up walls to keep it out, because eventually it will find it’s way through. If you can accept black magic, it won’t actually do much harm to you. But if you can’t, it’ll make you sick. It can be bad enough to cause permanent harm – it’s even been known to kill some magicals in extreme situations.”
She blinked around at the three of them. Lockwood, with his worried frown. Flo and her grim look of determination. George with his keen eyes, assessing all information and everyone else in the room.
Lockwood sat back and cast his gaze to the ceiling. “You should tell her,” he said.
She was not sure who he was talking to; but Flo threw him a dirty look. She scratched her temple under her mud-stained straw hat and sighed. Lockwood remained staring at the ceiling. George seemed to busy himself with his notes.
“Tell me what?”
“Do you know what Barnes meant, when he said the Winkman’s were known dealers of magic?” asked Flo rather than answering.
“Doesn’t it just mean that they sell magical things on the black market?”
“That’s part of it,” murmured Flor as she readjusted her hat. “But not all of it Love. What it really means, is they kidnap magicals and sell them to the highest bidder they can find – usually vampire Covens. But not always. Sometimes they keep them for themselves.”
She watched the dark look on Flo’s face – the tension in her shoulders. “They kidnapped you, didn’t they?”
Flo’s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. “Yes,” she breathed. “But they realized I was stronger than most – and a dab hand at magic identification – so they kept me for themselves.”
The room was quiet. No one interrupted Flo as she continued.
“They grabbed me as a kid, and kept me for years. Used me to identify the things that were brought to them. Before that…my folks had been magicals, so I knew enough not to die from black magic. But I was always sick from it. The Winkman’s did it on purpose; they knew I was strong enough that I could have escaped if they didn’t weaken me somehow.”
“How did you get away?” she whispered.
“I didn’t,” came the answer.
“I found her,” cut in Lockwood, “And I got her out. I made all the Winkman’s forget that Flo ever existed. I took her to DSRAC to get her the help she needed. When they let her out, I helped her build a life for herself.”
“Why not just turn the Winkman’s into DSRAC?” she asked quietly. “Barnes said they’ve never arrested them because they don’t have any concrete evidence against them. Why hide Flo’s existence rather than nailing the Winkman’s?”
“I’d have died before DSRAC even got close,” declared Flo, “They made sure of it.”
“The Winkman’s had Flo locked in a collar enchanted to kill her if DSRAC agents got within a hundred yards of her,” explained Lockwood. “It had a fang-lock; it could only be opened if a vampire bit down on it. The constant physical contact with an object charged in that kind of black magic kept Flo sick enough to be unable to help herself. And no one would have been able to rescue her without a vampire’s aid. The only way I could help was to make sure no one remembered she existed – that no one would be looking for her if she was suddenly gone.”
She glanced over at Flo. The other girl sat rigidly, face turned away, her hands still clenched in fists. There would probably be crescent shaped marks in her palms from her nails when she finally opened her hands.
“That’s…awful. I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said.
Flo cleared her throat a bit awkwardly. “Yes, well…s’why it’s important to train you how to protect yourself against black magic. So nobody can use it to entrap you like they did me.”
The rest of breakfast proceeded in silence. George set about cooking a second course of bacon and eggs, which included enough for Flo to get a good meal out of it. The end of the food saw Lucy sat fiddling in the corner seat at the back of a cab with Flo and George. She was not looking forward to her planned lesson today; not in the slightest. But at least now she knew why it was necessary.
…
When they got to DSRAC, Flo led her to an empty training room and told her to wait while she went to get the object they would be practicing with. It was not much different from the basement at Portland Row, but it felt ominous and oppressive anyway. Maybe that was because of her own trepidation over what they would be doing though.
Flo came back carrying an iron box carved with several intricate protection runes and place it on a table nearby.
“Alright Love,” she called, “I’m not gonna open this box up ‘till I’m sure you’ve got yourself good and protected. So, come here and let’s get started.”
Together they collected their focus and raised their defences. She heard the hissing sound of stinging steam surround her core of power – an impenetrable wall of heat the black magic would hopefully not be able to breach. She raised her focus to envelope the room. The iron box itself sang like chimes in a high wind; but underneath that pleasant tinkling was the ominous buzz she associated with black magic. The box blocked the actual sound of it, but she still knew it was there. She plugged every hole she could find in her power, layering it all with hissing steam that would bite and burn anything that came near. Flo threw experimental magic her way to test her defences. Her wall of steam held firm, hissing louder with each blast she warded off.
Once she was satisfied that she was as protected as she could be, Flo opened the lid of the box. The dying screeches of hundreds of people exploded out. She got the vague sense that the magic had been intended for torture by an ancient warlord before the sound slammed into her with its full force. She felt the buzz of the black magic resound through her bones – its claws reaching out and digging in, trying to pry its way through her walls. It swarmed like angry bees when it was thwarted, circling her as it reconsidered. Terrified screams tore through her mind. She shoved against it with all her might, trying to force it away from her like Flo had shown her. The sound gnashed its teeth at her in fury, trying to rip through her power and find some kind of purchase.
The sound disappeared, and she heard Flo’s voice calling her name. When she pried open her eyes, the box was mercifully closed once again, and she was laying curled in fetal position on the ground with tears streaming down her face.
“Lucy! Come on Love, breath; you’re all right,” stuttered Flo.
She blinked up at her through bleary eyes. Her attempt to answer was forestalled when she vomited up her entire breakfast.
Chapter 39
Notes:
I'm just mentally sitting here with a bowl of popcorn, watching the show. ;)
Chapter Text
“Locky’s gonna blow his top when he finds out about this,” she heard Flo sigh.
“You literally only opened a box Flo,” commented George, “It’s not like you made her hold the thing in her bare hand.”
“May as well have, with how she reacted.”
Lucy was currently curled up and bundled in blankets in the medical wing of headquarters. She was rushed there after the disaster of that wretched box. Flo and George were currently waiting in the hall to be let in to see her. She could hear them through the door that had been left open a crack.
“You’re actually very lucky,” commented Dr. Bowman as he examined her magic, poking and prodding at what felt like her soul. “I can find no signs of any damage.”
She would have been relieved to hear him say that; but at that exact moment he brushed over a tender spot on her magic. Sucking in a sharp breath, she curled further into herself. It felt like he had just dragged sandpaper over a fresh burn. She covered her mouth with her hands and tried to hold in the pained moan threatening to burst from her.
“Oh dear,” he said, “There’s what we’ve been looking for.”
“Please…don’t do that again,” she panted.
Bowman gently held her still as she rode out the waves of static shock crashing over her senses. When her shaking subsided, he moved back towards the wall of medical equipment and supplies. He pulled a few things from various drawers and began to mix something in a small bowl-shaped cup. He added fresh water from the tap, then whispered words that made the mixture froth and bubble.
When the bubbles faded, he brought the cup over and gently coaxed her into a sitting position. “Here you are dear,” he said as he offered the strangely cool-feeling cup, “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Dutifully, she downed all the liquid as fast as she could and tried not to gag. It tasted like sweaty socks smelled coming fresh out of a shoe in the heat of summer. Instantly a cooling sensation spread over her nerves. She felt woozy and swayed as he eased her back down again.
“What…what was that?” she murmured. She suddenly felt like she was lost, drifting without purpose on the waves.
“Something to help calm your magic down so I can better examine you,” answered Bowman.
When he reached forward to do so, she flinched away. “No, don’t! I…please…”
“It’s alright dear,” he soothed, “The tonic I just gave you will stop anything from hurting, ok? I need you to stay still for me now and let me look you over.”
She managed to hold herself back from flinching again – barely. But she could not stop the terrified whimper that managed to slip out. Bowman’s magic pressed into her core again, searching for the place that had stung so much before. A cooling shiver passed over her when he found it, but no pain.
“Yes…alright…good,” muttered Bowman as he continued to feel around her magic.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally pulled back, only to tense up again when she saw him retrieve something from a tall cupboard in the corner. It was some medical device, not unlike a heart monitor screen. She could not tell if that was what it was though, or something different.
Bowman wheeled the device over next to her and began untangling the wires attached to it. “It’s all right, Miss Carlyle,” he soothed when she started breathing raggedly. “This device allows us to monitor the flow of your magic and detect surges resulting from damage. It’s not going to hurt you. This way, we can keep an eye on you without having to repeatedly invading your core, and make you uncomfortable. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I haven’t seen any damage in your magic, and as long as we don’t detect anything more with this, you’ll be able to go home sometime latter today, alright?”
The promise of going home was enough for her to allow him to attach the sensors. A few larger ones went down her spine, starting at the back of her neck and across her shoulders. A small one went on each temple, and then some along her collar bones and down her chest.
“There you are dear,” said Bowman briskly when he finished. “You’re all set. I’ll leave you to rest now. I’ll be by a few times to check on you. If all goes well, you’ll be back in your own bed by tonight.”
Bowman let Geroge and Flo in as he left. Once they were both settled, George launched into an explanation of the paths of energy in the body, and how it related to the sensors currently stuck to her. It made her feel a bit better to know what was going on and why.
…
Barnes accompanied Bowman the first time he came back to check on her. He surveyed them all with the same disapproving frown he always wore, and grilled Flo on everything that happened. When Bowman finished, he bid them all a good day, and then left to speak privately to the doctor.
Whatever Bowman had given her to calm her magic had long since worn off. The screen attached to the sensors showed a gradual increase in feedback from her magic. It corresponded with the return of the unsettled, rubbed-raw feeling mounting in her chest. She really hoped it was not bad enough that Dr. Bowman would decide she had to stay the night. He had tutted at the readings during his last visit, but had not said anything else.
George stood in a corner of the room speaking quietly with the doctor. Flo tried to distract her with anecdotes that were not as comforting as she seemed to think they were. Bowman nodded to whatever George said, then cam over to check on her again.
“Alright dear,” he began, “Your readings are higher than I’d like for them to be, but there’s been no surges in your energy that would indicate damage needing further intervention. As long as you’re steady, you can head home now.”
George and Flo were shoed out of the room as Bowman set about removing all the sensors. Gingerly, she sat up. When no dizziness assaulted her, she risked standing. Bowman watched her with a critical eye, just close enough to intervene if she looked about to fall. She managed a lap around the room without falling over. He deemed her well enough to go home.
“If you’re still feeling particularly unwell tomorrow morning, come back and we’ll take a closer look at you,” ordered Bowman as he handed her off to Flo and George.
George gave the doctor his assurances as Flo herded her away down the hall.
…
Her spark of strength faded as they stood outside DSRAC waiting for a cab. Her skin felt itchy, and her magic felt raw. By the time the cab finally showed, the others were supporting her. She collapsed in the back seat, squished between them. When they reached home, Flo and George were half-carrying her as they mounted the steps to the door.
Before George was able to retrieve his keys from his pocket, the door flew open to reveal Lockwood standing on the threshold. “What happened?” he demanded.
Without waiting for an answer, he swept forward and scooped her up from the startled hold of the others. She made a token attempt to get him to put her down without success. The itchy, raw feeling cooled and she gave up, letting herself collapse into him.
“Lesson didn’t go so well today,” offered Flo as she and George filed inside and closed the door.
“Oh, really?” snarked Lockwood. “I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t told me.”
Flo shot him a disgruntled look. George cut in before they could really start into each other. “We should get Lucy upstairs to bed. Dr. Bowman said she needs rest.”
Thankfully, nobody yelled at anybody else and Lockwood carried her upstairs – George opening the door to her room for them. Once settled safely on her bed, Flo chased the boys out and helped her change into her pajamas. Lockwood reappeared the second the coast was clear.
He planted himself at the foot of her bed, taking her wrist and pressing two fingers over her pulse point. After a ten count, he shot Flo a sharp look that demanded answers without words.
“Don’t look at me like that Locky,” snapped Flo. “I did everything right by her. Didn’t even open the containment box for the relic ‘til almost lunchtime.”
“Then how did this happen?”
“…Lockwood…m’fine…” she mumbled. And she really did feel mostly fine now that she was home. The worst of it all seemed to evaporate the moment she crossed into the house proper.
Lockwood’s focus switched to her for the amount of time it took to swipe a thumb delicately along the inside of her wrist. He fixed Flo with a hard stare immediately after.
“Spent the whole mornin making sure her defenses would hold up – even threw as much magic as I could muster at her to check. She didn’t falter once. Not ‘til I opened that box up, at least. It took less than 20 seconds for her to collapse to the ground and start screamin. I slammed it shut the second she did.”
Lockwood took a measured moment to collect himself, swiping with his thumb along her skin again. George bustled in with food just as he was about to open his mouth.
“Here Lucy,” called George. “It’s nothing special, but it’s food, and I don’t think you’ll be able to stomach much else right now. Lockwood, help me sit her up so she can eat.”
Momentarily distracted from his perturbance, Lockwood helped George. She managed half the bowl of rice, beans and lentils before she could not eat any more. Lockwood helped her to lay down again.
“How are you feeling Luce?” asked Lockwood softly.
She thought about her answer first. “…Ok…”
Lockwood seemed to relax, if only a little, and drew her blankets up before tucking her in. Once settled again at her feet, he turned his attention back to the others.
“You took her to the doctors?”
“Course I did Locky,” grumbled Flo, “Wasn’t just gonna leave her there.”
“What did they say?”
“Dr. Bowman’s assessment is that Lucy suffered an acute case of reactive hypersensitivity,” explained George. He cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt before replacing them and continuing. “He examined her magic immediately after the incident, and did not find any signs of damage; just the chaffing standard to hypersensitivity. They monitored her energy levels for hours after, and there were no spikes to indicate that further intervention was needed. Her levels were tracked higher than average, which Bowman attributed to stress. He believed that sending Lucy home to where she’s more comfortable would be better for her than staying at the clinic. He appears to have been right, since she’s already looking a little better than she was.”
Lockwood sighed and gave the others a jerky nod. “Alright,” he sighed, “Did the doctor say anything else about her care?”
“M’ still here…” she grumbled.
Lockwood squeezed her hand but did not change his focus.
“He said we should keep an eye on her tonight, to make sure she doesn’t make a turn for the worse. And if she’s still not feeling well by morning, to bring her back to the clinic,” continued George.
“I’ll sit with her,” declared Lockwood.
No one tried to argue with him.
“And Flo?” he called.
She stopped just before the door to glance back at him.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. You did not deserve that.”
“No, I didn’t,” she grumbled, “I get why you did though. I’m still rubbing silver fillings on your bedroom doorknob.”
Lockwood’s lips twitched upwards in a faint close-lipped smile. “I’d expect nothing less.”
…
George and Flo filed silently down the stairs after Lucy’s bedroom door fell closed. They did not stop until they stood in front of the front door again.
“Did you notice –” began Flo.
“– How Lucy’s magic visibly calmed down the second Lockwood touched her?” finished George for her. “Of course I noticed.”
“You know what that’s gotta mean, don’t you Georgie?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 40
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The whistling of a mans voice filled the air. It was grating and over-joyful – an act put on in an attempt to fool people into a false sense of security.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” called a smooth voice. It was silken and dangerous. The whistling cut off abruptly in response.
“Is this what you call hiding sell-sword?” jeered the grating voice that had been whistling. “Because I call it an evening stroll in the moonlight. No hiding involved.”
“My Mistress has insisted you’re return.”
“Ah, yes,” drawled the grating voice, “I can see how that would be a problem for you. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. Not interested.”
The sound of metal scraping against its scabbard whispered through the still night air. “I must insist,” stated the smooth voice.
The grating voice laughed. “Do you think your pointy stick frightens me? I’m frankly more terrified by your dangerous lack of good taste – a gold-plated sword, really?”
“You will come with me, wretch,” growled the smooth voice, “Weather you want to or no.”
The grating voice snickered again. “No, I really don’t think I am. That wrought-iron fence over there looks awful pointy. Would you like to make your acquaintance with it?”
Soft, cautious footsteps whispered through the grass.
“Aw, come now. There’s no need for that!” called the grating voice. “Why don’t we settle this like gentlemen?”
“You are no gentleman.”
“ ‘Takes one to know one’,” called the grating voice in a sing-song fashion.
“Enough!”
The air rippled with the force of the blade swiping through it. Giggling erupted. A frustrated growl rolled out.
“Wretch!” snapped the smooth voice, “Stand and fight me, you coward!”
“Oh, well if you insist.”
Snarling, as if a beast finally come to life.
“What the –” gasped the smooth voice. The metal clang of blade sounded as it was swatted aside. “How…?”
“My turn now,” trilled the grating voice.
Snarling. A chocked off scream. The ring of a hidden blade being pulled from its sheath. An angry snarl.
“Lucy!”
The image of a middle-aged man, handsome and thin, with blood smeared across his face burst into her mind. The crimson liquid trickled past his lips. A wild-faced youth with spiky hair and the fangs of a vampire struck forward, fast as a viper, straight for the man’s neck.
Lucy gasped as she came back to herself. Lockwood hovered over her, holding her still even as she realized her limbs were still flailing of their own accord.
“Luce, it’s alright, your alright,” soothed Lockwood.
She collapsed backwards in a heap on her bed. Lockwood eased his grip on her shoulders. Her breaths heaved, and she shivered slightly. Her magic roiled through her veins, but was already quieting back down. Blindly, she reached out for something to hold onto. The first thing she found was Lockwood’s arm; she clutched at it, holding fast.
“Easy Luce, breathe. Your alright,” said Lockwood. He freed his arm from her grip, taking her hand in one of his instead. The other brushed her flyaway hair from her face before settling on her shoulder to hold her steady.
He sat on the bed next to her as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Fingers slipped around her wrist and pressed against her pulse point.
“Luce, are you in any pain?” asked Lockwood when she finally managed to blink herself back to full awareness.
“No,” she breathed. “No, I’m…ok.”
Her magic had lost the stinging sort of raw feeling from the day before, and the roiling she had come to associate with visions was already nothing but a distant memory. Her magic was once again safely stored away beneath a blanket of snowy silence.
…
A couple hours latter found Lucy sitting at the kitchen table, Lockwood still hovering at her shoulder. He had tried to help her down the stairs once she was steady, but she swatted him away. “Stop fussing, I’m fine. I can walk on my own, thank you.”
He backed off, but only by an arms length. Internally, she sighed. It was as good as she was going to get from him, so she gave it up. He stayed ahead of her on the stairs, in case she did end up falling. Thankfully, she made it to the kitchen without incident.
Geroge was already puttering away at breakfast when they walked in. He took one look at them, and knew. “Alright, what did I miss this time?” he demanded when she plopped herself into the nearest chair.
“Lucy took her healing charm off last night, and forgot to put it back on before falling asleep. She had a vision just before she woke,” answered Lockwood. She was too busy stifling a yawn behind her hand to say anything.
George fixed her with a critical eye. “Are you alright Lucy?” he asked.
“M’fine,” she sighed. It looked like she was going to have to keep repeating herself with everyone, not just Lockwood.
George surveyed her for a long moment. He seemed to nod to himself, cleaning his glasses before putting them back on. “No feelings of itching or rawness?”
“No.”
He nodded again, then went back to working on breakfast.
“I could sense the soreness in your magic yesterday,” interjected Lockwood. “It faded out sometime around the middle of the night.”
“If you already knew I was fine, why have you been fussing so much this morning?” she challenged.
Lockwood softly touched her on the shoulder. She turned to look at his earnest eyes. “Because your magic went haywire this morning, and then you started thrashing around. I had to grab you and hold you still so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.”
She felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and dropped her eyes. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap.
“What took you out of the vision?” asked George over his shoulder.
Her and Lockwood both seemed to startle out of whatever little bubble they had fallen into.
“What?” she asked.
“What brought you back to yourself, and took you out of the vision?”
“Um…I’m not…sure.”
“She was struggling, and I grabbed her hand so she wouldn’t end up smacking me,” offered Lockwood. “Her awareness came back maybe a second or two after.”
George turned around and surveyed them both. “So it was specifically physical, skin-on-skin contact that snapped her out of her vision?”
“…I guess it was,” hedged Lockwood.
George hummed in acknowledgement, then went back to the bacon sizzling in the pan.
…
To her surprise, George waited until after she had eaten breakfast to interrogate her for every detail she could give him on her newest vision. “You’re saying that right before you woke, you got a flash of images along with the sounds from this vision?”
She shifted in her seat. “Yeah, just for a second. The grating voice was the same as the vampire from the last one – he looked like some wild-haired kid. I didn’t recognize the other man or his voice.”
George tapped with his pen on the thinking cloth, eyes unfocused. “Would you be able to draw the faces you caught a glimpse of before you woke?” he asked after a moment.
The question startled her – she had never considered such a thing. “I…can try. I don’t know how good they’d be.”
George waved her off, still clearly thinking. “It doesn’t need to be pretty. I just need the basic facial features. It might help identify the people involved; which would help us figure out why you keep having these visions of this particular vampire.”
“That the other man supposedly carried a gold-plated sword will help too,” added Lockwood. “That’s not practical or common. Gold might not rust, but it’s a soft metal and is not useful for holding an edge. I’d have to say that I agree with this vampire – it’s more than a little tacky.”
“Carrying a sword of any description would also mean that this was likely an historic event,” muttered Geroge, scribbling notes on the thinking cloth.
“– And any man permitted to carry around a golden weapon would have to be nobility or a high-ranking knight,” tacked on Lockwood.
She watched as George pulled out a notepad and began to furiously scribble notes down. His pen clacked on the table when he finally put it down.
Lockwood watched him with an eyebrow raised. “Let’s hear it,” he sighed, “You’ve come to some sort of conclusion. What is it?”
George pushed his glasses high on his nose before he responded. “As interested as I am in deciphering your visions, something else needs to take precedent at the moment.”
“What’s that?”
“Your reaction yesterday is a serious problem,” he said, “That, and the fact that the one night you accidentally go to sleep without Lockwood’s healing charm, you have this vision. You’re very powerful, Lucy, and also very sensitive. That’s not a good combination – it means there’s a lot that can go wrong and hurt you, and anything that does go wrong will have more serious consequences.”
She shifted about uncomfortably. “Well, what can I do about it?” she worried.
Lockwood reached over and gave her hand a squeeze beneath the table. He did not say anything to interrupt. That meant he agreed with whatever it was George was working towards.
“I have no doubt that there are things you can do to protect yourself,” soothed George. “The problem is finding what they are without hurting you.” He took his glasses off and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “I think we need to ask Dr. Bowman to completely map your magic.”
She glanced from him to Lockwood and back. “I have no idea what that means.”
Lockwood gave her hand another squeeze. “What did it feel like when the doctor examined you yesterday?” he asked quietly.
She grimaced. “It felt…weird.”
“Like he was poking your soul weird?” cut in George.
“…Yeah…”
George accepted the answer with a tilt of his head. “That’s normal. It’s how almost all writings explain the sensations for a magical when someone else touches their magic.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Having the doctor map the entirety of your magic would feel much like that,” explained Lockwood, “Only it would be a lot more intense.”
George nodded in agreement. “Mapping your magic would be a long, invasive process for you. It has to be done very carefully, or it can cause your magic to lash out and attack in perceived self-defence. Standard procedure for this sort of thing is to put you in a trance-like sleep until it’s over, so you’re less likely to have a knee-jerk reaction and hurt either the doctor, or yourself. It’s not something to be taken lightly.”
Lockwood was still keeping his hold on her hand. He gave it another small squeeze. She latched onto the feeling. Having magic is kind of fun – it’s strange, and exciting, and makes her feel just that much more alive. Why did it always have to come with these terrible things though? Even worse, why did it seem like these things were only a problem for her?
“George, would you mind giving us a minute alone?” asked Lockwood suddenly.
George blinked at him. “Sure, fine.” He left, taking his notebook with him without any other comment.
She stared fixedly at her lap. She did not want this, any of it. Why did this have to happen?
She felt another brief squeeze. “Luce?” called Lockwood softly. “Lucy, I can hear your heartrate picking up. Will you look at me?”
“I don’t want this!” she exploded. She curled into herself, yanking her hand back as she did. Tears started to sting at her eyes as she hiccoughed.
There was a second where nothing happened. Then Lockwood turned her chair to fully face him. She squeezed her eyes closed in surprise as he did, not wanting…she was not sure what, but she knew she did not want it.
“Luce, look at me,” he rumbled, taking both her hands this time.
Stupid vampire speed; all of a sudden, he was kneeling in front of her, looking up into her eyes. She could not hide from him now.
“Why is everything that’s supposed to help me awful!?” she demanded, a few tears finally breaking free. “Why do I have to do this? I don’t want it!”
“No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” soothed Lockwood, “We literally can’t – what George is proposing will only work if you consent to it of your own free will.”
“I don’t care! Why does this have to happen?”
Lockwood watched her in silence for what felt like an aeon. She turned her face away from him, crying in earnest now.
“Why am I different?” she whispered, “Why does this always seem to happen to me?”
“Luce, look at me. You’re not different – not like that, anyway.”
She snorted wetly, and did not turn to him.
“Do you remember why I was given the charm you’re wearing right now?” he asked, undeterred.
She sniffled without facing him. But she listened.
“I was very young, and it was possible that partial shifts were all I would ever be capable of. Once I got better, my parents took me to have my magic mapped. They wanted to know if that was the case, so they could make sure I got the training I really needed.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
“400 years ago, when the average person had a lot more magic than they do now, it was common practice to map a young magicals power. It meant that a lot of accidents could be avoided, and they could be given the correct training from the beginning. Not everyone did it, of course. But those that didn’t were more prone to accidents, and often hurt themselves or others trying things their magic was not actually capable of.”
“Why am I so much stronger than people now though?” she asked, finally turning to look at him.
Lockwood was still holding her hands. He gave them another soft squeeze. “I’ve lived a long time, Luce. I’ve seen a lot of the patterns people and events follow. I can’t give you a certain answer. But I can tell you that magic always remembers – and that DSRAC has taken in and protected a lot of magicals over the years. The longer DSRAC has existed, the more I’ve seen spontaneous magicals crop up in situations with no familial relation to magic. Usually when it happens, it’s to people that could use the help; for a way out.”
She was quiet as she watched him watch her. He did not ask the question – did not press her. Had she needed a way out? Her father had been a drunk. She could barely remember him. What she did know, was that her mother had no sympathy to spare on him. She had only ever heard how he left them with nothing. Her mother had not hit her, but she was also never one for dolling out affection. There was the time her mother got so angry, she forced her to sleep outside on the stoop for the night. She remembered her skin tingling the whole time – the warning she was given without knowing what it was.
“You’re from a small town,” continued Lockwood in the silence, breaking through her thoughts. “Maybe you have so much magic, because it should have made it easy for DSRAC to find you.”
…
By the time her and Lockwood emerged, Flo had arrived. She was chatting with George in the library, waiting for them.
“Good to see you’re better Love,” she called as the two of them found places to sit. “Georgie tells me he’s thinkin mapping your magic would be a good idea.” She watched her fidget. “Can’t say I disagree with him.”
She blew out a long breath, casting a glance to Lockwood. “Yeah…I’m…can someone explain more about what it would be like?”
“Doc’d put you out for it,” called Flo, “Probably won’t remember much of what it’s like.”
“They’ll hook you up to monitor your energy through the process,” added George, “They can’t actually completely put you to sleep – you still have to be conscious. And given the level of your sensitivity, any sensations will probably be more acute than is normal.”
“No one but the doctor can be in the room with you when they start,” said Lockwood. “And you’ll be exhausted once it’s over.”
Her eyes snapped to him. “Why do I have to be alone?”
“The presence of anyone else in the room could affect how your energy flows,” explained George, “Which also means it would change the mapping of your magic.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap. She wrung her hands, twisting her fingers around each other. “I don’t…I think…”
“It won’t hurt Luce,” called Lockwood softly. “It’ll be uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt.”
George studied her closely as she continued to wring her hands. “There’s something you want to ask, but you’re not sure you should,” he said. “What is it Lucy?”
“I…want you all to be there,” she whispered.
George blinked at her. Flo sat back with a considering expression. Lockwood watched her without blinking.
“Georgie and me’ll wait in the hall for you Love,” she offered, “There’s not even a question about that.”
“You want Lockwood there,” stated George.
Flo’s eyes snapped to him, then back to her. Lockwood was staring at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.
“I know it’s not possible –”
“There might be a way we can make that work,” said Lockwood slowly.
Notes:
Let's just everyone end on the image of George pulling his hair out in frustration. ;D
Chapter 41
Notes:
Welp, I do believe that these idiots will make Barnes loose his mind. And maybe someone was able to sniff something out...
😁 Enjoy!
Chapter Text
“I would like to reiterate once again that I think this is a terrible idea,” grumbled George from his spot in the back of the cab.
Flo rolled her eyes at him. “We know you do Georgie. But we’re already here, aren’t we? Can’t take it back now.”
“Sure we can. He can fly home once we get out of this car.”
“CAWW!”
Lucy currently sat squished in against the door with Flo next to her and Lockwood in his bird form perched on her knee. George sat on Flo’s other side, still sulking at being out-voted.
Lockwood’s grand plan for being able to accompany her to the DSRAC medical clinic was to disguise himself as their pet bird, “For moral support,” he explained, thin-lipped smile and sparkling eyes on full display.
She had actually seen George’s eye twitch at the suggestion, but Flo was offering her support for the idea before he could fully form his protests. “S’not the worst idea in the world,” offered Flo, to everyone’s utter amazement. “It’s a damn sight better than him comin as a person. All the doorknobs in DSRAC are silver plated – as a pet bird, he’d not have to worry about that.”
“And, thanks to George’s erstwhile ‘experiment’, we already know that I can pass through the protection runes meant to keep vampires out,” commented Lockwood lightly.
George admitted to her during one of their own experimenting sessions that he had originally carved protection runes over his bedroom door when he first moved in with Lockwood. He might have agreed to help him, but he had not trusted him right off. Lockwood had apparently walked right in without realizing a thing, which prompted George to carve runes all over the house to see if it made any difference to him – it hadn’t. So much so Lockwood had not even realized until almost a year latter when George gave her the protection runes and told her they warded against soulless creatures and negative intentions.
She had not made any comment either way as George, Lockwood and Flo argued and debated the merits of the plan. In the end, Flo’s support of the idea won out, and George begrudgingly conceded defeat.
The cab pulled up in front of headquarters, and they all trudged out. Lockwood moved to perch on her shoulder. Now that she was here, she was not so sure about this anymore. They were putting Lockwood in an awful lot of danger – at his suggestion, mind – but unnecessarily. Beyond that, she was still anxious about this whole “mapping” thing.
Sensing her unease, Lockwood squeezed her shoulder with his talons. He nudged her ear in a way that tickled and made her smile. “Stop that!” she ordered, “That tickles!”
Lockwood, the absolute prick that he was, only repeated the gesture, this time more insistently. She giggled, trying to swat him and move away; something which was difficult with him standing on her shoulder.
“If you two are quite finished,” grumbled George, “We should be going in.”
The moment of levity now effectively squashed, trepidation settled back into her breast. Lockwood squeezed her shoulder again.
“Nice goin Georgie,” admonished Flo. “Come on now Love. Best be getting to it while the day’s young.”
They trooped into the building. She held her breath as they crossed the threshold. A part of her was still certain something was going to stop them or go wrong and reveal Lockwood as a vampire; here, in the heart of the place that eliminated all vampires. But they passed through the main doors without any problems and emerged into the sparce, standard-looking lobby.
Their luck seemed to fail them almost immediately after, because standing at the front desk talking to the receptionist was Inspector Barnes. Sergeant Wade stood scowling off to the side, as per usual. He made an about turn, clearly finished whatever conversation he had been having when he noticed them. Instantly, he made a beeline for them.
“Miss Carlyle,” he called briskly, “I was hoping I’d be able to speak with you after yesterday’s events.
“Karim, Bonnard,” he acknowledged with a nod.
The inspector’s eyes scanned over them, almost as if without thought. He seemed to freeze for a second, then his eyes fell on Lockwood.
“Um…what did you want to speak to me about?” she stuttered, trying to shift Barnes’ focus.
He continued to watch the bird. Lockwood had taken to cleaning his feathers, as if without a care in the world.
“Inspector?” she tried again.
Seeming to shake himself out of his stupor, Barnes focused on her. “After yesterdays events, I spoke with Miss Bonnard, as well as with Dr. Bowman. From the information they gave me, and the obvious severity of your reaction, it’s become clear that more care needs to be taken with your wellbeing going forward. For those reasons, I’m recommending you to have your magic mapped –”
“We’ve already had this conversation, Inspector,” cut in George.
Barnes turned his standard frown onto him.
“That’s actually why we’re here right now,” continued George. “We were just on our way to see Dr. Bowman about it.”
“I…see,” offered Barnes. His eyes fell onto Lockwood again. “Why have you brought the bird?” he asked.
“S’nothing wrong with a little moral support, is there Inspector?” prodded Flo. She crossed her arms and threw Barnes an ingratiating smile. “Girlie here wanted her friend to come with. Didn’t see no reason not to let her.”
Barnes rubbed tiredly at his temple. “That bird better not make a mess anywhere,” he threatened.
“CAW!”
She tried to cover her laughter at Lockwood’s obvious indignation with a cough. Flo did not bother to cover her snort of amusement.
“Don’t worry Inspector,” offered George, “He’s usually very well trained.”
“CAW!”
She could not help it as she lost it. Her hands flew up to cover her face in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lockwood give her the closest thing to a wounded look she thought she had ever seen from a bird before.
Barnes cast his eyes skyward, praying for the patience to deal with them. “Get out of my sight, the lot of you. I’m not dealing with this right now,” he grumbled.
They herded away from the spot, still suppressing their laughter and made for the medical wing.
…
“Do you have any other questions, Miss Carlyle?” asked Dr. Bowman.
They found him in his office. Bowman invited them in once they explained why they were there. He walked her through everything she could expect from the process. Lockwood had moved again to her knee. He was pressed against her hand, and she was trying to restrain herself from stroking his feathers. It would feel too weird if she did, no matter how soft she was now realizing they were.
“…No,” she mumbled. “I think I’m ok.”
He gave her a kind smile. “Then are you ready for us to get you set up?”
“Lucy?” called George when she did not say anything. Lockwood nudged her hand with his beak and turned a glittering eye to her.
She drew in a deep breath. “Yeah…”
Bowman gave her an encouraging smile, beckoning her to follow him. “We’re going to have to leave behind your little friend here now,” he apologized, “But they can wait with Mr. Karim and Miss Bonnard until we’re finished.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
Lockwood nudged her hand again and gazed long and hard at her. He flew over to stand on the back of George’s chair when she managed to scrounge up the courage to shoe him away. She followed Bowman out of his office and to the exam room.
…
She lay curled on her side, the myriad of sensors still stuck all over her body. The trance-state Bowman had placed her in for the process still clung to her, even though he had lifted the enchantment by now. Lockwood had been right – she was exhausted – and it had not hurt, though it had been far from a pleasant experience. Her body felt like someone had stuck their finger inside and spent hours nudging around her organs until everything was just slightly out of place. She felt more muscle soreness than anything else.
Bowman set about checking her vitals. When he was satisfied by her condition, he let in her friends. Lockwood immediately flew over and perched next to her on the bed, pressing his soft feathers against her arm. Dazedly, she gave in to the instinct to stroke him. She could feel embarrassed about it latter.
“How’re you feelin there Love?” called Flo softly.
“…Tired,” she breathed.
George cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt. There was a funny indent on the side of his face, almost as if he had fallen asleep on something misshapen. “Of course your tired,” he enthused, “It’s been nearly ten hours. Try and get some sleep, ok Lucy? Once you’ve gotten a few hours, we’ll talk to Bowman and see about taking you home.”
She hummed in acknowledgement. She had no energy to do anything else.
…
What felt like seconds latter she was gently woken by a bird nudging at her chin. It took a second for her to connect the dots, but then she remembered where they were and why there was a bird in front of her. She groaned as she blinked at Lockwood, but she was too tired still to shoe him away.
“Miss Carlyle?” called Dr. Bowman as he stepped up to the bed. “Now that you’re awake and your condition is stable, I believe we can discharge you and let you go home. How does that sound?”
“…Ok…” she murmured.
Bowman’s eyes lingered on Lockwood for a moment before he turned and gave her an encouraging smile. “I think we’re going to have to deprive you of your friend here for a moment while I remove the sensors.”
Involuntarily, her fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out and hug Lockwood to her chest at the mere idea of him leaving. But she really was too tired to move, so that was all it was. Lockwood nudged her with his beak before gently brushing a wing across her collarbone as he flew to George’s outstretched arm.
The two of them, along with Flo trudged out into the hall to wait again while Bowman unhooked her and cleaned her up. On the way out, he handed them a sealed envelope. “This is the report of your mapping,” he explained, “We’ve kept a copy for your file here, in case you ever need any other treatments with regard to your magic. Your symptoms of discomfort will last three to four days. Take things easy, and refrain from using too much magic until then, alright?”
“I’ve got it Doctor,” answered Geroge as he took the envelope and tucked it under an arm. “We’ll make sure she’s looked after.”
Bowman’s eyes lingered on Lockwood with the faintest trace of a smile for a second before he focused on George. “I’m sure you will.”
Her mapping had taken long enough that it attracted the attention of Barnes. As they trooped out of the medical wing, they found Wade stationed there waiting to escort them home. It meant they did not have to wait for a cab on the street and could get home that much faster. It was also the middle of the night, so you know – safety. She had no complaints.
Wade’s apparent lacking in any personable skills suited them all just fine as she drove them home. It meant there were no questions to answer, and she dozed with Lockwood perched on her shoulder, leaned against George. He normally very much disliked that kind of contact, but he seemed to be content to allow it to her this once.
Lockwood flew ahead when the door was opened and had already transformed back into a person by the time Flo was able to get her up the stairs and into the house. Wade drove away once she saw them close the door behind them without incident.
Once again, Lockwood took charge of leading her upstairs and Flo helped her get ready for bed. This time, she made sure she was wearing the healing charm before letting her collapse into bed. George brought her up something simple to eat, and Lockwood declared he would stay and keep an eye on her, at least until she fell asleep.
“How are you feeling now Luce?” he asked softly once everyone else had left.
She curled up with her blankets, blinking to try and stay awake a little longer. “I…it’s sort of…everything feels kind of…out of place?”
“Yes,” he said, “That’s how it always feels. Like the doctor said; it’ll fade in a few days. You just have to take it easy.”
“Was it…like this…for you?” she murmured.
Lockwood squeezed a hand reassuringly. “Yes,” he breathed, “But I don’t have as much magic as you, and when I went through a mapping, it didn’t take nearly so much time. I was fully recovered after only a day. You’ll get there, it’ll just take you a little longer.”
…
Lockwood may have said he was only going to stick around until she fell asleep, but she woke the next morning to him still sitting with her. He was reading a book by the meager light coming in from the hall.
“Isn’t that bad for your eyes?” she asked sleepily.
“I have much better night vision than a normal person,” he answered without looking up.
“How do you always seem to already know I’m awake?”
“Your breathing patterns change when you start to wake up.”
The displaced feeling of everything inside her chest did not seem to change at all that first day. She spent most of it napping. Neither Lockwood nor George would let her venture far from bed. For the most part, Lockwood kept her company, but George made plenty appearances – usually bearing food – and Flo came by a couple times too.
The second day she was allowed to venture downstairs to the sitting room. She felt slightly better, less displaced than she had. But she was still chronically tired, and did not do much more than nap.
By the third day she could confidently say she felt mostly human again. The displaced feeling had faded into a sort of pulsing ache in her chest. She had enough energy to start on the drawings George had asked her to try her hand at – of the faces she had scene in her vision.
“Feelin better there Love?” called Flo from the doorway sometime after lunch.
She set aside her drawing to focus on her. “Mostly. I’m still a little tired and sore.”
Flo nodded before plopping down into a sitting chair, clapping her dirty wellington boots onto a footstool. “Doc did say you’d probably take four days to recover.”
“How are you doing in here Luce?” called Lockwood as he came into the room.
She was well enough to be exasperated by his fussing again, and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, see? Comfortably resting, and no magic.”
Flo sniggered from her chair, but they both ignored her.
“You’ll be ok here with Flo if I head out for a bit?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she hedged, taken a little off guard. “Where’re you going?”
He tried to shrug it off as if it meant nothing. Flo was watching him with a raised eyebrow now though, too. “I’ve just…got to go hunting.”
“Oh,” she said, “Ok. Well, I’ll be fine. It’s the middle of the day anyway. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Locky,” called Flo, “You feelin ok?”
He shot her his standard thin-lipped smile. “Of course. I just know that if I leave it another few days, I won’t have enough energy.”
Flo continued to look askance at him. “That’s exactly what I mean Locky. You goin hunting before you already fallin down is out of character.”
“I’m not that bad,” he grumbled.
“Oh yes you are,” shot back Flo. “How many times has Georgie had to make you feed since you’ve moved in together?”
“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” said Lockwood loudly. He turned on his heel and left, making as much noise as humanly possible.
Flo continued to watch him with a strange expression she could not read. “Well now, there’s a new development,” she mumbled, as if to herself.
“What do you mean?”
“Locky actually bothering to look after himself.”
Chapter 42
Notes:
I am officially teasing, guys, and I am not sorry about it. Enjoy! (✿◠‿◠)
Chapter Text
The envelope with the results of her mapping still sat unopened on her bedside table. “It’s your personal information,” explained George when she was finally cognizant enough to ask about it, four days after the process. “If you want to share it with us, then that’s your decision. But no one is going to go poking through it without you first being able to tell them they can.”
“Wasn’t the whole point of doing it that it would tell us how I could train without getting hurt?” she asked.
“That was the point,” commented Lockwood, “But a full map of your magic will hold a lot more intimate information than just how best to train you. By DSRAC regulation, records of a magical mapping are only allowed to be shared in full with immediate next-of-kin or a registered emergency contact. Even Inspector Barnes – the person in charge of your case and your safety according to DSRAC – will only have limited access, and only on a need-to-know basis.”
“Bowman did talk about what would be revealed in your mapping,” offered George.
She rubbed tiredly at her temples. “I guess…it just didn’t fully register what he said ‘till now.”
…
Both nervous and curious after the conversation over breakfast, she resolved to read the report. She made her way back up to her room and grabbed the envelope before sitting cross-legged with it on her bed. It took a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she was peeling the envelope open and pulling the report out.
She got half way through the first page before realizing she needed help. The thing contained so many words of medical and magical jargon; she had no idea what it was talking about. She sighed to herself. There was nothing else for it – she had to ask George to go through it with her and explain everything.
Dutifully, she trudged back down the stairs and knocked on George’s bedroom door. After a moment, he opened it.
“What’s up Lucy?” he asked.
She stood there giving him an exasperated look for a solid minute. It was by no means a new sight, how George was before her now. But that did not mean she liked it. She learned very quickly after moving in that George often went without pants around the house. Her one saving grace was that he elected for extremely oversized t-shirts whenever he did.
“Can you please put some pants on?” she whined, “I was trying to read through this thing, but I have no idea what it’s saying, and I need someone to translate.”
“You want me to go through the whole thing with you?”
“I…yeah. I can’t understand any of it.”
“Alright,” he said. “Just give me a second. I’ll be out in a minute.”
They spent the rest of the day going over the report together. It was divided into sections based on the use of the information provided. That was a good thing – it meant she could share the relevant parts with Flo and anyone else who taught her without revealing the more personal stuff.
There was a section that talked about the extent of her natural store of magic – where it was, how much there was, and how she could best control it. Most of that she had already been able to figure out with everyone’s help. That was followed by an extensive section about how her physical health tied into her magic.
“Well, that’s quite rare,” commented George once they got there.
“What is?”
“According to this, you don’t just have a central store of magical energy. Your entire circulation system is flooded with magic,” he explained while pointing out the relevant information. “It’s literally part of your blood.”
Her arms were resting on the table in front of her. She found her eyes drawn to the veins visible through the skin on her wrists. “Is that…normal?” she asked quietly.
“I’ve definitely heard of it before,” soothed George, “It’s just very rare. It’s also a good reason for why your mapping took as long as it did.”
She motioned for him to explain more. She did not quite understand, even with his help.
“The more magic you have, the longer a mapping will take. We already knew before this that you have quite the store of power, so I knew your mapping would take several hours at least,” he said. “But that assumption was based on you only having one centralized store of magic in your body; the reality is that your entire body stores magic. Every cell in the body is located within something like 100 micrometres of a capillary, and there are trillions of cells in the human body.
“This is why it took nearly 10 hours for Dr. Bowman to properly map your magic – he had to magically map every vein and artery in your entire body. It’s also why it took you four days to fully recover. A mapping is invasive, even for someone who only has one store of magic.”
She found herself flexing her wrist, staring at the blue colour of her veins. She had started to shake at some point during George’s explanation. “…He said I was dripping in magic…” she whispered.
George’s attention snapped back to her from where he had been reading through more of the report. “What’s that? Who are you talking about?”
She pulled her arms in and wrapped them tightly around her chest, trying to stop her shivering. “…That vampire…from when I was…”
“From when you were abducted,” he finished for her. He was watching her closely now; finally having picked up on her anxiety. “Lockwood said they’d taken some of your blood, so that would make sense. Your blood contains your magic, so the scent of it would have been immediate to a vampire in a way magic usually isn’t.”
“Does that mean…any time I get hurt…vampires will be able to find me? Was learning to mask my magic all for nothing?”
“What? Of course not,” he said immediately. “Look, Lucy, come here. The point of mapping your magic was so that we’d know about things like this. Understanding your power better allows us to tailor things to your specific needs. Now that we know exactly how reliant your physical health is on your magic, we can start building solutions that will help you protect yourself. This isn’t something to be scared of. As long as we know what the risks are, we can plan to avoid them entirely, or at least minimize the damage they can cause you.
“Do you still want to go through the rest of the report?” he asked. “We’re not even a third of the way through yet. There’s a lot more information in here.”
She agreed to go through the rest – she wanted to know now. It kind of scared her, how much information there was on how her magic being in her blood affected her. The report went over how extreme blood loss was likely to affect her – she was relieved to learn that it would not cause any additional problems on top of the blood loss. It would just make it harder for her to cast magic than it usually was because she would have to pull power from further within herself than normal.
At least now she knew where she had gone wrong when Flo had tried to train her resistance to black magic. She had only defended her central core, not any of the other magic in her body. It meant that the black magic had been free to directly attack some of her magic. It had not been able to reach and infect her core though, so the damage had only been superficial and easily healed.
…
Dusk found her curled up in one of the library chairs, her tin of drawing pencils sitting open next to her. She meant to continue working on the sketches for George from her vision, but she was having too much trouble concentrating.
She startled slightly when Lockwood walked in and sat across from her. He regarded her silently for a moment before speaking. “I hear you went through the report of your mapping with George today,” he commented.
She hummed in agreement. “I had to ask him to explain it. Couldn’t understand anything it was saying.”
He laughed quietly. “That sounds about right for a mapping.”
Silence fell between them. “Luce, I can tell your anxious,” called Lockwood. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
She thought about what she had learned with George. “I don’t know,” the mumbled, “It’s like…I now have the answer to every question I’ve ever had about my magic, and I just…”
“It scares you,” said Lockwood quietly.
She fiddled with her hands in her lap, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe a little.”
“More than a little, based on your heartrate.”
She scrunched her face in annoyance. “I hate it when you do that.”
“It’s hard for me to miss, Luce.”
“It’s just that…my magic…it’s…in my blood, not just my core,” she whispered.
Lockwood regarded her silently for a while. His eyes were slightly unfocused. “I see,” he said. “I’m such a fool; I should have realized that a long time ago. The scent of your magic has always been very prominent. If it’s in your blood, that would be why – it’s very close to the surface.”
She continued to fidget restlessly with her hands in her lap. “…The report described me as something…a –”
“A lodestone magical,” finished Lockwood.
Her eyes finally rose to meet his.
“You…know what that is?” she asked quietly.
He gave her a soft thin-lipped smile. “You’re not the first lodestone magical I’ve met Luce,” he offered softly. “They’ve always been rare, even when magic was more prominent. But yes, I know what a lodestone magical is. I’ve met a few myself. The last one was a couple hundred years ago in Ireland though. And I know that the Lady Marrissa Fites was famously a lodestone magical too.”
“Do you…know how someone becomes a lodestone magical? The report said something about me being a ‘seventh-seventh’, like that’s at all helpful.”
“Did George not explain?” asked Lockwood, a little surprised.
“He did, but he was being very technical about it. My head was already hurting by that point – I didn’t really understand.”
Lockwood chuckled softly. “I can imagine he’d be like that. He was probably too excited to realize that you weren’t following,” offered Lockwood. “Well, seven is a powerful magical number. Any time a child is born with six older siblings that are all the same gender as them, they have strong magic, and are known for being powerful healers. If your mapping revealed you as a ‘seventh-seventh’, then your mother would also have to be a seventh daughter with no older brothers. This explains your visions too – a seventh-seventh daughter always has foresight abilities.”
“I…don’t actually know how many siblings my mom had,” she hedged, “But I know she didn’t have any brothers either, and I do have six older sisters.”
“Then it makes perfect sense for you to be such a powerful magical Luce,” soothed Lockwood.
After that, it seemed prudent to also go through her mapping with Lockwood. George had helped her to understand a lot of the technical terms in the report, but he often moved on ahead before she properly understood, leaving her feeling unsettled.
Lockwood made sure to thank her for trusting him with something so personal, and was happy to help fill in the blanks that George’s enthusiasm had left behind.
…
It was a few days out from opening her mapping report now. She had a much better understanding of how her magic worked and what she was capable of. Her lessons with Flo had changed to accommodate the new information about the true nature of her magic. She still met with George afterwards to work on more specific things. He was fascinated with the possibilities presented by her status as a “seventh-seventh”, and wanted to explore her visions more.
But all of that was superfluous to her because Lockwood was being weird. It was not like he was actually avoiding her, like he had done in the past. But he was…he had backed off from her, and she did not know why. She had not realized how much he physically touched her until he stopped doing it.
Thinking about it, she could mark the change precisely from when she asked him to go through her mapping report with her. For the most part, it had gone fine, and he helped her understand things in a lot simpler terms than George had. Going over it all with him had eased a lot of the anxiety that cropped up in her initial shock of learning about it. But he had seemed to freeze at the same part of the report she remembered giving George pause – something about her magic sharing a connection with someone else. Now that she thought about it, neither of them had properly explained it.
“What does it mean, that my mapping said my magic has some connection to someone else?” she demanded of George out of the blue after their latest session.
She saw him pause – watched the gears turn in his head while he adjusted focus to figure out what she was referring to. “Why are you asking?” he questioned without answering.
She crossed her arms and shot him an irritated look. “Because both you and Lockwood went funny over it, and I don’t understand why.”
George seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. “You went through your mapping report with Lockwood too?” he asked. Again, avoiding giving her an answer.
“I did,” she challenged, “Is that a problem?”
“Am I to understand then, that Lockwood continues to be ‘funny over it’?” he prodded.
She glowered at him. “Yes.”
George sighed exasperatedly, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. “Of course he is,” he mumbled, “I’ll talk to him.”
He made as if to leave. “Oi!” she yelled.
“Yes?”
“You still haven’t given me an answer,” she pointed out. “What does it mean that my magic is connected to someone else?”
He regarded her for a long moment. “Nothing, as of yet,” he said, “Because the report also said the connection hasn’t fully formed. A point which clearly needs to be reiterated to that idiot.”
He left without any other explanation.
The next morning at breakfast, George had mysteriously decided to lift Lockwood’s kitchen ban. She decided not to question it any further when Lockwood gave her his standard thin-lipped smile and set a plate of freshly buttered slightly-burned toast down in front of her, along with her freshly brewed tea, exactly how she liked it.
Chapter 43
Notes:
Alright guys, this chapter deserves a little more of an introduction.
Because of the way I'm writing this thing, I never have any idea what a chapter is going to contain until it's already finished. I very frequently reach the end and then sit there thinking, "Well, damn. Didn't see that one coming." That is exactly what has happened here - and yet, this time it was slightly different, because the interesting thing that came out, did not come from nowhere this time. It came from a real experience I had, once upon a time.
For a long time, I've had an interest in Eastern philosophies, medical heritage, and meditation. More than once, I've considered going to something like a Buddhist temple and asking if someone would be willing to teach me, but I've never actually managed to gather up the courage to do it. Instead, I've tried to do little things on my own where I can. One of those things happens to have been meditation. I remember hearing from somewhere once that you should keep your palms facing upwards when you meditate, to let the energy flow through you easier. One time, I think when I was in high school, my brain was buzzing with all kinds of crap, and I decided to give it a try. I was home alone at the time, and I couldn't for the life of me tell you how long I did it, but it was definitely more than just me sitting there with my eyes closed like an idiot. I felt something I couldn't quite explain, and have since been unable to recreate, despite trying. This one specific time, I sat down to meditate, and I tried focusing on my breathing or my heartbeats - I can't even remember which. But I do remember being able to feel my heart, fell the muscle contract. I remember my hands feeling strangely warm, and I remember feeling something flow out to my hands, then back up to my chest, over and over, in time with the breaths in my lungs and the beating of my heart. It was...something I doubt I will ever forget. You can't tell me it wasn't real, because I felt it. I just have no idea how I managed it, or what it might have meant, or even what IT was that I felt. But I felt something. And somehow, that experience has ended up in this chapter.
Obviously, it's been embellished and added upon to suit it's current situation, the the basic structure of that experience is still underlying. All I can hope is that it's as significant to you reading it as it was to me the day I felt it.
Enjoy.💝
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Now that they knew her whole body contained her magic, Flo set about teaching her the things she could do to protect all of her magic, not just her core. It was very different from what she had been doing before, and she struggled with it. Things like the magical scavenger hunts Flo set up in the house forced her to compartmentalize – to focus in one area and one area only. Those lessons, while effective in what they had been trying to teach her to do, were actually the opposite of helpful for guarding all her magic. She could not very well protect her entire body if she was focusing on a single point.
The biggest problem she faced was that her veinous magic was somewhat inert until she used it. Since she did not know how to use it, she could not sense it the same way she had her main core; and not sensing it meant she had no idea how to locate and protect it. Before she could do any protecting, she had to learn how to find it.
“Well Love,” called Flo when they set up shop in the warded room of the basement, “Might not be the most original of ideas, but s’only thing that might work – you’ve got to meditate until you can find your veinous magic.”
She blinked in surprise. It was not so much the idea of meditating that had thrown her, more the concept of Flo suggesting something so…inactive.
Flo shot her a faint grimace and shrugged. “I think it’s weird to Love, but I can’t figure any other way you might be able to expand your focus enough to find the rest of your magic.”
Well, there was one advantage to this lesson – she might get to have a nap in the middle of the day.
…
She did end up napping. Flo had tried her best to keep things interesting, but she had not been able to bypass her own significant lack of spiritual-ness. She did not feel bad about it though. When Flo tried to demonstrate what she should be doing by example, she had fallen asleep too.
By mutual consent, it was decided that the job of helping her find her veinous magic would fall to George. He at least was too fascinated by the concept to fall asleep.
“I think Flo had the right idea by trying to get you to meditate,” he mused the first time she sat down with him to try this again. “Essentially, you need to become more present in your body, and meditation is a good way of achieving that. She just didn’t have the finer details of how it’s supposed to work.”
“Well then, how is it supposed to work?” she asked.
“You can actually meditate in just about any relaxed position. Sitting down cross-legged is the default, but it would also work if you were to lie down on your back, or sit against a wall with your knees drawn up to your chest. What’s more important is that you allow your muscles to relax into the position they naturally want to take, and that you keep your palms facing upwards. Your energy and your magic flow better when your palms are up.”
She readjusted to do as he said; she sat up a little taller, erect but not rigid, and allowed her hands to fall onto her lap, fingers slightly curled as she faced her palms outwards. She threw a questioning look out once she was settled.
After casting an evaluating look over her posture, George gave her a curt nod. “Alright, the next thing you need to do is to find a way to turn your focus inside yourself, without delving so deeply that all you can see is your core.”
“And I do that by…?”
“Your veinous magic will be sound focused just like your core, so you need something that stimulates hearing to focus on that’s inside yourself. Since you’re trying to find magic that flows in your veins, it would make the most sense if you try and focus on your heartbeat first.”
“George, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she gripped, “But I don’t have super-human hearing like Lockwood, and I can’t hear everyone’s heartbeats just by being in the same room as them.”
He pushed his glasses higher on his nose while giving her an apathetic look. “You might not be able to ‘hear’ your own heartbeat in the conventional sense,” he continued, “But you can feel it, and your mind will fill in the rest. Close your eyes, take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth three times, and try to focus inside your chest on your heartbeat.”
It was more direction than Flo had managed, but she still had reservations this was going to work. But George had not yet steered her wrong. The least she could do was give it a try.
She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath.
“Breathe in for a three count, then let it out for a three count, ok Lucy?” she heard George call.
She blew out the air in her lungs, counting down from three in her head. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three, and then again.
“Now focus on the feal of your heartbeat,” said George, “And remember to keep breathing.”
In. Out. In, out. She tried to focus. She could not hear anything. It was not working. But George had told her to find the feel of her heartbeat first, so she looked for that. She tried to imagine sinking through her own skin and looking inside herself. Nothing was happening. She continued to breathe. And then she noticed it – a twitch just to the left of the centre of her chest. She watched for it. There was a pulsing; a tremor of flesh. Slow, and then fast. Slight, then pronounced. The beats of her heart – first to send her blood to her lungs to pick up oxygen, then to the rest of her body to deliver it. Th-thunk. Th-thunk. She could hear it.
“When you find it,” she heard George call softly, “Let yourself fall into it. Allow yourself to be swept away with it.”
He still sounded normal to her, not like the other times she had tried finding her core. This time, he did not sound so far away.
Th-thunk. She heard. She tried. Not quite. Th-thunk. Almost, maybe. Th-thunk. This was not working. Th-thunk. She could not follow it – it moved to fast.
“Let go Lucy.”
Th-thunk. She did not want to. She had been swept away too far too many times. Th-thunk. But if she did not, it was never going to work. Th-thunk. She had to try. Th-thunk. She relaxed her shoulders, let her arms drape at her sides, boneless. Th-thunk. She was swept away.
Her awareness flowed out to her farthest reaches; to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Everything tingled. It was like all those times her magic had been sending her warnings – and yet not like that at all. When she was as far out as she could go, suddenly she was being drawn all the way back again. Th- And she was spreading through her lungs before retreating. -thunk. She flew outwards once again. Her mind swayed, but her body stayed motionless. Flow out, then back. A soft push. Out, back. A strong push. Endless expanses, out and then back again. Everywhere it went, her awareness followed. She felt acutely the contractions of that ceaseless muscle in her chest, the surge of her lifeforce as it swept through the highways of her body. She was everything, all at once, a pattern that never ended.
She felt her hands warm, like laying them in a patch of sunlight on a hot summer’s day. Every inch of skin tingled in a pleasant buzz. Out, back, push. Out, back, push. Her chest. Her lungs. Her feet. Her chest, her lungs, her head. Out, back, push. She heard the sound of static crackling. An old tube tv trying to warm up and tune in. Out, back, push. Out, back, push. Her core of magic always sounded like some form of water, sloshing, trickling, or roaring. Sometimes whipped up in a sudden wind. She had never thought where the wind came from. Now she knew. A breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. She heard it as if through a veil. A television turned down so quiet you could barely hear. She was looking for the sound dial to better hear.
And suddenly she heard. Out – the whistling of a strong wind, back – the rippling of leaves and branches and grasses as they were swept along with the gusts, push – the battering on the side of your house in the depths of winter when there is nothing left but the biting of the wind. Whistle, rustle, howl. Whistle, rustle, howl. It was there. It was…everywhere. Her magic. Alive in her veins. She could feel it. She could use it. Whistle, rustle, howl, waves crashing. She had it.
…
She ended up feeling chronically jittery for the rest of the day after George helped her find and activate the magic in her blood. She could not sit still. Whistle. Rustle. Howl. Waves crashing in the background.
George did not actually stop the lesson when she found her veinous magic. Being able to find it and activate it was a good thing, but activating it meant that it could be sensed by vampires. She also had to figure out how to force dormancy onto it before they could stop. If it had been hard to find, it was harder to shut off.
Turning on her veinous magic seemed to have cascading effects through her body. She did not have to search out every nook and cranny to turn it all on – all she had to do was knock the first domino, and everything else followed. Of course, it was much easier to knock the dominoes over than it was to set them up.
Whenever she could hear her magic, she knew it was active. Her central core always sounded something like water, so silencing it had been as easy as finding a form of water that absorbed sound. But her veinous magic was different – it sounded like wind, like air. Whistle. Rustle. Howl. There is not another state that makes wind sound quieter. She tried something similar to what worked in her core, but cold air is thin and only to happy to steal and whisk away any sound it catches. But if cold was not the answer, what was?
“It’s quite fascinating that you have a different sound association with your veinous magic,” chattered George in excitement.
She scowled at him. “George! Focus, please!”
His eyes snapped back to her from the notepad he had started to scribble on. “Yes, right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “You say that your veinous magic sounds like wind, right?”
“Yes. I don’t know how to make it stop.” It was actually very distracting.
George pushed his glasses farther up his nose as he nodded. “Well, you were able to silence your core which sounds like water by finding a state in which water absorbs sound more that it transmits –”
“I already tried that! Cold air makes the sounds louder,” she snarked.
“– But wind is not water, and does not have the same properties. Think about the days where there is no wind; what do most of them have in common?”
She stared blankly at him. The excited feeling of her skin tingling all the way to the crown of her head continued.
“Bright sunlight. A cloudless day,” continued George, undeterred. “Clouds are made of water, and wind drags them along with it. Your veinous magic might sound different, but it is not a thing in and of itself – it still comes from your core, even if it doesn’t live there. Think of the wind not as air, but as the vessel that caries the moisture along with it. To quiet all of your magic, clear the sky of clouds, and let the sun come out.”
She gave him a dubious look, but closed her eyes and tried. It was not an exact thing – she had trouble getting it to work. But by the time they gave it up for the night, she had at least managed to make her skin stop tingling.
When they came up for supper that night, Lockwood was looking at her funny.
“What?” she demanded.
“Your magic smells different,” was his only reply.
She smacked her forehead onto the table in exasperation, cursing under her breath.
“She figured out how to activate her veinous magic, and then had trouble deactivating it,” explained George when Lockwood cast him a pleading look, not understanding what he had done wrong. “It’s probably going to take a few days before she can completely mask it like she can her core.”
She expected what came next – Lockwood sternly declared that she was not to leave the house until she could properly mask all her magic. She pouted at him, but he refused to meet her eye. Instead, he stared very fixedly at his cup of tea.
“Stop trying to give him the puppy-eyes Lucy,” sighed George.
He was taking pity on Lockwood. Interesting. That suggested George thought the puppy-dog-eyes probably would have worked on Lockwood. Something to remember for future reference.
“I agree – you should stay in the house until we get this sorted. Since you’ve managed to activate your veinous magic, your scent will be a lot stronger and easier to find for any vampire that happens by. It’s too dangerous until you can figure out how to properly contain it or mask it. No arguments.”
Notes:
Just picture the giant, round, shimmering eyes: "Please...?"
And Lockwood sweating bullets. *WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT LOOK!!**cackles*
Chapter 44
Notes:
We're getting over the some of the last few hurdles before things get interesting again. *rubs hands together grinning*
Chapter Text
It took her a lot longer to get a handle on her veinous magic than it had her core. George believed it was because it was spread so thinly – she could not simply grab it and force it into submission. It was nearly three weeks before she finally managed to mask it with the same level of effectiveness. To make matters worse, they had turned the corner into winter by now, and it was too cold to sit outside in the garden. Lockwood was adamant – she was not to leave the safety of the house until she mastered masking her magic. She was stuck indoors.
The new lessons took long enough that Barnes started asking George for updates on her – he knew from his patrollers that she was not leaving the house. Two weeks into her house arrest, Barnes showed up at the door, Wade in tow behind him to check on her and make sure nothing was amiss.
“My mapping showed that my magic is in my blood,” she told the pair of them. They were currently taking up space in the sitting room. Lockwood had shifted into a bird and was off to the side of the room pretending to be asleep with his beak tucked under a wing. “Everyone decided it would be too dangerous for me to leave the safety of the house while I was still struggling to mask my veinous magic.”
Barnes gave her a curt nod of understanding. “And you accepted these terms?”
She grimaced. “I don’t really like it,” she admitted. “But the last time I didn’t listen to everyone about the danger I was in…well…”
He surveyed her silently for a long while. “Miss Carlyle, can I ask you to roll up your sleeves and show me your inner arms?”
The question threw her. Lockwood had not reacted and remained in his place off to the side. He would have at least cracked an eye open if there was something worrisome about to happen. “Um…why?” she asked, a little uncertainly.
“I can answer that once you comply,” declared Barnes.
She did not like that answer – not one bit. She noticed Lockwood seem to wake up and stretch. He ruffled his feathers before flying over and perching on her shoulder. He tickled her behind the ear again. She swatted at him as she giggled.
She took solace in how unconcerned he seemed. If he was being a playful nuisance again, it was because he was telling her it was ok. She rolled up her sleaves and showed her inner arms to Barnes.
He cast an evaluating look over her skin before sighing in relief. “Good. It grew worrisome when I received reports you hadn’t been seen outside in more than a week. Enough so that it necessitated this wellness check.”
“Oh, um…ok.”
“It is a precaution we must take, particularly with strong magicals such as yourself,” explained Barnes. “If you hadn’t been seen, there was every possibility that vampires were involved and you were either dead or in need of rescue. Karim assured me you were fine, but protocol necessitates caution in these instances.”
She frowned at him. “You can’t really think George would just carry on, business-as-usual if that was what had happened. And why did you need to see my arms?”
Barnes regarded her for a long moment. “Given the circumstances, I was permitted by Dr. Bowman to learn that you have veinous magic. That means vampires can get usable magic essence from your blood alone without needing to completely drain you. Before arriving here, I had the Doctor check through your recent medical records and look for anything indicating you might have been given treatment necessitating administering medication or other through an IV. He reported back to me in the negative, so if you showed signs of bruising, it would not be from a medical treatment, and likely the work of vampires. As medicine has progressed, they have adapted to use blood donation as a way of evading detection. It was possible a vampire was abusing you in such a way and was periodically using a thrall to ensure Geroge had no idea anything was amiss.”
She could only stare at him. Memories of being strapped to a table came floating back to her. She snapped back to reality as Lockwood squeezed her shoulder and brushed a wing along the side of her neck. He fluttered down onto her lap and she found she could not stop herself from reaching out to touch his soft feathers.
“…No one’s done anything to me,” she murmured as she held on to him.
“I am relieved to hear that, Miss Carlyle,” answered Barnes.
He and Wade left after that, having seen everything they needed to. She let them out dazedly before making her way back into the sitting room to reclaim her spot on the couch. Lockwood had already shifted back before she got there.
“Luce,” he called, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“Barnes just brought up some bad memories?”
“Yeah.”
He sat next to her and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. They sat together for a moment in silence.
“How does enthralling someone work?” she asked suddenly.
Lockwood heaved a sigh. “Direct eye contact is essential,” he explained in a soft voice, “Without it, a thrall will not work. But vampires who can enthrall others are also able to compel people to look them in the eye, so it’s very difficult to resist looking at them. Taking complete control leaves people as…mindless slaves, unable to think for themselves.”
“You said you didn’t take control of them…”
He threw her a sad look. There was no doubt he knew what she was talking about. “That’s because I didn’t. I used my thrall to alter their memories, and ensure they knew nothing of either you or me when they woke. That is what a periodical thrall can do; and that’s what Barnes was talking about.”
“So…vampires can take complete control, but everyone will notice if they have. Or they can…make sure you never remember anything is wrong,” she whispered.
“Are you worried I’ve done that to you and George?” asked Lockwood softly.
Immediately her head shot up. “What? No, of course not.”
He gave her a soft, thin-lipped smile.
“Do you think I think you’ve done that?”
He turned his face away from her. But his shoulders were not tense like they had been in the past when he thought she was afraid of him. “…I still don’t understand how you trust me so much.”
She stared in wonder at him for a moment before smacking him.
“Ow!” he yelped, “What was that for?”
“For being stupid again.”
…
George came home in a bit of a huff. He had not been able to get any of his normal research done. Barnes had him detained the second he stepped foot in headquarters, and a bunch of agents had then proceeded to cross-question him in an effort to find out if his memories were all intact.
“Course, it wasn’t really better after they realized I wasn’t missing time,” grumbled George. “That just meant that I could be in cohorts with a vampire who was using you as a personal buffet knowingly.”
George had stayed locked away until Barnes returned with his report that she bore no signs of being fed on, or of having blood drawn recently.
“You might think it’s overreaching,” placated Lockwood at dinner that night, “But I’ve seen those precautions save more than a few magicals over the years. As well as flush out entire communities of sympathizers.”
George heaved an aggrieved sigh. “I know that. It’s just annoying when there’s nothing actually wrong.”
…
The next time they were due a delivery from Arif’s shop, she opened the door and was surprised to see Laura standing there instead of their normal delivery girl.
“How have you been Lucy?” she asked while giving her a one-armed hug. She still had the box of donuts in her other hand.
“I’ve been good,” she said, smiling as she returned the embrace.
“We haven’t seen you at the shop in a while,” admonished Laura while they exchanged donuts for money. “Arif was getting worried.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by.” She knew Arif worried about her. He also was not completely oblivious to the fact that there were dangerous things that surrounded her. She should have thought to argue for the chance to visit, so he would not start to worry. “There’s just been…a lot going on. I’m…the guys and Flo have been helping me work through some things.”
Laura gave her an understanding smile before hugging her again. “Well, I hope you can get whatever it is sorted soon. We’ve missed your visits.”
She wholeheartedly promised to come by as soon as she could. Once Laura left and the door was closed, she resolved to find Lockwood and see if that puppy-dog-eye trick really would work on him when Geroge was not there to run interference. But he was already standing in the hall behind her, waiting.
“Have you been there this whole time?” she yelped.
“No,” he said, laughing slightly at her surprise. “But I heard what you and Laura were talking about.”
Now was her chance, she summoned the saddest, most pleading look she could muster and directed her gaze towards him. “Can’t I go for a short visit?” she asked, “Arif doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough to worry when I drop off the face of the map out of the blue.”
“Luce,”
“We can wait for the weekend, and I’ll walk over with Geroge, and you can follow us as a bird, and we’ll go in the middle of the day so it’s not so risky –”
“Luce,”
“Or Flo can come over, and I can go with her, and you can still follow us –”
“Lucy!” called Lockwood, cutting her off.
She fell silent, but not before dialing up her pleading look to 10,000.
Lockwood rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I’m not going to stop you from walking down the street in the middle of the day if you really want to go,” he sighed. “Just promise me you won’t go alone, and you’ll tell me when you leave, ok?”
She smiled in triumph. “I promise.”
Her and Flo went out the next day to visit the shop, and spent most of it chatting and laughing with Arif and Laura. Lockwood perched across the street and waited for them. He flew over and landed on her shoulder when they finally emerged from the store, tickling her ear in retaliation for making him wait for so long.
…
While they waited for George to help her mask her veinous magic, Flo set about training her how to use it. Since they now knew she was a seventh-seventh daughter, Flo started teaching her more advanced healing magic. She struggled with it more than she did some other things they tried, but she could normally make it work. They were able to agree that she could be very good if she wanted to pursue it long-term, but it was not something she particularly enjoyed.
“I don’t think I could become someone like Dr. Bowman,” she mussed after one such lesson.
“Fair enough that Love,” agreed Flo. “S’not for everyone, healin isn’t. Never bad to know how to do it if you’ve got the strength, but we don’t need to do any more if you’re not findin you like it.”
In a sort of compromise, Flo taught her enough that she could stop bleeding from open wounds, and slow internal bleeding. It was enough to allow someone who got hurt more time to get to an ordinary doctor, or a more experienced healer, but not so difficult as completely healing an open wound would be. Her mapping had suggested she would have the strength for such things, but she did not want to go that route. Did not think she could handle it if she did.
Instead, they focused on magic identification. She was quickly becoming very adept at it. It did not matter how subtle the enchantments were on the objects Flo randomly hid around the house, she always found them. The more they practiced in that way, the faster she got.
One afternoon found her drawing in the library. Flo had already been and left for the day, having set her an enchantment scavenger hunt that ended up lasting only a half an hour. “I don’t think you’ll need me for too much longer Love,” she commented, “Once we’re able to train your resistance to black magic again you’ll do fine by your lonesome.”
George had said she should not test her resistance to black magic again until she had managed to completely mask her veinous magic. She was not there quite yet, but she was proud of what she had managed to accomplish.
When she eventually tired of drawing, she absentmindedly pulled out the healing charm necklace she still wore. It really was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. She wondered absently at exactly how it worked. She could always ask George to explain it. But then again, she also had another option.
There would certainly be no harm in looking at something like this. The memory of her first lesson with Flo came back; but she was much more experienced now. The call of the beautiful magic in the charm had been strong, but she knew how to respect it. It certainly could not hurt to look.
She grasped the charm in her hand and closed her eyes to focus. Whistle, rustle, howl, waves crashing. She drew up her power, and reached toward the charm with it; cautiously, slowly, respectfully. The lilting sound of singing reached her, as it had the first time she had tried this with the charm. She knew to stay back from it now – to not loose herself in the music.
Peeling back the layers to find the information hidden within was almost too easy for her now. It was a mix of ancient and what would have been new magic at the time. There was a vein of power meant to calm aggravated lungs. It made sense, given that the charm had been made for Lockwood to help him when he was sick. Healing meant to sooth restless magic. But it was more complex than that. Magic was usually restless for a reason. She tried to pry deeper, to find out everything she could. And then she was not seeing the magic of the charm any more. She saw nothing now at all.
Coughing of a small child echoed through the room, intermixed with half-formed bird calls. It did not sound good.
“Oh Anthony,” called a woman’s gentle voice. It could almost have been the same voice that sang the song of the magic in the charm. “It is still happening?”
A cough that turned into the caw of a bird. “I don’t feel well Jess,” wavered the voice of the child.
“I know,” soothed the woman – Jess, or Jessica. Lockwood’s sister. “I made you something, to help you feel better. Here.”
“…Don’t want…for girls…”
Jess chuckled softly at the boy’s quiet aversion to whatever it was she offered. “Tony, you silly thing,” she admonished, “Just because it’s a necklace, does not mean it can only be fore girls. Look, it’s magic. You always like seeing new magic.”
Coughing sounded through the room again, just that much less intense than before. There was no half-formed bird sounds now though. It sill did not sound good, but it no longer sounded quite as bad.
“I…didn’t shift…”
“See Tony? That’s what this is for. It makes it so your magic won’t be scared any more. It’ll stop you from shifting without meaning to.”
“…Will…it stop me if I try?”
“Of course not. It’s not a bind Anthony, it’s a balm. It will help you get better.”
She gasped as she opened her eyes. Her gaze fell on the glimmering surface of the silver charm hanging around her own neck. This…was not just a relic from his past that Lockwood kept. His sister had made it. The magic attached to it sang with her voice. She wondered if Lockwood could sense her in it still, all these years latter. It was proof that a caring girl had once existed who could make such beautiful things. He had given it to her.
“Luce?” called Lockwood as he came down the stairs. “Are you alright? I could smell your magic very strongly just now. What happened?”
She was still frozen in place, holding the charm in her closed fist. She gazed over at him with a startled expression.
He took a deep breath in as he walked into the room, scanning her over for something amiss. “You smell the same way you usually do after you’ve had a vision. Lucy?”
“Is your fist name Anthony?” she blurted. Lockwood froze in place and gave her a wide-eyed look. “It is, isn’t it?”
“How…what…did George tell you that?” he stuttered.
“George didn’t say anything,” she breathed. “I heard it. I was practicing identification on the charm, and I heard it. I heard when your sister gave this to you. She made it herself, didn’t she? It’s magic sings with her voice.”
Lockwood did not seem to know how to respond.
Chapter 45
Notes:
He-hem. Hold on a second guys, I think I got something in my eye...
Chapter Text
Lockwood’s state of semi-shock at her declaration about the charm persisted for long enough that she was worried she might have permanently broken him. He was saved from having to formulate some form of response by the return of George. They stayed frozen in place while they listened to the front door open and close. The clattering of George’s keys in the waiting bowl by the door rang out, followed by his footsteps down the hall. His nose was buried in his notebook, so he did not notice them right away.
He almost ran right into Lockwood before he even realized they were there. “What – Lockwood! Why are you just standing here?”
Lockwood seemed to try pulling himself back together. He gave George a close-lipped smile that came off as more of a grimace. “I…” he began, but trailed off looking uncertain of what exactly he had been meaning to say.
George threw a glance over his shoulder and saw her, still sitting there with her fist closed around the charm. The chain of the necklace dangled from her hand. “Lucy? What’s going on here?”
“I had a vision of when Lockwood’s sister gave him this charm when I tried practicing magic identification on it,” she blurted.
George blinked once, then twice at her. Lockwood still seemed to have his head in the clouds somewhere. Clearing his throat and pushing his glasses farther up his nose, George gave them both one last sweeping look. “This sounds like a conversation for which tea is in order.”
…
The kitchen was filled with a heavy silence. She had just finished telling George every detail she could remember of her vision. When they each settled down with a steaming cup of tea in hand, Lockwood had hovered on the peripheries. He seemed to be unable to decide if he wanted to be involved in this or not. In the end, he cautiously sat down and listened, hands clenched around his steaming cup.
“And this is the first time you’ve ever had a vision while you were awake?” asked Geroge.
“Yeah,” she hedged, thinking. “It also wasn’t as hard to clear my head once it was over.”
George was scribbling furiously in a notebook. “That at least may be because this is the first time you have instigated a vision on your own terms.”
“But I didn’t though!” she worried. “I wasn’t trying to have a vision, I was just –”
“You were trying to find information on the nature and/or the origin of the enchantments on the necklace,” cut in George. “You were looking for information, so your magic gave it to you; albeit in a way you did not originally expect.”
She rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. “Does this mean that any time I try doing magic identification from now on, I’ll end up having a vision?”
“It’s possible,” mused George, “But we’d have to test that to know for sure.”
…
She had flat out refused to test the theory until after she had eaten something for supper. The fervour of experimentation and new information meant that George could well have her busy until 5 in the morning. If she was to be the subject of his experiment, she was at least going to eat first.
It worried her a little that Lockwood had been so quiet throughout the whole thing. She had not meant to pry into his history – she had just wanted to practice. But now she had, and there was a piece of him she held that he had not given her. It made her feel sort of bad, especially since it seemed to have shaken him so much.
The second she was finished eating, George dragged her off to the warded room of the basement and started plying her with enchanted objects he materialized from his room. If she had not done so many magic scavenger hunts in the house, she would have been astounded by the number he apparently had squirreled away. As it was, she had sensed them a long time ago, and resolved not to ask any questions.
Rather than denting his enthusiasm, the fact that she had no more visions only made him more excited. “It’s fascinating,” he enthused, “I had thought that perhaps the age of an item might have something to do with triggering a vision, but some of these are older than Lockwood’s charm, and you haven’t reacted to any of them the same way.”
“And this is important because…?”
“If the age of the item has nothing to do with triggering a vision, then there has to be something else we’re missing,” he explained. “I will say that the amount of specific information you are able to get from all of these is impressive on its own. You’re not only able to identify the magic and its purpose, you can discern details about who made it and why. That’s another level of magic identification the vast majority of magicals could not hope to reach.”
She was exhausted by the time George finally let her go. She trudged up the stairs and into the kitchen for a late-night snack, and then she was going to go straight to bed. That plan however, flew out the window when she found Lockwood still sitting in the same position they had left him hours ago.
“Lockwood?” she called.
He seemed to startle as he looked up at her. “Hmm? Oh, Luce. Is there something you need?”
She watched him for a long moment. “Are…are you alright?” she asked.
He flashed her his normal, close-lipped smile. But it did not reach his eyes. “Of course.”
“No, you’re not,” she accused, “You’ve been sitting here in the same position for hours. I’m…sorry if you feel like I pried into your personal business –”
“It’s not like that Luce,” he whispered.
She watched him as that far-away look came over his face once again.
“I can’t even remember what her voice sounds like,” he finally admitted in a whisper. “I…haven’t heard her speak in…more than three centuries. Four, if you count the time I can’t remember.”
She did not know what to say.
“I haven’t used my given name in so long…” he continued, “To hear you say it…to know you heard her say it…”
She did the only thing she could think to do in this instance. She wrapped him in a crushing bear hug. He startled as she threw herself on him, but collapsed into it after only a second of hesitation.
“What…did she sound like?” he asked.
It was a whisper, a breath in her ear; like he was scared to ask, and even more scared to not.
“She sounded gentle,” she whispered back as she hugged him fiercely. “And like she really cares about you.”
“Cares”, not “cared”, because he was going to get that version of his sister back. She would make sure of it. She did not let go until he stopped shaking.
…
The next day she threw herself into her lesson with George with a never-before seen level of determination. Before she could make good on her unspoken promise to Lockwood from the night before, she had to master masking her veinous magic. Then she had to show Flo she could resist black magic.
She managed to hit the ground running, and before the end of the lesson George was remarking that she should have no trouble with vampires sensing her anymore. When Flo showed up, she decided they would test her ability to mask her magic by playing hide-and-seek with Lockwood. The point was for her to mask her magic as well as she could, and for Lockwood to try and find her by looking for the scent of her magic.
It actually took a couple hours for Lockwood to find her. Flo had stashed her inside George’s room. She stayed by the door because of the disaster zone the room was. For someone who was such a methodical record keeper, George’s room looked two steps shy of being a biohazard.
“I kept getting a faint sense of your magic around,” said Lockwood when they reconvened in the sitting room with Flo. “If I didn’t know it so well, I’d have thought you left the house entirely.”
“What’s next?” she asked. She was on a mission now, and she wanted to get through as much training today as she could.
“You’re an eager beaver today, aren’t you Love?” commented Flo. “Nothing more we can do today. Still got to train you to resist black magic. Other than Georgie’s experiments, s’only thing left you really need to know.”
“Tomorrow then?”
Flo regarded her for a long moment – no doubt wondering where her new enthusiasm was coming from.
“Tomorrow.”
…
When tomorrow came, she was still as determined as ever to master defending herself from black magic as quickly as possible. But now that she was on the brink of her first such lesson since the disaster of her original attempt, anxiousness had crept in.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine Luce,” soothed Lockwood at breakfast. As ever, he had picked up on her trepidation with his heightened senses.
“He’s right,” agreed George absently. He was scribbling something on the thinking cloth. “You were able to effectively hide your magic from him for hours yesterday. You’re ready.”
Lockwood squeezed her hand in reassurance, giving her a thin-lipped smile. This time, she squeezed back.
Flo brought a cab with when she came, and they all went to headquarters together. George wandered off to his research while her and Flo made their way to the training rooms.
“I spent yesterday scouring the stuff DSRAC’s got locked away for the least powerful dark magic relics I could find,” said Flo when they walked in the room. Against the far wall was a table set with five rune-covered boxes to contain the black magic from the relics within.
She eyed them a little uneasily, her hands suddenly feeling clammy. But she threw back her shoulders and raised her chin in defiance – she could do this. She had to learn to do this if she wanted to help Lockwood.
“So what’s first?” she asked.
Flo regarded her for a long moment. “First, we test your defences without throwing black magic right at you.”
And so they did. Flo had her do all kinds of exercises to test and train her magical defences. She threw blasts of power at her and nodded in approval when all they did was glance off her protections. More than half the day was spent in this way – Flo checking and double-checking that her defences were strong enough. She also made sure to test her defences of her veinous magic specifically; that was where she had gone wrong the last time.
When Flo finally deemed her ready, she told her to anchor herself and raise her defences. She waked over to the first of the rune-covered boxes and gripped the lid. “You ready for this Love?” she asked.
Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind.
“I’m ready.”
Flo opened the box.
The screeching of train wheels sliding along the tracks assaulted her. She could feel the magic pressing at her skin, trying to infect her veins as it likely had the last time. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, forcing up another strong bout of steam to defend her core, and calling forth hurricane force winds to blast outwards in defence of the rest of her body’s magic. She felt the recoil from the screeching as it bowled head-first into her crushing winds. The screeching wavered like a wailing child beating their fist against a glass window, wanting the sweets that lay beyond. But she was not going to open the door and let them into the store.
Suddenly, the pressure she felt against her skin evaporated. She fumbled for a moment, feeling like someone had pulled the rug out from under her. When she opened her eyes to look at Flo still standing next to the box, she staggered a few steps from sheer vertigo.
Flo watched her with a critical eye. “You alright there Love?” she prodded.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I feel fine. It’s just…”
“Yes?”
“I could hear it trying to get in,” she explained. “It started bawling like a baby when it couldn’t. And then the pressure disappeared, and I kind of…stumbled. I wasn’t expecting it to do that.”
Flo gave her an approving nod. “Good work there. Was watchin for anything gone wrong. You only fumbled when I closed the box cause you were overcompensating.”
“Is that bad?” she asked. She really wanted to get this right. Not only was it important for her safety, but she could not start helping George with Lockwood’s cure if she did not.
“Not bad exactly,” placated Flo, “But you don’t need to use quite so much power. Completely shutting down black magic is good to know how to do if you need to. It’s better if you can figure out what it wants and how to stop it from activating.”
She nodded in understanding. Recentering herself, she threw a questioning look Flo’s way to check if they were still going.
Rather than moving on to one of the other boxes, Flo reopened the same one again.
Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind.
She dialed back the force she put into her defences. The initial rush from the open box bowled into her again, screeching along the train tracks. She dug in her heels, keeping up the hissing steam and bellowing wind to force the screeching to a halt outside her skin. She did not throw every ounce of power at it this time – instead, she measured her force against the pitch of screeching. She only threw out more power to shore up her defences when the screeching grew in volume enough to become grating.
What did this magic prowling outside her skin want? She tried to peel back the layers and find the information she sought the same way she had learned to with normal magic. But this was black magic; trying to pin it down was akin to keeping hold of wriggling eel dipped in grease. It always slipped away before she could.
“…I can’t…it won’t stay still long enough for me to find it’s secrets,” she whispered, still trying in vain to get a good enough grip on the screeching.
“This is black magic Lucy,” she heard Flo call. “It’s not like the other stuff we’ve worked with. It wants to stay hidden. It won’t just give you it’s secrets.”
“What do I do?” she asked.
“You have to trap it,” said Flo, “You’ve gotta pin it down so it can’t run away. But don’t try and get all of it – all you need is a piece. It don’t matter how much, but the less you get the easier it is to pry it open.”
She took a deep, steadying breath. How could she separate a piece of it? It flew around her skin, searching for weak points it could use to pry its way in. She could not allow it past her skin. Anything she did, it would have to be projected outwards from her. Screeching of metal wheels on tracks tried once again to break through her defence. She had an idea. She let her howling wind mould around the pressure, reaching out and cupping it. The screeching grew in pitch; excitement suffusing it. But she was still the one in control. Once black magic filled the cup of pressure she projected out, she pressed forward with all her might, throwing up a hissing wall of steam and sunlight to block its escape.
Metal scraped along metal desperately, trying to stop. But she had a dime sized piece of it. The tiny ball of cloying blackness banged furiously against its new cage, beating its fists bloody in desperation as sunlight and warmth surrounded it. It cowered away from her walls, and when she reached forward to pry back the sound to see the information beneath, it had no strength left to stop her.
She had it.
“It’s an old piece of a train’s brake assembly,” she said, “The man who built it was angry the owner of his company had stollen his retirement fund to build his own country estate. The magic was meant to cause the brake assembly to fail, but only if the company owner was on the train.”
She opened her eyes and looked to Flo. Without saying anything, Flo picked up the relic still sitting in the box and showed it to her. She was no expert, but it did in fact look like some mechanical part from a trains wheel assembly.
“That was good work,” praised Flo as she returned the relic to its box and closed the lid.
…
They spent the rest of the day going through the other four items Flo had pulled out of DSRAC secure vaults. Each one was a different cloying, awful sound, underpinned with an incessant ringing she hated. But she managed to keep every single one outside her skin and away from her magic. It was hard work to break off a piece of that awful magic, and then force it to reveal its secrets. But she managed it for every one. She was nowhere near as fast with identifying black magic as she had gotten with ordinary magic, but that would surely come in time.
…
Lockwood was waiting for them in the sitting room when they finally got home. “Are you alright Luce?” he asked the second he saw her walk through the door.
She smiled at him and rolled her eyes. “I thought you said I’d do fine?” she asked cheekily. Who he thought he was kidding, she did not know. “I know you can sense my magic – does it feel like it went badly?”
He gave her a relieved smile. “I knew you could do it.”
“Now you’re just saying what you think I want to hear,” she accused, poking him in the chest with a smirk gracing her face. “I’m fine,” she breathed after a moment of maintaining her stern expression.
He gave her his standard, thin-lipped smile, his eyes sparkling all the while.
Chapter 46
Notes:
Fluff and George's enthusiasm. What more could you ask for? 😉
Chapter Text
“Hide me!” she whispered urgently when she dashed into the library where Lockwood was sitting quietly reading.
He glanced up sharply from his book. “Luce? What’s wrong?”
“George is doing it again,” she grumbled, looking around for a decent place to keep out of sight. Unfortunately, she saw no good options.
Lockwood, the absolute traitor, did nothing but burst out laughing. “Still trying to startle you into a vision with any magical relic he can get his hands on then, is he?”
She heard George’s steps coming down the stairs behind her. She could be annoyed at Lockwood for finding it funny latter, when the threat was not imminent. “Yes! Now stop laughing at me and help me hide!” she whisper-yelled.
He pressed his lips together thinly to stave off more chortling, but his eyes continued to dance. She was about to beg for mercy when he stood up and turned one of the large armchairs so that it’s back was facing directly towards the doorway to the hall. He patted the chair and motioned for her to come over.
George’s footsteps were getting ever closer, so she did not have the time to point out that a chair was not a very good hiding place. She dove for it, curling up as small as she could and praying that she could not be seen from the doorway.
“Hey Lockwood, have you seen Lucy around? I’ve got something I want to try with her.” called George’s voice a moment latter.
Lockwood walked forward out of her line of sight, cool as a cucumber and placed the book he had been reading on a table closer to the door. “Sorry, can’t say I have.”
It was almost convincing; but she thought she could hear an undercurrent of mirth interlacing his words.
George was quiet for a second. Oh no; if she could hear the amusement in Lockwood’s tone, George definitely could. “Right, so you’re not hiding her in an armchair anywhere in the room then?”
“Of course not!” exclaimed Lockwood dramatically, “That would be a terrible hiding place, wouldn’t it?”
She squeezed her lips as tight shut as she could, trying not to laugh and give up the ghost.
“Yes, it would be,” said George a little dangerously. “Well, if Lucy’s not around, I’ve got another idea on how to figure out your cure. Let’s go downstairs to try it out.”
“Um,” stuttered Lockwood.
Oops. This was an unforeseen consequence of their charade.
“Unless you do know where Lucy is after all?”
“…No,” signed Lockwood. “I don’t.”
“Brilliant, let’s go then.”
She waited to make sure the coast was clear, peeking surreptitiously around the corner. When she did not see either of the boys, she dashed back upstairs to her bedroom. She felt a little bad now that she had gotten Lockwood caught in George’s experimental crossfire. It made her stomach feel kind of strange when she thought about how he had not given her up, even when faced with the same unpleasant prospect she herself had been hiding from. Maybe she had eaten something funny for breakfast that morning.
…
“I know Lockwood was hiding you in the armchair earlier,” declared George latter when she was sitting in the kitchen, half-way through a cup of tea.
She chocked a little bit, putting the cup down as she tried to get her breath back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she tried with an innocent smile.
He gave her a very unamused look. “Sure you don’t.”
She had to remember to thank Lockwood for sacrificing himself for her.
…
Her and Flo were back in the training rooms in headquarters, still working with the same black magic relics as last time. “You’re goin to pick them up this time,” declared Flo once they were settled.
She twisted her fingers together nervously. “What do I need to know?”
“S’a lot harder to resist black magic when it’s in direct contact with your skin,” explained Flo. “Especially for you, what with your magic the way it is. Before, it was just about keepin the stuff back. If it’s touchin you, you’ve gotta keep your mind away from it entirely, not just outside the boundary. It’ll try slippin in to stop you fightin.”
They did not immediately start with her touching the relics. Flo wanted her to try shielding her mind from the black magic when it was only free in the room first. They walked through the differences between feeling and touching black magic, and how she could defend against each separately and together.
She was still somewhat nervous when Flo declared her ready to give touching the objects a try. But she needed to master this, as fast as possible, so she gritted her teeth and did it. She almost lost her grip on the first try. The same broken bit of wheel assembly screeching at her and making her fingers go ice cold. If felt like there was a drill trying to pierce through her shields – one that kept glancing off and scoring gouges into the surface around its intended entry point.
Flo pried the thing out of her hand after only a few minutes, and then plied her with some magic tonic she’d gotten from Dr. Bowman ready for today. She was grateful for it; her head stopped pounding once she swallowed.
“…I think…I need a break,” she wheezed after gulping down the potion.
“Course Love,” soothed Flo, “Lunch breaks probably in order by now.”
…
She felt normal again after their lunch break. Flo continued to have her work with the relics the rest of the day, but she only made her hold one once more. It was not quite as bad the second time. But she was still distracted from everything else by the feeling of a ringing screeching trying to drill its way into her skull. Flo gave her more of the potion, then declared them finished for the day.
Lockwood hovered over her the whole night when she returned home.
George rolled his eyes at him when he caught him at it. “Lockwood, Lucy’s fine,” he sighed. “Flo made sure to have the correct healing tonic ready for her during their lesson, and she took Lucy to Dr. Bowman immediately after to make sure she was alright. He would have kept her at the clinic if there was anything wrong.”
“I really am fine,” she offered, shooting him a smile accompanied with a raised eyebrow.
He sighed distractedly. “I know your fine,” he admitted, “But I can still tell what you were doing affected you today.”
She dropped her eyes back to her sketchbook feeling a little warm. If she had cared to look, she would have noticed the crease forming between George’s brows as he surveyed them over the top of his comic book. But neither her, nor Lockwood noticed, and George hid himself away before too long.
…
“I’m finished,” she declared the next morning at breakfast.
Both the boys seemed to pause as they shot her confused looks.
“Ok?” hedged George. “What are we talking about?”
She slid over the drawings of the two faces she had seen in her vision. It took a moment for everyone to connect the dots, then George was snatching them up quick as a flash.
“Those are beautifully detailed Luce,” praised Lockwood. He shot her a close-lipped smile while she tried to hide her heated cheeks.
“Is this one the vampire?” asked George, pointing to the drawing of the wild-haired youth.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
Both the boys were silent as they examined the face in her drawing. His hair stood up in spikes around his head, making him look a little like a matted porcupine. His eyes were sharp and wild, and the image she remembered showed him sporting a vindictive sort of gleeful smile. The corners of his mouth were twitching up, not yet revealing fangs, but about to.
George had noticed when she mostly finished the basic sketch of the facial features, and had tried to whisk them away then, declaring them good enough at that point for what he needed. But she had not even almost started in on the shading of the facial features; they were not ready yet. The resultant snarling and smack he had gotten had convinced him to never touch her drawings.
Lockwood had sniggered at him when it happened. “Best not to touch an artists work before they’re ready to share it George,” he said, chuckling.
At that point she fled the room with her cheeks burning; she did not think of herself as an actual “Artist”. She just liked drawing. It made her feel all kinds of funny inside that Lockwood has such a high opinion of her abilities.
“These really are quite impressive Lucy,” agreed George as he scanned over the two faces again. “I’ll spend today looking into this – I think I know who these people are, but I wanted to wait for your drawings to be sure.”
Lockwood shot him a searching look. “That sounds ominous,” he commented. “That you wanted confirmation before revealing who you think they are.”
George shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s ominous,” the enthused, “But it’s still something that required corroboration.”
…
She stood holding an old hairpin enchanted in black magic to make the hair of any unsuspecting girl who used it fall out. Normally something like that would be more trickster magic than true black magic; this was the latter because it made your hair fall out by drying your scalp to the point the skin died. Apparently, an old hag had been very jealous of a much younger maidens luscious locks.
She grit her teeth against the invading sound of dry skin catching and cracking underlined by incessant buzzing trying to brute-force its way into her mind.
Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind.
Every time the sounds of black magic made another run at her, she blew forth the warm steam protecting her core. Her veinous magic carried it along, fast as lightning, zapping any probing tendrils with a shock of heat and light before it could get any real handhold.
While all this was happening on the peripheries of her magic senses, Flo was circling her, hurling magic blasts her way. She had to keep the other girl in her sights – if she did not, she would have no way to pull up a defensive shield in time. Flo had nearly gotten her a couple times, but she was managing to hold firm.
“I think I’ve about had it,” panted Flo after maybe 20 more minutes of the double onslaught.
She swatted away another attempt to break through her defences by the hairpins magic. At Flo’s comment, she let her physical shields drop completely and set the hairpin back in its warding box.
“From the looks of things Love,” called Flo, still a little out of breath, “I’d say we’re pretty much done with regular training for you.”
She beamed across at her. Yes! This meant that the last obstacle to her helping George with Lockwood’s cure was finally gone.
“There’s just one last thing we gotta do,” continued Flo.
“What’s left?” she asked. Her trepidation was mixed with elation of her success. If Flo had been saving something for the very end, it would not be easy.
Flo went over to the table with the other warded boxes and pulled a particularly heavy one from the back. It clanked loudly when she dropped it on the front of the table and turned to her. “We’ve been through a lot of different kinds o’dark magic by now. The only one left is blood magic.”
She blinked at Flo. “That…doesn’t sound good.”
“S’cause it’s not Love,” declared Flo, “Not at all. But it’s the strongest kind of black magic there is, and you could be in real trouble if you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s basically the same as everythin else – just with one difference. Never touch an object charged with blood magic. Once it makes contact, there’s no stopping it. And in your case, it’d be even more potent.”
She nodded in understanding, eyeing the box Flo had brought out suspiciously. “I’m guessing that whatever’s in there, it’s charged with blood magic.”
“You’d be right,” agreed Flo. “I won’t lie to you Love – even with all the training we’ve done, blood magic might be to strong for you. I’m not dumb enough to pick this thing up, and I sure as hell won’t be makin you do it; but you should get some practice warding it off anyway.”
She breathed in to centre herself and ready her defences. Flo watched her with a critical eye.
“Ready?”
“As much as I can be.”
Flo however, shook her head. “For this one Love, that’s not good enough. Either you’re ready, or you’re not. Which is it?”
She thought about her answer. Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind. “I’m ready.”
Flo continued to eye her for a second longer. Then she was opening the box.
She staggered backwards at the ear-piercing screams of agony that erupted the second the lid cracked open. Instinctively, she slapped her hands over her ears. But the sound was magical, not physical, and the gesture was completely useless in dampening the volume.
He had lusted after power. He wanted no one to be able to stand in his way. But there were always those who were not willing to tell him the things he needed to know to get ahead. So he made something terrible…something that would ensure none of them could resist him. It would flay their skin open if they refused to speak, set their blood alight with acid should they dare to defy him. Hundreds had died to this horrible thing – he had sacrificed 20 children, all younger than ten summers to make it. But that was only the beginning of it.
She shrieks of agony and terror were so overwhelming, so nausea inducing that she reacted without thinking. She slammed her power forward like a battering ram, knocking those terrible sounds aside. Hissing steam and howling, hurricane force winds barrelled forward. She felt her magic slam into something darker than the blackest night. It shrieked like a banshee at the contact with her boiling water and hot air. The wailing sound echoed as if in a canyon for several reverberating seconds. And then…silence. Complete and total silence.
She cracked her eyes open to see if Flo had slammed the warded box closed to block out that terrible magic. Instead, she saw Flo staring into the box with a curious, surprised sort of expression.
“Um…Flo?” she called uncertainly.
Flo swung around to give her a considering look. “Well Love,” she mussed, “Can’t say I expected that.”
“What?” she worried, “What happened?”
Rather than answer her, Flo tipped the warded box on its side, dumping out its contents onto the table. They spilled out like vicious needles of obsidian, jet black and forbidding. Exactly 20 pieces – one for each child that had died to create the enchantment.
“Didn’t think too much of it when your mapping suggested you could be a curse-breaker,” drawled Flo. “Looks like I should have. Hopefully, Barnes won’t yell at us too much for breakin it.”
…
When they fessed up to Barnes about the black magic relic, he was blessedly not angry. In fact, he was perhaps the most not-angry he could have been. On another person, it might have even been joyous celebration. On Barnes, it ended up coming across more like the absence of criticism.
“You managed to break the enchantment and shatter the relic completely with a single blast of instinctual magic, all without meaning to or straining yourself?” he demanded in the least brisk way he could have.
She rubbed self-consciously at the back of her neck, giving him a sheepish smile. “Um…yes?”
He made her go see Dr. Bowman while he dealt with the shards left over from the relic.
“Well my dear,” said the doctor once he was finished prodding at her magic. “Looks like you left you little battle without a scratch. There’s nothing wrong – not even the slightest hint of strain. You’re good to go.” He smiled at her as he shoed her off.
Wade was waiting with George and Flo outside the medical wing for her to take them all home. George looked so excited, she would not have been surprised to see him spontaneously combust from vibrating so hard.
Chapter 47
Notes:
So...a couple characters just decided to show up and demand to be included, and I couldn't say no. 😁
Chapter Text
Lockwood was waiting for them when they shuffled in the door after being dropped off by Wade. “What happened?” he demanded the second the door closed behind them. “Why did you have an escort home instead of just taking a cab?”
His eyes scanned over her, then George, then Flo before coming back to her.
Flo gave him a considering look while she spoke. “Cool your jets there Locky, nothin bad happened. Girlie here just ended up making a bit of a show for everyone is all.”
Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. He continued to shoot her evaluating glances anyway.
“Tea,” commanded George, “And then a debrief. Are you going to stay for this Flo?” he threw over his shoulder as he herded everyone else towards the kitchen.
Flo shook her head. “Nah Georgie. I’ll come by tomorrow. You lot can fill me in then.” With that, she waved as she turned and left the way she had come.
Once they were all seated around the thinking cloth with steaming cups of tea in hand, Lockwood demanded his answers. “Alright. What happened today?”
She ran her finger absent-mindedly along the rim of her cup. “I still don’t really get why it was such a big deal,” she murmured.
Of course, it did not matter how quiet she spoke, Lockwood was still able to hear her. “What was a big deal then?”
“Lucy somehow managed to instinctively break a blood magic enchantment and shatter the relic it was attached to on her first crack at protecting herself from blood magic,” answered George. His eyes were alight with a feverish kind of intensity.
Lockwood turned a gobsmacked expression from him to her, then back again. “What!?”
“That’s essentially the same thing I said when I heard,” offered George.
Her cup made a ringing sound as she continued to run her finger along the rim. “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal…”
Lockwood seemed to make the effort to collect himself before his hand fell to her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You remember how your mapping said you had the strength necessary for curse breaking?” he prompted.
“…Yeah. Both you and George told me not to worry about it.”
“We told you not to worry about it,” began George, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “Because the likelihood was that it wouldn’t make any difference to you. Obviously, that assumption was incorrect.”
“There are a lot of magicals, even today who still have the strength required for curse breaking,” explained Lockwood. “But the capability to be a curse-breaker is very different from the talent of being a curse-breaker.”
“The odds of a magical who is strong enough to be a curse-breaker actually having natural talent in the field is something like one in 10,000,” added George. “And, for whatever reason, being strong enough that you could be a curse-breaker has no bearing whatsoever on weather or not you actually can be one.”
Lockwood squeezed her knee again. He gazed at her with intense eyes. “Real curse-breakers are born Luce, not made. It does not matter how much you train – if you don’t have the talent for it, you will never be able to do it.”
She stilled her hands as her eyes fell to her half-full cup of tea. “…I guess I have the talent then…” she mumbled.
“There is no doubt you do,” declared George. “But you having the natural talent necessary for curse-breaking is not why what you did today was so impressive. You destroyed a relic of blood magic – on accident and by instinct. Blood magic is the most potent and most dangerous magic in existence. Doing what you did was no small show of power, Lucy.
“I’ve known Barnes for a years now,” he continued, “And when I saw him today…that was the closest I have ever seen him to actually looking happy. Blood magic is usually too strong for curse-breakers to handle; any time DSRAC confiscates a blood magic relic, they are basically forced to lock it away indefinitely. All forms of black magic can be used to incapacitate magicals in the wrong situation, but blood magic is the worst. That you can break blood magic curses at all is a very big deal.”
…
Now that they knew she was officially a natural-born curse-breaker, Flo started coaching her how to do it. “M’one of those people who’s powerful enough, but doesn’t have the talent for it,” admitted Flo during one of their lessons. “Was pretty determined to try and make it work once I got free from…well, you know…never could get the handle of it though.”
While she was not able to actually do it herself, Flo did know a lot about how curse-breaking was supposed to work. Over the next several weeks, they plodded up through the different kinds of black magic, starting from trickster, and ending on blood magic.
The hardest part for her was not the actual breaking of the curses; it was reeling in the flood of her magic and learning to finesse her control when she did. She ended up shattering more than a few relics – though, Barnes never seemed to mind it when she did.
“Well Love,” called Flo at the end of their latest lesson. “Anything else, you’ll have to figure out yourself. S’long past time I get back to my relic huntin.”
“We’re not going to have lessons anymore?” she asked, a little disheartened. She had just managed to break another blood magic curse without shattering the actual relic. Basically, that just meant she had not overcharged her curse-breaking magic again.
Flo chuckled quietly at her, giving her a conciliatory pat on the back. “S’nothin more I can teach you Love. You’ve got to stand on your own two feet now; but you know where to find me, if you need me,” she said, giving her a wink.
While they were on their way out of headquarters, Barnes appeared. “Miss Carlyle,” he called, “Might I have a word before you leave?”
“Um, sure,” she answered a little uncertainly.
Barnes had been taking a much more involved interest in her training since the first time she broke that blood magic curse and relic. But he had never before asked to speak to her alone like this. She did not know what this would be about.
Barnes led her down a side hall off the main lobby and into his office. It was a smallish room with every available surface covered in papers and files. Against the left wall stood multiple locked file cabinets, each one finished to a brilliant shimmer that made her suspect they were all coated in silver plating.
He motioned for her to sit down in one of the two available chairs in front of his desk while he went around and sat in his standard-issue office chair.
“You have made excellent progress under Miss Bonnard’s tutelage here,” began Barnes in his usual, no-nonsense tone. “Particularly with regard to curse-breaking.”
“Um, thanks,” she murmured, still not sure where this was going.
“By now, I think you’ve realized we have quite the store of cursed objects – something which presents a very large security risk for us, and for all the magicals in the city,” he continued. “In light of your successes, Miss Carlyle, DSRAC would like to offer you a position as an official curse-breaker for magic relics. Your help would be invaluable in removing the threat of these objects, lest they ever reach enemy hands.”
She blinked at the inspector for a second. She was about to decline the offer out of hand – taking this job would mean that she would not have as much time to help George and Lockwood with the cure. But then again, George worked at DSRAC to have money coming in. Lockwood had made good on his promise that she would want for nothing while she stayed with them, but she felt bad she had, as of yet, not been able to contribute anything worthwhile. If she took this job, it would mean that she would have money coming in – that she could start to pay back some of the kindness the boys and Flo had been showing her.
“What would I be doing, if I accepted?” she asked after a long moment of thought.
“The relic vaults in the basement of this building have been inching towards overflowing now for a number of years,” explained Barnes. “Most of the other curse-breakers we employ are unable to handle higher-tier black magic, so the majority of items in storage are the particularly dangerous ones. If you were to accept the position, it would be your job to work through the relics and neutralize the ones you can.
“You would be paired with a small team to help you and ensure your safety,” he continued. “A specialist magic identifier, a researcher, and a healer.”
“Could I work with George?” she asked immediately, perking up at the mention of working with a researcher.
Barnes unfortunately scowled a little. “I have someone else in mind,” he said, “Unfortunately, Karim and Mr. Kipps do not get along very well, and Kipps is the only healer we’ve got with combat experience and the skill required to help you should something go wrong.”
She deflated a little hearing that. “Can I think about it first?” she asked.
“Of course,” enthused Barnes. “We can meet again in a few days for you to give me your decision.”
…
“It’s going to start getting suspicious if she continues to not have any obvious way of making income,” pointed out Geroge. “You might not need to worry about money, but nobody else knows you exist. And they all know I don’t make enough to support the both of us indefinitely.”
The three of them were all sitting in the kitchen, dinner laid out and half-eaten between them. George had even set a spread of bloody meat for Lockwood – he had gone hunting the day before, but the harsh winter was making it difficult to find game, and he had come back empty handed.
“Curse-breaking can get dangerous,” said Lockwood stubbornly, “You’ve been doing well with Flo, Luce, but this will be very different. Exposing yourself to a continuous barrage of black magic relics every day could make you very sick.”
“Isn’t that why the team they want to set me up with will have a healer?” she prodded. “So they can keep tabs on me and put a stop to things if I start feeling sick?”
Lockwood folded his arms and gave her a stern look. “By the time you start showing symptoms of black magic poisoning, you’ll already be too saturated with it to be safe.”
“Lockwood,” sighed George, cutting into their staring match, “Lucy working in DSRAC headquarters is the ideal situation for her. It keeps her well away from the reach of other vampires, while also putting her in direct contact with anything she could need should things go wrong. Like she said, she’ll be part of a team which will include a healer whose sole purpose for being there is to safeguard everyone’s health and safety. The magic identifier and researcher in the team are there to ensure that nothing she can’t handle crosses her path. Yes, there are still risks. But that would be true at any other job she took. At least if she works at headquarters, vampires won’t be able to scope her out.”
The silence that followed George’s argument was sullen and absolute. Lockwood stared mulishly at the thinking cloth – unable to refute what George had said, but still resolved to stand against this course of action.
“Barnes said the vaults at DSRAC are overflowing –” she began.
“They are,” offered George, “Have been that way since before I joined up.”
“– And that a lot of the stuff in there is the more dangerous stuff nobody else can handle breaking,” she continued. “If I can break those enchantments, won’t it be a lot safer for other magicals? Vampires might not be able to get into DSRAC, but their servants can. They could always send them in to steal stuff to use against magicals. I want to help.”
Lockwood let out a heavy sigh. “You’re both right,” he admitted a little reluctantly. “Becoming a curse-breaker for DSRAC is really as safe as you could be. I won’t try to stop you, but I don’t have to like it.”
She beamed at him.
…
Now that Flo had officially declared her training finished, George was finally letting her in on his attempts to recreate Lockwood’s cure. While she was ecstatic she could finally help, it had its consequences. To make sure they were not re-hashing anything George already knew would not work, they went through all his notes together. Actually, “they” was a bit of a stretch – George ambushed her and made her read through them every day after work for a week. If she was not so determined to help Lockwood, she would have given it all up in exasperation.
She met with Barnes at the time he originally proposed, and told him she would accept the job as a curse-breaker.
“Thank you, Miss Carlyle,” he said when she told him. “Your help in this matter will be most appreciated.”
After that, they went through all the boring paperwork she needed to sign, and hunted down the proposed members of her new team to introduce them all. The magic identifier was a sever-faced girl around her own age called Kat Goodwin. She was brisk and professional, but Lucy had no idea if the girl hated her on sight, or was just like Barnes and always looked somewhat unhappy. The researcher turned out to be a pint-sized boy several years younger than her called Bobby Vernon. He was over-enthusiastic, and eager to please; she did not think she would end up liking him all that much either. The healer was perhaps the least objectionable of the lot – several years older than her with fiery red hair and a penchant for black turtlenecks that made him look like the stereotypical snooty architect. He was not unpleasant to talk to, but she resolved to reserve judgement on him.
…
“Barnes is paring you with Bobby Vernon and Quill Kipps!?” exploded George latter that night at supper when she told the boys who was supposed to be on her team.
Lockwood clearly found something in George’s reaction entertaining. He sniggered into his cup of tea from the end of the table – but he did have an uncertain look about him too.
She shot George a startled look. “…Yes?” she hedged, “What’s the problem with that?”
“Vernon’s no good,” growled George, “He misses things and never digs past the surface level.”
“You only don’t like him because he’s always showing you up,” commented Lockwood unhelpfully.
George rounded on him furiously. “He does not ‘show me up’! He grabs onto the first thing he reads, and then tries to make it sound to everyone else like it’s the whole story!”
Lockwood hummed in response, clearly unconvinced.
“I would think you’d be a little more worried about this,” accused George as he scowled at Lockwood. “Bobby Vernon is going to be in charge of research that – should it be done incorrectly – will absolutely endanger Lucy!”
“George, you’re overreacting,” soothed Lockwood, “Vernon is still one of DSRAC’s most successful researchers. I’m sure the Inspector would not be pairing him with Lucy unless he thought he’d do a good job.”
“Good job, my arse,” grumbled George under his breath. “We should still be worried about Kipps spending so much time with you,” he continued in a normal tone.
“Alright, what am I missing?” she asked, looking from one boy to the other.
George blew out a frustrated breath. “My reservations about Vernon aside; you can’t ever mention anything about Lockwood to Kipps.”
“I’d never tell anyone,” she said immediately, a little offended that George might think otherwise.
“It’s not that Lucy,” he placated. “Kipps hates vampires. He had a little brother who was also a magical. They were killed by a Rampager and…it wasn’t pretty. After it happened, he spent a number of years as a first response field agent helping to heal people who were attacked. I’ve butted heads with him before; he took offense to the paper I wrote last year arguing for the possibility that the soul could be returned to vampires as a means of curing them.”
Lockwood broke in when George was finished. “This Kipps won’t turn out to be a problem, Luce. As far as anyone needs to know, I’m a magical shifter who prefers to remain anonymous to stay out of the notice of vampires. It’s mostly true, anyway.”
She fixed George with a piercing look. “Do you actually have any problem with this Kipps or Vernon?” she asked.
George seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment. “No,” she sighed, “I don’t. But I reserve the right to oust Vernon from his place as your researcher if he ever puts you in danger because he didn’t dig enough.”
Nodding, she turned her eyes to Lockwood.
“It’s your choice Luce,” he said raising his hands in surrender. “If you feel comfortable working with these people, that’s all I need to know. But I will say that you should tell at least your magic identifier something about your past. If you ever happen to come across some curse that brings up bad memories, the black magic will be able to use that vulnerability to hurt you.”
Chapter 48
Notes:
*jeopardy music plays in the background*
This is what my brain is doing until we get to the really juicy stuff - Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Her first official day of working with her new team did not actually contain any curse-breaking. It was a chance for her to meet with the members so they could begin breaking the ice and formulate a plan for how they would work together. As the actual curse-breaker, it was also necessary for her to meet with Quill Kipps and Dr. Bowman so they could go over the relevant parts of her medical file. Kipps had to be given access to her information so he would be able to help if something went wrong. She did notice that her full mapping was not shared; they talked about her veinous magic, her strength and sensitivity, as well as the sensory inclination of her magic, but that was it.
The meeting with Bobby Vernon and Kat Goodwin went well enough. Kat might continuously look like she had just swallowed a lemon, but she was professional and direct in what she said.
“Bobby and I will be responsible for auditing the relics before you’re allowed to try and break the curses on them,” began Kat in her brisk tone, “We’ll provide you with all the information about the enchantments we can to make your job as the curse-breaker as easy as possible. The more you know about the enchantments beforehand, the less likely it is that something will go wrong.”
She nodded in understanding, but fidgeted with her hands in her lap for a second, trying to scrounge up the nerve to say what she knew she needed to. “Someone…mentioned that I should share with you…stuff from my past?”
Kat gave her an evaluating look. “Yes,” she agreed, “If there is anything traumatic you went through before that you think might make you feel vulnerable, we need to know. If an enchantment happens to trigger memories of the event, it could put you in serious danger.”
She dropped her eyes to her lap and tried to formulate her response. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bobby pull out a notebook and pen. He sat poised to take notes, watching her intently.
“…In my home town…I didn’t know what it was at the time…but there was a vampire attack…no one, no one believed me,” she stuttered, trailing off.
Bobby was scribbling in his notepad. Kat watched her for another few seconds before giving her a curt nod. “We’ll make sure to keep anything having to do with truth or belief away from you. Is there anything else we should know about?”
She started to shake her head, glad to be done with that. But then she remembered leather cuffs, needles, and a bag of blood. “I…”
“Yes?” prodded Kat gently. Her expression was still just as sever, but her tone had softened.
“…I was captured once. They…I…”
“Vampire servants, or actual vampires?” asked Kat.
“Vampire servants.”
Bobby gave her a sympathetic look before scribbling something else down in his notebook. Kat’s expression softened just the slightest amount. “Noted,” was her only response.
…
They all eventually agreed that Bobby and Kat would spend the first two days of the week combing through the vaults for things she might be able to break the enchantments on. The rest of the week would be taken up by curse-breaking. Kipps was adamant that she should not do more than one relic every couple hours – anything more than that, and the likelihood of her being too tired to protect herself properly was too high. Her cap per day was set at maximum of 4, but they would only do two for the first week while everyone got used to everyone else.
As they sat making their plan of attack, it turned out that Bobby did not have any actual magic. “An uncle I always really liked works for DSRAC. I found out about everything from him,” he explained when that little tidbit of information cropped up. “He’s the one that first recommended me as a researcher here.”
“If you don’t have any magic at all, you should stay away from the relics as much as you can,” cautioned Kipps. “You won’t have any sense if you get personally attacked, so it’ll be much harder for you to protect yourself.”
The general rule they agreed on was that no single one of them was allowed near an open warding box alone. Since Bobby did not have any magic, he was not allowed near an open box unless at least one of the people he was with was Kipps. She was not allowed to do any active curse-breaking unless both Kat and Kipps were with her. It seemed a little overly cautious, but they also had no idea what they might come up against. Better to be safe than sorry.
Once they had everything sorted out, Kipps shoed her off. “It’s better for you to not be around when Kat starts trying to identify relics,” he said. “You should save your strength for curse-breaking.”
“I can identify too,” she reasoned. “I learned how to do it. And I’m really good.”
“That’s not surprising,” commented Bobby. He was in the process of heading out with Kat to comb the vaults for their first tasks. “Most curse-breakers are also good identifiers.”
“Curse-breaking is a lot rarer a skill than identifying,” agreed Kipps. “We can’t afford to exhaust you before you get to any actual breaking.”
“But what do I do in the meantime? The rest of you all have something to do; I’d just feel lazy if I left now.”
“It’ll be different once we get into the swing of things,” offered Kipps.
“By next week you’ll need the extra time to rest,” stated Kat as she stuck her head back in the room. “Curse-breaking is liable to take a heavy toll on you. A ratio of rest-to-work is a minimum requirement under DSRAC regulation for an active curse-breaker. Once we get going, we might have to give you more days off than even this.”
“…Or reduce the number of enchantments you’re allowed to break per day so you can still get the needed rest while working more often,” continued Kipps.
Since there did not seem to be any point in arguing further, she gave it up and went home. Commiserating about the regulations she faced with Lockwood was only so effective; he was happy to let her rant, but he fully agreed with all the precautions put in place to protect her.
“Why is everyone being such a worry-wart?” she grumbled latter that night.
“Because curse-breaking is actually really dangerous and the regulations are necessary for your protection,” commented Geroge from behind his comic book when he finally did get home. He said nothing else on the matter.
…
By the end of her third day of active curse-breaking, she no longer had any complaints about the restrictions everyone was putting on her. Kat and Bobby were purposefully giving her relics with less-powerful enchantments. Everyone could get a feel for how things were supposed to work with less danger of something going wrong.
She was fine after the first day. She headed home after work and eagerly helped George try out another idea he had for replicating Lockwood’s cure – it had not ended up working, but at least they had tried. The second day she did not feel any more tired than she had after a normal day of work in either of her other jobs. By the time Friday night rolled around, she was woozy and tired.
Kipps plied her with some healing tonic that helped in the moment. He sent her home with strict instructions to call the clinic at DSRAC if she still felt so bad before she went to bed.
She did not have the energy to shoe Lockwood away when he started hovering over. “Is this why everyone was clucking after me the whole week?” she asked from her exhausted slump on the kitchen table.
“Yes,” was George’s only response.
“Luce, are you just tired, or do you actually feel woozy?” asked Lockwood from his place next to her.
She rolled her head to peer at him from around her arms. “Just tired,” she yawned. “I felt a little woozy after today’s second relic, but Kipps gave me some tonic that helped.”
“Tell us if that feeling comes back,” ordered George as he set supper down in front of her.
…
Her second week at DSRAC saw her team changing the plan on her. Rather than have her work for three days solid, she was allowed one relic on Monday and Tuesday, had Wednesday to rest, and then two relics each on Thursday and Friday. The spread allowed her the time she needed to recover from the previous week. It also meant she was not so exhausted by the end of Friday that she needed healing services from Kipps.
…
“Didn’t you say you already knew who the people from Luce’s visions were?” asked Lockwood one morning during her second week working for DSRAC. “Whatever happened to that?”
“I’ve confirmed who the man was you saw,” offered George, “But the vampire is proving more difficult. I’m almost certain I know who he is – the problem I’m facing is there does not seem to be any record of him. Even records of ‘animal attacks’ around when I think he lived are sparce. I don’t like it.”
“How long ago was it? Could it just be that the records haven’t survived?” she asked. She was halfway through her morning cup of tea, so she was marginally awake. Enough that she watched the boys talking through one eye with her head resting on her hand at least.
“That’s the thing,” enthused George, “With when I think that vampire lived, there should be at least some record. But I can’t find it.”
Lockwood watched him with a frown marring his face. “You think the information was deliberately destroyed.”
“Maybe,” offered George, “I can’t know for sure until I officially confirm who he was.”
“How’d you do that?” she asked.
“Still working on it.”
…
Three weeks into her job at DSRAC, Lucy knew for sure that she did not mind any of her team; but she did not think she would ever be inviting them over a spot of afternoon tea. Kat took her job almost too seriously. In a way, it was good. She had developed a knack for spotting enchantments that were harder for her to break. She and Bobby gave her those relics on the days she was only allowed one.
Bobby liked to act superior while also being a frantic squirrel. The information he did have had not yet turned out to be wrong, but she noticed more than once times when he was not quite right either. Like right now.
The sound of hacking coughs of suffering, dying people assaulted her. Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind. She used her veinous magic to draw along the burning steam protecting her core and forced the notes of the curse she was currently trying to break outwards and away from her. Kat told her it was a plague spell. Bobby had been able to dig up the information that the relic had been used to kill an entire town some 700 years ago. The information was good, but it was not the whole story.
She formed her power into spearheads of burning steam she directed towards the relic, trying to piece through it. She had to get inside the buzzing centre so she could smash its power tie – the thing that allowed it to continue working without the magic of its castor to fuel it. Steam hissed as a protective layer around her core. Magic churned in her chest as rouge waves in a storm at sea. Her veinous magic arched outwards in curling arms of wind that lashed her spears towards the relic, again and again.
Each spear struck true, ringing out with another voice that sounded like they were coughing up a lung. As her spears inched deeper into the centre of the relic’s magic, she learned. The relic was indeed one meant to start a plague – but it had not actually started it. 700 years ago, a small citadel in the countryside with a selfish lord was struck by a terrible illness. The people of the town were the first to be affected. Rather than sending aid to help the sick, the Lord ordered the town to be closed off. The sickness had barely begun to run its course, and might well have been cowed if help had been given. But the lord offered no help, and the townspeople suffered and died – all while the Lord himself was tucked safely away in his castle. The man who created the curse was heartbroken and angry. He had lost all his family, one way or another. His brother had been shot with arrows and killed when he tried to lead those still well in a rush for exit. When he finally fell ill himself, he made sure to send the Lord his “gift” – and so the whole town died of the same illness. But the townspeople caught it naturally.
A wet chocking sounded as she finally broke through to the centre, and the spell shattered around her, leaving silence in it’s wake.
She opened her eyes and wiped tiredly at the sweat beading her brow. With the cloying blackness of the magic gone, she tamped down her ragging power, silencing her core with a billowing blanket of snow and calming her veinous magic with sunlight and still air.
“That took you longer than usual,” commented Kat from her place next to the ward box the now non-magical relic still sat in.
Kipps was already dragging her off to the side where he forced her into a seat and began prodding at her magic.
“He didn’t kill the whole town,” she answered tiredly. She had long since resigned herself to Kipps’ prodding after breaking a curse. He was there to make sure she did not hurt herself – he could only really do that by examining her after each attempt.
“What do you mean?” whined Bobby.
She shrugged at him, gritting her teeth against the feeling of Kipps poking at her soul. It did not matter how often they did this, she was never going to like it. “The man who made the curse. Most of the town was already dead from the illness before he even made the relic. He wanted to get back at the Lord who caged them all in and left them to die.”
“Great dinner guests you lot’d make,” commented Kipps lightly. “Such riveting conversationalists.”
She scowled at him, but he ignored her and continued to check her over.
“Why is this relevant?” asked Kat. She looked to find the other girl giving her her undivided attention.
“You said it was a plague curse – that the whole town died. But it wasn’t just some guy being evil. He wanted revenge when he made that spell. That changes what I have to do to break it. That’s why it took me longer.”
Kat inclined her head in understanding, which by now she knew meant that she was taking everything she said under consideration. Bobby looked mildly offended for some reason.
“I don’t know how I could have known that,” she managed to hear him mumble.
Part of her wondered if George would have been able to figure it out without her telling him.
Chapter 49
Notes:
And so it beings...
Grab your socks guys, cuz we're flooring it now to jump the canyon, come what may!
Enjoy! \(〇_o)/
Chapter Text
December arrived with Christmas on the horizon, and for the first time in living memory, she thought she might actually enjoy herself.
“Did you want to go home and visit with your family?” asked Lockwood one afternoon once her and George got back from work.
She froze where she was working on a drawing and glanced at him from under her bangs. “I…wasn’t planning on it?” she hedged. Now she found herself wondering if her staying would be welcome.
Lockwood however, covered over the slightly awkward moment with his usual grace. “You’re welcome of course to spend the holidays here,” he said while giving her his characteristic close-lipped smile. “I’d appreciate the company.”
That caught her attention. “Where are you going then?” she shot at George.
He glanced up for the first time from the notebook he was riffling through. “Back to my folks. Just three days. I’d invite both of you over, but nobody’s supposed to know about Lockwood, and my sister might start to get funny ideas if I bring home a friend that’s a girl for Christmas. She’d try and meddle.”
Lockwood nearly collapsed from laughing so hard at the horrified face she gave George.
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” she said weakly.
She threw her eraser at Lockwood’s forehead when he only continued laughing. She smiled and gave him a predatory grin when he startled as it hit him square in the forehead. He was too busy to have seen it coming.
…
“Well, fancy seeing you here Love,” called Flo from across the lobby of DSRAC.
She waved as the other girl caught up with her. Both of them were headed in the direction of the offices.
“Hey Flo,” she called, “What’s brought you into headquarters this time?”
She had seen Flo a number of times while working as a curse-breaker. Normally when she was on her way out, Flo was just making her way in with her spoils from combing the banks of the Thames.
Flo shrugged at her. “Seems I’ve been summoned by the powers that be,” she answered nonchalantly. “Barnes sent word he wanted to talk.”
She glanced at Flo out of the corner of her eye, realizing they were both headed to the same place. “Sergeant Wade came by at one point today and told me Barnes wanted to see me when I was finished work.”
“Is that right?” she asked. “Seems somethin’s up, then.”
“Should we be worried?”
“Nah,” said Flo waving off her worry. “If it was somethin bad, Barnes wouldn’t have just sent a request to meet him.”
Before too long they were knocking on the door with the silver plaque reading “Inspector Montague Barnes”.
“Enter,” they heard called through the door.
They both filled in as Barnes set aside whatever report he had been working on. “Ah, Miss Bonnard, Miss Carlyle. I was expecting to have to speak to the two of you separately. It’s good that you’re both here together. Please, sit.”
He motioned for them to take the two seats stationed in front of his desk. Looking around, she noticed Wade standing off to the side observing the scene as she was want to do whenever Barnes was around.
“What’s all the fuss about then Inspector?” asked Flo. She plopped down into one of the chairs and immediately stretched, lounging about the same way she did in every other situation.
Barnes’ normal scowl seemed to turn more wooden as he watched her. He made no comment on it though, no matter how much he looked like he wanted to.
“I have a proposition for the both of you,” he said instead. “I have reason to believe you have been keeping track of the Winkman’s recent movements, Miss Bonnard. Am I right in that assumption?”
At the mention of the “Winkman’s”, Flo’s easy demeanour evaporated. In the blink of an eye, she went from lounging about without a care in the world to sitting ramrod straight and fixing Barnes with an intensive stare.
“If you were?” she challenged.
Barnes eyed her dispassionately for a long moment before continuing. “What would you say if I were to offer to allow you to lead a mission to retrieve a dangerous relic from the possession of the Winkman’s, with the full support of DSRAC behind you?”
Flo licked her chapped lips as the gazed unflinchingly at Barnes. “What kind of relic?” she asked.
She was surprised Flo had not already jumped on the opportunity. She knew what the Winkman’s had done to her. But maybe that was reason enough for her to be cautious about this.
Barnes sighed as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “We have received intelligence that Winkman has come into possession of a magical relic supposedly capable of influencing any magical within a 50km radius once activated. This relic takes control of affected magicals, causing them to seek it out, in a way not dissimilar to the control experienced when enthralled by a vampire. We need you to find out where and when the Winkman’s plan on making the sale of this relic.”
“Why am I here?” she asked. She glanced back and forth from Flo to Barnes.
“You have shown yourself to be an invaluable curse-breaker, Miss Carlyle,” continued Barnes as he switched his primary focus to her. “We need Bonnard to find out when Winkman makes their move; we need you to get inside the auction and break the enchantment on this relic before any vampires or vampire servants have the chance to get their hands on it.”
…
“This is not happening,” rumbled Lockwood. “You – neither of you are doing this. It is too dangerous! And you Flo; I thought you had more sense than this! You know what the Winkman’s are capable of.”
Her and Flo went back to Portland Row together to find the boys waiting anxiously for them. George had gotten home at his usual time bearing the news that both she and Flo had been summoned to Barnes’ office. Since nobody knew what the whole thing had been about, they were worried.
The initial explanation is what led them here. George sat in the corner of the room hidden behind one of his comic books. It was very obvious he was not actually reading; the comic was upside down. Lockwood paced agitatedly in front of them, steaming from his ears. Her and Flo sat on the couch watching him stubbornly.
“Course I know what they’re capable of Locky,” snarked Flo, “S’why I want to do this and help out. If this relic they’ve got is the real deal, think how much damage it could do.”
“I am thinking of that,” he rumbled, “I’m thinking of how at the first hint of trouble, they could activate the relic and use it on you. And then you wouldn’t be able to do anything to save yourselves. This is too dangerous!”
“I can look after myself Locky,” snapped Flo.
Lockwood looked ready to tear his hair out. “I have no doubt you can,” he tried to placate. “But you are not trained for this sort of thing Flo. Even if you were, there would still be dangers that can’t be avoided. I do not want to see you hurt or, God forbid, collared like that again. Please, for the sake of my sanity if not for your own safety, reconsider this.”
Flo did not relax her body language, but she did cast her gaze away from Lockwood.
“And you, Luce,” he continued fervently, “How can you be considering this? Walking right into a black market relic auction!? Where everyone there will either be a Covenist Vampire, or working for them!?”
“Won’t be no vampires at this one Locky,” cut in Flo. Her face was still turned away, but she was watching Lockwood pace through the side-eye. “Winkman won’t trust vampires not to start an argument over this one. If the relic is real, only humans will be allowed in.”
Lockwood ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “That does not preclude vampire servants’ entrance, which is not better.”
She twisted her fingers together in her lap, but made no comment.
“Luce,” implored Lockwood, “You must realize, this is madness.”
“But I’m the only one who might be able to break the enchantment,” she pointed out. She gazed fixedly at him, refusing to back down from this. This was right, even if it was dangerous. “This relic is supposed to be able to take control of magicals and draw them to it – if it was activated, even on accident, every magical in London would be in danger. Including me, and Flo, and George. I can’t just sit back and do nothing when I might be able to do something to help.”
“If you must help, tell the Inspector to send in his agents that are trained for the job to retrieve the relic and bring it to you so you can break the enchantment. There is absolutely no need for you to put yourself in danger and actually go to the auction!” he insisted.
“Lockwood?” called George. He had finally given up his charade and set aside his comic book.
Nobody paid him any notice.
“But sneaking me in to break the enchantment is way safer than stealing the relic,” she continued undeterred. “I just have to be in the same room as the relic, I don’t even have to touch or see it. It never takes me that long to break an enchantment.”
“That is not the point -!”
“LOCKWOOD!” yelled George.
Everyone startled as they finally noticed him facing them all.
“What!?” snapped Lockwood as he rounded on him.
“Will you calm down for five seconds and listen to me?” snipped George.
Lockwood gave him a wounded betrayed sort of look. “You can’t seriously be supporting –”
“SIT!” growled George, pointing at the nearest chair with his glasses flashing.
Lockwood blinked at him for a moment in stunned silence before he huffed and did as told.
“Thank you,” he sighed as he pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “Now that everyone has gotten their frustration mostly out of their system, I would like to point out a few things.”
Lockwood opened his mouth then, as if to say that he was not even almost finished being frustrated. But George gave him a warning look and he fell silent. Flo had turned to watch the scene play out, but said nothing.
“Firstly; Lockwood, you don’t know Inspector Barnes. He absolutely knows how dangerous what he is asking Lucy and Flo to do is, and he would not have asked lightly. He probably knows more about the Winkman’s than everyone here except for Flo – a fact which he is smart enough to have figured out, hence his request.
“Barnes is very committed to the protection of the magicals he is put in charge of, and he’s something of a massive stickler for the rules. That he even considered asking Flo to lead this investigation, when she is only barely associated with DSRAC, is something that needs to be scrutinized. Adding in the fact that he asked Lucy to go into an actively unsafe environment to break a potentially highly dangerous enchantment on a relic is even more worrisome.
“The way I see it, there are only two options here for Barne’s actions,” continued George into the silence of the room. “Either someone has somehow gotten to him – which I can’t see being the case because there is no way someone managed to buy off Barnes – or, he’s worried DSRAC is somehow compromised and that if they went with the safer options, the relic would be lost before it could be destroyed. Technically speaking, Flo is not a part of DSRAC, and does not have to follow its rules. Lucy is a talented magic identifier and curse-breaker, and probably the only one alive today who would be able to destroy a relic as powerful as this one is supposed to be.”
“You think DSRAC has been compromised?” she asked to break the ringing silence that greeted George’s explanation.
He turned from Lockwood to give her his full attention. “I don’t know Lucy,” he sighed. “There should have been no way for you to pass unnoticed by DSRAC for as long as you did, and Barnes knows that. That you turned out to be a curse-breaker just makes it that much more worrying. Is this simply a symptom of rural agents getting board or loosing their nerve? That seems too simplistic of an explanation. The higher ups in DSRAC did react in outrage when your story started getting out. Whatever the reason may be, Barnes, a high-ranking officer within DSRAC has decided the safest option for the protection of the magicals in London is to outsource this particular job beyond the confines of his available agents.”
No one said anything. Lockwood looked unhappy. Flo did not seem to have blinked since before George had started talking.
“If you were trying to convince me not to do this, you didn’t do a very good job,” she finally commented.
“That was not my intention,” offered George. He cast his eyes back to Lockwood.
“You are not going in there alone,” declared Lockwood. “I am coming in with you. And any DSRAC agents will have to deal with staying far enough back that the Winkman’s won’t notice them hanging around.”
Chapter 50
Notes:
Is it weird that I didn't see this one coming, and I'm supposed to be the one writing this story?
Chapter Text
No one was able to get Lockwood to back off on his condition of coming with them. George had made a valiant effort of it, but it did not end up amounting to anything.
“I am not staying behind on this just because people ‘are not supposed to see me’,” he growled when George tried to make the point.
George could not argue against this without also pointing out all the reasons her and Flo should not go either. He gave up after that. “I’m going to see if I can find anything on this relic Winkman is supposed to have. It’s not a good idea to send Lucy in there to break the enchantment with nothing but a vague description of what its ‘supposed’ to do.”
Flo slipped away when no one was looking. Ostensibly, she was off on recon to collect information on when and where the sale of the relic was supposed to happen. She suspected another reason for Flo’s disappearance though – it looked like Lockwood would be dogging both their steps until this job was over.
“Lockwood,” she called quietly once they were alone. “I know you’re just worried about our safety, but Flo and I have made our choices. We know the risks, and we’re willing to take them. Can you at least grant us that?”
Lockwood sighed and gazed at her with shining eyes. It struck her in that moment how long he had actually been alive; he might look around their age, but he was not. He spoke and acted as any normal young adult would. It meant she often forgot he was much, much older than that. Right now though, she could see it in his eyes, the years weighing down on him.
“I know I can’t stop either of you from doing this Luce,” he sighed, “Even if I want to. I just wish that good people didn’t have to be brave.”
She blinked in surprise at that response before dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap. Twisting her fingers together, she whispered, “You think I’m brave?”
Despite everything, she saw Lockwood give her a soft, thin-lipped smile. “I know you are,” he asserted. “You’re willing to risk yourself on the chance of breaking an enchantment that could endanger every magical in the city. And it is only a chance, because we have no idea if you actually can do it or not.”
“It’s not that brave,” she breathed, “I’d be in danger too.”
“I’ve lived long enough to know that most people prefer the act of burying their heads in the sand over standing up and doing something about a threat. Even when they are directly affected. I can’t see you doing that, Luce.”
…
For the first time practically since she had met him, Lockwood went out that night. She ran into him on the stairs when she was about to go up to bed.
“You’re going out?” she startled.
Like the gentleman he still was, Lockwood had moved aside to let her pass the moment he saw her. “Yes,” he sighed. “Since you and Flo insist on doing this; I’m going to try and secure an invitation to the Winkman’s sale of this relic. That way, you won’t have to worry about getting in or out – just that you stay unnoticed when you break the enchantment on the relic.”
“You’re just going to go talk to them?” she worried.
He gave her a reassuring close-lipped smile. “No, of course not. I have another idea. I’m going to send them a message they won’t be able to ignore.”
She worried at her lip. Is this how he felt when she told him she had decided to do this dangerous thing? “Is this a good idea?” she asked instead of voicing her other misgivings.
His fingers found her wrist in the half-light of the stairway and gave it a comforting squeeze. “It’ll be fine Luce,” he soothed. “I’m a daywalker. That alone affords me a high status in the vampire community. If the Winkman’s receive a direct request from a daywalker for information about this supposed relic, they won’t be able to deny it. At least, not if they want to avoid facing a fierce backlash from the rest of the vampire community for the insult.”
She still did not really like this idea, but she held her tongue on it. Instead, she stole a quick hug before rushing off to her room. As always, Lockwood startled when she initiated such close contact before relaxing. She was already half-way up the stairs by the time he caught up enough to have tried returning the gesture.
…
If anyone asked her, she had a wonderful night’s sleep. There was no tossing and turning, no worrying over what hairbrained scheme a certain someone was getting up to. And there was certainly no trepidation over knowing that her protector was gone for the night. Nope, definitely not. Especially not that last one.
“You look awful,” was the first thing that came out of George’s mouth when she dragged herself downstairs for breakfast that morning.
Still too tired to be properly snarky, she shot him a one-eyed glare – her other eye was currently being rubbed into something like openness by one of her hands – and grumbled at him incoherently.
In response, George examined her like a specimen under a microscope while she fumbled her way through making tea. It was not concerning that there was no steaming cup waiting for her. Nope. Not concerning at all.
“Did you not sleep well?” asked George. He had to return his attention to the eggs on the stove, but she still felt him eyeing her.
“I slept fine,” she growled.
“Right,” said George, “And that’s why you look one ridiculous haircut away from a rabid wolverine.”
“I will drown you in this glass of milk,” she threatened. She had already given up on trying for tea. Maybe she would be able to make one in a few years when she finally woke up properly.
“I should hope no one’s drowning anyone in any form of liquid,” called Lockwood’s voice from the doorway.
She spun around so fast, she spilled the milk. Leaping back and letting out a stream of curses, she set about cleaning up her mess. It took about one and half tea towels before all was well. At least she had not spilled it on herself. That would have been a great start to the day.
While cleaning up her mess, she tried to shoot covert glances Lockwood’s way. As usual in the morning, he looked all crisp in a fresh suit. He made for the toaster right off. She must be hungry, with how her stomach was turning.
“Did you just get back?” she asked.
“You went out last night?” called George. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Well, you were so focused on your research, I thought it best not to disturb you,” shrugged Lockwood. “I ran into Luce on my way out. I came back just after sunrise.”
“What were you doing?” asked George while he plated out the eggs.
“Securing an in for the relic sale.”
George pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt.
“Would have been back a lot earlier, but I ended up getting caught having to play vampire politics,” continued Lockwood without realizing. The toaster popped, revealing the classic slightly burned toast.
“What do ‘vampire politics’ look like?” she asked. George was suddenly listening avidly.
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing really. Some upstart vampire from the Blackfriars Coven decided to try throwing his weight around. He couldn’t have been more than a 50-year-old vampire and wasn’t very strong. I trapped him and waited for the sun to come up to prove a point, and then left him in an abandoned building with a message for his coven that I don’t appreciate the supposed challenge.”
She stared at him as he placed her freshly buttered toast down in front of her. “Does stuff like that happen often?”
He shot her a reassuring close-lipped smile. “Not usually. But with the current news, the covens are all going to try intimidating each other to scare off their competition before the sale even starts.”
…
If she thought she would only have to worry about people being overprotective worry-warts at home, going into work that day proved how very wrong she was. Almost the second she got in to headquarters, Kipps ambushed her and dragged her into an empty room for a talk.
“What’s this I hear about a mission to infiltrate a relic auction?” he demanded the second the door closed behind him. He stood there with his arms crossed looking like a disapproving parent.
“Not you too,” she whined. She had gotten enough of this last night from Lockwood. She was not about to sit here and listen to the whole ‘you can’t do this, you need to be careful and stay safe’ spiel again. “Also, how did you even find out about that?”
“From Barnes,” said Kipps while scowling at her. “I trained as a field agent, and am your assigned first-response healer for any and all curse-breaking work – which includes this farce of an assignment.”
She glared at him, putting her hands on her hips and lifting her chin in defiance. “You talked to Barnes. What exactly about this assignment makes it a ‘farce’?”
Kipps glowered at her. “Do I really have to answer that? I can’t believe Barnes is putting that ‘Flo Bones’ in charge of this –”
“What’s wrong with Flo?” she snapped, cutting right across Kipps rant.
“Oh, come on,” whinged Kipps as he rolled his eyes. “You’ve seen her; always covered head to toe in muck she dragged in from that rusty bucket she calls a boat.”
“Watch it,” she growled. “Flo is my friend.”
“She is a vampire sympathizer!” sneered Kipps. “She’s gotten into fights over it! Some tosh about ‘helping vampires get their lives back’, and ‘we should be trying to save them, not dusting them’.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” she challenged. “Every vampire who’s ever existed is a murder victim who doesn’t necessarily –”
“They are not victims!” screeched Kipps. “Being turned is considered an honour among vampire servants; they agree to it, they want it!”
She stood resolute in the face of this new side to Kipps and crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. “Not everyone who’s a vampire now was one of their servants before they were turned. And even if they were, they were still people once.”
“Those people died,” said Kipps harshly, “They can’t come back.”
“And if they could?”
He scowled at her, his eyes flashing. “I see Karim has gotten to you with his nonsense –”
“It’s not nonsense if it’s real,” she snapped. “Everything is impossible if you refuse to try and prove otherwise.”
“You don’t know what I’ve lost to those things!” snarled Kipps.
“Neither do you I,” she growled menacingly. “You don’t see me going around and blaming every last one of them for something they didn’t even do.”
…
She was still fuming when she abandoned Kipps to his paranoid ranting. She marched straight to Barnes’ office and hammered on the door. He opened it after only a few seconds with a harried look on his face.
His expression seemed to fall back into his more usual indifference – but then he caught sight of her expression. “Miss Carlyle,” he hedged, “What, may I ask, brings you here?”
“Just to let you know – I refuse to work with Quill Kipps any more. He is a paranoid bigot who insulted my friends,” she ground out.
Barnes stared at her for a solid second without reacting. “Carlyle,” he began before stopping. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully in the face of her anger. “Without a first-response healer on your team, I cannot allow you to continue curse-breaking.”
She nodded, already having assumed that this would be the case. “Fine then. I assumed as much.”
“…This also precludes you from being able to aid Miss Bonnard on the assignment I gave the two of you,” continued Barnes after a moment.
She faltered for half a second. “Would that still be the case if I had a friend who’s already said they’re not letting me do anything unless they’re there who can keep better watch on me than Kipps ever could?”
“Would it be possible for me to meet this friend?” asked Barnes cautiously.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
They stood there staring at each other for a long moment.
“Does this friend and George’s mystery-friend happen to be one-and-the-same?”
She hesitated for a single heartbeat. “If it was?”
Barnes considered her. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, “You can still help Flo with her assignment. But you are barred from any other active curse-breaking until such a time as we find you a new first-response healer you will work with.”
Chapter 51
Notes:
We have broken the 50 chapter mark, my friends!
Chapter Text
She did not head home right off after talking with Barnes. She was not sure where she was going, but it was the middle of the day, so she was not too worried about it. Before she knew it, she found herself standing in front of the door to Arif’s shop. A cold wind bit at her exposed skin as she stood there. Shivering, she tucked her hands under her arms and worried at her chapped lips.
Arif did not actually know anything about the life she was living now. But he had said she could always come to him. And he knew enough to know that things were complicated for her.
She pushed the door open, hearing the tinkling of the bell as she did. Laura looked up at the noise from her position behind the counter and gave her a wide smile. “Lucy! This is an early visit, what brings you here at this time of day?”
She smiled at the older woman, accepting the hug she was given once she fully made it into the store. “Something happened at work and I had to leave early today, is all,” she said.
“I hope it’s nothing too serious,” worried Laura.
She shrugged. “It’s not all that bad. The team I was working with just sort of…fell apart…and we can’t work until we get a replacement.”
“What’s this about replacements?” asked Arif. She turned to see him making a beeline for them from the back room with a bright smile on his face. “I hope nobody is trying to oust your position at your new place,” he whispered as he hugged her.
“No, nothing like that,” she placated. “Just a disagreement with a teammate that was bad enough, I don’t think we can work together any more. My team can’t work until we get a replacement.”
Arif considered her for a long moment. “Why don’t you come back to the office and tell me all about it. I’ve got some of your favourites stashed back there for just such situations, little missy.”
She allowed herself to be steered into the back room. Several biscuits in with a steaming cup of tea, she started talking.
“He was so aggressive about it, and it’s not even like he actually knows anything about Flo!” she lamented. She eyed the tin of biscuits with interest, trying to decide her plan of attack for which one to eat next. “And then he started acting like George was some conspiracy loon! And he’s not – he’s probably the smartest person I know. Definitely smarter than Kipps.”
Arif sipped at his own cup as he let her rant. When she ran out of steam, he finally offered his thoughts. “There’s more to it though, isn’t there, little missy?”
She scarfed down a large gulp of tea and stared at the little remaining fluid. “…Yeah.”
Arif was silent while she gathered her thoughts.
“It’s just…Kipps showed me how biased he is against…people with a certain…illness, I guess…He doesn’t even think of them as human any more. And the worst part is…he’s sort of right about that. But there is a way to help them, and he won’t even hear it. He just hates them, because of how he lost his brother.”
“Does this Kipps know about this cure?”
“…He at least knows some people think it’s possible…”
“But you have proof it actually works?”
“…Yeah…”
“And you can’t share this with him?”
“…No…”
Arif hummed as he considered her. “I can’t say I really understand the situation you’re in there, little missy. Maybe this ‘Kipps’ character will come around eventually, but maybe not. Do you think you did the right thing, telling him off like you did?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. This at least, she was sure of. “It’s not always their fault, no matter what Kipps likes to tell himself.”
Arif nodded. “Then I don’t think there’s anything different you could have done, little missy. You pointed out your viewpoint – what he does with that is up to him now. And there’s no point in trying to make a team work when some members have such a fundamental difference of opinion where one party won’t listen to anything the other has to say.”
…
She stayed and chatted with Laura for a bit after her talk with Arif. She felt slightly better about herself now. “I think I’ll be headed home now,” she sighed when she looked at the time. “They guys will get really worried if I’m still out with sunset so close. Especially if they heard about what happened earlier today.”
Both Arif and Laura sent her off with even more hugs and a box of George’s and her favourite donuts. The wind had picked up outside when she left the store. Unfortunately for her, it just so happened to be blowing directly into her face as she made her way back home. Her nose was red and runny within the first few steps, and her cheeks stung from the biting wind not long after that. She trundled on with her head bent against the wind, watching her boots crunch the frost along the pavement the two feet she could see in front of her.
“Hey! Carlyle!” she heard a voice call.
Squinting against the frigid blast in her face she saw Kat forging her way through the elements towards her.
“…Goodwin?” she hedged as she watched the other girl approach.
Kat fell in beside her and the two of them continued onward into the wind.
“I hear you fired Kipps,” began Kat, her usual scrunched-faced scowl in place.
“Yeah, well. He insulted all my friends,” she grumbled.
It was a few laboured steps before Kat said anything else. “I hear you also got into it with him about vampire rights.”
“No,” she growled, “I ‘got into it’ with him about common decency.”
The steps of Portland Row finally came into view and she stopped to face Kat before going up them. “Is there something more you want to talk about inside the house, or can I go now?”
Kat’s eyes ran over her face. “I’ll come in, if you’ll allow it.”
A small worry niggled itself into her gut as she turned the key in the lock. “George!” she called once the door was open. “We’ve got company!”
It was still too soon for George to be home, and she knew that. She was pretty sure Lockwood would have noticed a foreign set of footsteps approaching the house behind her, but it was never a bad idea to be careful. To her great relief, a white breasted bird flew out and alighted on her shoulder as she kicked off her shoes.
“Yes, hello,” she smiled. “It’s just you home then?”
Lockwood of course could not answer in this form. Instead, he started tickling her behind the ear again, and she swatted him away while laughing.
“Stop that you menace,” she ordered as he hovered in front of her. Her hands landed on her hips as she glared at him. “Shoe! No more tickling!”
He flew off back towards the library.
“Where’d you get the pet bird?” asked Kat from over her shoulder.
For a moment she had forgotten about the other girl. “Oh, um, well. He just sort of, found me one day.” It was the truth, after all. More-or-less. “Do you want tea? Or maybe a biscuit?”
Kat shook her head. “No, I’ll be leaving soon. I knew you weren’t about to stand outside in the cold and have a conversation. That’s the only reason I came in.”
“…Ook, do you want to sit down?” she drawled, placing the box of donuts on the side table.
“No.”
This was exactly why she was not sure if she actually liked Kat. “What did you want to say then?”
“Bobby looked up the files. You’ve been involved in a vampire massacre, were directly attacked by a Rampager, and were abducted by vampire servants; you still think vampires deserve compassion?”
She scowled at the other girl. “Someone had to kill them to make them what they are. Don’t you think a victim of murder deserves at least a little compassion?”
“A lot of Covenist vampires agreed to die before being turned.”
“And Rampagers just pop out of the ground, fully formed then?” she snarked.
Kat only continued to watch her with the same unwavering expression. “Do you really think that restoring a vampire their soul would stop them from being dangerous?”
“It would give them back their mind.”
“Covenists keep at least part of their mind.”
“Rampagers don’t.”
Kat continued to watch her for a moment. She blinked and nodded to herself. “If I were to talk to Kipps and get him to apologize for what he said today, would you be willing to work with him again.”
She folded her arms and glared at her. “I would not.”
“You won’t work with him again unless he changes his opinions on vampires.”
“No, I won’t.”
Kat brushed imaginary dust off the hem of her jacket. “That’s all I wanted to know,” she said as she turned to the door. “And Lucy?” she called, her back still turned.
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good person.” With that declaration, Kat pulled the door open and left. Nothing of her presence lingered beyond the swirling blast of cold air from outside.
“What happened today?” asked Lockwood.
She jumped as she turned to see him coming out of the library. “Is there any chance you didn’t hear everything that was just said?” she asked as she grimaced.
He gazed at her with over-bright eyes. “Luce?” he prodded quietly.
“Um,” she stuttered, “Well…Kipps might have been a jerk…and I might have…told Barnes I refuse to work with him anymore?”
“You argued with him about vampires.”
“He started it after he insulted Flo, and then George!”
“You didn’t have to do that, Luce,” whispered Lockwood looking morose.
She crossed her arms and raised her chin in defiance. “Yes, I did.”
Despite himself, Lockwood huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s right, you know.”
Her brain screeched to a halt for a second before she understood what he must be talking about. “What?”
“You are a good person,” rumbled Lockwood while giving her a close-lipped smile. “One of the best I’ve ever met, in fact.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks in the face of Lockwood’s sudden intensity. “I don’t think I could claim that…”
“That’s part of why you can.”
…
“What the hell happened today?” demanded George when he finally got home. “I make a point of avoiding contact with anyone when I’m researching, and even I heard about some row between you and Quill Kipps!”
“It’s not like we had a screaming match in the middle of the lobby,” she defended.
Everyone was currently sitting around the thinking cloth in the kitchen. After their exchange in the front hall, Lockwood had drifted off with the promise of making a pot of tea. They were still in the process of drinking it when George came home.
“You may as well have,” commented George, “With the way Kipps was barrelling around in a huff for the rest of the day. Did you really tell Barnes you don’t want to work with him any more?”
“He insulted Flo! And you! And that’s not to mention –”
“That’s not to mention how he likes to conveniently forget that not all vampires are created equal, and some of them genuinely were victims of someone else’s heinous acts?” finished George in a calm tone.
She had just about fallen into her stride when he stole the rug out from under her. With the end of her rant already out in the air, she wavered on the edge of indignation for a long moment before slumping down in her seat.
“…Yeah, that,” she answered lamely.
George stared at her with his calculating eyes for a long second before he threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “Do you realize Lucy, that you’re the first person to properly call out Kipps’ complete lack of compassion for anything involving vampires?” he asked, his glasses flashing as he grinned.
She scratched the back of her neck bemusedly. “Sorry?” she said.
“Don’t be,” insisted George immediately. “That you objected to his prejudice purely on moral grounds is absolutely hilarious. I’ve tried the academic route with Kipps. It’s never once made a dent in his beliefs.”
Lockwood sat at the head of the table with his steaming teacup held under his nose watching the two of them. It made an audible clacking sound when he very deliberately placed it back on its saucer. “Should we be concerned about this Kipps?” he asked in a measured voice.
George turned his attention to him. “Yesterday I might have said ‘yes, we should be’ at this point – but Kipps actually hunted me down today and demanded to know what I’d been telling Lucy about vampires. We haven’t actually had much in the way of an in-depth conversation about the theory behind restoring a vampire’s soul to them; I saw no reason not to give him a truthful answer. When he found out that Lucy’s opinion about vampires was founded mostly on knowing how they are turned, and what happens when they die, he looked more annoyed than angry.”
“That’s not the only reason,” she mumbled. Lockwood shot her a covert smile.
“Am I wrong in assuming you would have still held the same beliefs if you had never found out about Lockwood?” asked George.
“…No…” she hedged, “It’s not fair to just kill them all. Especially since they’re not themselves, and there’s no way of knowing if they wanted to change or not.”
“This is why you annoyed him so much,” commented George. “Kipps can’t argue against you without dismantling your arguments on moral grounds, and I think he realized that he can’t actually do that. There’s never been a serious attempt by DSRAC to find a way of helping vampires, despite the fact everyone knows someone has to kill you for you to become one.”
…
The conversation seemed over at that point, but half-way through supper, Flo waltzed in.
“Lucy, Love, what’s this I hear about you letting good ol’ Kippy know what’s for?” she asked when she sauntered in to a seat at the table. She materialized a plate from somewhere non-descript and started helping herself to the spread George had set out. He did not seem to mind.
“How did you hear about that?” she asked in exasperation.
Flo laughed at her. “I keep my ears to the ground Love – there’s nothin ‘happens in the DSRAC rumour mill I don’t hear of. Is Barnes still gonna let you in on the job without a first-response healer in tow?”
George dropped his fork in surprise. “I completely forgot about that!” he exclaimed in astonishment at himself. “I’ll go back to headquarters right now and see if I can –”
“It’s ok,” she cut in before George could go barrelling off unnecessarily. “Barnes is still going to let me do the job. I’m just not allowed to do any other curse-breaking until he finds a replacement.”
Both Flo and George gave her funny looks. “How’d you swing that one?” asked Flo.
She shot a glance sheepishly towards Lockwood. “I might have…made it sound like someone would be there who could keep a better watch on my magic than Kipps ever could?” she tried.
There were a couple seconds where nothing happened. Then Flo started laughing while George looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Lockwood just blinked at her.
“Luce,” stuttered Lockwood, “I’m…no healer.” His face resembled the shock of someone who just had the paper wrapper of a straw blown into their face unexpectedly.
“I didn’t say you were,’ she rushed, “But you’ll still know if something starts to go wrong with my magic anyway, won’t you?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not –”
“And Barnes bought that?” asked George, apparently still stuck on the former point.
Flo had not stopped laughing.
“Well, he asked if he could meet you –”
“He WHAT –”
“– And I told him he couldn’t,” she continued over George’s shout. “And then he asked if you were the same as George’s ‘mystery friend’ –”
“Oh, god,” muttered George.
“– Which I didn’t exactly answer, and he just sort of gave up and said I could still go?” she finished with an awkward smile.
“I pity poor Barnes his sanity,” chuckled Flo in the aftermath.
“I pity myself my sanity,” muttered George darkly.
That ended up setting Flo off once again into a fit of giggles.
Lockwood’s hand found hers under the table. She looked up at his earnest eyes. “I’ll look out for you,” he promised.
…
What followed supper was a debrief on everything everyone had found in their various information-gathering pursuits.
“There’s definitely been chatter about a big auction for relics happening soon,” commented Flo. “And the rumours have all the hallmarks I’d expect if the Winkman’s were behind it. Haven’t yet been able to find out when or where it might go down though.”
“That I might be able to help with that,” interjected Lockwood. “I contacted the Winkman’s last night in my capacity as a daywalker interested in this supposed auction. When I go back tonight, they should have the information I asked for ready.”
Flo, rather than being happy about this, seemed to be rather annoyed. “Locky, tell me you did not waltz right up to the Winkman’s just to ask them to invite you!” she growled.
Lockwood raised his hands in surrender. “Of course not Flo, don’t worry,” he placated.
“Easier said than done,” grumbled George under his breath.
Lockwood did not miss the comment, and shot George a wounded look before continuing. “I used one of the brutish thugs they employ as security to deliver the message for me.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Lockwood, I don’t think that’s much better than showing up yourself.”
“Why do you lot all have so little faith in me?” he waxed dramatically, “I’m more careful than that!”
“No, you’re not,” the three of them all chorused at once.
He scowled around at them. “If you must know, I used my thrall to send one of their guards to them with my message. I ordered him to sleep once the message was delivered and to wake with his mind as his own with no memory of me or anything I said.”
Georged tapped his fingers on the table consideringly. “Doesn’t it take more finessed control to utilize a temporary thrall than a permanent one?” he asked.
Lockwood looked uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Yes,” he breathed, shifting uncomfortably.
George nodded. “Than doing what you did might actually make them more inclined to bow to your demands. Whatever else you want to call them, the Winkman’s are still human, and they certainly know better than to piss off a powerful vampire.”
“They act all tough against other people,” agreed Flo, “But when it comes to actual vampires, they’re more than a little wet. They’ll give you what you asked for.”
She worried her fingers in her lap as she listened. “I think…that Flo should still try to find out when and where the auction is happening through her own means, regardless of weather or not Lockwood can get it for us,” she mumbled.
George glasses flashed as he considered her. “Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Think about it,” she said as she glanced around at them all. “If the Winkman’s make sure there’s no way an outsider can find out about the auction, and someone breaks an enchantment on their prize relic, they’ll get suspicious. It’ll make getting out really dangerous because they’ll know someone is inside who’s responsible. We need Flo to be able to independently figure out when and where it’s happening, both so we don’t raise questions with Barnes or DSRAC we can’t answer, and so anyone that actually goes into the auction has plausible deniability.”
Flo whistled in appreciation. “Those are good points Love,” she praised, making her smile.
“Should we be concerned about how much thought you seem to have put into this?” asked Lockwood lightly. His eyes were shining with amusement as he ribbed her.
“Only if you ever really annoy me,” she answered offhandedly. She shot Lockwood a winning grin that was just to steps past crafty.
He laughed at her, shaking his head.
“Alright then,” cut in George, shooting the both of them a look. “So, Lockwood will secure us a means of getting the two of you into the auction without needing to use any subterfuge, and Flo will independently discover the time and place we can relay to DSRAC.”
“Do you think we should actually tell them when it’s happening?” she asked. “Barnes might not be willing to let us go in on our own, and it’ll be too dangerous to try and smuggle in a normal DSRAC field agent if we go in like we’re planning.”
“Leave wranglin the old boss to me Love,” called Flo, “Barnesy put me in charge of this show – if he didn’t want no one to go off-script, he should have picked one of his agents to take leader. If I say no agents in the vicinity, there’ll be no agents.”
George pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. “I don’t think we can plan anything else until we have more information; and everything will have to change if the Winkman’s end up snubbing you, Lockwood.”
He waved his hand unconcernedly. “They won’t do that. If word got out about it, there’d be backlash from every coven in the city for the Winkman’s. I doubt they want to risk that.”
“Even so,” sighed George. “We should each continue with our individual tasks and reconvene tomorrow when we know more.”
“Flo?” she called before everyone had the chance to shuffle off.
“Yeah Love?”
“Would you need some help with recon tomorrow? Barnes has banned me from active curse-breaking until he can find me a replacement, so I don’t actually have anything else to do.”
“Luce –” began Lockwood, already looking worried.
Flo considered her for a long moment. “Probably best if you don’t Love,” hedged Flo, “We don’t want any of Winkman’s goons to recognize you for when we send you into the auction; which they might do if they see you with me out canvasing the neighborhood.”
“Is there really nothing else I can do?”
“You can help me research the relic they might have,” offered George.
Lockwood relaxed immediately. She sighed when no one else offered her any other options. “Yeah, alright.”
Chapter 52
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning dawned crisp and bright and bitingly cold. She huddled under her warm blankets for longer than usual – she knew without even opening her eyes that the attic air would be cold. She did not want to deal with that right now.
The charm around her neck was strangely warm this morning, almost uncomfortably so. As she lay there, she felt a sort of tingling in the back of her mind like an itch that refused to go away. The more she explored the sensation, the more she realized that her magic was unsettled.
She pried her eyes open under the realization. The bottom of her window was scrawled with fern-like designs of frost in a frozen parody of a tropical painting. The tiny crystals glittered in the sunlight slanting through to her bed. Shakily, she rose to a sitting positing, prodding at her own magic. The power in her veins was blessedly content. It did not fizzle with any warning or lick of life; instead, it flowed through her in its usual dormancy for when it was not in use. Her central core of power was different. The silencing blanket was still firmly in place, but there was a crack in the ice, water oozing out as the pressure of the snow pushed down on the skin covering it.
When she managed to drag herself downstairs for breakfast, her charm still felt slightly warm and her magic continued to feel strange. Before she could even reach the door to the kitchen, it was flying open. Lockwood’s eyes roved over her from the doorway. “Luce? What happened? Are you alright? Your magic smells…strained this morning.”
He relaxed a little when his eyes caught on the silver chain still around her neck, and moved to usher her into the room to a seat.
George looked up from his notebook with a crease between his brows at the commotion. “What’s going on?” he asked while watching Lockwood fuss over her.
“Luce? Talk to us,” prodded Lockwood even as he pushed her freshly made toast and tea towards her.
She fiddled with a loose thread at the cuff of her pajamas and shrugged half-heartedly. She did not yet touch her breakfast. “I’m…fine,” she said. But Lockwood was still unconvinced. And now George was giving her his calculating look.
“Did you have another vision this morning?” asked George.
She shook her head. “No, nothing like that,” she sighed, “But my magic feels…weird right now.”
“Luce? Can you look at me?” called Lockwood from next to her.
He turned her chair slightly when she did so they were facing each other more directly. George watched them intently from his place across the table. “Are you ok if I try to see if there’s anything wrong with your magic?” asked Lockwood.
“Well, yeah, but what –”
“Lockwood’s a powerful vampire Lucy,” cut in George before she could stammer her trepidation any more. “Because you have veinous magic, he can use his senses to check if there’s something wrong. It won’t be as accurate as an actual healer’s assessment, but it’ll at least be enough to let us know if we need to take you to the clinic at DSRAC.”
“…Ok…”
“Just relax, Luce,” said Lockwood softly.
He reached forward carefully and took hold of her face, using his thumbs to push her chin up and bare her neck. His eyes were focused as he traced over her veins with his fingers, applying just the slightest amount of pressure while he did. Suddenly, her palms were sweating and her heart was rabbiting in her chest. She fought to keep her breathing even and the blush threatening to form off her face.
“Easy Luce,” whispered Lockwood as he moved to trace his fingers over her collarbones. He was careful to avoid touching the silver chain of her necklace.
She was not sure if her reaction was nervous or not. Lockwood was obviously assuming it was – he had no doubt picked up on her racing pulse and faster breathing. It only made it harder to fight the blush threatening to form when she thought about it.
She breathed a little easier when Lockwood moved to roll up her sleeve. He gently took hold of her wrist in one hand, turning her arm so her palm faced up. Unerringly, his fingers found the veins under the skin and traced up along their length with a light amount of pressure.
He let go when he reached her shoulder. But then the legs of his chair scrapped as he swung around to sit next to her. He held her in place with one hand while the other reached over and pressed just beneath her stomach.
Her cheeks were burning now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Lockwood still had that focused look on his face. He had not seemed to notice. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he shook his head and released her.
“I can’t sense anything wrong in your veinous magic,” he concluded as he reset his chair in the proper place. “And your core is too deep under the surface for me to be able to feel anything there. The scent of strain in your magic is fading now, though.”
She tried valiantly to hide her burning face behind her cup of tea to little avail. Only once Lockwood was no longer touching her did she notice that the strange tingling pressure in the back of her mind had almost completely faded.
“Lucy? Does your charm necklace feel warm by any chance right now?” asked George.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. She had completely forgotten he was there. Unbidden, her cheeks flushed anew as she gazed over the top of her teacup at him, still examining her with sharp eyes.
She coughed before taking a sip to stall for time as she tried to ensure her voice would not come out funny when she finally did speak. “What?” she asked, already having forgotten his question.
George’s face gave nothing away as he examined her. “Did your charm necklace feel strangely warm this morning?” he asked again.
Things finally registering, she shot him a puzzled look. “Yeah…yeah it did.”
“Does it still feel warm to the touch now?”
Absentmindedly she grasped the charm through the fabric of her shirt. “No.”
George pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “And do you still feel something strange in your magic?”
She blinked owlishly at him. “…No…”
He nodded as he replaced his glasses.
“What are you thinking George?” asked Lockwood.
“I’m thinking that Lucy’s magic was trying to show her a vision this morning, but the charm was stopping it,” he explained. “The strange feeling she was getting was probably it straining to get around the charm on her necklace. It started to heat up because of how powerful the vision must have been. It’s going away now because you were touching her bare skin, and we’ve already established that physical contact will break her out of a vision.”
“Yes,” said Lockwood after a moment of thought, “That would explain what I could smell when you came down.”
Half her cup of tea was already gone. At least now she could look at the boys without feeling like her face was going to spontaneously combust. “What does this mean?” she asked, a little concerned.
George pushed his glasses further up his nose. “It might be prudent to see if we can’t learn more about your visions. Would you be willing to get the report of your mapping out again so I can have another look at it? We spent most of our time on your veinous magic – we might have missed something important about your visions.”
…
Seizing the opportunity to escape, she zipped upstairs to dig through the drawer where the record of her mapping had gotten shoved. By the time she came back down she had managed to master whatever was making her heart flutter and calm down. Something had changed in the atmosphere between the boys in the time she was gone; it now felt awkward and strained between them.
“That’s great Lucy,” offered George when she handed over the report. “You don’t mind my looking through this again?”
She shook her head as she retook her seat and started nibbling on her toast. “No. You’ve seen it all before anyway.”
George gave her a curt nod before flipping through to the section he was looking for and began reading.
“Are you feeling alright now Luce?” asked Lockwood to fill the silence that had sprung up.
She swallowed before answering. “Yeah. Everything feels normal again. I’m fine.”
He gave her a thin-lipped smile while his hand fell to her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze.
She continued to eat her breakfast while she waited for George to finish. When the last piece of crust disappeared from her plate, George hummed in interest before flipping the report closed and handing it back to her.
“I was right – we glossed over that part about your visions. Theres an intersection between your abilities as a lodestone magical and your second sight. Well, second-hearing, as it were,” commented George.
She shot him a bewildered look. “Can you say that again, in simple terms this time please?”
George blinked when he looked back to her, having already started scribbling in his notebook. “Lodestone magicals have a stronger connection to the ambient magic in the world. Your capacity for visions is connected to those abilities.”
“Your visions might be coming from outside yourself,” translated Lockwood when he saw her staring at George with an exasperated expression.
George seemed deep in thought for a long time. Eventually, he shook himself and focused back in on the conversation. “If you’re having visions that are coming from ambient magic…we should probably stop trying to block them.”
“But those visions always leave me…well, they don’t feel very good,” she protested quietly.
“George might be right Luce,” offered Lockwood softly. “I don’t like how those visions affect you either; but we can help you train to call on them on your own terms. They’d be less overwhelming that way.”
“I don’t understand,” she murmured.
“Lucy,” called George. “If ambient magic is trying to show you something, that’s important. You already know that magic does not forget anything – that also means it sees everything. If ambient magic is trying to tell you something, there’s a reason for it.”
Lockwood squeezed her knee again, making her look up at him. “I think we can leave this conversation alone for now,” he declared. “We’ve still got the job with the relic auction to worry about. I think we should focus on that; at least for the moment.”
Both her and George murmured their agreement. She did so with no small amount of relief. Something about her visions scared her, in a way none of her other magic did. Maybe it was as George said – they came from somewhere else. It did not feel like a comforting thought.
“How did it go with the Winkman’s last night?” asked George. He readjusted his glasses for the new topic of conversation.
Lockwood grimaced a little and rolled his eyes. “They gave me everything I asked for. The auction will happen on Tuesday next in an old abandoned canning factory on the banks of the Thames at midnight.”
“If they gave you what we needed, why are you making that face?” she asked, poking him in the side playfully.
Lockwood swatted at her half-heartedly, his eyes twinkling. “I’m paraphrasing – there was a lot more grovelling and boot-licking in the message they actually sent.”
She blinked in surprise. “Why would they do that?”
“Daywalkers are top of the vampire pecking order,” explained George. “The Winkman’s are human. That Lockwood, as a daywalker, had to contact them, as humans, to find out about the auction is a very serious slight.”
“Even with the grovelling, they probably still expect me to deal them some sort of retribution,” commented Lockwood.
“Will you actually have to do something to them then?” she asked, a little worried.
Lockwood shot her a reassuring look. “No. I actually have a reputation among other vampires for not leaving any evidence of myself, which is highly respected. Covenists value discretion; the appearance of being so good at it works in my favour.”
“What other information did they give you?” asked George. He was already scribbling things on the thinking cloth. Idly, she wondered how he decided what to put in his notebook versus the tablecloth, since both were right in front of him.
“Most of the grovelling surrounded them trying to ask me not to come to the auction personally. Flo was right about them not wanting any vampires there, it seems. The day of, they’ll send out cloaks and masks to all attendees so everyone matches and identities are protected. I’ve already arranged with them the number we need and where they will be delivered.”
“I hope you did not tell them to come to the house here,” warned George a little darkly.
Lockwood looked outraged. “Of course not! That would put the both of you in danger, and that’s not to mention how it would be viewed to invite them to where I live. The Winkman’s and any of their hired goons are not sworn servants – no vampire or coven would let them near their residence. The only reason people like them would ever be invited would be…well…”
“If they were on the menu for the night?” she finished for him.
“So, basically, if you invited them here, everyone would expect you to kill them. Which is something you would not do,” offered George.
Lockwood shifted about in his seat looking faintly nauseous. “…Yes.”
“If everyone knows what a direct summons means, why on earth would anyone ever answer one?” she asked bewildered.
Lockwood grimaced and seemed reluctant to answer.
“Ignoring a direct summons would be seen as an insult, wouldn’t it?” asked George. “It would just prompt them being hunted down and killed instead.”
“Worse,” murmured Lockwood. He refused to look either of them in the eye. “A human ignoring a direct summons is looked upon not just as a slight, but a challenge of authority. It’s not tolerated. The response to such a challenge by a human is to hunt down the person they care the most about and either outright kill or turn them in front of you; it depends on who the person is, and how likely it is they would become a Rampager. If it’s likely they would, then you are restrained and left in the room with them…”
“…So you become their first kill…” finished George when it became apparent Lockwood would say no more. “Lockwood –”
“I just remembered,” rushed Lockwood, cutting off whatever George was about to say, “I have something I need to do.”
They both watched him flee the room. When she glanced over at George, expecting to share a bewildered look, she instead found him breathing heavily and rubbing at his eyes.
“George?” she asked, surprised. “What was that about? Are you ok?”
“I think,” he coughed. His voice was a little higher than normal. He coughed again, sounding more normal this time. “I think that’s a question you should be asking Lockwood, Lucy. But…I wouldn’t do it right now.”
…
George had clearly figured something out from Lockwood’s abrupt exit during breakfast. He was not willing to share, no matter how much she tried needling him about it. “Look Lucy, it’s really not my place to say anything. If you want to know, ask Lockwood about it – just don’t expect him to give you an answer. I doubt he really wants to talk about it.”
She gave up at that point. George was not going to budge, and Lockwood had disappeared to the basement for sword-practice. They left for DSRAC headquarters without mentioning anything else about it. She was not sure if Lockwood was too busy to notice her called goodbye or not.
…
Half-way through the day, she had learned more about George than the supposed relic she needed to try and un-enchant. Part of their problem was they had so little to go on as far as the origins of the relic were concerned. There were several things it could be, with numerous reasons it could not be those same things. The one silver lining was that all the options came from the same type of black magic, so at least it wasn’t a total waste.
“I think the safest bet, no matter how much effort we put into researching the relic, would be for you to use magic identification on it first before you try breaking the curse,” mused George sometime around noon.
She had to lean very far back in her chair to see him when he spoke. The table they had taken over in the archives of DSRAC had gradually filled with more and more books as the day progressed. No less than seven tottering piles were scattered around it, cutting off any direct lines-of-sight she had to George.
“I think I need a break,” she exclaimed not long after that. Her eyes were blurry and watering. It seemed like every book in this damn place was printed in 6-point font – and that was only if she was lucky. If she was unlucky, it meant she had to decipher some long-dead persons’ looping or miniscule handwriting. She was unlucky probably two-thirds of the time. When she read over the same sentence five times and nothing penetrated her mushified brain, she admitted defeat.
George startled as he looked over at her. “But we’ve only just started!” he exclaimed.
She stared at him in exasperation. “George, we’ve been here for nearly five hours straight. It’s past noon, and my eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of my head if I try reading one more word. I’m taking a break and getting something to eat.”
He blinked at her before glancing over at the clock on the wall behind him. “Ah,” he hedged, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I hadn’t realized how long we’d already been at it.”
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way; but I get the feeling the world could collapse down around your ears without you noticing if you were in the middle of research.”
He scowled. “Well, how am I supposed to take it then?”
“Your…curious,” was her only response.
He pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. Only after spending the whole day with him in his element was she starting to understand him more. The exact way he cleaned his glasses gave her clues to how he was feeling. This gesture was a new one – it meant he was off-put by her declaration.
“Ok?” he said as he replaced his glasses. He seemed to squint at her, trying to figure out what she meant.
“I couldn’t figure out why I never seem to completely trust what Bobby Vernon tells me about the relics we were working on,” she mused, half to herself.
George watched her with wide eyes.
“It’s because…research is just a job to him. That doesn’t mean he’s…not smart or whatever…Bobby just wants the answers to be easy. He doesn’t go out of his way to make sure an answer is right if it was easy to find. You…you’re too curious about the possibilities. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes you, if you still have unanswered questions, you’ll keep going. You don’t like not knowing the answer, do you? You want to understand, everything.”
George was quiet for a long time. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Yes, well…I think a break is in order.”
She let him scurry off to avoid her scrutiny. Maybe this place with its stale smell of leather and paper was infectious. The DSRAC archives are a place of answers. That was why George likes it so much in here. He feels among friends.
Notes:
What did George figure out about Lockwood? :D
Chapter 53
Notes:
Popcorn, anyone? 😁
Chapter Text
It was late in the day before George finally conceded defeat. “I think this is all we’re going to be able to accomplish today,” he said as he snapped his latest tome closed.
“Thank god,” she enthused. She dropped the book she was holding as if it were a hot potato and sprang to standing. Her back cracked and she groaned; ten hours hunched over indecipherable historic texts clearly doing a number on her.
As much as she wanted to rush home, they still had to clean up the mess they made. All the books pilled on their table had to be transferred to the carts so they could be reshelved. The various papers containing their notes had somehow escaped confinement and run all over the table. She collected them all together as George went to the copy machine with some of the more promising texts he wanted to study more closely. It took them a good half-hour to clear everything away. By the time they were done, she was tetchy and her stomach was grumbling at her, demanding food.
Just as they were about to push through the doors to the main lobby of headquarters, they stopped at the sound of raised voices.
“…she’s got no business doing a job like this. She’s going to get hurt,” growled what she realized was Kipps’ voice.
George shot her a bewildered look. By unspoken consensus, they both moved to the little windows in the doors and peered through to observe what was happening.
Kipps was planted firmly in the way of Flo. His arms were crossed and he was scowling fiercely at her. For her own part, Flo looked unhappy about her conversation partner. She struck an image that was cooly aloof where Kipps was furious.
“Don’t see how it’s any of your business what girlie does now Kippy,” drawled Flo. “Didn’t she fire you yesterday?”
Kipps barely restrained his snarl of outrage. “Don’t call me ‘Kippy’! And I was not fired!”
“Oh yes, that’s right. Lucy just went to good ol’ Barnes and told him she refused to work with you. Doesn’t seem to trust your moral compass, that one, does she?” Flo gave Kipps a venomous smile.
She was a little surprised Kipps did not start shooting steam from his ears, he looked so furious. “Listen you river trash, I don’t care if you decide to go and get yourself killed. I take issue though, when you start –”
She was already slamming the door open before she even heard the conclusion of whatever spitfire thing Kipps was gearing up to say.
“How DARE you!” she growled.
Both Kipps and Flo whipped around at her exclamation, not having expected the interruption. She marched forwards, her eyes flashing dangerously. If she had been paying attention, she might have noticed the slight heated lick of her veinous magic coming alive and surrounding her in a field of sparking cinders. Kipps looked momentarily shocked, and actually took a step back from her. Flo watched her in interest without moving a single muscle.
“Don’t you DARE insult Flo like that!” she screeched. “What I do is none of your business! We don’t work together any more! Or have you forgotten? You expect me to trust you, when you outright say you don’t care if other people get themselves killed!? What kind of healer are you, anyway!? You’re nothing but a heartless JERK!”
Despite the obvious discomfiture her wrath caused him, Kipps still had a determined set to his face. “You call me heartless, when you’re the one who’s risking every magical in the city!?” he snapped. “You Lucy, are the first magical in 40 years who is actually capable of breaking blood magic enchantments! Deliberately putting yourself at risk for this mission run by an untrained street rat is completely unnecessary and irresponsible! You are not trained for field work! What do you think is going to happen if you get hurt, huh?”
“It was the Inspector’s idea to include me in the mission, not Flo’s!” she screamed, “If you’ve got such a problem with that, why don’t you take it up with him?”
“Stop being stupid and admit you can’t do this!” he yelled back.
Kipps was much taller and larger than her. In the time she advanced on him, he had pulled himself up to his full height. If he was trying to intimidate her with his large size, it was having the opposite effect. It was not for nothing that she had stood and called her own mother loveless and dead. She was not coed – quite the contrary. Her knuckles popped and cracked as she balled her hands into fists. There was a quivering moment where all was silent, and then her fury broke.
…
“I can’t believe you punched Quill Kipps in the face,” stuttered George as he fumbled for his house keys.
“I can’t believe you only scrapped your knuckles a bit while his nose broke,” sniggered Flo. “Here I was thinking Kippy was too thick-skulled for anything to make a dent in him. There’s no accountin for you, is there Love?”
She grimaced sheepishly, cradling her bandaged knuckles to her chest. “I didn’t…mean to punch him?” she tried, shooting her two companions a look from beneath her bangs.
George snorted indelicately. “If that was you ‘not meaning to’ punch someone Lucy, I don’t want to ever be on the receiving end of you actually meaning it.”
“Don’t worry Love,” commented Flo, “Kippy’s deserved a good sock in the face for a while now. ‘Bout time someone gave it to him.”
“Was Barnes really angry with you when he pulled you aside?” asked George as he pushed the door open.
They all filled through behind him. “Not…really?” she hedged. “He basically warned me not to get into any other ‘physical altercations’ with anyone, and then told me to go get my hand looked at.”
Flo gave a wolfish smile. “I saw him drag off Kippy for a ‘chat’ once Doc had reset his nose. I think he got more of a talkin to than you did,” she said, laughing.
“Well, good,” she grumbled. “He was out of line, and someone needed to tell him that.”
There was perhaps a few seconds of silence where nobody said anything else. She took her shoes off and turned to walk further into the house, only to run right into Lockwood’s chest. She yelped in surprise, certain he had not been there three seconds ago.
He was already holding her still before she could manage to reel back in her shock, a smoldering look in his eyes. “What happened?” he demanded of her, his tone dark, “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m not – Lockwood, it’s fine –”
“Lucy,” he rumbled, “I could smell it from downstairs.”
“Easy, Locky,” called Flo. Lockwood’s eyes snapped up to her. The mirth she had worn since the fallout of her argument with Kipps tempered now by cautious placation. “Girlie here just split her knuckles teachin someone a lesson.”
“Lockwood,” she whined, trying to get him to let her go. For once he was actually making use of his super-strength – she knew she couldn’t get away until he saw fit to let her go.
He ignored her silent protests and squirming in favour of reaching for her injured hand and tugging it up to have a look. Despite the dangerous edge of anger still colouring his features, he was careful as he swiped a finger over the bandage he found there. “What happened?” he asked again, voice still low and rumbling.
“Lucy took offence to Kipps calling Flo ‘river trash’ and saying he didn’t care if she got herself killed, so long as she didn’t take other people down with her,” offered George in an even tone. Lockwood’s eyes were drawn slowly to him. “He then made it worse by further insulting Flo, and saying, and I quote, that Lucy should ‘stop being stupid and admit she can’t do this’ in reference to the job with the relic auction.”
“At which point, girlie here clocked Kipps in the face and broke his nose!” sang Flo, once again looking delighted about it.
Lockwood sighed, the furious anger dropping off him.
“Will you let me go now?” she grumbled.
He gave her an apologetic, close-lipped smile, squeezing the shoulder he was still holding her by before releasing her.
…
“Did anything else interesting happen today I should know about?” asked Lockwood once everyone was settled around the table in the kitchen with supper in front of them.
She was too busy shoveling food inter her face to answer, so George did instead. “Nothing else nearly as dramatic as Lucy’s…disagreement,” offered George. “Lucy and I were able to ascertain that whatever this relic is, the enchantment on it is most likely blood magic. There are a lot of options for what exactly it could be. I need to do more research to narrow down them all.”
“Still haven’t managed to get wind of where the auction’s happenin,” added in Flo, “Though you lot took so long in the archives that Locky’s already filled me in on what’s he’s found.” Here she shot him a disgruntled look. “He’s said he told the Winkman’s to expect two emissaries from him for the auction.”
“Wait,” she said as she swallowed her last mouthful. She looked from Lockwood to Flo, “Why only two? I have to go in, to break the enchantment, and Lockwood’s said he’s not letting me go in without him – are you not coming into the auction Flo?”
Flo crossed her arms and faced the window. Her expression was guarded and unreadable. “Doesn’t look like it Love,” she said, “It’d be too much of a risk for me to go in. Even if the Winkman’s don’t recognize me any more, that’s not to say nobody else would.”
“Sending in three sworn servants is also somewhat excessive,” added Lockwood. “It wouldn’t fit with my reputation. It could put everyone else on guard in a way we don’t want them to be. Two is already more than usual for a black market auction like this.”
Flo raised an eyebrow at him. “Something we should be worried about then Locky?”
He shook his head. “No. Sending in two sworn servants is a power play. It’s the least the Winkman’s would have expected from me after the slight they offered. Them not bothering to invite me in the first play works in our advantage, because nobody will be suspicious of my having multiple emissaries in the situation.”
“We should talk about getting you lot out,” commented Flo.
“Isn’t the whole point of Lockwood contacting the Winkman’s that we won’t need to worry about that?” asked George.
Flo patted him on the shoulder. “Sure was Georgie,” she offered, “Mean’s we don’t have to worry about getting anybody in.” Here she paused, her expression darkening. “As soon as the Winkman’s realize the enchantment is broken, they’ll seal off the auction and won’t let anyone out until they’ve checked for intruders in the building and magicals among the guests.”
“Why magicals specifically?” she asked. She looked around at everyone.
It was Lockwood that answered her. “Sworn servants of vampires or covens are never magicals. If a coven happens to have magicals they decide not to kill, they’re kept as enthralled slaves. It’s almost unheard of for them to be anything else. Checking for magic is a good way for the Winkman’s to find the mole.”
“Do you know how they’ll check? Do they have an identification stone?” asked George sharply.
“They shouldn’t,” offered Lockwood, “Any records for how to create them are sealed in the DSRAC vaults. Unless they’ve all been destroyed, which would honestly have been the smarter option.”
“They don’t have one of the stones,” assured Flo. She had not looked back at them from her fierce glare at the window. “They know of a rune mark you can use as a locator spell for magic. I’ve seen them charge compasses with it to locate magicals in a room.”
George pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “Yes,” he mused, “That could present a very large problem.”
“But I can mask my magic,” she worried, cutting in. “Won’t that mean they can’t find me?”
George replaced his glasses on his face before giving her a pitying look. “If you were a normal magical Lucy, that would be enough,” he sighed. “But since you’re a lodestone magical, they still might be able to find you.”
“But I can make my magic dormant! Lockwood can’t smell it, and he’s a vampire!” she exclaimed.
“Luce,” soothed Lockwood, “I can’t smell your magic when you mask it fully. But you can’t mask ambient magic directed at you from the world around you – and vampires can’t smell that. This locator spell would still be able to discern it though.”
“We’ll have to find some way of blocking you off from ambient magic,” muttered George. Suddenly, he looked very deep in thought.
“George,” warned Lockwood, an edge to his voice.
“Didn’t my mapping say that binding my magic would make me sick?” she asked, glancing around at everyone. Flo grimaced at her. Lockwood squeezed her knee in comfort.
George gazed at her with a calm look in his eye. “Yes, I know,” he sighed, “We’ll have to be careful to not actually cut you off or bind your magic, Lucy. But we have to find some way of making sure you can’t be found by a locator spell.”
“Georgie, she’s going to need her connection to ambient magic to break the enchantment. We can’t send her in without that, or she might not be able to do anything.”
“Is it possible to just…divert the ambient magic away from me?” she asked. She was twisting her fingers together in her lap again. “You said it’ll be directed towards me, which is how the locator spell might be able to find me. If you can find something that’ll divert it away from me, won’t that be enough?”
George seemed to think about it for a long time. “…It still might affect you physically,” he warned, “But that is a good idea and would have the smallest chance of negatively affecting you.”
“We have to make sure that whatever it is we do, it’s not noticeable,” cautioned Lockwood. “We can’t be drawing attention to ourselves once we’re in the thick of it.”
“I might be able to make that work,” muttered George, still clearly thinking.
Flo clapped her hands together once, sporting a cheshire grin. “Well, that’s the fun part settled out. Now we’ve got to talk about keepin DSRAC busy so they don’t go messin up the plan.”
“I think that has to be your job Flo,” she pointed out. “You said that if you told Barnes to hold back, he would.”
Flo inclined her head at the comment. She still had a considering look on her face. “Locky, you said they’re gonna do this in an abandoned factory by the river, right?”
“Yes, why?”
Flo nodded her head, lost in thought. “Well, s’not a bad idea to give you lot an exit route if things go south. I’ll hang back in Matilda ready to come in if you need a quick exit. It’ll make it harder for the Winkman’s goons to follow if you’re on a boat. They won’t expect that.”
“You should get the DSRAC agents to stand by in a second boat for if they’re needed,” added Lockwood.
Flo nodded. “I’ll get a couple boats – I’m not lettin any of those geezers onto Matilda.”
“Plus, it’ll be better if you’re the getaway boat and the DSRAC force hangs back to cover your escape,” added George.
They finished their meal in happy comradery after that. Flo still needed to independently find out about the auction. And now George needed to find some way to direct ambient magic away from her so a locater spell would not find her. But they had a plan.
…
Kipps sat brooding over a bowl of stew that had long since gone stone cold. He had a bandage over his broken nose that did nothing to hide the dark bruising across his face. A floorboard creaked somewhere in his flat, causing him to freeze. Carefully, trying hard not to make any noise, he grabbed the flashlight he kept with him at all times – a layover from his days in the field.
Soft footsteps paused behind him. In one smooth, practiced move, he clicked on the flashlight and spun to face whoever it was that had invaded his home. His light fell on the glittering eyes and sharp face of Lockwood.
“Gah,” exclaimed Lockwood, “Get that light out of my face, would you?”
“Who are you?” demanded Kipps, “How did you get in here?”
Lockwood’s eyes roved over Kipps’ face. “It doesn’t really matter who I am. I just came to see if Lucy’s story about breaking someone’s nose was true or not. Looks like it was,” he drawled, eyes sparkling.
Kipps’ grip of the flashlight tightened again. “Who are you?” he growled, “And how do you know Lucy?”
Lockwood rolled his eyes in response. “I’m the same friend who gave George Karim the vampire venom he used to synthesize an antidote – and who rescued Lucy when she was abducted by vampire servants.”
Kipps scowled at him. “So you’re the one who convinced Barnes to let her go out and get herself killed.”
It was Lockwood’s turn to scowl now. “No,” he hissed. “I have never spoken to Inspector Barnes. I only know of him through George, and now Lucy. She is the only one responsible for convincing the Inspector to allow her to continue Florence Bonnard’s job without a first-response healer.
“I can empathize with your determination to keep Lucy safe, Quill Kipps,” continued Lockwood. “As with your realization that she does not appreciate coddling, nor subterfuge. I was the subject of her wrath for much the same reasons as you, once. Though, clearly not to quite the same extent. As much as I would like to hide her away someplace safe, where no vampires could ever find her; such is not a practical thing.”
Kipps continued to glare at him, not having relaxed in the slightest. “She shouldn’t be allowed to go into the field,” he snapped, obstinate.
Lockwood regarded him silently for a long moment. “Why?” he asked, “Because she’s powerful? Because she’s valuable?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Or is it because you’re too scared to see her get hurt?”
There was a beat of silence.
“I believe that whatever risks she takes are ultimately up to her,” continued Lockwood. “She’s the one who made the decision to do this job, and nothing you do or say is going to change that. Unless you want to act as if you have a vampire’s thrall, and force her to do what you want, that is.”
He turned to leave the way he had come. “Oh, and if I were a vampire, you’d need more than a flashlight with a UV bulb to stop me feeding on you,” he threw over his shoulder.
Kipps did not have a chance to respond before watching Lockwood transform into a bird and fly out the nearest open window.
Chapter 54
Notes:
I don't really know where I'm going with the Kipps-Lockwood scenes, but it's interesting, so I'm not going to complain!
Enjoy! :D
Chapter Text
The rest of the week proceeded without any more fisticuffs or explosive arguments, but that is not to say it was not busy. Flo continued to go out on recon to try and independently find out when and where the auction was happening so she could notify Barnes and DSRAC. All she’d come up with so far was that it was going to happen next week sometime – exact date still unknown.
George had unofficially assigned her to research as much as she could about the enchantment she was supposed to try and break. He busied himself first with research on how he could direct ambient magic away from her; then with trying to make some charm she could put on or take off at any point she needed to. Sometime around the end of the week he transitioned from the archives in headquarters to the warded room in the basement. At that point, Lockwood was put on mishap-watch.
“Why do we need that?” she asked one morning at the breakfast table. George had already rushed off down to continue experimenting. “George’s usually really careful.”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Yes, he usually is. But when he starts experimenting, he sometimes –”
The last bit of his sentence was cut off by loud BOOM coming from the basement.
“– does things that run a little more dangerous,” finished Lockwood with a sigh. “I should go down and make sure he hasn’t smoked himself out again.”
She watched him go with a wide-eyed, startled expression. He reappeared not too long after and reported that George had apparently somehow acquired an explosion-proof box. “I don’t want to know where he got that box from,” groaned Lockwood, “But at least I don’t have to worry about him accidentally leveling the house anymore.”
She fled to headquarters after that, and left the boys to their own problems. The house was thankfully still standing when she got back that night – though the kitchen was filled with a feint rotten eggs smell. She decided against commenting on George’s new Einstein-esq hairstyle, or the smudge of soot across his forehead.
…
“I finally got something,” said Flo the second she opened the front door to let her in that Sunday.
“You managed to find an outside source to tell you where the auction is happening?” she asked.
“Yes,” celebrated Flo. “And thanks to Locky, I know it’s good info, because it matches what he said to the letter.”
They moved to the sitting room where Flo proceeded to sprawl out in an armchair, her dirty wellington boots once again perching on a footstool. She sat down in her favourite spot by the fireplace, shuffling her notes around and clearing them away so she could focus on Flo instead. Lockwood marked his place in his book and set it aside to do the same.
“Have you notified DSRAC yet?” he asked.
“Sure have,” answered Flo. “Soon as I got the info. Knew I had to tell Barnesy sooner rather than latter. Had a good long argument about letting you go in there with only Locky as backup. He wasn’t very happy about it, but he caved eventually.”
“He must have realized that sending in more people would only put Lucy at more risk, not less,” commented Lockwood, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “It would just increase the odds of someone noticing something amiss. There’s certainly something to be said for the discretion of a smaller strike forces in such situations.”
Flo inclined her head in agreement. “Was that point that won me the argument. Also told him about the backup plan we’ve worked out – seemed to mollify him somewhat, that.”
“I suppose it would,” she added. “Barne’s doesn’t strike me as liking taking risks with his people.”
Flo murmured her agreement. “Has Georgie managed to figure out something to hide your magic yet?” she asked.
“He’s still experimenting,” offered Lockwood.
“He said this morning that he’s close to figuring it out,” she offered. “There haven’t been any more explosions today. Hopefully that’s good.”
Flo seemed to mull over the information for a long time before speaking again. “Look Love,” she called, a crease forming between her brows, “If Georgie can’t get his charm figured out in time, it might be better if we don’t send you in to break the curse.”
She shot a startled look at Flo. “But, breaking the curse before anyone could activate it was the whole point of the mission!”
“Flo’s right Luce,” soothed Lockwood. “If we can’t ensure they won’t be able to identify you as the person who broke the enchantment, we can’t risk allowing you to do it.”
She shot him a fierce look. “Lockwood, we can’t let anyone get a hold of that relic! We have to make sure no one can use it!”
He raised his hands in surrender and gave her an imploring look. “Luce, please listen. I’m not saying we’ll allow the relic to be activated; and I highly doubt that is what Flo’s saying either. But if we can’t ensure they won’t be able to identify you as the person who broke the enchantment, we have to change plans a little.”
“We’d still need you and Locky to get into the auction,” added Flo. “You guys could watch and see who ends up buying it. Then once it’s over, I can get the cavalry to nab the people before they get back to their coven, and you can break the enchantment then.”
She crossed her arms and stared at them mulishly. “It feels like there’s too many places that can go wrong,” she snipped.
Flo shrugged at her. “No more’n less than the original plan, I’d say.”
“What if they manage to slip away form the DSRAC agents?”
“You’re forgetting one thing Luce,” consoled Lockwood, “I know who all the major vampire covens in the city are. It won’t be hard for me to figure out which one the buyers are from. And I can transform into a bird, so I can always run them down if they slip through DSRAC’s net. They won’t get away.”
“If I get the chance to break the enchantment, I’m taking it,” she declared, “Magical redirect, or no.” She glared at first Lockwood, then Flo, daring them to contradict her.
Lockwood sighed, running a hand tiredly through his hair. “And there’s nothing any of us can do or say to convince you otherwise, is there?”
“Nope,” she chirped happily. She gave him manic kind of grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous.
Lockwood blew out a breath and shook his head as Flo chuckled quietly off to the side. “One day Luce, you’ll be obstinate about something that won’t raise my blood pressure.”
Flo snorted. “Locky, you’ve a vampire. You don’t have blood pressure.”
“I’m still entitled to use any form of expression I choose. The point still stands.”
She continued to beam at him, even in the face of his resigned disapproval.
…
“I hear Bonnard has finally managed to pin down when this auction is going to happen,” commented Kipps.
Barnes stopped in his tracks and shared a commiserating look with Wade before turning to face the healer. “Is there a point to this Kipps? I’m rather busy at the moment.”
Kipps’ nose was still bandaged, though the edges of the bruising were starting to turn yellowish as it healed. “I want in on the job,” he stated, a determined set to his shoulders.
Barnes’ face did not change expression, though he spoke with a resignation that was not there before. “Miss Bonnard is heading this assignment Kipps. If you would like to participate, I suggest you contact with and have a civil conversation about it.”
Kipps eyed the Inspector and Sergeant for a long moment in silence. “You haven’t been able to find another healer to put on the job, have you?”
Now Barnes capitulated to show his annoyance. “Perhaps, if you hadn’t alienated young Miss Carlyle so thoroughly, I would not have needed to try.”
Kipps did not respond to that statement, seeming to be lost in thought.
Barnes and Wade shared another look, waiting for the younger man to say something else. When it became clear he was not going to, they bid him a good day and left.
…
The setting sun and the arrival of night found Kipps in his flat watching TV, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He did not bother to get up to turn a light on, even as the room grew dark around him. A few hours latter, he heard what sounded like a window being carefully opened somewhere in his flat.
He glanced across the room to where his jacket was hung up next to the door, along with the DSRAC side-arm he had signed out. It was too far away to grab now – once again, all he had on him was his flashlight with the UV bulb.
“What is the true reason for your aggression against Florence Bonnard and George Karim?” called Lockwood’s voice from the shadows behind him.
Kipps once again had nothing to protect himself but the flashlight and the ready stance he immediately fell into. He aimed his useless weapon and scowled at his intruder. “You again!”
“Me again,” echoed Lockwood, unimpressed. “I believe I asked you a question, Mr. Kipps. What is your answer?”
Kipps’ distrustful expression did not soften, only harden. “No one knows who you really are,” he accused, “I’ve asked around. Most don’t even know for sure you exist.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere, Mr. Kipps?” drawled Lockwood.
“Who are you?” growled Kipps, “Why is there no record of you in DSRAC?”
“I would think that was obvious, Mr. Kipps. I don’t completely trust DSRAC.”
Kipps’ eyes flicked to the side-arm half a room away for a split second.
“Perhaps you should not either. Tell me, Mr. Kipps, how do you think a magical as powerful as Lucy could have escaped notice for her entire adolescence?”
“Bonnard flaunts the rules,” snapped Kipps, avoiding this newest question.
“She does,” conceded Lockwood. “And that is why she is a more effective relic-hunter than trained DSRAC teams.”
Kipps’ scowl deepened.
“Your next argument?”
Kipps made to scrunch up his face in annoyance, but ended up wincing as he did. “Karim…has this ridiculous notion that vampires can be cured.”
“I believe the essay you are referring too merely proclaimed his belief that restoring the lost soul to a vampire was possible – not that a full cure was.”
“My brother could have been a curse-breaker,” snapped Kipps, “A Rampager killed him before he had the chance.”
Lockwood examined Kipps’ expression for a long moment. “Rampagers aren’t capable of premeditating their victims. If they did not leave behind a trail of bodies, someone else had to have sent them.”
“I don’t care! It killed him!”
There was a long beat of silence. “Retribution without remorse,” said Lockwood, intoning it like a battle cry half-remembered, and long forgotten. “How very Covenist of you, Mr. Kipps.”
“Don’t you dare –”
“Am I wrong, Mr. Kipps?” prodded Lockwood, cutting into his rant before it began. “If vampires are monsters, it’s because they lack humanity – what does that make you, I wonder, when you seem to lack the same?”
“Carlyle is too valuable to lose to some job like this.”
“Isn’t that her decision to make?”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be. She still barely knows this world.”
It was Lockwood’s turn to scowl now. “So you would restrain her – go against her wishes and force her into protective custody? Use her, for her abilities, as you would on object, without any care for what she may want?”
“She could save so many people from all the black magic relics DSRAC has stashed away,”
“That is precisely what she is doing by agreeing to this assignment.”
“She shouldn’t go.”
“Then who should?” challenged Lockwood.
He waited a long time for an answer. Kipps was quiet.
“It is hard to protect people when they have reason not to trust you, Mr. Kipps,” said Lockwood, breaking the silence. “I suggest you take a good look at yourself and begin asking just what you may have done that would earn you suspicion or encourage antagonism.”
Kipps was silent as he watched Lockwood transform into a bird and leave through the window he had opened to get in. His eyes fell to the inside of his wrist, to the puncture scars that hid there, pale white against the rest of his skin. He stood, muscles taught as a bow string for a long moment. And then he sighed, his shoulders falling. “What have I become Callum?” he asked softly. “What would you have thought of me?”
Chapter 55
Notes:
Kipps has decided to stop being a jerk it seems...
Enjoy! :D
Chapter Text
Now that Flo had told Barnes and DSRAC when the auction was happening, Monday saw them scrambled to get ready. Agents had to be found and briefed about the mission. Vampire hunters were called in as added protection for everyone.
“I don’t care if there’s not supposed to be vampires in the auction itself Carlyle,” boomed Barnes when that particular topic came up. “There is nothing to say they won’t be waiting outside the premises for their servants.”
“Isn’t the whole point of sending in just me and our friend to avoid detection though?” she asked. She felt a hollow pit open in her stomach at the thought of trained vampire hunters so near Lockwood. “Won’t servants of vampires be able to recognize vampire hunters and warn them DSRAC is hanging around?”
Barnes fixed her with a stern expression that brooked no argument. “Rest assured Carlyle; our vampire hunters are a specially trained division. All of these individuals are well aware of the need for discretion and the importance of remaining undetected. Their presence will not infringe on you and your partner’s ability to infiltrate the auction.”
She was not reassured by Barnes’ assertions.
Flo shot her a look behind everyone else’s back and mouthed the word “Later,” at her. She huffed, crossing her arms as she hunkered down. If Flo was not worried…maybe she did not need to be either. She knew the other girl cared what happened to Lockwood too.
“Might actually be a good idea for one of them to break cover,” mused Flo when it became clear that neither her or Barnes were going to say any more on the matter.
Barnes shared a look with Wade – standing as ever at his shoulder – before giving Flo a curious look. “What is your plan?” he asked, tone expressionless.
Flo’s eyes were unfocused and her brow was furrowed – clearly deep in thought. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea if we were able to offer up a cover story for Girlie here’s magic.”
Barnes seemed to consider the proposition. He turned and had a rushed conversation with the small pack of vampire hunters in the corner. He seemed intrigued when he turned back to the two of them. “Alright Bonnard, let’s here this idea of yours.”
She watched as Flo shook herself from her revere. She shot her a toothy grin before focusing back on the Inspector. “Might cast shade on our moles if there’s any suspicion directed at them prior to, and then the prize relic gets broken in the middle of the auction,” explained Flo. “We should send in someone who’s only job is to be seen and then get out. If they are obviously from DSRAC, Winkman will send his goons after them – it’ll take the heat off Lucy here so nobody suspects her of anything.”
Barnes seemed to like the idea. One of the three vampire hunters in the room volunteered to be the diversion – they were the only one present who had some magic.
The planning session continued; the volunteer would wait until after she had broken the enchantment to reveal themselves, and then make a break for it. The plan was good, both because it meant that no-one would give any of the guests of the auction a second look, and because it offered them a scape-goat for her own magic. George was still frantically trying to complete the redirection charm for her, and they were not sure if it would be ready in time. This meant the charm would not be a make-or-break thing for the mission.
…
“Is it really a good idea to have vampire hunters so close?” she whispered to Flo after the meeting adjourned and everyone went their separate ways to prepare for tomorrow night.
Flo cast a wary glance up and down the hall to make sure nobody else was around. She patted her on the back to reassure her. “Locky’ll be fine Love,” she murmured. “He’s not aggressive, he can walk in daylight, he has ordinary magic, and he can pass through warding runes meant to keep vampires out. That basically covers all the bases of what the vampire hunters use to identify threats. They won’t realize a thing.”
While Flo’s points were reassuring, she was still worried about it.
…
“Carlyle. Hey! Carlyle!” she heard a voice call from behind her.
She scowled at the sound – instantly recognizing Kipps’ voice – and continued to march her way down the hall in the opposite direction.
“Carlyle!” she heard him call again.
She stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists, then spun on her heel and fixed her unwanted guest with her most murderous stare. “What do you want?” she snapped.
Kipps continued down the hall towards her. She was satisfied to see his nose still bandaged, the bruising around it starting to fade to the poisonous looking yellow-green marking it as being half-healed.
Kipps stopped a few paces away from her – ostensibly out of arms reach, and sighed. “Look Carlyle,” he breathed, “I know you probably think I’m an insensitive dick –”
“Among other things,” she growled mercilessly.
Kipps seemed to slump down for second before pulling himself up to face her again. “Alright, fine; I’m sorry. There, is that what you wanted?” He crossed his arms and tried to look imposing with his bruised and bandaged face.
She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression remaining otherwise the exact same. “You’re sorry…for what exactly?” she drawled.
Kipps made to rub at his face, but winced as he pressed on his bruises. He sighed. “I’m sorry I went behind your back and tried to force Bonnard to kick you off the mission.”
She tapped her foot, waiting for the rest.
He slumped downwards under her piercing gaze. “I’m sorry if I made it sound like I thought you were incompetent – that was never my intention.”
Despite her better judgement, she felt some of the smoldering indignation being to melt in her breast. She cocked her head at him consideringly. “What exactly was your intention then?” she asked.
Kipps seemed to chew on his words for a long time before he actually spoke. “My brother was killed by a Rampager…he could have been a curse-breaker.”
She just stood there and stared at him, waiting.
“A vampire servant was scoping out our neighborhood for her master. The only reason they didn’t find my brother was they lost their locator relic hiding from a DSRAC patrol in the park near our house. Callum ended up finding it in the bushes while he was playing. He didn’t like the feel of the magic from it, so he scratched out the runes on its surface and effectively destroyed it. He abandoned it in the trash at the edge of the park when we started home – but not before he was spotted. He wouldn’t have been able to do it, unless he had the talent for curse-breaking.”
She blinked at Kipps’ rigid shoulders and his turned away face. “The vampire wasn’t happy about that when they found out, were they?”
“No,” rumbled Kipps, “They weren’t. The Covenist he’d accidentally slighted set up an ambush in the park late one evening – they caught some random passerby and turned them, then left them with Callum. I…wasn’t able to find him before the new vampire woke and attacked him.” Here he rubbed at one of his wrists, almost absent mindedly. “The truth is Carlyle…I don’t trust your safety to any of them – Covenist, Rampager, or human servant.”
She watched his face, and saw the truth of his words written there. The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed overhead. The older bulbs shimmered with the last years of their life – not quite flickering yet, but you could see that they were on their way out the door.
“You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t do,” she stated, firm but not aggressive.
“I think you’ve made that point clearly enough already,” he said a little ruefully. He did not gesture to his still-healing nose, but she knew what he meant.
“I’m not sorry I punched you,” she declared, raising her chin. “You were being a jerk.”
“…I guess I deserve that.”
“Have you apologized to Flo? Or George? You insulted him too.”
“I…haven’t.”
“Maybe you should think about that then.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“Good luck tomorrow,” whispered Kipps.
She chewed on her bottom lip before making a decision. “Thank you,” she said, “And Kipps? When you talk to Flo, you can tell her I wouldn’t be opposed if she let you onto the boats.”
With that final remark, she turned and left.
…
When she finally went home for the night, she did not see George. He was still holed away in the basement, working on making a redirection charm for her.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t run himself too ragged,” said Lockwood from his place at the table.
With George busy, she was reduced to having leftovers for supper. They were George’s cooking anyway, so she was not too fused about it.
She shot Lockwood a look over her plate of reheated supper. “What exactly is your point of reference for ‘too ragged’?” she asked.
He offered her a close-lipped smile. “I’ll keep an eye on him and drag him off to bed when he can’t hide being tired any more.”
She folded her arms and gave him a raised eyebrow. “And you’ll make sure not to run yourself ragged while you’re doing that?”
“Of course.”
“Sure you will.”
They did not speak about it any more after that. She made sure to bring George something for supper. He had done it enough for her, it was about time she returned the favour. He did thank her, even if he was too distracted to really do much of anything else but stuff him face and get back to work.
…
Dusk found her in the attic looking through her clothes. Lockwood had said they would be delivered robes by the Winkman’s so everyone at the auction would appear the same – but she still wanted to wear something practical in case they needed to ditch those. Eventually she settled on a dark navy-blue set of thick leggings under a phthalo blue leather skirt, along with her normal jacket.
Lockwood was waiting for her in the library as she made her way downstairs. He wore the style suit he always was, his long greatcoat thrown over the arm of his chair, ready for their departure. It took him a second to say anything after looking up and giving her his usual close-lipped smile at her entrance.
“You about ready to go Luce?” he asked.
“I’m ready.”
“I have to give you this before we head out,” said Lockwood.
He pulled a small vial tied on a leather cord from his pocket as he stood and made his way over, grabbing his coat as he did.
She looked questioningly at the little vial. There was some clear liquid contained in it. It looked as innocuous as water, but something told her that was not what this was.
“What is it?” she asked as she took the cord without hesitation.
“It’s a vial of my venom,” answered Lockwood quietly.
Her eyes shot up from the little vial to stare at him questioningly.
He heaved a deep sigh, then moved to explain. “It’s standard practice before events like this to scent claim the servants you send. If there happen to be any vampires waiting for their servants outside of the auction, they’ll be instantly suspicious if you turn up not smelling like you’ve been claimed. I had to wait ‘till tonight to give it to you because the venom has a very poor shelf-life. It would have already lost its effectiveness if I’d done this sooner.”
“Ok,” she whispered. Without any further fuss, she slipped the chord around her neck and tucked the vial out of sight beneath her shirt. “Will I…have to worry about the vial breaking and getting the venom on myself?”
“No. Vampire venom does not absorb through the skin. As long as it doesn’t get into an open wound, nothing will happen.”
She nodded then, and silence fell between them. “When should we be going?”
“Soon,” offered Lockwood as he cast his gaze out the window to the darkening sky. “We’ll go as soon as night fully sets in.”
She murmured her ascent. As much as she was determined to see this through, she was starting to get a little nervous. Nothing good ever happened at night – now more than ever. This would be the first time since the Mill she would purposefully be outside late at night.
Lockwood was standing next to her before she realized. He took hold of her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine Luce,” he soothed, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She shot him a grateful smile, but did not say anything.
Just as they were making their way out the door, they heard the crashing of George charging up the stairs towards them.
“Wait!” he yelled as he barrelled into the hallway. “Don’t leave without this!”
He dropped a small iron bracelet into Lockwood’s waiting hand. The inside surface was covered in tiny, intricate runes.
“I finally managed to make something that should direct ambient magic away from you without causing you any harm,” rushed George. “Don’t put it on until after you’ve broken the curse on the relic. It still might affect you a little, but it shouldn’t be debilitating in any way.”
“Thanks George,” praised Lockwood. “This’ll be perfect.”
He slipped the bracelet into an inside pocket of his coat, and then they were shuffling out the door and into the night.
Chapter 56
Notes:
*rubs hands together* We're in the thick of things now guys!
😁🖤
Chapter Text
After leaving home they stuck to the shadows and made for an empty way-house Lockwood had set up for the night. They found a pair of freshly laundered full-body robes neatly packaged on the doorstep, waiting for them. The ensembles were complete with identical plane masks that covered a full three-quarters of their faces.
Transportation to the auction itself from the way-house was already pre-arranged. They had just enough time to don the robes and masks before a sleek looking black car pulled up outside the house. It coasted to a stop and waited, just another shadow in the night.
“Are you ready for this?” asked Lockwood softly when he pointed out their ride.
She readjusted how her mask was sitting, then gave him her best confident smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Keep close,” was his only response before he swept out the door towards the waiting car.
Lockwood affected a confident, self-assured swagger she was not used to seeing from him. Keeping in mind where they were going, and the nature of the small ruse they were affecting, she tried her best to match him. Her success was questionable, but at least she did not do something stupid like fall flat on her face.
The driver of the car held the door open for them. He wore an identical mask to theirs, but instead of a robe, he had on a crisp black suit that glittered like obsidian in the moonlight.
She sat fidgeting in the seat next to Lockwood during the journey. Silver moonlight from the last quarter cast the world in an eery, dim half-light. Every so often, the odd whisp of cloud drifted across the sky, plunging the already shadowed world into further darkness for a time.
Despite her best efforts, her trepidation was starting to mount. Of course, Lockwood could not help but notice. His hand fell to her knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. They locked eyes in silence in the back of the car. She took a deep breath, then gave him a smile. They did not speak.
What felt like seconds latter, they stopped outside a run-down looking old warehouse. The Thames could be seen just down the alley, glittering forbiddingly in the moonlight. She tried not to let it bother her when the car drove off immediately after the driver politely opened the door to let them out.
Lockwood’s hand found hers in the darkness; and then, they were heading in.
…
“Who’re you here for?” demanded a hulking figure as they entered the crumbling shell of the building. The massive man was easily twice as tall as her and four times her weight. He stepped squarely into their path, blocking any further progress.
Lockwood pulled himself up to his full height, effecting the haughty air of an insulted aristocrat, glaring down his nose at the slimy thing stuck to his shoe. “We are here on behalf of our Lord, Marylebone’s Day Walker,” he snipped, “And our Lord will not be pleased when he hears of the disrespect of your reception.”
The words seemed to hang in the air like a threat for a moment. The thug in front of them had at least enough of a brain left to realize his mistake and look concerned. He was saved by a different man, this one taller with less bulging muscles. “Butch! What has Boss told you about greeting guests?” snapped the other man.
The mindless bear in front of them scratched his head, looking sour. “That I shouldn’t.”
The taller man shoved his co-worker out of their way before immediately dropping into a low bow before them. “My apologies, to you and your Lord Marylebone-Day-Walker,” placated the man. “I assure you, Mr. and Ms. Winkman extend you their full courtesy. Please, if you would follow me.” Here he straightened up and threw a withering look to the first man. “And Butch? Switch with Ace, you numbskull, before Boss decides your not worth the effort to keep around and gifts you to someone who will have more use for you.”
Despite his hulking size, Butch looked terrified by the very concept. He scurried off with his tail between his legs. She could not help the surprised snort that left her at the image – but that was ok. Lockwood harumphed in disdain at the retreating figure. They fell in behind their new guide and ventured deeper into the bowels of the beast.
…
A tall, surprisingly stocky woman with chunky hands greeted them once they passed through the initial array of spooky, decrepit hallways and checkpoints of cavemen. She wore a lethal pair of high heels, and her neck was covered with an unusually elaborate chocker. Her dress was not gaudy and covered in sequins as she might have guessed, but form-fitting, structured and accented in dark lace.
“Welcome, friends, of our Lord Marylebone-Day-Walker,” she simpered, handing over a numbered paddle. “My husband and I wish you and your Lord a fruitful evening.” She gestured to the doorway behind her. Overlarge warding runes were carved in a repeating pattern all around it.
Lockwood took the paddle, giving her an evaluative gaze. “We shall see what kind of ‘friends’ we can be by nights end,” he rumbled, his voice pitched lower than usual.
The polite smile of the woman froze a little, and she quickly moved out of their way.
“What was that?” she whispered once they were out of earshot.
“Playing the part,” answered Lockwood.
Now that they had met their hostess, the path forward was marked out by small tea lights. It might have been impressive, if the lights themselves were not cheap plastic imitation candles from the nearest bargain store. They passed through another couple doorways, also carved with overlarge warding runes, before emerging into a cavernous space where dozens of other robed and masked people milled about.
They found themselves in the central hall of the old warehouse, the clearstory soaring above their heads. Glittering moonlight cast shadows between the warm pools surrounding artificial lights placed strategically around the perimeter of the space. One end of the hall was dominated by a stage raised a couple feet off the concrete floor. A heavy black curtain marked its back edge, and a myriad of brutish-looking hired thugs surrounded it, frowning at anyone who dared to get too close. A rusted catwalk and railing circled them 15 feet up the peeling metal support columns surrounding the hall.
Conversation around the room was sparce and whispered. Everyone was casting everyone else suspicious looks. Every smile she saw was insincere and venomous; every laugh veering towards the fake kind of cheery. She found herself defaulting to scowling around at everyone, but that was ok; she was far from the only one. Lockwood handled what little conversation was offered them. She watched their surroundings suspiciously from his side.
…
“Ladies and Gentlemen, can I have your attention please!” called a seedy voice over the minimal chatter in the hall.
Instantly, everyone fell silent and turned to face the dais at the head of the hall. Ms. Winkman stood to the right, the left being occupied by a man at least a head shorter than her in a suit vest and pants with no jacket.
“If you would all like to make your way to your seats, the auction will begin momentarily,” continued the man, who could only be Mr. Winkman.
There was a general shuffle as everyone made for the cushioned folding chairs set up in rows facing the stage. Each chair was marked with a number corresponding to those on their paddles. Lockwood was the first to spot their own seats to the right of centre four rows back.
“I thought you scared them into pulling out all the stops for you when you secured the invite,” she murmured to him as they settled in their place. “Why are we stuck in the middle of nowhere?”
Lockwood laughed softly at her, quiet enough that no one else noticed in the general chaos of everyone trying to find their places. “We’re not in the middle of nowhere,” he explained pointing towards Winkman on the stage. “We’re directly in his line of sight. We’re close enough to be able to see the relics well, while also having a good view of other bidders. We’re comfortably sitting at the apex of auctioneer prime real estate.”
She frowned at him. “Wouldn’t that be in the middle of the front row though?”
Lockwood shot her a close-lipped smile from under his mask. “That’s often a little too close. And it means you can’t keep an eye on your competition unless they’re immediately next to you.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she conceded. It was not like she had any experience at these sorts of things anyway.
…
Three relics into the auction, she was getting antsy. As each relic was auctioned off, it was brought out from behind the curtain in a warded box, taken out and placed on a pedestal front and centre of the stage. The second the relic was bought, it was whisked away by Winkman’s help, and sealed inside its box again before being taken away. The first two runs happened alarmingly quickly.
She nudged Lockwood in the side to get his attention. “I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to break the curse,” she hissed in his ear when he gave her his attention. “The auctions are happening too fast.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured in her ear, “The one we’re after will take longer – more people will have been told to return with it than these early ones. And I can stall for you.”
By the fifth relic, she was not the only one who was twitchy. “Enough of this paltry!” called an uncouth man from the outside corner of the front row. “We want the magical’s lure!”
The Winkman’s glanced at each other as more shouts started up throughout the gathered assembly. Ms. Winkman held up her hands to silence the crowd. “Of course you do, that rarity!” she called teasingly. “And here she is!”
One of their people brought up a particularly small ward box and placed in on the table sitting innocuously behind the podium for the relics. A hush fell over the crowd as they were teased with the anticipation of the box opening. Her hand found Lockwood’s as she took a breath and readied herself for what she had to do. She felt him squeeze in answer back. Whistle, rustle, howl, crashing waves, bellowing wind, the hiss of steam. She was ready.
The box opened. A lump of metal formed in the shape of an actual human heart was carefully taken out and placed on the pedestal for everyone to see. A gurgling, wailing cry of agony assaulted her senses before she chased it back from her magic with burning, hissing steam.
Someone was choking on their own blood. She heard the wet gurgling sounds, and squeezed harder at the hand in hers in an attempt to anchor herself in her body. She filled her veins with steam to beat back the noise. They retreated reluctantly, but not before they changed to offer her the hair-raising squelch of flesh being parted cruelly by a blade.
She clenched her teeth so hard she felt they would shatter, and tried to focus on her breathing.
Chapter 57
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Her awareness was split between two worlds. On the one hand was the terrible sounds of suffering and parting flesh coming from the relic. On the other was her hand in Lockwood’s, the cheap folding chair underneath her, and the sounds of the auction progressing around them. She could not tune one out without opening herself to danger from the other.
Black magic tried to hammer away at her defences. She waited for the next strike, and then pounced on the tendril that approached her. She threw up her walls of steam and bright sunlight to cut off the retreat of that cloying sludge. The tiny fragment she captured gurgled angrily, bringing to mind a crimson frothing at the mouth. She filled all her veins with burning steam, just for a moment, and those dark thoughts retreated back to its fragment of master in a whimpering wail.
She pried at the clod of blackness she held, digging in her nails. Dimly, she registered Lockwood making use of the paddle Ms. Winkman had given him. This must have been what he meant when he said he could stall for her. She was not even sure if he had actually brought any money with him. If they ended up actually buying the thing, that would not be very good.
The sound of liquid suddenly bursting its bounds rang in her ears as she finally managed to pry back the skin of the magic to the secrets it held inside.
Sacrifice. That was what this magic came from. Murder, under duress. The magical who created it had done so under threat of death. But it had not been what their tormentor had wanted, and they had been killed anyway.
There was the core of power. It glittered and shimmered like an evil eye, watching her.
Just as she was about to crush it, several things happened at once. She felt a tingling at the back of her mind. Something other trickled like water down her head, along the back of her neck, only to teasingly cool a stipe down her back.
‘You must see.’
She did not so much as hear the words as feel them reverberate within herself. Every drop of magic from her core and her veins vibrated with it – propagated it.
A ringing kind of static tried to push into her mind, and that was when she understood what was happening. George had said ambient magic may be sending her visions. Apparently, it had figured out how to circumvent her charm necklace.
“No, please, not now!” she wailed inside her mind. The auction around her was getting fuzzy. Lockwood’s hand was clutching hers hard enough she might start losing feeling in her fingers soon. “Later, please! It’s not safe here!”
‘You must see.’
”I will, I promise! But not here, please!”
The static stayed put for a single heartbeat,
‘You will see.’
And then it was gone. She crushed the centre of black magic she had found instantly, using more force than she knew was wise.
…
“Gentleman,” boomed Winkman as he looked from Lockwood to one other patron. The same one that had interrupted before, demanding the magical’s lure be brought out. “Your enthusiasm for this item exceeds my high expectations. If you would both step forward please, and present proof of means, before we continue.”
“It’s just a formality gentlemen,” called Ms. Winkman across the crowd.
The other man rose haughtily from his group of three at the outside corner of the front row. Lockwood hesitated. Lucy had gone rigid next to him, and was clinging to his hand like she would be lost to wind if she let go.
Before he could make a decision, he felt a shiver run through her, and then he was bolting to his feet – the relic in question had burst into flame.
…
She felt Lockwood rise next to her as she gasped, crashing back to her surroundings. He pulled her up with him via the hand he still held. She stumbled as she crashed into his side. The next second, she realized why he’d done that – the relic was alight with blue fire, the runes covering its surface melting as they were obliterated. The fire touched nothing but the relic, and went out once it was reduced to nothing but a small pool of melted metal.
But pandemonium already reigned around them. Screams of “DSRAC!”, “curse-breaker”, and ill-defined screeches speckled the air. The gathered throngs of robed and masked vampire servants began trying to scramble for the exits.
“Lock the doors!” screamed Winkman over the chaos, “No one gets out of here till we find the cretin who did this!”
The throngs that had been rushing outwards were suddenly forced back by a press of roughish guards.
“Hold onto me,” rumbled Lockwood in her ear.
The question of what for died on her lips as she felt him slide the bracelet charm George had made up her arm under the sleave of her robe. It was large enough that it did not stop until it settled around her mid upper-arm. She shivered when it did, suddenly feeling as if someone had shuttered her senses, making everything silent and cold.
“Lock-”
“Shh,” he cut in, “I’ve got you.”
There was a clanging crash from somewhere above them.
“Up there!” yelled one of the guards ranged around the room. He was pointing to the shadowed catwalk on the left-hand side of the space.
Glancing over revealed the face of the vampire hunter who had volunteered as bait. She was sprawled on the ground in the manner of someone who had tripped while running.
“Get them! Now!” screeched Winkman.
Quick as a flash, the vampire hunter was on her feet again. Before she took off running, she lobbed something over the railing directly at the stage.
“Turn around and cover your ears!” cried Lockwood, “Don’t look!”
He pulled her in front of him as he turned his back to the stage. Hunched over her, he followed his own advice and she realized she should too.
The thrown canister hit the stage. A loud BOOM that made her brain rattle even through her muffling fingers sounded out, along with a brilliant, blinding flash of light.
Curses and screams and wails rang out.
“My eyes!”
“I can’t see!”
“VAMPIRE HUNTER! GET THEM!” raged Winkman from a heap on the stage.
Some groaned from their places on the floor, clutching their throbbing heads.
Lockwood listed into her, a pained grimace on his face. Oh no. If that explosion had been loud for her, it must have been agony for him.
She scanned the room for a means of escape. The guards were all rushing to the left-hand side of the building. Some of the burlier guests of the auction had pushed their way through the secure perimeter. Others were following them like water surging through a damaged dyke.
“Come on!” she yelled over the din, “We can get out this way!”
Lockwood still had his eyes screwed closed as she tugged him along. He stumbled after her, wincing at every sound around them.
…
The throngs of fleeing vampire followers burst through the last door to freedom and spilled into a walled courtyard to the side of the warehouse. The wide doors were flung open, and a myriad of identical sleek black cars were scattered around. Each vehicle had a stunned looking driver in the same black suit and mask standing next to it.
Some people made for the closest drivers and began arguing or bargaining for passage out of the place. Others took the more direct route, and ran for the open gates to the courtyard. Lockwood as still out of it from that blast, so she opted for the later route.
They were jostled and rammed as everyone present made frantically for the only exit. A pillar of metal darkness barrelled past – someone had convinced a driver to get them out, asap. Frantic people on foot sprang sideways to get out of the way. She ended up momentarily crushed under a much larger man who jumped back as the car whizzed past.
Lockwood seemed to have recovered himself, and hauled the guy off her before helping her up. Without meaning to, the man’s hand caught on the loose knot of the leather chord to her hidden bottle of vampire venom. The knot slipped as he was thrown away, and she felt the bottle fall down her shirt to be lost in the scramble of feet on the ground.
Neither of them saw the grouchy man who had interrupted the auction startle as he stepped on and crushed the bottle, before bending down to pick up what remained.
Notes:
PANDEMONIUM
And then 🧐
Chapter 58
Notes:
Ok everyone, breath. And then jump off the cliff again. :D
Chapter Text
Four blocks from the auction she finally collapsed, panting on the ground. Grimacing, she rubbed at the stitch in her side, large as Big Ben. Lockwood stood guard over her with his hand on her shoulder as she coughed, trying to get her breathing under control. They both ditched their robes and masks three streets back after finding themselves alone with no other people around.
When she was finally able to breath a little easier, Lockwood knelt down in front of her. “Luce, are you alright?”
“I’m…fine…” she wheezed. She coughed to clear her voice. “Are you ok?” she managed to ask in a clearer voice. “That explosion seemed really bad for you.”
He gave her a close-lipped smile. “I’m fine,” he soothed. “It was just a flash bomb – they’re meant to incapacitate ordinary people for a short time by overloading their senses. They work a little too well when used on vampires.”
“Is that how Winkman knew the DSRAC agent was a vampire hunter? Because they used a flash bomb?” she asked.
He shrugged. “He was likely just guessing about that – although the fact they were alone made it an educated guess. Regular law enforcement will sometimes employ flash bombs. And all DSRAC agents – vampire hunters or otherwise – carry them.”
“Lockwood…I lost the vial of your venom once we got outside,” she worried as he pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that unusual for a vampire servant to carry something like that. And everyone was probably too busy to notice anything amiss by that point anyway,” he said.
He gripped her arm where the charm to redirect ambient magic still sat, covering it with his hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he breathed as his eyes pierced her. “You smelled almost like you were about to have a vision back there.”
She gulped slightly.
“Luce?”
“I did almost have a vision,” she murmured. She thought about the voice she felt rather than heard. “I think…I think I’ll end up having one the second I take this charm off.”
Lockwood gave her one last searching look before nodding to himself. “In that case, let’s get you to the rendezvous point Flo set up for tonight. You’ll need to be looked over by a healer.”
She was exhausted and wanted to go home, straight to bed. But her weeks working as a curse-breaking at headquarters meant she knew nobody would allow her to do that until she got checked out. Though she grumbled about it, she followed him further into the night.
…
Flo found them on the intersection before the rendezvous point. “There you lot are,” she called out to them as they passed under a flickering streetlamp. “Locky, you should already have shifted. You’re lucky it was me who found you two and not the rest of the crew.”
“It’s fine Flo,” sighed Lockwood as she came upon them. “I wanted to make sure Lucy got to safety before I changed.”
Flo gave him a searching look, one eyebrow raised to the skyline. “Sure thing Locky. It’s got nothin to do with your head still ringin from the flash-bang our decoy set off.”
She blinked at Flo before rounding on Lockwood. “You said you were fine!”
“I am!” he enthused, hands raised in surrender. “Honestly Luce, it’s not that bad.”
“‘Not that bad’ he says,” snarked Flo, “I know Georgie went out earlier and got him a cut – make sure he feeds when you get him home, alright Love?”
Lockwood’s protest was cut off by her very firm “I will.”
If she had to suffer through getting checked out, it was only fair Lockwood would have to suffer feeding to recover from tonight. She crossed her arms and gave raised her chin, daring him to contradict her.
The let out a long, put upon sigh. “Fine.”
She smiled in triumph. Flo sternly told Lockwood to shift, then grabbed her and started leading her off to the DSRAC van waiting for them the next street over.
“Did the vampire hunter manage to make it out?” she asked as she was herded away.
“Sure thing,” answered Flo. “Called me in to make use of the getaway option. I’d be annoyed at having some broad on my boat, but I’ve got to give her props for resourcefulness. Saw her get hemmed in on the roof of the building – jumped right off into the river. Just stupid enough to be impressive, that.”
She shivered at the very thought. Lockwood had in fact shifted into his other form and was flying lazy circled around them as they walked. “Glad we didn’t have to do that. I hate heights.”
Too soon for her liking, the DSRAC van came into view.
“Look alive folks!” called out Flo, “I’ve found our girl!”
The back doors of the van were thrown open to reveal the vampire hunter sitting inside wrapped in a blanket looking sodden. A 40-something woman in dark grey scrubs bustled out and tsked over her before dragging her into the van.
She saw Lockwood fly up and perch out of sight on the roof of the van before she was ushered inside and forced to sit down. A couple more agents, their hands ready on their side-arms filled in behind them, watching the streets for any trouble.
“Where’s your partner then?” asked one of the other agents.
“Shy one that,” answered Flo before she could. “Scurried off as soon as he made sure the coast was clear and Girlie here was safe.”
All the DSRAC agents, including the healer stopped and frowned at Flo.
“That’s not how a partner is supposed to work,” commented one of the guys standing guard outside.
Flo just shrugged. “Got the job done, didn’t he though?” she pointed out. “S’nothing can be done about it now.”
Oh dear; Barnes was definitely hearing about this.
The healer shook off her disapproval before fixing her attention back onto her. “Now then, Bonnard mentioned something about a redirection charm for ambient magic you would be wearing?”
She ended up having to take off her jacket to give the healer access to the charm band around her upper arm. “I put it on after I broke the curse on the relic,” she explained when asked. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I’m probably going to have a vision if you take it off – I almost had one in the middle of the auction before putting it on.”
She did not tell the healer about feeling a voice tell her that she must see, or that she would see. That felt too personal for giving up to someone she had just met.
“Visions are usually hard on you, aren’t they Love?” called Flo from her spot in the doorway of the van. “Georgie’s yammered on about it once or twice.”
“Yeah,” she breathed.
It turned out the healer did not need to take the charm bracelet off to check if she suffered any damage from curse-breaking. Her soul was poked at first before anything else. Then she was put in another trance spell that would hopefully make the vision easier to handle. She felt the static fill her mind the second the metal of the bracelet stopped touching her skin.
…
“This. Is not. What I ordered of you,” growled a woman’s voice, dangerous and low. “Look at these fools you’ve summoned! Tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do with their petty magic?”
“I…I…I’m sorry Your Grace!” stuttered a reedy voice. “I…do not know what happened! I believed the enchantment would work! Please, have mercy!”
“No, I don’t think I will,” boomed the woman. “Now that I see you really are the strongest of the bunch, I have another use for you.”
An inhuman snarl. A high-pitched, wailing scream. The sound of fangs sinking into flesh, followed by that of a heavy object being flung to the floor.
“Perhaps My Lady will finally get lucky with this one, and be able to walk in the daylight once again,” commented a smooth male voice, unconcernedly.
“Find me a better one this time,” ordered the woman without acknowledging what the man said.
She gasped awake to find Lockwood pressed against her arm. The healer was hovering over her face, shooting him a disdainful look every so often. Flo was sitting at her feet. At least this time it looked like no one had needed to restrain her.
She groaned in her exhaustion, and lay there panting. The healer poked and prodded at her some more, but did not find anything wrong. She did not lift the trance state as Flo directed the other agents to dive her home.
‘Do you see?’ she felt reverberate through her magic zipping through her veins.
Maybe she was starting to.
Chapter 59
Notes:
I give you reprieve in the form of fluff - Enjoy! ;D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The healer removed the trance spell once the van pulled up out front of the house. It left her feeling like a groggy zombie, which she decided immediately that she hated. Lockwood stubbornly remained pressed against her arm the entire ride. The healer had tried to shoo him away at one point; he had not budged, instead choosing to glare at her with his glittering eyes. Despite the situation, Flo had found the entire thing unbearably funny.
“Best give up while you’re behind there, Doc,” she chuckled, “Doesn’t look like her friend’s goin anywhere any time soon, does it?”
Flo helped her out of the van while the DSRAC agents stood guard, scanning the street for any other movement. There was a single light on inside the house. It looked like George had stayed up, waiting for them.
She was well enough that she did not need Flo’s support getting up the steps. Lockwood flew through immediately when she opened the door. George stood in the hall – Lockwood next to him back in his human form – as her and Flo shuffled inside.
“How did it go? Is everyone alright?” rushed George, eyes sweeping over her first, then Lockwood, then Flo.
“Everyone’s fine George,” soothed Lockwood. “You needn’t worry.”
“Someone threw a flash bomb during the auction,” she blurted after shooting Lockwood an unimpressed look.
George fixed him with his keen-eyed stare. “There’s a cut of meat on the table in the kitchen. Do I need to follow you to make sure you feed?” he asked threateningly.
Lockwood pouted at her for the betrayal before sighing. “No, I’ll go. Once we get Lucy to bed.”
She shrugged off his hand, taking a step away to stand with her hands on her hips. “I’m fine to get to bed by myself. I was already looked over by a healer, who said there was nothing wrong with me. You still have to feed to recover from that explosion!”
“I’ll leave you lot to work things out for yourselves, I think,” commented Flo, interrupting them. There was a faint smirk on her face as she surveyed the three of them. “Got to go let Barnesy know we got it, with everyone still intact.”
They all murmured their goodbyes as she left. The DSRAC van still sat outside waiting for her to return. Once she was in, they watched the doors all slam and the van take off in the direction of headquarters.
“Lucy, are you going to need any help getting upstairs?” asked George.
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m just really tired.”
“Did the charm affect you more than we thought? You seem a little under the weather,” he worried.
She gave him a tired smile. “It wasn’t your charm, Georgie,” she sighed, “I had a vision once we got to the rendezvous point. The healer Flo had waiting there to check me out put me in a trance for it – it’s left me a little groggy, is all. I can get upstairs on my own.”
George looked like he wanted to interrogate her for every detail about her newest vision, but restrained himself. He gave her a curt nod, then turned his attention to Lockwood. “You. Kitchen. Feed. Now,” he ordered.
“Luce, are you sure –”
“I’m fine. Now go look after yourself,” she chided before he could finish his sentence. She gave him a small shove in the direction of the kitchen to further make her point.
“Call if you need anything, alright Lucy?” said George.
He waited for the nod before he proceeded to drag a reluctant Lockwood in the direction of the kitchen.
“I don’t care what happened,” she heard George grumble as she made her way upstairs. “If the healer said she’s fine, she’s fine. You probably have two ruptured eardrums after a that flash bomb went off in the same room as you. And that’s not going to go away unless you feed. Kitchen. NOW. No arguments.”
…
She did not emerge from her room until well after noon the next day. By the time she had gotten into bed the night before, it was already three in the morning, and she was dead tired. She half expected Lockwood to be hovering when she woke. If he had been by to check on her, he decided not to stay. Her room was empty and pleasantly quiet when she woke.
Venturing downstairs to the kitchen for something to eat, she heard murmuring through the door. Expecting to find Flo taking up space, she was a little surprised to see George, a stuffed file folder sitting on the table next to him. Lockwood sat across from him, steaming cup of tea in hand.
They both looked up as she opened the door.
Lockwood shot her a bright close-lipped smile. “Luce! How are you this afternoon? Did you sleep well?” he asked, his eyes twinkling a little.
She yawned as she plopped down into her usual seat. “Fine, and yes,” she said in answer to his two questions. “What’s for breakfast? …or, lunch I guess.”
George had already eaten, but he made enough that there was still plenty left over. She chowed down on the lukewarm food, even as a perfectly sugary tea and a couple pieces of slightly-burned buttered toast were placed in front of her. Ravenous after their midnight adventure, she ate it all.
“So, what happened last night at the auction?” prompted Goerge once she was finished eating and was nursing her cup. “Lockwood filled me in, but I want to hear what you experienced Lucy, since you’re the only one who knows what really happened to you.”
She stared into the depths of her tea for a moment, a frown on her face.
“You nearly had a vision in the middle of the auction,” offered Lockwood. “What triggered it Luce?”
“It was the relic,” she said, still frowning. “At least, I think it was the relic. The vision was definitely about the relic at least…but…”
She was not sure how to word it all. “I…was using magic identification on the relic to figure out more about it so I could break the curse. The magical who made it…wasn’t actually happy that he had. He was forced into it. And he was killed after it was made.”
She fiddled with the handle of her mug while she gathered her thoughts for this next bit. “I’d broken off a piece of the black magic to make it easier to identify and find what I needed. It was after I’d done that that I heard it…well, I didn’t actually hear it so much as I felt it…”
“What did you hear?” asked Georged, watching her intently.
She met his keen eyes with no small amount of hesitation. “I heard a voice tell me that I had to see something. It was like…like my own magic was vibrating in the exact way to make the sound I heard though. I begged it not to make me see while in the middle of the auction house, because it would have completely blown our cover – it told me I would see, and then went away.”
She felt a hollow pit in her stomach at the silence that greeted her. Did they believe her? They had to believe her – they had believed everything else.
George cleared his throat as he pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. Lockwood’s hand found her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“We believe you Lucy,” he rumbled quietly.
He gave her a thin-lipped smile at the look of relief she could not hide from her eyes.
“Yes, of course we believe you,” bustled George. “This is fascinating – other lodestone magicals have claimed they could actually commune with magic in the past, but nothing has ever been proven. You were still wearing your healing charm at the auction?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed lost in thought for a long time before shaking himself and focusing back on her. “This is proof that your visions are not just coming from your own magic, but are being sent to you from ambient magic. Can you describe everything from your experience, including what happened at the auction, and the vision you had in the DSRAC van?”
…
George took many notes as he interrogated her for every detail. “You’re sure the other male voice from your vision is the same as the older man you made the drawing of?” he asked for the third time.
“Yes I’m sure,” she grouched, “It was the same voice.”
George frowned at his notebook, casting the file folder next to him a newly suspicious look.
“What is it, George?” asked Lockwood at his continued silence. “What are you thinking?”
Without any warning, George sprang to his feet and collected his things together in his arms. “I have to head to the DSRAC archives,” he declared, “There are some things I need to double check.”
He did not say anything else as he rushed off. She threw Lockwood a bewildered look. He smiled a little ruefully. “Don’t look at me for answers,” he laughed, “I have no more idea what George is thinking from one second to the next than you!”
…
Barnes showed up, with Wade in tow not that long after, usual scowl firmly in place. Ostensibly, his visit was to collect her report on what had happened last night. In reality, it was also an opportunity for him to try squeezing information about her partner.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you Inspector,” she shrugged as innocently as she could. Lockwood was not making things any easier by sitting on her knee preening his feathers. For some reason, she found herself unable to shoo him away. “They didn’t abandon me. My friend stayed with me until he was sure I was safe with Flo at the rendezvous point, but didn’t stick around because he doesn’t like new people he’s never met.”
It seemed like the most believable lie, even if she was relatively certain Lockwood would have no problems being a social butterfly if he had the chance.
Barnes did not lighten the scowl he gave her. “Even so, Miss Carlyle. I still require a statement from him about his involvement in the operation from last night.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“See that you do, please. Good day,” bustled Barnes. He was almost through the door before he paused. “And Carlyle?”
“Yees?” she strung out, wondering what new scolding she was going to get now.
Barnes considered her for a long moment in stony silence. “Good job last night. To you and your…firend.”
She smiled as he left. “Thanks, Inspector.”
When she turned back, Lockwood had vacated her knee and turned back into a human. “If you’ll be alright here Luce, I’ll go out in search of a computer to type up a report for the Inspector. You or George can take it with you and deliver it the next time one of you goes to headquarters.”
She folded her arms and leveled him with a stern expression. “And where exactly are you going to find this computer? We don’t have one in the house.”
He shot her a wink and a close-lipped smile. “Why, the public library, of course!”
She groaned in answer.
He only laughed. “No one will blink twice at me, Luce.”
“How do you expect to get into the computers there?”
His eyes twinkled as he pulled out a library card with a flourish. “I lifted George’s card from him earlier – I figured the Inspector might demand some form of report from me.”
She eyed the card for a moment before turning frowning at him some more. “I suppose you know George’s password too then?” she asked archly.
Lockwood’s close-lipped grin stretched a little wider. “‘I’m sorry, Mr. Librarian, but I’ve forgotten my password! I need to use the computer, but I can’t get in!’,” he trilled, affecting a perfectly flustered air for one who really had lost their password.
She felt a smile of amusement twitch at her own face, but managed to hold it back behind her stern expression. “I saw nothing. There was nothing I could have done to stop you.”
Lockwood winked at her before melting away, his laughter filling the house. Smiling despite herself, she gathered her drawing supplies and set about her day.
…
“LOCKWOOD!” she heard George bellow latter that night. She was currently sitting in her room reading through Norrie’s favourite book once again – she’d only just heard George come in the door.
“DID YOU STEAL MY LIBRARY CARD!?”
Silence.
“OH, SO YOU CHANGED MY PASSWORD TOO!?”
She tried to muffle her laughter in her hand, uncertain how deep in the house the boys were. It was possible Lockwood would still hear her laughing at him.
When she went down for supper that night, she found George breathing down Lockwood’s neck as he washed every dish, pot and pan in the house. She ended up needing to take her dinner to the sitting room to eat – unable to stop giggling at Lockwood’s resignation to his punishment.
“I don’t even use these dishes,” she heard him grumble under his breath.
“Too bad. We do, so keep washing,” snarked George.
Notes:
My favourite moment:
George: DId yOu StEAl mY LIbrArY CaRD!
Lockwood: Maybe? I needed to use a computer there!
George: I hereby declare you on dishes duty for the rest of the night, or until I am otherwise satisfied.
🤣🤣😁😉
Chapter 60
Notes:
I am playing fast and loose with history here guys, so I hope it translates alright. 😁🤞🏻
Chapter Text
“Hey Lucy! Did you at any point have a conversation with Kipps where you didn’t punch him in the face?” asked George out of the blue the next afternoon when he returned from DSRAC.
She paused in shading the drawing she was currently working on. “I might have, why?”
“Because he invited himself to the archives today and made his best attempt at apologizing to me for insinuating that I think all vampires are fluffy bunnies we need to protect from the boogie man.”
She heard Lockwood choke on a surprised snort from the other room. George ignored him, and she made no comment.
“And what did you say to that?”
“I asked him what physical retribution you’d threatened him with to get him to admit to a failure of morality in any capacity.”
“George!” she giggled, “I didn’t threaten him!”
He eyed her as if trying to spot her in a lie.
“Honest!” she continued. “He tracked me down the day before the auction and apologized, then told me why he’s so set against vampires and their servants. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and heard him out. Then I told him he needed to apologize to you and Flo before it’d make any difference to me.”
“Do either of you know if he did apologize to Flo then?” asked Lockwood as he walked into the room. He shot her a thin-lipped smile before making himself comfortable in his usual chair.
“Yeah,” said George. “She told me he’d come to her before she left DSRAC on Monday. Flo let him onto one of the two DSRAC boats that were there as backup. He was actually the first one to ensure the vampire hunter from that night was ok. Flo sent him, along with the others, off before heading out to the rendezvous point to meet with you lot.”
She nodded her head in contemplation a few times as George finished his little story. “That’s good, then.”
George considered her for a long moment. “Does this mean you’re going to tell Barnes you’ll work with him again?” he asked.
Both boys watched her as she thought about it.
“I’m going to talk to him again first,” she said finally. “But yeah, I think I might go talk to Barnes.”
…
The next day she went into headquarters with George in the morning. “Are you going to tell us what you’ve been researching at any point?” she asked on the cab ride over. He currently had his nose buried in his papers again.
George had squirreled himself away in his room every night since she told him about her latest vision. There was a manic sort of determination about him she had not seen before. Even Lockwood said he was acting different.
He blinked at her as if only just realizing she was sitting next to him. “I’ll say something soon. I just need a little more time. What this means…it could be big. I don’t want to find out latter that I got it all wrong.”
“Ook,” her drawled. “That’s very specific.”
“I’ll be specific when I’m sure.”
He had no more to say after that. The rest of the drive was spent in silence as he pored over whatever it was he was into.
…
“Carlyle. I hear you’ve been looking for me?”
She turned to find Kipps coming up behind her from the direction of the lunch room. “Yeah,” she said, “I wanted to talk.”
Kipps made sure to stand more than an arms length back and regarded her warily. “What about?” he asked.
“I heard that Flo let you on the boats the night of the auction. And that you tried apologizing to George.”
He shifted uneasily in place. His nose was still bandaged, as it would continue to be for the next four weeks, or however much longer it took to properly heal. “You heard right,” he stammered.
They watched each other beadily for a long time.
“What do you say about them now?” she challenged.
Kipps seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment in thought. He seemed wary of answering, correctly assuming that if he said anything disparaging this conversation would not go well.
“Bonnard is…I don’t quite like her,” he managed, “but she’s good at what she does. Everyone involved in the auction job made it out in one piece; including you and whoever your partner was who infiltrated it.”
“And George?”
Kipps crossed his arms and turned his face away looking distinctly uncomfortable. “He’s a good researcher,” he finally admitted, “Probably the best in the whole of DSRAC – and don’t you dare tell him I said that! His theories about vampires…aren’t complete nonsense.”
She stood frowning at him sternly for a long moment. Kipps seemed to squirm under her intense scrutiny. “Good enough, I suppose,” she finally admitted. “But if you’re ever that much of a dick again, I will refuse to work with you permanently.”
He sighed. “That’s fair.”
They went to Barnes together after that and she told the Inspector they had come to an agreement – they would work together again. Barnes looked as close to relieved as he could get. Kat and Bobby were informed they would be resuming curse-breaking with her and Kipps the next day.
…
It was not until a few days latter that George finally elected to tell her and Lockwood just what was occupying so much of his attention. “I want to share my research on the people in your visions,” he declared at the breakfast table.
She froze, the last piece of her morning toast half-way to her mouth.
“You’ve figured everything out then, have you?” asked Lockwood. He sat up straighter to give him is full attention.
George grimaced in answer. It was not the triumphant expression she would have expected.
“You don’t look very happy about what you’ve found,” she commented after munching thoughtfully on her last bite.
“That’s because what I’ve found is still incomplete,” he admitted, “But this is too big for me to keep to myself at this point.”
“Alright George, you’ve drawn this out long enough,” goaded Lockwood, “We’re both sitting on pins and needles here wondering. Go on.”
In answer, George opened the bulging file folder sitting on his lap and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was a scan of a picture of a painting, grainy and greyscale after so many layers of reproduction. “Is this the older man you saw in your vision Lucy?” he asked.
Though the reproduction was butchered beyond belief, the face of the man stood out plainly. His eyes seemed to glitter with a dark light that sent a shiver down her spine. The planes of his face framed in sharp angles.
“That’s him,” she said after a moment of staring at those eyes. “That’s the man from my vision.” She let the page flutter back down to the table and looked back up to George. “Who is he?”
“The Honourable Sir Rupert Gale; Lady Marrisa Fites’ personal friend and right hand.”
“What’s got you so fixated on this?” asked Lockwood. He was watching George with an intense look of concentration. “Sir Rupert Gale was well known to have been instrumental in Lady Marrisa’s research confirming the existence of vampires and determining how best to fight them.”
“I’m fixated because it’s starting to look like Sir Rupert was instrumental in that for very different reasons than everyone thinks,” muttered George darkly.
Her and Lockwood shared arched looks before listening as George continued. He pulled out another piece of paper from his file – this one covered in his scrawled notes. “Lucy, you told me in the first vision you had of that wild-haired vampire he said, and I quote ‘I leave the suspicious deaths to her now, you see. I was one of those. That’s why I’m like this now.’ Then, in the next subsequent vision you had, you told me you heard the man we now know is Sir Rupert say this: ‘my mistress has insisted you’re return,’ when talking to that same vampire.”
He glanced from her bewildered face to Lockwood’s contemplative frown and sighed. “In the latest vision, you told us you heard Sir Rupert again, this time speaking with a woman who was obviously a vampire in a manner suggesting he worked for her. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“George,” cautioned Lockwood, “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
He stored away the first set of notes, only to pull out another, bulkier bundle of the same. “Recorded histories tell us Sir Rupert Gale was the first real vampire hunter. He took up the mantle of it after Lord Fites’ unexplained death, and was instrumental in aiding the Lady Marissa in the caretaking of her late husband’s fiefdom. The Lady Marissa generously compensated him for his help, and though they never married, Sir Rupert greatly benefited from her wealth and influence. According to the records, he was killed 15 years after Lord Fites’ death when the first recorded Covenist vampire collapsed a stone monastery on top of him. I could find no record of a body ever being found in the rubble.”
“Why would a Covenist vampire go through all the trouble of collapsing a building and not just kill him?” she asked, immeasurably confused.
“You think Sir Rupert became a vampire,” commented Lockwood softly. He had not seemed to blink since George started into his explanation. “Vampires don’t feed on each other.”
“Um…why not?”
“Doesn’t taste very good,” mumbled Lockwood.
He was tense now. There was an unpleasant story there. She was not sure if she wanted to know.
“Usually, if one vampire kills another, they’ll rip out their opponent’s heart,” offered George to smooth over the moment.
She just gave him a horrified look, then turned to Lockwood. “That’s what happened to the girl, isn’t it?” she demanded in a high-pitched squeak. “With the Rampager who attacked me! I saw you outside that night! There was a really big dark stain in the alley behind the store, and those piles of funny smelling ash…”
Lockwood gave her a bewildered look at the first, but then things slowly seemed to click into place. “I’d almost forgotten about that,” he murmured. “You told us you saw at least the start of their disagreement in another of your visions.”
The silence that coated the room was cloying and sticky. It had its own physical presence. “…there was blood on his face,” she whispered.
George regarded her calmly. Lockwood’s sharp look returned to his eye.
“In that flash I got…there was blood on Sir Rupert’s face…”
“My theory is it wasn’t his blood, but that of the vampire he was facing.”
“You think he died that night,” surmised Lockwood, “You think the young vampire from Lucy’s vision killed him during their confrontation, but not before he was injured. Sir Rupert ended up swallowing a small amount of his blood before being killed.”
“I was able to unearth an obscure medical report about Sir Rupert whereby the physician waxed poetic about how he’d survived the impossible. He’d suffered severe injuries to his neck, but the wounds healed in almost no time and Sir Rupert suffered no long-term ill effects. I only got fragments of the report – most of it was destroyed in a fire in the physician’s home around the same time he died. He was killed in an ‘animal attack’ where his trachea was crushed.”
They were all quiet as they digested this new information.
“Guys,” she whispered, “What difference does it make if Sir Rupert ended up becoming a vampire?”
“We need to figure out who the female vampire he was answering to in your latest vision was,” declared George, his tone dark. “If Sir Rupert did become a vampire, the question then becomes this; when exactly was he turned? And more importantly, why would he help the Lady Marissa discover all she could about vampires and how to fight them, when he was putting himself at risk by doing so?”
“And why did he never attack her, when she was a powerful magical?” added in Lockwood, his tone dark.
“I need to visit the Fites estate at Ightham Court,” declared George after a long beat of silence.
“Absolutely not!” snarled Lockwood suddenly.
She jumped at his sudden vehemence. Both her and George blinked at him in confusion.
“Why the hell not?” snapped George, looking mulish.
“Because the oldest coven in existence is based near there!”
George frowned at him. “DSRAC took over maintaining the Fites estate 53 years ago,” he hedged, examining Lockwood consideringly. “The estate itself should be safe…”
“You have already said it’s suspicious how Lucy could have gone so long in life without being found by DSRAC,” growled Lockwood. “I find myself distrusting any member of DSRAC unknown to us. And that’s not to mention the other problem – magic is extinct in the area around the lost village of Dode. Has been since the mid 1300’s. You might not have much magic, George, but you will stick out like a beacon if you so much as set foot there. I will not allow you to go.”
“Lockwood, the Black Plague happened in the mid 1300’s. Weren’t you born like 200 years after that anyway?”
“The plague was not the only thing in Kent at the time,” he hissed. “My family home was near Fairseat – which is not that far away from either location. We were close enough to have heard the stories. Around the same time as people started getting sick, all the magicals in the area suddenly felt a pull towards Dode. Anyone who left did not come back.”
“Lockwood –”
“You are not going,” he growled with startling finality. “Tell me what you want to know, and I will go.”
Absolute silence.
Chapter 61
Notes:
Looks like Lucy's boys are fighting, and she doesn't know how to feel about it!
(she figures it out ;)
Chapter Text
George did not give up so easily, even in the face of Lockwood’s stubbornness.
“You’re not even a researcher!”
“My family was wealthy and spared no expense on my education; it’s not like I never learned how to read, George.”
“You could miss something important!”
“As could you. I at least have the advantage of first-hand knowledge of history and can more easily weed out inaccurate conjecture.”
“What happens if I need to delve deeper into the specifics of something you bring back?” snarked George.
“Then I will go again to Ightham Court and get you what you need,” stated Lockwood.
And so, on it went. Neither boy was willing to give the slightest bit of ground. By the time she slipped away, having grown anxious in the tense atmosphere that had developed in the kitchen, nothing was settled. If you wanted her opinion about it, Lockwood looked like he was going to win. She could tell George was stumbling and wrong-footed by Lockwood’s obstinacy. She was not sure where it was coming from, but something was telling her not to challenge him on it this time.
…
“You seem distracted today Carlyle,” commented Kat when she met with her team to head to the vaults for another spot of curse-breaking.
“Hmm?” she startled. “Oh. No, I’m fine.”
But now she found herself being scrutinized by not just Kat, but Bobby and – more worryingly – Kipps too.
“Lucy,” rumbled Kipps looking stern. “If there’s something personal going on that’s bothering you, you shouldn’t be exposing yourself to the risks of curse-breaking. What is it?”
She scratched at the back of her neck, sighing in resignation. Her fingers found the clasp of her necklace’s silver chain, so she began playing with that. She’d have to try her best to explain now, weather she wanted to or not. “It’s just…George said this morning he wants to go somewhere to research something. And we have this friend who was there when he did and they…very forcefully put their foot down and told him they weren’t going to let him go. They…think it’s too dangerous.”
Bobby looked more startled than anyone else.
“Karim may be a lot of things,” mused Kipps, “But he’s not reckless. Where does he want to go?”
“…I don’t think I should say…” she hedged.
Her teammates all stared at her, looking offended.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you guys!” she rushed, “It’s just…what George is researching now…it could end up being a really, really big deal. And we don’t have all the facts, so even he’s not sure if he should say anything to anyone yet…or even what he would say if he did say anything…”
She trailed off looking around at everyone’s faces nervously. Kat may as well have been carved of stone, unhappy pug-face and all. Kipps was watching her and frowning.
Bobby seemed to have already moved on from the topic. “I don’t see why this affects you at all.”
She scowled at him.
“Vernon,” warned Kipps.
But it was already too late. “Karim likes to think he knows everything,” continued Bobby without noticing. “He’s good at writing fancy papers supporting obscure theories. But that doesn’t have any practical purpose.”
“I suppose you’d know all about practical,” she muttered menacingly.
“Vernon,” warned Kipps again, more forcefully.
Bobby still had not noticed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her.
“It’s not like you do any actual thinking when you research anything,” she snarked. “Whatever the first answer you come across, that’s all you ever mention there is. Even if it’s not the whole story.”
“That’s not true! My research is thorough!”
“Except it’s not. I’ve noticed more than once while curse-breaking that you didn’t quite get things right – which meant I had to improvise because you told me to look in the wrong place.”
“I don’t get things wrong!” he wailed like a petulant child.
“I never said you did,” she stated. She was maddeningly calm now as she watched him huff and puff. “I just said you sometimes don’t quite get things right. You don’t believe me, go back and look through my old reports for curse-breaking yourself.”
Bobby continued to stutter and fume in indignation. Kipps had buried his face in his hands so he did not have to witness the catastrophe.
“Curse-breaking is cancelled for today,” declared Kat suddenly. She grabbed Bobby by his shirt collar and hauled him away without waiting for anyone else to agree or disagree.
“That’s what I looked like when you went toe-to-toe with me, isn’t it?” sighed Kipps after a moment.
She shot him a dashing smile that had too many teeth to be friendly. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Kipps groaned, and she laughed at him.
…
Since her day was cut short, she decided to go visit Arif before heading home.
“What brought you here this time, little Missy?” asked Arif once he was alone with her.
She shrugged at him. “They guys are just having a disagreement, is all,” she mumbled. “I’m not sure what’s fueling it, other than overprotectiveness.”
Arif seemed lost in thought for a long time. “Is it about a girl?” he asked after a moment.
She could not help herself; she suddenly burst out laughing. She fell right out of her chair, and then continued to laugh while on the floor. Just the idea of George and Lockwood liking the same girl was enough to put her in stitches.
“…Alright, not a girl then,” chuckled Arif while he watched her.
“No,” she wheezed, “I’m not sure who they’d like. Maybe George fancies Flo a little, now that I think about it.” She fell into contemplating this new concept. It was strange just how not strange George liking Flo seemed. She had noticed George starting to go out of his way to see her.
“So what started this disagreement then?” asked Arif to get her attention back.
“George wants to go somewhere for research, and Lockwood thinks it’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous, for the same reasons you were in danger, little Missy?” asked Arif quietly.
She shifted in her seat, refusing to meet his eye. “Yeah.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard the other boys name, from you or anyone else,” commented Arif after a beat of silence.
Oops. “Don’t tell anyone?”
“Even Laura?”
“Especially Laura. She’s a terrible gossip.”
“…That she is…Any particular reason?” asked Arif after another moment of thought.
“They’d hurt him if they found him.”
She did not specify who the “they” were, and Arif did not ask.
“Alright then. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
…
She tiptoed carefully towards the kitchen when she finally got home, wondering where the boys were and if they were still arguing. She found George sitting at the table with a cold cup of tea looking wrung out.
“Hey, you ok?” she asked.
He jumped, not having realized she had come home. “Oh! Hi Lucy. Yes, I’m fine.”
“Did you…convince Lockwood to let you go to the Fites estate?”
“No,” he breathed. “I did not.”
“Then are you…mad at him still?”
“I eventually bullied him into telling me the real reason why he doesn’t want me to go, so no.”
She watched him stare into his teacup without seeing it. “What was the reason?”
George shook himself and fixed her with his keen eyes. “You’ll have to ask him that for yourself.”
“Do you know where he is?” she asked softly.
George shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. Although if I had to make a guess, I’d say he went into the room on the landing.”
Since Lockwood was not in the basement swinging a sword around to avoid his own feelings, nor locked away in his room moping, she ended up coming to the same conclusion as George.
…
She was sitting in the library trying to make it look like she was not listening for any doors opening deeper in the house. A couple hours after having a very quiet supper with George, she finally heard what she was looking for.
She rushed to the stairway when she did, and caught Lockwood standing facing the door to where she knew his sister slept. His shoulders were tense and shaking, and he had his hand pressed flat against the door.
“Hey Luce,” he whispered, immediately letting his hand drop and turning to look at her. “Is there something you need?” He tried giving her his usual close-lipped smile, but his eyes gave away that he was not feeling it.
“I was about to ask you the same question.”
His shoulders slumped as he sighed. “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” she quietly prodded. “Why are you so against George going to the Fites estate?”
…
The fire crackled in the grate of the library, filling the room with a calming warmth. Lockwood and her both sat in the comfy old wingback armchairs, silently watching the flames dance.
“I’ve told you my parents were scholars trying to figure out where vampires came from,” whispered Lockwood into the silence. “The magical world knew about them, though no one had yet found the writings of Lady Marissa Fites. They were not really understood. That’s what they wanted to fix.”
She stayed silent as she watched him. He needed to say things in his own time. Especially when it was something as personal as this.
“They found something,” he continued. The wisps of fire reflected in his glassy eyes. “They wouldn’t tell us what it was – only that it was important. They were meant to go to a gathering of magical intellectuals in Hartley in a month’s time to talk about it. They never got the chance. I latter learned that the beginnings of DSRAC came out of that gathering.”
He fell silent as the log on the fire popped. Sparks flew upwards, dancing on the edge of danger only to disappear.
“It could have been something as simple as them discovering the existence of the coven in the area,” he whispered. His hands were clenched, knuckles whiter than his normal pale parlour. “Whatever it was they found, they’d attracted the attention of a Covenist who wasn’t happy with them. So my sister and I were turned in front of them as punishment.”
She reached over and took his hand in hers. He did not look away from the shifting flames. “I can’t let George go anywhere near there,” he muttered. “I never saw who turned me – there’s every chance they’re still around. And if they are, they might be able to smell me on George. He has a family of his own…I can’t let history repeat itself.”
She hugged him then. For once, he did not hesitate to return the embrace.
“You told George?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
She hugged him tighter. A fleeting sense of victory came over her when he did not hesitate to burry his face in her neck, seeking out the comfort she offered.
Chapter 62
Notes:
Alright, which one of you was it who ordered the heaping portion of Locklyle?
*serves the massive silver platter*
ヾ(@⌒ー⌒@)ノ
Chapter Text
If anything further was said about Ightham Court and the Fites estate, she did not hear about it. The boys continued on as if nothing important had happened or been said. The only real difference was a forging of a closer relationship between them. Their usual bickering contained a softer, fonder edge now.
Before she even realized it, there was less than a week to go before Christmas day. A bitter cold spell had enveloped London. Skins of ice began building up along the shores of the Thames. George grumbled about it continuously.
“It’s really not that bad,” she laughed at him one evening when he came home looking like he put on 50 pounds in wool padding alone.
“Just because you’re used to living in the polar vortex doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” muttered George darkly.
“I’d have to agree with Luce on this one, George,” commented Lockwood with a close-lipped smile. “I’m relatively certain the north of England is not located in the arctic circle. Your layers seem a little excessive.”
…
The day after that exchange, she came home to find the house smelling of fresh pine. The first thing she found was a wreath of evergreen tree boughs accented in bright red holly berries on the front door. Once inside, every doorway was draped in ivy with an artfully arranged crown of more evergreen and holly berries. The tabletops were graced with decorative arrangements that threw mistletoe into the mix. Thankfully, she did not see any mistletoe hanging in the doorways to create any awkward encounters.
Venturing into the sitting room, she discovered the mantlepiece decorated in a similar, though more extravagant fashion to the doorways. Sitting pride of place in the centre was a beautiful, though chipped tea cup on a matching saucer that had been turned into a candle. Delicate little silver bells and white spun glass spheres adorned the branches. Interspersed were ceramic houses and conical trees small enough to fit in your hand and dusted in flecks of white glaze to look like snow. A string of white lights threaded through the whole ensemble casting shadows and sparkles about.
It was the Christmas tree that stole the show though, siting framed in the large front windows. There was none of that plastic garbage that passed for tinsel wreaths she was familiar with from her old town. In their place were delicate strands of polished tin, twisted into spirals. Each one spun slightly as it dangled, throwing ever-shifting twinkling lights about themselves. More silver bells and spun glass spheres in silver and white filled in the spaces between the tin spirals. Strands of white Christmas lights threw sparkles over all of it. The shimmering blue-white tree skirt could have been pure silk for all she knew. And topping the tree was a very old, well-loved looking star. At it’s centre were six small white crystals – five points, and the anchor between them - that could have been glass, or something more precious. An inlaid border of gold surrounded those. The body of the decoration was engraved silver with swirling lines of pattern, slightly tarnished now from age, but no less beautiful for it.
“What do you think?” asked Lockwood’s voice from the doorway.
She spun to face him, her eyes sparkling the same as the tree. “How did you manage all this?” she wondered, “Half this stuff looks like real silver!”
“It is.”
“But silver burns vampires!”
“I wore thick leather gloves,” he answered with a soft laugh and smile. “It’s not completely foolproof, but it keeps away the burning.”
She made him show her his hands after that. His skin was maybe a little dry, but he did not look any worse for the wear. She was too awed by it all to think of scolding him for risking burning off his hands.
George’s first reaction upon returning home was to methodically hunt through the house to make sure there was not a sprig of mistletoe hiding anywhere to ambush them with.
“I love the faith you have in me there George,” goaded Lockwood from his place at the kitchen table.
George, having finally finished his pre-emptive search through the house was settling in to cook supper. “Laugh all you want. I’m not interested in snogging either of you just because of a weird old social convention.”
She only refrained from throwing the pen she was using to sketch on the thinking cloth at him because he was currently cooking her dinner.
…
Christmas Eve Day dawned and saw George leaving to visit his family for the holidays. He accepted the hug she gave him on his way out somewhat less grudgingly than usual.
“Yes, fine. Happy Holidays to you too,” he grumbled half-heartedly, patting her on the back. “It’s always so touchy-feely with you.”
“Oh, shoosh. I know you don’t actually hate it.”
“I will admit nothing of the kind,” he managed to say with a straight face as she pulled away. Then his façade cracked a little and he gave her a cautious smile. “You’re present’s already under the tree. I trust you not to open it until you’re actually supposed to.”
She grinned at him before pulling out her own gift for him and shoving it into his hands. “I make no promises.”
“Ah yes, coal in the stocking for you this year it is then.”
He stumbled as she shoved him playfully. “Rude.”
“Says the woman who nearly knocked me flat on my ass.”
“George,” admonished Lockwood with a roll of his eyes. He handed over his own gift too. “That’s not how you talk to a Lady.”
She stomped on his toe in retaliation for that.
“Ow!”
“You’re being an old man again.”
“Yes Lockwood,” sniggered George as he left. “Because you clearly know how you’re supposed to talk to a girl.”
…
Her and Lockwood spent the day lounging about, playing games and watching cheesy Christmas movies on the tele. It was not the most exciting day she had ever had, but it was the most fun Christmas Eve of her life.
“Do you want to go to a Christmas Eve service?” asked Lockwood latter in the evening.
She startled at the question, having fallen into a doze during their last tv movie.
“Oh, um,” she stuttered, “Why? Do you want to go?”
He gave her a bit of a rueful smile. “Not particularly. I never enjoyed church myself. Especially 400 years ago when it was a requirement. I was always board out of my skull when I went.”
She laughed at him. “Yeah, that I can see. I’m not much of a church-goer myself either,” she admitted. “Mam never seemed to have the time for it – she was always busy working.”
He gazed at her for a long moment. “Did you ever want to go despite her?”
“Not really.”
“Would you like to do something else in the spirit of the season this evening then?” he asked, a close-lipped smile gracing his face.
She eyed him warily now. That was an idea face – always a dangerous thing in Lockwood’s case. “What are you planning?”
“Get your things on, there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. He gave her a small nudge towards the door.
She glanced out the window first, refusing to move. “It’s already getting dark out. Is that a good idea?” she worried.
He gave her a reassuring look. “It’ll be a public place, and I’m not going to abandon you. You’ll be safe.”
In the end, she gave in and went off to pull on her winter things, plus an extra few layers. Whatever she might have told George, this cold snap really was properly chilly, and they would be out in during the time things started to get colder.
…
Lockwood’s idea for an evening’s entertainment turned out to be the walking route of Christmas lights around London. She had heard before about the dazzling lights put on every year. Her own town never managed to scrounge up the funds to try and put on something so extravagant. Most people back there did not even bother putting lights up at all – too expensive, or too much trouble.
They started with Oxford Street’s overhead lights and followed the meandering path through the streets to Covent Garden. The Christmas markets were open late today, and last-minute shoppers were rushing around looking haggard trying to get something before the deadline of Christmas morning. Lockwood and her walked around passively, laughing at the frantic scrambling evident all around them.
They ended their night at Somerset House ice rink. Stupidly, she let Lockwood talk her into renting skates. Of course the posh prat was a veteran skater and glided circles around her laughing while she toddled about with what he dubbed the “stick and push” method. She cursed him profusely for his cheekiness. She would have continued to do so until he helped her get off the damn ice, but then he saved her when she lost her balance. She would have dropped spectacularly in a ball of flailing limbs if he had not been so fast to appear next to her. The experience left her flushed from exertion and flustered. He helped her off the ice after that, and they went home for the night.
“Did you enjoy yourself after all Luce?” he asked quietly once they got in the door.
She paused in peeling off her many layers. “Yeah. I did. Thank you for that. Tonight was the most fun I thin I’ve ever had on a Christmas Eve.”
What followed was another one of those times where she wondered how bright Lockwood’s smiles would be if he was not afraid to show any teeth. “I’m glad.”
Once she was free from her wintery bulk, she breathed him a “Happy Christmas,” and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before dashing away to bed. She lay awake for a long time with her cheeks burning at the thought of what she had done.
Chapter 63
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When she managed to drag herself out of bed the next morning, it was to find the world outside blanketed in a fresh dusting of snow. Large fluffy balls continued to float towards the ground in the manner of feathers drifting on the wind.
“What did you burn this time?” she asked when she made her way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Lockwood was over at the stovetop, spatula in hand and a sheepish expression on his face.
“What? Nothing,” he tried with a thin-lipped smile and shimmering eyes.
“Mm-hm,” she hummed, unconvinced. Her hands landed on her hips as she regarded him sternly. “If it’s nothing, why do you have pancake batter on your face?”
He looked startled for a moment before he grabbed the nearest towel and wiped away the damning evidence. When he saw the irrefutable proof of his crime, he plead guilty. “Please don’t tell George I almost ruined one of his pans,” he begged looking terrified.
She laughed at him, then rescued him from his torment. She was the one who would be eating the pancakes anyway – it was in her best interests to avert this disaster. Lockwood sheepishly handed over the spatula and allowed her to take charge. She did not let him off that easy though, and instead demonstrated the proper way to make pancakes.
There was less cooking that morning than there should have been. It was all on account of Lockwood deciding he must share the shame of getting batter on his face with her. The resulting battle left a fine dusting of flour over the whole kitchen and a single half-cooked pancake stuck to the ceiling over the table.
“You say I’m bad,” chuckled Lockwood in the aftermath. “At least I’ve never gotten the food stuck anywhere I couldn’t reach.”
“No, you just nearly burn the house down by getting it stuck where you can reach,” she shot back, laughing.
She instructed Lockwood to leave the pan to soak in hot soapy water in the sink before they used the excuse of presents to avoid cleaning.
…
Lockwood gave her a complete painting set with everything she could possibly need. The easel doubled as a briefcase for all the supplies. Inside was watercolour paints, brushes, a decent sized palette, a blank pad of special watercolour paper, and a small tin of a special soap for cleaning the brushes and keeping them in good order.
“Lockwood, you shouldn’t have,” she worried when she opened it gift. “This must have been really expensive…”
He waved her off. “Don’t even worry about it, Luce. It wasn’t that much. It was a complete set I got at an art store one day when it was on sale.” He shot her a bright, close-lipped smile.
Deciding there was no point in crying over spilt milk, she enveloped him in a hug and affirmed her thanks for the gift.
George’s gift turned out to be books. Initially, she sighed at seeing them, but when she ventured to open them, that reaction flew out the window. The one about colour theory had plenty of diagrams and pictures to illustrate its concepts and was written in plain, concise English that was easy to follow. It turned out to be kind of fascinating. Her quick scan through revealed it would be a great tool for understanding how to mix any colour she wished, even with a limited palette at hand. The other tome contained summaries of different artists works in a variety of styles. The images were large, glossy, vivid and took up probably 98% of the pages in the book. There was a small blurb about each new artist to explain their lives or sources of inspiration.
She laughed herself silly when she saw George’s gift to Lockwood. He also received books, but his new titles included ‘Cooking Basics for Dummies’ and ‘The “I’m Hungry but I Don’t Want to Burn the House Down While I Cook” Book’. Lockwood only looked a little offended – she could tell he was laughing too, even as he pouted at her reaction.
She fidgeted nervously when it came time for Lockwood to open her gift to him. In her mum’s house, Christmas had never been much of a thing. If her mum had ever done any of the normal things – like gift-giving, or decorating the house – she could not recall. Her and her older sister closest to her in age usually exchanged handmade gifts if they did anything at all. The glossy books and expensive art supplies she got from the boys made her feel self-conscious about keeping to that habit.
Lockwood unwrapped the small package she gave him carefully. The paper came away to reveal a tarnished wooden box she had given a fresh coat of varnish to. The inside was padded and upholstered in faded black satin. Sitting cushioned between the pads was a clay replica she made of the charm Lockwood’s sister had given him as a child – the original for which she still wore around her neck.
She picked up the little padded box at a local second-hand store. It was a lucky find she snapped up in heartbeat, perfect for what she needed. At some point before that she discovered an art supply store in the neighborhood around DSRAC headquarters where she was able to grab a small package of oven-bake clay. She got the idea of making a replica of the charm on her necklace to give back to Lockwood after having the vision of his sister giving him the original.
“Luce,” breathed Lockwood when he saw it, “Did…did you make this yourself?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, hoping he liked it. “I, um…got the idea after I had that vision of when you got the original. I figured if I made a replica out of clay, you’d actually be able to touch it…so I –”
She cut off as he pulled her in for a one-armed hug. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s perfect.”
He released her almost immediately after that. She reeled from the experience. That was the first time he’d been to one to initiate close physical contact like that.
…
Not too much latter, she saw Lockwood suddenly go rigid, then transform into a bird. “Lockwood? What –”
Someone knocked on the front door. She glanced towards the hall, then back to Lockwood. “Do you know who that is?” she asked in a whisper.
He ruffled his feathers by way of a denial, but seemed to shrug too. Another louder knock sounded on the door, followed by the clamouring ring of the doorbell.
When she ventured out to see who it was, she found a kind-faced older lady whose features reminded her of George.
“Hello!” greeted the lady. “Would you happen to be Lucy?”
“Um,” she stuttered, “Why?”
“You’re a very cautious young girl I see,” she commented approvingly. “I’m George’s mother, Olivia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. May I come in?”
“Oh, um, sure.”
She let Olivia into the house and closed the door softly behind her. George’s mother glanced interestedly around the house, taking in all the exotic curios that dotted the walls from Lockwood’s various travels and long history. She led the woman into the sitting room where Lockwood sat on the arm of the chair preening his feathers.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here rather than with my own family on Christmas morning,” began Ms. Karim once they were both seated and she offered out a plate of biscuits. “I don’t mean to take up too much of your time, but George mentioned that you had not gone back to visit with your own family, and well. No one should be alone on Christmas morning.” Olivia smiled kindly at her.
…
Ms. Karim somehow proceeded to verbally corner her against a wall from which she had no choice but to accept her invitation to join her and her family for their Christmas day celebrations. She did not so much as bat an eye at her insistence on bringing along her “friend” in the form of the bird sitting next to her – only smiling indulgently at her.
“Of course, your friend is welcome, so long as he’s well behaved,” agreed Ms. Karim as she ushered her out the door.
She could not help the snort of laughter that escaped her. Lockwood let out an indignant “CAW!” as he flew out behind them.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Karim,” she said, still giggling. “He’s very well behaved.”
Lockwood landed on her shoulder and tickled her behind the ear in retaliation.
“Oh, call me Olivia dear,” enthused Ms. Karim. “I can’t stand formality from such a good friend of George’s.”
George was startled upon their return to the Karim household. “Mother?” he questioned, a note of betrayal in his voice. “You told me there was something crucial you needed to go out and get before we could start on making dinner!”
“Oh, George,” she admonished playfully, “There was! I simply had to invite your friend and housemate over for Christmas dinner. Your patron wasn’t there, and being alone on Christmas day simply won’t do for anyone!”
Despite George’s grumbling about being blindsided, the day was fun. The Karim family was welcoming and pleasant to be around. If George’s sister got any ideas about the two of them, she seemed to keep them to herself and did not try locking her in the cupboard alone with him.
The day would have been nicer still if Lockwood was not forced to hide as a bird the whole time, but he still seemed to enjoy himself. At one point, when the families playful bickering turned rowdier, he even amused them all with performing arial tricks in the air. George only rolled his eyes, but she clapped and laughed along with the other members of the family.
Olivia drove her back home at the end of the night. Once Lockwood had a chance to transform into a human again, she asked him if he enjoyed himself despite being forced to hide the whole time.
He shrugged off her concern. “Don’t worry about it, Luce. As long as you and George had fun, that’s all I need.”
…
George returned home late the next day leaden with the gifts from his family. He ambushed her almost as soon as he got back. “How did you make this folded paper puzzle box?” he demanded. “I wanted to take it apart and see how it worked, but I couldn’t find a lose end and I didn’t want to ruin it.”
It was the most roundabout way of saying that the liked her gift. She was not certain how well it would go over, but she had not been able to think of anything else to get him and had all but run out of time. She hid a note that thanked him for everything he had done for her inside, knowing full well he would eventually find it and read it.
“You liked it?” she asked worriedly.
His glasses flashed as he regarded her. “Yes, I liked it very much. It was fun trying to figure out how to open it without tearing the paper.”
Feeling relieved, she did not hesitate to pull out more pieces of paper and show him the process of making one. He tried his hand it himself once she did. The results were somewhat questionable – his folds were not crisp enough to align properly for the latter stage, and his paper box would neither close nor open properly.
Lockwood poked his head in at some point to see what they were up to. He proceeded to try making one himself before she fully finished demonstrating all the steps. George may have been frustrated that he could not get his boxes to be as crisp as hers; Lockwood could not understand why his box never turned out to be an actual box.
“Mate,” sighed George from across the coffee table where they had set up shop. They sat on the floor with their efforts laid out in front of them. “If you actually want to make a box like the one Lucy’s got, maybe you should wait for her to show you all the steps first, before you go ahead and do it.”
It did not take too much longer for Lockwood to give up and resort to making the most basic paper airplane in existence. He may have thrown it at George when his head was bent over his latest attempt at the box. It also may not have hit George at all because its aerodynamics were so terrible.
Just to prove a point, she made a paper airplane that did not require tape or a glue stick to hold together and launched it through the door out into the hall. It flew gracefully, straight and true.
Lockwood gave her a wounded look. “That’s cheating.”
“No. It’s skill,” cut in George with a snigger.
Lockwood invited him to sword practice after that.
Notes:
Anyone ever heard the phrase "the calm before the storm"?
😏🫢
*cackles*
Chapter 64
Notes:
Well now. Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting!
PS: I'm literally moving provinces tomorrow, and then I have to buckle down and find a job once I get to the new place, so updates might be more unpredictable going forward. 🫤
Chapter Text
It was not until a few days after the Christmas break that George brought up Ightham Court and the Fites estate again. “I really need a crack at the information they’ve got there Lockwood,” he said as he presented his argument. “Magic is trying to tell Lucy something about Sir Rupert Gale, and it’s important we figure out what it is. I wrote out a list of all the things I need to look up. If you won’t let me go, at least take this with you so you know what to bring back.”
She left them and hid in her room to experiment with her new art supplies. The boys could hash out the details on their own with no input from her. It was maybe a half hour latter when Lockwood knocked on her door.
“Yeah?” she called out in answer.
Lockwood came through then and walked up the last few stairs to her space before giving her a thin-lipped smile. “I wanted to let you know. George and I came to an agreement. I’ll be leaving for Ightham Court on Saturday morning. I’ll be gone for five days – George wouldn’t agree to anything less.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment in thought. “Is it really safe for you to go there?” she asked softly.
“I’ll be fine Luce,” he reassured immediately.
“But you said the vampire who turned you could still be around for all you know. Won’t it be dangerous if they notice you?”
“I know how to pass unnoticed,” he placated. “And I have a significant advantage over magicals trying to keep to the shadows – I can smell when vampires or their servants are around. It’s a lot harder for them to watch me without me noticing than it is for normal people.”
“Will you promise me you’ll stay safe?”
“Of course,” she said immediately. “So long as you promise the same.”
She accepted his terms, and made him the same promise.
…
With the roadblocks in the way of his research into her visions and what they could mean, George switched focus.
“You didn’t like how that trance state the healer put you in made you feel, did you?” he asked the next night during supper.
“Hmm? Oh. No, it made me feel sluggish and slow.”
He nodded in understanding. “I took the liberty of looking into visions and how magicals have dealt with them in the past. We can try some of the things I’ve found and see if they let you experience your visions in a way that doesn’t have such an intense effect on you, or require us to entrance you like that again.”
“That’s a good idea,” commented Lockwood at the suggestion. “Actively instigating the visions will help a lot with making them easier for you to handle, Luce.”
“Yeah. Alright.”
She did not really want to engage any more than she had to with her visions. But there was no doubt that she needed to do something to make them more bearable. As it stood, they left her reeling for hours.
…
The week progressed without anything of real note happening. Bobby seemed to have taken her comments about his research – and the places where it lacked – as a personal insult. He was still being short with her, something that Kat had taken to scolding him like a school principal for. It was as funny as it was terrifying.
“Stop antagonizing the curse-breaker,” snapped Kat when he made another comment right before they were about to work on the next relic. “There can be no intense emotion in the room with an active relic of black magic. Your attitude is endangering both you and everyone else here.”
Bobby was not happy, but he shut up for the rest of the day. He left almost before they were finished, causing both Kipps and Kat to frown at his back.
“I should report him to Barnes,” growled Kipps. “He’s being a pain. I read over your old reports myself, Lucy, and you were not wrong to call him out on incomplete research. He shouldn’t start trying to make trouble just because his prides been hurt.”
“If he keeps going like this, you should,” offered Kat as she went through the process of making the unenchanted relic ready for disposal.
“I’ll try talking to him first,” sighed Kipps. He rubbed his hand tiredly on his face. His bruises were mostly gone now, but his nose was still not completely healed. He kept forgetting, and winced as he rubbed the sore spot.
“If he wants me to say sorry, he’s got another thing coming,” she warned. “I’m not apologizing for being right.”
“You don’t have to,” stated Kat with her usual scowl firmly in place.
It was really hard to tell if Kat was mad – she always seemed to sport the same expression, no matter what she was feeling. But there was a bite to her words today that told her she might actually be annoyed with Bobby’s attitude too.
…
She did not know what she expected, but when Sunday came, she was surprised when she ran into Lockwood on the way downstairs to the kitchen.
“Luce,” he greeted with a close-lipped smile. This one was somewhat less brilliant than usual. “I’m heading out now.”
“Ok,” she answered, yawning. “Be safe?”
He stopped her from going any further by grabbing her elbow. Her questioning look was met with his intense eyes boring into her. “Promise me you’ll stay safe – that you won’t go anywhere or try anything unusual while I’m gone?”
“I’m not promising to hide in the house the whole time.”
His smile became a little brighter. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Just don’t take any unnecessary risks; please, for my sanity.”
“I promise,” she said after a second. She stole a hug before wishing him luck and continuing on to the kitchen.
…
George and her worked that whole weekend on a plan of action for figuring out Lockwood’s cure.
“Did you ever notice any magic lingering around Lockwood when Flo had you doing those scavenger hunts in the house?” asked George.
“No,” she answered. “I had to figure out how to tune out all the runes – they were really distracting when I first started – but I figured it out. I never noticed anything around Lockwood though.”
George frowned in thought. “That’s…as much of a point for the idea that vampires were originally created using magic as it is a strike against it.”
She gave him a bewildered look. “…I don’t follow.”
“Think about it,” he enthused, “We know a magical somehow restored Lockwood’s soul to him. Either vampirism is the enchantment, or the cure is. You should be able to sense at least something. Either a curse or a cure would have to be a very powerful enchantment to last so long after the magical’s death.”
“Do all enchantments break when their original castor dies?” she asked, thinking. “It can’t be that. Some of the relics I’ve broken enchantments on were hundreds of years old…”
“Runes are the only certain way for ensuring an enchantment outlasts it’s castor,” answered George. “If you care to take a look, there should be runes carved, etched, or otherwise incorporated into the designs of every single relic you work on at DSRAC.”
She furrowed her brow as she tried to think back over all the relics she had worked on with her team. “…yeah…your right. They all had runes of some kind on them.”
“Lodestone magicals like you Lucy are the only ones who can charge a person or object so they channel magical energy on their own to fuel spells even after the castors death.” He pinched his glasses before cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. “Everyone else has to use runes.”
She shot him a questioning look, so he moved to explain. “The term ‘lodestone’ comes from naturally occurring magnetically charged stones. It’s sometimes possible to use them to magnetize other metal objects for a time. ‘Lodestone’ magicals get their name from being able to do much the same, only with magic.”
She considered the implications of this for a long time. “You think it was a lodestone magical who first made vampires?” she asked quietly.
“Maybe,” hedge George. “I can’t be sure. If it was, I can’t understand how they are able to propagate the way they do. A lodestone magical who enchanted a person and charged them with magic would not account for how vampire blood can be used to create new vampires. We know there is a special protein in vampire blood that nobody else has. I don’t know how that would work if vampirism was solely the result of a lodestone magical’s enchantment.”
…
Monday morning dawned pale, boring and cold. She surprised herself with how much she missed her morning plate of slightly-burned toast and ready-made cup of sugary tea. George was too busy getting himself ready for the day to think of making her a cup ready for when she came down. His toast was wrong too, but only because it was perfectly golden brown and not nearly crunchy enough.
That had to be what was making her feel hollow – the lack of crunchy toast and hot tea.
As the day progressed, she realized that the hollow feeling was not going away. And it was not because Lockwood was not around. She did not feel particularly threatened, as she could remember feeling when first moving to London. But there was something niggling at the back of her mind saying something was wrong.
She hoped Lockwood had kept to his promise of being careful.
…
The hollow feeling was not about Lockwood being gone. She felt it even while at home – which was his claimed territory and therefore off-limits to other vampires by some instinctive law or whatever. She had slept in the house before while she knew he was somewhere else without feeling like she did now.
“Do you think someone is watching you?” asked George at breakfast when she admitted to the unexplained sensations.
She scrunched her face unhappily. “I…don’t think so,” she mused. “I know what it feels like when my magic is telling me someone is following me. This isn’t the same.”
George tapped his fingers on the table while he watched her. “I’ll see if I can get Flo to have a look around at some point today. She might be able to find something we’re missing. In the meantime, you should be careful. Don’t leave DSRAC today once you get there and wait for me before taking a cab home from work. Safety in numbers.”
…
The relic in the open ward box in front of her was maybe two steps worse than trickster magic. It sounded like hordes of men screaming battle cries amongst the clashing of weapons and armour. It hid you from sight if you kept greed in your heart and were willing to answer to the magical who made it. He was the leader of the band of renegades that prowled the road from London to Bristol, attacking travelers and stealing anything of value.
The relic itself was not that bad – it was not enchanted to cause death or torture to anyone, which made for a nice change. But the relic remembered the people it deemed unworthy, and what had happened to them.
She easily crushed its source of power, feeling the pressure in the room release as the black magic was destroyed. Kat busied herself with disposal. Bobby had his nose buried in his notes for the next relic. Kipps stood and made his way over to drag her off to the side for a check-up. And then the hollow feeling that started yesterday rose to a tingling in her magic. Static sounded in the back of her mind, and she knew what was going to happen before it even began.
…
“Forgive me My Lord,” simpered a voice she remembered hearing at the auction. “I failed to retrieve the magical’s lure.”
“Spare me your groveling Joshua,” snapped another voice she did not recognize. “You say DSRAC interrupted the auction. If you brought them to my doorstep, no amount of pretty words will spare you my wrath.”
The nervous shifting of several people sounded through the room. “No My Lord, of course not, My Lord,”
“I have other more pressing concerns at the moment,” continued the second voice. “I am at least appeased that none of my competitors managed to get their hands on the item either.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” gasped the first man sounding infinitely relieved.
“You carry a strange scent on you, Joshua,” mused the second voice dangerously, “And one that is faintly familiar to me. Explain yourself.”
“My Lord, there was one other that sought to outbid yourself for the item,” answered the auction man immediately. “I know not who sent them. But in the chaos of our retreat, I noticed them drop something. I have it here, My Lord.”
The clinking as if of glass sounded. “Well now,” mused the second voice, “That is interesting.”
She gasped awake to the sound of Kipps barking orders over her head. Fuzzy shapes flitted about her field of vision as she panted, trying to regain control of her breathing. Her magic sizzled in her veins, unsettled.
Chapter 65
Notes:
Ah, NOW we're getting somewhere! ( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧
Chapter Text
It did not matter what she told Kipps, he still forced her to the clinic to be checked over by Dr. Bowman.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” she grumbled as she was unceremoniously dumped onto a gurney and wheeled there. Kat nearly tackled her when she tried to walk to the clinic under her own power.
“And I still don’t care,” shot back Kipps without breaking stride from dragging the gurney along behind him.
She was vindicated when Bowman pronounced her in perfect health, if a little lower energy than normal. “But that’s nothing to be concerned about. You expend a lot of energy while you’re curse-breaking dearie,” he assured. “Your visions, while intense, are not causing you any harm.”
News of the fiasco went far enough to reach Barnes. He showed up before Bowman was even fully finished checking her over, Wade as ever hovering at his shoulder, and demanded to know what had happened.
“We were just finishing cleanup after a relic when it happened,” explained Kipps. “Lucy managed to break the enchantment and Kat was getting the object ready for disposal.”
“There was no active black magic in the room when Miss Carlyle collapsed then?” barked Barnes.
“No Sir, there was not,” answered Kat from her place beside Kipps.
Despite her not having suffered any lasting damage, Kipps declared curse-breaking finished for the day. Bowman said it was not necessary, but highly recommended. All chance of argument was blown out the window when Barnes loaned his authority to the debate. They were done.
She was surprised when she did not see George at any point during the entire thing – everyone else had shown up. Once Bowman let her out, she wandered down to the archives to find him and maybe help with research. It was not the most riveting afternoon plan, but at least it was something to do. When she got there, the librarian told her that George was not in – she did not know where he had gone. He mentioned heading out to see Flo and ask her to keep an eye out that morning, so she assumed that was where he had gone, and that he would be back before too long.
An hour before sunset, she started to get worried. George had still not showed up. She sat in the lobby waiting for him, so it was not like she just missed him somewhere else in the building. The front doors were the only public entrance, and George was not a high-ranking officer in DSRAC who would have a code for using the one that led to the garage to get in.
There was a certain sense of wrong in her gut that would not go away. It was not getting worse, thank god, but it was also not getting better. Just when she was really starting to get worried, thinking she should knock on Barnes’ door and get the hounds out searching, he walked in.
“Oh, Lucy! Hey, sorry if you were waiting for a while. I got hung up with something with Flo when I went to see her. Are you ready to go home now?” he asked when he noticed her sitting there waiting for him.
Her gut still felt wrong, but she sighed in relief at seeing him alright. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”
She relayed to him everything that had happened during his absence on the car ride back home. For some reason, he seemed less laser-focused than usual. He still took 7000 notes on her vision when she described it, so she shook herself off and put it out of her mind.
“I think I recognized one of voices in this vision from when Lockwood and I went to the auction,” she worried. “He was the hoity one that got all snippy when the Winkman’s took so long bringing out the star of the show. The other voice must have been the vampire he servs.”
George sat poring over his notes and did not appear to be listening to her. “Hmm?” he startled, “Oh, yes. That would make the most sense.”
“I think they found the vial of Lockwood’s venom I dropped,” she whispered so their driver would not hear. “The other person speaking seemed really interested in it. What should we do?”
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” offered George without looking at her, too consumed in his notes. “A vampire servant carrying a vial of venom isn’t all that strange. There’s actually a highly addictive drug you can synthesize from it that causes intense sensations of euphoria. Some vampires deliberately get their servants addicted to it as a means of control.”
She scrunched her face up unhappily. “That’s awful! Won’t it be bad if they think Lockwood’s doing that?”
“Not really. It’s better they think that than them figuring out what he really does.”
…
Wednesday came and went without any incidents. It was her mandated rest day as a designated DSRAC curse-breaker, so she elected to stay home. The strange hollow feeling still permeated her every moment. She thought staying in would at least lessen it, but that did not turn out to be the case.
George came home after work and was particularly focused on figuring out Lockwood’s cure. She expected him to want to work more on trying to get a handle on her visions, but this was a more welcome pursuit.
“I think that’s all we can do for now,” declared George after several hours of blind trial and error. “We have to wait for Lockwood to get back to really see if any of this is really on the right track or not. Let’s throw in the towel for now, and go have something for supper.”
She happily agreed to the plan, famished as she was. It felt good to have something they could do for Lockwood when he got back tomorrow. “Sounds good to me.”
Still the hollow feeling in her chest did not abate. If anything, it had gotten more pronounced during the evening.
…
“I’m not telling you anything,” growled George.
A cruel laughter responded. Several other voices tittered their parroted amusement.
“No, I suppose you won’t,” mused a cruel voice. It sounded just like the supposed vampire from her last vision. “But there are ways of making you do as I wish, regardless.”
“Yeah, because that’d work out well for you. I’d lose everything about myself you’d actually need,” snarked George, unperturbed.
“Oh really? You sound very sure of that.”
“What, and you’re not? I was under the impression you were smarter than that. You’re too old to be stupid.”
A surprised sort of laughter started, before cutting off abruptly.
“I find your snark trying human,” hissed the vampire. “I am not amused by it. Perhaps I should show you what a real vampire is capable of.”
“What are you –”
“HOLD HIM!”
Sounds of a struggle rang out. A smaller individual fighting against larger bodies holding them against their will.
“Open up!” sang the vampire sinisterly. “What’s the matter? Too young to want to take your medicine?”
Gagging sounds. The distressed gurgling of someone being forced to swallow something they did not want to, or die choking for their trouble.
“I hope you enjoy the experience.”
An inhuman snarl. A muffled yell of terror.
She flew out of bed, crashing onto the ground with a scream of her own. Before she even had a chance to register where she was, she was tearing off down the stairs.
“Lucy! What –”
She barrelled past Lockwood, almost without seeing him, intent on only one thing. George was in the process of cooking bacon when she came crashing through the door to the kitchen. He startled so hard that he almost burned himself on the grease.
“GEORGE!” she screeched, still reeling and terrified as she crashed into him.
She all but fell onto him in relief, crushing him in a massive bear hug that placed her ear right over his heart. She started sobbing uncontrollably in relief when she heard it still beating rhythmically in his chest.
“Um…Lucy…can’t breath…” he gasped.
She eased her hold only enough to stop restricting his lungs, but remains latched onto him crying. “I thought they’d turned you!” she sobbed. “Oh my god, I thought they’d turned you…”
Chapter 66
Notes:
Ummm...We're going to start this one off with a warning - this went REAL dark for a hot minute, and just went kinda gruesome. I want you guys to know that before you read something you didn't want to see.
PS. I'm thinking I might need to upgrade the rating to mature here, but I don't actually describe what's going on, I kind of state it and move on, so I'm not sure. Let me know in the comments if you think this deserves the mature rating over teen.🫤
Chapter Text
Lockwood ended up needing to peel her off of George. She clung to his still-warm body, listened to his beating heart, all to reassure herself that her vision had not already happened – that George had not suffered like that.
George had absolutely no idea what to do with a girl crying all over his shirt, frantic and scared. He resorted to extricating a hand from where she was pinning them to his sides and patted her on the back. Lockwood was not able to rescue him from her grip for a solid 20 minutes during which it was only sheer luck they did not start a grease fire from neglecting the bacon in the pan.
Lockwood led her to her usual spot at the table and wrapped her in a soft wool blanket while pressing a steaming cup of tea into her hands. “Lucy,” he rumbled, “What happened?” He kept his steady hand on her shoulder and kneeled down to be on her level as he asked.
She hiccoughed as she tried to push away the instinctive terror still clinging to her. “I had a vision. It was…I heard…I thought a vampire had turned George!” she wailed.
Both boys paused as they shot each other startled looks.
“Luce,” soothed Lockwood. “It’s alright.”
“No!” she screeched, “It’s not! I heard it! I know what happened!” She bit her lip and tried not to dissolve into tears again.
“Lucy,” called George. Her eyes snapped to him even as Lockwood moved to take her hand in his while giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked calmly.
She did. Her heart rate started to calm while she talked. But that hollow feeling was there still – more pronounced than ever before.
“I know all your visions to this point have been of events that have already happened,” placated George when she was finished. “But Lucy, you’re a seventh-seventh magical. Magicals with your heritage are well know for having seer abilities – in other words, the ability to see into the future. That you had this vision does not categorically mean it’s something that has already happened. It could merely be something that could happen.”
“I would be able to tell if someone had turned George,” added Lockwood, giving her shoulder another squeeze. “If by some miracle George became a Covenist instead of a Rampager, he wouldn’t be able to keep it from me. Quite apart from his scent completely changing, he would not have a heartbeat any more. Luce, George is still here. It’s alright.”
“But I know what I heard –”
“Luce,” rumbled Lockwood, cutting her off softly. “No one is contesting that. We both believe you. But George isn’t a vampire right now – I would know. And prophecies of the future are treacherous at the best of times. They are only ever possibilities – sometimes very slim ones too. Many prophecies never come true at all.”
…
Despite the reassurances of both the boys, she could not shake her anxiousness. George left to call DSRAC headquarters and tell them she would not be coming in today. Her strung out nerves would not make for a very safe day curse-breaking.
“Lockwood,” she called when George left the room. “You have to keep him safe. We can’t…he has to…”
Lockwood pulled her in towards him. “It’s alright Luce,” he soothed, “I’ll look after him. I’ll look after you both. You’ve given us forewarning now, and that will make all the difference. I remember the scent marking of the person from the auction you mentioned was also in your vision. I know who it is I need to watch out for. It’ll be ok.”
Though she knew Lockwood would never let anything happen if he was there to stop it, something inside of her still would not calm down. She could not bring herself to participate in any meaningful way when the boys started talking about what Lockwood had found at the Fites estate.
“It’s frustrating that you couldn’t find any primary references about Sir Rupert,” grumbled George. “That’s not usual – the primary reference should have been there somewhere.”
“I was at least able to get you the name of the primary reference,” placated Lockwood. “All the things I looked up used the same one – it just wasn’t in the records hall or the library of the estate.”
“It should have been though. Sir Rupert is an important part of the Fites story – anything about him should be included in the repertoire of resources they keep there. That it wasn’t means someone must have taken it out. I don’t know who would have had the access, or the authority to do that without anyone any the wiser.” George frowned at the notes Lockwood handed him, clearly deep in thought.
…
She crushed George in a hug before allowing him to leave the house to go to work. Only once she managed to extract a promise that he would be careful did she let him go. Lockwood transformed and left to tail him. “Just in case,” he said before he shifted.
The hollow feeling in her chest was less intense now, but it was still there. She sort of hoped that Lockwood’s return would make it go away. It seemed she would be having no such luck.
…
“My Lord,” simpered the uncouth man from the auction. “We have word – the Marylebone-day-walker has returned.”
“Good,” answered the vampire. “Then our new ally should have news for us soon.”
…
She had no idea how George’s mind worked. He had been so set on getting out to the Ightham Court and finding what there was to discover on Sir Rupert Gale. All of a sudden, he seemed to have lost all interest in furthering the research. It made her nervous.
Lockwood would not say who he thought the vampire from her vision was – but he clearly knew. “I’ve been watching Luce,” he pacified when she got antsy about it. “No one with any connection to vampires has gone near George.”
It did not matter how many times he said it, she still did not believe it. It was the strangest feeling; Lockwood would not lie about there being no reason for concern. He did not think there was. She disagreed. But she did not know why
George’s latest obsession seemed to be Lockwood’s cure. His new-found single-minded determination about it surprised both her and Lockwood. Everything else seemed to fall by the wayside in pursuit of it in a way they had not before.
“We both owe you this help for all the things you’ve done for us,” declared George when the topic came up in conversation over breakfast.
“You don’t owe me for anything George,” sighed Lockwood.
George just shook his head, unconvinced. “I’ll let us agree to disagree on that,” he said.
…
The next Monday when she went in to work, she found her team discussing the relic they were supposed to break the enchantment on.
“It’s a really nasty blood-magic relic,” commented Bobby with a faintly green look. “It was used by a coven of vampires from 150 years ago to torture and kill a magical that offended them somehow. I’m not sure – the accounts weren’t very clear, but I think they may have forced him to make it himself before they used it.”
She grimaced at the news. She had been curse-breaking long enough to know that the relics enchanted under duress with dark magic were a lot more potent and aggressive.
“We’ll all need to stay on our toes then,” commanded Kipps. “Duress blood magic is nothing to sneeze at.”
Murmurs of agreement went around the group. “I think Bobby should sit this one out,” stated Kat in her expressionless voice. “He doesn’t have any magic to let him know if he’s being attacked.”
“I can stay! You don’t need to bench me. Kipps! Don’t bench me!” whined Bobby at the suggestion.
“Sorry Bobby,” consoled Kipps. “I think Kat’s right – you should sit this one out. I’m responsible for the safety of all of you, not just Lucy here; so it’s my say.”
Bobby conceded defeat, though not without any grumbling about it. He dumped his folders of research on the relics for today on the table off to the side of the room and left in a bit of a huff. “I’m coming back in an hour. If you’re not done by then, I’m not leaving again,” he said stubbornly.
She did not say anything, but she did roll her eyes at his petulance when her back was turned. Kipps scowled at Bobby’s back as he marched away. “I really need to report him. He’s been a pain for more than a week now.”
“Yes Kipps. You should,” stated Kat. She busied herself with prepping the warding box of the relic and did not notice her cover her face with her hands to muffle the sound of her amused snort.
…
Bones shattered. Flesh rent apart. Veins spilled their lifeblood. She tried not to gag as the sounds assaulted her. This relic was bad. It was angry, and vengeful, and murderous. Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind. She blasted the noises with heat and light drawn out from her core, surrounded herself in all the things that black magic – and blood magic especially – hated. The noises battered against her defences with beating, angry fists. It snarled at her through the barriers she had put up, rabid and merciless. People screamed as their nails were ripped off. Blood gushed from open wounds.
The worst part of this magic was that it was flighty. She had tried now 12 times to isolate a portion of it so she could pry at it’s secrets and break the enchantment. But each and every time the tendrils reaching for her managed to evade her efforts. She doubled down on herself, steam hissing as it billowed around her in an impenetrable shroud, and waited. Slimy tentacles dripping in spilled blood reached for her, gurgling as they chocked. She struck. A tiny sliver broke free before trying to dig itself under her nails. High pitched screams of agony filled her mind. She pushed out more steam and hot, high winds to beat it back, and she pried off the mask the magic wore.
Suffering. Anger. Pain. Vengeance. Torture. Oh god, all that pain. But something was wrong – this was not duress. The magical who created the relic had known exactly what she was doing. Had wanted to do it. She was angry, furious. Those monsters had killed her children – too young to really know of the things that lurked in the night. Just old enough to begin ignoring the warnings she had always given them. And there were people – ordinary people – that had helped them. They could be anyone, her friends or neighbors. Her children were dead, and it was their fault, and she wanted them to pay.
So she made them pay. She lured away the one who lured her children to their deaths, and then killed them. She thrusted a rusty kitchen knife through their hand, both to cause them pain and to pin them in place. The other hand followed. And then she carved into their flesh. 100 cuts. All avoiding major arteries or organs. They slowly bled to death in agony, and she mopped it all up – every last drop.
She wrung out the cloth over the heated metal, sweat on her brow and vengeance in her heart as she did her best to melt the chosen objects – a broach her daughter had loved, an armlet her son had worn. The blood of the person who had lured them to their deaths.
She had heard that silver could ward off the evil of these creatures of the night. What she found was that it did more than that – it burned them. Every last possession she had, she bartered away in exchange for silver. Everything. She used it to trap those monsters – to weaken them. It only seemed to make them more aggressive. But that was alright – she already had her weapon at hand.
She starved the first one to death. She did not know how it worked, but the silver net she trapped them in sizzled like grease in a hot pan. Its skin was blistered and raw everywhere the silver touched; even some places it could not touch directly. The more it burned, the more it snarled and fought – the more the silver restrained them. It took a month before the thing burst into acrid dust. By then she had already found another target.
There was a whole community of the things in her town – she would eradicate them all. Her children’s memory would help her trap and hold them. Help her punish them. Some she allowed her relic to tear apart, piece by piece. The separated pieces would die, but the body never did until the heart was destroyed. Some she caged in silver and starved until they exploded to dust. She loved watching those – they suffered the longest. Some she restrained and opened up – to see if they were any different from the human bodies they seemed to posses. They weren’t. Every organ inside their chests was the same as a human – most of them just sat dormant, not doing anything. She liked listening to them curse and snarl as her relic opened them up, wide awake, for her to peek inside. She always avoided the heart when she did that – so they wouldn’t die on her before she was finished.
She screamed as a spike of ice-cold vengeance burrowed through the skin of her shoulder, trying to crack bone and freeze arteries solid along the way. Her barrier of hissing steam was more like pounding freezing rain at the tail end of the winter – the kind of cold that seeped into your very bones and made you feel like you would never be warm again.
She kept screaming as the sensations persisted. Then outside heat pushed at her. It grabbed hold of the spear freezing her insides and wrenched it out. She shrieked in her agony, eyelids finally fluttering open a little. And then she rolled over and vomited all over the floor.
A cool sense of vengeance stuck in the room kept its place at the back of her mind. Of magic, its purpose corrupted by one person’s anger and pain. She crushed the source of the feeling without even thinking about it. Magic thanked her, and the world disappeared.
Chapter 67
Notes:
Deep breaths guys, we're ok! We've got another hospital stint, but still, mostly fine 😁
Chapter Text
She woke to the beeping of a heart monitor. Bright lights blinded her when she tried to open her eyes. She winced in the glare, letting out a wheezing groan before squeezing them shut again.
“Easy dearie,” called a voice she recognized as Dr. Bowman. “We’ve got you. It’s alright. Can you open your eyes for me Lucy?”
“…Hurts…too bright…” she panted.
“Slowly, Miss Carlyle,” encouraged Dr. Bowman. “Give yourself time to adjust.”
Her breathing was heavy and scared as she cracked her lids open by a tiny fraction. Bowman coaching her through trying to fully open them. While she was busy with that, she noticed something else.
“Doctor,” she called in a thready voice. “…I can’t…I can’t feel my arm! Why can’t I –”
“I assure you Miss Carlyle,” cut in Bowman before she had time to work herself into even more of a frenzy. “You will be fine. The numbness and lack of sensation you’re experiencing will fade completely in a few days. Can you try to clench your hand for me?”
A numb kind of cold radiated from her left shoulder; she was scared to move it. It seemed as if it had fallen asleep. Any movement would set off that dreaded cascade of needles running down her arm as it tried to come back to life.
“I need to see if you’ve lost any motor control, Miss Carlyle,” explained Bowman kindly. “Please, will you try clenching your hand for me?”
Though she little wanted to, she did as told. The pins-and-needles sensation she expected did not come; neither did her hand sit there like a bump on a log, unmoving. Her fingers curled and clenched as normal. Bowman directed her to try rolling her wrist and move her arm. All the muscles responded. That was when she realized it was not her muscles that felt numb – it was her magic.
She remembered a spear of cloying coldness burrowing through her skin. She remembered a lonely, grieving mother who lost her children to vampires. She remembered vengeance, and the vampires that suffered for it.
She needed to see Lockwood. She had to know he was ok. She had to see for herself he was not one of the vampires that woman had tortured. Oh god, but that woman had tortured them. No one deserved that!
Her heart rate was spiking. Her magic crackled with electricity in her veins. She sucked in a startled breath as it did. The numb veinous magic in her arm exploded into agony, and she cried out.
A couple nurses in crisp grey scrubs with DSRAC badges clipped to the pocket emerged from somewhere and helped Dr. Bowman keep her from moving. The pain was not going away now that it had started. A mask was fitted over her face by one of the nurses, Bowman giving orders in an urgent voice. The world faded out again.
…
When she finally came too, there were bandages wrapped around her shoulder. It felt like sensors covered her from head to toe. A display screen on one side showed her vitals, another on her other side showed a readout of what had to be her magic. The latter seemed to be all over the place. That probably accounted for the sloshing feeling in her magic. She had an IV in her arm, and a nasal cannula wrapped around her head to help her breathe.
She still could not feel the veinous magic in her arm. It felt numb without feeling frozen. She had become a solid block of sea ice, the veinous magic in that one arm was the salty brine trapped within it; not actually part of the ice, just an extra ingredient that will drain away completely with time. The thought of that sent spikes of anxiety through her. What would it mean if magic was permanently drained from just that one arm? How would it affect her?
Before she spiralled too far down that path, the door to her room opened. George walked in looking wane and tired. He wore thin cotton gloves on his hands – the kind archivists use to handle delicate artifacts without getting their finger oils all over them. Lockwood flew through like a shot in his bird form and landed squarely next to her on the bed the second the door was open wide enough to admit him.
“Lucy!” called George, sounding infinitely relieved. “You’re awake! Dr. Bowman only just cleared you for visitors. I’m sorry we couldn’t be here for when you before. How are you feeling?”
She did not register his words – too preoccupied with something else. Upon seeing Lockwood fly into the room, she remembered what that awful woman had done to those vampires. She chocked on her emotions, tears springing to her eyes. Lockwood was already shuffling closer to her, having picked up on her distress as easily as the monitor to her bedside. She grabbed him and dragged him closer, clinging to him like a child’s teddy bear. He squawked in surprise when she did. If it was supposed to be some form of protest, she completely ignored it. She curled inwards, clutching him to her chest before dissolving into ugly sobs.
“What – Lucy?” startled George at the movement. “Are you in pain?”
A vigorous shake of her head. Lockwood tapped on the underside of her chin where she was pressing it to his head. Her only response was to squeeze him tighter.
“Lucy, we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Talk to us,” offered George.
Lockwood managed to free a wing from her grasp and was using it to sweep his soft feathers gently up and down her arm.
She hiccoughed, trying to stem her own crying.
“CAW?”
“Lucy? I’m going to get the Doctor. Just stay calm, alright?” said George as he made to leave.
“Bobby was wrong,” she whispered.
Lockwood pulled back far enough that he could gaze at her with his beady eyes. She squeezed him a little tighter. He continued to sweep his soft feathers over her skin. There was just enough force behind the gesture that it was calming instead of tickling.
George stopped before he got more than two paces. “What?” he asked.
“It wasn’t duress magic,” she whispered. “And the vampires didn’t make her make it. She made it to punish them. A vampire killed her children.”
Lockwood gazed at her with glittering, unblinking eyes. A dark look passed over George’s face. “I see. I need to speak to Barnes. Lucy, will you be ok if I leave you with just Lockwood?”
He did not wait for her to answer, instead marching off, presumably to yell at Barnes that Bobby Vernon was a terrible researcher whose shoddy work had endangered their best curse-breaker.
Lockwood could not have escaped her clutches if he tried. He did not seem to be interested. She calmed herself with the knowledge that he was here, he was safe, and that awful woman had never done anything to hurt him.
…
“M…My Lord?” stammered a cowering man, bowed to the floor in supplication.
“What is it Joshua?” snapped the vampire standing over him.
“We…have received word from our ally. The…the magical was injured – apparently attacked by blood magic…”
“Hmm. This is bad news you bring me, Joshua. You know how I hate bad news.”
“Forgive me, My Lord!”
“Enough of your grovelling! You pathetic excuse for a human. The girl is a curse-breaker for DSRAC, is she not? It was never too far outside of the realm of possibility for such a setback to occur.”
“Yes, My Lord. Of course, My Lord.”
The vampire released a put-upon sigh. “Instruct our ally to wait – if we are to do this, we will likely need the girl’s power. She cannot be in ill-health when we strike, or all could be lost. If we fail to get rid of that toothless Rampager, we will no doubt have to contend with DSRAC before too long. We must play it safe. My sources say he is already watching for us.”
Chapter 68
Notes:
We've got a bit of slow down going on here, so I guess everyone can take a bit of breather while Lucy recovers. Then we can start to have the real fun! (¬‿¬)
Chapter Text
“Lucy Carlyle?” called the nurse that walked into the room some time after George left her alone with Lockwood. She was tall, pretty, and looked infinitely well-put together. “My name’s Nuse Holly. Dr. Bowman’s prescribed you an enchanted cream for your shoulder to help it heal. I’m here to help you –”
The nurse trailed off upon spotting Lockwood. A bewildered look crossed her face and she opened her mouth uncertainly, as if to question his presence or demand his removal. She clutched him a little tighter to her side.
Lockwood cast his glittering eyes towards her for a long moment before sweeping his wing over her skin comfortingly once again. Bowman bustled in behind the nurse before anything else could happen.
“Ah! Nurse Holly, you’re already here. Good, good,” chirped the doctor as he swept forwards wielding his clipboard. “Miss Carlyle’s only just woken, so I haven’t yet had a chance to go over her condition and treatments with her. Would you mind holding off for say, 10 minutes while I have a chat with her?”
Nurse Holly was staring at Bowman as if he had grown a second head. “Doctor, where did that bird come from? Should it be really be here?” she asked. Her tone sounded exasperated in a familiar sort of way.
Bowman looked confused for a second – he was preoccupied with the nurse in the room, and had not yet noticed Lockwood himself. He threw a look her way and took in the desperate edge to how she clutched him to her side. He gave her a soft smile before turning back to the nurse. “Don’t fret Holly,” he soothed, “I’ve met Miss Carlyle’s friend before. There’s no reason to separate them. Indeed, in this instance, it might do more harm than good. Healing from an attack of black magic requires a soothing atmosphere. If the bird helps reduce Miss Carlyle’s level of emotional distress, it would be counter-productive to separate them, don’t you think?”
It looked like Nurse Holly agreed only reluctantly, but made no other protests known on the matter. Dr. Bowman then moved to explain her condition, how she had reacted to her attack, and the steps that had been taken to help her.
Kipps managed to purge her of the black magic poisoning her just seconds after it made contact. The relic she had been working on was sealed away in its rune-ward box a split second before that. All in all, she could have been a lot worse off than she was.
“The numbness your feeling in your arm is because of where the black magic attacked you,” explained Bowman as he and the new nurse, Holly, worked to unwrap her shoulder.
The bandages concealed an angry red welt 3 inches long that wrapped over the front of her shoulder. It was swollen and sore to the touch. She sucked in a sharp breath as Holly began applying the enchanted cream she originally came to help her apply. It spread a cooling sensation over the welt itself, while making a warming sensation run down her arm that stung something awful.
She curled in towards Lockwood as much as she could from her position without jostling her shoulder away from the doctor or nurse. He swept his wing along her uninjured arm again to distract her from the pain.
“Under normal circumstances,” continued Bowman as Holly worked, “An attack of black magic would cause a numbing sort of paralysis in the affected appendage; as well as swelling and irritation at the point of direct contact. That was why I had you test your motor control when last you were awake. In your case, your veinous magic seems to have spared you that first physical symptom by becoming afflicted with it itself. I believe the black magic paralyzed your veinous magic as it sought out your core so it would not be capable of mounting its own defense. The cream Nurse Holly is applying now is enchanted to help your body physically heal from the touch of black magic. I’m afraid the numbness will persist for several days before turning into a persistent sting for a couple more. The swelling on your shoulder could persist for much longer than that – as much as a couple weeks. We’ll keep you here at the clinic until the broader reaching of your symptoms have faded.”
…
Nurse Holly did not seem to like the idea of letting someone’s pet bird sit with them in a medical clinic. She was prim and proper in a way that grated on her nerves a little. But she could also see how being that particular about cleanliness would be a good trait in someone who worked as a medical practitioner.
Holly was responsible for cleaning and disinfecting the room and the medical tools. It was understandable she would not like the idea of bird flying around and contaminating all her perfectly sterilized surfaces. But Lockwood did not move from her side, and he stayed well away from any of the sensors or tubes attached to her, so eventually Holly accepted his presence.
Flo came by late in the day for a visit. “How you doin there Love?” she asked.
Lockwood had to give her a firm poke with his beak before she fully registered the question. “Hmm?” she mumbled. “My…my magic feels numb…I don’t…like it.”
Lockwood swept his wing across her arm again and she tried curling towards the feeling.
Flo patted her knee under the blankets. “Get some rest there Girlie,” she soothed. “You’ll feel pretty off for a while yet. Doc’ll take good care of you though, don’t you worry.”
“S’what happened to you? After Lockwood rescued you?” she asked in a quiet, half-awake breath.
Lockwood continued to sweep his wing over her skin.
Flo took a long time to answer. “Yeah, it’s what happened to me.”
Only I was much worse. It was not said, but she knew it was probably true. Flo had been trapped in a black magic collar for a long time before Lockwood showed up and got her out.
…
It turned out she was not allowed her pet bird overnight anymore than she was allowed normal visitors. George showed up close to the end of the day.
“I’m sorry Lucy,” he consoled, “But we’re both going to have to leave you for the night.”
“I –”
Lockwood “CAW”-ed at her and swept his wing over her arm.
“This is DSRAC Lucy,” soothed George. “You’ll be completely safe here for the night. The nurses will still be around if you need anything. Dr. Bowman probably will too. I’m convinced he never goes home.”
“Come back?” she asked hesitantly.
Lockwood nudged her arm with his beak and gave her a very firm “CAW!” in response.
“Of course we’ll come back,” asserted George. “We’ll come back tomorrow first thing in the morning and sit with you, ok?”
“Yeah.”
“Get some sleep Lucy, you need it.”
She did not notice George was still wearing those cotton gloves as he left.
…
As promised, George and Lockwood came back first thing in the morning the next day. Lockwood reclaimed his place on the bed next to her. Since she was a little more aware now than she had been yesterday, she did not curl into him like a feather comfort blanket this time. He stayed pressed against her arm the whole time anyway. George sat with her for an hour or two as she dozed, then excused himself to go do his work.
She saw a lot of the nurse named Holly. She was brisk, efficient, and meticulous. The enchanted cream for her shoulder needed to be applied four times a day. Holly came by every four hours like clockwork, precisely on the dot. The nurse she had for the overnight shift was not quite as on-the-button about things, even as they also never missed the timeslot. She could not remember who the night nurse was, too tired to notice anything past the sting.
Half-way through the day, her entire curse-breaking team visited her. Bobby looked to have been dragged there by Kipps. His face was blotchy and she would not have been surprised if he had lost several pounds since yesterday.
When Kipps first walked in and saw the bird sitting on the bed next to her, he froze for a moment in shock. “Where did that come from!?” he demanded.
Kat smacked him, hard. She winced in sympathy. “Dr. Bowman said Lucy needs a soothing atmosphere to recover. I believe Karim brought their pet bird from home to stay with Lucy when others couldn’t so she would be more comfortable.”
Lockwood had sat staring intently at Kipps for a solid minute before dismissing him as unimportant. He was now sitting preening his feathers and ignoring the rest of them. He had not stopped pressing against her arm though.
Kipps continued to scowl at him for a moment. Kat cleared her throat pointedly and sent him a warning look.
“Right, fine,” grumbled Kipps. “Lucy, I think Bobby has something to say to you.”
He pushed the smaller boy forward rather forcefully. Bobby stumbled on his feet for a moment before regaining his bearings. He turned a contrite face to her, wringing his hands while avoiding eye contact.
“I…owe you an apology,” he muttered. Kipps cleared his throat pointedly and gave him a harsh look. “I got offended when you said my research wasn’t thorough enough, and I shouldn’t have. If I had done the research the way I’m supposed to, you might not have gotten attacked by the black magic from that relic. I’m sorry.”
“Karim has already supplied Inspector Barnes with a report that re-evaluates the research Bobby supplied. Barnes has ordered him replace Bobby as your researcher going forward,” stated Kat in the same toneless voice as always.
Bobby hung his head in shame while she spoke.
“Ok,” was all she managed to say. She still did not feel well and was only partially able to focus on what was being said. With his apology delivered, Bobby scurried away. Kipps and Kat sat with her for a little while longer – the former continuing to shoot suspicious looks at Lockwood. Idly, she wondered what that was about. As far as she knew, this was the first time Kipps had ever seen her “pet bird”.
Chapter 69
Notes:
Can you find the devil at the bottom of the cereal box? ;P
Chapter Text
Dr. Bowman kept her in the clinic for a full week. She only remembered about half of it, but still. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed again. If she was forced to stare at these four walls for one more day, she just might loose her mind to boredom.
There was also the fact that she had not been able to actually talk to Lockwood the entire time. The most he could manage as a bird was a drawn-out “CAW”. He stayed with her from the moment George came to visit in the morning, to the moment George came to pick him up at night before going home. While it was nice to have someone there with her all the time, it was not ideal. It was too risky for him to transform and be seen by the people in DSRAC.
He stayed with her, but she was still kind of lonely.
The numb feeling in her magic lasted four full days. When it finally faded, it gave way to a persistent pins-and-needles feeling that was more annoying than anything. Dr. Bowman would not even talk about letting her go home until those wider reaching sensations faded. It was not until Monday came around again that she finally managed to successfully convince him to let her go.
“How’s your shoulder?” asked George when he came by with Lockwood to pick her up and head home for the night.
“It’s mostly fine,” she said, rolling it experimentally. She hardly felt a twinge. The mark left by the dark magic had not quite faded yet though. “Bowman prescribed me the enchanted cream Nurse Holly’s been applying to take home with me. I’m supposed to apply it twice a day until the mark on my shoulder completely fades.”
George nodded. “I expected as much. You’re healing quickly if you were told to only apply it twice a day.”
“That’s what Nurse Holly told me too.”
…
“Luce,” rumbled Lockwood latter that night. She was curled up in an armchair in the living room watching a movie with him. She glanced over when he called. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you before this – George told me what the relic you were working on before being attacked really was.”
She blinked at him for a moment. “Oh, um, yeah?”
He gave her a soft, thin-lipped smile. “Do you remember how you were acting that first day?” he asked softly.
She felt her face heat and tried to pretend to be absorbed in the movie. “Um…sort of?”
“You know you don’t need to worry about me Luce,” he rumbled.
“Someone has to,” she whispered.
Lockwood’s close-lipped smile grew in brightness. “I think George already has that covered.”
“Well, maybe sometimes he could use a little help.”
He laughed softly. Of course he heard her. Stupid vampire super-hearing. They were both quiet for a long time after that.
“Did you know you still managed to break the enchantment on the relic?” asked Lockwood.
She turned sharply to stare at him. “No! How do you know that!?”
“I overheard your curse-breaking team talking about it in the hall. The other girl, Kat Goodwin I believe, was talking with that Kipps character outside your room. You shattered the relic when it was sealed inside a rune box. After you had already been attacked.”
She stared at him. “But…you can’t sense magic through those rune boxes! That’s literally what they’re made for!”
“What really happened that day Lucy?” asked Lockwood softly, an earnest look in his eye.
She tried to think back. A lot of it was blurry. “I…was trying to break the enchantment…” she started hesitantly. “I tried like 10 times without managing to get anywhere…”
Lockwood fixed her with a searching look. “Were you by any chance attacked on your 13th attempt?”
She shot him a look. “Yeah, I was actually. Why?”
Lockwood sat back and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Someone should have warned you beforehand,” he growled. “13 is a powerful number in black magic. Simply having that many attempts would have given the relic a small boost in power.”
“…I didn’t know that,” she mumbled.
“You’re still very new to the world of magic Luce,” soothed Lockwood. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But your team should have known. They should have been watching and warned you before it got to that point.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “Barnes reassigned Bobby. George is going to be my new researcher.”
“I think that’s a good thing then. At least I know George will pay enough attention to realize if you end up in that situation again.
“Was there anything else that happened?” asked Lockwood
She tried thinking back. That last attempt was where things started to get fuzzy. “I…managed to isolate a piece of the black magic. I was trying to figure out what it did and where the core of power was. I think I managed to crack it open…and then…I think I had a vision? Of the magical who…who made it.”
“A woman who lived about 150 years ago, I believe George said. She’d lost her children to a vampire attack,” supplied Lockwood quietly.
“Yes,” she mumbled. “She was so…angry and heartbroken…she wanted them to suffer…so she made sure they did…I…she…”
“Your vison showed you things from her point of view, didn’t it?” prodded Lockwood softly.
Now she was getting worked up just thinking about it. “Yes,” she near-sobbed, “She was…so angry…I didn’t…she enjoyed it!”
Lockwood was suddenly kneeling in front of her, and she threw herself on him. She started sobbing into his shoulder, crushing him in a hug.
“It’s alright Luce,” he soothed. “It was a vision. It wasn’t you – you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But she did!” she hiccoughed through her sobs. “She corrupted the purpose of her own magic, all for vengeance! And it was never enough for her!”
Lockwood held her steady as she broke down and cried. “That was how you broke the relic’s magic, wasn’t it?” he questioned in a soft whisper.
She was confused enough to stop crying and pull back to give him a bewildered look.
He smiled at her as he wiped her face. “You didn’t sense the magic, you saw the corruption, and destroyed it; is that it?”
She thought back to her experience again. “Yeah…yeah I did. I could still see it, and it was wrong. So I made it go away.”
Neither of them noticed the shape in the shadows watching them.
…
“My Lord,” grovelled Joseph as he executed a deep bow, his nose almost toughing the floor.
The vampire did not bother to grace him with a glance, preferring to roll his eyes at him. “Yes Joseph, what is it now?”
“Word from our source – the girl is healing quicker than expected. And she may have discovered something in magic that means she may soon discover how it works,” answered Joseph, still speaking to the floor.
A venomous smile twitched the corners of the vampire’s mouth, revealing pointed canines, impossibly long and sharp. “This is good news; very good news. I had expected to need to take the girl before she found it. It will be much cleaner if we can allow her to discover it on her own without needing to coerce her into it. Tell our ally to tread lightly. It would not do to rush her into it and cause her harm again – nor to raise any suspicions.”
Chapter 70
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The mark on her shoulder did not completely fade for another week. She was barred from further curse-breaking work until it was gone. She must really have scared everyone. George was hovering almost as much as Lockwood – and that was saying something.
“Kipps, I’m fine!” she growled over the phone. “I can go back to work!”
“Yeah? So you don’t still have a mark from an attack of black magic on your shoulder?” he snipped over the line.
She had no response to that, and stood there glaring at the phone in her hand.
“That’s what I thought,” declared Kipps. She hated it when he acted all superior like that. It made her want to throw mud at his face. “As your healer, I can’t let you come back until you are fully recovered – that means no curse-breaking until the mark goes away.”
He hung up after that and she stormed off in a huff. A little while latter, Lockwood came up with a freshly made cup of hot cocoa to make her feel better.
“Don’t say it,” she grumbled.
He gave her an amused look, his eyebrow raised and the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was about to smile. “Say what?”
“You think Kipps is right, and I shouldn’t go back to work until the mark is gone.”
He chuckled softly before giving her a fond look of exasperation. “Luce, I can still smell the slightly sour tinge to your magic that tells me you aren’t completely recovered, no matter how well you may feel.”
She sulked as she drank her hot cocoa, having already exhausted all contrary arguments. He suggested she go visit with Arif while he went out to check on George.
“I thought I was supposed to be too unwell to work?” she asked cheekily.
Lockwood threw her an exasperated look. “To use your magic, yes; not to visit a friend for a long conversation.”
He saw her safely to Arif’s as a bird before heading off to DSRAC to see if he could check on George and make sure he was fine too.
…
When she was finally allowed back to work, she immediately noticed the difference between working with Bobby and working with George as a researcher. Bobby gave her enough information to do the job, and that was about it. George on the other hand, gave you anything and everything you could ever possibly want to know about a relic.
There were more than a few times he had vetoed her working on specific items until he could do more research. In each instance, it was a good job he had; the initial findings he had not been happy with were the kind of ones that usually meant Bobby was not quite right about the nature of the relics. George had not missed a trick yet.
As ever, she could not get a reed on Kat. She could have hated George for all any of them knew, and was just too professional to ever show it. At least there were no more pointed, matter-of-fact remarks about the behaviour problems of the team researcher; so perhaps there was improvement.
Kipps was not exactly happy about having George on the team, but even he could not deny the difference it made in the work they were doing. “I’ll admit Karim,” he said one day after a particularly nasty relic had only taken her a half-hour to un-enchant thanks to George’s thorough research. “That you’re not a terrible researcher after all.”
“Maybe we should be taking you to the clinic Kipps,” commented George. He still had his nose buried in his file of notes on the next relic they were to work on, and did not bother to look up from them. His thin cotton gloves had become a permanent fixture during work. He wore them to make sure that he never got any fingerprints on the historical documents he handled while researching. He always seemed to forget to take them off. “That almost sounded like a compliment, coming from you.”
“Don’t be stupid Karim. I just said you’re not awful. That’s hardly singing your praises.”
“Sure thing Kipps. Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.”
She hid her giggling behind her hand as Kipps made a face like he had swallowed a lemon.
…
Her being allowed back at work also meant that she was once again allowed to help George at home with figuring out Lockwood’s cure. Saturday next, she found herself locked away in the warded room of the basement, George having accosted Lockwood and dragged him down as well.
“We’re going to try something different now. Lucy, I want you to see if you can figure out what purpose in magic is attached to Lockwood, if any,” he declared once he dumped Lockwood on a chair in the middle of the room and glared at him enough to make him stay put. “You’ve been figuring out a little of how to do that at work, particularly with the nastier relics. I want you to try and apply it here.”
“George,” sighed Lockwood.
“Nope!” snapped George, pointing his finger threateningly at Lockwood’s face. “You, quiet. Lucy, let’s give this a shot.”
She twisted her fingers nervously in front of her, eyes flicking from George’s face to Lockwood, then back. “Is this a good idea?” she asked hesitantly. “We don’t even know if there is any magic attached to Lockwood –”
“Except we do,” cut in George. “We know that a magical did something that restored his soul to him. Ergo, there is at least some magic attached to him, since he still has his soul.”
“This sounds like it could end badly,” interjected Lockwood. He cast a warning look to George. “Lucy’s only just recovered from being attacked by black magic. Should we really be doing this now?”
“Lucy managed to destroy a blood magic relic inside it’s sealed rune ward box by feeling, isolating, and getting rid of the corrupted purpose of the relic. At work, we’ve been working on developing that skill so she can break the curses on more dangerous relics through much safer means – one that does not involve exposing her and everyone else in the room to active black magic. Lockwood, getting Lucy to feel for magical purpose attached to you is probably the safest thing we could ask her to do.”
Lockwood was not fully convinced. But even he could not deny that she had been making progress in breaking more dangerous enchantments with her new-found skill in safer ways. They spent the entire day working. She was not sure what she was looking for. Was it corrupted purpose? Was it healing purpose? She was not sure. She could not find any magic attached to Lockwood.
Closer to the end of the day she thought she might have felt something, but it was so faint, she was not certain it was not just her imagination. George was not deterred. Lockwood certainly seemed uncomfortable with all the scrutiny though. She did not ask him why – was not sure she wanted to know his answer.
George corralled them all into doing the same thing Sunday too. She firmly put her foot down when lunchtime came around. “I am getting out of the house for a bit,” she declared.
“But Lucy –”
“Don’t care! I would still like to have some semblance of a weekend, thank you very much!”
They all escaped George’s clutches after that. Lockwood watched over her as a bird from the air as she wandered around the nearest park for a walk. He came down and sat with her when she stopped under the shade of a large old oak tree.
“How old do you think this tree is?” she questioned absently, staring up the solid trunk to the enormous canopy sprawling out over her head. The texture of the bark spiralled upwards in a lattice-like pattern, disappearing gradually from her view as it rose in height. The trunk she sat against was easily a metre in diameter, if not more. “It might be nearly as old as you, Lockwood.”
He “CAW-ed” at her in an offended sort of way, causing her to laugh at him. He retaliated by landing on her shoulder and tickling her again. She collapsed, giggling, as she swatted him away.
Notes:
*Jeopardy music plays in the background*
I'm interested to see when exactly we get into it. We're almost there.
Chapter 71
Notes:
I have no comments, just ~~~///(^v^)\\\~~~
Chapter Text
Lucy had her eyes closed as she concentrated. Her and her team were down in the DSRAC vaults working on un-enchanting another relic – this one another nasty piece of blood magic. Kat’s magic identification had told her it was meant to raise an army of the dead. George’s research expanded on that. The relic was created by a magical who had been a part of a doomed uprising against a powerful and brutal king at some point in history. All the man’s friends were slaughtered for their treachery. In his heartbreak and his desperation, he brought them all back by mixing the marrow of their bones with the blood of 13 unlucky members of the king’s guard. No one survived the ensuing battle – not even the magical himself.
Kat stood next to the rune-ward box. She stood ready to open it if this first attempt did not work. She breathed in deeply and tried to feel for purpose in the room. The man had wanted to help. He grieved for his lost friends, and wanted them back. So he had brought them back. But you could not really come back that way.
Purpose, well meaning, misguided, stained. She looked for it. She could feel the stain of it in the room. Her brows furrowed in her concentration. Everyone knew not to speak and risk startling her; the room was silent.
Maybe? No, not there. She could not find it. What had George said?
“The magical must have known that gathering another troupe of men would only end the same way – in slaughter. So he found a way to bring down the king without wasting any more lives. It almost would have been noble, if it wasn’t blood magic. If he wasn’t raising the dead from their rest. He started playing with things he didn’t understand, and then lost control and died for his trouble. I guess there’s some consolation in that the tyrannical king was taken down in the end. Nobody was left to be happy about it though.”
A stain. Well meaning, misguided. Too much death. Innocence destroyed. Purpose; the end justifies the means.
There!
She could feel it. Wanting to help for all the right reasons. Failing to do so because of how you chose to do it. It was not black – that was why she missed it. It was grey. Not good. Not wholly bad either. Something in between, because it was supposed to be good. But the reality fell short of the idea.
“It wasn’t right. The men you killed. The friends you tore from their rest. Let them sleep – let them all sleep. You don’t have to be angry any more. That king is gone now. He can never hurt anyone ever again, unless your enchantment lets him.”
She thought the words like and prayer or an entreaty. A shiver passed through the air, and she felt something off-kilter click back into place.
A loud sigh of relief sounded in her mind, and she knew she had done it. Magic was happy again. The grey tinge was gone now.
She opened her eyes and gave Kat a nod. Kipps dragged her off to the side to check her over as Kat opened the box to check and make sure the enchantment was really gone. She smiled proudly when no sense of cloying darkness filled the room as the lid eased open.
…
George waited until the weekend to corral both Lockwood and her in the ward room of the basement. “You did really well the other day with feeling for purpose in magic Lucy,” he praised. “I really think if you apply the same process to this, you can figure out Lockwood’s cure.”
“I still don’t like this,” grumbled Lockwood from the chair George had dumped him in.
George ignored him as he herded her towards a second seat. “Just try it Lucy, I know you can do it.”
She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I’ll try.”
And she did. She tried for hours. It was maddening; there was something there. She could feel it. It was like that lone hair that lands on your face, tickling you. You know for damn sure it’s there, but you find yourself palming over your face trying to get it off anyway because you just can’t find it.
‘Touch him.’
She jerked back, startled for a moment, her eyes snapping open to stare around the room.
“Luce, I don’t want you to strain yourself. If this isn’t working, that’s fine. Thank you for trying,” called Lockwood from his place.
“Can we –”
“Enough George!” growled Lockwood warningly. “What has gotten into you lately? You know full well that Lucy needs to rest before going back to work on Monday. It will only put her in danger if you continue to press so hard for this and she ends up straining herself. We are done.”
He stood and made for the door as George sputtered ineffectually.
She watched the two of them in a kind of daze. “I heard something.”
Lockwood froze where he stood, hand extended towards the handle of the door. George shot her an excited look.
“What did you hear Lucy?” he demanded, a manic kind of gleam in his eye.
She chewed on her lip as Lockwood turned to watch her.
“I heard…I’m not…can I try one more thing before we stop?” she asked, watching Lockwood beseechingly.
He heaved a great sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Are you sure about this Luce?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” she said immediately, even though she was not really.
Lockwood returned to his chair. George did not interrupt them. She hovered on the edge of indecision for a moment longer, and then stepped closer to Lockwood.
“Luce?” he prodded as she stepped forward nervously. “Are you alright?”
“Shh.”
She needed to listen. Why touch Lockwood? What would that do?
‘What is a soul, but energy in need of a vessel?’
She swayed in as if in a trance. What on earth was that supposed to mean? If magic was deciding now to help out, why could it not be more specific? But even as her annoyance mounted, some part of her seemed to understand.
She knelt without opening her eyes.
“Lucy?” she heard someone ask from far away. She shh-ed them again without noticing.
Her palm landed on something. She was not sure what; but she knew it was in the right place. She breathed in deeply.
‘Look.’
And she did. At first, all she got in response was that vague sense that something was there, hiding in plane sight. No intention. No magic. Just the notion that something was where there was nothing. But she looked – or rather, she listened.
‘Love me back. Please, love me back.’
‘See? Touch, look,’ said what could only be the voice of magic, resonant and echoing in her mind – in her magic.
But where had that other voice come from? It originated from whatever was in front of her. Whatever she was touching.
‘Love me back,’ it said again.
No, that was not quite right; it was not actually talking. It did not know she was there. It was an echo – like a record put on repeat that never stopped. It just continued, breathing its entreaty for the rest of eternity.
Can you love without a soul? Whatever this mark was had not thought so. She tended to agree. There was a hollow somewhere – a black abyss she shied away from because she had no idea where it could possibly end up. Nowhere good, that much was for sure. But in the middle of the hollow, she found it. It was another of those grey marks in magic.
The woman who did it, she had loved someone. A Covenist vampire. They kept her around rather than feed on her or because she was useful. She gave him advantages over his competitors he could not pass up. She did it because she loved him; or, at least the idea of him she held in her mind. But he was a vampire with a shattered soul and only part of a mind. He could not love her back. So she worked to find a way to change that.
It was the pocket of grey in the abyss of black. Selfish, in a way; to manipulate another for something that you want. Healing in another, for restoring something that was lost.
‘Love me back. Please, love me back.’
There. The power was like a shining light, beating back the darkness. It carved out a space for itself, but remained surrounded on all sides by emptiness. Whispered words she had never heard before, but instantly knew the meaning of. The spell to restore a vampire their soul.
‘Listen. Remember,’ resonated the voice of magic through all the power in her veins and core combined.
She gasped as she came back to herself. Lockwood sat on the floor in front of her. Her hand was pressed to his chest, right over his heart. He gazed at her with shining eyes, deep as an ocean.
“Luce?” he called as her head spun on her shoulders. “Lucy, look at me. Are you alright?”
“I found it,” she breathed. Lockwood caught her as she tottered, threatening to crash in a sprawl on the floor to the side. “I know the spell. I can do it.”
Chapter 72
Notes:
You get one last hurrah before I'm pulling the rug out. 😁
Chapter Text
She probably should have stopped when Lockwood originally declared them finished. If she had, she would not be this wiped out. Course, stopping then would also mean they would still be in the dark as to how to recreate Lockwood’s cure. Now they knew.
“What’re you getting mad at me for?” demanded George as Lockwood gathered her up and made to carry her upstairs to her bed. “She’s the one who wanted one more shot. It’s not my fault she ended up like this!”
“Nothing you’ve had her try recently has been safe,” snapped Lockwood. “I know you don’t like not having the answer, but you’re usually much more cautious than this.”
“Nothing like this happened at DSRAC with relics we were working on. She practiced the technique there plenty,” argued George petulantly.
“This was still experimental. You should have been more careful with how far you were pushing her.”
“Guys, don’t,” she mumbled half-heartedly. She knew Lockwood heard her. She was not sure if George did though.
“Are you really going to lecture me about recklessness!?” howled George as they left the room. “That’s rich, coming from you!”
“George, are you going to help me make sure Lucy’s alright, or are you going to whine at me some more?”
He did end up helping. The boys both tucked her away in her bed. She felt too woozy to argue the situation. George ended up drawing healing runes on her arm again before calling DSRAC and letting them know she was unwell and would need to stay home to recover on Monday.
“I found the cure…” she mumbled from her place snuggled under her blankets, “You’re not happy?”
Lockwood lifted her chin up and pressed two fingers to her pulse point. She blinked blearily at him. “Of course I’m happy Luce,” he soothed. “I’m thrilled. But right now, I’m more concerned about your well-being. Close your eyes and rest now, ok? You did well.”
She flailed blindly for a moment before finding his arm. Once she had it, she clutched it in both hands and melted back into her pillows. “M’kay.”
Lockwood sat in a chair that had somehow materialized next to her bed. He slipped his arm out of her grip before taking one of her hands in his. “I’ve got you Luce. Just rest.”
…
“My Lord!”
“Yes, Joseph? What is it?”
“I have word from our ally – the girl has figured out the cure! It seems to have been a strain and she’s somewhat taken ill, but we have what we need now.”
A brilliant white smile with unnaturally long sharp teeth leered through the darkness. “Excellent. Tell our ally to give it a few days for the dust to settle, and then set the plan into motion.”
…
She woke to the feeling of something being whipped away from her abruptly. She blinked around her room, trying to find what was now gone. Suddenly it clicked – there was no hand holding hers anymore. Where had Lockwood gone?
“CAW!”
Rolling her head, she turned to see Lockwood in his other form standing by her pillow. “Lock…what?”
He shook his feathers and stared in the direction of her door for an answer. It took a moment before she had any idea why.
“I don’t care what your excuse is Karim, Inspector Barnes sent both me and Nurse Holly from the clinic to check Lucy over after getting the message you left at DSRAC. Where is she?” she heard Kipps’ voice echo up through the house.
Stomping footsteps rang out and made her cringe away from the loud noise. Lockwood brushed a wing over her forehead to comfort her as she shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in the pillow, hoping the noises would stop soon.
“Barnes didn’t need to send you guys. I think I’d know if my own friend was sick enough to warrant going to the clinic or not,” she heard George growl.
“Boys, please,” cut in the softer voice of Nurse Holly. “George, we’ve already come all this way. We may as well check Lucy over; to put Barnes’ mind at ease if nothing else. Will you kindly show us to where her room is?”
There was a beat of silence. “Fine,” conceded George, “But I volunteer Kipps as the one to wake her up if she happens to be sleeping.”
“I believe that’s fair,” trilled Holly. “After you.”
More footsteps sounded on the stairs. “She’s up here, in the loft.”
“We passed by two other bedrooms on the way here, not including yours. Why the hell is she all the way up here?”
“The loft has its own bathroom.”
“Any girl would appreciate her privacy Kipps. Nothing strange about that.”
“Yeah, especially when not having it would mean sharing with Karim here.”
“Oi!”
The footsteps stopped outside her door and she heard a soft knock. She buried herself deeper into her blankets. Lockwood swept his wing across what exposed skin he could reach to calm her.
“Lucy? It’s me, George. Are you awake? Can I come in?”
She grumbled slightly, but did not actually say anything.
After a moment, George called out again. “Lucy? I’m coming, ok? Nurse Holly from the clinic and Kipps are here with me. Barnes sent them to make sure you’re ok.”
Her door opened and George led the other two up the few remaining stairs to her bedroom. She blinked bleary eyes at him. “Oh, good. You are awake. Kipps and Holly are just gonna look you over, ok?”
The other two made their way up after him. Holly gave her a reassuring, pleasant smile. Kipps however, froze when he saw Lockwood standing next to her pillow.
“What is that?” he demanded, rounding on George.
George gave him a look that clearly expressed his musing on how much of brain Kipps really had. “One would think you’d recognize a bird when you saw it Kipps.”
“I know it’s a bird!” snipped Kipps, fuming a little. “What is it doing here?”
“I believe it’s normal for people’s pets to stick with them when they’re feeling a little under the weather. They can sense it, and want to give what support they can,” offered Holly in a light voice. Kipps continued to scowl at Lockwood. The latter ignored him completely, choosing to preen his feathers unconcernedly. “I believe we interrupted Lucy’s much needed sleep for a reason Kipps? Perhaps we should get back to that.”
Kipps seemed like he wanted to harp on about the bird sitting next to her pillow a little more before he slumped down in defeat. “Yes. Fine.” He shot Lockwood one last suspicious look before getting down to business.
Kipps checking out her magic was a sensation she was intimately familiar with these days. Today though, she squirmed around more than usual because of how uncomfortable it was. Lockwood pressed his soft feathers against her when she did.
“Stay still Lucy,” said Kipps much softer than he had been speaking to George. “I know you’re a little sore right now. Let me help.”
It did not take long for Kipps to find the healing runes on her arm and wipe them away. “Those would have helped her,” he conceded to George’s smug look. “But I can give her the same relief right now whereas those runes would have taken hours yet to fully kick in.”
Once Kipps was finished, saying she only had a little strain in her magic – nothing of any real concern – Holly had her turn and checked her over. When the two were satisfied, they took their leave, George herding them out quickly. When the sounds of foreign feet in the house were finally gone, Lockwood shifted back, once again taking up his spot in the chair next to her bed holding one of her hands. She fell asleep again not that long after.
…
She still felt a little off for most of Sunday too, despite being looked over by both Kipps and Holly. Neither Lockwood nor George made any mention of Lockwood’s cure the whole time. Lockwood was too focused on making sure she got the rest she needed to recover. George too made sure she had everything she needed, but he seemed more distracted than anything.
Chapter 73
Notes:
😈😱
Chapter Text
By Monday morning she was maybe a little more tired than usual, but otherwise she felt completely fine. Or, well enough at least to be excited about the prospect of paying Lockwood back for all the kindness he has shown her.
“Luce,” sighed Lockwood when she came down for breakfast. Her morning toast and tea already waiting for her. “I appreciate your enthusiasm for wanting to help so much. But I don’t want you to rush into this any more than you already have and end up hurting yourself again. George, would you be able to look into the spell Lucy found on Saturday to learn more about it?”
George looked up from his notebook where he was scribbling something feverishly. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, of course. Now that we have an exact wording, it should be easy to figure out how much power it’ll take to do the spell and how exactly it needs to happen.” He gave her an approving nod. “You’ve done the hard part Lucy; now let me do mine so you know exactly what we’re getting into when we try the spell for real.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll back off.”
George nodded absent-mindedly and Lockwood gave her a thin-lipped smile.
“Take the extra day off to rest,” said George, “Leave everything else to me.”
He left for work not long after that. Lockwood tailed him to headquarters to make sure everything was fine.
…
When Lockwood came back after seeing George safely into the building at headquarters, it was to find her pacing agitatedly around the house.
“Luce? What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly startled by her odd behaviour.
She rounded on him with a wild kind of look. “I…don’t know!” she rushed, frantic. “My magic – its…gone all funny. It feels like a warning…but I can’t understand for what!” She spun around, turning her back on him and hugging herself, hoping that would stop the buzzing that had taken up residence in her veins. It did not work.
“Luce,” called Lockwood. She clutched her arms tighter to her chest. “It’s alright,” he said as he gently turned her to face him.
“But it’s not!”
“Tell me what you’re feeling Luce. When did this start?” he asked calmly.
She chewed her lip, trying to think as he took hold of her arms. “I’m not sure…I just…it feels like it did when…when…”
She was staring at his toes, brow furrowed as she tried to think. Furrowed as she desperately tried not to think just as much.
Lockwood took hold of her chin and lifted her face so he could look her in the eyes. “Luce, you’re safe here, alright? Tell me what it is you’re feeling, what your trying not to think about.”
“…It…feels like it did before…when I was…”
“When you were kidnapped,” he supplied for her at her continued stuttering.
She threw herself on him, seeking comfort in his arms as he hesitantly wrapped them around her. “Yes,” she breathed.
He gave her a firm squeeze. “Did this happen suddenly, or have there been things leading up to it?” he asked, again in that calm voice. She tried taking solace in it.
“While you were gone at Ightham Court,” she whispered, “I started getting this hollow feeling in my magic. I don’t know what it was from. It didn’t get better when you came back…I…”
“You were hoping it would.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“That was the morning you had that vision about George.”
An electric shock seemed to spear through her at the mention of their other friend. “Lockwood, what if…if it’s going to happen? What if –”
“Lucy, listen to me,” he interrupted with sudden heat. “Prophecy is never anything more than a possibility. George is fine. He’s safely stowed away in DSRAC headquarters. I watched him walk through the doors after getting out of his cab. He would not have been able to do that if he had been turned into a vampire.”
“But, my vision –”
“It has not happened yet. Remember that.”
She could not stop herself from shaking just a little as he held her.
“I know who the vampire from your vision is,” he admitted after a heavy silence. “Neither him, nor any of his coven or servants have gone near George. I’ve been watching.”
“Who is he? What does he want?” she asked.
Lockwood was silent for a beat. “His name…is Sir John Fairfax…He is the one, who’s capture and experiments resulted in my soul being restored to me. He wasn’t happy with the results the magical he had under his employ presented him in me. He became a daywalker the night I escaped with my sister by feeding on and killing her. I managed to steal the magical’s diary on the way out. There is plenty incentive in there for him to want it back.”
“But why George?” she wailed, clutching him tighter.
He did not answer right away. She started to think that maybe he would not at all. But then he spoke, “When someone is turned…if have a lot of a single vampire’s blood in their system before they die…they instinctively defer to the orders of that vampire once turned. That’s how all the strongest covens work. The elder at the head is the sire of all their underlings. They cannot disobey their sire.”
…
Once she was somewhat calmer, Lockwood left to circle the DSRAC building and wait for George to emerge. “I’ll tail him on the way home from close enough to make sure no one will bother him, alright?” he said as he left. “Promise me you’ll stay safe inside the house while I’m gone?”
“I promise,” she said, twisting her fingers nervously. “Just make sure he’s safe.”
“I will.”
He left after that. The tingling in her magic did not abate. She hoped it did not mean her vision had gone from a “possibility” to a “certainty.”
…
“Hey, Lucy? Do you know if anything is going on with Lockwood? He’s usually a lot more careful of staying at a distance when he tails me to or from work,” asked George when he stepped in the door at the end of the day.
“George!” she yelled as she crushed him in a hug. Lockwood walked through in after him and closed the door softly.
“Um, Lucy?” stuttered George in surprise at her attack. “What’s going on?” He looked from the top of her head to Lockwood in bewilderment.
“Lucy’s magic is giving her warning signals,” supplied Lockwood when her only response was to continuing to smother George. “She’s afraid it has something to do with her vision of you being turned into a vampire.”
Understanding dawned on his face. Not that it really helped him – she still refused to let go. Lockwood had to come up and help George peel her off himself.
“Luce, nothing happened. George is fine,” soothed Lockwood.
George pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “Lockwood’s right Lucy. I came straight home from DSRAC – Lockwood was waiting for me outside the building. All I did was walk from the door to the cab, and then the cab to our door. I’m alright.”
“You have to be careful! In my vision you were –”
“Lucy,” cut in George as he replaced his glasses. “I’m always careful. Please, before you get all worked up, remember that prophecies are treacherous. Most never come true. And even when they do, the initial prophecy can be misinterpreted. They very often don’t mean what the seer thought they did at all.”
“I know what I heard!” she defended herself.
George raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you don’t. All I’m saying is there are often multiple ways to interpret visions in general, not just ones that deal with possible futures. And it often does more harm than good to worry this much about it.”
“Luce,” called Lockwood, “George is fine right now. Everything else can wait. Focus on what’s true right now.”
She was not wholly convinced. Her magic continued to tingle in her veins, and that scared her. Because this was not just about vampires; if it was, being in Lockwood’s territory would have blocked it like before.
…
She managed to calm herself down enough to go into work the next day. Kipps called the house and talked to George about it during breakfast. “Yeah Kipps, she’s ok to come in. We’ll have to keep an eye on her today though – she had a bit of a scare last night, and I don’t think she’s completely over it yet.”
She listened from covertly from around the corner of the nearest doorway. It just so happened that Lockwood was sitting in the library where she had staged her stakeout. She kept shooting him dirty looks as the tried to contain his laughter at her obvious eavesdropping.
“It’s nothing serious. She’s just on edge about something the saw in a vision some time ago.” George hung up the phone after that. “You can come out from wherever your hiding now Lucy. I’m done talking to Kipps.”
Lockwood lost the battle to contain his laughter at that, trying to cover his chortling with a hand over his mouth to little success. She scowled at him as she sheepishly emerged into the hall and gave George her best innocent smile.
One look at his face told her he was not even almost buying it.
“Are we going to go to work, or would you rather fail at spying some more?” he asked with a roll of his eyes.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” she asked cheekily. Who ever wanted to go to work rather than sitting around goofing off?
George let out a long-suffering groan. “Just go get ready.”
…
George and her pilled themselves in the back of the cab on their way to work. Lockwood followed them from the air. Her magic continued to tingle in her veins in warning. She tried to ignore it.
Strangely, there was no traffic around them as they drove down the road to headquarters. They came up on an underpass of a bridge over the Thames. Lockwood was following them from high enough that she lost sight of him as they passed under.
Only they did not “pass under” the bridge at all.
Their cab slammed on the brakes suddenly – another identical cab sitting squarely in the lane in front of them, not going anywhere. The seatbelts clicked as they stopped her and George from flying forward and braining themselves on the seats in front of them.
“What the hell!?” she screeched as the cab in front of them started to go. They stayed exactly where they stopped.
“Sorry guys, the person in front of us doesn’t seem to have been paying attention,” called the cabby from the front.
Her magic screamed at her. She knew that voice. She had heard it before. That night at the auction…and then again, when she had that vision of George being turned. “George, we need to get out of the car, right now!”
She did not see the driver’s victorious smirk as she dragged a startled George out. They sprawled onto the pavement, but she was on her feet and dragging George along after her in an instant.
It did not do any good. Five burly looking men and women were already surrounding them. The vampire servant masquerading as a cab driver got out of his car and joined the circle surrounding them.
“What’s this? What’s going on!?” George called from his place behind her back.
“It’s them – Fairfax’s servants!”
Several of them laughed at her distress. The others looked confused at how she so easily knew who they worked for.
Her magic sat ready at her finger tips. Flo had shown her how to defend herself with magic. She hoped to never have to use those lessons, but she was extremely grateful for them right now. Just as she gathered her magic to blast a hole in the human barrier standing between them and safety, she felt George grab her wrist from behind.
She did not startle at the touch, but then there was a click, followed by a sharp sting as something sharp pressed into her skin. Instinctively, she jerked her hand out of George’s grip. Her magic wheezed as it crashed back through her skin and curdled in her veins, unresponsive. Any semblance of a defensive attack escaping her as she swayed on her feet before crashing sideways to the ground.
The fall knocked the wind out of her, and she cradled her stinging wrist to her chest. She now wore a polished looking wrought iron cuff with an elaborate clasp she had never seen the like of before. A glance over the visible runes on the cuff was enough to tell her this cuff was a magic binder. The throbbing sting underneath it told her it had a small prong sticking into her flesh.
“This part of your mapping here, this is really important to know Lucy,” said George as they worked through the document. “This means that unless a magic bind is in direct contact with your blood stream, it won’t be effective against you. You’re veinous magic means that you would be able to bypass any other kind of bind and still use magic.”
“George!?” she cried, tears starting to sting her eyes as she looked up at his strangely glazed face.
“I’m sorry Lucy. It needed to be done,” was his only answer.
She tried crawling backwards along the ground, only to meet the legs of one of their assailants. They seized her before she could jerk away and hauled her to her feet.
“What have they done to you?” she whispered as she watched the blankness in his face – the dissociation. “What have you done to him!?” she screamed at the other people trying to manhandle her towards a black van waiting off to the side of the road.
She tried to force her magic out past the bind as she struggled. It felt like dragging her arms over rows upon rows of barbed wire, the sharp prongs digging in and making her bleed. She got a whiff of a sense of chains of darkness wrapped tightly around George. The sense of control, wrongness was everywhere.
She screamed as her magic snapped back below her skin, dragged away by the bind on her wrist. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!”
“Someone get her in the box. We’ve all got to be long gone before anyone realizes they’ve disappeared,” barked the only voice she knew – Joseph, from the hoity one from the auction.
She saw George walk around too get into the passenger seat at the front of the van as she was shoved into a steel box bolted to the floor of the van and locked inside. She beat her fists bloody on the door, trying to get out. “GEORGE!”
Chapter 74
Notes:
...and then it got WORSE...
( •_•)>⌐■-■
Chapter Text
“Yes, hello. I need you to put me through to Inspector Barnes immediately! No, this is important. I know the rules, I work at DSRAC! It’s George Karim…Then YOU tell him Lucy’s been killed!”
“One moment please.”
A tone sounded through the phone.
It was not 3 seconds latter that Barnes picked up. “Karim? It’s Barnes. What’s happened?”
“I…it’s…she’s gone!”
“Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know! I just ran while…he was busy…gorging…himself…” Sounds of hyperventilating filled the air.
Muffled voces came through the phone, as if people were talking amongst themselves on the other end. “Karim, I need you to breathe. Sergeant Wade is tracking you through the phone line. We’ll come to you.”
“YOU WON’T GET HERE IN TIME! WHAT IF HE COMES AFTER ME NEXT!”
“Stay in the sunlight. That should be enough of a deterrent.”
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO DO!? HE’S A DAYWALKER!”
A moment of silence. “Karim, we have your location. The closest team is on their way to you right now.”
“Please hurry,” he mumbled through the phone.
…
Lockwood sped back to the only place he could have lost sight of Lucy and George – the underpass. He followed what he thought was their cab all the way to DSRAC headquarters before realizing they were not in the car. The only place he lost sight of them was that underpass; there was nowhere else they could be.
He cursed himself as he flew; he should have been more suspicious of the lack of traffic. This was London for god sakes. The streets were never empty.
By the time he reached the spot and flew under the bridge, he found traffic restored to the road. That was not a good sign. Right in the middle of the bridge were two sets of unconnected skid marks. One looked like a car had stopped hard, leaving rubber behind. The other set started about 5 feet away – probably from the cab he followed to DSRAC trying for a running start to evade suspicion.
He caught the faintest whiff of Lucy’s blood. It could not have been more than a pinprick’s worth, but he could smell it. It could easily have been from her falling and scraping a hand – but after all these years, he knew better than that. He had gone through her mapping with her. If they bound her magic, they would need one with a prong to puncture a vein and make contact with her blood, or it would not work.
Lucy was powerful. She would have been able to fight off any number of human vampire servants. Flo would have made sure of it. They would need to bind her magic to ensure she could not get away. He had to find them.
…
George huddled in under a blanket in the back of a DSRAC van. The field agents were all trained in basic medical treatment. They had already looked him over for signs of having been attacked by a vampire. His hands were a little scraped, but there were no puncture marks.
The agents talked over their secure radios. Someone banged on the back door of the van. He flinched and huddled as far away from it as he could.
“Easy Karim. It’s just the Inspector,” placated the agent sitting with him.
“As far as you know,” he muttered darkly under his breath while they moved to let whoever it was in.
But the doors opened and revealed nothing more harrowing than the strained face of Barnes. He clambered into the back and stared around at them all. “Agents Stevens, Olivia, could you give Karim and I a moment?”
“Course Inspector. We’ll be in the other car.”
Wade stood at the back doors of the van. She pushed them mostly closed, but left it open a crack so she could still hear what they were saying as she stood guard outside. Her gun cocked and held ready in her hand as she scanned the space around them for threats.
“George, I know how traumatized you must be right now. But I need you to tell me what happened,” started Barnes once they were alone.
“He killed her,” breathed George, trying his best not to choke up.
“Who did? You knew them?”
“I thought he was my friend! I thought he was our friend! He only knew about Lucy through me… and now…”
Barnes cut him off from his tearful spiral by putting a hand on his shoulder. “George, it’s not your fault if he deceived you. Just tell me who he is.”
“It was Lockwood,” breathed George, huddling further under his blanket.
“Who is Lockwood?”
“…He’s the one who gave me the vampire venom I used to synthesize the antidote…”
“You didn’t find that suspicious?”
“No, I didn’t! He could walk through protection runes without even noticing they were there!”
A dark look passed over Barnes’ face. Outside, Wade turned her head to better hear what was being said, a worried scowl colouring her face.
“…He saved her when she was kidnapped,” breathed George after a moment. “I thought…”
“This Lockwood, he is unaffected by protection runes?” asked Barnes sharply.
“Yes. That’s why I thought…”
“Easy Karim,” placated Barnes. “Is this also the same individual who was Lucy’s partner inside that relic auction?”
“Yes.”
“He fed on Lucy?” asked Barnes softly.
Tears sprang to George’s eyes and he ducked under his blanket. “Yes.”
“You think he’s going to come after you next?”
“I know. He knows I saw him.”
“Karim, I’m going to take your jacket from you. I need you to wipe your scraped palms on it.”
George wiped his sluggishly oozing scrapes on the outside of his jacket before wordlessly handing it off to Barnes.
He pulled on sterile gloves before grabbing it. “Stevens and Olivia are going to take you to the clinic at DSRAC to be properly checked over.”
“What are you going to do about Lockwood?”
“You don’t need to worry about that anymore Karim. Just go get checked out.”
Neither Barnes nor Wade noticed the relieved sigh that escaped George as they left, having accepted his story.
…
Lockwood scoured all the places he knew Fairfax’s coven had claimed in the city. It being daylight, there was obviously not much movement at any of them. If he had to guess, he would say Fairfax had been watching them for a long time, and had already cleared out all the compromised places. The scent claims were somewhat stale, telling him that nobody was home right now.
He flew back up the Thames along the road they disappeared along once again, hoping he could find something. And then he smelt it – George. He knew the smell of George’s blood well. He never seemed to realize when he gave himself a paper cut until he washed his hands and felt the sting from the soap.
The scent was faint, and a little stale, but it was coming from an abandoned warehouse along the edge of the river. He flew a circuit around the building before doing anything else. There were no scent claims anywhere around – if they had been here, nobody was anymore. But it was lead, which was more than he had to go on right now. There was an abandoned black van parked outside though. This had to be the place.
The sun was starting to set, casting its crimson glow across the world as he transformed before entering the warehouse cautiously. He could not smell any other vampires, or Lucy, but George’s scent was definitely stronger now.
Water dripped along the rafters and rats scurried around the edges of the walls. They always squealed in fear at his approach before darting away. How animals could always recognize vampires like that he had never understood. Humans, baring magicals, never could.
He wound through corridors until he found himself in a side room with a door leading to the alley where the van was parked. In the middle of the room was George’s jacket, thrown over a long-forgotten half-rotted crate.
“George,” he whispered as he approached the crate like it was an animal that would bite him. The scent came from a smear of half-congealed blood on the arm. With shaking fingers, he grabbed the jacket and picked it up, bringing it closer. George’s scent overwhelmed him for a moment.
And then a click sounded from the box, and silver dust shot up into his face. He snorted and reeled back, hissing as the skin on his cheek bubbled and blistered where the dust touched. The only reason he had not gotten a full face full was because of how close to his face he was holding George’s jacket.
DSRAC. Vampires would not have set a silver trap. But he did not get the chance to run. Something up above released with a clang at the same moment the burst of silver dust was triggered. A heavy chain net made of pure silver dropped on his head. He let out a startled yelp as it touched, and crashed to the floor along with it.
That much silver that close made his head buzz unpleasantly. He was too disoriented to throw off the net before spring clamps hidden in the gathering gloom of the warehouse snapped down on the edges of it. He was trapped.
The door to the alley with the van burst open. A dark skinned man wearing a leather jacket and a shining DSRAC badge led the way inside, gun already pointed straight at his heart. A shorter, heavier set woman followed soon after with a scowl on her face and a gun poised ready in her hand just the same.
“So your Lockwood then,” commented the dark skinned man. He could not gather his thoughts enough to figure out who he likely was. “You’re going to tell me, vampire, exactly what it is you’ve done with Carlyle’s body, and how you can walk through protection runes.”
He groaned in pain, hiding from the touch of the silver net as much as he could under his greatcoat. “…Inspector Barnes…” he gasped, finally putting the pieces together in his frazzled mind.
Chapter 75
Notes:
Lockwood is not having a fun time of it...
Chapter Text
Lockwood panted raggedly as the silver chain links pressed harshly into his back. His greatcoat was protecting him from them for now, but that would not last forever. He had burn marks on his face and hands that radiated heat, scorching against his death-cold skin.
“How do you know my name vampire?” demanded Barnes from his place several paces away. He had not eased his stance or lowered his gun despite how effectively he was trapped beneath the silver.
“George and Lucy know you,” he wheezed.
He answered immediately, because resisting would get him nowhere. He was a vampire, and this Inspector was from DSRAC. There was only one way this could end. If he could get them to talk for long enough, maybe he could send them in search of his friends. He had nothing left but to hope that DSRAC could succeed where he had failed.
His answer though, did not seem to go over well with the Inspector. He heard the stutter of their heart, and creek of muscles straining not to lash out. The leather grip groaning under the strain of the Inspectors grip.
“What did you do with Carlyle’s body?” growled the Inspector.
“What?”
“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH CARLYLE’S BODY!” they yelled.
A cold pit opened in his stomach. “No,” he wheezed, “She’s not…she can’t be!” He moved without thinking. The silver net trapping him pressed harshly into the skin of his now exposed hand. He almost did not notice as it sizzled worse than a 3rd degree burn. Almost. He flinched back, hiding his hand away under his coat again. “She can’t be.”
“Don’t try and play that game with me vampire. Karim told us everything,” snarled the Inspector.
He froze at the harsh words. “George told you?” he asked in a startled whisper. “You’ve seen George?”
The inspector took a menacing step forward. “I’m the one asking the questions here, vampire. Answer me quickly, and I’ll put you out of your misery.”
“George told you about me?” he asked anyway.
He heard the Inspectors pulse jump with his agitation. “Yes,” snarled the Inspector.
“But…he wouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, speaking more to himself than the Inspector. “Why would he have done that?”
“Enough, vampire!”
How could the Inspector have spoken with George? He knew for a fact that vampire servants had kidnapped him. George would never have gone with them willingly, especially not as Lucy was there too.
But how did those servants know about Lucy’s veinous magic? How had they known the correct type of magical bind to use on her? George had gone through her mapping with her – he would have known. But he never would have told them. Right?
And then he knew. He dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut. The smell of dank earth invaded his senses, overpowering and all-encompassing. Silver pressed down on him from above with the promise of fire and death.
“No, George, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. He knew if his body still had water to lose, he would be crying by now. “Lucy’s vision…I should have known…I should have seen…I failed you George, I’m so sorry…”
There was no sound from anywhere else in the room. He was alone with his agony. It now extended so far beyond the pain caused by his silver-burns.
“What are you going on about? What vision did Lucy have?” asked the Inspector.
He was not paying the Inspector any attention anymore though. “It was never the future…it’d already happened…I never should have left them! This is my fault…”
“What is your fault? Vampire! Answer me!”
“George, I’m so sorry…”
“Lockwood!” bellowed the Inspector.
He jumped at the use of his name, only to hiss in pain again as the silver touched skin. He hunched in on himself, hiding away from his shame.
“What happened to George? What is your fault?” demanded the Inspector.
“He’s enthralled.”
Water dripped from somewhere unspeakable in the background. The stale air stank of rot and decay.
“No he’s not. I’ve spoken with him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then enlighten me.”
He tried to gather his thoughts even as the silver tried desperately to whisk them away from him. “It’s a blood-locked thrall,” he wheezed, “It has to be.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Lucy’s vision, it wasn’t about George being turned,” he said, loosing the thread of the conversation again. “Fairfax wasn’t turning him; he was feeding him his blood so he could lock his thrall and allow George to keep his mind.”
“Fairfax?”
That was not the voice of the Inspector. He had almost forgotten the woman who was also there with them.
The Inspector had other concerns. “This is possible? For a vampire to enthrall a person, without robbing them of themselves?”
“That has to be it…George would never have sold Lucy out if his mind was really his own.” But why had he not smelled the difference? If Fairfax had forced George to swallow his blood, his scent would have followed George home. But George did not smell like anything other than himself. Except, the was not quite true, was it? There had been some undertone to his scent he could not place, ever since he returned from Ightham Court. And it was not a scent claim from another vampire. It was not even the normal scent of another vampire that would follow their blood. And Lucy had told him her magic had started to feel off while he was away.
“…the vampire protein…they must have isolated it…that’s why he didn’t smell different…there wasn’t anything to smell…”
“Lockwood,” called the Inspector. He eyed the man sideways, trying not to dislodge the net covering him again. “How many others know about this type of thrall?”
“Fairfax,” he wheezed, “He is the only one.”
He heard the crackle of a radio, and flinched as the sound speared through his frayed mind. The woman that had come with the Inspector stepped outside to answer. She came back with a worried crease between her brows. The silver was scrambling him so much, he could not focus well enough to hear what she whispered in the Inspectors ear.
He watched as the Inspector looked him over with a critical eye. “Where is Lucy Carlyle?” he asked in a toneless voice.
And with that, the panic set in. “Oh, god, Lucy!” He tired to shift, to get out from under this blasted net of silver. But he only managed to burn himself further. He hissed in frustration. “Fairfax has her, and they bound her magic –”
“What would Fairfax want with the both of them together?” aske the Inspector.
The words caused his racing mind to stumble, then stop. Why would Fairfax need the both of them? More specifically, why would he need George to keep his mind? And then he remembered. The vision where George was supposedly turned into a vampire was not the only one Lucy had had about Fairfax and his servants. There was the one where one of the servants from the auction gave him the vial of his own venom.
Fairfax must have recognized his scent. He must have realized he attended the auction himself, in person, despite the warding runes that protected it.
“…He want’s the cure,” he whispered, “That’s why George was pressing Lucy so hard. Fairfax ordered him to get the cure.”
“What’s this? What ‘cure’?”
“How to restore a vampire their soul,” he whispered. “The ability to pass through protection runes unhindered.”
Absolute silence greeted him.
“Would it surprise you to learn…that Lucy Carlyle is allergic to vampire venom?” asked the Inspector in an even voice after a long time.
He whipped his head around to stare at him, ignoring the burning dislodging the silver caused him.
“What!?”
“Carlyle is allergic to vampire venom.”
“No. No!” he yelled. He struggled against the silver containing him, heedless of how it seared his skin now. He had shown her how to move, so that anyone who tried to bite her would miss. But it would not make any difference if she was allergic to the venom. If anyone so much as grazed her with their fangs, she would be paralyzed. “She can’t be allergic – that would mean they’d paralyze her!”
“Inspector! You have to let me go! I have to find her – I have to save her! She won’t be able to do it herself! Not if he bites her; not if he claims her!”
“Please, I beg of you, let me save her!” he cried, “I’ve already failed George. Please, do not let me fail her too!”
Chapter 76
Notes:
Here's the rewind before we get rolling again!
Enjoy! 😁
Chapter Text
Dr. Bowman hated bad news. In his line of work, he got it a lot. He had to give it to others even more. That was always the worst – having to tell someone their loved ones were gone. Sometimes, he had to tell people their loved ones lived, but they would not make it. That was a whole other level of terrible. But someone had to do it. It was often him.
This time, he was the one to receive the bad news. There was a stir in headquarters. It happened every once in a while. Someone would run afoul of a vampire, and pay for it with their life. It always seemed so much worse when it happened to the non-field agents. At least with field agents, you could rationalize that they were out there, doing things. But someone like Lucy? That just meant they had failed.
At least George had made it out. It was not enough – would never be enough. But it was something.
He tried to give the distracted lad a comforting smile when he came in. “Let’s see how your doing, shall we?” he asked.
George did not answer him. He did not expect him too.
His hands were scrapped, but that was it. It was remarkable really – vampires usually did not let witnesses slip thought their net. It made it too easy for DSRAC to attempt to pin them down.
George had no puncture marks, nor bruising from being restrained. Nothing that would point the him having been attacked. He was not confused like he would be if he had been enthralled and then shocked out of it.
He did not like it.
He smiled at the lad again. “You seem to be fine, but there’s one more test I want to do,” he explained. “I’d like to take a blood sample, just to be sure there’s nothing we can’t see wrong. Sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”
He was not even sure why he wanted to do it. To all usual medical knowledge, there was no reason for it. But they had not made him the lead medical officer of DSRAC for nothing. He had a hunch, and he knew better than to ignore it.
George was gone by the time he got back. He was out of the room for 10 minutes, no more. No one had seen him leave. The receptionist at the front desk went on a bathroom break at just the wrong time. No one had called for a cab. Someone had been waiting to pick him up.
He hailed the first agent he saw, and radioed the Inspector. “Yes, Sergeant Wade, it’s Dr. Bowman. We have a problem. George Karim is gone – no one noticed him leave. We don’t know where he went.”
“Were there any of the usual signs of a struggle with a stronger opponent?” questioned the Sergeant through the radio.
“There were not. And he disappeared right after I said I wanted to take a blood sample.”
“I’ll tell the Inspector,” came the Sergeant’s answer.
The radio went dead then, the connection gone. He sighed as it did, then handed it back to the agent standing waiting next to him. It was going to be one of those weeks. He better go back to the clinic and get ready for it.
…
Barnes watched the vampire on the ground keenly. It was never a good idea to let your guard down around an injured vampire – injury made them hungry, and hunger made them aggressive. Only this one was not aggressive.
The vampire did not seem to be…anything. There was none of the usual snarling, or gnashing of teeth. No promises of pain and suffering, or of hunting down everyone he had ever blinked at in his life and slaughtering them in front of him. There was just…nothing. He understood how sharp-minded Karim could have missed what this one really was. He would have missed it, if not for the reaction to the silver.
This one answered questions. That was new too. Most of them just sneered at you, baring fangs and snarling.
The vampire seemed genuinely upset at the idea of Carlyle being dead. It was the most reaction they had gotten out of him thus far. There was nothing normal about that. He would not be upset if he had been the one to kill her, and clearly the silver was having a strong enough effect that he would be having trouble faking anything right now.
At the mention of Karim, the vampire seemed both relieved and devastated in equal measure. Not angry. Not vengeful. This was no normal vampire. Not a single one of his reactions were standard.
The vampire spoke of Karim as a friend would. As someone who had worried for their friends safety, only to find out they had betrayed you to your worst enemy. If this was an act, he was very annoyed with it.
The more the vampire talked, the more he realized it was not, in fact, an act. This was real. This vampire considered Karim a friend; not just a servant, not just a tool. A friend. Carlyle obviously was one too. In fact, it almost seemed like to him, Carlyle was more than that. That certainly had not happened before.
“Carlyle is allergic to vampire venom,” he stated in an even voice. And then he watched the fallout – the absolute panic the statement caused. Panic, and no fangs. Nothing.
“Please, I beg of you, let me save her! I’ve already failed George. Please, do not let me fail her too!” begged the vampire. They begged. No, this was certainly not a normal vampire.
…
Lockwood let his pleas hang in the air, hopping. Please let me go, please, PLEASE, let me go after her.
“How have you failed Karim vampire?” asked the Inspector. “Why don’t you want to save him too?”
He slumped under the chains. He could feel the heat of the silver starting to work its way through the material of his greatcoat. There would be nowhere for him to hide in just a few more minutes.
“I do,” he panted, “Normally, I could break any thrall…but I can’t – it’s blood-locked. George is…he’s gone. There is nothing I can do…”
“Then tell us where to find this ‘Fairfax’. Killing him will release George.”
“…No, it won’t…”
“Oh?”
“He’ll die.”
“That’s not how that works,” insisted the Inspector.
“For a normal thrall, it isn’t,” he breathed. “George isn’t under a normal thrall. If you kill Fairfax, whatever it is of Fairfax’s in George’s blood will turn to dust. He’ll have a hemolytic reaction. It’ll kill him, and you won’t be able to stop it.
“There is nothing I can do for George. But please, let me save Lucy. I swear to you; I will hand myself in to your mercy once she’s safe. I won’t resist.”
The Inspector watched him with sharp eyes. The Sergeant stared at the back of his head, waiting for his decision. He felt the heat of the silver chains start to sting his back.
…
Lucy did not know how long she was in that metal box. She did know that they stopped at some point, not long after they got going. Nobody had come for her – she had no idea what it was about.
It was hours latter when she finally heard someone unlocking the box. The second the lock clicked, she threw herself against the door. It flew open, and she heard someone curse as it smashed them in the face. She had one glorious second of freedom before several people sized her from every angle. She kicked and screamed and did everything she could to get away.
They were no longer in London, but somewhere out in the countryside. A large, foreboding manor house sat primly in the middle of an immaculate lawn and garden. There was nothing else around for as far as the eye could see.
A sack was forced over her head, and someone picked her up to carry her into the building frowning down at them. It did not mute her struggles at all – only amplified them. She had no chance to see George anywhere.
They carried her for a long time, somewhere underground and out of sight. She only knew that because of the change in the air. It grew dank and smelled of moisture. Suddenly, the person carrying her dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, whipped off the sack covering her face, and then shoved her through the open doorway in front of them. She sprawled out on the floor as the heavy door swung shut behind her.
“LET ME OUT!” she screamed, pounding on the door. It had no handle on the inside.
Several harsh laughs sounded outside in the hall.
“All in good time, little girl!” cat-called one of them. “You’ll get to meet His Lordship, don’t you worry!”
The people outside burst into laughter once again. The sound faded as they presumably left the way they had come.
She continued to pound on the door for some time after that to no avail. Eventually, she gave it up, and took in her surroundings. Her cell could have been a nice hotel room in another situation. The bed looked plush – warm and soft. The walls were paneled in aromatic cedar, covering the moldy smell of the basement nicely. On one wall was a shower stall, toilet and sink – a hanging screen ready to pull across and cordon them all off from the rest of the room. The wall facing her had a floating wooden desk. There were no pens or pencils in sight. Shaped too much like a weapon.
Chapter 77
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“For arguments sake, say I let you go. What would you do? How would you find Carlyle?” asked the Inspector.
Sizzling sounds filled the air as the silver chain net finally worked its influence through the layers of fabric covering Lockwood’s skin. “I’d go to the same place I escaped from, 360 years ago. Combe Carey Hall, in Berkshire.”
Barnes lowered his weapon cautiously.
…
10 paces wide. 6 deep. This tiny room was her world now. There was no window. No handle. Only a single round light in the middle of the ceiling to provide light. She did not even have her own switch.
Gingerly, she sat on the end of the bed furthest from the door, and started trying to pry the binder off her wrist. Getting her magic back was her best chance of getting out of here. Flo made sure she knew spells to help her if she ever got into a situation like this. The only thing she achieved with that was becoming very aware of the spike digging into her skin underneath the band.
Her head hurt. She could not feel her magic – not in her core, nor in her veins. She was empty, and cold, and scared. And George was bad. At least…there was something attached to George that was making him bad. She only caught a glimpse. But it was enough. George was not himself.
She only had two big questions she wanted answers to; what did they want from her? And where was Lockwood in all this?
…
Hours latter – she had no idea how many – she heard noises in the hall outside her door. A group of people were coming her way. She hoped there was not a vampire amongst them.
When she heard the sounds of someone unlocking her door, she flattened herself against the wall next to it. It swung open outwards – giving her no place to hide from the person coming in.
She scowled as she saw their face. Joseph. Just behind him, she saw another man holding a tray of food. Joseph frowned as he looked into the apparently empty room. “Are you sure we got the right door?” he asked over his shoulder. “No ones in here.”
She rammed her shoulder into his gut. He bowled over backwards, almost knocking the tray of food right out of the other guy’s hands. She pounced forwards, intending to ram that guy too before making a break for it. A hand clamped over her shoulder and jerked her backwards before she got the chance.
She felt the sting of needle plunging into her neck at the same second she managed to kick the guy now holder her squarely in his goods. They both yelped and then dropped to the floor in unison.
Whatever was in that injection caused a spark to form in her core. She recognized it carried an enchantment to make her tired and weak a split second before the bind on her wrist came to life and yanked the sensation away. She screamed at the feeling of claws digging through her core before smothering any evidence of that single spark.
“Ow,” groaned someone else around her. She was not sure which of these goons it was. She found she did not really care. She tried breathing steadily in an effort to make the room stop spinning.
Someone laughed. “Guess the Lord’s new pet really wasn’t kidding when he said she’d put up a good fight.”
They dragged her back into her cell and dumped her on the bed. At least they did end up leaving her the food on the table. It was nothing more than some bread and cheese, and a cup full of water.
She did not touch it. Far apart from the worry that the food could be laced with something unpleasant – right now, she felt like she was going to throw up.
“My…friend…is going…to be…pissed…when he gets here…” she gasped out as the three goons shuffled once again towards the door.
They all laughed.
“Is that right?” asked one of them archly.
Another round of laughter.
“Yes…” she breathed. “You’ll…be sorry…when he gets…here…”
“Doubt it,” jeered one of them.
“We already know all about your friend,” laughed another. “And I hate to be the barer of bad news, little girl, but he’s not coming to save you!”
“He…will,” she insisted.
More mocking laughter. “He won’t” insisted another. “He’ll be done and dusted by now! DSRAC will have made sure of it!”
A pit settled in her stomach at the news. “…No…”
“Oh, yes!” cackled one of them.
“There’s no way DSRAC will have let him live. Not after your buddy Karim told them he killed you!” jeered another.
The slammed the door shut with a resounding clan as they left, leaving their mocking laughter to echo around her head in their wake.
“…NO!” she chocked. “…no…”
She curled into a ball and wept. She felt awful. Her magic was locked away. She was tired, and sore, and scared.
And Lockwood was dead. DSRAC had killed him, because George had sold them the lie that he had killed her.
It was not like there was a body to prove anything either way.
Not yet, at least.
She tried desperately to peel the magic bind off her wrist. She did not stop, even when a thin rivulet of blood started running down the inside of her wrist.
…
The moon was high in the sky as a white breasted bird flew as fast as the wind could carry it towards Berkshire. Combe Carey Hall stood imposing and black against the midnight blue sky, blotting out the stars behind it and dimming the ones that glittered around it.
The bird flew past the building without noticing. A hundred yards away sat the edge of the woods. That was where the bird headed. Deep beneath the broughs of the trees was an old wooden door. The bird circled the woods until it found an overgrown mound.
The bird flew straight towards the ground, and shifted in mid air. Lockwood’s feet landed firmly in the place the bird had been. But the landing was not that graceful. He staggered at the impact, and stumbled sideways into a tree. The red marks of silver burns littered his exposed skin.
He took a moment to gather his strength, then moved towards the mound in front of him. He pushed aside the clinging vines to reveal a heavy old door, half rotted away. He gazed at it for one long, hard moment, then squared his shoulders and raised his chin. The door crumbled to dust at his touch, and he disappeared into the rough tunnel that delved into the bowels of the earth that lay beyond.
Notes:
Cue the Mission Impossible music!
🤣😁
Chapter 78
Notes:
Grab your popcorn and your comfort blanket folks, we're getting into the last half-hour of the movie! 🙂🍿
Chapter Text
The potion or whatever they injected her with eventually did make her throw up from sheer nausea. At least she managed to drag herself over to the toilet before she upchucked; all she had to do to clean up was tug on the handle to flush the toilet.
She lost her battle with wakefulness when she dragged herself back to the bed. Sleeping was dangerous, but she could do herself no good so long as she felt this awful.
…
She woke to the sound of the heavy metal door to her cell easing open with a quiet squealing creak. Someone must have turned off her light for her, because when she opened her eyes, it was to find a blackness so complete she could not see her hand in front of her face.
The lights in the hallway outside her room were dimmed, but not off. Still, they sliced through the pitch black of her cell to paint the doorway against the wall. A tall shape blocked the light. A man’s form. She could not see the face.
She heard them breath in deeply, as if scenting the air. The rational part of her mind that was slowly waking up supplied the reason for her – vampire. The shadow rushed forward suddenly, and she reeled back.
“Lucy,” breathed a voice she knew by heart.
She froze in position, eyes wide. “What?” she asked, hoping she was not wrong. Hoping her ears were not deceiving her – hoping Lockwood really was here.
He took another step forward, and the light from the hall fell across his face to reveal his features. She collapsed with a sob onto the bed in her relief. “Lockwood!” she sobbed, “They told me you were dead!”
She launched herself into his arms as he came towards the bed and sobbed into his shoulder. She used him to muffle the sound – part of her still aware that they needed to stay unnoticed.
“I’ve got you Luce. It’s alright. I’m going to get you out of here,” he whispered into her ear. “Thank god, no one’s claimed you.” He pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, a furrow in his brow.
“Lockwood…”
“They gave you something, didn’t they?” he asked as he eyed her. “You’re favouring the right side of your neck.”
Without any other prompting he pulled back the collar of her shirt to have a look. His fingers brushed over the spot the needle had gone in. She felt a small flake of blood peel of as he did. It felt heavy and sore the way your shoulder always does after getting the flu shot for the year.
“It was to make me weak and tired,” she breathed. The nausea she originally felt had mostly faded by now, but she was still tired and loose-limbed.
Lockwood frowned at her. “How could you know that?” he asked softly.
“Enchantment,” she answered, “my magic told me…it hurt.”
“Oh, Luce. I was right then – they bound your magic.”
“…I can’t get it off…”
“Let me see,” he asked.
She offered up her wrist for him to inspect. A moment of silence stretched as he turned it over in his hands. “Luce,” he breathed as he lifted his eyes back to her face. “This is held closed with a fanglock.”
She blinked blearily at him. “I…want it off,” she whimpered.
“I can get it off,” he continued, still watching her. “Lucy, do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. She did not even need to think about it.
“Alright,” he sighed, “Just stay still, ok? I won’t hurt you – I promise. Just please, don’t panic.”
“I trust you,” she whispered as she listed into his side.
He swept his eyes over her one last time, then turned his focus to her wrist. A shadow of teeth growing impossibly longer was cast upon the wall. Lockwood bent over her wrist and carefully slotted his fangs into the lock before biting down, hard.
A click sounded. She suddenly felt the sting in the absence of the prong stabbing into the flesh of her wrist. Lockwood held her arm steady in both hands as he pulled back from the bite and retracted his fangs. The binding charm fell away from her wrist in two halves that were promptly pushed under the bed.
She gasped in fresh air as they did. Her magic slammed into her skin. It was a swirling, contradictory mass of danger, run, and safety, calm. The two warring halves of being safe in Lockwood’s presence, and in danger because of where they were.
She blinked the cloudiness from her eyes as Lockwood hauled her to her feet. Though she leaned against him for support, she was pleased she did not shake or stumble.
“Luce, are you alright?” he asked, his voice intense.
“I…think I’m fine now,” she answered.
“Alright, good. I have to get you out of here, come, we need to –”
“Wait!” she whisper-yelled, tugging him back. “Lockwood, they have George to! But they’ve done something to him –”
“I know,” rumbled Lockwood. “Lucy, I’m sorry, but…George is enthralled.”
“Then we have to wake him up! You can do that, can’t you?”
“Luce,” heaved Lockwood, “Normally, I could. But not this time. It’s a blood-locked thrall. There is no waking him up. I’m sorry Luce…George is gone.”
A cold feeling spread through her for an entirely new reason now. “No, that can’t be,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry Lucy, but we have to go. I have to get you to safety – to DSRAC. They should already be on their way.” He made to pull her towards the door.
“NO!” she snapped suddenly, refusing to move. “We have to help George!”
“Lucy –”
“I’m not leaving without him!” She dug in her heels as Lockwood continued to try pulling her towards the door. “When they took me, I saw George wrapped in some kind of controlling darkness. Maybe I can break –”
“Lucy, this is too dangerous,” insisted Lockwood, “I have to get you to safety.”
“But I might be able to save him!”
“Exactly,” he growled, “You ‘might’ be able to. Lucy, a thrall is not a spell. There may be nothing even you can do.”
“I have to try,” she pleaded, “It’s George. Please, let me try.”
Lockwood pulled her in closer and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezed closed. “One chance,” he breathed. She smiled. “You get one chance, Luce, and then I’m getting you out of here. George or no.”
“That’s all I need.”
“Stay close to me,” he ordered. “I know where to go. I caught George’s scent on the way to find you.”
…
Lockwood did not hesitate in where to go as she kept a hold of the back of his jacket. They wound unerringly through rough-hewn underground tunnels, around corners and up a few different flights of stairs.
Every so often, other passages would branch off from their rout, or heavy metal doors would spring up out of the darkness. She hoped there was no one in those. Lockwood paused to scent the air and listen for any other footsteps at every intersection before moving quickly on.
Eventually, the reached a staircase that smelled less like dirt and moisture. Lockwood paused at the bottom of it for a long second. She thought she felt the faintest tremor run through him, but then he was moving forward.
“Stay quiet now,” he warned as they mounted the stairs. “The door at the top of these stairs leads to where George is.”
“How do you know what’s up there?” she asked as she watched his shoulders tense.
He did not say anything for a few stairs, then, “I know, because that room is the first place I woke as a vampire.”
The door came into view. It looked more like a normal storm door than any of the others they had passed. Lockwood motioned for her to stay quiet as they came to the landing before the door. She could hear muffled voices from the other side. From the look on Lockwood’s face, he was able to tell what was being said.
“George is definitely in there,” he breathed in her ear, “But there’s someone else with him. It’s just another human though.”
He carefully turned the handle of the door and eased it open a tiny fraction. The crack allowed her to hear what was going on inside too.
“…is not going to wait for forever for you to finish your research,” she heard an unfamiliar voice sneer.
“If Lord Fairfax wants to risk doing it now and ending up having to deal with a botched casting, he can be my guest,” snarked George back.
“You insolent little –”
“I don’t see how making sure nothing goes wrong when the spell is cast on Lord Fairfax can be classified as insolence,” stated George in his familiar dismissive tone.
A heavy silence followed. “Just make sure you don’t take too long,” snapped the other person.
They heard footsteps and then the opening and closing of a door. George audibly sighed. “Finally. Now I’ll actually be able to get some work done.”
Lockwood eased the door back closed cautiously. He mouthed the question of if she was close enough to try breaking whatever was controlling George.
She gave him a half shrug, then closed her eyes and reached with her magic. It felt strained and thready as she reached out. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She would never be able to get a good enough hold on whatever it was like this. She opened her eyes, tapped on Lockwood’s sleave to get his attention again. At the small shake of her head, he sighed before drawing himself up and setting his shoulders with a determined air.
“Don’t move until I tell you to,” he ordered, then motioned for her to step back out of the way of the door. He eased it open a crack again to take in the lay of the land. She caught a glimpse of the back of George’s head as he sat at an enormous old oak desk, working away. It looked like they would have a clear shot to get to him.
Lockwood hovered there on the threshold for a long moment. When he moved, he made full use of his faster speed. She blinked and the door was suddenly wide open. Lockwood had grabbed George and hauled him out of his chair, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth to cut off the rest of his startled shout. He used his weight and his greater strength to haul George to a clear space in the floor, and then immobilize him in a kneeling position on the ground.
“Lucy, if there is anything you can do, you need to do it now. We do not have long.”
She rushed forward and skidded on her knees to a stop in front of the pair. George’s eyes had gone wide at hearing Lockwood speak. He struggled mutely in his grip, but Lockwood had made sure he could not move an inch.
She took a deep breath, then pressed her palm to George’s chest, over his heart.
‘Yes, touch him,’ she felt resonate through her magic.
Whistle, rustle, howl, hissing steam, bellowing wind. She felt the presence of those chains once again. They circled George’s whole body, but his mind the most. Every link was solid and heavy as black granite. They squeezed him so tightly; they must have left indents in his soul. But she could not think about it that way – like it was irreversible – because then it would be.
She pushed and shoved the links aside. They did not attack her at the disturbance as she expected. But they did resist her just as strongly as any black magic she had worked on.
Control, bind, do not disturb. The sensations radiated off it all. She tried to push through it, to find what undelay all that. Your will is mine. But it’s not, because he can still think for himself. Share my curse, do as I say.
Share the curse…George had been wearing gloves whenever he went into DSRAC headquarters. Every doorknob in the place was silver coated. What if he wore those cotton gloves, not to protect the documents, but to protect his hands from the silver? Lockwood had used gloves to decorate the house for Christmas with silver decorations.
There. A stripe of throbbing black power ran up George’s centre like a living tumour. She sank hissing steam and blinding light into the lowest portion of it. It pulsed like a living, slimy leech, boating as it sucked George’s blood. She dug her heat and steam as deep and she could under the mouth, and yanked.
Chapter 79
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
She fell backwards in a heap as she gasped back to awareness.
“Lucy!?” called Lockwood’s concerned voice.
George had gone rigid in his hold with half-lidded eyes. Lockwood eased his grip in concern, and then George lurched sideways. Just in time too – as he landed, George retched, vomiting up a yellow-tinted liquid that smelled like rotting flesh. He heaved and heaved, bringing up more of the substance until nothing but clear liquid came out.
Lockwood caught him before he could collapse into the pool of sick. Quick as a flash, he had George in a recovery position between them, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on George’s neck.
“Lucy, are you alright?” asked Lockwood as he glanced up at her.
“Yeah,” she said shakily. Her fingertips tingled and her skin felt hot. That…was more magic than she had used at once in a while. But she was not shaking, and she had not heard the crack of lightning in her magic, nor the smell of ozone, so she knew she had not completely overdone it.
George panted shallowly for several heartbeats before his face scrunched. He blinked up at them with cloudy eyes. “L…Lockwoood…Lucy?” he wheezed, “What…where…what’s going –”
Lockwood tried to hold George still as he worked himself into a frenzy in his confusion.
“What’s happening?” she worried, “Lockwood, what did I do? What’s happening to him?”
“It’s alright,” soothed Lockwood, speaking to both of them at the same time. “Luce, you did it – you brought him back. The confusion is a good sign. It means it worked, that the control is gone.”
“Where…am I? What…what’s happening?” stuttered George in a frantic tone she had never herd before.
“George, calm down, it’s alright,” reassured Lockwood, “We’ve got you. Just calm down.”
But George did not appear to be listening. He started fighting Lockwood’s hold in a kind of daze, movements sluggish and weak. “Where…where am I?” he wheezed.
Lockwood pressed him back into a laying position when he tried to sit up. He shifted his stance behind George’s back and grabbed his neck from behind, pressing down hard with his thumbs.
“What are you doing?” she fretted as George’s lethargy seemed to grow worse before he stilled.
“Using pressure points on his neck to calm him down,” explained Lockwood in a soft voice. “Easy George, just relax. It’s alright.”
Tremors ran through him as he shakily grabbed fists-full of his own hair. “…my head…it hurts…”
“Lockwood?”
“Easy Goerge. Lucy, it’s alright. A sever headache is normal for being snapped out of thrall. He’ll be ok.” He dropped his eyes back to Georges trembling form. “I’ll have to carry him out of here; Lucy, are you going to be ok walking on your own?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He nodded absently while rearranging George so he could get a better grip. “Keep hold of my jacket anyway, so I know you’re not falling behind.”
She conceded without any fuss. They were still in danger so long as they were here. She might feel mostly fine, but George clearly needed medical attention. They had to get out of there, fast.
But before they could, Lockwood froze, a dark look passing over his face. In the blink of an eye, he was standing feet from them in a defensive pose. He faced a different part of the room she had previously paid no attention to, fangs bared.
Slow clapping of a single pair of hands grew closer before emerging into the room with them. “Well, well,” simpered a mocking voice to match the clapping. “That was a very good show you just gave.”
An older gentleman with greying hair wearing a crisp, pinstripe suit sauntered into the room. His face was split in a wide-mouthed sneer, overlong incisors on full display.
“Keep away from them!” growled Lockwood fiercely. He stood squarely between them and the new-comer. His feet were planted firmly, with shoulders thrown back and hands balled into fists at his side. “Lucy,” he hissed under his breath, “Take George and go. Now.”
“Come now,” called the other vampire, “Don’t you want them to meet your old friend?”
“You are no friend of mine, Fairfax. Step back!”
Sardonic laughter rang through the room. “Oh look, the little toothless Rampager is barking and growling in an effort to scare off the mean neighbors.” Fairfax gave a sinister smile with too many teeth that were much too long. “I must admit, I’m a little impressed with you though. How ever did you manage to slip away from DSRAC? It looks like they did quite the number on you.”
She paused in her dragging of George’s unresponsive form towards the further door to really look Lockwood over. She let out a startled gasp when she noticed what Fairfax was talking about. Every inch of Lockwood’s pale exposed skin was criss-crossed with angry red burns. In the gloom of the tunnels, she had not seen them.
Lockwood however, was not phased by the other vampire’s taunts. He gave Fairfax a brilliant, smile, showing off his fangs. “Funny you should mention that,” he drawled. He dug in his coat pocket for a moment, then brought out a little round disk about the same size and shape as a roll of Sellotape. In the centre of it was a flashing light.
Fairfax went tense at the sight of it.
“I left that encounter with more than one souvenir, you see,” explained Lockwood lightly, tossing the little disk before catching it a few times. “DSRAC knows exactly where we are,” threatened Lockwood, suddenly menacing, “And they know what they’ll find when they get here. It doesn’t matter what happens between us – your coven is finished. DSRAC will make sure of it.”
Fairfax’s shock only lasted a moment before he snarled angrily. “Fine then,” he snapped, “If I can’t have your ‘cure’, then I’ll just have to settle for the magical feast you’ve brought to me.”
She blinked, and the two vampires were fighting. Fairfax looked physically more muscled and stockier than Lockwood, but by the way they were grappling, it looked as if Lockwood was the stronger of the two.
“You couldn’t save Annabel Ward 300 years ago!” screeched Fairfax, “You won’t save this girl now!”
Fairfax snapped and snarled at Lockwood, aiming for his chest. Lockwood was too fleet of foot for it to make a difference. Before she knew it, Lockwood had gotten a hold of Fairfax and launched him across the room. The larger man crashed into a bookcase that shook with the impact, raining old leather-bound books on his head. He swatted them away with an animalistic snarl.
“I am not the frightened child I was then, with no idea what he was,” growled Lockwood. He fell into a ready stance she recognized from their bouts of sword practice. “You may have become a daywalker that night, but I am more powerful than you! You will not touch her!”
She blinked and they were back to trading blows. She watched them with a frightened kind of awe. The differences between them now more stark than ever. Fairfax snapped and snarled and gnashed his teeth like a rabid dog. His movements were brutal and uncoordinated. Lockwood bared fangs as a threat. His every move was calculated and precise - no more force than necessary. Fairfax clashed against Lockwood again, and again, only to be rebuffed each time by Lockwood’s superior skill.
“…make it stop…it’s too loud…my head…” moaned George from the floor at her feet.
She snapped back to attention, remembering now that she really needed to be getting out of there – and taking George with her. Before she could grab him and start hauling him backwards towards the door they came in through, the building shook with the force of an explosion.
The resultant shockwave sent the two vampires staggering in opposite directions. Fairfax tripped and fell flat on his butt; Lockwood staggered into a piece of furniture and careened sideways towards the ground.
Lockwood snorted in laughter. “Looks like you’re too late,” he sneered at Fairfax. “DSRAC is already here.”
“We’ll see about that!” growled Fairfax.
She blinked, and then there was a chest in front of her. She tried to kick out, but Fairfax already had her pinned in his arms. She had a split second of looking into his hollow eyes before he let out a hissing sound and his fangs sank towards her neck.
She did not panic. Lockwood had taught her what to do. She flinched at the last second – just enough that Fairfax’s fangs would miss the veins in her neck. They sank frighteningly easy into her flesh, and she screamed. She had one glorious moment of floaty euphoria, then her magic exploded in terror. Her body stopped functioning. She became nothing more than a dead weight in Fairfax’s hold.
“NO!” yelled Lockwood.
Fairfax snarled in annoyance at missing his mark. He shifted to pull out, and his chin brushed against the chain she wore around her neck – the healing charm necklace Lockwood had given her. The one made of silver.
Fairfax ripped his fangs out of her neck as he howled in pain. Lockwood appeared over his shoulder, and then he was flying across the room. Fairfax slammed into the top of the oak desk. It groaned before splintering down the middle with a frightening splitting sound.
She dropped to the floor next to George’s cowering, disoriented form. She struggled to breathe. She could not move.
Lockwood sprang over to where Fairfax was only just picking himself up, and slammed him face down onto what remained of the desk. He heaved in breaths, vibrating with his anger, but stopped.
She could hear Fairfax laughing again. “Stronger than any vampire I’ve ever met, and still you’re just as pathetic as you were then. She is mine now!” he taunted in a sing-song voice.
Yelling voices sounded in the hall beyond the door Fairfax had come in from. Scuffles of some sort were happening out there too. Fairfax did not seem to notice as he continued to taunt Lockwood.
“I have my claim. You can’t touch her now, not unless you kill me. And we both know you’re not going to do it.”
“I will do what I have to to protect them,” declared Lockwood.
Fairfax managed to push Lockwood off him. He made a dive for Lockwood’s chest – straight for his heart. Lockwood snarled, and set his stance, ready to take the blow. The door to the hall flew open. A gunshot sounded in the room. Fairfax howled in pain. Momentarily distracted, he turned from Lockwood to the newcomers. Another gunshot. Fairfax exploded into dust, revealing Inspector Barnes marching into the room, weapon still raised. Wade, as ever, only two steps behind him, covering his back.
Notes:
*fans myself with my hand*
Who-damn. I think I just lost a couple years off my lifespan from the stress of that one guys.
*continues fanning myself frantically*
😱😁
Chapter 80
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lockwood hovered on the precipice of tension for a single drawn out moment. The dust that was the only thing left of Fairfax drifted in eddies towards the floor. Finally, he let himself collapse to the ground. His body heaved for air, even though he did not actually need it anymore. DSRAC was here now. It was over.
“…Lo..Loc…ood,” stuttered Lucy’s desperate voice.
His head snapped up at the sound. Fairfax had managed to bite her, and she is allergic to vampire venom. The paralysis would have fully gripped her by now. He could hear her breaths stuttering – the muscles not wanting to function.
“Lucy!”
“Stay where you are!” ordered the Inspector from his place over by the door. He took several measured steps into the room, watching him with suspicious eyes. “If you move, I’ll shoot.”
“Loc…!” wailed Lucy’s voice, cut too short as she continued to struggle.
George continued to wheeze in his confusion and pain, unaware of anything else.
He raised his hands in surrender, casting them a desperate look. “You have to help them! Fairfax managed to bite Lucy – I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. The paralysis, it’s affecting her diaphragm muscles! She’s struggling to breathe! And George, he, he needs help!”
George might have been too out of it, but Lucy clearly was not. She knew exactly what was happening – that he was now a known vampire in the same room as an armed DSRAC Inspector. He could hear her heartrate spiking in anxiety, her struggle to call out to him despite how little air she could get.
“You have to help them! Help her! She can’t breathe!”
Barnes nodded at Wade who stowed her weapon immediately and went to the two humans to check them over. She quickly passed over George – clearly in need of help, but not in any serious danger at the moment, then came to Lucy.
She stood quickly and sent a nod to Barnes.
“Go, get the medics,” ordered Barnes. Wade cast one last suspicious look his way before taking off the way they had come. Barnes continued to watch him. “I heard some of what that other vampire said.”
Lockwood waited for what was to come next.
“He bit Carlyle, so you couldn’t touch her unless you killed him.”
“Yes,” he breathed. He heard Lucy continue to struggle. They could hear her gasping for breath. “Luce,” he called, “Listen to me; you have to calm down. You’re only making it harder for yourself to breathe. Just hold on a little longer, help is coming.”
Barnes continued to frown at him. They stared at each other for a long moment. He, of course, did not need to breathe. It looked like the Inspector was not either. “You did not want to kill him,” stated Barnes, watching him. “You were challenging him for Carlyle, and you did not want to kill him.”
“I swore to myself I wouldn’t do anything like that a long time ago,” he murmured.
Barnes watched him. He waited for the trigger to be pulled. “I will ask only one thing, Inspector. Just, make sure they’re safe.”
Sounds came from Lucy, as if she was trying to speak but could not find the breath to.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Barnes lowered his weapon. He stowed it away in its holster, still watching him with a frown on his face. Without taking his eyes of him, Barnes dug in a pocket, drawing out a couple things he then tossed to him.
Surprised, he caught the items. Immediately he recognized one as an identification stone. It blazed with a greenish-blue light – the colour associated with the magic of shifters like him. He looked from the stone to Barnes. The Inspector was watching it, his expression unfathomable.
Barnes’ eyes jumped to his face, then pointedly stared at the other object in his hand. He looked at it too. It turned out to be a permanent marker wrapped in a piece of paper with a rune mark he had never seen before sketched on it.
“Draw that rune on yourself somewhere visible, but easily hidden,” ordered Barnes.
He shot a questioning look towards the Inspector. He huffed at him in his impatience. “Well? Do it now! Before anyone else gets here.”
He drew the rune on the inside of his wrist, then crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it into the lit grate just off to the side.
“Do not move,” warned the Inspector as he stepped towards him. When the medics finally came for Lucy and George, it was to find him handcuffed and held by the Inspector. Handcuffed, in regular steel. Like he was human.
…
Lockwood paced the length of the cell they threw him in. He could hear the wailing and cursing of the captured vampire servants from down the hall – he had this little section all to himself. The bars holding him in were made of steel without any silver plating. This, this was a cell made for containing humans.
He did not know what the Inspector was playing at. He was covered in silver burns. There was no way anyone could mistake him for human, not even the agents at this DSRAC outpost. And yet, here he was.
Lucy, he knew, would have been sent back to the London headquarters by now. A small outpost like this would not be equipped to deal with her sever allergic reaction to vampire venom, rare as it was.
It was possible George was still here. Something told him though; the Inspector would want to have his own people looking after the both of them.
Hours passed him by. Eventually the vampire servants’ protests and pleas died down. No one here was going to pay them any attention. Every last one of them would be sent off to high security DSRAC prisons scattered around the country. They would spend the rest of their lives there; DSRAC always made sure of it.
DSRAC also always made sure to kill any vampires they found. Yet here he was, a vampire in a DSRAC prison made for humans. He did not understand.
The sun started to rise outside before anything else happened. Inspector Barnes, Sergeant Wade, and a few other agents or officials he did not know trooped into view. They arranged themselves against the wall opposite him like a jury to an execution already set in stone.
“Inspector! Lucy and George, are they –”
“I have been in contact with the resident surgeon in our London location. He assures me that both Miss Carlyle and Mr. Karim will be able to make full recoveries,” stated the Inspector in a businesslike tone.
He sagged against the bars, sucking in a breath he did not need, but felt he had to take anyway. “Then they’ll be ok,” he whispered in relief.
The gathered assembly watched him with sharp eyes. He glanced over the lot of them curiously before fixing back onto Barnes.
“Karim is showing all the standard signs of confusion or other from having been enthralled by a vampire. I am told as well, that his initial bloodwork came back positive for the vampire protein. One sample was taken when he was in transit to London – another once he arrived at the clinic. The second sample showed a marked decrease in the presence of the protein,” explained Barnes.
He clutched the bars in his relief. While he knew from George’s reaction that Lucy had managed to free him from enthrallment, he had been worried there would be other lasting effects. If the vampire protein in his system was breaking down now that the thrall had been removed; perhaps he had not needed to worry.
“Your story about the vampire known as John Fairfax giving Karim his blood before enthralling him seems to have been proven true,” continued the Inspector. “And yet, you also told me the thrall of a vampire locked with their blood was unbreakable without causing the death of both vampire and victim.”
“I thought it was unbreakable,” he whispered. He gazed out at the rising sun. “Lucy thought otherwise. When I found her, she’d figured out something was wrong with George – she just did not know what. When I told her…she insisted on trying to snap him out of it. She refused to leave unless I let her try. There was a moment…where I was afraid she’d hurt herself trying and still not be able to do it…”
Murmuring broke out amongst the gathered assembly. He had not looked away from the rising sun. In reality, it probably had not taken more than 20 minutes for Lucy to break the thrall on George. But at the time, he sat there watching as her brow furrowed, as she stopped responding to his voice, stopped responding to anything. He smelled the strain she put her magic through grow on her the longer it went on. It took every ounce of control he had not to break her from her trance and insist it was hopeless, just to get her to stop.
“By what avenue were you made aware of such a thing as a blood-locked thrall?” asked one of the unknown DSRAC officials standing in front of him.
He focused back onto the assembly. “I…was captured by Fairfax myself once, a long time ago. One night, he grew angry with the magical he employed to perform experiments for him…I escaped while he was distracted feeding on her. I managed to steal her diary on the way out. A blood-locked thrall…was one of the things she talked about in it.”
“Where is this diary now?” asked another.
“I destroyed it years ago, when I realized how dangerous it would be if word of some of the things in that diary got out,” came his immediate answer. It was a lie – he still had the diary, tucked away in corner of his room at home. But he was not going to tell that to these strangers, DSRAC or no. Yes, the knowledge in that diary would be dangerous in the wrong hands. But destroying it would mean no one could ever learn how to spot the problems it would cause.
The assembly appeared to deliberate with each other for a long moment. Eventually the strangers all seemed to come to an agreement, and nodded at Barnes to continue. Barnes motioned for Wade to move forward. “Sergeant Wade, if you would give him the identification stone to hold now?”
Wade stepped forward with the stone in her outstretched hand. He shot a searching look to the Inspector. His expression gave nothing away.
“Hold out your hand,” demanded Wade.
He did as told. She dropped the stone into his waiting palm. It took a second, but it shone once again with the greenish-blue light of a shifter’s magic. They left it there for everyone gathered to get a good look, then Wade took the stone back.
“What proof do we have he’s really a shifter?” asked one of the strangers. They kept shooting him suspicious looks.
“How do we know this vampire has not just found some way to trick an identification stone?” asked another.
The Inspector held up a hand to silence everyone. He swept his eyes around the room, before fixing him with a penetrating stare. “If you would, provide evidence you are in fact a magical and a shifter.”
He blinked at the order. What was really going on here? What game was this Inspector trying to play?
He shifted into his bird form. The three strangers looked on in shock – one even clutching his heart he was so stunned. He listened to each of their pulses jumping.
“By god Inspector,” muttered the one that had been the least vocal, “I thought you were insane when you suggested this man was a magical and not a vampire. I can hardly believe you were right, but there’s no denying it now.”
“This still does not explain why he’s covered in silver burns,” grumbled another.
He shifted back and watched the proceedings with a sense of dawning understanding.
“Did none of you notice the rune drawn on his wrist?” asked Sergeant Wade archly from her place behind Barnes.
Five sets of eyes probed at him, searching. He did not react as Barnes stepped forward suddenly and grabbed his wrist with the rune, turning it to show everyone gathered. He stared at it for a long time.
“Holly shit,” muttered the one who had already declared his belief in the Inspector’s mad charade.
“Is that what I think it is?” stuttered another.
Barnes fixed him with a harsh look. “Young man, do you have any idea what it is this rune on your skin is for?” he demanded.
“No.”
“It is an ancient and obscure rune used historically by magicals to protect their treasures. It causes a vampiric-like reaction to silver in anyone who comes into contact with it.”
He stared at the Inspector. “What?” he muttered. This was mad, what he was trying to do. All it would take for this ruse to crumble would be someone touching his cold skin, or finding he had no pulse. And yet, it seemed to be working.
“How did you come to have such a rune drawn on your skin?” demanded Barnes. He eyed him in warning.
But he had not managed to live so long without suspicion without picking up a thing or two about how to play a part when it was needed. “…George is a runic scholar, and a very good researcher…”
“Are you suggesting that Karim, while under the influence of a vampires thrall, drew this rune on you?”
“…Yes…” he breathed.
“Why would you allow such a thing when you did not know what the rune was for?”
He stared at the Inspector just as he was being stared at. “He told me it would be safer for me if I did it,” he murmured. “I’d decided to trust him. Only now do I realize it was all a setup.”
Barnes released him and stepped back.
“Well then, I think I’ve seen enough. How about the rest of you?” asked the most amiable of the bunch of strangers.
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Someone should take him to medical and get those burns looked at,” muttered another.
Barnes stepped in immediately and declared he would take him back to London to be seen to there. “He is not in any immediate distress,” declared the Inspector in a voice that broached no argument.
The small-town DSRAC agents all differed to the higher-ranking London official. He was let go. Barnes and Wade stuffed him into the back of their police cruiser and started back to London. He could not help but marvel at how well that had worked.
…
The car pulled off to the side of the road in the middle of a deserted stretch of forest. Barnes turned to give him a hard stare from the front seat on the other side of the divider.
“You are injured, and you’re going to need to feed to recover,” stated the Inspector. “If releasing you is only going to mean you run off and find some innocent to gorge yourself on, I’m cutting off this olive branch right here.”
“I’ve only fed on one human that I can remember.”
Both Inspector and Sergeant gave him suspicious looks.
“I can’t remember the years I was a Rampager,” he muttered, “I know I must have been…a monster…but I can’t remember what I did.”
“If you started as a Rampager, how are you not one now?”
“Fairfax got angry at his magical because she’d started with a Rampager and ‘taken it’s teeth’, as he said. He stared out the window at the towering trees. Some of them could be brothers, just as old as him. “He’d somehow managed to win her heart, and she knew an ordinary vampire would never really be able to return the sentiment. So she found a way to fix that. I was captured, and the magical experimented until she was able to restore my shattered soul.”
The car was silent.
“That’s how you can walk through wards,” muttered Barnes, deep in thought. “Karim keeps making a point of saying the wards do not protect against vampires, but soulless creatures. This is what he meant.”
“I also don’t trigger wards against evil because I do not intend to harm anyone.”
“The question of how you feed still remains.”
“I hunt game in the woods,” he said. “Since I woke with my soul returned, I’ve only fed on a human once. He…was a rapist and murder I caught in the act. I was so indignant…I…I killed him. Brutally. I swore to myself I’d never lose control like that again. I haven’t fed on a human since.”
Notes:
See? All is well! Nobody dusted Lockwood!
ヾ(@⌒ー⌒@)ノ
Chapter 81
Notes:
Fallout time guys, let's see how this goes!
Enjoy! 😁
Chapter Text
Since they were already in a forest, Barnes and Wade let him out of the car to go hunting.
“If I find any reports of a hiker suddenly turning up dead in these woods, I won’t hesitate to kill you,” threatened the Inspector as he stepped out.
He inclined his head in understanding. “Noted, Inspector. But that won’t be necessary.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he muttered under his breath.
If you asked him, that last remark did not appear to be quite true; Barnes may still be suspicious of him, but he was willing to let him go.
To his credit, he managed to find a healthy buck in the woods. He much preferred going after large game. It meant he could feed on them without killing them. He had fed on all kinds of creatures over the years. Everything, down to the smallest field mouse. Those experiences never made him feel any better about himself. A single creature so tiny never had enough blood to satisfy. When they were all he could find, it meant he had to kill too many to feel comfortable with himself.
The Inspector and Sergeant only gave him moderately suspicious looks when he came back. He sighed internally. There would probably be DSRAC agents all over this wood before too much longer.
They continued on their way back to London.
…
They drove him back to the house.
“I am not taking you to DSRAC headquarters,” growled the Inspector before scowling at him. “Even though you’ve already been inside.” He made a face then – clearly having realized something. “I certainly hope Carlyle knew you were the bird before you came with her to the clinic.”
“Lucy figured out the bird she kept seeing following her around was me very early on,” he sighed. “She wanted me there with her.”
Barnes cast him another dark look. “You were following Carlyle before?” he hissed.
He shot the Inspector an annoyed look. “How else do you think I was able to protect her from the two Rampagers that set their sights on her the moment she arrived?” he snapped. “I was the one who told George she had strong magic, and instructed him to inform DSRAC about her. I could sense her from the very first moment she arrived on our doorstep. She was not masking her power at all, so I knew immediately she had no idea how much danger she was in. Every vampire in the city would have been on her if I had not done something.”
The Inspector huffed in annoyance, but seemed to accept his answer anyway.
He hovered on the edge of indecision for a moment before making up his mind. “Inspector,” he called softly, “If you will not allow me on the premises, can I at least be assured you will keep me informed about George and Lucy’s condition? Will you let me know if something happens to them?”
The Inspector watched him for a long time without saying anything. His face gave away nothing. Sergeant Wade simply seemed to wait for his decision, unconcerned. He tried to look as non-threatening as possible.
Barnes sighed. “Yes, fine. Now get out of my sight. I have a mountain of paperwork to get through now, thanks to you,” he grumbled.
“Thank you, Inspector. I appreciate the understanding you’ve shown me, more than I can say,” he enthused, employing the old habits of the high-born and bowing in respect to the Inspector.
Barnes expression did not change, but he heard the flutter than calming of his heart all the same.
…
He passed the day training his swordplay in the basement. The physical exertion was enough to keep his mind off the state of his friends. The phone did not ring once the whole day. He knew. He was listening for it.
It was not until just before dusk that it did. No one was around to see him use his super-speed to get to it before it had finished it’s first ringtone.
“Hello?” he answered, “How are they?”
A heavy sigh came through the line. “You’re lucky it is me,” chastised Barnes. “It could have been anyone calling you.”
“Not really. Neither George nor Lucy are close enough with anyone else to be taking calls from them,” he answered lightly.
Barnes sighed again.
“How are they?” he asked again.
“Carlyle required surgery to repair some minor damage to the musculature in her neck from the bite,” began Barnes.
He clutched the phone in a white knuckled hand. “Is she alright?” he breathed.
“There were no complications, and she is already out of recovery. Has been for more than a few hours now. And she’s been put on a ventilator to help her breathe while the anti-venom works to reduce her paralysis.”
“…Don’t let her wake up like that,” he pleaded, “At least not if she’s alone.”
There was a pause. “Might I inquire as to why?”
“You know why,” he rumbled. “That first time she was abducted by vampire servants, they had her strapped to a table in a room that looked like a doctor’s office. When I brought her to the house after and she woke here, she was initially terrified just because she noticed George holding a first aid kit.”
It had not escaped his notice, any time medical treatment was necessary, Lucy became anxious. She was brave and strong, so it never stopped her for long. But when it came to the more serious procedures, she needed the support of her friends. Of him. Regardless of anything else, she would panic if she woke up at the clinic alone, attached to all those machines.
There was a pause. “Noted,” said Barnes. “I’ll direct the Doctor to take that into consideration for her care.”
“Thank you,” he breathed. If he could not be there for her, the least he could do was ensure the ones that could would know what she really needed. “And George?”
“Karim’s response to being un-enthralled was acute, but he’s experienced no complications either,” stated Barnes. “He’s been sedated and put on fluids to flush out any linger vampire protein from his system.”
He took a few measured seconds to collect himself. “Thank you, Inspector. Please, if you would inform me should there be any change in either of them, I would be grateful.”
“Yes, fine.”
Barnes hung up after that. He stood there staring at the phone for a long moment before hanging it up. They were both in a bad way, but it sounded like they were both also on the mend. He drifted off to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. God, how much he wanted to see for himself that they were ok. To listen to the beats of their hearts and the rhythms of their breathing. To smell the scent of strain fade from Lucy’s magic.
…
The last whisps of light were just fading from the sky outside when he heard someone approach the front door. He grew suspicious when he did not hear a following knock or the clamour of the bell. Instead, he thought he heard someone picking the lock.
He abandoned his empty cup in the sink – he could deal with cleaning dishes later, after dealing with whatever this was – and made his way into the front hall. He was careful not to make any sounds as he took up a leisurely position against the doorframe to the sitting room.
The suspicious scraping continued for long enough to tell him whoever was trying to break in was not a professional. This should be interesting.
Finally, there was a click as the lock disengaged. The person on the other side seemed to pause for a single breathless moment, and then the handle was turning.
He recognized the scent before he saw more that the person’s fingertips wrapped around the edge of the door. It seemed Quill Kipps had come to pay a visit.
Kipps eased the door open quietly. He cast a sweeping look around the street before closing it, taking a deep breath and turning to face the inside. He couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped him as Kipps practically jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of his shadowed form and glittering eyes in the darkness of the hall.
He stopped laughing when a DSRAC issue side arm emerged, barrel being pointed directly at his heart.
“You,” growled Kipps. “I knew I recognized Carlyle’s pet.”
“Well done there, Mr. Kipps,” he sighed, “Now is there any particular reason you’ve broken into my house?” He arched an eyebrow that Kipps likely could not see in the gloom.
Kipps did not move to find a light switch. He would have to take his eyes off him if he did.
“You’re one to talk about breaking into houses,” he snapped, “I should have realized you were a vampire after the second time you turned up in my flat in the middle of the night.” He took a menacing step forward, gun still held at the ready. “I don’t know how you managed to trick Barnes and Wade into letting you live, but it’s not going to work on me.”
“There was no trick, Mr. Kipps,” he sighed tiredly. He allowed himself to stand away from the support of the wall and hunched forward. “I fully expected to be killed, even if I was successful in rescuing Lucy.”
He could hear Kipps’ heart beat frantically. He might be putting on a hard front, but he was barely holding himself together. He knew the man had lost someone he cared about to vampires. This probably would not end well.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you, right now!” snarled Kipps.
He listened to the uncertain pattern of Kipps’ breathing, to the frantic ponding of his heart. “If I can’t?” he asked softly.
“What?” Kipps looked almost confused.
“If I can’t give you a good reason not to kill me?”
Kipps watched him for a long moment. “You’re not even going to try?”
“No,” he sighed, “I don’t think I am.” He cast his eyes into the sitting room. He could just make out the edge of Lucy’s sketchbook, abandoned on the couch. A pile of George’s comic books sitting haphazardly on the table next to it. “I was meant to protect them, and I failed. Both of them. Lucy was kidnapped and bitten by Fairfax. And George, he would have been lost forever if not for Lucy’s tenacity and the strength of her magic, written off as a vampire sympathizer or servant for the rest of his life. Fairfax never would have even known George existed if not for me.”
They were both silent. He waited for the sound of the trigger being pulled. For the shot to ring out. It did not come. He looked back at Kipps, a question in his eyes.
“You really do care about them,” muttered Kipps. He should his head. “How can you care about them, when you’re a Covenist vampire?”
“I’m not a Covenist,” he whispered. “I started as a Rampager. Covenists often work to kill Rampagers just as much, if not more than humans. They draw too much attention. Fairfax…he liked to capture lesser vampires, especially Rampagers, and experiment on them to try increasing his own power. He captured me, for exactly that reason. But the magical he employed for those experiments had her own agenda. She loved him; she knew he was incapable of loving her back, so she tried to find a way to fix that. She managed to restore my soul to me during one of her experiments.”
Kipps stayed quiet. He gave no indication of his thoughts. He could hear the man’s heart continue to race as he struggled with himself.
“I should kill you.”
“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to it if you did. Just promise me one thing first; make sure George knows it was not his fault.”
Chapter 82
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kipps continued pointing the gun at him. Neither one of them moved, nor made a sound. Lockwood stood there listening to Kipps racing pulse and ragged breathing, wondering where this was really going to go. The longer they stood there, the less he believed it would end with him as dust on the floor.
“Karim’s lived here for more than a year,” barked Kipps finally. “I always wondered how he was able to find a place to live all by himself in this neighborhood. What did you want with him?” Kipps eyed him with distrust.
Lockwood considered his answer. Kipps was no friend of vampires – that much was obvious. He had personal scars that turned him against them. How would he react if he knew that the reason he was here, the reason he had contacted George, was to help vampires, to help his sister?
“My soul was restored to me,” he began hesitantly, “But Fairfax killed the magical who managed almost immediately after. The knowledge of how she did it died with her.”
Kipps scowled, his grip on his gun tightening, his pulse jumping higher. “I knew it – this is about you getting a leg up over other vampires. You can walk through protection wards because you have your soul back. You want to make more like you, I won’t let you!”
“Even if the reason I’m doing it is to save my sister?” he asked softly.
Kipps’ rant seemed to screech to a halt. The man blinked at him in confusion several times. “Sister?”
“My older sister was turned the same night I was,” he whispered, “We both became Rampagers. I don’t know how, or why, but we stayed together, and lasted decades longer than we should have before Fairfax captured us. I was the only one to have my soul restored.”
They were both quiet for a time.
“How have you kept a Rampager from going on a killing spree over the last year?”
“My thrall is powerful enough that I can use it on other vampires. I took control, and put her to sleep. She is not a threat so long as she remains that way.”
“How have you kept her alive?” demanded Kipps, looking suspicious. “A year is too long, even for a sleeping vampire to survive without feeding.”
“I feed her my blood, when I know she needs it.”
“And Lucy and George?”
“I’d never do that to them,” he avowed. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. She is not their responsibility. They know nothing of how I keep her alive. Though, I’m sure George suspects.” The mere thought of using either of his friends as blood bags to keep his sister alive was repulsive. He made sure they never saw when he fed Jess – but they had noticed his lethargy afterwards. That was usually when George made a trip to his butcher friend and forced him to feed. Lucy had taken to standing guard over him to make sure he did not run off while George was out.
“How do you feed?” demanded Kipps.
He noticed the man’s grip on his firearm was loosening. “I fly out to the countryside and hunt game.”
“Just animals? Not people?”
“Not people.”
The old grandfather clock in the hall ticked away the time. A nightingale sang as it flew past the street outside.
“If I ever catch so much as a glimpse of needle or bite marks on them –”
“I assure you, Mr. Kipps. If I ever stoop so low as to feed on my friends, I will let you kill me.”
…
Lockwood sat in the kitchen with another cup of tea. Kipps glared at him for a long time, still keeping his defensive stance with the gun, then huffed and left the way he came. It was disconcerting. He could not ever remember having this many living humans who were all aware of his true nature at the same time; three of which were DSRAC field agents.
At least none of them were actual vampire hunters. That was something at least.
…
“It’s a right mess you’ve got on your hands here Locky,” called Flo’s voice from the stairwell. Lacking anything else to do, he had fallen back on sword practice.
He dropped his fighting stance immediately as she came into the room properly. He gave her a tired, close-lipped smile and shrug.
“Don’t know how you managed to squeeze out of this one in one piece,” continued Flo. “Heard that Georgie set Inspector Barnes onto you. Wasn’t expecting to find you still here.”
Though Flo’s stance was casual and mocking, he could hear how her heart was beating faster than normal.
“To be honest Flo, I’m not sure how I made it out either. I was not expecting the Inspector and his right hand to let me go,” he sighed, a far off look in his eye.
Flo eyed him shrewdly. “Locky, Barnsey didn’t just let you go. The whole of DSRAC thinks you’re just a shifter now.”
“I know,” he sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. If he still had the ability to sweat, he knew he had been down here practicing for long enough that it would be standing on end from it. “Have you been to the DSRAC clinic?” he asked after a while. “How are Lucy and Geroge?”
She plopped herself down into the only chair in the room, looking drawn. “Both’re still out,” she breathed. “Girlie’s still on a respirator. Venom hasn’t completely left her system yet. Doc doesn’t want to let Georgie wake up until his bloodwork comes back completely clean.”
“George is still showing signs of the vampire protein then?”
“Barely, but yeah.”
He clenched his hands hard enough the joints creaked.
“Locky, S’not your fault.”
“Fairfax would never have known about them if not for me.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” pointed out Flo, “Wasn’t Fairfax the one who captured you? He knew about the cure. He might have gone for Georgie even without you. And if you hadn’t given Girlie a hand when she first got here, she’d’ve been drained dry a long time ago.”
His muscles tensed at the thought of that, and he turned away. He could not argue with Flo about this – he knew she was right. Lucy had so much magic…if he had not been there to inform DSRAC or protect her himself, she would have been killed by one of those two Rampagers who caught scent of her when she first arrived in the city.
“Flo,” he called after a beat of silence. “Can you make sure neither of them wakes alone?”
Flo waved her hand. “You don’t even need to ask Locky. Poor Georgie’s gonna have a fit when he wakes up and realizes what happened. Girlie too, I’d imagine.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered. “The Inspector had forbade me from the premises; I can’t be there to make sure they’re alright myself.”
Flo went to leave then. She stopped before she mounted the stairs though. “Locky?” she called.
He grunted to show he was listening.
“I’m glad your still around,” she breathed. And then she was gone.
He watched as her feet disappeared from his view. “I just hope Lucy and George share the sentiment.” He went back to his sword practice.
Notes:
See everyone? Kipps didn't dust Lockwood! 😁
Chapter 83
Notes:
I think this'll be the last batch of Lockwood POV for a bit.
Enjoy! ;P
Chapter Text
Flo made sure she was there when the Doctor at DSRAC took George off the sedation.
“He had a right fit,” she told him that night when she came by to give him her report. “It took me a half an hour to convince him you weren’t actually dead.”
He hummed in acknowledgement. He did not know what to do with this information. He knew George would be upset – he had just not realized the depth of his distress. “Make sure he knows I don’t blame him for anything,” he sighed after a moment. “He wasn’t in control of his actions. It’s not his fault.”
“He knows Locky,” sighed Flo. “Georgie’s still workin on believing it though.”
Silence elapsed between them.
“He’s already chompin at the bit you know,” continued Flo to fill the silence. “When I told him how Barnesey covered up your vampirism he practically tried launching himself out of bed to the archives.”
He snorted. “I can imagine. He didn’t have any idea such a rune existed either then?”
“Not a one,” commented Flo. She lounged back in her seat, getting her dirty wellington boots on his footstool again. He knew better than to comment on the mess she always left. Right now, it was kind of comforting. It was tangible proof that someone was still around that thought him a friend.
“Is there any timeline for when the Doctor will be letting him go then?” he asked after a moment.
“Wants to keep Georgie in for another couple days for observation. The new kind of thrall’s spooked the higherups more’n a little.”
“As it should,” he said, eyes on the rosy glow of the sky outside. “It doesn’t matter what they do to cover it up, eventually the wider vampire community will find out about it.”
“Guess it don’t do to try playing the long game against immortal beings, do it?” asked Flo archly.
He grimaced at her. The length of his own life was something he did not like to think about. The number of people he had known and lost…no, it was better not to think about it. Better to focus on what was happening now.
He knew that one day, he would have to fade out of all their lives. Experience told him it was better for them, if he let them stand on their own two feet. If they managed to restore Jess’ soul, he would have to take her away and help her through all the shocks that came with that. He knew what it was like, to wake up as this thing. He had been alone – worse than alone, with responsibilities he could never have imagined. He would be there for her. But she would have to learn how to control her new nature. He would not risk any of them while she was doing that. If they could restore Jess…they would leave.
“How is Lucy?” he asked. The thought of abandoning her hurt more than he could remember any other friendship hurting. No matter how much it hurt…it would still need to be done.
“They took her off the ventilator,” said Flo. She watched him with a piercing gaze. As always, he wondered how much she suspected of his true thoughts. “She’s on oxygen still, but she’s breathing on her own again. Her magic’s still on the fritz, so Doc’s keepin her sedated for now.”
“It’s been three days,” he said suddenly, “Her magic hasn’t calmed down?”
“It’s calmed down some,” amended Flo, “Just not enough yet.”
“That’s not good,” he worried, “If her magic won’t calm down…”
“Doc’s keepin an eye on her, Locky,” placated Flo. “He’s not too worried yet. It might be because she was still aware of what happened back there – her magic might be antsy because she doesn’t know what happened to you or Georgie.”
He shook his head. “She pushed herself too hard trying to break George’s thrall, and after having her magic bound, too. I can’t help but be relieved she did, because it meant we were able to save George…”
“But you still don’t like the strain she put herself through,” finished Flo with a knowing smile.
He gave her an unimpressed look. “No, I don’t. I could smell her magic. I know what it was costing her.”
“Well, no sense cryin over it now, is there?”
“I suppose not.”
…
When George was finally released from the clinic and Flo brought him home, he found himself in a situation he never could have imagined.
“I am…so sorry…I never would have –”
“George,” he cut in, “It was not your fault. And I’m still here.”
The second George came through the door and saw him, he found himself enveloped in a crushing hug. It was something he expected from Lucy, who was just generally a more tactile person. But not from George. He felt much more awkward about this hug than he ever did with Lucy. He patted him on the back somewhat nervously.
Flo took one look at them, then slipped away without George even noticing. He saw her wave goodbye as she left, a soft smile he rarely saw from her gracing her face.
Thankfully, George’s usual aversion to physical affection reinserted itself before too long, and he pulled back. “I still can’t believe that Barnes actually covered for you!” he enthused as he did. “He’s usually such a stick in the mud! Which actually reminds me; you have to show me that rune Barnes used to cover for your silver burns. I’ve never so much as heard rumour about such a thing before.”
“Wait, George!” he called, grabbing hold of his friend’s arm to stop him from disappearing. “I think you should take it easy for a few more days before you go diving head-first back into research, don’t you?”
“It’s not like I’m going to strain myself from sitting quietly and reading a book,” he snarked.
Ah, yes. If he needed any proof that George really was fine, he just found it. “My point still remains.”
George rolled his eyes at him. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll very carefully sit quietly while I read a book. I’ll even stay in bed for it, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“George,” he warned.
“Now, I think I left my rune anthology downstairs, so I’ll just –”
“George!” he yelled over his friend. “Your heartrate is elevated.” George seemed to fold in on himself. “You’re still blaming yourself.”
A shiver passed over George’s frame as he cast him a side-eyed look. “…I told Inspector Barnes of DSRAC you’re a vampire,” he whispered.
He approached his friend cautiously, laying his hand on his shoulder in comfort. “No; Fairfax forced you to tell DSRAC. You did nothing wrong.”
“…They could have killed you!” cried George, still refusing to meet his eye. “…They should have killed you…I told them you killed Lucy…”
If he still needed to breathe, he would have taken a fortifying breath then. “None of that was your fault.”
“I should have fought it,” sobbed George, “I should have!”
He squeezed the shoulder he held as he felt his friend shudder. The scent of salt filled the air as he cried. “You and I both know that even had Fairfax tried a normal thrall, you would not have been able to resist it,” he said softly.
“…Lucy fought off a vampire’s thrall…”
“Lucy has more magic than she knows what to do with,” he countered immediately, “You do not. And even Lucy is lucky she only experienced magical exhaustion and did not kill herself from doing that.”
“I bound her magic Lockwood…she’s going to HATE me…” sobbed George.
“No, she won’t,” he insisted. This at least, he was certain of. “George, she knew the second you did that something was wrong – that you were not yourself. It immediately made her suspicious they’d done something to you. When I found her in that cell and freed her of the bind, she refused to leave until we got you out too. She would not accept leaving you there, even when I told her your thrall was unbreakable. She wouldn’t leave until she at least tried to save you.”
George sniffled and tried to wipe his face covertly. He did not comment on it.
“I am sorry you ended up enthralled,” he continued. “I was so focused on protecting Lucy, I didn’t think what it would mean if other vampires figured out I can pass through protection wards unaffected. I knew Fairfax’s servants would likely be at that auction. He was the only one who could have made to connection and realized I’d employed you to help me replicate the cure.”
George risked looking at him then. His face was blotchy and his eyes bloodshot.
“If anyone, besides Fairfax, bears responsibility for what happened George – it would be me. I’m more than old enough. I should have known to expect something like this.”
“If it’s not allowed to be my fault,” whispered George, “It’s not allowed to be your fault either.”
He gave his friend a thin-lipped smile. “I will accept those terms.”
He ordered George food from his favourite pizza place that night. It was the closest he could come to cooking dinner without risking giving George food poisoning or something. He did not feel like trying to put out another kitchen fire. It seemed like risking one would be counter-productive to calming his friend down anyway. George appreciated it all the same.
…
“Dr. Bowman woke Lucy up today,” was the first thing that came out of George’s mouth when he returned from work. “Flo and I were both there for her.”
His head snapped up from his book. “Is she alright?” he asked. There was a deep-seated knot of unease in his chest he could not get rid of. It eased somewhat when George came home, and he was able to see for himself his friend was ok. But Lucy had been bitten, had an allergic reaction, and all but exhausted her magic. George might have been ill too, but he did not have quite so many complications.
George grimaced. Well, that was never a good sign. “I hung back a little when she first woke,” confessed George, “I didn’t know if she’d be more anxious or not about seeing me.”
“George, we’ve been through this,” he sighed. “I think Lucy was too worried about you to ever think about being angry with you.”
George pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt evasively. “She freaked when she didn’t immediately see either of us. Her magic still hasn’t calmed down, so it reacted and she ended up charging the air.”
“That’s…not good. That would have only exacerbated the strain it was under,” he muttered.
George replaced his glasses looking sombre. “Flo and I were able to calm her down enough to get her to stop. It was a lot better once she realized I was there, and we told her you were ok too. Dr. Bowman still had to give her a pretty large dose of Flavian’s potion.”
He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and massaged his temples. “I’ll bet that went over well.”
“Worse than your attempts at cooking,” commented George.
He shot him a dirty look. Now was not the time for snark.
“She panicked at how it made her feel,” continued George as if he did not notice. “I talked her through what it was Bowman gave her, what it was doing, and how it should be making her feel. She was still scared, but not enough that it would be a danger and make her worse.”
Chapter 84
Notes:
Alright, who ordered the heaping portion of angst?
😁
Chapter Text
The world slowly came back into focus. The stark quality of the light and the antiseptic smell tinging the air told her she was in the clinic at DSRAC again. The beeping of monitoring equipment provided the backdrop for her struggle to drag herself into consciousness.
She groaned. Her whole body felt sore, and her neck had the muffled feeling of sensation being dulled by painkillers. Experimentally, she tried wiggling her fingers and toes; last she remembered, all of her muscles had stopped responding. She was forced to lie there and listen to Lockwood fight Fairfax. She could not even flop her head over to keep them in sight.
Lockwood fighting Fairfax. George disoriented, groaning in pain. Inspector Barnes and Sergeant Wade arriving to save the day.
Wait…
DSRAC arriving to witness a fight between two vampires…
Lockwood in the same room as Inspector Barnes…
“…No…no…” she sobbed.
“Lucy?” called Flo. “You back with us there, Love?”
“No! They’re gone!”
“Lucy –”
“They would be here! THEY’RE GONE!” she cried.
She forced her aching muscles to move, trying to will her way out of bed. Flo grabbed her and pushed her back down.
“Hey, no! None of that Love,” pacified Flo, “It’s alright.”
“IT’S NOT!” she wailed.
Her body was sore. Her neck was muffled from feeling pain. Her magic snapped and crackled like a dying flame. The sound of lightning shot through it, and suddenly the air felt hot. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor turned frantic. Spots of golden light filled the air, just as black spots started to crop up in her vision.
“Lucy, stop!” cried a voice that made her freeze.
The world seemed to move in slow motion as she rolled her head to look to her other side. “George,” she sobbed. A few of the golden spots of light in the air flickered and went out as she reached out to him. She had to check that he was real. “George, you’re here.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he soothed as he took her wandering hand in his.
Her senses crashed into him, searching for the black chains that had held him hostage before. Her vision tunneled and her breathing grew laboured.
His grip on her hand tightened as he grabbed her shoulder with his other. “Lucy,” he said urgently, “You need to stop using your magic, or you’re going to hurt yourself.”
She tried breathing through it as her vision started to swim. Somewhere, an alarm was going off on one of the monitors. “…is it really you?” she breathed.
“It’s really me,” assured George. He gave her hand another squeeze. “You broke the thrall I was under Lucy. I’m alright. Just calm down, ok?”
“Lockwood –”
“Is at home safe right now,” said George, cutting her off before she could start.
She did not believe him. Lockwood would not just sit at home if there was something really wrong. A ringing started to fill her ears.
But George could see where her mind was going. “Lucy, Lockwood’s fine. I promise.”
“He’s right Love,” commented Flo. She gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Locky’s home safe right now.”
“And before you ask; yes, Barnes knows he’s a vampire now,” continued George in an undertone. She sucked in a harsh breath, but he did not stop there. “Barnes covered for Lockwood’s vampirism. Everyone at DSRAC thinks he’s just a magical and a shifter. He’s not here, because Barnes won’t let him on the premises now that he knows.”
If felt like a heavy weight was suddenly lifted off her chest, and she coughed as she gasped in desperate breaths. Her vision stabilized a little, but the edges still shimmered with darkness. The golden specks in the air shimmered for a moment longer before disappearing.
“What’s happening to me?” she whispered. Her magic scrapped like sand between two stones as it flowed around her body. The soreness in her muscles intensified. Her skin felt hot.
Neither George nor Flo had a chance to answer before Dr. Bowman bustled into the room, followed almost immediately by Nurse Holly. “What’s this then?” he asked absently as he came over to her, checking the monitors still beeping frantically.
“She panicked when she woke up and charged the air with magic,” supplied George immediately. “She made gold sparks appear.”
She whimpered as claws scraped along the inside of her veins. Her magic throbbing through her like a second heart out of sync.
“Easy Dear. Let’s take a look at you,” calmed Bowman as he hovered a hand over her.
She let out a startled squeak when she felt foreign magic press into her chest. She squirmed in an effort to get away, but Holly held her in place. It did not feel like Bowman was doing anything more than the usual pocking and prodding she always got from Kipps after curse-breaking. But everywhere he touched felt raw. They had stuck a bandage over the scrape that bind left on her magic, only the gauze pad was not large enough. Some of the sticky part happened to be right over raw flesh, and it tore anew as they eased it off the skin of her magic.
“…please…stop…” she sobbed.
“Alright Dear,” soothed Bowman as he withdrew his magic, “Let’s calm down now. We’ll get you fixed up. Nurse Holly? Would be so kind as to find me the bottle of Flavian’s potion and a measuring cup?”
“Of course.” Holly bustled off to the cabinets lining the wall to look for the requested items.
She saw George and Flo share a grim look at the mention of the potion. It was not reassuring. One of the screens showed her heart rate rising. Her magic crashed like lightning through her veins again. She wheezed as her vision flashed.
“Hmm. Looks like 60mils is going to be necessary,” muttered Bowman as Holly handed over the things he asked for. “Holly, if you would mind?”
Holly pushed her into a sitting position with the help of Flo, since she was sitting on that side of her.
“Alright Dear, I’m going to need you to swallow this, alright?” called Bowman as he offered up the medicine cup full of liquid.
He helped her drink the potion in small sips. Only when the little cup was empty did he pull back and motion for Holly and Flo to lay her back down.
Bowman surrendered the items to Holly for cleaning and storage before turning his attention to the monitors again. George and Flo sidled up closer to her with looks of concern.
After three beats of her heart, she knew why. It felt like someone doused her whole body and all her magic in cold water. The feeling washed through her veins, leaving everything numb and unresponsive in its wake. It poured through her core of power, and suddenly she was panicking. Her magic was not responding, just like with the bind.
“Lucy,” called George urgently as her breathing picked up. “Do you have any idea what Flavian’s potion is for?”
She did not want to move, or risk speaking. All she could do was cast her wide, frightened eyes to him.
George placed a hand on her arm carefully in comfort. “If you have magic and get bit by a vampire, it can cause your magic to go into something like a state of shock. It’s actually very common,” he explained. “It triggers a kind of flight response in your magic, but since your magic can’t actually go anywhere, it surges in your body. Those surges can start to interfere in with your nervous system and cause problems. Flavian’s potion helps calm your magic down to stop that from happening.”
Her breathing turned ragged as Bowman turned back to her. “It’s alright Dear,” he soothed, “The surges in your magic are already quieting. All you need to do is calm down, and you’ll be alright.”
George talked her through everything the potion was for and how she should be reacting to it. “Your magic isn’t bound Lucy,” he reassured, “If you really tried, you would still be able to use it. But the whole point of Flavian’s potion is calm you magic down so it doesn’t do anything without a lot of conscious effort. It’s meant to make it easier for your magic to settle after putting it through the shock of a vampire bite.”
She hated how it made her feel numb. Bowman and George both assured her the sensations she felt were nothing to worry about. But she did not like it. If she concentrated, she could still feel her magic flowing like it was supposed to – it was not simply gone the way it had been with the bind. She wanted it to be there though, the comforting warmth she knew it to be. And it wasn’t. The potion hid it from her.
Flo and George sat with her for a long time, murmuring reassurances. It did not help.
…
George was concerned about Lucy. It had been a couple days since she woke up, and her magic was not recovering. Dr. Bowman still had her on Flavian’s potion, which did not help matters. Lucy hated the way it made her feel; but then, that was normal. Her dosage was reduced now from that first day. It was still high enough to be worrying. Bowman was finally starting to look concerned.
Something needed to be done. The only question then, was what?
“Lucy?” he called out softly as he pushed through the door to her room.
“George?” he heard her breathe.
“Hey,” he called, “How are you feeling today?”
She lay curled on her side, an IV tapped to her arm. With the amount of picking at it he saw her do, he knew it made her anxious. With her magic the way it was, she could not keep anything more than water down, so it was necessary. They found that out latter the first day.
“…I just want to go home…”
He sighed as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Lucy, you’re too sick to go home right now,” he rationalized. “As much as we’d like too, we don’t have the tools to look after you.”
She shivered slightly and curled into herself more. The monitors showed yet another small surge in her magic. He pinched his glasses as he took them off and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt.
What Lucy really wanted was to see for herself that Lockwood was still here. Barnes was holding firm on his stance of banning him from the premises. It was understandable, given he was a vampire and this was the home base for DSRAC in the UK. But right now, it seemed to be doing more harm than good, at least in Lucy’s case.
He sat with her for a couple hours and tried to get her to relax. One of the problems with her magic being so strung out was that she was having trouble sleeping. It kept waking her up as it surged. Sleeping pills and other medicine only helped so much. It was not sustainable long-term. They needed to find a way to calm her magic down.
By the time he left her to go do his job, he managed to formulate a plan. If he was right, and could get Bowman on board, Barnes would have no choice but to allow Lockwood in to see Lucy – not if he wanted her to get any better, at least.
…
“Karim,” startled Barnes as he knocked on the Inspector’s door, “What brings you here?”
“Lucy’s magic still hasn’t calmed down,” he blurted.
Barnes sighed. “I am aware of her condition Karim, I don’t need you to remind me.”
“I know something that might help,” he continued as if he had not been interrupted.
Barnes raised an eyebrow, seeming to settle in for a show. “Really? And what might that be?”
“Let Lockwood in to see her.”
Barnes scowled at him. “No.”
He huffed in frustration. “Has he done anything to go against your order to steer clear of headquarters?” he snapped. “Have you found any unexplained deaths around Marylebone?”
Barnes folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
“You didn’t kill him – in fact, you covered for him so no one else would either!” he argued. He was tired of Barnes’ skirting around the truth. “I know for a fact if you thought for a single second he was actually a threat, you would not have done that! And right now, Lucy needs him!”
“Karim –”
“Lucy’s magic won’t calm down,” he said, barrelling on as he tried to cut off whatever denial Barnes was about to give him. “Her magic instinctively trusted Lockwood from the very beginning! She told us her magic gave her warning signals from the first moment she arrived in London, and the only time it stopped was when she was near our house, or when Lockwood was around somewhere. He might be able to help her!”
“Karim –”
“Remember how I told you about a new magical that moved into the area?” he asked instead of letting Barnes talk. “The only reason I even knew was because Lockwood told me! He insisted I needed to call DSRAC so you could protect Lucy. But he’s Lockwood, so of course that wasn’t enough for him – he watched over her himself to make absolutely sure nothing would happen! The only reason something did happen, was because he had to hang back more once DSRAC really did show up.”
“Karim –!”
“She figured out he could transform into a bird and had been watching over her after only seeing him twice, all because of how her magic was calm whenever he’s around!”
“KARIM!” bellowed Barnes, cutting him off finally.
He snapped his mouth shut at the thunderous expression Barnes was giving him. Before the Inspector could reprimand him, he bellowed out his last, strongest argument, “LOCWOOD’S LUCY’S SOULMATE!”
A ringing silence filled the office as Barnes looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “That’s…impossible,” he said.
“So is a vampire with real magic, and yet here we are.”
Barnes scowled at him. “What, exactly, makes you so certain of this?” he growled.
He folded his arms and glared right back. “I’ve been suspicious ever since Lucy told us the only time her magic did not give her warning signals was when Lockwood was around. I’ve also had multiple occasions to see that Lockwood’s touch breaks Lucy out of her visions when they start to get to be too much. I interrogated Kipps for everything that happened the day she was attacked by black magic while working – Kipps’ touch did not have the same effect! And right now, she’s still not sure if she should believe us when we tell her Lockwood’s fine, and her magic refuses to calm down.”
“If they were really soulmates, she’d know if he was dead,” hedged Barnes. But he could see a considering look in his eye.
“The bond hasn’t fully formed,” he countered, “So that’s not true. By this point, I’m pretty sure it can’t, and that Lockwood’s vampirism is blocking it – technically speaking, he’s already dead. I’ve seen Lockwood work to protect other magicals; he’s way more invested in Lucy than any of the others. And Lucy trusts him, unequivocally.”
…
He sat fidgeting in a chair outside Barnes’ office. The conclusion of their little spat saw Barnes summoning Dr. Bowman for a consultation. Any soul connections Lucy’s magic had would have shown up in her mapping – which it had – so Bowman would know if he was telling the truth.
He sprang to standing when the door opened and Bowman walked out. The doctor gave him a reassuring smile and a small pat on the shoulder as he passed, but did not say anything. Barnes called him back into his office.
Chapter 85
Notes:
I make soulmate fluff. You enjoy.
○( ^皿^)っ Hehehe…
Chapter Text
“Lockwood! I’ve got something important to tell you!” called George the second he got home. He bent down to take his shoes off, and by the time he stood back up, Lockwood was already in front of him.
“Did something happen at DSRAC? Is Lucy alright?” worried Lockwood.
He raised his hands, trying to stem the flood of Lockwood’s unease. “Whoa, mate, let me finish. Nothings wrong.”
“Well then, what is it?”
“I managed to talk Barnes into letting you go into headquarters to see Lucy,” he said immediately.
Lockwood stared at him with an astonished look for a solid minute before he was able to formulate any kind of response. “What…how did you manage that?”
“Lucy’s magic still hasn’t calmed down. I made the case that you might be able to help with that, since Lucy’s magic instinctively trusted you from the start,” he explained.
Lockwood gave him a searching look. “And the Inspector bought that?”
“It’s true,” he grumbled.
“We both know that,” placated Lockwood, “But that doesn’t mean the Inspector would believe it.”
“Does it really matter? Barnes agreed to let you in to see her,” he sighed.
Lockwood folded his arms and raised a brow. “And that’s it, no other contingencies? He’ll just let me in?”
“Well…” he hedged. There was only one thing Barnes had demanded as contingency. “He only agreed if you had someone he trusted escort you through the building.”
Lockwood nodded, clearly having expected something like that. “So my chaperone, it is to be Sergeant Wade then, is it?”
“No…it’s…Kipps,” he muttered.
Lockwood was quiet for a beat. “In that case, tomorrow should be an interesting day.”
…
Lucy lay in bed dosing absently. Dr. Bowman had already been by this morning to check on her. She dreaded his appearance – it always meant another dose of that awful potion she still needed. She hated it. It did not matter how much it was meant to help her. It was awful not being able to feel her magic.
The monitors beeped quietly in the background. Every so often, the one keeping track of her magic showed yet another surge. She shivered from the painful shocking sensation that flowed over her after each one.
She wanted to go home. She wanted her own bed and a proper sleep. And…she wanted to be able to see for herself Lockwood really was alright. She did not think that Flo or George would lie to her about what happened to him…but she still needed to see.
The door to her room opened, and she curled a little further into herself. Surely it could not be Bowman again – it was not that long since her last dose of potion.
“Oh, Luce,” breathed someone who was definitely not Dr. Bowman.
Her eyes snapped open, suddenly wide awake as she looked to see Lockwood walking towards her. “Lockwood!”
He gave her a soft, thin-lipped smile before taking one of her hands and sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.
“How’re you here?” she worried, “It’s not safe, what if –”
“Luce,” soothed Lockwood. He reached forward and swept her bangs out of her face. She could not help it as she collapsed into the touch. “It’s alright. George talked the Inspector into letting me come in to see you. And everyone else just thinks I’m a magical and not a vampire.”
“How did he manage that?” she asked even as she clutched at him.
Lockwood gave her another soft smile. “He made the case that your magic instinctively trusts me, and it wasn’t calming down on its own. He thought I might be able to help you, and eventually the Inspector agreed to allow it.”
“Are you really ok?” she asked in a whisper, her earnest eyes boring into him. “You were injured…and Barnes…”
“Luce,” cut in Lockwood before she could finish. “I promise; I’m alright.”
“You’re burns –”
“All it took for them to heal was one feeding,” he explained. “I’m alright.”
He gave her the time to let the words sink in. She felt another electric shock as her magic surged again. She only barely managed to hold in a whimper of pain.
Lockwood’s keen senses caught the reaction anyway. “Oh, Luce. I can smell the strain still in your magic. You’ve barely recovered at all.”
“Why does it still feel like this?” she hiccoughed as she tried not to start sobbing in frustration.
Lockwood stood and stepped closer to her, still keeping hold of her hand. “You’re magic went into shock when you were bitten, and it hasn’t calmed down yet. That’s all it is Luce – your magic is reacting to your anxiety.”
“I don’t –”
“Lucy,” he cut in, “You’re going to feel like this until you can calm yourself down. Look, see this monitor here? This shows a reading of your magical energy. Watch what happens when I do this –” he said as he pinched her arm, just enough that she could feel it.
She saw the measurement on the screen jump higher just as she felt that surge of electric shock roll over her body.
“You see how you’re magic reacted to the stimulus?” continued Lockwood as he regained her attention. “It’s not supposed to do that – at least not to this degree. It’s normal for there to be some stimulation, but it’s not supposed to be significant enough that it can be measured like this.”
“How do I stop it?” she whined as she shifted closer.
Lockwood gave her hand another small squeeze. “You have to calm down,” he said. After watching her for another few moments, he reached and gently turned her chin to face him. “Luce, I know something that should help. All you need to do is lie back, relax, and breathe, ok?”
“Lockwood?” she called, a small tremor in her voice.
“Just breathe Lucy, it’s alright. I’m going to use a few pressure points to help you relax,” he calmed.
He turned her hand so her wrist was facing up. He swiped his thumb over her outer wrist until he found a small hollow, then applied a light pressure as he circled the spot for a couple minutes. He then did the same thing on her other wrist. As he did, she felt her thoughts slowly settle so they were not so distracting.
From there, Lockwood moved onto another spot three fingers down on her inner forearm, between the tendons. He repeated the motion from before for a few seconds on each arm before stopping.
Her thoughts were starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy. “That’s it Luce, just relax. Deep breaths for me for this last one, ok?” whispered Lockwood.
Her eyes started to flutter tiredly as she made a conscious effort to steady her breathing.
He moved to gently grasp her chin, being sure to be careful of her bite mark. He felt around for the correct spots on the back of her neck before pressingly firmly upwards. He once again used the same small circular motion for a few seconds before drawing back.
“How do you feel now Lucy?” he asked softly.
She felt boneless where she lay. Eyelids fluttering, she mumbled her response. Vaguely, she registered the soft chuckle he gave her. “Why don’t you close your eyes and get some sleep Luce? I’ll be here when you wake.”
She did not manage to make any form of response before drifting off to sleep.
…
Kipps sat mulishly on the hard plastic chairs located in the hall outside Lucy’s room at the clinic. He was not sure if he should be offended or proud that Barnes set him on vampire-babysitting duty. Not that anyone else really knew that’s what it was. Especially since it seemed more and more like it was not needed.
“You need to let me go in the room with her alone,” commented Lockwood when he escorted him to the room. He had to open all the doors for him, since he could not touch the silver-plated knobs without giving himself away.
He shot the vampire a suspicious look. “If you think I’m going to just leave you alone with her –”
Lockwood sighed. “Mr. Kipps,” he placated. “Lucy knows what I am, and she knows you do not have a sympathetic view of vampires. If she sees you in the same room as me, it’s not going to help her calm down.”
He chewed on his scathing retort for a long time. “Fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll let you go in first. You get exactly 10 minutes alone with her, and then I’m coming in. But I’m standing guard outside the door, and if I hear anything resembling a struggle, I’m coming in.”
He did exactly as he said, counting down the seconds on his watch as he waited. Nothing that suggested an attack was happening could be heard. He immediately pushed through the door when his timer dinged the end of the 10 minute grace period.
Lucy lay in bed, fast asleep, face turned toward the vampire. He sat in a chair next to her, keeping hold of her hand and watching her for any signs of distress.
“Mr. Kipps,” whispered Lockwood, “If you still intend to hover, I suggest you do so quietly. I only just got her to fall asleep.”
“What did you do? Force her to sleep by enthralling her?” he snapped in an undertone, his hand falling to his side arm. He stared at Lucy in wonderment at how relaxed she finally looked after so long with her magic refusing to calm down.
Lockwood shot him a displeased expression. “Of course not,” he hissed. He pointed to the screen showing her magical energy. “As you can see, her magical energy is finally starting to settle. A thrall would have worked to put her to sleep, but it would not have helped her magic calm in the slightest. I made use of a few pressure points to help her relax. She fell asleep naturally.”
He watched in bemusement as Lucy huffed in her sleep and shifted closer to the vampire. Feeling rather like he was intruding on something private, he muttered something about keeping watch from the hallway, and slipped out. It did not appear like the vampire paid him any attention.
Chapter 86
Notes:
Alright, intermission over! (o゚v゚)ノ
Chapter Text
George waited until after lunch to go see Lucy. He figured the morning was more than enough time for Lockwood to spend calming her down in private. He found Kipps stationed outside the room with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.
“Are you attempting to imitate a pug’s wrinkled face, or do you just naturally have that many rolls in your skin?” he asked archly as he came up.
Kipps threw a scowl at him. “Shut up Karim. I’m not in the mood for you right now.”
“When are you ever?” he asked before shooting a look at the door to Lucy’s room. “Is Lockwood still here? I figured you’d be breathing down his neck from the second he stepped foot in headquarters. Why are you sitting out here?”
Kipps harumphed, shooting a caustic look to the door. “Your…friend…is still here. He’s in there sitting with Lucy.”
“And you’re out here because…?”
“It was pretty obvious I wasn’t needed for anything,” sighed Kipps with a mulish expression. “He managed to get her to calm down enough that she fell asleep in less than 10 minutes of sitting with her.”
He blinked in surprise. Well, he had not expected Lockwood’s presence to have quite that strong of an effect. It was certainly useful that he did though.
Passing by Kipps’ sulking, he pushed through the door to find Lockwood siting next to a clearly sleeping Lucy, holding her hand.
“You got her to fall asleep?” he asked softly.
Lockwood gave him a small wave of welcome. “Yeah. It wasn’t even very hard. All I really did was use a few pressure points to help her relax.”
He gazed at Lockwood long and hard. He did not even notice. It was astonishing, really, just how dense he was being. There was almost no way that three minutes of pseudo-acupressure would be enough to have this much of an effect. Lockwood would never acknowledge what was really going on though. He sighed internally.
“Has she been sleeping since?”
“Yeah. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep once I was finished.”
He pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. “She’s not been sleeping well because of the surges in her magic, so that’s not too surprising.”
…
When she blinked awake, it felt simultaneously as if no time at all and a thousand years had passed since she closed her eyes. A small squeeze of her hand alerted her to Lockwood’s continued presence at her side.
“Hey,” he called softly, “How are you feeling?”
She mulled over her answer. There was still a lingering soreness in her muscles, but it was substantially reduced now. She could almost feel her magic again too, minus the painful surging shocks that were constant only that morning. “Better,” she settled on.
“Are you still experiencing surges of magic that feel like an electric shock?” asked George from her other side. She only just noticed him. He sat readjusting his glasses on his face as he surveyed her with his sharp eyes.
“I…don’t think so?” she asked more than answered.
He nodded in understanding anyway. “Your levels are a lot more normal now than they were yesterday,” he concurred. “We’ll have to get Dr. Bowman to check you over to be sure, but I don’t think you’re going to need Flavian’s potion anymore.”
“Good,” she breathed.
Lockwood laughed softly at her fervent response. She lightly smacked him while George offered his own comment, “Most people dislike having to take Flavian’s potion; your enthusiasm is understandable.”
…
“Well Miss Carlyle,” said Dr. Bowman as he pulled back from his examination of her magic. “It looks like you’re finally on the mend. You’re showing a significant amount of improvement, even just from where you were this morning.”
He gave her a reassuring smile as he packed away his instruments and things. She sighed in relief. George was right – she had improved enough since the morning to not need Flavian’s potion any more.
“Seems as if your friend here should have come by for a visit much sooner,” comment Bowman airily.
Lockwood shot her a reassuring, thin-lipped smile. She thought she could detect a faint edge of smugness in it as he directed his eyes to George sitting on her other side.
George rolled his eyes before pinching his glasses and cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. “That’s something you’ll have to take up with Barnes, Dr. Bowman,” he offered as he replaced his glasses.
Bowman nodded absently to himself. “I just might do,” he mumbled. “I’ll leave you to your friends and your rest now.”
Silence stretched out after Bowman’s departure.
“Does Bowman know?” she asked in a whisper.
The boys threw a weighted look at each other.
“I’m not exactly sure,” commented George with a frown. “I don’t think Barnes told him, even when he consulted him about letting Lockwood in to see you.”
“That isn’t to say he does not suspect anything,” added Lockwood with a considering frown.
George shrugged. “If he does, it looks like he doesn’t care.”
“Would it…be a problem if he knew?” she asked, a little worriedly.
Lockwood shook himself out of his distraction to focus back on her. “I don’t believe so, no,” he reassured.
“Bowman’s a doctor,” added George, “He’s never been involved in hunting or killing vampires. He knows what has to happen in order for someone to be turned. He’s probably very open to the possibilities of helping vampires.”
…
“My Lady,” simpered a smooth voice from the shadows, “I have word; it appears Fairfax is dead, and his coven dismantled.”
The clicking sound of long nails tapping on a hard surface rang out. “My, that is news, indeed. Do we know how this happened?” asked a sharp-voiced woman.
“It appears the capture of a magical went awry for him.”
“So, he was sloppy. Why should that interest us?”
“As far as I can tell, despite Fairfax’s many flaws, he did everything right in this instance. We should care because one of…our runes was used to frame a magical shifter as a vampire. A talented researcher for DSRAC somehow found it. And the magical Fairfax caught? She might just be the one we’ve been looking for.”
“Hmm,” mused the woman, “That could certainly become a problem. Do we know who these people are?”
“I have not heard tell. It seems no one quite knows what happened when Fairfax’s country base was raided. What I have heard is enough though. The shifter? They are not only willing to infiltrate a vampire’s coven base, but managed to rescue the girl before DSRAC even got there.”
“Well now, that would certainly be of use to us, if they could be brought to heel. And the girl Fairfax caught? What of her?”
“I might have a way to more information about her. A weak link I’ve discovered that may be of some use to us. It could also give us an avenue for keeping tabs of the researcher as well.”
“Good,” declared the woman, “I want you to find out everything you can about this shifter and the girl. And investigate this incident with Fairfax – we need to know where exactly he went wrong, and how we can do better.”
“My Lady,” simpered the man as he bowed. He left behind nothing but the whisper of shifting fabric in his wake. The clacking of long nails continued behind him.
…
“Hello again, My Lady,” simpered the smooth voice she now knew came from Sir Rupert Gale.
“Gale!” cried a woman’s voice she did not know, “How…what...You were…you were dead. I sent some men out to find you, and you were dead! They buried you!”
“Oh, believe me, My Lady, I’m well aware,” breathed the man’s voice. It sounded like he had swaggered his way closer to the woman. “I had to claw my way out of that shallow grave. I’ll have to thank them for that latter – it would have been so much harder if they had done it properly.”
“Sir Gale,” growled the woman in a caustic voice, “However much I might be relieved you are still with us, I’m ordering you now to remove yourself from my person immediately.”
“But you smell so good,” simpered the man, “You smell like magic, My Lady. It’s making me thirsty.”
“I am warning you Gale, not another step!”
There was the hiss of a vampire moving in for the attack, followed almost instantly by a concussive blast that could only have come from magic. An angry snarl sounded as a body slammed into a wall some distance away.
“Gale?” stuttered the woman’s voice uncertainly. “What is this? What has happened to you?”
An angry snarl and gnashing of teeth was the only answer she got. A bookshelf splintered then; it’s contents tumbling to the floor. More angry snarling.
“My dear, whatever are you doing in there?” called another man’s voice from outside somewhere.
“Wait – Tom! Don’t come in here!” cried the woman.
“It’s my house. I’ll come in if I wish to.”
“Tom! –”
The sound of books being thrown about the room. A growl. A door opening, and footsteps coming into the room.
“What – Gale?” asked the second man. And then he screamed.
“Lucy!”
Her eyes snapped open. The monitors around her all sounding different sorts of alarms. Her heart felt like it was in her throat and there was cold sweat covering her skin. Lockwood’s face hovered over her.
“Luce, it’s alright. You’re alright,” soothed Lockwood as he held her still in bed.
She whimpered at the sound of that man’s terrified scream continuing to echo inside her head. She clutched his arm, using the sensation to anchor herself in her present circumstances and draw her out of the vestiges of that vision.
“Miss Carlyle, can you look at me, please?” called Bowman from her other side.
When she did not respond, he turned her face himself, shining a light in her eyes to check her pupils. It caused a spike of pain to shoot through her temples, and she groaned, trying to shift away. Lockwood did not let her, holding her steady. “Easy Luce,” he breathed, “Let the Doctor look at you. It’s alright.”
She lay there panting as Bowman checked her vitals. When he probed her magic experimentally, she whimpered and the feel of it – raw and grating. Lockwood squeezed her hand to let her know he was still there with her. She sobbed in relief when Bowman pulled his magic out and stepped away muttering under his breath.
It was only then she noticed Barnes standing off to the side of the room, watching. She sucked in a shocked breath, the monitor beeping angrily as her heartrate spiked. Her eyes flew from Barnes to Lockwood.
Lockwood however, was not paying Barnes any attention at all. He gave her hand another squeeze before resting his other on the side of her head. “Hey, calm down. You’re ok Luce, just breathe,” he soothed.
“How did you know she was having a vision?” asked Barnes into the silence.
“Her scent changed, and I recognized the smell,” answered Lockwood without even looking at the inspector.
“This has happened before?” questioned Barnes more insistently.
Lockwood glanced up at him for a moment before returning his focus to her. She lay there panting, clinging to his promise of comfort. “Several times,” he said, “When they do happen, Lucy’s visions come early in the morning, before she’s fully woken up yet.”
“And you know this because…?” drawled Barnes.
Lockwood shot him a dark look. “The first time it happened, she woke screaming. It would have been hard to miss, and afterwards, I watched for it.”
“Alright dear,” bustled Bowman as he came back. She felt a spike of unease at the needle in his hand. “I’m going to give you a very light sedative Lucy,” he explained. “It’ll help you relax and calm down now that the vision is over.”
“I –” she stared to protest, but Lockwood drew her attention away, murmuring reassurances to her.
Bowman gave her the injection through the IV line, so he did not have to actually inject her. It still left her heart fluttering in unease. Lockwood helped by using the pressure points on the back of her neck again, then sat with her as she dozed absently.
Chapter 87
Notes:
Te-he
I have done a thing. ♪(´▽`)
Chapter Text
She was still half-asleep when George burst back into her room latter that day. “What’s this I hear about something going wrong?” he demanded the second he came in.
“George, lower the volume,” admonished Lockwood.
George looked appropriately chastised as she grunted in annoyance and snuggled down further into her blankets. “Lucy?” he prodded in a softer tone.
“She fell asleep again after you went back to work. She had another vision,” explained Lockwood when she did not respond. “The Doctor gave her a light sedative afterwards.”
She felt George step up next to her bed, but was too tired to turn and look at him. “Lucy?” he called softly, “Are you ok?”
“Mmh,” was her only answer.
George found her knee through the blankets and laid a comforting hand there. “We really need to find a way of helping you deal with these visions,” he murmured. “It’s not good for you if you keep getting so wiped out after them. We should go through your mapping again – see if there’s anything in there that will help.”
“I believe the Doctor is already doing that,” commented Lockwood. She said nothing.
George nodded. “I’d be surprised if Bowman wasn’t after seeing how her visions affect her for himself. I’d still like to have a look myself, but that can wait for when you’re feeling better.”
“Mmh,” she grunted again. She turned to head to blink blearily at him. “D’you not want to know?” she mumbled.
Geroge gave her a searching look. “What?”
“My…vision…d’you…want to hear…?” she breathed, trying to cling to the words she needed to get her point across.
She saw the moment he understood. “Like I said, that can wait for when you’re feeling better.”
…
The boys both sat with her for the rest of visiting hours at the clinic. She did not want them to go when it came time for them to leave.
“We’ll both be back first thing tomorrow, Luce,” soothed Lockwood when a nameless DSRAC nurse came in to chivvy them out the door.
“Mmh, promise?” she breathed.
Lockwood made to respond, but was cut off by George. “Course we promise,” he said. “Lockwood, I know neither of us really wants to leave her here for the night, but if we don’t leave soon, I’m pretty sure Kipps is going to drag you out the front doors himself. I can see him in the hall, and he’s looking a mite antsy to be getting home.”
Lockwood left her with one last reassuring squeeze of her hand before bidding her goodnight. He re-iterated the promise to come back in the morning.
…
“How’re we feeling this lovely morning?” trilled Nurse Holly as she bustled in.
She groaned in response, causing Holly’s melodic laughter to ring out for a second.
“Based on how that groan sounded more grumpy than exhausted, I’m going to go with ’better’,” continued Holly with a smile.
“S’too early for you to be so chipper,” she grumbled half-heartedly.
Holly paid her comment no mind as she went through the familiar motions of checking that the sensors and IV line had not come lose in the night. “Everything’s still in place,” she declared, “Dr. Bowman will be in soon for your morning evaluation.”
That was enough to wake her up. “Oh, right,” she murmured.
If Holly caught her diminished enthusiasm, she did not comment on it. Instead, she chose to bustle around the room cleaning and disinfecting things to her exacting standards of perfection.
She was actually pleased to find the boys enter with Bowman when he finally did show up. Lockwood gave her a bright, thin-lipped smile and immediately took up his position from the other day at her side. George seemed to be having some sort of argument with Bowman.
“Miss Carlyle,” bustled Bowman, “I hear from Nurse Holly you seem to be doing better. Can I get you to sit up please, so I can look you over?” He gave her a soothing smile, all while ignoring George’s grumbling from behind his shoulder.
Lockwood helped her into a sitting position, and she suffered through the normal morning checks.
“You’re much improved from where you were yesterday,” offered Bowman when he was finished. “Are you still experiencing any disorientation or discomfort from the vision you had yesterday?”
“No,” she answered immediately. She was holding out hope that her condition was stable enough that Bowman would sign off on letting her go home today.
“The worst of her symptoms usually go away on their own after a couple hours at most,” offered George from his place at her feet.
Bowman nodded. “These visions, are they very common?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They mostly happen when I’m in active danger,” she explained, “But the ones like yesterday…”
“Yes?” prompted Bowman when she stuttered to a halt.
She peered at him from under her lashes. Lockwood gave her hand a squeeze, no doubt sensing her hesitation.
“When I’m not in danger, I still sometimes get visions,” she mumbled, fiddling with the blanket on her lap. “I think…those ones are more powerful. George thinks…well…that ambient magic sends me those when they happen. I sometimes…hear a voice, telling me that I need to see.”
Bowman nodded to show his understanding. He seemed to believe her, even as he seemed lost in thought. He pulled out his usual clipboard from some recess in his lab coat scrubs and consulted it in silence for a few moments.
“Can you describe the voice you sometimes hear in connection with your visions?” he asked, still considering his clipboard.
“You…don’t believe me?” she whispered.
“Luce,” murmured Lockwood in her ear. He accompanied the endearment with another squeeze of her hand.
Bowman gave her his full attention. “I believe you, Miss Carlyle,” he reassured, “You are a lodestone magical, and though it’s never been properly documented, there is more than enough evidence that such magicals are sometimes able to engage in some sort of communion with magic. Everyone knows that magic sees everything and always remembers. It’s not too much of a stretch to believe that it has some form of sentience that allows it to communicate with magicals of a certain standard.”
She let out a breath she was not aware she had been holding.
“You told us when you had that vision after the relic auction case that the voice you heard came from within your own magic,” said George into the silence that had developed.
Bowman looked to him in interest. “Is that right, Miss Carlyle?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “When it happens it’s kind of like…I feel my magic vibrating in a way that makes the sounds of the voice I hear.”
Bowman nodded as he scribbled something on his clipboard. “That would be the logical conclusion of your abilities, as your magic is sound-focused.” He glanced up sharply as he finished whatever it was he was writing. “Before I say any more, are you comfortable with Mr. Lockwood and Karim here remaining for this discussion? This is your personal information.”
She blinked in surprise at the question. It had not even crossed her mind to keep whatever this was to herself. She supposed that other people might be more wary – but George and Lockwood…they were all she had. “Yes, it’s fine,” she insisted, “I went through my mapping with both of them anyway. They helped me to understand what it said.”
“Did you now?” asked Bowman archly, giving everyone in the room a considering look.
She heard George mumbled a whispered, “I told you so,” under his breath. Lockwood just shot her another smile.
Maybe she was imagining it, but Bowman seemed to find something amusing as he watched her sitting with her hand in Lockwood’s. He did not say anything about it, and the expression vanished soon after. “So, the voice of magic you hear, is it always to do with these visions?” he asked.
“Usually, yeah,” she answered. “It’s never more than like…two or three words in a row. I get a lot of ‘you must see’, and stuff like that.”
Bowmans scribbled on his clipboard, humming consideringly. “Miss Carlyle, am I right in assuming that your visions consist of sounds only and not images?”
“I’ve seen images in two of the visions I had,” she offered.
More scribbling. “Was there anything different about the circumstances you found yourself in when you had those visions?” questioned Bowman.
“Physical contact snaps her out of the visions,” inserted Lockwood, “The one time at home she had a vision and that didn’t work right away like it usually does, she got a flash of images and saw the faces of the people from her vision.”
Bowman nodded, writing down more notes in his standard doctor chicken scratch. “And the other instance?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It was early on after I came to London. I was alone in the room I lived in over the shop I worked at. That was one of the visions I had because I was in danger. It…a couple of Rampagers were having a fight over me in the alley behind the store.”
Bowman hummed consideringly, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “You were completely alone at the time?” he pressed, “No one else, other than the vampires, were anywhere near you?”
“That was before we’d all properly met,” supplied George. “Lucy didn’t even know she had magic at the time, and Lockwood was keeping watch from nearby in his other form. The vampires wouldn’t have paid any attention to him as a bird.”
Lockwood suddenly looked a little less pale than usual, and coughed to cover his self-consciousness. Bowman, for his part, moved past the admission with an air of practiced ease at handling delicate conversations.
“Mr. Lockwood,” called Bowman, “Would it happen to have been your touch specifically that snapped Miss Carlyle out of the first vision you mentioned where she saw images?”
“…Yes?” he answered, somewhat unsure.
“Miss Carlyle, you say that when you hear the voice of magic speak to you about your visions, it says ‘you must see’, correct?”
“Yeah…”
“Then, Mr. Lockwood, I have another question for you; does your magic happen to have a sensory leaning towards visual stimuli?”
There was stark silence for several beats, and then, “…It would…” hedged Lockwood.
“Then I do believe we’ve found the reason these visions take so much out of you, Miss Carlyle. They’re currently lacking something magic clearly thinks you need to understand them.”
George immediately face-palmed. “Of course! Why didn’t I see it before?” he exclaimed.
Lockwood was silent in his place next to her.
Chapter 88
Notes:
Guys...I brought up the birdcage incident again...🫣🤭🤫
Chapter Text
“If magic itself is sending you these visions, I don’t think there’s anything we can do that would block them from happening until after you completely recover,” commented Bowman with a frown on his face. “Though I would feel much better about it if we could,” he added in an undertone.
“Lockwood gave Lucy a healing charm early on that helps dampen unconscious magic,” offered George. “It worked for a while to block her visions, but then one morning she came downstairs and it was obvious it’s magic was straining. It’s completely failed to block the visons since then.”
She sat in silence as she listened to everyone talk. Lockwood was unusually silent at her side. “…That’s when I started hearing the voice…” she whispered.
“What was that, Miss Carlyle?” asked Bowman when he noticed.
“When the charm stopped working to block the visions,” she explained, “That’s when I first heard the voice.”
Bowman tapped his pen on his clipboard, lost in thought. George had an unfocused look in his eye as he tried to recall everything she had ever said about her visions.
“Yes,” he breathed after a moment, “That is exactly when you first started talking about hearing that voice. But it’s not just for visions anymore, is it? You sometimes hear it when you do more complex magic, don’t you Lucy?”
Bowman looked up from his clipboard in interest. “Is that right?” he asked.
She shifted a little uncomfortably. “Yeah…I heard it when I broke George’s thrall…and…after I broke that relic when I was attacked by black magic…and…” She trailed off as she glanced from Lockwood to George.
Lockwood still seemed lost somewhere inside his own head, and did not acknowledge her. Thankfully, George never missed anything, and caught on to what she was referring to immediately. He turned to Bowman. “There was an experiment we tried at home that was more advanced magic,” he explained. “We were trying for hours and it wasn’t working, but Lucy wanted one more shot – she was convinced she could actually do it. You heard the voice of magic speak to you then, didn’t you? That’s how you knew what to do to make it work.”
“Yeah.” She cast a side-eyed look at Lockwood to see if he was watching. She did not know what to make of it when she saw him still lost to the world in thought.
“Well, we’ll just have to hope that no more visions present themselves for the rest of your recovery,” commented Bowman.
Her head shot up sharply to look at the doctor. “But…I’m better now! I thought…”
Bowman gave her a sympathetic look while shaking his head a little. “No, Miss Carlyle, you are still not fully recovered. You’ve made significant improvement, but we’ll have to keep you here for a little longer. The levels of your magic are approaching normal, but they haven’t made it there quite yet.”
She slumped back down into bed a little disheartened as Bowman packed up to leave. George took the opportunity to drag over a spare chair and sit on the opposite side of the bed from Lockwood. He still had not said anything. He kept a hold of her hand, but she did not feel anymore comforting squeezes, or the wandering of his fingers as he searched out her pulse point despite the monitors showing him everything he would need to know. She did not notice as George shot Lockwood an exasperated look. To be fair, he did not notice either.
…
Eventually, George had to leave for work. Normally, that would have been fine. But…Lockwood was being strange. He was pensive and silent in a way he never was. He had not said a word since Bowmen left.
“Lockwood?” she called when she finally had enough of it.
He seemed to snap out of whatever state he had fallen into and focussed back in on her for the first time. “Hmm? Luce? Is there something you need?” he asked as he shook himself.
She stared at him for a long moment. “Why are you being funny?” she asked.
He blinked at her. “I’m not being funny,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “You’ve been all quiet since Bowman was here.” She gave him a cold look that dared him to try contradicting her.
He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Do you remember, when we went through your mapping together, I never fully explained the part about your magic having an outside connection to someone. You said George had not done so either.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” she asked, bewildered.
“Those connections are more than just magic Lucy,” he explained, “They are indications that you have a soulmate.”
She stared at him with her mouth slightly open. “That’s…What?” she squeaked.
She remembered now how strange it was for the both of them to gloss over the exact same part of her report. George had paused for half a second before moving on as if he had not seen it. It did not seem to bother him.
But Lockwood…Lockwood had seemed to stare at the paper before him for a long time, and then he breezed past it without giving any good explanation. And afterwards, he had pulled back, leaving her bereft and wondering what was wrong.
“Soulmates only happen through magic,” continued Lockwood as he gazed steadily at her. “They have complementary magical talents, and they can share magical energy between them. In other words – one soulmate is able to temporarily gift small aspects of their magical power to the other.”
She watched him. “You’re magic…has what my visions need…” she breathed, her eyes large as saucers.
Lockwood sighed. “Lucy, it’s not possible for me to be your soulmate. I am a vampire.”
“But…you have magic…”
“Yes,” he conceded, “I have magic. But I am the living dead – a perversion of the very balance magic is made of.”
“…Don’t say that,” she whispered, “That’s not true…it’s not your fault…”
“Weather it’s my fault or not is irrelevant,” he sighed, “The fact still remains – by all usual laws, I should not exist. The mere fact I do is enough to cancel out any possibilities that might otherwise be open from my having magic. I may do you harm if I try and fill in the blank space needed for you to be able to cope better with your visions. I am not your soulmate, Lucy.”
She did not know why those words cut her so deeply, but they did. “Well, if you’re not, then who is? How do I find them? And what if…what if I don’t like them? What if they don’t like me?”
“You’ve already met them,” soothed Lockwood. But that was not helpful. She had met a lot of people in her life. She did not like most of them. “And you already have at least a cordial relationship with them. There are three stages a soulmate connection can exist in; open, possible, and formed. An open soulmate connection means you’ve never met your soulmate. A possible connection is just that: possible. It means you’ve met your soulmate, but the connection has not fully formed. A fully formed connection takes time and a mutual understanding between the two magicals involved. It does not go unnoticed when it properly forms by either party.”
“…My mapping said something about a ‘possible connection’ to someone else through my magic,” she mumbled.
“Yes,” agreed Lockwood softly. “You have already met your soulmate, but you have not had the chance to get to know them well enough for the connection to properly form. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to properly take control of your visions until it does.”
“Do I have to…what does it…how does it work?” she stuttered, trying to speak around the lump in her throat.
Finally, finally Lockwood gave her hand another of his comforting squeezes. “Contrary to what the name may suggest,” he explained, “There is nothing inherently romantic about the connection itself. It’s more functional than anything – often allowing magicals to cope with things they’d never be able to handle otherwise. The connotation of soulmates being romantic evolved over time out of the fact that soulmates are often complementary personalities. A fully formed connection requires some degree of closeness or familiarity, but it does not cause – nor is it caused by – romantic feelings of attraction.”
She tried to take solace in that. “So I don’t have to…”
“You never have to be anything more than friends with whomever your soulmate is,” finished Lockwood. “If you ever do want more, know that is completely your decision.”
…
She was honestly afraid that Lockwood would pull away again, like he did that first time. No matter what he said about soulmates not being inherently romantic; stories do not come out of nothing. If soulmates usually end up together because they are “complimentary personalities” – that sounded a lot like being fated couples to her.
But Lockwood stayed with her, offering the promise that he would do his best to help her discover her real soulmate and form the connection. He still seemed quieter and more reserved than normal, but he stayed.
Flo’s visit latter in the day provided her with the distraction she sorely needed. It was far too easy to fall into the trap of thinking about how everyone would probably assume Lockwood was her soulmate, what with how her magic had flat out refused to calm down until he showed up. ‘I am not your soulmate, Lucy,’ kept playing through her head. It never hurt any less. So, yes, she was happy for the distraction Flo provided.
…
“Before I leave, I have a question for you, Mr. Kipps,” said Lockwood once they exited the building latter that night. Inspector Barnes was not letting up on the requirement of him having an escort, despite proving he would not hurt anyone – Lucy least of all.
“This ought to be good,” muttered Kipps before fixing him with a sardonic look. “Go on then, what’s you’re question?”
“Who might Lucy know with strong visually focused magic?”
Kipps frowned. “Why d’you want to know that?” he asked suspiciously.
“You were there when she had that vision,” sighed Lockwood. “Dr. Bowman believes she has not yet been able to cope with them because her magic can only reveal sounds to her, not images.”
Kipps was quiet for a few moments. Lockwood waited patiently to see if he was going to get an answer or not.
“She has a soulmate connection, doesn’t she?” asked Kipps.
“That is not either of our place to say,” commented Lockwood.
Kipps eyes him for a moment. “I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” he said. “You sure it’s not you though?”
“You know what I am. It can’t be me. It’s not possible.”
“Neither is a vampire with magic, bird-boy.”
“Boy,” sorted Lockwood, “I am older than your great-greandparents, Mr. Kipps. I am no boy.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It can’t be me. I’m the living dead; the connection would never take. It has to be someone else.”
“Her magic wouldn’t calm down for anyone but you.”
“She trusts me, that’s all.”
“Right, because that’s all it was. It’s not like she trusts George or Flo at all – no, clearly it would only work with you,” drawled Kipps.
Lockwood scowled at him. “The connection would never take. It can’t be me,” he ground out.
Kipps looked at him caustically. “Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are me,” commented Kipps airily. “What if you’re wrong? What if it is you?”
“It’s not.”
“Making yourself sound sure of that doesn’t make it true.”
Lockwood had no response to make.
…
She was somewhat relieved the next morning when Lockwood and George showed up as normal. At no point yesterday had Lockwood completely lost the pensiveness that clouded his features. Reassurances or not, she worried he believed himself trespassing on her soulmate because of their own closeness.
“I am not your soulmate, Lucy.” He had sounded so forlorn, as if he wished he could be. Maybe it was just her wishing he could be. But that was a dangerous thought.
Lockwood gave her his usual close-lipped smile when he walked in, and took up his former position next to her without any hesitation. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.
“Like I want to go home,” was her immediate response.
George snorted. “I hate to break it to you Lucy, but I doubt Bowman’s going to let you go for several days.”
She groaned dramatically while Lockwood laughed at her. “Does it help if I promise to keep you entertained in the meantime?” he asked cheekily.
She eyed him consideringly for a moment. “Only if that mean’s you’ll help me sneak out of this room.”
There was a pause, during which she gave him her best pouty look. He cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt collar to hide the action of averting his eyes. “I don’t think I can sanction that, Luce. You need your rest.”
“You’re no fun,” she grumbled. She tried increasing the intensity of her pout to see if that would get her anywhere.
Sadly, George decided he needed to run interference. “Lucy, give the man a break and stop pouting at him,” he sighed. “I will station Kipps inside this room with you lot if I have to to make sure you don’t guilt trip Lockwood into letting you escape.”
Her head snapped over to him. Kipps would definitely not let her get away with a small jaunt outside the room. “You wouldn’t dare!” she gasped.
George folded his arms and gave her a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I?” he asked.
She glared at him for a moment longer before turning back to Lockwood. “Now I know how you must have felt inside that bird cage,” she commented, “He’s mean, isn’t he?”
Lockwood blinked at her for a solid minute before bursting out laughing. George only rolled his eyes at them.
She felt better that Lockwood was not still trapped in the melancholy he was yesterday. Even if he would not let her escape, this would still be a much better day now that he was back to normal.
Chapter 89
Notes:
Aaaand suddenly, I feel like Debbie Downer, 😕
Enjoy? 😁🫣
Chapter Text
It was not until half a week latter that Bowman finally cleared her to go home. She was well and truly sick of the clinic by then.
“You ready to go home Luce?” asked Lockwood when he and George were allowed in that morning.
“God yes,” she breathed. “Get me out of here.”
Lockwood’s eyes glittered playfully as he pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry, fair maiden, I will save you from the evil doctor’s ministrations,” he breathed in her ear, low enough that George did not hear.
His stupid super-speed meant that he was able to evade the smack she aimed at him. He laughed as he danced away. She tried valiantly to will her burning cheeks back into line, with little success.
George only noticed the hold-up when he paused at the door and did not find them waiting behind him. “I thought you wanted to go home? What are you dawdling for?” he threw over his shoulder. When they still did not move right away, he turned back to properly glare at them. “Lucy? You ok?” he asked, a little concerned now, glancing first at her as she tried to hide her burning face, and then Lockwood’s smirk. “Why are you grinning like the cat that just got the cream, Lockwood?”
“Oh, no reason,” drawled Lockwood.
She mouthed a promise of retribution before drawing herself up so she could face George, having successfully cooled her blush.
“It’s nothing, let’s go,” she insisted.
“That’s what I’ve – you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know,” grumbled George.
Lockwood continued to silently laugh as they trooped out into the hall. She studiously ignored him. Their general mirth deflated somewhat once they were all out of the room. Kipps was, as usual, stationed outside to serve as security escort for Lockwood. Right now though, he was more focused on Sergeant Wade’s presence than he was Lockwood’s. She stood in the middle of the hall in the direction of the exit with her arms crossed and her usual frown on her face.
“All three of you need to come with me,” she ordered without giving them anything else to go off.
They all glanced at each other. The frowning crease in Kipps’ face grew more pronounced, but he did not say anything. Without her even realizing, she found herself inching closer to Lockwood, reaching out to clutch his hand. Surely…they could not be in trouble. Lockwood had not hurt anyone! And…he managed to help her get better! Did this mean that Barnes had changed his mind, and decided he could not allow Lockwood to stick around?
“Where are we going?” called George while cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt in his nervousness.
“The Inspector wants to speak with you,” answered Wade immediately. It was not any more helpful than her order to follow.
They lingered where they were for another couple heartbeats. Lockwood sighed before giving her hand a comforting squeeze, then leading her along. When George still did not move, he grabbed his elbow and tugged him after them.
“It’s alright you two,” he murmured as they followed in the wake of Wade. “The Inspector has no reason to change his mind now. I’m sure this is nothing.”
George harumphed from his place on Lockwood’s other side. For her own part, she drifted closer to him as they walked down the hall. Distantly, she registered that Kipps was following along in their wake a few paces behind them.
After no time at all, they found themselves in front of Barnes’ office door, which Wade held open for the three of them. Lockwood gave her a polite nod as he passed, pulling her and George inside after him.
There was a murmured conversation behind them – Kipps was apparently not to be included in the coming conversation, and was told to wait outside. Wade closed the door softly behind her, then crossed the room to stand behind Barnes’ desk at his shoulder the way she always did.
“Sit,” ordered Barnes once everyone was inside.
Lockwood did not hesitate as he led the way, stationing himself in the middle of the three chairs facing Barnes’ desk. George was eyeing Barnes suspiciously in silence. All she could think about was maybe it was not a good idea for Lockwood to be front and centre right now. She took up her seat at his side rather gingerly, perched on the edge and ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
“Inspector Barnes,” said Lockwood calmly, “You wished to speak with us?”
Barnes swept his eyes over the lot of them, taking in her nervous perching and George’s suspicious eyes. “Don’t look so terrified,” he sighed, “None of you are in trouble.”
She did not relax, and Lockwood did not seem to react either. George readjusted his glasses on his face while giving Barnes a calculated look. “Then what is this supposed to be about, if we’re not in trouble?” he demanded after a moment.
In answer, Barnes pulled a vial out of his desk and set it down squarely in front of Lockwood. “Fill that with your venom,” he ordered, watching Lockwood intently.
Lockwood said nothing as he slowly reached for the vial. He uncorked it wordlessly, before extending his fangs and biting down carefully on the little jar.
“What do you want Lockwood’s venom for?” challenged George from Lockwood’s other side.
The little vial was quickly filling with a clear liquid. With all the talk about venom and scent claims, she expected to be able to smell it, but there was nothing she could detect. Maybe you needed the heightened senses of a vampire to tell.
Even though the vial only fit over one of his fangs, Lockwood did not get venom anywhere else. Once the jar was full, he retracted his fangs, replaced the cork, and silently set it back on Barnes’ desk.
Barnes looked from him to the vial for a moment before focusing on George. “I am going to give it to Dr. Bowman and tell him to screen every new bite victim we get against it,” he declared as he took the vial and hid it out of sight in his desk.
“Lockwood hasn’t bitten anyone!” she cried. “He’s been with me or at home since we got back to London!” She glared at Barnes in indignation. The nerve of this –
“Luce,” called Lockwood softly, cutting her off before she managed to really get into her stride. “Inspector Barnes is a police official tasked with protecting the general public against vampires and their attacks. He has allowed me – a vampire – to remain at large. Ensuring he has a way to determine if a bite victim is my fault is not an unreasonable demand for him to make.”
She deflated a little from Lockwood’s calm deconstruction of what was happening. It was times like this she realized how long he had really been alive for. He may look only a few years older than her, but he had much more experience and maturity hidden in his past than she could imagine.
Seeing her agitation still not abating, his hand fell to her knee. “Luce, I’m not offended,” he breathed, “And you shouldn’t be either. The Inspector is just doing his job.”
“You wouldn’t bite anyone,” he insisted under her breath as she hunched in on herself. She was still unhappy, but Lockwood managed to cool the strongest of her anger.
He squeezed her knee and gave her a thin-lipped smile, having heard her anyway.
Barnes had sat watching the entire exchange without interrupting.
“What are we here for then?” asked George after a minute. “If all you wanted was Lockwood’s venom, what did you drag Lucy and I in here for?”
Barnes transferred his focus to Geroge then. “He lives with you, is that correct?” asked Barnes by way of an answer.
George folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Technically, we live with him. It’s his house – he owns it.”
Barnes scowled a little, but seemed to decide not to comment. “You and Miss Carlyle are here because from this day forward, you will both be required to submit yourselves to a mandatory medical evaluation twice a month.”
“What! Why?” she demanded. She sat up straight to stare at Barnes – shocked out of her petulance.
It was Lockwood who answered her. “He wants to make sure that I’m neither feeding directly off the two of you, or drawing your blood so I leave no bite marks.”
“But you wouldn’t do that!” she cried.
“Miss Carlyle –”
“No!” she yelled, glaring daggers at Barnes, “Lockwood wouldn’t do that!”
“Lucy –”
“You can’t honestly be ok with this George!” she snapped when he tried to intervene.
“I’m not really,” asserted George, “But I understand why the Inspector is requiring it.”
“Am I right in assuming that this ‘medical evaluation’ will consist mostly of checking them over for bite or needle marks?” asked Lockwood all of sudden.
Barnes focused back onto him. He neither refuted nor confirmed the claim.
Lockwood drew her attention away from her death-glare at Barnes. “Lucy, I know you don’t like this –”
“Of course I don’t! He’s treating you like a criminal! You didn’t ask to become a vampire!”
“No, I didn’t,” rumbled Lockwood. “But I am one, nevertheless.”
“That shouldn’t matter! You’re not dangerous -!”
“Except I am!” declared Lockwood, shocking her into silence. “I am a vampire and a predator, Lucy. I am dangerous.”
She stared at him in silence for a quivering moment. “…You wouldn’t hurt us…” she breathed.
At some point during the argument, Lockwood had taken both her hands into his. He gripped them tightly now, staring earnestly into her eyes. “You’re right,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t hurt you or George – or anyone else, for that matter. But the fact remains that I could. I could kill everyone in this room before any of you had a chance to blink, and none of you would be able to stop me. The Inspector is letting me live, despite the dangers I pose. Can you understand why he wants to put measures in place to make sure he did not make the wrong decision on that?”
No one said anything for a long time. She found she could not pull her eyes away from Lockwood’s earnestness.
“I don’t like it,” she breathed into the silence.
Lockwood gave her hands a brief squeeze. “I know you don’t,” he sighed. “But will you allow it?”
She spent a long time thinking about it. “What happens if I refuse to do the medical exams?” she asked.
“I will have no choice but to relocate you for your own protection,” answered Barnes immediately.
Her head snapped over to him. “But I don’t have anywhere else to go!”
“DSRAC has resources available for relocating magicals when needed,” explained Barnes. “We would be able to find you someplace to go.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Then I must insist on the regular medical exams.”
“So what, I don’t have any other options?”
“No.”
She blinked in surprise at the answer she got, not having expected it. From what she had seen, Barnes was a good police Inspector who genuinely cared about the well-being of the people he was meant to protect. That was not always the case. But he could also be a by-the-book stick-in-the-mud, and right now, she felt like she might hate him just a little for that.
“How do you expect nobody else to figure out that Lockwood’s actually a vampire if you force Lucy and I to have all these medical exams every month?” asked George as he readjusted his glasses.
Genius George and his smart questions – maybe she could count on him to talk Barnes out of this idea, since it looked like she would get no help from Lockwood.
“I intend to appoint an available nurse from the clinic to the job,” stated Barnes. “They will be responsible for your checkups, which would be conducted in your home and not at the clinic to avoid suspicion. The visits would be strictly off the books.”
“If you’re so worried about us getting eaten, why are you not worried about the same for the nurse?” she jibbed in a sour voice.
Lockwood shot her a tired look. “Lucy,” he sighed.
She crossed her arms and chose to glare at Barnes over his table rather than acknowledge him.
“I intend to send Kipps over before each visit to ensure that Lockwood is not in the vicinity for the duration of the checkups,” answered Barnes immediately.
She shot a furious look at the closed door sitting shut behind them. “He’s agreed to this?” she demanded. She was seriously contemplating clocking him in the face again if he had already agreed to this farce.
“I intended to bring the matter up with him after speaking with the three of you,” offered Barnes with a raised eyebrow. He was clearly not impressed with her attitude. She was not any more impressed with him at the moment, so she did not care. “Miss Carlyle, am I going to have to organized your relocation? Forcibly?” demanded Barnes as he stared unblinkingly at her.
“No,” she grumbled, sucking at her teeth in her irritation.
“You will consent to the checkups?” pressed Barnes.
“…Fine,” she grumbled after chewing on the word for a heartbeat.
“And you, Karim? Do I have to relocate you?” continued Barnes.
“No, I’ll do it,” sighed George.
“Good. That’s settled then.”
Barnes turned his intense frown onto Lockwood again. “Now, as I recall, there was something about a ‘cure’ for vampirism in the recent incident with the vampire Sir John Fairfax. Is that right?”
“Yes,” sighed Lockwood, “A way to restore the shattered soul of a vampire to them. Lucy found the spell right before Fairfax made his move.”
Barnes nodded in understanding, still eyeing Lockwood sharply. “You sought Karim out for help recreating this cure, since Fairfax killed the magical who first managed it almost immediately afterwards, isn’t that right?” he asked.
“Yes. We made a deal – I would supply him with vials of my venom so he could attempt to synthesize an effective antidote, and in exchange, he would help me in recreating the cure.”
Barnes watched him with beady eyes. She thought he was trying to see if he could catch Lockwood in a lie – like he was looking for any reason not to trust him, so he could kill him and get it over with. She shifted her chair forward slightly, so she was positioned diagonally from Lockwood, between him and Barnes, just in case.
“Why did you want the cure?”
“For my sister,” breathed Lockwood.
“I can’t let you use this cure, even if it is for your own family,” stated Barnes like a challenge.
“What!?” she snapped, “Why the hell not!”
She whirled around to share her outrage with George and Lockwood, only to stop short. George looked uncomfortable, but it did not appear as though he was going to challenge Barnes on this. Lockwood just looked resigned.
Lockwood sighed, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re worried about what would happen if Covenist’s found out about it,” he breathed.
“Of course I am,” commented Barnes, “Warding runes are the best defence we have against vampires. As you have proven, this cure eliminates their effectiveness entirely. While I can understand that restoring the shattered soul to a Rampager could be construed as safe, I am not convinced of the same for Covenists. They maintain at least a portion of their mind, even with a shattered soul. Can you give me any guarantee that this cure would stop them from hurting people?”
“…I can’t,” answered Lockwood softly. “I don’t have the aggressiveness or hunger that characterizes most of vampire behaviour because of it, but I am still a vampire, and I still need to feed. It doesn’t take away the heightened senses or abilities…the hunger. It just lets me remember who I am…who I was, so resisting is easier.”
Barnes sat back in his chair for the first time. “I can not, in good conscience, allow you to use this cure on any other vampires,” he stated. Maybe she was imagining it, but she thought she could detect the tiniest hint of regret in his tone. “A single vampire who can walk through wards is one thing. If more started to crop up? The Covenist’s would find out about it. I can not risk that.”
She seethed in her spot, even as Lockwood nodded, casting his eyes to the floor. “Would that still be your decision if I swore to you that no one would ever find out about us, should you let me use the cure on my sister?”
Barnes raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to explain more.
“If you let me cure my sister, we could leave London and go somewhere where no one will ever find us,” continued Lockwood. Suddenly, her indignation crashed down around her ears, leaving a cold feeling behind in its wake. Her palms were sweating as he continued speaking. “I could teach her to feed on me – she won’t remember ever doing anything else – and I know exactly how much I need to feed to stay alive and strong enough where I could support her like that. We would never need to cross paths with a human ever again once we left.”
“The memories of vampires are too long,” sighed Barnes, “We would still run the risk of a Covenist discovering the two of you and connecting you to the capabilities you’ve displayed here – remembering you for them. I can’t allow it.”
Chapter 90
Notes:
Things are going to start happening again guys!
😁
Chapter Text
Finally back home in her own bed, she did not know how to feel. She was still indignant about the medical checks both her and George would have to endure; angry that Barnes was unwilling to allow them to cure Lockwood’s sister.
She understood Barnes’ reasons for both those things. She just did not agree with them. Lockwood would not hurt them. And more than the fact Barnes was withholding Lockwood’s only remaining family from him, Ramagers deserved the chance to live again, even if it was as vampires. If they started curing Rampagers, they could have good vampires like Lockwood who might be willing to fight Covenists in place of human vampire hunters.
But overshadowing all of that, was the shock of the last thing Lockwood had said to Barnes. He had not even hesitated offering to disappear with his sister, never to be seen again. It did not sound like a spur of the moment declaration – he had thought about it before.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door.
“Yeah?” she called out. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts to articulate herself more than that right now.
“It’s me. I brought you hot cocoa. Can I come in?” she heard Lockwood call through.
“Yeah,” she breathed, knowing he would hear her despite how quietly she spoke.
Sure enough, Lockwood came through moments latter, offering out the cup of cocoa. She picked it up – her favourite blue ceramic mug with little white stars decorating the glaze – and shifted over to give him space to sit on the bed next to her.
Lockwood watched her curl her hands around the warm mug and take cautious sips for a heartbeat before he spoke. “I realized today, there is a conversation I should have had with you a long time ago that I haven’t.”
She watched him over the rim of her cup, waiting.
He sighed, gazing off into the middle distance with unfocused eyes. “Lucy, you do realize that eventually, I’m going to have to disappear, don’t you?”
She did not say anything. She continued sipping quietly at her mug of cocoa.
“I can’t stay in one place for too long,” he continued. She heard the pleading edge come into his voice. “If I do, people start to notice that I don’t age, and that’s dangerous. Now that so many people know about me, it’s even more important that I not overstay my welcome.”
“You were going to leave once we cured your sister,” she whispered. She stared into the swirling foam in her cup.
“Yes.”
“When were you going to tell me?” she demanded suddenly. This is what she had really been feeling – she was hurt that he had been planning to abandon them all along without telling her anything.
“When it became relevant,” he offered in a quiet voice.
“Yeah? At what point was that going to happen, when you were already walking out the door?” she challenged. “Were we going to leave for work one day, and then come back to find nothing but a note saying you’d already gone?”
“Of course not,” he insisted immediately, “I’d never do that to you – either of you.”
“Then when? When were you going to tell us? Tell me?” she demanded.
“Lucy,” he breathed as he reached for her. She jerked herself away, hurt bubbling inside her chest like a forgotten pot boiling over on the stove. He froze when she did, heaving a great sigh. “…I should have had this conversation with you a long time ago,” he admitted. “There was every possibility it would have taken years to find the cure, if it ever happened at all. I can safely stay in one place for a decade without garnering suspicion…but that’s no excuse for not saying anything, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
She clutched her cooling mug in her hands while she watched him. She did not move closer and allow him to touch her, but neither did she move away.
“When you found the cure, I knew I’d run out of excuses to avoid the conversation,” admitted Lockwood. “Before I managed to screw up the courage to say anything, Fairfax took you and George. I didn’t want to say anything while you were at the clinic in case it set back your recovery.”
She watched him for a long while. “Did George know?” she asked.
“Yes. It was part of our initial agreement, before I even bought this house and moved in with him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then, when I first got here?”
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “…At first, it was because I didn’t think I’d ever need to,” he admitted. “I’ve helped a lot of magicals over the years. Most of them don’t bother sticking around for that long – preferring to get out while they can and start new somewhere else, further from the threat of vampires. That is what happened with Flo. I rescued her from the Winkman’s, made sure she got the help she needed from DSRAC, and when she was ready, I helped her set herself up. By the time it got to that point though, she already didn’t need my help.”
She did not say anything. She watched him, waiting for what he would say next – if he would say anything at all.
“By the time I realized you weren’t going to do the same, I’d already fallen into the trap of caring too much to ever want to think about having to leave. So I said nothing. I’m sorry.”
Silence elapsed between them then. She continued to sip at her cooling cup of cocoa.
“What happens now?” she asked in a whisper.
Lockwood gazed at her with a question in his eye. “What do you mean?”
“Barnes forbade you from curing your sister,” she said, “What does that mean? What are you going to do now?”
“Are you asking me if I’m going to leave with my sister now anyway, and go somewhere the Inspector can’t stop me from curing her?” asked Lockwood, trying to clarify.
She shrugged. If she had been sitting within reach, she was sure he would have taken her hand again.
“As much as I want to wake her up, I can’t escape the truth of the matter – the Inspector’s worries about Covenists getting hold of the cure are valid concerns. I want to save her, more than anything almost, but not if doing so means I’d be destroying what little safety the world has from the threat of vampires right now…I can’t do that,” he breathed, looking away.
“You said you could stay for a decade safely,” she commented, “Are you going to?”
“Do you want me to?” he countered softly.
“Why were you going to leave once your sister was cured?” she asked instead of answering. Right now, she was not sure what her answer would be.
“If we were to cure my sister, I knew I couldn’t put you or George at risk by staying. She’d need to learn how to control her new nature. That would take time, and it would be too dangerous to risk remaining here with the two of you, lest she lose control and hurt one of you.”
“Do you really think she’d be that much of a danger?” she asked. She had trouble believing it. She could not help remembering the one vision she had of Lockwood’s sister. She only heard her voice – a big sister speaking to her sick little brother – but she sounded like a good person.
Lockwood did not respond to her right away. His eyes were unfocused, and he stared off into the middle distance without seeing anything, a frown on his face. “…I think I brutally killed a man who had no hope of defending himself against me before I realized my own strength…” he whispered. He was so quiet, she almost did not hear him.
She scootched over closer to him then. He shook himself out of his reverie when she bumped his knee with hers.
“Wasn’t he a murder?” she asked softly.
Lockwood regarded her sadly. “Wasn’t I?” he asked, a dark look clouding his face.
“No,” she insisted. Her voice reverberated out, strong and certain. “You didn’t know what you were doing. He did.”
Lockwood gave her a thin-lipped smile that did not reach his eyes before falling silent again. “You never answered my question,” he murmured after a moment.
“What?”
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly.
“…Yes,” she breathed.
His hand fell to her knee then, and gave it a light squeeze. “Lucy, the longer I stay, the less contact I can risk after leaving. If you want me to stay for as long as is safe…we can never have any contact once I leave. I won’t be able to return to London again for a generation, until everyone who could have ever seen me has grown old and died.”
“…I don’t want you to go…”
It was an impossible decision. She hated making it. But she was not ready to see him leave – she probably would never be. Lockwood let her curl into his side; reassurance he was still with her. But he did not return the affection. Something deep in her chest started to ache, like a limb extended away from her body and held in place for too long. She tried her best to ignore it, at least for now.
…
“Are you sure you heard the woman from your latest vision refer to the second man as ‘Tom’?” asked George for what felt like the thousandth time.
“Yes I’m sure,” she snarked. She was already tired of repeating this particular point.
“Why are you so stuck on this?” asked Lockwood from his place at the head of the kitchen table, steaming teacup in hand. “What do you know about who this man might have been?”
George sat back and readjusted his glasses for a moment with a frown on his face. He seemed to glare at the notes he had just written down as if they personally offended him. “I’m harping because I think ‘Tom’ was ‘Thomas Fites’, Lady Marissa Fites’ late husband.”
Lockwood stared at George with a frown on his face. She just ogled him with a bewildered expression.
“I don’t get it, why is this so important?” she asked, looking from one of them to the other.
“It’s important because Thomas Fites’ death was never properly explained. Historians have basically decided his was the first true vampire-caused death, and that’s what prompted Lady Marissa to begin studying real vampires. Sir Rupert Gale was obviously a vampire in this vision, and he seems to have been the one to kill Thomas,” answered George without looking away from his notes.
She still did not get it, so Lockwood moved to fill in the blanks. “Sir Rupert served as Lady Marissa’s right hand and strongest supporter after her husband’s death. Without his help, she would never have been allowed to maintain possession of her family’s lands like she did. If he really was the vampire who killed Thomas Fites…it makes no sense why he continued to answer to her like he did. No Covenist would ever take orders from a human like Sir Rupert seems to have done.”
“Lady Marissa is reported to have refrained from leaving her family estate after her husband’s death,” commented George.
She stared at him. “Are you saying…you think she became a vampire?” she stuttered out after a long moment of silence.
Neither of the boys responded, choosing instead to share a dark look with each other.
“Wasn’t Lady Marissa the one to build the foundation of all knowledge on vampires we still use today?” she asked, needing the clarification.
“She was,” breathed George.
A beat of silence passed between them.
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
“Very,” asserted George without any hesitation.
Chapter 91
Notes:
I'll just sprinkle on a little conspiracy spice here, don't mind me
😁😉
Chapter Text
Someone strolled by, whistling a song out of tune. The sound grating and slightly unhinged.
“Hello wretch,” called the simpering voice of Sir Rupert Gale.
The whistling cut off abruptly.
“You!” snapped the unnamed vampire with the wild eyes. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
“As it so happens, you are too,” mused Gale. “Yet somehow, here we both are.”
“I tore your throat out,” growled the other. “I killed you.”
“Yes,” hissed Gale dangerously, “Now I’m here to return the favour.”
Two vampires snarled as they clashed.
Lucy gasped as she startled awake, cold sweat coating her skin.
…
When she finally did manage to drag herself downstairs for breakfast, Lockwood immediately knew what happened that morning. “Luce? Are you alright? You had another vision, didn’t you?”
George almost dropped the pan of freshly cooked eggs he was platting out. “What!? You did? Let me get my –”
“George,” called Lockwood in fond exasperation. “Maybe you should put down the scalding hot pan in your hands first before you start frantically taking notes.”
Lockwood shook his head behind George’s back as the latter grumbled half-heartedly. Things like “…sure, it’s unsafe when I do it,” and the like.
Lockwood of course could hear everything, and smiled cheekily at his back. It lasted for a moment longer before he shook himself and focused back in on her. “You are alright, aren’t you Lucy?” he asked softly as he set her freshly made cup of tea in front of her and pushed her plate of perfectly buttered semi-burnt toast to her.
“I’m fine,” she placated, “It wasn’t so bad this time.” She began digging into her breakfast then. Lockwood’s hand fell to her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before dropping away as he took his usual seat at the table, his own cup of steaming tea in his hand.
…
George sat back with a thoughtful look in his eye once she finished relaying her latest vision. “So this was another confrontation between this unnamed vampire, and Sir Rupert Gale,” he mused. “I still haven’t been able to pinpoint who the unnamed vampire could have been,” he continued with a frustrated air. “Which is almost as revealing as it is worrying. All of Sir Rupert’s confrontations with vampires were supposedly documented in great detail by Lady Marissa. Everything references her work in some way or another, but the more I dig the more I realize that nothing in recent memory uses a direct reference.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, not having any real idea the importance of “direct references,” as George called them.
He readjusted how his glasses sat on his nose as he frowned at his research notes. “It means that all the information we have on what exactly it is Lady Marissa wrote is being filtered through someone else’s interpretation. Modern contemporary scholars therefore have to deal with biased information before they ever have a chance to set eyes on it.”
“…So everything we know might be completely wrong then?” she asked, trying to see if she was really following.
“Worse than that,” interjected Lockwood darkly, “All of it may have been purposefully designed to be misleading.”
George cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt in his agitation. “Exactly. What one person intends for something to mean, and what other people think they mean are two completely separate ideas. That’s why it’s important to use primary references in research – if you get ideas directly from the person who first had them, it clears the waters a little and makes it easier to see what the original intention of them may have been.”
“Do you think someone’s deliberately done it to hide something though?” asked Lockwood with a considering frown.
George replaced his glasses and swept his calculating eyes over the both of them. “…I do,” he declared without hesitation.
“Why?” she asked. It was not that she doubted him – far from that. It was that she knew he would not make such a declaration lightly.
“While you were still in the clinic, I spent my time at work researching the rune Barnes used to cover for Lockwood’s vampiric reaction to silver.”
“…Right, and?” she prompted.
“Barnes actually put through an order that allows me leave to do all my own research without having to supply the field agents with leads on covens or vampires and still make money. He’s never done that before. Those kinds of work directives are very rare in DSRAC.”
Lockwood was gazing consideringly at the ceiling. “…You think he’s trying to tell you something…or is trying to get you to put together pieces of a puzzle he himself has struggled to understand.”
“Yes. You don’t really know him Lockwood, but Barnes is so by-the-book, it’s sometimes frightening. For him to have covered for a vampire is unprecedented – it should not have happened. And yet, it did. He let you go; let you try and save Lucy from Fairfax. And even more than that, he made sure no one else knew you are a vampire. All by employing this one rune that the higher officials of DSRAC seemed to know, but the rest of us had no idea existed.”
“Are you saying you think DSRAC is compromised by vampires?” she asked, suddenly nervous.
“Not exactly,” he answered immediately.
“If DSRAC was really completely compromised by Covenist vampires, field agents would be turning up dead in much grater numbers than they are,” commented Lockwood.
“Yes, exactly!” exclaimed George. “Covenist’s would want to quietly cripple DSRAC’s ability to aid magicals and raid covens. They’d be picking field agents off fast enough to make a sever dent in DSRAC’s available response force, while being quiet enough about it to not arouse suspicion. That hasn’t happened – in fact, over the last 10 years, the number of field agents employed by DSRAC has increased by 40% year over year pretty consistently. Almost all of that hiring has come from the seats of the highest board in DSRAC, and was funnelled through only a select few others – including Barnes.”
“So…DSRAC command hasn’t been compromised?” she tried to summarize. She really hoped she was managing to follow.
“Correct,” agreed George not a second latter. She released a quiet sigh of relief. “DSRAC command does not seem to be compromised…but there are other indications that some of the outlying branches are a different story.”
“…Like what happened in my hometown…” she whispered.
Lockwood’s hand found her knee under the table and he gave her a comforting squeeze. She glanced up to find him giving her a soft, thin-lipped smile. Feeling somewhat bolstered, she returned the gesture.
George paused in his fervency to give her a sad look. “…Like what happened in your hometown,” he agreed after a moment. “It was a rural branch with such a small population that a single agent should have been more than enough to keep proper tabs – but that single agent turned out to be a washed out vampire hunter who really should have been retired long before he was shipped off to the countryside like that.”
“What does this have to do with the rune?” asked Lockwood after everyone allowed that information to settle for a moment.
George seemed to shake himself as he refocused. “Like I said – Barnes has been part of the massive push in DSRAC to hire more field personal over the last decade. He already had knowledge of this rune that causes a vampiric reaction to silver. I also found out that all the personal at the Berkshire branch where you were taken were hired under Barnes’ directive – the highest ranking officials of whom also knew about the rune.”
“What’s so special about the rune?” she asked again. Hopefully, he would get to the important part soon. It was all fascinating stuff, in a terrifying sort of way – but she really just wanted to know the ending of the story.
“It’s only a partial rune mark,” declared George.
Lockwood sat up straighter, expression intense. “What do you mean, ‘partial’?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” countered George. “The rune that Barnes used to cover for you is part of a larger spell. And to go even further than that? The only references to the rune come from second- or third-hand accounts of Lady Marissa’s writings on vampires.”
Chapter 92
Notes:
I'm stretching my google medical knowledge searches to the limit here, because the medical checks are starting, and I needed to know what someone would be looking for if they were checking over someone for signs of frequent blood draws. Hopefully I didn't get anything egregiously wrong. (I don't think I did, but you know. My nurse roommate is currently in another country, so it's not like I could have asked them about it 😕) (on an unrelated note, I wonder how many writers are on watch lists somewhere because of their google searches...) 😁
In case you're all worried now, this is mostly just Lucy being annoyed about the whole thing, so you know,
Enjoy!
(I hope 🤞🏻)
Chapter Text
Two weeks passed since her release from the clinic. Only during the last of which had she been allowed back to active cures-breaking duty.
“I don’t care if you like it,” drawled Kipps over the phone when she called to yell at him about that. “Dr. Bowman recommended against you returning to active duty for another week when he let you out. You’re not coming back until your times up.”
“But I feel fine!” she argued.
“I’m sure you do,” conceded Kipps, “Remind me again exactly how long it took your magic to calm down.”
She scowled at the phone in sullen silence. It had been long enough that even Dr. Bowman had started to worry if she was going to recover properly at all. Kipps let her stew for another long moment.
“I’ll see you back at work next week,” offered Kipps into the silence.
She hung up on him then.
Later, when Lockwood asked if she wanted to spar to work off some of her frustration, she jumped at the chance. She did not need to use magic to spar with Lockwood, so it was fine. Lockwood still beat her every time. She was at least satisfied that she was finally making him work for it. He was too controlled to use the full breadth of his speed or strength against her, but even so. He was not immediately disarming her anymore with a cheeky, close-lipped smile and shimmering eyes.
…
The Saturday morning of her second week out of hospital saw her sitting in the library and doodling absently on a corner of a page in her sketchbook. Yesterday’s relics had been chores to break. Her newfound ability of finding magical purpose seemed to work better the more powerful the magic was. Black magic that was two steps further into the shadows than trickster was hard to find that way. She ended up resorting to the old way of breaking the relics, and that meant exposing everyone to the active presence of black magic in the room. She was beat.
She startled out of her musing when the doorbell rang.
“Is anyone expecting someone?” she called out as she abandoned her sketchbook to peer into the front hallway.
The clamouring doorbell rang again, more insistently this time. George poked his head out of his room, looking around with an annoyed expression. “Not me,” he said, casting the door a scathing look as whoever was out there started leaning on the doorbell.
She marched towards the door to bully whoever was making a nuisance of themselves just as Lockwood came out from the kitchen to investigate. “Just open the door,” he sighed, “I believe I know what this is about.”
His apparent exhaustion did nothing to curb her annoyance as she threw open the door. The scathing reprimand she had ready died on her lips when she saw Kipps standing on the front step with his arms crossed and a scowl of his own in place.
“What do you want?” she snapped in her surprise.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Gee Lucy, it’s great to see you too,” he rebuked.
She only scowled harder, grinding her teeth. “Why are you here?”
“Is bird-brain around anywhere?”
“DON’T CALL HIM THAT!” she yelled in his face.
“Lucy?” called Lockwood calmly from over her shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“No it’s not! He can’t just –”
“Lucy,” rumbled Lockwood with a small laugh. “While I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t need to. It’s not the man’s fault he’s incompetent at delivering humour.”
She sniggered unhelpfully as Kipps fumed on the step. He pointed a finger threateningly at Lockwood’s face. “You, are coming with me,” he growled.
Lockwood sighed. “I am to take it then, that the Inspector has ordered Lucy and George’s first check-up?”
Kipps folded his arms and glared at Lockwood. She felt a flutter of unease enter her chest. She had forgotten about being force to agree to those checkups. It still seemed ridiculous to her Barnes was requiring them. They had no say in who the Inspector sent – the had no idea if it was someone they could actually trust or not.
“Who is –”
“I can’t tell you who’s coming,” cut in Kipps before she could fully formulate her question. “Barne’s doesn’t want him,” he jabbed a finger in Lockwood’s direction, “to know. I’m supposed to take him off the premises and far enough away that he has no chance to figure out who came.”
“You do realize that no matter how far away you take me, this nurse’s scent will still be in the house when I come back. I’ll know who they are no matter where we go,” commented Lockwood.
Kipps’ forehead creased in his annoyance. “Whatever – that’s Barnes’ problem to deal with. You’ve still got to come with me.”
“But –”
“No,” growled Kipps, cutting her off again.
Lockwood took hold of her shoulder as he made to step past her and join Kipps outside. “Remember, you agreed to this Luce,” he said softly.
She folded her arms and stared at the ground unhappily. “I don’t remember being given much choice in the matter.”
“You still agreed,” pointed out Kipps.
“It’s alright Luce,” soothed Lockwood, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “It’ll just be a quick physical checkup, to look for needle or bite marks. It won’t take long.”
“I still don’t like this,” she murmured.
But her not liking it did not change anything. Kipps still dragged Lockwood out to who-knew-where. She still had to sit and wait for the unnamed DSRAC nurse to show up, and then suffer through the physical checkup. George emerged from his room to sit and wait with her where she collapsed in the living room.
“This is pointless,” she grumbled from her place across from him.
“Yes,” agreed George, “It’s certainly a pain. But Barnes had to do something, and this is the best he could come up with.”
They did not have to wait long for the doorbell to ring again. George went to answer it this time – she was too busy giving the wall across from her a death glare strong enough to melt iron.
It turned out the nurse assigned the secret task of checking them was Holly. Of all the options Barnes could have picked…she minded Holly the least. Holly was perfectly professional and pleasant. She apologized for having to invade their privacy like this – but she had her orders.
Since George was already up, Holly did him first. He did not come back out of his room when Holly returned.
“I believe he was more interested in continuing his research than coming back out,” offered Holly by way of apology as they went up to her room for her exam. “I’m not even sure he bothered getting dressed again,” she continued in a more pensive tone.
“Getting dressed again?” she asked. What was that about?
Holly gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve been ordered to check the both of you for signs of vampire bites, blood draws, or catheters. One of the places a catheter can be placed is in a large vein in the groin area.”
She almost backed out right then and there, after hearing that. But she knew she could not do that, as much as she wanted too. If Barnes found out she refused the checkup, he would ship her off somewhere else, and she could not have that.
She dragged her feet as much as humanly possible. But no amount of stalling was going to stop this from happening. Once they finally got to her room, she was mortified to have to strip down to her skivvies. To her credit, Holly was quick and efficient with the checkup, and it was over quickly.
Holly left with another soft apology. She did not pay much attention.
When Lockwood came back, she was still fuming about the experience. “I didn’t know we’d have to strip for this!” she whined.
He did not make any comment – he just sent her an understanding look.
“You knew that would happen, didn’t you?” she accused after watching him with narrowed eyes for a long moment.
He sighed. “I worked as a nurse in A&E not three years ago. I know all the places you can put a central venous catheter. The common femoral vein in the groin is one of those places.”
“Well, I didn’t know that!”
“You have to remove your clothes when you get an ordinary checkup at the doctors anyway,” commented George without looking up from the research he brought to the kitchen table with him while dinner was in the oven. “I don’t see what the difference is.”
She continued to sulk for the rest of the night. She felt a little better when Lockwood appeared with a cup of hot cocoa for her.
…
The next week they found out the hard way how serious Barnes was about these checkups and making them as unpredictable as possible. Late in the week Kipps essentially detained both her and George at headquarters after work.
Holly once again seemed sympathetic to their plight, even as she carried out the orders she was given.
Apparently, you could have catheters surgically implanted under the skin. Her and George had chest x-rays taken to make sure they did not have one. It found nothing, because of course it would not find anything! She went home that night positively fuming. Neither George nor Lockwood were successful in making her feel better about the whole thing.
Chapter 93
Notes:
alright guys, I'm making things happen again. Let's see who can guess who's involved in the newest conspiracies 😉🤐
Chapter Text
“My Lady,” simpered the smooth voice of a man.
“Yes? What news have you?” asked a sharp-voiced woman.
“The magical Fairfax failed to take? It is her – the one we’ve been looking for. I’m sorry to say, she works for DSRAC now.”
“You know this for certain?”
“My weak link was very forthcoming, just as I thought they would be. It wasn’t even necessary to employ a thrall on them.”
“My, how did you manage to find yourself such an eager one? What did you promise them?”
“Oh, it was nothing. I merely suggested the possibilities of what we seek.”
A dangerous laugh sounded through the room. Thoughtful humming and long, sharp nails clacking on a hard surface echoed out. “Possible indeed, provided we manage it with this one. What more can you tell me?”
“DSRAC has everything we could ever need to know about the girl. She’s had her magic mapped,” continued the man in a drawl.
“Do you think your weak link would be able to steal her report?” asked the woman in her cutting voice.
“I would not trust them to manage it,” admitted the man. “I doubt they’d have the nerve.”
“Hmm. A mapping does us no good if we cannot access it.”
“We may have another option.”
“Which is?” prompted the woman, a bite to her voice.
“Our agent from the last time we found her will be hauled into DSRAC headquarters soon. He may be of use to us once again. Properly, this time,” purred the man.
The woman snorted. “That’s hardly better than your snivelling weak link.”
“We have more play to force his hand.”
“True.” Silence elapsed for a time then. “What of the other two? The researcher, and especially the shifter?”
“The researcher is George Karim – the same one who somehow managed to develop the anti-venom DSRAC employs across the board now,” explained the man. “He and the girl appear to be living together.”
“And the shifter?” pressed the woman.
There was a beat of silence. “I have less to tell you on that front, My Lady. My new little whelp is not on close enough terms, it seems, to know so much as their name. I have sent agents out and they have found me nothing but whispers as of yet. It seems only a handful of people within DSRAC know who they are. We have no way to access any more information while escaping notice, I’m afraid.”
“This shifter continues to impress me – to have remained so elusive,” commented the woman.
A weighted silence stretched out again. “Well, I see no reason not to dangle the carrot in front of your whelp a little more – tell them if they want our prize, to get us more information on what secrets this George Karim is managing to dig up. And I want that mapping report. See that we get it, I don’t care how. And tread carefully with the shifter. I believe there is more to them than we realize right now.”
“My Lady,” simpered the man. He gave her a sweeping bow, then left without another word.
…
Life fell into a familiar rhythm. She did not see George around very much these days – he was always holed away in his room while at home, trying to dig through records and references to try and find where on earth his primary source had ended up.
To her consternation, Barnes was not backing off on the requirement of the medical checkups. She held out hope the first couple months the continued absence of anything wrong would eventually change his mind. There would be no such luck, it seemed.
“I am sorry it irks you so,” whispered Lockwood late one night after another visit.
“Hm? Oh. It’s not your fault. Barnes is the one making us do it,” she reasoned.
Lockwood watched the fire in the grate for a long time. His eyes reflected flashes of the bright flame as it danced. She could not help but compare the two. Inherently dangerous, and yet, home would not be the same without them.
“…He would stop if I was no longer here…” beathed Lockwood.
She froze where she was working on a new drawing with the coloured pencils he gave her all that time ago. “You want to leave?” she asked. She refused to raise her eyes from her work.
Lockwood did not answer her right away. It started to worry her. But then he spoke, “No. I don’t.” Her sigh of relief was a little pre-mature though, because he did not stop there. “But I’m beginning to wonder if I’m only hurting you both by staying.”
“You’re not hurting us,” she breathed as she risked a glance at him.
He gave her a faint twitch of a smile. “Not directly,” he conceded, “But you’re not happy. And he might be less vocal about it than you, but I know George finds the checkups tiresome too.”
…
She found herself pounding on Barnes’ office door the next day during her lunch break at work. The scowl he gave her as he whipped it open told her he was not happy. Well, ditto; she was not either.
“You have something to say Carlyle?” snipped Barnes with a raised eyebrow.
Suddenly she felt a little off-kilter. She could not very well have a screaming match with him in the middle of the hall, no matter how much she might want to. “Can we talk?” she asked instead of beginning her planned rant. It escaped her grasp now anyway.
Barnes seemed to debate if it was worth her temper to deny her before stepping back and allowing her inside. The door closed crisply behind her.
She cleared her throat a little nervously as he stared her down, waiting for her to get started. “You’ve been getting the reports from George and I’s checkups?” she asked in a voice that came out a little higher than normal in her anxiousness. She cleared her throat again to try and get rid of the squeak.
Barnes’ expression did not change. “Yes,” was all he said.
“Ok,” she stuttered, “Good. So…you know there’s never been anything wrong then?”
He folded his arms and continued to glower at her.
She licked her lips before barrelling on. “It’s just that…it’s been a couple months now, and every time we have a checkup, it tells you nothing is wrong…so I was wondering if…they were really…necessary still?”
“You are not getting out the checkups, Carlyle,” barked Barnes. “Neither you, nor Karim.”
“But Holly keeps telling you nothings wrong!” she argued back, “Nothing’s ever going to be wrong!”
“If you won’t allow the checkups, I can’t allow your current living arrangements to continue,” stated Barnes bluntly.
“But that’s not fair! Nothing is wrong!” she yelled.
Barnes did not react in any way – he only continued to stand there and glower at her. “Maybe it’s not, but it’s the way it is.”
“I trust Lockwood,” she growled.
Barnes’ stony façade cracked a little then, and he sighed. “That, Miss Carlyle, is exactly why I’m not going to budge on this matter.”
A ringing silence filled the office after that declaration.
“That makes…no sense. That’s just stupid!” she cried.
“Why do you trust him so much?” countered Barnes then, frustration really bleeding into his tone now.
“He’s saved me,” came her immediate answer, “More than once.”
“From your story, you trusted him long before he ever did that. Why?”
“I just…he felt…safe,” she stuttered. She was spinning now, no longer certain which way was up.
“But why?” pressed Barnes more insistently.
She did not answer.
“Why, Carlyle? Why did you trust him?”
“…I don’t know…” she breathed, unsure.
Barnes heaved a great sigh. He rubbed tiredly at his temples. She wondered if she had given him a headache. Then again, maybe he was always getting headaches in his line of work.
“I’ll make you a deal Carlyle,” breathed Barnes. “When you can give me a good answer as to why you trusted a vampire so readily, I’ll put a stop to the mandatory checkups.”
…
“You seem distracted,” stated Kat after lunch.
She glanced over to find the other girl watching her like a hungry, haughty hawk. George glanced up from his notes and shot her a searching look.
“I’m…fine,” she tried to deflect.
Kipps never missed an opportunity to be overbearing though, so he chipped in. “Kat’s right,” he said as he pinned her with his challenging stare. “You were huffy and snappish before lunch, and now you’ve gone all quiet. What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she sighed. George continued to try dissecting her thoughts with his eyes alone.
Kipps sent her home for the day. Distraction and curse-breaking were two things that did not go together well.
…
Lockwood was not there when she went home. She did not know where he would have gone.
Barnes’ question still bothered her. In no way had his insistence made her doubt Lockwood. But he posed a good question; why did she trust him so much? Flo, and George, and even Lockwood himself had told her magic inherently distrusted vampires. It was fact – everyone knew it. And yet…her magic trusted Lockwood. And it should not have. Not at all.
Was it just that he had his soul back?
But that could not be the real answer. Flo told had told her that she did not trust Lockwood off the cuff. Not until he’d proven himself to her, did she trust him. By using magic.
Was that it? Lockwood could use magic, so magic decided it could trust him again?
The same problem came up there though too.
It came down to her. She was the only loose end in this. Lockwood had been so careful in the beginning. He’d tried his hardest to never show vampiric abilities around her. All because he was afraid of scaring her off. But she’d never been afraid. Not once.
Lockwood had not truly believed she trusted him until after she got mad when he kept dancing around her while trying to teach her to protect herself. He’d actively tried frightening her then. And she had not been. She was startled, sure, but not afraid.
Barnes posed a good question. She had no idea how to answer it.
Lockwood came home around an hour after she got in. He was surprised to find her.
“What happened? Why are you not at work?” he asked.
She scratched uncertainly at her head. Did she want to give him the real reason? It would only make him feel bad. She did not want to do that – he was already talking about leaving. “I…got into an argument with someone over lunch at work and was still worked up afterwards. Kipps banished me from curse-breaking for the rest of the day, and sent me home.”
Lockwood eyed her for a long moment. “…You fought with the Inspector, didn’t you?” he breathed. “You made your case to stop the checkups, and he didn’t budge.”
She blinked wide eyes at him.
“Do the checkups really bother you that much Lucy?” he asked softly.
She dropped her eyes to her hands, twisting her fingers together as she really thought about it. “…No,” she finally settled on.
The checkups were a pain, but they never lasted long, and she did not mind Holly. It took three visits for her to see that Holly did in fact have a spine – she was not all politeness and order. She’d acted particularly troublesome on that visit, and had been surprised when Holly laid down the law in no uncertain terms. She respected the nurse much more after finding out that she could be frightening when she wanted to be – she just chose to be unflappable and polite most of the time.
“…It’s not fair,” she whispered. “You won’t hurt anyone, and Barnes keeps acting like the second he lets down his guard, you will. It’s not fair to you.”
Lockwood’s eyes shone as he examined at her. She felt like she could see all the years laid out before him in his eyes. He let out a single burst of air, the corners of his lips twitching up into a close-lipped smile. “You object to the checkups not because they bother you, but because you think they’re morally reprehensible.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Now you’re making it all posh-sounding when it’s not.”
He laughed softly then.
Chapter 94
Notes:
A little bit of fluff, and a little bit of angst.
Enjoy! 😉😁PS. I've recently started a new job, and going forward I'm going to have a lot less free time to devote to this story, so don't be concerned if updates seem much slower in coming. We're very near the end anyway, but I just wanted to let you all know, and to reassure everyone that I'm not going to leave you all hanging without finishing the story! I hope you'll stick around for the end, and enjoy the ride in the meantime! 💝
Chapter Text
The next time her mandatory rest day in the middle of the week came up, she spent a good portion of the morning playing tea bag poker with Lockwood. It was exactly the same as normal poker – except they used tea bags instead of money for bets. She would have preferred to use biscuits. But Lockwood could not eat them, and George would have had a fit if he came home and found all the biscuits gone because they decided to play poker with them. He had this rule about only taking one at a time in strict rotation between them. Breaking it was a capital offence in his books.
The first few games, she wiped the floor with Lockwood. It was only after that, when he completely turned the tables on her that she realized he’d purposefully been going easy.
She threw down her latest hand in frustration, having once again been called out on her bluff and loosing to him spectacularly. “Your cheating,” she griped.
He gave her a dramatic, wounded look, completing the image of indignation with a hand covering his heart. “Luce, you wound me. I’d never dare –”
“You’re cheating,” she growled again. “I don’t know why I decided it would be a good idea to play a bluffing game with someone who can literally hear my heartbeat.” She pointed a threatening finger at him when she noticed his eyes start to sparkle as he attempted to suppress his mirth. “You purposefully threw the first few games so I’d forget!”
Lockwood lost the battle to keep his cheek off his face and started laughing as he gathered his spoils together. “I was wondering when you’d make the connection.”
He sat there hording his two weeks worth of tea – the one week’s worth they each started with. He cleared her out, and now she would have to go the week without.
If Lockwood was going to play dirty though, so was she.
She sat there and sulked to cover watching for her opening. Lockwood dumped all of his teabags into an empty tin he pulled out of the back of the cupboard earlier. He shot her a close-lipped approximation of a cheshire smile, then turned to saunter away with his winnings. The second he started turning, she pounced. Quick as a flash, she sprang up and barrelled into him. He crashed backwards into the couch he’d just stood from. Before he had a chance to recover, she snatched the tin and tore from the room shouting, “If you’re not going to play fair, then neither am I! These are mine now!”
What followed was a 20-minute-long chase around the house as Lockwood attempted to retrieve his stollen winnings. She got a decent head start on him as he tried to recover from the surprise of her attack.
“Got you!” he announced when he finally managed to catch her.
She giggled madly as she clutched her ill-begotten gains to her chest, hunching over the tin in an effort to keep it away from him still.
Lockwood managed to grab her as she tried to make a dash for the stairs after having been corralled in the basement. “Luce,” he rumbled in her ear, “I think you owe me some teabags.”
“We split them?”
He pondered the offer for a long moment while she tried to suppress her laughter. “I’ll concede to it,” he finally settled on.
Ah, perfect. Still grinning fit to burst, she carefully counted out a portion of the teabags and handed them off before dashing away again.
“Hey,” he called as she disappeared up the stairs, “This isn’t half!”
“I didn’t say half, I said we’d split them! They’re split!” she called back as she ran away snickering.
…
After their eventful morning, she retreated to the living room and spread out her painting supplied on the coffee table to work on her attempt at Queen Mary’s Rose Garden. Lockwood drifted off to the basement to practice his swordsmanship again.
An hour after she started working, she nearly smudged a just-finished rose bed as the front door flew open and colourful cursing spilled into the house.
“George?” she asked, startled as he came into view of the doorway to the sitting room, his arms full of books and his face tinged red from carrying the weight. “What are you doing home?”
He was too busy with the library in his arms to be capable of answering.
“Do you want help?” she asked tentatively as several old looking books escaped his grasp and fell to the floor on their spines before slamming open on the ground.
“Yes, please,” wheezed George, trying to save more books from a similar, or worse fait.
By now, the ruckus had caught Lockwood’s attention, and she saw him emerge from the direction of the kitchen.
“What’s going on? Why are you home so early?” he asked once he saw them.
She saved another book mid-air from its descent to the floor, and then began to pick up the ones already scattered around.
Only once George was sufficiently relieved of his burden did he stop looking like he was two steps away from collapsing under the weight. He thanked them both for their help getting the books up to his room, but then ordered them from the premises. “I don’t want to be interrupted right now,” he gripped. “So, thank you for your help, but please, go away now.”
“George?” prodded Lockwood even as he followed the order to leave. “What’s got you so riled up?”
George angrily cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt, sending a scowl into the ether. “Kept getting interrupted at the DSRAC archives,” he answered crisply, “Was difficult to get any work done, so I got fed up and decided to take things home to continue my research here.”
He did not offer any other explanation than that. The bedroom door closed with a definitive slam once her and Lockwood were in the hall.
“Who do you suppose was bothering him so much?” she asked idly.
Lockwood shrugged. “I have no idea. I’d bet it was another researcher though.”
Having lost so much time already, George did not come down for supper at the usual time, and she had to scape together something for herself. “Should we be worried that he’s not coming down to eat?” she asked as she munched her freshly grilled cheese sandwich.
Lockwood shook his head. “I’ll remind him to remember to eat. He’s usually good about not skipping meals – just delaying them.”
…
Strangeness persisted the next morning when she came down to find George in the middle of cooking bacon and eggs. Her usual spread of buttered toast and freshly brewed tea made just the way she liked it was noticeably absent.
“Is Lockwood not here?” she asked as she yawned.
“I don’t think so, no,” answered George.
She shot him a bewildered look as she was forced to go through the motions of making her own morning tea. “Where would he have done, do you think? Did he go hunting last night or something?”
“No. Lockwood only hunts during the day, if he can help it. Less vampires around to notice him smelling like a deer or something. If word got out about how he feeds, he’d lose all respect in vampire social circles,” offered Geroge. “Last night, when he forced me downstairs to eat something, he suddenly got all antsy, and said he needed to go check something. I guess he hasn’t come back yet.”
“He was out all night?”
“…Yeah?”
“He hasn’t gone out like that since he organized out ticket into that relic auction,” she mussed as the kettle boiled.
Geroge gave her a wary look, but was spared from needing to come up with a response by Lockwood’s arrival.
“Lockwood!” she called, relieved.
He looked a little careworn – a term she would not usually use to describe him.
“Hey,” he breathed, “Good morning.”
“Where were you? What happened last night?”
He rubbed tiredly at his face for a moment, avoiding their eyes. “I’m going to call the Inspector,” he announced. George froze at his place by the stove, back facing the room. She openly gaped in shock, but Lockwood was not finished. “He needs to be made aware. You should both move out and take places in the dorms DSRAC has at headquarters.”
The silence that followed was cloying and sour. George surreptitiously turned the stovetop off and took the bacon from the heat before shooting a side eyed look at Lockwood.
“What!?” she yelped, unable to come up with anything better to say, “Why!?”
Lockwood appeared tense, and continued to refuse to look them in the eye. He focused on a spot a foot over her head as he answered. “You both have to leave. You’re not safe here anymore,” he declared.
A cloying feeling rose in her throat, and she felt her eyes begin to prickle, threatening tears. Once again, her magic got a strange feeling; the quivering muscle exhaustion that comes from holding a single extended pose for much too long. “But why!?” she demanded again.
Lockwood dropped his eyes to the floor, still without looking directly at her, and sucked in an exhausted breath.
“You are not safe here anymore,” he stated again.
He turned to leave – presumably to go and call Barnes. She grabbed for his arm to stop him, and tried to drag him back. He stopped, but despite her efforts, she could not make him move or turn around.
“Tell me why you’re throwing us out!” she cried as she struggled to make him face her.
She felt the wiry muscles under her hand coil, but Lockwood did not move, and did not turn around.
“Why?” she chocked, trying not to sob.
“The Shadows Coven is pressing at my territory,” breathed Lockwood. And then he was gone, the door swinging shut as she suddenly found herself clinging onto thin air instead of his arm.
Chapter 95
Notes:
I'm being mean again...
😁😈
Chapter Text
The cordless phone dock was already empty by the time she recovered from her shock enough to rush into the front hall. She managed to arrive in time to hear Lockwood’s bedroom door swing shut, and the lock click into place.
“Why won’t you tell us what’s happening!?” she screamed into the void.
Nothing but a ringing silence greeted her. The house seemed to hold its breath. The feeling of muscle tiredness from deep inside her magic continued. She wondered what would happen if it finally collapsed.
Trying to choke back tears, she ran upstairs – past Lockwood’s closed door, past the door hiding his sleeping sister they were still not allowed to wake up. She slammed her own door closed when she reached it. Her hands fumbled with the lock for a second before she managed to click it into place. She slumped against the worn old wood.
Dimly, she registered something glinting in her blurry vision. A spear of light from her window shone on the polished surface of the silver charm Lockwood had given her, all that time ago.
Sudden crushing anger seized her, and she ripped the thing from her neck, hurling it across the room. It made a satisfying clang as it hit her wardrobe, but she did not feel any better. Somehow, she managed to stumble her way to her bed before she collapsed, finally succumbing to her tears as she sobbed into her pillow.
…
Inspector Barnes sat behind his overstuffed desk. Teetering piles of paper hemmed him in. Most of it had to do with his newest pet problems – Karim, Carlyle, and their vampire friend, Lockwood.
He still astonished himself – allowing a vampire to live. Especially one who could walk through wards unhindered. But Lockwood was not mindlessly aggressive in the way characteristic of his kind. And as hard as it is for him to admit, that Carlyle and Karim are still around is thanks entirely to him. He knew he would never have thought to look in Berkshire for Carlyle, but Lockwood knew exactly where to go.
There were advantages to having an actual vampire on side. The only question remaining was if it would prove to be worth it, long-term.
He believed the story of feeding on game in the woods when he heard it; otherwise, he would not have let Lockwood live. But he half expected the medical exams to find evidence Lockwood was feeding on Carlyle or Karim anyway. They were all genuine friends. It seemed like a logical assumption that the two humans would either want to, or be convinced of helping Lockwood out by letting him feed on them. But there was nothing. No bite marks – not on the neck, wrists, or anywhere else. No catheters. No needle marks. Lockwood had not touched either of his housemates.
And then there was Karim’s theory about the vampire being Lucy’s magical soulmate. When he consulted Dr. Bowman about the ludicrous theory, he was astonished by the knowing smile the doctor had given him.
“I’ve known there was more to Carlyle’s ‘pet bird’ than met the eye since her mapping,” admitted the doctor when he pressed for an explanation. “I felt how her magic leaned towards him. Since I could not explain that kind of connection with an actual animal, that meant the bird had to be a person in disguise.”
Leave it to Dr. Bowman to find out there was a magical masquerading as someone’s pet bird and not mention it to anyone.
As much as he wanted to, he knew he could not separate those three. Especially not Lockwood and Carlyle.
His phone rang. One of his tottering piles of papers crashed to the floor. He spared it only a second’s worth of a despondent look before answering. It was never good news when his phone rang in the middle of the day.
“Hello?”
“Inspector Barnes,”
He blinked at his phone. He made a point of remembering that voice. He was glad now that he left a note with the receptionist at the front desk to put through any calls coming from the Portland Row residents. “Why are you calling here?” he asked warily.
There was a beat of silence. He frowned at the hesitation.
“You need to move Lucy and Geroge into the dorms I know DSRAC has at their headquarters. Today.”
That was…unexpected.
“This sounds like the kind of conversation that needs to happen face-to-face. I’ll be over shortly.”
He waited for the mumbled acceptance, then hung up the phone. Casting one last forlorn look at his toppled and disordered paperwork, he dragged on his jacket and left to gather Sergeant Wade.
…
She felt herself trembling as if from exhaustion the same way she would after being forced to do the beep test in PE class in school. It felt like her magic was heaving, trying to hold onto something she could not name for as long as possible, keeping pace with that stupid beep, but fading slowly.
It felt like magic was watching her – a physical presence in the room. She stood, hovering on the edge of something. But she did not know what. Magic did though. It knew, and it was in the room with her, watching, waiting.
She tried muffling the sounds of her sobs in her pillow. She did not want an audience she could neither see nor comprehend for her breakdown.
…
It did not take him long to collect Wade. When he told her what little he knew, she nodded her understanding and then left to get the car ready without another word.
He used to mistake Wade’s silence for disdain. She was always around, always doing everything requested of her. But that did not mean she respected him. He realized he was wrong when she started bringing him coffee unasked. The time she did it after a particularly bad case where they lost a whole rooming house of magicals who were living together for safety, he realized she might even be a sort of friend.
All said, it took them less than 30 minutes to reach Portland Row. He mounted the steps – Wade at his heel – and raised a hand to knock on the door. His fist did not have a chance to make contact before it was opening of its own accord to reveal the vampire standing in the entrance.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Inspector, Sergeant,” offered Lockwood as he ushered them inside.
He watched as the vampire started to lead them towards what he knew from previous experience was the sitting room, only to pause and switch direction mid step. “We can speak in the library,” offered Lockwood as he continued down the hall.
He frowned again. Surreptitiously, he cast an evaluative look over the sitting room as he passed the open doorway. Nothing seemed to be amiss. But the coffee table was strewn over with painting supplies. Karim certainly was no artist, and he did not take the vampire for one either. That left Carlyle as the culprit. It seemed Lockwood did not want to have to have this conversation in the company of the very visible evidence of how at home the Carlyle felt in this house.
“Explain to me why you’re suddenly convinced I need to place Carlyle and Karim into protective custody,” he ordered once everyone was seated. Well, he and Lockwood were seated. Wade, as per her usual preference, remained standing.
Lockwood took a moment to collect his thoughts. “They’re not safe here anymore,” he breathed.
“And why not?”
Lockwood ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He cast his eyes to the side, looking into the middle distance without seeing a thing. “The oldest coven in existence may have their sights set on them. You have to move them to safety now, before anything happens to them.”
He shared a look with Wade. “How do you know this?” he asked.
“Last night I sensed someone pressing at the boundaries of my territory claim around the house,” explained Lockwood. “Normally, it’s nothing to worry about – just younger vampires trying to gain themselves more influence. They’re easy enough to scare off.” Lockwood paused there in favour of looking him in the eye as he continued. “What I found when I went to check was not an overzealous young vampire looking for a fight, but a member of the Shadows Coven.”
He frowned at the name – said in such a way as to assume he should know what that meant. He had never heard of it before. “The what?”
“That’s what the wider vampire community calls them,” murmured Lockwood, casting his eyes to the empty fireplace. “So named because there is not a single member of the Coven with the ability to walk in daylight. And there really should be, with how much older the Coven is compared to all the others.”
“I still don’t understand where your urgency is coming from,” he admitted after mulling over the information offered up. “Why does it matter that the one challenging your territory claim came from this Shadows Coven?”
Lockwood threw him a look of coiled intensity. He heard Wade shift almost imperceptibly behind him, no doubt considering if she would need to pull her weapon. He held the vampires gaze steadily.
“It matters because the Shadows Coven does not do that,” growled Lockwood. “It is a Sired Coven – all newly turned vampires are fed large amounts of the blood of the Coven’s Elders and High Sires before being turned. The Elders have complete control over the entire Coven. Rumour has it, there is only one Elder to serve as Sire for the entire coven. If a member of the Shadows Coven was here, it’s because their Elder-Sire told them to be.”
“You think they’re after Carlyle,” he surmised from that little rant.
Lockwood seemed to collect himself and take a calming breath – he assumed more from a force of habit than an actual physical need – before continuing. “If they are not already, they will be soon. The Shadows Coven has a history of collecting the most powerful magical of the age for themselves. And George is not safe either – a researcher of his calibre could threaten secrets as yet unknown to me, but well-protected by the Coven.”
He sat back as he considered the vampire. News of this coven could be a very important thing. He threw another look over his shoulder. The intensity of the frown Wade gave Lockwood told him she was deep in thought.
“Where is this coven based?”
“Somewhere nearby Ightham Court. I don’t know exactly where – no outsiders do.”
Ightham Court…now that was…concerning. Ightham Court was the Fites Estate, managed by DSRAC. For such a powerful coven to be located so close…
He nodded, accepting that answer as good enough. “I still don’t quite grasp why you are so certain you need to move Carlyle and Karim immediately,” he admitted after a moment.
Lockwood seemed to fold in on himself. “…If they come for them, I can’t protect them…” he whispered like a confession of sin.
He frowned. “Why not?”
“…I can’t answer their challenge the way I should – the way I would be expected to.”
“Why?”
“I should be out there claiming more territory; to show them I will not be coed. But I can’t,” stuttered Lockwood. He held in his distress only barely.
“Why not?” he prodded, trying for a clear answer.
“You claim territory by feeding on dozens of people, to spread your scent claim wider. I…I can’t do that. I won’t.”
Wade and him shared yet another look.
“The Shadows Coven is well known for being highly aggressive. Even if they were not already looking for Lucy or George, they will take my lack of expanded claim as an admission of weakness, and they will come in force to kill me and take my territory for themselves. I won’t be able to hold them off. I’m stronger than most any single vampire. But they won’t send just one.”
He opened his mouth to give his response, but forestalled at the sudden tension that suffused Lockwood. He sat bolt upright, coiled and ready. For a fleeting moment, he worried he had been wrong about this vampire, and he was about to be attacked. But then he heard a single word, coated in all the nameless undercurrents of worry and fear, breathed like an entreaty; “Lucy.”
From one second to the next, he blinked and Lockwood was gone from the room. He sat for a second in stupefied surprise before the sound of pounding footsteps rushing up the stairs reached him. He rushed to follow when his mind finally managed to make sense of the information.
He still had two flights to go when he heard the sound of a body slamming into a door that was locked tight.
“Lucy!” he heard Lockwood yell through the door. “Lucy! Can you hear me!?”
For the next flight, there was nothing. And then a crash sounded, and he caught sight of Carlyle’s bedroom door slamming open – the doorjamb splintered to smithereens from being forced in.
When he finally made it into the room himself, it was to find Carlyle thrashing on the bed, her eyes rolling beneath her lids. Lockwood sized her and pressed her flat against the mattress, trying to stop her from hurting herself. He strategically grabbed her in places where skin was showing – trying to break Carlyle out of whatever vision she was currently having.
Chapter 96
Notes:
Alrighty then, this one's a doozy! Get ready for the whiplash kiddies, because there's a lot of it here.
Enjoy! 😁🫣
Chapter Text
Maybe Inspector Barnes was imagining it, but the air in Carlyle’s room felt heavy with something. He watched the vampire press the still-thrashing girl down to still her movements, one hand slipping over to press against the bare skin of her collarbone.
“Lucy!” called Lockwood, “Lucy, wake up!”
There was a breath where nothing happened. He felt pinned in place, like there was something greater in the room watching them. Then Carlyle’s thrashing slowed. It seemed like Lockwood’s touch really was the thing to break her out of visions.
But then she latched onto his arm with an iron grip, her breathing still ragged. Her eyes still closed. Static seemed to suffuse the air. The hair on his arms stood on end.
Lockwood startled at the gesture, but did not let her go. “Lucy, can you hear me?” he demanded, desperate.
Carlyle wheezed, her head rolling.
“It’s not working,” fretted the vampire, “Why isn’t it working? She should be waking up…”
By now, the commotion had drawn Karim from wherever in the house he had taken to hiding. He emerged into the room, peeking around Wade’s more substantial form with a curious, unfocused look in his eye.
“Magic wants her to see,” breathed Karim in a voice rather unlike himself.
He whirled around to stare at the researcher. Something was going on here – something not even the vampire knew about.
“What!?” snapped Lockwood. The shout was thrown over his shoulder – his focus still on Carlyle. “What do you mean George?”
He saw the vampire shift, as if to pull away from Carlyle. But he did not move. A moment stretched out as Lockwood looked both stunned and alarmed all of a sudden. Lockwood’s muscles tensed and coiled, straining against something, but still, he stayed in exactly the same position.
“…I can’t move! Something’s stopping me from pulling away!” stuttered Lockwood.
He frowned at this new turn of events. Carlyle’s thrashing had stopped, but her eyes were rolling beneath her lids, her breathing erratic and laboured, he head whipping from side to side in distress or denial – he did not know which.
“Magic needs her to see,” said Karim again in that same strange echoing tone.
“No,” entreated Lockwood, “NO! She can’t use me, I am a vampire! I could hurt her! Let me GO!”
Karim seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he had momentarily fallen into. “Lockwood, magic doesn’t seem to believe it will, based on how it’s keeping you from moving away.”
“I don’t care! Let me go!” Lockwood threw his head back and yelled at the empty air.
He did have access to magic – just like Karim – and as a shifter, he would have a lot more of it. If Karim could sense the magic in the room, feel it’s intention, Lockwood definitely knew all the same things.
“Lucy, WAKE UP!”
…
“Well, if it isn’t the village whelp,” purred the smooth voice of Sir Rupert Gale.
“Oh look! It’s the Lady’s hired help!” snarked back the unnamed vampire. “It’s good you’re here, because I’ve got a question for you; don’t you call her Lady-Self-Important ‘Mistress’? Bit suggestive, that, isn’t it?”
Something was different about the tone – he did not sound quite the same. It had to be him though.
“You will hold your tongue, Skulzen!” snapped Gale at the gibe. “I would never expect a miscreant like you to understand loyalty.”
“‘Loyalty’, he says,” sang the youth apparently named Skulzen, “I hate to break it to you, Sir Knight, but it doesn’t count as loyalty when the Lady pays you for it.”
Suddenly the image of the inside of a run down, ramshackle mud brick hut in the woods came to her. A single guttering candle threw dancing shadows over the space occupied by a tall, pale-skinned man wearing a studded leather jerking and carrying a fully golden sword in an open scabbard at his side.
Hidden in the shadows was the same, wild-haired youth she caught only a glimpse of once before in a vision. Now she could see him in full. What struck her now about him was…this was not a vampire. This was the boy, before he became the monster.
“You have made a nuisance of yourself once again, Skulzen, despite My Lady’s many warnings to stop.”
Skulzen cracked a feral looking grin – notable to her because of its lacking of a vampire’s fangs – and waved off the armed knight, coiled tight in front of him.
“Pff,” blew off Skulzen, “Haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Unless you count dumping an entire gallon of pigs blood on the new bride and groom in town, in the middle of their marriage ceremony, of course,” drawled Gale a little dangerously.
Skulzen snorted in derision. “Wasn’t me!” he sing-song declared. “I applaud whoever did do though. The look on their faces; now that was comedy gold!”
“I rather hoped you’d say something like that,” offered Gale with a wicked smile. “My Lady feels as though you’ve finally overstepped your welcome in this town.”
Skulzen arched an eyebrow challengingly in Gale’s direction. “Oh yeah? And what is Lady Snooty going to do about it?” snarked the youth, “Actually, better yet, what is she going to have you do about it?”
Gale gave the youth a venomous smile. “Oh, we’re not going to do anything,” he purred.
Located squarely behind Skulzen was the single window boasted by the hut – nothing more than an empty hole in the wall a few hands wide and tall. Outside, the night was dark, whispering and dangerous. The world was pitch black, the new moon offering no light to dampen the darkness. Stars glittered like eyes in the shadows through the shifting leaves of the surrounding trees.
“…But you know what they say about the New Moon in these woods,” continued Gale with a leer, “Strange things happen.”
Skulzen snorted. “That’s all just superstition. I’ve lived here for months and nothing strange has ever happened.”
“You think so, do you?” mused Gale.
Suddenly, Skulzen went rigid, flinching as if struck with something sharp. He reached over and pulled what looked like the feathered shaft of a blow-dart from his neck. “What the –” he stuttered, even as he swayed where he was.
Gale watched dispassionately as Skulzen crashed to the floor.
“…it’s been her…” wheezed Skulzen as he began to loose consciousness, “…the disappearances have heen her…”
And then he was silent and still on the floor, breathing evenly.
Gale smirked. “I warned you weeks ago not to continue being a nuisance, whelp,” he offered to the still body on the floor. “You only have yourself to blame for this. I’m sure no one will miss you when you go missing in the woods too.”
…
“Stop this, please! Let her wake up! You can’t use me to make her see! I AM A VAMPRIE, I COULD HURT HER! PLEASE!”
By now, Barnes had realized that no one else could move either anymore.
…
Skulzen slumped unconscious at the foot of a slimy, carved stone wall, wrists shackled in heavy iron manacles with engraved runes. His face scrunched and he groaned as wakefulness came back to him. The youth rolled his head on his shoulders experimentally. When he was alert, he shot a sneering scowl around the room.
“You are certain no one saw you take him?” demanded the voice she had heard from her last vision – the noblewoman Gale tried to attack. The woman Geroge thought was Lady Marissa Fites.
“No one saw us,” reassured Gale. “It was the twilight on the new moon in the middle of the forest – no one would have dared be out at that time.”
“I don’t care how unlikely it is – Do. Not. Get. Sloppy. About. This. We cannot allow the townspeople to figure out where people have really been disappearing to,” snapped Fites.
“It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the gremlins of the woods,” called out Skulzen in a taunt.
The other two’s attention snagged onto him then. Gale looked almost excited. Fites glared at Skulzen the same as if he were something vial stuck to her shoe.
“Mr. Skulzen,” drawled Fites, “How nice of you to join us. How do you find your new accommodations? A step up from your dirt hole in the woods I hope?”
Skulzen grinned at the woman, unafraid. “I think I actually preferred to the dirt hole to this. At least it was not slimy there. Whoever your cleaner is, I think you should fire them.”
Gale rolled his eyes and Fites snorted in derision. “We’ll see how much of a mouth you have once we get started.”
“I look forward to it,” sang Skulzen.
Fites’ eyes glittered evilly as she eyed him. “I’m glad to hear it. Let’s start now.”
Hulking guards emerged from somewhere further into the dark tunnels they found themselves in and sized Skulzen. His manacles were unhooked from the wall and separated, but they remained locked onto his wrists. The guards dragged the struggling youth over to a stand-up table tilted just slightly back and locked him into its restraints.
“It’s such a pity I can’t test my theories on more upstanding citizens,” sighed Fites as she watched distastefully. “Maybe I will once they stop dying on me.”
“What are you doing? Let me go!” howled Skulzen. Everyone ignored him.
Fites approached then, her eyes glittering. She started to chant in an unknown language.
Skulzen’s scowl lifted up into an angry sneer. “WITCH!” he screamed at Fites as she came closer.
Her lips twitched into a smile as she continued to recite her enchantment. She formed a claw with her hand and jabbed Skulzen in the chest with it, right over his heart.
Skulzen screamed. Fites frowned with her eyes closed. She continued chanting, her tone fiercer, more instant. Skulzen continued screaming, louder now.
…
“…please, don’t let me hurt her, please,” sobbed Lockwood from his position slumped over Carlyle.
Barnes did not think he could – and neither, it seemed, did magic. But a vision lasting this long was not a good thing for anyone, even if they were borrowing power from an incomplete magical soul connection with the help of magic itself.
…
She watched as Gale and Skulzen fought as vampires, fangs bared and snarling.
…
She saw Skulzen bound to that stand, his chest bare, with Fites in front of him, a frown on her face. She traced over his skin with a single jabbing finger while muttering some spell. Skulzen thrashed and screamed as glittering runes were seared into his flesh. She thought part of it could have been the silver-ward rune.
…
She saw Fites pacing in her fancy estate, Gale lounging in the doorway off to the side, his gold-plated blade on full display in his half sword sheath.
“If my foolish parents believe for one second that forcing me marry this peasant is going to ‘save the family name’, then they are more idiotic than I thought,” growled Fites. She walked jerkily from one elaborate wall to the next, over and over, shoulders tense and face set.
“He’s not as bad as a peasant,” Gale tried to mollify, “He’s at least a third-generation wealthy merchant. He does have some standing.”
Fites wheeled around and sneered at Gale. “Don’t you start,” she snarled, “I have to find a way to keep the powers of my house away from that Thomas Rottwell. He’ll no doubt run the family into the ground anyway, regardless if I marry him or not.”
“You know you’re going to have to marry him though,” said Gale.
Fites grimaced. “Believe me – I know.”
…
“You fascinate me Gale,” breathed Fites in a breathy whisper, “This thing you’ve become…it’s so…powerful…”
“My Lady,” simpered the vampire version of Gale, “If you would bring yourself and your magic over to me, I can show you just how fascinating and powerful I can be.”
Gale stood inside a runic circle burned into the floor – powerful magic that uses force to keep someone contained. It was the kind of spell too powerful to fuel with only runes. It would never have worked unless a magical as powerful as Lady Marissa Fites was around to give it the necessary strength.
Fites fingered the edges of her leather-bound notebook, a longing kind of look in her eye. “…You’ve freed me of my dear husband, Gale,” she murmured. “I killed that villainous slug trying to find a way to stay young and strong forever, to escape the pitfalls of age, where I would be forced to be the good Lady and bow to my husband’s ever whim. You were the one to discover he was still around…you are the one who discovered his secret…share it with me.”
Gale paused, a curious look coming over his face as he watched her. “You have some idea of how I might do that, do you?” he asked, tilting his head as he considered her.
“…You got his blood on your face before you died,” whispered Fites, “You said you might have gotten some of it in your mouth – that you might have swallowed some.” She inched closer to the protective line all the while.
Gale’s soulless eyes show with malice and intrigue in equal measure.
…
She saw Skulzen, still strapped to that horrible standing table. He was force-fed a poisonous, acid green potion that steamed as it bubbled and frothed. He gagged as it burned his esophagus as it went down. Had he been capable of coughing up blood anymore, he would have.
…
She saw the casting that finally stopped his heart, runes burned into his chest, his insides burned with acid, his throat raw from so much screaming. She watched as Fites frowned, annoyed as her prisoner finally fell limp.
“Get me another one,” she ordered. She turned on her heel and left without a backwards glance.
…
“Lucy, please, you have to wake up…you have to let her wake up – please!”
…
She saw Gale finally kill Skulzen – ripping out his heart with his bare hand.
Blood coated Gale’s arm. She watched on with the same millisecond of shock mirrored on Skulzen’s face. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought the organ gave one last attempt at a beat. And then it exploded into dust, along with Skulzen himself.
…
She saw Gale claw his way out of a freshly dug grave, moonlight glittering down on him. It glinted a warning flash off impossible long incisors.
“…so…thirsty…must…feed…”
The words floated through the air, as flighty as a leaf blowing on the wind. The distraction so you do not notice the wolves beginning to circle in for the kill.
…
She saw a holly man – the friar who lived his whole life in service of the Fites family smuggle a copied book to a terrified pageboy. “Take this to the headsman at the village in Fairseat,” whispered the friar urgently. “Let no one else know you have it. Tell them to hide it, and keep it safe. It must never be found.”
The pageboy nodded gravely before stowing the book inside his jacket.
The sun was shining brightly out as the friar watched the pageboy ride away into the distance. “May that book one day help God’s children protect themselves from the sins of My Lady Fites,” breathed the friar.
He went into town for all the normal things – talking to the people, buying himself a hot sweet bun from the baker in town. And then he returned to the Estate that had become his living hell. Fites was waiting for him in the shadows. She watched her tare his throat out and gorge herself on his blood.
…
“I have news My Lady,” called Gale. “It seems all three of our targets live in the same house in Marylebone.”
Fites turned to give him her full attention. “That makes it almost too easy. What’s the catch?”
Gale grimaced. “They live right in the middle of the Marylebone Daywalker’s territory.”
Fites sat up suddenly, looking thunderous. “They have claimed them all!?”
“…It does not appear as though they have,” hedged Gale.
Fites frowned, tapping her fingers on the carved wood of her elaborate chair. The visage of a phoenix sat directly over her head. It would have been beautiful, if the phoenix was not depicted with a vampire’s fangs.
…
She saw the lifeless body of Skulzen dumped in the middle of the woods and buried half-heartedly under some fallen branches and leaflitter.
The moon was high in the sky when the boy woke. Disoriented, confused, and oh-so thirsty.
…
From the moment Fites did it, magic hated her. No one else had ever dared to corrupt their purpose, their balance, so thoroughly. She would never touch them again – not ever, no matter how hard she tried. They would make sure of it. But then those things began to spread – to infect others to become like them. And they hunted their children more than any others. They could not protect them. They had to find a way they could. So they made their children know of the danger, feel the presence of the threats. It was the best they could do for now. They would have to wait for the right opportunity to change anything else – to affect the course of events more directly.
…
She gasped awake like a drowning man only just managing to come up for air in time. Her head spun, and her stomach rebelled. It only took a second for it make its displeasure known, and she found herself hurling stomach bile over the edge of her bed.
Someone moved her into a recovery position when she did. She whimpered as she clutched her head. Everything sounded too loud and too quiet. She could hardly make sense of what she had seen and heard. Her head spun just trying to think about it.
“Lucy,” she heard someone call her. She could not quite place who it was at the moment. “It’s over now Lucy. You’ll be alright.”
She shivered where she lay, blackness creeping into the edges of her vision.
Chapter 97
Notes:
Hey guys, I'm supper sorry this is so late in coming! I also realized just now that I somehow posted the exact same chapter twice in a row when I last updated, and I'm not sure how that happened. I promise this IS a new chapter, I'm just fixing my boo-boo. 😕
Anyway, I hope there's not too much confusion, and you guys get notified that this has been edited and updated! 🤞🏻
Chapter Text
The second Carlyle woke, Barnes realized he could move again. It seemed the magic in the room released them all at once. Wade was already on her radio calling the clinic for transport. It was nice he did not have to give her an order for her to know what he wanted. Lockwood had Carlyle in a recovery position faster than blinking when she got sick over the edge of her bed.
“Lucy,” called the vampire, “It’s over now, Lucy. You’ll be alright.”
He could hear the concern lacing the words. Carlyle did not seem able to respond – instead, she whimpered in pain before her eyes slipped shut as she lost consciousness.
“How long until transport can get here?” he asked Wade, deciding to deal with the most important thing first.
“Less than 10,” answered Wade immediately.
He nodded. “Tell them to hurry.”
“I did.”
“Good.” And now for the other problem in the room.
Despite having been terrified he would hurt her only seconds prior, Lockwood seemed glued to Carlyle’s side. He had two fingers pressed against the pulse point on her neck – his other hand wrapped around her wrist with fingers splayed over the same there.
“That transport needs to get here fast,” fretted the vampire without taking his attention off of Carlyle. “Her blood pressure is low – I think she’s going into shock.”
He frowned. “How’d you know that?” he asked.
“I can feel it,” offered Lockwood, still without looking up. “She needs help now.”
“I’m going to get the medical kit,” piped up Karim from behind Wade. He disappeared down the stairs before anyone could give him a response.
It turned out they did not need whatever medical kit these three kept on hand, because Karim came back leading the DSRAC paramedic team. The vampire released Carlyle’s care to them without a fuss; he had been expecting him to demand to stay with her.
…
“You won’t need to force those medical checkups on Lucy or George anymore, Inspector.”
Barnes glanced over at the form of the vampire sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting room outside the clinic. Lockwood had his head in his hands, fingers threaded through his hair, poised to tear it all out in frustration. Yet he had sat in the same position, unmoving and dejected since they arrived. Karim had been unable to take the atmosphere in the room, and left for a short walk to clear his head a few minutes ago.
Carlyle’s condition was as-yet unknown – Dr. Bowman had been frowning when they brought her in. The man was unfailingly optimistic. It was never a good sign when they saw him frown.
“What makes you say that?” he asked in the silence that followed the declaration. This ought to be good.
“As soon as Lucy’s stable, I’m leaving,” declared Lockwood.
He frowned at the top of the vampire’s head. “Is that so?”
“…I let her get too close to me…I knew I shouldn’t…and yet, I still let it happen…” mumbled Lockwood to himself. “…If I had just taken her to the clinic instead of the house that first time, none of this would have ever happened…”
He studied the vampire’s slumped form for a long time. From what he was able to gather, rescuing magicals and taking them into DSRAC for help was something he did…not often, but regularly. It had not taken long to figure out that Bonnard had been one of those. “Why didn’t you?” he asked as he thought about her.
It was strange that the vampire would take the risk of Carlyle waking up in his house. She must have seen him rescue her, and would likely have realized what he is. It would have been much easier to pass unnoticed if Lockwood had surrendered Carlyle to DSRAC right away; paranoid delusions were easy enough to explain away under the stress of being kidnapped by vampire servants. Even if Carlyle had seen him, she had never needed to know the truth.
“She was terrified and in pain,” offered Lockwood. His voice was muffled; he was still burying his face in his hands. “Waking up in another medical situation would not have helped her calm down. Her magic was all over the place, and needed to be dealt with. I knew George would be able to help her.”
“So would the doctors and nurses we have on hand in the clinic,” he pointed out. “Which you already know. So again, I ask; why did you take Carlyle to your home rather than DSRAC when you rescued her?”
Lockwood did not offer any form of answer for long enough he suspected he was never going to get one. If Lockwood really did leave, he would stop the medical checkups – they were only necessary because of his presence in the same household as Karim and Carlyle. He suspected that no matter Lockwood’s conviction though, he was not actually going to go through with it. Not like that, anyway. If nothing else, Carlyle would have his head if he abandoned her.
…
George sat on the opposite side of Lucy’s bed from Lockwood, watching him. Ever since they were allowed in and Dr. Bowman explained Lucy’s condition, Lockwood took to sitting with his head in his hands again. It was the same posture he had assumed while they waited for news.
To his relative surprise, Lockwood had not touched Lucy once – not even to feel her pulse for himself. He worried that Lockwood was afraid Lucy would have another vision if he touched her. He worried Lockwood had reached all the wrong conclusions from today.
Magic released Lucy in the nick of time. Spending over 45 minutes locked in a vision had taken its toll though. If she spent any longer under, it could have caused permanent harm. Forget everything else – that alone was enough to justify Bowman putting Lucy in an induced coma while they monitored her brain activity to make sure nothing had been damaged. None of that would matter though; Lockwood was still blaming himself.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” he called over when he got tired of splitting his focus between the unconscious Lucy and Lockwood’s dejected form.
“I never should have let her get so close to me,” he heard Lockwood whisper. “I knew it wouldn’t end well…”
He scowled over at his friend. “So, this is the part where you convince yourself that she’d be better off without you and run away then, is it?” he demanded.
Lockwood had the gall to pull his head out of his hands and throw him a shattered look.
“Just look at what’s happened, George,” pleaded Lockwood, “You know I have to leave.”
He crossed his arms and harrumphed, giving Lockwood a sceptical expression. “No, actually, I don’t know,” he snapped. “She might not have woken up when you touched her, but she stopped thrashing around so much.”
“She needs her soulmate,” insisted Lockwood, “Forming the bond is the only way she’s going to be able to cope with visions like this in the future. She’s only using me because I happened to be nearby. But I can’t give her what she needs.”
His glasses flashed as he stared beadily at Lockwood. “Just how strong of a visual leaning does your magic have?” he challenged after a moment.
“It’s an exclusive leaning,” came Lockwood’s tired sounding answer.
He scowled harder. “Exclusive leanings aren’t common!” he growled, “I don’t know anyone else who has an exclusive visual leaning to their magic! Much less anyone who Lucy would have met –”
“ – I am not Lucy’s soulmate, George!” howled Lockwood with a vehemence that actually startled him a little.
“How do you know?” he shot back.
Lockwood’s gaze was hard as flint as he glared. “I am a vampire,” he rumbled. “I can’t be her soulmate – the bond would never take. I. Am. Dead. It is not me.”
This conversation was not going to get him anywhere. “So where does that leave us?” he asked rather than returning to the attack. “Magic is going to continue to send Lucy visions she can’t handle on her own, with or without you there.”
Lockwood folded in on himself. “…If I’m no longer around…magic might not force her to have such intense visions.”
“…Or, she’ll continue to have visions of exactly the same intensity, only without any access to the visuals magic thinks she needs to understand them. Then magic will try forcing visuals on her by plying her with higher levels of magic to compensate, and she’ll end up having the seizures she miraculously did not have today because you were there and could give her access to visually leaning magic,” he snarked back.
“George,” pleaded Lockwood.
“You know what? I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped before Lockwood could say any more. “There isn’t anyone who can actually stop you from leaving if you really want to.”
He fingered Lucy’s charm necklace in his pocket. Lucy kept wearing it, even when the charm stopped working to block visions. She never took it off. And yet, he found it cast away at the foot of her wardrobe in the shuffle of the medics taking her to the clinic.
He pulled it out now, and held it up for Lockwood to see. When he noticed it, his face went blank. It only angered him more. “I found this on her floor just before we left. Today was probably so hard on her because she wasn’t wearing it. Without the charm, there was nothing left to gatekeep her visions, so she had them all at once. This, is the only reason she hasn’t ended up in this situation before. You gave her this, Lockwood; you still think she’s better off if you leave?”
Lockwood looked utterly shattered. He was glassy-eyed and vibrating with contained emotion. He looked close to tears – but vampires did not have enough fluids in their body to do releasing things like cry. “I hurt her today,” he whispered, “She tried using my magic for something I couldn’t give her, and I hurt her.”
“Maybe it didn’t work right because you were resisting,” he snarked back.
Lockwood did not say anything.
“If you want to leave so bad, then go,” he snapped. Since no one else was going to do it, he took hold of Lucy’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze – just enough to let her know that someone was still there with her. He hoped her magic did not start freaking out again. They would not be able to calm her down if it did. Not without Lockwood.
For a long time, nobody moved. He refused to so much as glance over – preferring to let Lockwood stew in his thoughts. The tension in the room did not abate with time. It only grew cloying and thicker the longer it lasted. He studiously kept his focus on Lucy, not that anything much changed.
…
Lockwood stumbled vaguely down the hall. Every instinct was screaming at him to head back, to take hold of Lucy’s wrist and wrap his fingers over her throbbing pulse – to reassure himself she was still alive. It was not enough to hear her heartbeat, or listen to her breathing. The desire to touch her was almost overwhelming.
But he could not risk touching her. It had been his touch – his magic – that resulted in her lying in a hospital bed in the DSRAC clinic in an induced coma. Couldn’t George see that? If he was no longer around, maybe it would be easier for Lucy to identify her real soulmate, and then actually get a handle on her visions. His magic’s strong visual leaning was only serving to muddy the water, and distract from what she really needed.
For once, George did not understand. Lucy had become too reliant upon him. That was dangerous. He could not give her what she needed – he could not be her soulmate. He had to leave.
“Locky?” called someone’s surprised voice, startling him from his thoughts. “What you doin here instead of settin up shop by your girls’ side?”
He turned back to find Flo walking up, a concerned frown marring her face. “Flo,” he greeted softly. “I just needed to clear my head, is all. And Lucy’s…not ‘my’ girl…” The words tasted like ash on his tongue, even when he knew they were true. At least…he hoped they were true. They had to be true.
Flo only gave him a deep frown. “Isn’t she?” she asked.
“She’s not,” he sighed. “She needs her soulmate to cope with her visions. My magic just happens to have a strong leaning in a direction she needs.”
Flo did not respond – he felt her gaze pierce right through his meters thick façade to pick at the raw, bleeding skin beneath.
“Locky, you can’t keep treatin that girl like she’s just another magical you’ve helped,” she said after a long moment of silence.
He felt the need to insist that that was exactly what Lucy was, but found he could not force himself to say the words.
Flo seemed to know anyway. “I know you try helpin every magical you can to make up for the things you did you can’t remember,” she said. “Doesn’t it mean something that magic suddenly gave you a magical who immediately trusted you?”
He ran a hand tiredly through his hair. “I don’t pretend to understand what it means Flo. I let Lucy get too close to me, and now I’ve hurt her –”
“S’not the way it sounded to me,” interrupted Flo. Her eyes were still evaluating and sharp. “She needed you, and you were there for her.”
“I could have hurt her…I did hurt her…”
Flo’s hand landed on his shoulder. It had taken so long for him to earn her trust enough that she would approach him at all. It had not been like that with Lucy. She had not even realized what he was until after she saw it with her own eyes.
“You didn’t though,” insisted Flo firmly, eyes flashing. “Magic forced Lucy to have all those visons, not you. Yeah, it used you to let her see images, which she can’t do herself. Think about how much harder it would be for her if there was nobody around who could fill that hole for her, Locky. She needs you.”
“What she needs is her soulmate. I’m only getting in the way.”
“If you’re not?” prodded Flo.
He blinked tired eyes at her. “What?”
“What if you’re not getting in the way?” she elaborated. “What if magic is using you to make Lucy see because your part of the answer?”
“Flo,”
“Locky,” interrupted Flo, eyes sharp once again. “You’re always so worried about staying too long, or hurtin somebody. And you never do either of those things. It took me months before I could even think about getting out on my own. Even when I didn’t trust you at all, you still made sure I had everything I needed to be alright. You knew exactly when I needed help, and you knew exactly when I didn’t need it anymore at all. Why is it so much harder for you to see those same things with Lucy?”
“She’s too reliant on me…I can’t –”
“I was reliant on you, in the beginning,” she insisted.
“It’s just…different…with Lucy…” he mumbled.
“You like her,” stated Flo. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide and startled.
“I don’t –” Don’t what? He did not know.
“And you’re afraid she might like you back.”
If he still needed to breathe, he would be hyperventilating right now. “I don’t…I’m not…She isn’t…”
Flo gazed at him sadly. “Lockwood, it’s not a crime if you like her.”
“…I’m a vampire…” he breathed, like an admittance of sin.
“So what? You’ve got your soul – you’ve even got magic. And Lucy always trusted you. That came from magic too, you know. Magic always knows. It’s decided Lucy needs you to be safe – needs you to fill the gaps in her visions. For all we know, Lucy’s soulmate was someone from her hometown, who’s gone now. Maybe magic allowed her to trust you because you’re the only one who can help her now.”
He did not respond.
“She needs you Lockwood,” insisted Flo, “And I think you might need her just as much. Maybe that’s what magic is trying to say here. You can’t leave her – you know you can’t. Just stop fighting it, and I think it’ll get better.”
He realized that George had said basically the same thing. It scared him how much Lucy seemed to need him for her magic. No other magical he’d ever helped had been like that – and he’d helped a lot of magicals over the years. He was terrified of letting Lucy in too close, terrified of coming face-to-face with the ugly reality that Lucy would age and grow in a way he never could.
But both Flo and George were right about one thing – Lucy still needed him. She was not ready to go out on her own. He’d known exactly when to pull back from Flo, from all the others. Lucy was not there yet. Maybe once the message in these visions was dealt with, she could be…but in the meantime, he could not push her away as he kept trying. That was what was hurting her.
He needed to stop resisting, to let her take what she needed, and trust that magic knew what it was doing. If magic did not turn out to know, there was little chance he would know better.
Chapter 98
Notes:
Alright guys, we've got the housekeeping before things start to get interesting again!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
George both was, and was not surprised when Lockwood came back after having left. He scowled at his friend and clenched the hand not holding Lucy’s into a white knuckled fist. His voice came out waspish when he asked, “What are you doing back here?”
Lockwood paused half-way into the room and ran a tired hand through his hair as he sighed. “You’re still angry then?”
“That depends entirely on if you’re still being an overdramatic dick,” he snarked back.
Lockwood sighed again as he curled inwards. “…I’m not going to leave,” he whispered, “You were right about what you said before. If nothing else…Lucy needs me to better cope with her visions.”
The frostiness he felt started to thaw. Lockwood was often stubborn and cock-sure; a byproduct of having lived as long as he had with super-human abilities, he assumed. It was not easy to change his mind once he made a decision. That he had now…well, it went a long way to making him less angry.
“You’re not getting out of explaining why you think both Lucy and I need to move out and into protective custody at DSRAC all of a sudden,” he warned when Lockwood ventured to cover the rest of the distance.
Lockwood inclined his head as he retook his place from before. He hesitated for a single heartbeat, and then carefully wrapped his long fingers around Lucy’s exposed wrist, covering her pulse point. A tense silence bloomed – Lockwood appearing to sit poised for some new calamity to endanger Lucy. But the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Lockwood let out a long exhale, the tension leaving his form as he did.
“Start talking,” he ordered once Lockwood stopped looking like he would bolt right out of the room.
“You already know someone was pressing at my territory claim,” began Lockwood quietly, “And that they were from the Shadows Coven.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “But you never explained what that actually meant.”
“The Shadows Coven is dangerous. Even other vampires avoid them as best they can – and not in the usual way of sidestepping turf wars or Coven rivalries,” explained Lockwood, “And it’s a Sired Coven. Something bigger is going on, and I don’t want the two of you getting caught up or hurt in whatever it is.”
He mulled that over in silence. Thanks to Lockwood, he had a much better understanding of vampire social behaviour than anyone else. Knowing how vampires interacted with one-another was useful information to have. It meant you understood how they would react in different situations. A sired coven meant sire bonds; depending on the strength, coven members would be completely unable to do anything unless ordered to by their sire.
“Were you able to find out what they wanted?” he asked.
Lockwood ran a tired hand through his hair. The strands stood on end in an almost artfully tousled way. There had to be some explanation for how some people always seemed well-put together. Something he might look into someday, if he ever found the time. Or was really, really bored.
“They didn’t stick around long enough to talk once I showed up,” admitted Lockwood. “As soon as they realized I was there, they left.”
He folded his arms and raised an expectant eyebrow to Lockwood, motioning for him to explain further. “What does that tell you then?”
“That they were there looking for information. If the Shadows Coven was actually interested in challenging me for my territory, they would have sent a lot more than just one younger vampire. They’re known for going after particularly strong magicals, and for trying to control the flow of information about vampires. They could be interested in both you and Lucy. If they come in force, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“The house is secure,” he pointed out after a moment. “They wouldn’t be able to get in, even if they came.”
“That’s not much use if you have no means of escape. You’ll have to leave the house at some point – all they have to do is wait,” pointed out Lockwood.
That was true enough. “If they try to lay siege to the house, we can call DSRAC.”
Lockwood seemed to shake his head. “Normally, that might be enough to run off vampires, or even scare off an entire Coven – but not this one. The Shadows Coven has a bad reputation. They’re rumoured to have only a single Elder-High-Sire who does not care about their Coven members. There’s usually at least some level of loyalty in Covens, but the Shadows Coven doesn’t seem to have any at all. And it’s the oldest and largest in existence. DSRAC would not be able to handle them, even if they threw everything they had at them.”
“Why is it so important for us to move out immediately?” he asked.
“After what happened, they’ll expect me to start expanding my territory claim,” explained Lockwood. “You know I can’t do that. They’ll take it as an admission of weakness. Even if they weren’t looking for information on you or Lucy, they’ll come to kill me and take my territory for themselves. I can’t stay in Portland Row any more than I want either of you to.”
He was quiet for a while after that admission. “Maybe next time, lead with that when you try telling Lucy she needs to go into DSRAC protective custody, mate.”
Lockwood grimaced, his gaze falling to her unconscious form.
“…Yes,” he breathed, “That’s probably a good idea.”
…
Barnes sat in his office working through his mountains of paperwork. Or, he was trying to, at least. He had read over the first line of the page in front of him five times by now – still none of it was penetrating.
He could not stop thinking about Carlyle, Karim, and Lockwood. From the sound of it, the two humans really could not continue to stay in that house. According to Lockwood, his territory claim was about to become ground zero for a vampire turf war that would get messy.
That he wanted to ensure Carlyle’s and Karim’s safety was a given. Surprising to admit, even to himself, but he did not want to see that vampire killed and turned to dust. None of them would be able to remain where they were. Lockwood would likely have to disappear entirely to avoid the ire of such a powerful and aggressive coven.
The questions he really needed to ask himself was this – could he really trust a vampire? Could he trust Lockwood? Did he really need to insist on checking up on them all the time?
Every checkup had said the same thing – there was nothing wrong. No bite marks. No needle marks. No catheters, or injuries, or anything else. He had really expected there to be something by now.
Lockwood was not guilt-tripping the two humans into letting him feed on them. It had been his primary worry when he found out they were all living together. He questioned Karim about it early on. Lockwood apparently went too long without feeding quite often, but had never once attacked. Karim had said he literally needed to force-feed Lockwood on more than one occasion. Even the scent of recently spilled blood on a cut of meat did not send the vampire into a feeding frenzy. It should have. It did not.
Kipps was not chaperoning Lockwood around the facility this time. He had no doubt the vampire would spend his time here with Carlyle. Sending Wade out for a little recon had told him nothing but the vampire seemed to be struggling with an internal crisis over leaving Carlyle when she woke. He had gone back to her room after speaking with Bonnard in the hall outside, so perhaps he had made his decision.
On top of all his worries about those three, there was the other problem he had; the only thing he had thought he would need to deal with today. A rural agent, one who used to be a vampire hunter no less, was being brought in today for a disciplinary hearing for dereliction of duty.
He intended to watch them like a hawk.
…
“You should ask the Inspector about staying in the DSRAC dorms for tonight,” insisted Lockwood, “I have to move my sister once it’s dark, and I don’t want to risk you being there when I do.”
George shot a look at Lockwood. It was clear how very serious he was about getting out before the threat of this “Shadows Coven” became a reality “Fine,” he grouched, “But how exactly do you expect to be able to stay with Lucy and clear out of Portland Row? It’s not like you can move into the DSRAC dorms the same as us – all the handles are silver plated. You won’t be able to move around inside the building on your own. Not without wearing gloves all the time, and people will get suspicious of that eventually.”
He watched Lockwood run a hand tiredly through his hair while he heaved a deep sigh. “I’ll worry about that once I know the both of you and my sister are safe. I have no idea how fast the Shadows Coven will move, so I’d rather things be done as quickly as possible.”
He pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt as he thought about it. “I’ll take Flo home with me and grab the essentials,” he said after a moment of thought, once he put his glasses back on. “She can pack an overnight bag for Lucy, for when she gets out of the clinic. Is it going to be a problem if we go back to get things we left latter?”
Lockwood shook his head. “It shouldn’t be. Once I take away my sister and clear out myself, the scent claim on the house will start to get old and sour. The two of you can go back and get things all you want – it won’t affect anything. But I can’t go back at all if I want the scent claim to show the Shadows Coven I’m not still around.”
A little less than a half-hour latter saw him in the back seat of a cab on his way to Portland Row. Flo agreed to meet him at the house – no cab driver would let her in, what with the smell of the Thames she brought with her everywhere. He did not think it was all that noticeable. But then again, he had a bad sense of smell. Probably ruined by all the dust from books he’d inhaled over the years. That was his theory, anyway.
When he got to the house, it was to find Flo already waiting outside for him. They went in together; she going up to Lucy’s room while he split off to gather his own stuff. “Make sure to pack her sketchbook and drawing supplies, yeah?” he called as Flo continued on up the stairs past his room.
Flo’s head poked over the banister. She gave him a quick nod. “Will do, Georgie. Try not to pack the whole library while I’m gone.”
He snorted a little at the thought. Their library had more than a few rare old books – curtesy of Lockwood’s long history. He did not read them himself, but he knew his parents had been scholars back in the day. Lockwood grew up surrounded by old tomes, and it was a habitual thing he’d retained even now, having spent so long alone as a vampire.
“Not the whole library,” he mussed, “I’d leave the old detective novels. Not much substance to research there.”
This time Flo gave an amused snort before disappearing up the stairs. He set about packing the essentials. After giving it some thought, he collected together all his notes about Lucy and her powers, and shoved them into the bottom of his bag. Vampires outside of Lockwood may not be able to get into the house, but it was possible vampire servants could. The protection runes he put in place guarded against negative intention towards the dwellers. They would not work properly to keep out human servants of vampires if there was nobody living in the house anymore. Better to be safe than sorry.
He'd have to make sure to get Lucy to come back and get her copy of her mapping record once she was released from the clinic too.
Notes:
Can anyone see where we're heading? 😁👀
Chapter 99
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What are you doing out here?” asked George when he went down to visit Lucy the next morning only to find Lockwood sitting out in the hall rather than with her.
“Waiting for Lucy to be brought back. She’s still showing heightened levels of neural activity, and Dr. Bowman wanted an fMRI for a clearer picture of what’s happening and where,” answered Lockwood.
He sat gingerly on the plastic chair next to him. “Should we be worried?” he breathed after a moment.
Lockwood turned and gave him a reassuring sort of close-lipped smile. “No,” he rumbled. “I’ve been watching her EEG since I got back last night. Her brain activity is not worryingly high. I think the Doctor is just being cautious.”
“Bowman usually is,” he murmured. Lockwood was probably right, and there was nothing to worry about. He had a lot more frame of reference to know about these things. “Did anything happen last night when you went to move your sister?” he asked softly.
Lockwood shrugged unconcernedly. “No. I expected there to be something. I have not sensed anyone else pressing at my territory, and there were no lingering scents when I passed around to check. I did have to destroy the runes over the front door though – I couldn’t get my sister through them.”
He eyed Lockwood for a long time. “Do you think you overreacted about this now?”
“No.”
“What if they never bother you again?”
“That worries me more, not less, George. The Shadows Coven cannot be trusted.”
Orderlies appeared with Lucy in tow, preventing him from interrogating Lockwood any further. They wheeled her bed back into the room and reattached all the sensors in the right places. A few minutes latter, Dr. Bowman bustled in to deliver his assessment of her condition.
“Her scans show unusual levels of activity here and here,” explained Bowman as he pointed out the relevant parts of the image he showed them. “It looks as if she’s having trouble processing all the information she received through her inundation of visions yesterday. We need to keep her in the induced coma until these levels drop to something more normal.”
“How likely is it she won’t be able to recall everything she saw in those visions like she normally can?” asked Lockwood after a thoughtful silence.
“Hard to say,” mused Bowman. He gazed again at the MRI image he’d been showing them. “There’s a lot of activity in the memory centres of her brain. It’s hard to tell if that means she’ll remember everything, or if it’s because those centres are overloaded and struggling to keep up.”
They thanked Bowman as he left, and then set to sitting with Lucy. It was worrying that she might not remember everything she had seen. Magic had gone through quite a lot of trouble to show her all those things. It would not have done that if they were unimportant. He did not know what it would mean if all that was simply…lost.
…
Hours latter found George sitting in a secluded corner of the DSRAC archives engaged in his research. He normally preferred sitting at the desk under the skylight in the middle of the main level. This spot was his latest attempt to avoid unsavoury conversation when he was trying to focus.
“Hi George, what are you working on now?” asked a voice from the other side of his screening mountain of books.
He grit his teeth and did not bother to hide the growl of frustration he let out. “What do you want this time, Bobby?”
“Nothing!” rushed the other researcher. If he could even be called that.
He still had not forgiven Bobby for his shoddy research job that resulted in Lucy getting attacked by black magic. It only added insult to injury that the whole episode had happened while he was…still not himself.
“What are you looking into now? Can I help?” barrelled on Bobby, clearly ignoring his less-than inviting tone.
“I don’t need any help,” he growled. “Especially not from someone who can’t tell the difference between duress and revenge magic.” Had he not already made this point abundantly clear? He always had trouble with social cues. Maybe he was not being obvious enough.
He saw Bobby stiffen slightly over the rim of his book. “You’ve got all kinds of books on the history of vampire theory,” he said instead through gritted teeth. “What are you working on? I could help.”
He slammed the book he’d been trying very hard to read closed and shot Bobby a withering look. “In case I haven’t made it clear enough before now,” he ground out, “I am not interested in working with you. I am not interested in sharing my theories. And I most definitely do not need nor want your help to research. Now please, stop wasting my time with whatever this is, and go away.”
Bobby stood there looking like he’d been clubbed over the head for a quivering moment before a scowl settled over his face. “Fine then,” he grouched before marching away.
He watched his back disappear around the stacks and wondered if he shouldn’t let Barnes know that Bobby Vernon had been trying to poach his research for the past couple weeks.
…
“Wait!” called the frantic voice of someone who sounded younger than they were, “Come back!”
“Why should I?” threw a sinisterly smooth voice over their shoulder. “You’ve nothing I’m interested in.”
“I know a way of getting you what you want without letting DSRAC know about it!”
The tall figure standing hidden in the shadows as if they were part and parcel of them paused. “Is that so?” they simpered.
“The copy at DSRAC isn’t the only one; they would have given her one to keep for herself. It’ll be at the house, and there’s no one there right now. I heard she’s in the clinic, and everyone else who lives there is staying in the DSRAC dorms in protective custody. The house will be empty.”
Glinting eyes shone out of the darkness as the figure turned slowly. “Protective custody?”
…
The second night of Carlyle being in hospital found Barnes and Wade making their way to the house on Portland Row. Lockwood had already been by and taken away his things. He knew George had come by with Bonnard to pack the essentials for both himself and Carlyle. The house should have been empty.
Once he knew the vampire had cleared his things out, he set Kipps to watch – carefully, and without being seen. If there was to be a vampire turf war, there would be an unusual number of people taking interest in the supposedly empty house.
Kipps had seen something.
They rendezvoused with him at the end of the street, ironically the exact place that could be seen from Carlyle’s bedroom window in the attic of the house.
“Kipps,” he acknowledged when they spotted him, “What’s your report?”
“There’s been an unusual number of people around tonight,” said Kipps with a frown, “You told me to stay unnoticed, so I’ve had to hang a lot farther back than I normally would. I’m not 100% sure, but I think I managed to spot a couple dark figures dashing for the house earlier. Couldn’t make out anything more than one was a lot shorter than the other. I know the front door is locked, and I’ve seen the runes that George’s carved all over the place; they shouldn’t have been able to get in, but I think they might have anyway.”
Well, this was not good. “You think it’s possible there are vampires in the area now?” he asked, a frown marring his face.
Kipps grimaced. “There…might be,” he hedged, “But it could just as easily be their servants.”
Seems like it was time to call in the cavalry.
…
“Your information was worthless,” growled a sinister voice, “Our servants could only reach a single room in that whole house, and nothing.”
“I’m sorry!” squeaked a terrified voice, “I didn’t know! They’ve basically moved out at this point, the runes shouldn’t have been working, I swear!”
“I grow tired of your whining,” hissed a man, dark as midnight and smooth as silk.
“No, wait, please! I’ll get it from headquarters for you, I swear!” shrieked the other voice.
There was a single beat of silence. “Will you now?” simpered the deeper voice.
“I…I will!” quavered the second. “I’ll get it for you, I will!”
A frantic heartbeat filled the silence between them.
“Very well,” agreed the voice. “You have three days. If you fail again, not only will you not get your prize, but you won’t like the consequences you face from me.”
“I –”
“And don’t even think about crawling to your pathetic DSRAC. They won’t be able to protect you,” growled the deeper voice, menacing and cruel.
Someone let out an audible gulping sound.
Notes:
Lockwood, you dumb shit, why'd you leave the door unlocked? .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.
Chapter 100
Notes:
Hey guys, here's the next instalment of our journey! I think from now on, I'll promise at least one chapter each week.
I am teetering on the edge of pushing that last domino...
😁 Enjoy!
P.S. 100 CHAPTERS! OH MY GOD щ(ʘ╻ʘ)щ
Chapter Text
Barnes slumped at his desk, a steaming mug of black coffee in his hand. Last night had been a long night.
Worry was his constant companion now – even more so than it had been in years past. He knew Carlyle would have a copy of her mapping report somewhere in the house. That was a lot of private information that could do very bad things in the hands of untrustworthy vampires. Asking Karim about it had not gotten him anything – he did not have it, and he did not know where exactly she’d stashed it.
“I took all my notes about her powers and the things we’ve tried together when I left,” offered Karim at his worried scowl. “And Lucy hasn’t actually made the decision to start moving out of the house. The protection runes over her bedroom door will probably still work, even if none of the others do.”
“I had to destroy the protection runes over the front door when I moved my sister,” admitted Lockwood then. “I was worried they wouldn’t work properly if I put them back, so I left it.”
The conversation had not been altogether reassuring. But a search of the house revealed nothing out of place – at least, nothing that Lockwood could not account for, anyway. The runes over the front door were put back. Hopefully nobody would be able to get in now.
He had patrols out all night long, canvasing the neighbourhood. None of them had found anything. If there had been vampire servants or vampires around that night, they managed to make themselves scarce before being spotted. He still had three patrols out, each with a trained vampire hunter included in the team.
…
“What’s got you in such a huff this morning?” asked Lockwood when George appeared for his morning visit to Lucy before starting work.
He plopped himself into his customary seat in something of a huff. “I just found out that the washed-out agent from Lucy’s hometown is here for his disciplinary hearing this week.”
Lockwood gave him a pondering look. “…And this a problem?”
“Barnes should have fore-warned Lucy about it,” he grumbled under his breath. “They’ve never actually met face-to-face, but Lucy’s the reason he’s going to end up sacked if not thrown into a DSRAC high security prison. I don’t imagine he’s happy about that.”
“You think he’s going to be a problem?” pressed Lockwood.
He huffed as he scrunched his face unhappily. “I doubt he’s stupid enough to try anything directly…”
“…But you’re worried he might try something anyway,” finished Lockwood when he trailed off.
The dark look he sent his friend was answer enough.
Lockwood nodded his understanding. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
…
Barnes hated headaches. Especially stress-related ones that squeezed his brain from both sides. He had twin heartbeats on his head, and he still had 17 and a half minutes to go before the ibuprofen he’d taken was supposed to kick in. It was his own fault for waiting so long to take the pills. In his defence, he had a lot on his plate.
He always had a lot on his plate…
This…agent…was trying all his patience.
“How often did you complete sweeps of your sector to look for new magicals?”
“As often as I believed necessary.”
“How often, exactly?” he gripped, unimpressed with that vague answer. “DSRAC regulations require one sweep be completed every month at a minimum. Did you meet this requirement?”
“I completed sweeps as much as was necessary.”
Maybe the top half of his brain had decided to try and find a new plane of existence to escape from this fool. It did not feel like it was still attached anymore.
He really should have taken those two measly ibuprofens before they started this. Too late now.
“And how often was as ‘much as necessary’?”
“I completed a sweep whenever it was needed.”
God have mercy on him…the headache gremlins with their spikes and metal baseball bats certainly would not be showing him any.
…
“Have you heard anything more about this agent here for the disciplinary hearing?” asked Lockwood when he visited Lucy during his lunch break.
“Yeah. There’s lots of people talking about it now. They called the full review board in when they guy managed to give Barnes a headache,” answered George.
Lockwood cocked a head as he regarded him. “I take it giving the Inspector a headache was not the actual reasoning for calling in the full review board.”
“No,” he sighed, “It wasn’t. He wouldn’t give Barnes any straight answers. They were called in to pick through the last 20 years of his life and make sure he’s not actively working for vampires.”
Lockwood was silent for a long time. “…I don’t think he’s actively working for any…”
He shot his friend a sharp look. “…But?”
“…But,” continued Lockwood slowly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow ran afoul of a powerful coven that blackmailed, threatened, or otherwise coerced him into line somehow.”
He pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them nervously on the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, that seems about right.”
Bowman bustling into the room distracted them from the topic of the agents dwindling chances of getting off with a warning. George mumbled a greeting to the doctor, and then waved at Holly as she slipped in behind him.
Lockwood sent both doctor and nurse a curt nod. “Nurse Holly, I believe it is?” he called. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet.”
For the love of all that is holly, Lockwood, why?
Holly regarded him silently for a long moment, and then she smiled in that pleasant way of hers. “Actually, we have met. You were just hiding as a bird the first time.” The smile she gave him then promised a conversation for the future.
Lockwood inclined his head. “Yes, I suppose I was.”
“What’s going on?” he asked to break the tension. One of the other nurses was just leaving from checking Lucy when he got there. That had only been 15 minutes ago; surely it was not already that time again. “Dr. Bowman? Is something wrong?”
“Relax George,” soothed Lockwood, “I’ve been watching her. Nothing’s wrong.”
Bowman gave him a reassuring smile. “No, nothing like that, Mr. Karim. It’s quite the opposite in fact, as your friend here says. Given Lucy’s EEG readings from today, I’m comfortable with beginning the process of taking her out of the induced coma now.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was one thing he did not need to be so worried about.
…
“It seems the Marylebone Daywalker has decided to skip town rather than risk a confrontation with us,” simpered a smooth voice.
A snort of derision sounded out. “I’d imagine they would – a measly pair is no match for even one of these pitiful modern covens, much less ours. That certainly makes things easier for us. It would have been called poor form if we killed a Daywalker for such a tiny claim,” snipped a sharp-voiced woman. Disdain and contempt coated her tone as she spat the word “Daywalker”.
“Yes,” drawled the man’s voice. “But I have even more news than that.”
The woman motioned for him to continue.
“All of our targets appear to have been moved into DSRAC protective custody.”
An amused huff sounded. “Perhaps our dear friends at DSRAC finally realized their precious curse-breaker was living right next to a Daywalker. Maybe they cleared out as much because of DSRAC as because of us. We’ll need to be careful. We can’t have them learning about us.”
“Indeed.”
“What of your pet weak link?” continued the woman, “They’re proving more willing to help than you initially thought?”
“Hardly,” chuckled the man darkly, “But they’re more desperate for their ‘prize’ than I expected, which seems to be enough motivation to make them willing to get their hands dirty.”
Sinister laughter filled the air. “Is that right?”
“I propose we employ both our pawns in the game,” suggested the man after it subsided. “I doubt our agent will actually be able to pull it off – DSRAC is looking too closely at him. They’re very suspicious they missed such a powerful magical.”
“Make whatever plans you want – just as long as I get that mapping report.”
“Of course, My Lady,” simpered the man as he bowed and left.
Chapter 101
Notes:
alright guys, we're leaving it until the last minute to get this out 😅, but now you've got it!
I have knocked the domino over, and things are going to start crashing down soon! 🫣🤭
Chapter Text
“I thought Bowman was going to wake Lucy up. Why’s it taking so long?” asked George latter that day.
“It’ll still be another day before she’s properly awake,” offered Lockwood. “She was put in an induced coma – she has to be weened off the medications slowly. Waking her up all at once wouldn’t be very good for her.”
He pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt as he thought it over. “…I guess that makes sense.”
Lockwood inclined his head. “It’s important to go slow,” he continued, “She wasn’t under for that long; she shouldn’t have to deal with withdrawal symptoms, but it’s still important she regain consciousness slowly.”
He replaced his glasses and shot a calculating look at Lockwood. “Withdrawal?”
“Induced comas are achieved through the continuous administration of sedatives,” explained Lockwood. “When patients are kept in the state for long enough, their bodies become reliant on the medications. It’s more of a problem for patients who have been under for longer than Lucy was, but we still need to be careful.”
He accepted Lockwood’s explanation, but knew he’d be looking into medical comas himself latter. He trusted Bowman – and Lockwood certainly would not let them do anything to Lucy he knew was not safe – but he wanted to understand what was going on under his own power.
…
Barnes sighed as he read through the notes of the agent’s hearing thus far once again. The review board had gone digging in the man’s history, and things were not looking good.
His first few years at that rural post actually showed he’d taken the initiative. He’d uncovered a burgeoning coven responsible for a number of suspicious deaths that had been plaguing the town. People had been shocked and scared by it, and the agent had managed to put a complete stop to it all. It was a messy affair that included two dead vampires and an incarcerated vampire servant ostensibly blamed for everything since no one else was left.
It seemed things started to go downhill from the moment the agent earned the townspeople’s goodwill. The agent’s reports became increasingly patchy as the months rolled by after that incident.
There was actually a report of a sweep done in the town and surrounding countryside for magicals the exact month Carlyle’s file showed she would have been born. The report was from only a few days after. It was possible that an infant’s magic would not be developed enough to have come up in the sweep…but that did not explain why she had not been revealed in any of the subsequent ones.
It called into question the authenticity of every report the man had ever written. Faked reports were not good. But altered reports were even worse, because of the things that implied.
The board was now digging back further to see what exactly had prompted the agents transfer to that rural outpost. Trained vampire hunters were not usually permanently stationed in such sparsely populated sectors, after all.
…
Jacobs did not know how exactly he was supposed to do what he needed to do. Not with how closely the Inspector in charge was having him watched. His Sergeant chaperone constantly looked like she had something foul-smelling under her nose. He was not sure if that was because of his company, or if that was just how the woman always looked.
He doubted this Sergeant Wade would look the other way if he wanted to take a walk around the facility to clear his head. If she let him go at all, he had no doubt the excursion would instantly get back to the Inspector.
This hearing was a fiasco. He had said all the right things – never more than necessary. Never anything that could incriminate him. But the one glaring problem with his story versus theirs was that damn girl and her magic.
At best, her existence meant he had never actually done the things he said he did in the reports. At worst, it meant he deliberately hid her existence. Either he was a slouch, or he was in league with vampires.
The reality was a kind of middle ground. He was no servant to vampires.
At least, that’s not how he thought of himself.
He had done the sweeps. He never wrote a report without at least doing something, as much for his conscience as for the safety of his hide. Oh, and for the safety of the people in that backwater town.
He’d even found the girl. But he could not let anyone know about that. He wasn’t supposed to. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity.
That was why he stopped doing sweeps in the past few years. He had to gloss over the girl each time he did. So he didn’t do them. He couldn’t be accused of lying if he simply did nothing.
There were…people…who had things he needed. People who did not want anyone to know about a single magical in some shitty town. He’d found others – they hadn’t cared about him letting DSRAC know about those few. Just the girl. So the girl didn’t exist.
Except she did. And she was here now, in the main London headquarters for DSRAC. Their new star magical curse-breaker, capable of destroying black magic relics. This was all her fault. It was little consolation she was in the clinic in a coma last he heard. She’d ruined his life. More-so than it already had been, being sent to that crap-shoot of a town.
He’d nearly lost it before he managed to find the people who could give him want he needed.
…
“So, Flo, what have you heard about this agent here for the hearing?” asked Lockwood from his place at Lucy’s side.
Flo shot him an arched look. He was fishing for details, and she knew it. It was not like he was being subtle about it. How could he be? The man who should have been the first to find and protect Lucy was here – in this building. What else did she expect him to do?
“What’s Georgie told you ‘bout it?” countered Flo.
He rolled his eyes. “You know how he is,” he sighed, “He only hears what everyone knows, because it’s the only stuff he hasn’t successfully blocked out.”
Flo snorted. “Aye,” she agreed, “He does that, for sure.”
“So what do you know about it?” he pressed.
“That agent’s definitely going to jail,” said Flo, something between mirth and a grimace appearing on her face. “He’s either been sittin on his ass doing bugger-all for years, or he’s in league with the wrong kind of vamapires.”
He cocked his head at her. “But why?” he asked softly.
Flo shot him an arched look. “Why what?”
“Why would a trained vampire hunter fall so far that he either wasn’t doing his job at all, or started working with vampires?”
“Does it matter? He’s landed himself in the slammer either way.”
“It matters,” he insisted, “Because he wouldn’t have ended up there over nothing.”
“I don’t know what to tell you then, Locky. Seems to mee he lost his nerve and decided he didn’t want to do it anymore.”
He was distracted from his questions by the arrival of another DSRAC nurse come to check Lucy’s progress. Lucidity was starting to come back to her, but she was not yet past the stage of delirium where it was patchy and unpredictable. Mostly, she was still confused and a little agitated, though thankfully not enough to warrant restraining her, as was sometimes necessary when patients came out of induced comas. At least by now she was sleeping more than she was put to sleep.
She was able to respond to the nurse’s ministrations, but it was clear she still had a way to go yet. He left the nurse to their job, and only intervened when Lucy started getting agitated again.
“Lucy,” he called softly, so as not to startle her frayed consciousness. “Luce, it’s alright.”
“…What…whe-…I…” she stuttered brokenly.
The nurse holding her steady now that she was restless did not soothe her. He drew her attention onto himself as he moved to help.
“You’re alright Lucy. Don’t be frightened.”
He heard her breathing stutter with her nervousness as she tried to focus on him, “Whe…re…?”
“You’re in the DSRAC clinic. You’ve been asleep for some time,” offered the nurse.
That did not seem to help any.
“You’re alright Lucy,” he soothed, threading his fingers through hers as he grasped her hand. “There’s nothing to be scared of. Just relax – let the nurse look at you.”
She calmed down a little, and suffered through the rest of the nurse’s checks. Once satisfied nothing undue was wrong, the nurse left. He could tell Lucy’s agitation lingered though – her breathing still was not as steady as he would like.
“Lucy,” he called softly as he turned her to face him, “You’re safe here. It’s alright.”
She steadied somewhat after that, but did not fully settle until after she fell asleep again.
He studiously ignored the knowing looks Flo kept sending him through the whole affair.
…
The hearing of that agent from Lucy’s hometown was going badly.
That was what everyone kept saying.
“It looks like he might be in league with vampires – hiding the existence of a powerful magical like that for so long. They just need to prove it now.”
The common explanation was only partially right, he knew. The agent wasn’t working for vampires – not exactly. He was reliant on them though. But that was more their fault than his.
If he wanted his plan to work, he couldn’t tell anyone that though. They’d get suspicious, and he couldn’t have that. He needed nobody to be looking his way if this was to work.
…
Lockwood found himself restless as he sat with Lucy. His magic was itching at him in a way reminiscent of the vague shapes of memories from a childhood far too long ago.
Lucy was safe; she was progressing well in her recovery from the induced coma. She was not the problem he needed to deal with.
He did not know why magic was causing his uneasiness, but he needed to find out.
The sky outside was painted a crimson orange. Night would be coming in soon. But both George and Lucy were safely tucked away in the bowels of DSRAC. Other vampires surely could not be the problem here.
After tapping his foot through a troubled half hour, he finally caved and decided to take a walk around the halls of the clinic to check things out. He would have to open the doors while keeping his hand inside his pocket, but that should not be too much of a problem. At this time, everyone would either already be home, or heading out into the field to keep watch for the night’s events, come what may.
The clinic was laid out in a sequence of two donuts of hall, each complete with an enclosed courtyard in the middle. If was useful to have those spaces for any patients with longer stays. It meant they could get exercise outside without leaving the safety of the compound.
The corridors were quiet. He heard the soft breathing and steady heartbeats of a couple sleeping patients as he passed by their rooms. The squeaking footsteps of a doctor or nurse’s anti-slip shoes echoed from down the hall around the corner. Probably someone doing the rounds to check that no one needed anything.
It wasn’t until the second circuit that he noticed anything out of the ordinary.
“Excuse me sir, but is there something you’re looking for?” he called out when he noticed a stoop-shouldered greying man near the entry from the rest of the DSRAC compound. Nothing seemed outwardly amiss at first, but the man’s heart rate was elevated – like he was nervous. And then he registered how they smelled.
“Oh, nothing,” stuttered the man, waving him off. “I just thought I’d pay someone a visit who’s here as a patient.”
He glowered at this man – if he was who he thought he was… “Really?” he drawled, “Who might that be?”
The man floundered for a moment, looking uncertain. But that was not unusual for someone addicted to Daydream, as this man. And he must be, with how he smelled like it. Overpoweringly so.
“Well, I –”
“– You’re that agent who’s supposed to be here for a disciplinary hearing,” he said, cutting off whatever the man might have been saying.
Now things made a little more sense. Anyone addicted to Daydream was suggestible. The questions he had now were how he got there, and what he’s doing here.
He eyed the man with a burning intensity.
“I’m…not sure I...”
“In a Daydream, perhaps?” he asked, rather pointedly.
He heard the answering spike in the man’s heartrate, smelt the sour tinge start to fill the air as he began to sweat.
Suddenly, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sergeant Wade and Inspector Barnes. The latter of which glared suspiciously. The Sergeant continued to survey the scene with the same scowl he always saw her sporting.
“What’s going on? Why are you here?” demanded the Inspector. The questions seemed to be directed more towards the sweating agent than him.
“I…came to see the –”
“No,” growled the Inspector before the man could fully get his sentence out. He was rather glad he did. There was no way he was going to let a Daydream addict anywhere near Lucy. “Sergeant, get him out of here, if you would?”
The Sergeant complied without any comment or change of expression, and ushered the former agent away. The Inspector lingered a moment longer, surveying him.
“Why are you out here and not with Carlyle?” he asked.
He shrugged. “My magic was making me feel restless. I needed a walk.”
“How did you get out of the room by yourself when the handle is coated in silver?”
Rather than dignify that with a direct answer, he stuck his hands in his coat pockets and held them up in surrender. “I found a way.”
The Inspector snorted in derision, but did not comment. “I trust you can get back the same way then.”
“Of course,” he agreed, “Inspector?” he called as he turned to head off after the Sergeant and the former-agent. “I might check that agent you’ve been grilling for hypovambiclyde.”
That stopped the Inspector in his tracks. He whirled back to stare at him. “The drug made from vampire venom!?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I?”
“Because that man smelled like it. Very strongly.”
“Could you tell who it’s from?”
“No,” he rumbled, “It was too highly processed. There was no scent markers left to smell. Which does tell me it had to be the work of a powerful coven with the resources to refine venom into the drug.”
The Inspector gazed at him with wide eyes for a second longer before he marched away.
…
Bowman bustled towards the records office, muttering over his clipboard. He hated it when he saw a lot of a particular patient. It meant they got hurt too much for his liking. Poor Lucy could not catch a break. She’d been to the clinic much too often. But there was little he could do about that.
He pushed the door open absent-mindedly, then proceeded to the keypad door at the back. A password latter had him shuffling into the secure room where they kept all his patients more…supernatural medical records.
He sighed upon realizing he had no trouble finding the cabinet where Lucy’s file was kept.
He froze when he did.
The cabinet had a single key, currently still inside his pocket. At least, that was where it should still be.
Yes, he still had it. Pulling it out did not reveal anything strange. This was his key – taken out of its combination-locked hidden compartment in his desk only a few minutes ago.
But the cabinet in front of him was already open.
He had not noticed at first. Everything looked fine. The drawer was pushed fully closed. But it was not locked. He never failed to lock these drawers. Not once.
Oh dear.
He wrenched the drawer open and methodically catalogued everything in every file in the whole thing. Only one thing was missing – the record of Lucy’s mapping.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
He made sure to replace every last bit of paper where it was supposed to be, then re-locked the cabinet with his key. Not that it would do much good now – the damage was already done.
There was video surveillance in both this room and the outer one. He needed to check those.
…
There was nothing to check. All the data from the last 5 hours was completely gone.
Oh dear!
This was not good. No, this was verry, verry bad.
Chapter 102
Notes:
Hehe...off to the races we go!
(((o(*゚▽゚*)o)))
Chapter Text
Barnes had a headache again. Now he did not just have an agent to discipline – he might actually have a vampire-venom-based drug addict to deal with. And that changed…everything.
Vampire venom caused a short-lived sensation of euphoria. Under normal circumstances, it only lasted about 30 minuets – an hour if someone was particularly susceptible. Just long enough for the vampire to feed without their victim struggling too much.
Somewhere along the line, vampires figured out that they could take their venom and refine it into a drug. It caused longer-lasting and more intense feelings of euphoria than a bite. Hypovambiclyde was more addictive than opioids. Extended use damaged cognition and reduced a person’s ability to make judgements and assess risks properly.
It also had the added benefit of making people suggestable.
Not long before Agent Jacobs was shuffled out to the countryside, he’d been a part of a sting operation to dismantle an underground refinery for hypovambiclyde.
It was around that same time reports started to show that Jacobs was making mistakes of judgement in the field he had not been before.
If Lockwood was right about Jacobs…
He nearly ran into Bowman as he marched down the hall of the clinic in the direction of the Doctor’s office.
“Dr. Bowman?” he asked, startled at the man’s frazzled appearance.
It was not all that unusual to find Bowman looking as if there were a few threads loose around the edges. Despite appearances though, he normally had things well in hand and was not truly phased by much.
Right now seemed to be the exception to the rule, however.
“Inspector!” yelped the Doctor. He frowned verry hard at that tone coming from Bowman. “I need to speak with you immediately – somewhere more private than the middle of the hallway.”
He nodded curtly at the Doctor and motioned for him to lead the way. Whatever problems he had with his agent would have to wait. Bowman would not be this harried over nothing.
To his increasing worry, Bowman seemed to dither on where exactly they could go to speak privately. The doctor eventually shuffled himself hurriedly towards the door of a janitor’s closet, motioning for him to follow.
Crease lines formed in his brow as he stared at the man. Whatever this was, it was serious.
Only once they were safely squished inside the thankfully spacious storage room did Bowman turn to him, wringing his hands nervously.
“Inspector,” stuttered Bowman, “I’m afraid we have a very large problem.”
“Which is…?”
“Someone has stolen Lucy Carlyle’s mapping report. Right out of the records office where it was being kept under lock and key.”
A ringing silence filled the small, stuffy, vinegar-smelling storage room. The suck-pop sound of Bowman’s shoes unsticking from the floor rang out as he shuffled his feet nervously.
“You’re certain of this?” he demanded once his shock subsided.
“Positive, Inspector,” assured Bowman. “I went into the room to deposit the paperwork of Lucy’s current stay at the clinic into her file, and I found the cabinet already unlocked. I checked through everything in that cabinet twice – her mapping report was not there. And I found a gap totalling 5 hours in the security footage from the storage room and records office when I went to check.”
He rubbed tiredly at his throbbing headache. This was very, very bad news. “…So we have no idea who could have taken it.”
“Unfortunately not, Inspector,” worried Bowman, ringing his hands again.
…
Barnes rubbed at his throbbing temples while he watched the footage of Jacobs wandering the facility.
Carlyle was safe, for the moment. Lockwood was still sitting with her, and he could not imagine the vampire would let anyone hurt her.
He had initially been worried about Lockwood’s medical training – he could have easily used it to abuse Carlyle and Karim for his own ends – but the medical checks he forced on the two humans proved that false. He was now grateful the vampire knew his way around medicine. It would make it harder for an under-cover vampire servant to do something to Carlyle without anyone realizing what was really going on. Lockwood would know if something was wrong, or if someone was trying to force a “treatment” that was actually completely unnecessary. One less thing for him to worry about.
He sent Kipps to keep tabs on Karim – without telling him what was wrong, only that he needed to keep watch. The researcher would likely be annoyed about the company while he worked. He would just have to deal with it. The last time someone had targeted Carlyle, they did so through him. There was every chance it could happen again.
He wanted to check the security footage and the cabinet for himself. But if they had a mole…that was the fastest way for them to figure out they were closing in.
A pinned vampire was an aggressive vampire, but even they did not have anything on a vampire’s servant backed into a corner. Every servant knew what awaited them if they were apprehended by DSRAC. They also knew exactly what would happen to them if they returned to their masters empty-handed. Of the two things, DSRAC was the lesser concern.
Desperation was a powerful motivator. They could not risk a vampire servant realizing they’d been made and doing something to harm Carlyle.
Hence his reviewing of Jacobs’ excursion around the facility. Maybe they would get lucky and the agent already being held under suspicion would be the culprit. It was the perfect excuse for demanding to review the footage without needing to tell people exactly why. Life, it seemed, was not that easy.
When Wade came to him and admitted she’d lost Jacobs, he’d known something was happening. Somehow, someone managed to pass her orders he had never issued through her radio which had taken her focus off Jacobs long enough for him to slip away.
If everything Bowman had told him was right, the timing was perfect. Jacobs had the opportunity to get to the clinic and search the records office before anyone would think of where to look for him. It was not too much of a stretch to think the man might be a little bitter towards the girl responsible for his current predicament. The obvious answer that he was persuaded by vampires to give them something that would hurt her was too easy though.
Reviewing security footage from the facility put the final nail in that coffin. Jacobs had never made it past the entry to the clinic. Lockwood had stopped him, and held him up long enough for him and Wade to get there. Jacobs was the perfect scapegoat. Someone had probably been hoping to use him as exactly that. But Lockwood had gotten in the way – because the magic he still somehow had access to had been making him restless.
He did not believe in coincidences. Not when it came to magic.
Jacobs had been after Carlyle’s mapping report.
But he’d never made it anywhere close. So that meant someone else had taken it. The only question was who?
Everyone in headquarters had heard at least something about the agent in for a disciplinary hearing. It’s not like they’d kept it quiet. That meant everyone would know who could serve as the best bet to pin the problem on.
But not everyone knew about Carlyle’s mapping.
Mappings were highly private information. Even in his position, if he asked to see it, he would need written permission from Carlyle saying she allowed it to get anywhere close. Neither he nor Wade were allowed inside the records office in the clinic without a warrant or such permission – and written permission from a patient would not permit them into the actual storage room itself. That would still have to be Dr. Bowman’s job.
So, who would have known Carlyle’s medical file would have even contained a mapping report?
There was Dr. Bowman; but he had known the Doctor for a very long time. He hardly ever left the facility – Bowman was one of the few who paid for a room in the DSRAC dorms. And Bowman had been the one to tell him about the theft.
So, if not Bowman, who else?
Himself, for one, and Wade. Other officers might have safely been able to exclude themselves from the list of culprits…but he lived in a different world from normal officers. Vampires with enthralment capabilities could use said abilities to make humans forget things they’d seen or done without them being any the wiser.
He checked over his own movements in the security footage – he was always accounted for. So was Wade. Neither of them had disappeared for any time at all.
So, not him or Wade. Thank god.
Who did that leave?
The only other people who would know about Carlyle having had a mapping done were the members of her curse-breaking team, and the nurses working in the clinic at the time she’d had the procedure.
It was a place to start, but it was one that could amount to nothing. All bets of who could be responsible were off if the vampires behind this had been in contact with Fairfax before everything that happened there.
They were running absolutely blind.
“Look into the nurses working at the clinic the day Carlyle had her mapping procedure,” he ordered Wade. She nodded, her face a touch more grim than usual. “…And pay special attention to any new hires from any time after,” he added before she left.
“Understood, Inspector.”
…
Lockwood startled as George came fuming into Lucy’s room sometime in the late afternoon. “What’s got you in such a huff?” he wondered aloud.
George rubbed rather aggressively at his glasses with the hem of his shirt. “Kipps,” he snarled, “Has been hovering at my shoulder the whole day for some reason, and he won’t go away.”
He cast a look towards the hall and saw Kipps standing rigidly, back against the wall, sweeping the hallway with his eyes directly across from the door to the room.
“Why would he do that?”
George threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Damned if I know,” he growled, “All I got was ‘Can’t say. Barnes’ orders’.”
His eyes snapped sharply over to his friend. “The Inspector is having you watched?”
George carefully reset his glasses on his face before he answered, his tone measured. “Kipps hasn’t been watching me,” he mused, “But he’s been being a general nuisance as he’s been keeping watch.”
“Has something happened?” he asked. If the Inspector was having George followed without explaining the situation…that suggested something was very wrong.
“I don’t know,” admitted George. “Kipps doesn’t know either. But I don’t like this Lockwood. Somethings going on.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of a particularly frazzled looking Dr. Bowman. He frowned. The Doctor’s heart rate was elevated for some reason. He seemed nervous.
“Is everything alright Doctor?” he called.
It was about time for another check on Lucy’s recovery progress…but that was a function normally performed by a nurse. Why was the Doctor here when he did not need to be?
“Oh, yes, everything is fine,” placated Bowman.
He continued to frown at him, listening to the man’s heart rate beat wildly. George had shot him a look when he asked if the Doctor was alright. He now fell to watching Bowman with his brow furrowed.
Being more familiar with Bowman, George was probably noticing things he did not know to look for that spoke of the Doctor’s disquiet.
He watched the Doctor closely as he checked Lucy, waiting for any sign that things were not quite right. But Bowman seemed to be checking for the same. Lucy was recovering well, which seemed to sooth some of the trepidation the Doctor was holding. His heart rate calmed a little once he was able to ascertain that.
…
They would need to check everyone. Quietly, carefully, without anyone realizing what was going on. Barnes knew it. He was sure Wade knew it too. From the very moment Bowman had pulled him into that janitor’s closet, he had known.
Carlyle was not safe here.
She was not safe in that house in Portland Row.
With the handful of people he knew were clean, he could limit the girl’s exposure to potential problems while she remained in the clinic.
But that left too much chance for someone to get in who meant her harm.
Carlyle could not stay here.
DSRAC could not send her anywhere for safety – not so long as they had no idea who was responsible for the theft. They would find out.
As much as he did not like it…this had to be dealt with off the books.
He knew what he needed to do to ensure the safety of that girl. He just needed to figure out if he trusted them enough to do it.
…
The sunset painted the wispy clouds a vibrant crimson. Orange light slanted across the broken shapes and rough edges of buildings left a little too long to seed.
“I have it! It’s here!” called a high-pitched jubilant voice.
“Hand it over,” ordered a smooth voice from the shadows, tucked around the corner of building with peeling paint. “I will be the judge of how well you’ve truly done.”
“It’s hers,” insisted the higher voice. “I took it right out of record storage.”
“You better not have been seen,” growled the silken voice as a pale hand snatched away the papers being held out. “If it turns out you’ve only succeeded in bringing DSRAC down unwittingly on our heads, you won’t live to see the sunrise.”
“No one saw me!” yelped the voice. “And I hacked the security system – there’s no evidence that could possibly link me to the theft, even if they do happen to notice it.”
“Hmmm,” mused the silken voice. “Well, it seems you may have been useful after all.”
The papers were tucked away in the folds of a black jacket, melting into shadow, pale hands disappearing along with them.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” purred the silken voice, “Once we know if your information is any good or not.”
The higher voice gulped. “It’s…it’s good. I swear!”
“Your frantic heartbeat is not reassuring. We will see if you get to keep it.”
…
Lockwood watched the Doctor putter around the room. His heart rate was still elevated – he was still nervous. He kept glancing out the door, as if he were expecting someone to come barging in for some reason. He did not seem bothered by Kipps’ presence in the hall.
What was going on?
George was watching Bowman like he was trying to dissect his thoughts with his eyes alone. He did not seem to be having any luck with it.
He breathed quietly. Bowman was nervous. Sweating from nervousness always smelled different than sweating from heat – this was the former. Bowman seemed like he was afraid to leave this room.
Before the tension in the air managed to reach its ultimate peak, Barnes appeared. He had a hurried conversation with Kipps in the hall. The others in the room probably could not hear through the door, but he could.
“Have you seen anything suspicious?” asked the Inspector.
“Nothing, Sir,” reported Kipps. “No one’s approached them, or done anything.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” sighed the Inspector.
“Inspector,” asked Kipps hesitantly, “What exactly is going on?”
“Not here,” hissed the Inspector. “I have to speak with someone else first.”
Kipps’ face looked as if he wanted to question more, but knew that would get him nowhere.
The Inspector swept into Lucy’s room than, his eyes falling immediately onto him. He raised an eyebrow at the gaze.
“Inspector?” he called, “Is there something you need?”
“Come with me,” he ordered before turning and leaving the way he’d come. He swept past Kipps in the hall without glancing his way once.
“Sometime today would be nice!” called the Inspector in an irritated voice over his shoulder when he did not immediately move to follow.
The Inspector smelled like stress too.
“Leave it, George,” he called softly when he saw his friend open his mouth to protest.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he growled under his breath.
“That much, we already know,” sighed the forgotten Doctor for the other side of the room.
“Well? What are you waiting for!?” snapped the Inspector again.
He rose slowly from his position at Lucy’s side. He laid a hand on George’s shoulder as he passed. “Stay with Lucy, and make sure she’s alright,” he ordered softly.
George tightened his jaw in annoyance, but nodded acceptance anyway.
He followed the Inspector, trying to guess at what was going on from the physical tells he could notice.
…
It probably was not a very good idea to lock himself in an enclosed room with a vampire who was likely wondering what the hell was going on. But he could not risk anyone else overhearing this.
He trusted Bowman. He trusted Kipps and Karim – the latter of which was likely to go with them.
But he needed the only one who could hear this order be the one he was giving it to.
Lockwood followed him silently down the hall of the clinic, through the facility, around several turns and backtracking to an out-of-the-way janitors closet without saying a word. He wondered how much the vampire could surmise from him via his heightened senses.
It probably would not be much more than realizing he was stressed about something.
A raised eyebrow and a questioning look were the only signs of protest he got as he ushered Lockwood into the closet.
“What are you doing?” demanded Lockwood the second the door was closed behind them.
He turned the light on to better see. The vampire probably did not need it, but he did.
“Being careful,” he sighed in answer.
Lockwood frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have a place outside of London to stay, don’t you?” he asked instead of answering just yet. He had decided to do this…but he was still wary. It was the only option he had. That did not mean he necessarily had to like it.
There was a moment of hesitation. “Yes,” answered the vampire tightly, “Though I fail to see what concern that is of yours.”
Well…there was nothing else for it. He had decided to commit to this – commit to trusting the life of a pair of magicals in the hands of a vampire.
“The report of Carlyle’s mapping being kept here has been stollen. We do not know who could have taken it.”
“What!?” thundered Lockwood, voice low, but tone harsh.
“I need you to take her, to wherever it is you were planning on hiding out yourself,” he continued without elaborating. “Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Take Karim with you. And I’m going to send Kipps and the nurse Holly Munro from the clinic with you – Wade and I have already determined they can be trusted.
“I’m…trusting you…to keep them safe – to keep her safe. Don’t make me regret doing this.”
Chapter 103
Notes:
You guys get a long one here this week, hope you enjoy!
🍿😉
Chapter Text
She was supposed to be safe here.
That was all Lockwood could think after hearing the Inspector’s order for him.
“How did this happen?” he rumbled.
“We don’t know.”
“You don’t know!?”
This could not be happening.
There was someone, inside DSRAC, working for vampires who were after Lucy.
This was supposed to be the one place she could be completely safe.
“You should have security in place to stop things like this!” he growled, hands balling into fists. In another lifetime, his palms would have been sweating.
He listened as the Inspector’s heartrate rose just a little – wary of the angry vampire he currently faced. He tried to take a calming breath. Such things were not as helpful to him though, as they would be an ordinary human.
“We do have security,” sighed Barnes, looking as care-worn as he sounded. “They hacked the system, and managed to erase all trace of themselves.”
This could not be happening.
He had to get her out of here…
…He could not take her. She wasn’t even aware enough yet to argue with him if this isn’t what she wanted. Her life, her job, her friends…it was all in London now. He’d always known he’d have to leave her; he couldn’t force her to live his kind of life. Not when she deserved so much better than it…
But he could not abandon her. Leaving had always been the plan, but only once she was safe. She is not safe now, and she can not be, not here. He had to get her out.
They can not go back to the house at Portland Row, not with the Shadows Coven sniffing about.
The oldest coven in existence…
This was not a coincidence.
“I’m going back to Lucy,” he declared suddenly. He knew he’d be sweating bullets right about now if his body was still capable of it.
He twisted on his heel and marched away without waiting for any sort of response. There was no way he was leaving Lucy alone at the clinic for one second longer if there was any chance she could be hurt.
It was a few hallways latter he realized the Inspector was following in his wake. Kipps was still standing guard outside Lucy’s room when he reached it. He marched past without a single glance. Only once he could see for himself that Lucy was safe did some of the anxious tension leave his shoulders.
He wrenched the door open and strode directly to Lucy’s side the second the way was clear. The door crashed into the wall as his fingers wrapped around her wrist, covering her throbbing pulse. He took a deep breath, scenting the air.
Lucy’s natural smell was smothered under sedatives and disinfectant, as it had been the entire time she’d been in the clinic. The lack of any change soothed some part of his stress, but not much.
“Lockwood!” yelped George.
He startled at the noise before he focused in on his friend. “What?” he asked, blinking his eyes.
“I asked you, what the hell is going on?” gripped George from the other side of the bed.
He could tell George was really getting worried now.
“Go get your and Lucy’s things. I’m getting the two of you out of here,” he declared in a voice he hoped would encourage no arguing.
George just blinked at him in surprise. “What? Why?”
“It’s not safe here,” he breathed. He did not want to go into this – not when he had no idea if this room was compromised. Dr. Bowman was still there; neither him, nor Kipps out in the hall smelled different from usual. There were no scents from other vampires on them.
It was something, at least, if not much.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s not safe’,” challenged George, “This is DSRAC.”
“DSRAC has been compromised,” sighed the almost inaudible voice of the Inspector.
George whipped around to stare at him. “What!?”
The Inspector motioned for Kipps to come into the room and close the door behind him.
“What I say here must not leave this room,” warned the Inspector. He fixed each individual with a hard stare for a long moment before continuing. “The report of Carlyle’s mapping has been stolen. We don’t know who by yet – until we do know, I can’t risk moving her into protective custody.”
…
George was in shock. He would have never expected this. Lucy was in danger…from someone inside DSRAC. They had stollen the report of her mapping.
This was a catastrophe.
“Inspector, as much as I understand the importance of moving Miss Carlyle somewhere safe as soon as possible, she can’t go anywhere right now. Not in her condition,” said Bowman.
“How much longer before she’s been completely weened off the sedatives?” asked Lockwood before Barnes could respond.
Lucy shifted in her sleep, rolling towards the sound of Lockwood’s voice.
Probably not that much longer, if he had to take a guess.
Bowman sighed as he fumbled with his usual clipboard. “The next time we change her drip, she’ll be completely off them.”
Lockwood nodded. “While I understand it’s not ideal, she can be moved at that point then.”
“She still needs care,” insisted Bowman, unwilling to budge on the wellbeing of his patient.
At least it was a good indicator that they could still trust him.
“I can look after her,” insisted Lockwood.
“It’s not quite that simple,” tried Bowman, “She needs –”
“With all due respect, Doctor,” interrupted Lockwood, “I know what she needs. I have medical training, and worked as a nurse is A&E only a few years ago. I can look after her.”
When he ventured to shoot a look towards the other occupants of the room, he found both Barnes and Kipps watching silently. Barnes had his usual frown in place, but Kipps’ brow was furrowed as he tried to process what was going on and what it all meant. No one seemed inclined to get in the middle of the exchange between Bowman and Lockwood.
“I’m sorry, but that’s still not conscionable. You wouldn’t be able to keep a close enough watch on her vital signs for it to be safe for her, even if you do have the training you’d need to help her,” said Bowman.
“Keeping track of her vitals won’t be a problem.”
“Yes, it will,” insisted Bowman. He seemed to be getting frustrated now, overcoming his nervous fidgeting at the situation they found themselves in. “It’s not like you can just cart around the monitoring equipment anywhere you go!”
“I don’t need the monitors,” asserted Lockwood.
Bowman looked like he wanted to beat his head against a wall. “How exactly do you think you can manage without them?”
“I can manage because I am a vampire. I don’t need any help keeping track of her heart hate or breathing, and all I need for monitoring her blood pressure is to touch a vein close to the surface.”
“Lockwood!” he yelped in the immediate aftermath. He nervously looked around, as if someone would pop out of the walls and reduce his friend to dust right then and there. But Barnes did not so much as blink an eye. Kipps stiffened and shot a cursory look over his shoulder, as if checking the coast was still clear and no one else had heard them.
Bowman stood staring at Lockwood in shock. He blinked rapidly, worrying at his chapped lips. “Your…but you can’t be. You’re a shifter. You have magic.”
Lockwood tilted his head as he regarded Bowman curiously. “Those abilities were restored to me the same time my soul was.”
“Is that right?” questioned Bowman.
“Yes,” sighed Lockwood. “It’s my cure Fairfax wanted from Lucy and George.”
…
If Bowman thought he could get through this day without any more unpleasant surprises, he had been very wrong.
Lockwood, the bird-shifter who was Lucy’s soulmate, was also a vampire. At least that explained why the connection still had not fully formed, despite the closeness between the two.
…A vampire who could use magic because their soul had been returned to them…
Now that was something new.
Barnes was glaring at Lockwood, a vein throbbing in his temple as he digested the information. “You shouldn’t have said that,” growled the Inspector.
“Why the hell would you admit to what you are, right after everyone found out DSRAC has been compromised by vampires!?” yelped Kipps from the other side of the room.
Lockwood swept his eyes over the lot of them before focusing on the Inspector. “It was the best way to convince Dr. Bowman that I am actually capable of looking after Lucy in her current state, even without any of the proper tools,” he explained.
“You all knew about this?” he asked, inserting himself back into this conversation. “I heard the story of the silver burns…there was never anything to do with that rune, was there? Not until you, Inspector. I’m surprised at you.”
Barnes gave him a searching look before he answered. “I fully intended to kill the vampire responsible for kidnapping Miss Carlyle,” he admitted. Barnes shot Lockwood a guarded look before he continued. “But that was Fairfax, not Lockwood.”
George sucked in a sharp breath at the Inspector’s admission, curling into himself as if ashamed.
“You know that wouldn’t have been your fault George, even if I had been killed,” said Lockwood softly for the researchers benefit.
He was more concerned with the Inspector at the moment. And there is a vampire in the room with them…yes, this was certainly one of those days. Probably the worst he’d ever had.
“You still found yourself a vampire Inspector,” he prodded, “Why did you not kill him?”
There was a beat of silence. It seemed like even Lockwood wanted this question answered. They’d managed to arrest his attention away from murmuring reassurances to George.
“I thought he’d killed Carlyle at first,” admitted Barnes. “But even injured and trapped under a silver net, he still wasn’t aggressive.”
“Am I to believe that was all it took, then?” he asked archly.
“I begged him to let me go so I could save Lucy,” called Lockwood, drawing their attention again. “I told him I’d let him kill me, once she was safe.”
George made an arrested sort of strangled sound that no one had the energy to comment on. He looked from Lockwood to Barnes, then back again. Kipps was off to the side of the room still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Barnes was looking him dead in the eye – they were both trying to size the other up.
He hoped his answer would not disappoint.
“Mr. Karim,” he called, “Where did you get the vampire venom you used to synthesize an antidote?”
The young researcher pinched his glasses between his fingers and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt nervously. “…It was Lockwood’s,” he answered hesitantly. “I’d been toying with the idea of an anti-venom for a while. Couldn’t figure out how to get what I needed to make it work though. Then Lockwood contacted me, and we made a deal – he’d give me vials of the venom I needed, and I’d help him replicate his cure.”
He swept his eyes around the room, lingering on each individual for a long time. He let his focus settle on Lockwood last. “Then I suppose I also have you to thank for being better able to help my patients.”
…
George found himself once again stuffing his research notes in the bottom of a bag, surreptitiously hiding them under his clothes.
Lockwood and Bowman stepped off to have a long conversation about Lucy and her care. He breathed a sigh of relief when they did – it meant Bowman was not going to run screaming from the room and land all their heads on the chopping block. What Lockwood had been thinking to out himself like that right when everyone was already on edge because DSRAC was somehow compromised and Lucy’s mapping report stollen…
But it had worked out. He felt he’d nearly died of a heart attack, but you know. Nobody was dragging him, Barnes, and Kipps off to a DSRAC high-security prison, nor sweeping what was left of Lockwood off the floor. He would count his blessings.
Lockwood did not like the idea of letting him go off on his own, so Kipps was waiting for him outside in the hall. He grabbed his own bag, and the one Flo had packed for Lucy he had stored under his bed.
“Why did you move into the dorms?” asked Kipps as they walked back to the clinic.
“Other vampires from a powerful and aggressive coven were sniffing at the edges of Lockwood’s territory claim,” he answered in an undertone. It would not be good if someone overheard this conversation. “He was worried they were looking for information on Lucy. And because he doesn’t feed on people, he couldn’t answer their incursion the way he would be expected to. He’s familiar with the coven – said they would likely come to kill him and steal his territory just because he ‘admitted to weakness’.”
Kipps stayed quiet for the rest of the journey as they walked. “He was planning on leaving?”
“…Originally,” he hedged.
Kipps cast him a hard look. “While Carlyle was out of commission?” pressed Kipps. “She’d have had his head if she woke up in the clinic and he’d buggered off to who-knows-where.”
“That’s essentially what I told him.”
“What changed his mind?”
“I’m not sure,” he sighed, “No matter what I said, it didn’t look like I was getting through to him. It might have been Flo though.”
He was actually pretty certain it was Flo who made the difference. She had been rescued by Lockwood too, years ago. While he and Lockwood had become friends, he did not have the same sort of connection to the vampire Lucy or Flo did. He’d never actually needed Lockwood in the way Lucy and Flo had. Their relationship had started off as a convenience, not a necessity for survival.
Yes, he was pretty sure it had been Flo who made the difference.
Speaking of, “Hey, hey, Flo!” he called when he spotted her around the next corner.
She turned at his voice, throwing an arched brow over his shoulder when she spotted Kipps. “Heya, Georgie,” she called. “What you doin with all your stuff and Kippy here following you around like a lost puppy.”
“We need to talk,” he whispered darkly, dragging her to the nearest unlocked door. Kipps slipped into the room behind them before he could shut the door. Flo continued to watch him intently.
“What’s up, Georgie?” she asked.
“Lucy’s mapping report was stolen from secure storage,” he breathed.
The playfully mocking expression on Flo’s face from a moment before fell away. “What!?” she snapped as an intense seriousness settled onto her.
“Bowman noticed it was gone earlier today,” he explained, “And told Barnes right away. Whoever stole it, also hacked into the security system and erased any trace of themselves. We don’t know who could have done it.”
Tension filled the air as Flo processed the terrible news. “…Isn’t that no-good agent from her home town still here?” she asked.
“Barnes already had that thought. Apparently, Lockwood’s magic was making him restless, so he took a walk around the clinic and ran into him at the entrance. He said the ex-agent is addicted to Daydream.”
Flo whistled, “Suppose that would explain why he ‘never found trace of a powerful magical’ in all his sweeps. His supplier probably forbade him from mentioning her.”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Which also means that a powerful coven was interfering in Lucy’s hometown.”
“Could it be the same coven sniffin about Portland Row?”
“I think Lockwood’s starting to believe it is.”
Flo swore, colourfully and exuberantly. He prided himself on his vocabulary, but he was not familiar with half the ones she used. “Didn’t Locky say he wouldn’t be able to stop them if they came in force?”
“…Yeah.”
She swore again.
“This is why he really wanted the both of you out of that house?” asked Kipps. He startled, having almost forgotten him in the room.
“Sure was,” answered Flo, turning to him. “What you got to do with it?”
Kipps scowled at her. “I’m here to make sure nothing happens to Karim.”
“Barnesy’s orders, eh?” she asked archly. “Or was it Locky?”
“A bit of both,” he said, cutting in. Lockwood had not wanted to let him out of his sight, even just to get his and Lucy’s things. Kipps escorting him was the only compromise he’d been willing to give. Lucy, after all, was the one in greatest danger. He elected to stay with her.
“Flo,” he continued, “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up Georgie?”
“Can you go to the house and find Lucy’s copy of her mapping report? I know Lockwood won’t agree to let me go,” he said.
Kipps shot him a guarded look. “What do you want that for?” he asked.
“If a coven of vampires has Lucy’s mapping report, it stands to reason they’re planning on trying to do something to her magic. If we have a copy of the report, we’ll be better able to help her, should they manage to get what they want.”
“I’ll get if for you George,” asserted Flo.
“Be careful,” he breathed, “We don’t know who could be watching.”
Flo nodded to show she understood before she was gone.
“You think it’s really a good idea to cart something like that around with us?” asked Kipps once they were alone.
“I think it’s a better idea than leaving it lying around somewhere where anyone could get it.”
“Fair enough.”
…
Sensations were patchy, and she did not quite know what to make of what they were telling her. There were people talking in the room. She could not focus enough to make out what they were saying. It sounded like there was quite a number of them.
Was that Lockwood’s voice?
Was that George’s startled shout, reprimanding him?
She was not sure. It would make sense for them to be here…
…But Lockwood wanted her gone, didn’t he? She was so confused. Nothing was making sense; least of all where she could possibly be.
Someone started poking and prodding at her, calling her name. Was that Bowman? She woke a little more. It certainly seemed like it was Bowman. She tried responding to him as best she could, but thought was slipping through her grasp.
“…what’s happening to me?” she whispered, scared.
“Lucy,” rumbled a voice she felt more than heard. “It’s alright. You’re in the clinic at DSRAC. You’ve been asleep for some time. Let the Doctor look you over, and then I’m going to get you out of here, ok?”
That…sounded like Lockwood…but wasn’t he making her move out? What was going on?
“Easy Luce, it’s alright.”
That was the last she heard before something more jealous than sleep dragged her away from all sensation.
Chapter 104
Notes:
Sorry this ones so late, but I've got to get my buns in gear and head to work, and I felt really unmotivated in all things life-related over the weekend, but here's the next instalment. Hope you guys like it!
(🤞🏻🫣)
Chapter Text
Lockwood was not exactly happy when he heard about George sending Flo to the house in search of Lucy’s copy of her mapping report.
“She’ll be fine,” he insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “Flo knows how to stay off the radar.”
“It’s already dark out,” worried Lockwood. “Anyone could be watching.”
It was a concern of his as well, but he knew Flo could take care of herself. “Flo’s got more than enough magic to be able to defend herself.”
“Small comfort, that is,” muttered Lockwood darkly.
He saw Kipps shrug from his place off to the side. For the most part, he was staying out of the argument, but he gave his two cents now. “Even if the coven you’re worried about is watching the house, Flo’d be fine. It’s not like they’ve got a mapping of her magic. And I happen to know she carries a silver-plated knife with her wherever she goes.”
Lockwood shot a dark look Kipps’ way. “Silver only hurts vampires,” he growled, “It doesn’t kill them. And injured vampires are more aggressive. It’s not better.”
“Weren’t you the one to give Flo that knife in the first place?” he asked as he cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt nervously.
“I did,” admitted Lockwood after a moment.
He replaced his glasses before fixing Lockwood with a stern look. “You had it specially made fore her, if I recall,” he said, “You gave it to her because you know the threat of silver alone is enough to scare off plenty of vampires.”
Lockwood only scowled. “The same won’t be true if a member of the Shadows Coven goes after her,” he growled.
Lockwood did let the matter drop after that, even if he was not very happy about it. It was not like he could stop Flo anyway – that would require him to leave Lucy unattended.
…
Since they were still trying to keep a low profile, Bowman left to attend to his other duties. He’d been somewhat reluctant to leave; not wanting to abandon a patient that might have need of him. But nothing that could hurt Lucy was going to get past Lockwood. And Kipps stationed himself outside in the hall again as guard.
“I don’t like this…” muttered Bowman as he fiddled nervously with his clipboard.
“I don’t think any of us like what’s happening now, Doctor,” sighed George.
“Any of my nurses could be the problem…any of the agents could be the problem,” worried Bowman.
“It’s not that much longer now,” commented Lockwood. He cast a look at Lucy’s IV bag. It was maybe three quarters empty. It would be changed over soon, and then they could move Lucy and get the hell out of here.
Bowman sighed again, looking careworn. “I’ll mix a new bag myself and bring it in for the change over. Are you certain you have what you need to keep her on the fluids and medications she’ll need after that?” he asked, directing his question at Lockwood.
Lockwood inclined his head. “Yes, I’m sure, Doctor. Lucy is not the first magical I’ve helped in that way. I have everything I need where we’re going.”
While Bowman still did not look completely convinced, he made no more comments.
…
“Hey Kipps, how’s Lucy been doing?” asked Bobby suddenly.
Kipps startled at the sound. He’d been watching for people coming. Somehow, Bobby had still managed to sneak up on him. He cast an evaluative look over the younger researcher. “She’s fine,” he ground out, not wanting to give any further details. “Why are you here?”
Bobby seemed discomfited for some reason. He frowned down at him, suspicion coiling in his guts.
“…To come see her?” prodded Bobby.
“Why?” he pressed, staring down their old teammate. “You haven’t spoken to her once since Barnes kicked you off the team after she was attacked by black magic. Except for when Kat and I forced you to come and apologize.”
Bobby shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Well…I…want to try making amends?”
He did not sound very confident. His suspicions started to coil into something sharper.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t let you in,” he finally settled on. “Lucy’s magic is on the frits again. Barnes has left orders that no one except approved visitors are to be allowed in to see her. Your name didn’t make the list. If you have a problem with that, go talk to him.”
“It can’t hurt if I just –”
“– Yes, actually, it can hurt,” he snapped. “Lucy’s magic is highly sensitive. You don’t have a close enough relationship with her for it to be a good idea for you to be there.”
“But –”
“I said no, Bobby,” he growled, “And that’s the end of it.”
Bobby huffed and marched away, muttering darkly that that was not how magic worked. He frowned at the kid’s back. What did he know? Vernon did not have any magic. He did not know how it felt, or how it acted. And if he was being honest here…Vernon was not a good enough researcher to have found those things out for himself.
…
“Has you noticed anything suspicious?” barked Wade when she showed up to check in a little while latter.
He chewed on his answer for a moment too long, making her scowl at him harder than normal. “Mr. Kipps,” she ground out, “I might remind you of the delicacy of the situation we are in. If you have any information, you’d do well not to hold it back.”
“…Bobby came by.”
Her only reaction was to continue to scowl at him, so he moved to elaborate. “He…said he wanted to come see Lucy…to start making amends. But he hasn’t made any attempts like that since the whole fiasco of that black magic attack Lucy suffered.”
Wade nodded in understanding and strode off without another word.
He wondered if he wasn’t overreacting.
…
“If you want to get at Carlyle, you’re going to have to move quickly. I’m pretty sure Barnes knows something’s going on. Dr. Bowman might have already realized her mapping report is missing and told him,” worried a voice.
“Hmm,” mused a second, smoother voice. “You said you were able to get into the DSRAC security system.”
“…Yes?”
“You will do it again.”
“…I…”
“If you want your prize, you will hack into the system and find out where they send the girl,” growled the smoother voice. “Or else we no longer have any need of you.”
Frantic scrambling sounded out. “No wait! I can do it! I’ll get you what you want, I swear!”
“See that you do.”
…
She blinked awake somewhere with bright lights and the smell of antiseptic, rhythmic beeping sounding in the background.
“Lucy?” called what had to be Lockwood’s voice.
She groaned in answer, but managed to roll her head to the side.
“…Lock…wood?” she breathed. Her head spun, and she felt dizzy even though she was already laying down. There was a fogginess at the edges of her mind that felt forced. Shrugging off the sensation did not do much good – the feeling still lingered – but she was definitely certain that Lockwood was there with her.
“Can you focus on me Lucy?” asked Lockwood softly.
She tried to, but it was hard. Focus did not seem to want to work for her right now. It felt kind of strange to have Lockwood test her on it, like a nurse at the clinic would. That had to be where she was, though she did not know how or why she might have ended up there.
“…Why are you here?” she managed to whisper while Lockwood prodded at her, checking her reactions. “…You wanted me gone…you were throwing me out…”
He paused in his ministrations and let out a drawn-out sigh. “Oh Luce,” he murmured. “That was never what it was.”
She did not understand. But then Bowman was there, doing his own poking and prodding. The threads of the conversation that started up between him and Lockwood were lost on her. She barely registered the sounds of George’s and Flo’s voices before she was falling asleep again, not that no one was paying her any attention.
…
George was starting to feel antsy by the time Flo showed up, hiding Lucy’s copy of her mapping report tucked between the pages of her old sketchbook.
“She’d hidden it at the bottom of her bedside drawer. Almost missed it between all the papers of her drawings,” commented Flo as she handed it over.
He seized the whole bundle and stashed it away in his own bag before anyone could do much more than blink at it.
“Did you have any trouble?” asked Lockwood in concern.
Flo only shook her head.
Lockwood did not look convinced though. “No one was watching the house? You didn’t see anyone hovering about as you left?”
“There’s still like three separate teams of DSRAC agents milling about the neighborhood Locky,” placated Flo, “Vampires would be smart enough to steer clear.”
“Not if DSRAC is compromised and they have their servants imbedded in those teams,” he muttered darkly.
Flo gave him a serious look. “Don’t think I didn’t have the thought too,” warned Flo, “S’why I waited for a gap when no teams were around before I even tried getting in. Even went in the back way so nobody’d see.”
“Doesn’t that house have a walled garden?” pipped up Quill from the sidelines where he had taken to hovering.
Flo spared him a single look before she shrugged. “Sure does, what of it?” questioned Flo.
Kipps scowled while he snorted. He did not get the chance to respond before Bowman came back in with Lucy’s new IV bag.
Once it was set up, Bowman turned to the rest of them. “I understand that you want to be moving on,” he started, “But you’ll have to wait at least a few hours –”
“I’m well aware, Doctor,” cut in Lockwood. “I know we have to wait for the clean IV to flush the last vestiges of the sedatives from her system before we move her. Do not worry.”
Bowman seemed to slump in exhaustion. “Alright then. I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on her.”
“How are we getting her out of here?” he asked, cutting in for the first time.
“We could take one of the DSRAC vans,” offered Kipps, “I can drive.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Lockwood, “I’ve already made other arrangements. And I’m aware that all DSRAC vehicles have locators. We can’t risk whoever hacked into the security system doing it again and finding us through the van.”
Kipps gave him a dark look. “Oh yeah, and what ‘arrangements’ might those be?” he snapped.
He pinched his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt nervously. He had never asked how Lockwood was able to move silently through life without DSRAC or anyone else finding out about him. It stood to reason that there was a whole underground support network for the needs of vampires. While Lockwood had no qualms about helping out…he was still a vampire himself, and therefore had a vested interests in keeping quiet about those networks.
“Everything we need will be in an unlocked van located at the carpark three streets over.”
…
First, she thought she was in the clinic in DSRAC, except Lockwood was the one looking after her.
And then she was at the clinic, but Bowman was checking her over as normal.
And then she thought she was in a car, with both Lockwood and…Holly there for her?
Nothing seemed to be making sense. Wakefulness kept fleeing her grasp. She did not understand.
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Charmingbexi on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Dec 2024 02:35AM UTC
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backfiredspells on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Dec 2024 01:58PM UTC
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schokoleibniz on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Dec 2024 09:54PM UTC
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backfiredspells on Chapter 1 Sat 28 Dec 2024 01:57AM UTC
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Nomolosk on Chapter 3 Tue 31 Dec 2024 02:52AM UTC
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