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I’ve walked the earth and there are so few here that know
How dark the night and just how cold the wind can blow
I’ve no more hunger now to see where the road will go
I’ve no more kept my warmth
Than blood upon the snow
The wind was raging outside of 35 Portland Row. It was an uncharacteristically cold December day, and all the inhabitants were feeling the effects of it. George had passed out cups of piping hot tea and everybody was wrapped up in jumpers around the Thinking Cloth, waiting to hear about the next case.
George pulled out a sheet of notebook paper and began rambling off what he had found. “Reports of a Solitary off of Millbank. A Mrs. Wayne of number 60 Millbank is the one who reached out to us about the figure of a child in the middle of the river and a strong sense of misery. Based on my research, there was an accidental drowning reported on the bank in ‘67.”
“Do we know much about the victim?” Lucy asked between sips of her tea.
“Ah, yes.” George took a moment and rifled through the stack of papers he had accumulated on the table. “Here we go, a thirteen year old Jimmy Wuthers. He went missing on June 18th and was found the morning of the 19th.”
You wrinkled your nose in discomfort. “Awful way to go, drowning. Not my way of choice.”
Lockwood looked up from the horrendous doodle of a ghost he was drawing on the Thinking Cloth. “And that’s to say you have a preferred way of dying?” The corner of his lips turned up into a smile.
Your face flushed, embarrassed that he was finding this amusing. “Well, yes. One could hope for a quiet, peaceful death at the end of your life instead of being brutally murdered by a common criminal or ghost.”
“Noted. I’ll put it in your employee file,” Lockwood quipped before returning back to coloring what you thought were limbs?
“Continuing on,” George interrupted, “the kits are all packed. I checked them myself this morning—“
“Which means I will double check them again,” Lucy muttered under her breath. George shot her a glare before continuing.
“Just because I forgot the iron filings one time does not mean—“
“It’s good practice to always double check things, George. I’m sure Lucy doesn’t mean anything by it,” Lockwood said with a pointed stare to the brunette over his tea cup.
“No, of course not, I’m sorry George,” Lucy apologized, thoroughly chagrined.
“You were saying, George?” you encouraged.
He huffed a bit before speaking again. “We can be ready to leave within the hour to interview Mrs. Wayne.”
“That settles it. Gather up your things, dress warmly, and meet back here in thirty,” Lockwood instructed before standing up and heading to his room.
You and Lucy went up to the attic room that you shared, changing into much warmer outside clothes: layers of leggings and jeans, sweaters and coats, and finally your rapiers strapped to your waists. The layers would make it a little difficult to act quickly, but with this weather it was necessary.
Perhaps you could describe yourself as a little nervous. There was always a sense of anxiety that came with the winter cold: it was biting, harsh, and fierce as it took away greenery, sunshine, and life from the outside. Nature was a force to be reckoned with, and you had your own troubles staying warm in the first place. Your hands and fingers were always cold, so socks and jumpers with long sleeves were kept close, heating packs and cozy blankets a must, just so that you would stop feeling icy. Winter’s freezing touch made staying warm so much harder. Hence another extra layer of jumpers and leggings that Lucy didn’t have.
She disappeared to help George check the kits again while you wandered down to the kitchen where Lockwood was. He looked up. “Come to help?” he asked. You smiled.
“Of course,” you said. He had been making hot cocoa and tea, packing up sandwiches and little bits of chocolate. You got out the thermos and a container to put the sandwiches in.
There was a comfortable silence that spread over the moment, the two of you working separately and yet together. It was interrupted shortly with the sound of George tromping around in his large boots and Lucy following him with the rattling of the kits.
“I suppose that means it's time to go,” Lockwood said. You looked up at him, a strand of hair falling into your eyes. You held each other's gazes for a moment, and then to your surprise, Lockwood reached out a tentative hand and brushed the hair back from your face. All you could do was blush for a moment before Lucy poked her head into the room.
“We’re all ready here and the car is waiting outside,” she informed.
“Very well,” Lockwood said, straightening up. He gathered up the chocolate and the sandwiches, leaving you holding the two thermos, mouth slightly gaping at what had just happened. Lucy shot you a curious look before you shut your mouth, flushed again and walked out.
Once you had all piled into the car, Lockwood being the lucky one in the front seat and you unfortunately squeezed between Lucy and George in a tiny middle seat, the car set off for Millbank.
It was a twenty minute ride, and when you had pulled up in front of Mrs. Wayne’s house, it was already starting to get dark. And here started the adrenaline filled portion of the investigation.
Stepping out of the car, you were surprised at how cold it already was outside. The wind stripped your body of any heat it was trying to hold under all the layers of clothes, and it was sure to only get worse.
The four of you hurried into Mrs. Wayne’s house where she stood in the entryway, wrapped in a dark red robe.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. Lockwood seemed to have turned on his charming young man persona, because all of the sudden he was standing tall, his chest all puffed up and speaking with some kind of know it all mature voice. It was endearing how he tried to seem all older and more mature when talking with people so that they would trust him and his agency. At the end of the day he was just a kid trying to succeed in life.
“Of course, Mrs. Wayne. We’re here to help anyway we can. What can you tell us about the haunting?” he asked.
Mrs. Wayne wrapped her robe around herself tighter. “It started last month. There was a strange draw to the water, and then a sickening sense of dread came later. Last week, my husband was coming home from work and it was fairly cloudy outside. He said the air dropped ten degrees and that he felt sick. I was watching from the window, so I had enough time to call him in before anything happened, but that’s when we decided to call you.”
“We’ll take care of the issue right away, ma’am,” Lockwood promised. He turned to you and the team. “Let’s set up outside and see what we can do.”
So the four of you trudged back outside with a worried looking Mrs. Wayne watching from the windows. George and Lockwood set up the chains in a circle on the street in front of the bank of the Thames. You and Lucy walked the perimeter, taking note of the temperature, the feelings of nausea and miasma that appeared.
“So…what were you and Lockwood up to in the kitchen this evening?” Lucy asked, not so subtly.
Your face froze, trying so hard not to reveal any affectionate emotions. “Well, um, it was nothing. We were just making tea and sandwiches for the case,” you said bashfully.
Lucy gave you a pointed look. “I walked in and you two were looking at each other like there were no other thoughts beside each other, completely enamored.”
“I don’t know, he just brushed a lock of hair out of my face. It wasn’t a big deal,” you said, turning your head away so Lucy couldn’t see your blush.
“Either way, I think he likes you. Likes you a lot. He would barely give me the time of day when I was signed on to the agency, too distracted by the thought of being a well-known agent and the adrenaline of near-death escapades, and yet he follows you around like a puppy dog just waiting for you to give him any kind of attention,” Lucy pointed out.
“If he really liked me I think he would do something about it,” you argued gently.
Lucy stopped and you turned to look at her, the dark barely showing her face. She said your name softly.
“I think in his own way, he is. He lost his sister and his parents, and I think he’s afraid of getting too close and losing you too. But the way his eyes follow you, or the little way he touches your hand or fixes your hair, I think that’s how he’s showing you he cares,” she said in a far off voice. And then in a fiercer tone, “Be patient with him, and don’t be scared of being a little bold. I think that boy needs a good snogging, but not too good or else I think his ego would inflate so much that he’d fly out the window.”
You laughed for a moment, and Lucy joined in. “I’ll make a note of that,” you promised. And for that second there, the two of you forgot the cold air and the awful smell of the water for a happier moment of just two girls being friends.
“Y/N! Lucy!” you heard Lockwood call. “Come back this way!” The two of you hurried back down the street where he and George had finished setting up. “What did you two find?” he asked once you had come closer.
Lucy pulled out the little notepad with her notes. “In front of Mrs. Wayne’s house is definitely the epicenter. The strongest sense of hopelessness and the coldest temps are here. My guess is that that boy died close to here.”
Just then, a breeze blew through, making everybody shiver.
You were looking out towards the water, when you thought you saw something move. You froze.
“Did anyone else see that?” you asked. Lockwood turned to you, his face set in a stern resolve.
“I can see it. Let’s all get in the chains,” he instructed. Each of you stepped into the chains and watched as the dark spot out on the water grew bigger and bigger until it formed into some kind of figure. It began to come slightly closer.
“What’s the plan, Lockwood?” George asked, a hint of nervousness entering his voice.
“Lucy, why don’t you try to communicate with the ghost, see if there is anything we can learn before we resort to fighting for our lives,” he instructed.
“Copy that!” she said before stepping out of the circle. She pulled her coat up closer to her neck in order to fight off the cold and began to speak to the ghost. “What is your name?” she shouted over the water. Lucy waited for a response, but to the rest of you, unable to communicate with ghosts the way Lucy could, you heard nothing except the whistle of the wind. “Do you know how you died?” She paused again and waited. The shadowy figure came steadily closer. “What is holding you here?” she tried again.
Suddenly, she flinched, perhaps from whatever phantom noises she could hear, and drew her rapier just as the figure rapidly enlarged in an explosion of shadow and raced towards the group off the river.
“I expect that didn’t work!” Lockwood shouted before stepping out of the circle and drawing his own rapier. “Did he say anything?”
“Not much,” Lucy responded, pulling her sword into a defensive position. “I heard something about a murderer and then it got
very
mad.”
You turned to George. “Is there anything about a murderer in these parts that we could have missed?”
George looked perhaps slightly ashen, trying to think about what he could have missed. “Well, given the research, there were a few notes about some suspicious drownings around the same time that Jimmy died. It is possible that he was one of the victims that was never connected to the case.”
“That’ll be it then.” You sighed before shouting to Lockwood and Lucy, “We’ve got a possible murder victim!”
“Explains the anger!” Lucy shouted back before making a vicious swipe at the approaching figure.
“George and Lucy, go back to Mrs. Wayne’s house and look for the Source. It’s likely something that’s been with the house for a while. George, you know the most about the murders, and Lucy, you can use your touch to find the item. Y/N will stay here and help me hold off the ghost while you search, she’s got the best sight and rapier skills for this situation,” Lockwood called back. He turned his head towards you for a moment and threw a wink. “Are you ready?”
A smile ghosted your lips. “Of course I am, Lockwood. Who wouldn’t want to kick arse at your side?” You stepped out of the iron circle and locked the ghost in your sight, rounding to Lucy’s side and taking over so that she and George could run back to the house.
The ghost’s reach was much stronger here outside of the chains. A shiver ran through you and you felt the pull of the river with it. Normally a Visitor wouldn’t affect you this much, but with the cold…
You tried to stay focused and steel your mind on the task ahead. Lockwood needed your help. The two of you worked together, moving your rapiers in a figure eight pattern that kept the ghost from advancing on either side of you, keeping it pushed against the water where you and Lockwood stood from the bank. George and Lucy ran back up the street to the house and you could hear Mrs. Wayne let them in. All was going well.
At least until you readjusted your feet, bumping into some sort of rubble on the road that rolled your ankle and took your gaze from your rapier, making you lose the inertia of your move. In that moment of weakness, you could feel the Visitor latch its spectral gaze onto you, the air dropping more than you thought it could.
Step forward.
Step towards the water.
Unwillingly, your feet slowly began to walk. Some small bit of your unconscious was screaming in the back of your brain, trying to wake you up, but the rapier dropped from your hand and your descent into the river began.
A cloudy film was beginning to spread across your eyes, the Ghost Lock starting to take its hold.
Lockwood shouted your name, trying to get your attention, but there wasn’t much he could do. You were thigh deep into the water now, but he tore off his coat and tossed it to the ground before running in after you, pulling you to his waist.
“You stay the fuck away from her,” he snarled to the Visitor before chucking a salt bomb he had pulled from his pants pocket and shielding you with his body from the kickback of the blast.
With a jolt, you were released from the Ghost Lock, knees buckling and you sagged into Lockwood’s hold.
“C’mon then, back to the bank before the bastard comes back with a vengeance,” he cajoled, his dark eyes keeping an eye on the water while pulling you up to shore.
Chills were running through your body, teeth chattering and clothes stiffening with ice as you started towards the bank. Lockwood quickly helped you settle at a spot on the ground, throwing his coat over you before picking up his rapier and standing before the water. With the moon ahead and the reflection off the water, it bathed him in an almost holy glow with his weapon drawn.
There were two long, quiet minutes of waiting with freezing clothes and chattering teeth before the temperature seemed to drop again and the figure returned on the horizon.
“Let’s hope that George and Lucy are almost done with their search. I’d quite like a cup of hot tea after our little swim,” Lockwood called back to the shore. You smiled as best you could, pulling his coat closer around you.
Lockwood began waving his rapier in the figure eight again as the figure came closer, and as you drifted in and out of frozen consciousness, the ghastly figure disappeared. Lockwood could be heard sighing in relief before trudging back to you.
“C’mon love. Let’s regroup and get home.” He helped you stand up, getting your arms in the sleeves of his coat and then helping you walk up towards the house where George and Lucy stood with a silver case in hand.
“Are you alright?” Lucy called as you got closer.
“Took a little dip, but we’re fine,” Anthony answered with a strained smile.
George scoffed. “More than a little. You both look half frozen to death.”
Lockwood stayed by your side the whole time, letting Lucy and George handle saying goodbye to Mrs. Wayne and loading things into the cab. He was completely focused on you.
He helped you into the middle seat of the cab before sliding in next to you and pulling you close, keeping ahold of your hands and rubbing them with his own to try and get the blood flowing again.
The cab ride back was near silent and you remained smushed between Lockwood and Lucy who were sitting close to try and keep you warm.
As soon as the cab stopped on Portland Row, Lockwood jumped out, turning back to help you. He tossed his wallet to George.
“For the cab. I’m getting her inside, you two handle the cleanup for a moment.” A particularly vicious shiver passed through you and Lockwood rushed you up the steps.
“To the shower you go. I’ll have the fire and some tea for you downstairs once you’re ready,” he said. Lockwood looked slightly frightened, afraid to leave you alone, so you squeezed his hand.
“I’ll be down there as quick as I can,” you promised. He nodded.
You took a quick, boiling hot shower before changing into the warmest clothes you could find. Dashing downstairs, you came into the kitchen where George and Lucy stood whispering. Everything was cleaned up from the mission, and the tea kettle was warming up. George smiled a bit.
“Glad to see you alright. I’m going to go clean up.” He patted your shoulder before heading out.
“You should make sure Lockwood is okay,” Lucy said. “He’s worried about you.”
“I could tell,” you admitted. “I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”
Lucy gave you a firm hug. “See you in the morning.” She left, heading up to bed. The tea kettle started to whistle and Lockwood rushed in, looking a little frazzled. He’d changed, but it also seemed as though he had been running around.
“Hi,” he said, standing still for a moment. You smiled and turned your head to take him in before deciding to just say screw it. You rushed into his arms and he pulled you close.
“Thank you,” you said forcefully. Slowly his hand came up to your hair. “For saving me, for being there, for everything. You are a good leader and a good man and I’m alright because of you.”
“Of course. I’ll always keep you safe.”
The embrace ended and you both prepared the tea before settling into the sitting room where the fire roared. Lockwood pulled the blanket off the armchair before placing it atop both of your legs. While sipping your tea, you scooched closer and laid your head on his shoulder, causing him to pause and he looked over to you.
“Lockwood, I think I quite like you. Regardless of you saving my life or not,” you confessed in a whisper.
“I quite like you too,” he responded. And so you lay there, reveling in the warmth of each other, and eventually when the tea was gone, Lockwood placed the teacups on the side table before drawing your face up to his with his hand and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You blushed and kissed him back a bit more, but soon, exhaustion caught up with you both, so you curled into each other, sharing warmth, before drifting off to sleep together.