Hello Everyone! Welcome to my fourth story. I'm not sure if any of you have been monitoring my activity, but, nevertheless, sorry for my lengthy absence. Upon finishing my last story, I noted that I struggled with some characterization in one of the main roles, so hopefully I'll hit the nail on the head this time. As usual, I hope you enjoy the story, and, either way, I would really appreciate a review. Happy reading! ~Annie
Holiday
Chapter One: Intruder
"Let's go! Cab's due in five!" Lockwood's voice echoed up the stairs and into my room. I ran around hurriedly, packing things in my duffle bag as I went.
"This is procrastination at its finest," chuckled the Skull gleefully.
"Bathing suits. Where are my blasted bathing suits?" I cried.
"Door."
"Ah, yes. Tha –" Thunk!
"Well, that had to hurt."
"Yes, yes it did," I murmured, scrabbling to my feet. I kicked the shoe that I'd tripped over to the side as I grabbed the shopping bag off of the door handle and thrust the new suits into my bag. "That's it. That's all I need." I scooped up the Skull just as Lockwood called to me once more.
"All right, Luce. We really need to go!"
"Coming!" I called back. Then, I ran down the stairs, passed Lockwood in the front hallway, and went out the door. Behind me, he switched off the lamp and locked up 35 Portland Row. I waited. Lockwood turned to face me, suitcase in hand, and grinned. Not just any grin, but an infectious one. I couldn't help feeling excited myself. In all of my years, I had never once been on holiday. Lockwood briskly walked with me to the cab, hand on my lower back. I dumped my bags in the trunk and slid in. There sat, four warm, familiar faces. Two being my close associates not to mention friends, George Cubbins and Holly Munroe. One was a dear friend and trusted ally, Quill Kipps, former agent at the recently failed Fittes agency. And finally, Flo Bones, relic-girl and long-term friend of my boss, friend, and so much more, Anthony Lockwood.
"Took you long enough," Kipps grumped. He was squished in between Holly and George, mostly George. Holly took up little room, and she did not seem to mind Quill invading her space all too much. They'd been stepping out as of late.
"Are we all set? Great. Let's go," Lockwood beamed from the front seat. In Lockwood's absence, as he was seated beside our driver, I had sat next to Flo to give her support. It sounds funny really. She's a strong, smart girl, but in the daylight, she seemed a little more feeble than usual being a relic-girl and all that. She didn't enjoy being out in the daytime, but everyone had insisted that she join us.
I suppose you're wondering where we were headed off to. Well, due to our recent successes, overwhelming amount of business, but mostly our involvement in the downfall of Marissa Fittes, Inspector Montague Barnes of Scotland Yard, contrary to his deepest annoyance against our charming leader, found it fit to provide payment for a weeklong holiday away from London. I wasn't quite sure where our destination was at the time, for Lockwood refused to share any details, but he had let on that it would be warm, and that beyond a doubt, we would need swimsuits. Inspector Barnes had paid for all of us, Flo Bones included. She, too, had taken part in the recent destruction of the most trusted and eldest agencies in all of London. She deserved the break, though I could tell it made her nervous.
"You can't tell us anything?" inquired Holly.
"Nope," grinned Lockwood, barely containing his excitement. "Oh, actually, seeing as we're nearing our stop, it's best that I hand you these." He passed back bag tags. We were flying. Sure, I'd followed Lockwood into many situations. We'd jumped into the pitch-black Thames, gone in haunted iron circles, and even traversed across a frozen London, but flying? In an aeroplane? That made my stomach unsteady. Still, I fastened it to my duffel and said nothing.
Soon enough, we arrived at our destination, the airport. I won't bore you with the details of it. We checked in for our flight. Lockwood refused to give us our tickets until the very last moment, as they would spoil the location. Finally, he handed me mine, and I read in bold letters "British Virgin Islands." I looked at him. He said nothing, but only smiled. It turned out, once we were accommodated on the plane, that my seat was placed between George and Lockwood. Lockwood took the aisle, and I forced George into the window seat. I preferred to not be reminded that I would soon be off of the ground. Upon takeoff, I faintly remember clutching someone's arm for dear life, before blacking out perhaps from fear, but most likely due to lack of sleep. And not long after, I woke to the gentle shaking of my arm.
"Lucy? Luce? We're here." I opened my eyes to find Lockwood standing above me. He smiled. "Everyone is gathering their things, here." I unbuckled my seat belt and stood. Soon, we were in cabs to the hotel. It was nearly eight at night. In the darkness, I could not see many details of the island, but I had no doubt that it was beautiful. I became excited at the prospect of the upcoming week. Around ten, I withdrew to my room, leaving the others outside on a patio, who would later follow suite. It had been a long day of traveling, and I felt the exhaustion slowly overcoming me. Sleep came easily.
Sometime, in the early, early hours of the morning, I heard a thud, awaking me from my sleep. Trouble was, it repeated again. The room was cold, and although I had left the room air conditioning off, I could feel the temperature dropping. It was only then that I noticed the open window, the streaming curtains billowing in the nighttime wind, only then that I realized that I was not alone. Someone was in my room. Despite being on holiday, I was an agent, which meant I carried my rapier with me everywhere. I fought back the sleep that drifted in my brain, that remained in control of my eyes. I fought back sleep in order to remember where I had laid it earlier that night. The chair. I slipped from bed and slinked over to the chair. All went successfully, and finally, my eyes adjusted to the dark. Across the room, I saw a shape ruffling through my bags. I hoped that it was just a petty thief. I prayed that it was someone from the island, and not someone who had followed us there. Over the past few years, Lockwood and Co. had made many enemies, none of which would be afraid to follow us across the waters to an island nation. The next few moments were a blur. I must have tripped or knocked my rapier against something. Either way, the intruder noticed that I was out of bed. He ran towards me as I swung my rapier. There was a clashing of swords. A brief struggle. I felt my blade slice against skin, as I slashed it towards my attacker. Suddenly, he thrust me backwards, onto the bed, and slipped out of the open window and down the flower terraces.
In front of me, outside the window, I saw a faint glow. It's light steadily grew brighter as it drew near my window. All at once, it smashed through the panes, shattering on my floor. I planted my feet and tightened my grip on my rapier. A ghost bomb. No, it was not as I had hoped; it was no burglar. Instead, it was exactly what I had feared: We had been tracked. Although, we were on holiday, I had brought a few of my supplies with me. Those being two bags of salt, and one canister of iron filings. The figure was that of a young boy. He smiled eerily, before forcing himself towards me. I swung. My rapier passed through his upper chest. He floated back before attempting again. Maintaining a defensive position, I shuffled over to my work backpack. Inside were the supplies as well as the Skull. Unfortunately, the stopper that was built into the silver glass had been shut closed. The Skull's help would've been greatly useful. Clutching the bag in my hand, I advanced towards the ghost's Source, which, as I later learned, was a small pocket watch. I scattered the salt before collapsing against the bedpost. I panted, fighting to catch my breath. It was then that I heard a knock at my door.
I briskly walked over, sword still in hand. A voice spoke, muffled by the door. "Are you okay? Lucy? Open this door now." Lockwood. It was Lockwood. I swung the door back. Thankfully, my appearance was not too rough. I wore an oversized t-shirt and some tight cotton shorts. Lockwood stood there in the dim hallway light. He wore his typical dark pajamas. His feet were bare. I could tell that he had wasted no time in arriving to my room. His eyes flicked down to the sword in my hand, and, at the same time, we both noticed a line of blood running down my shirtsleeve from my upper arm. I shifted, attempting to conceal the bloodstream from him, but Lockwood pushed past me into the room and looked around. In a matter of seconds, he looked back at me standing there, and, slipping his hand around my waist, he turned me to him. "What happened? Just now?" he questioned. There was no humor in his eyes.
I struggled out a response. "Someone broke in." Lockwood straightened his back, and without waiting for more details, he started to speak.
"You're hurt. Come with me." He began ushering me towards the door.
"What?" I questioned. "Where are you taking me?"
"My room. I don't think that they'll return, but I'm not taking chances and leaving you in here alone." We walked down the quiet hallway. Lockwood's room wasn't far from mine. It wasn't long before he had me seated on the edge of his bed. I waited as he shut the door, shot the bolt, and turned on a lamp.
An unknown time later, Lockwood had dressed my wound, despite my annoyance, and we were both sitting on his bed, eating crisps while watching the tele.
"So, you said you woke up to him in your room?" Lockwood asked.
"Yeah, he was just there.I guess the Skull would've alerted me, except his stopper was closed. I very rarely close it..."
Lockwood was thoughtful. "This is exactly what happened when Winkman and the black marketeers came after the skull jar. Two differences though."
"Which are...?"
"One, they didn't take the jar, so it's really just the same scenario," Lockwood said. I nodded. "Two, you're on my team again, which I'm very thankful for." He smiled, and I couldn't help feeling a little flushed. When I had last been broken into was during my few months as a freelance operative. They were difficult but had been inspired by an overwhelming fear that my presence in the company was endangering Lockwood's lifespan, so I left.
"Me too...me too. Lockwood –"
"Yes?"
"The ghost bomb."
"Yes. That surprises me. It was an unnecessary touch. They had already escaped. I'm not sure why it was used." His hand was on his chin, and I could tell that he was deep in thought. I cleaned up our late-night snack. Then, I resumed my position on the end of the bed, unsure what to do next. Suddenly, Lockwood became still and quiet. "Er, if you are uncomfortable with this, uh, arrangement, I can sleep on the floor." He looked at me, dark eyes still showing concern, with an underlying hint of anger. I knew that he was not going to let the attack go easily.
"No," I said, smiling. "I hadn't thought about that at all. And it's alright. It's your room, anyway. Plus, we both need a good night's rest. I don't mind." I walked over to the bed and drew the covers back.
Lockwood grinned. "Great. I didn't think you would. Let me know if at any point you feel uncomfortable, okay?" I nodded. He slid into bed next to me.
For a while, we lay there in his bed, discussing the night's events. There wasn't much to say, so Lockwood switched the conversation over to the remainder of our holiday. I couldn't help feeling excited. I knew that he had planned a brilliant trip. After Lockwood had clicked off his lamp, I rested my head on his chest, and he placed an arm around me. I was slightly shaken up, and the intruder's appearance stunned us both since it was our first night on the island. After that, I scarcely recall the conversation. I remember looking at the clock. It was 1:57 when I finally settled down against Lockwood, closing my eyes, and willing sleep to come.