Author's Note
Hullo~ So yes, this chapter is a bit longer than the first haha
But I hope that you liked it enough to follow the story :))
I'm really excited to read the rest of the series and I guess I should take this time in explaining that I haven't read TWS yet huhuhu ((please forgive me. It's my exams tomorrow. Speaking of which.. I should start studying hehe))
Lucy could see a puff of white air in front of her; a cloud of mist curling around her mouth every time she let out a sigh. If that wasn't an indicator of the frigid temperatures outside, she didn't know what was.
Her nose was cold from the early morning chill. Lucy pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck in an attempt to stay warm.
"George better make me a nice piping cup of tea when I get back," She cursed through chattering teeth. In her hand was a package that quote-unquote 'Couldn't wait until the afternoon.'
"Honestly, who sends their operative out at this early?"
As for the contents of the box, Lucy had a pretty good guess at what it was and the thought didn't improve her mood.
"Geez. Lockwood should really put a leash on George's eating habits." Lucy sped up as the familiar 35 Portland Row came into view.
She was ready for another day of filing reports and another night of ghost hunting. But now, all she could think of was her cozy bed in the Agency's attic.
It was only when she saw the hunched figure sitting on their porch steps did all thoughts of sleep leave her mind.
"Excuse me, miss?" Lucy took a tentative step forward, unsure whether or not this was a client. She was sure that this wasn't a friend of either Lockwood's or George; they would've told her she was coming otherwise. But what client would come at 6 in the morning?
"Do you need help?"
The girl had curly brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Beside her a stick night-watchers normally carried around to ward off ghosts. Closer inspection of the girl revealed bags under her eyes and a sniffling suggesting she had just finished crying. Something must've happened during her patrol.
Lucy had a strange feeling of dread settling in her stomach.
The girl shook her head and stood, "Is Anthony home?"
Lucy drew back, as if the words pierced her.
It was rare for anyone to call Lockwood by his given name especially coming from a girl. Could Lockwood and this girl… No. Impossible. This girl was most likely here for business reasons.
George mentioned that Lockwood often asked for help from Night Watchers to run errands for him. Much like how Sherlock Holmes paid young boys to run some errands.
Not that Lucy was jealous or anything.
But once her initial shock wore off, she put on an air of profession around her and gestured towards the house.
"Yes. I'll go get him right now. Don't worry miss, Lockwood & Co. will take your case. But in the meantime, please help yourself to some donuts."
"Lucy this better be a good reason to drag me out of bed to make tea at this ungodly hour." George grumbled.
"Ungodly hour? It's half past seven in the morning! And if I distinctly remember, you were the one who sent me out for some bloody donuts at five a.m." Lucy retorted.
Before George was able to form a proper comeback, Lockwood scolded, "Lucy, George why don't you both sit down and offer some of your donuts to our guest."
The reminder of the girl and new case shut Lucy and George up and they set to work, politely handing out sugar and plates and taking extra caution not to acknowledge each other's presence.
Once all was settled, Lockwood leaned in forward and introduced the mystery girl to his colleagues.
"George, you've met Abigail from before." He gestured towards the girl called Abigail and George gave a curt nod before going back to attacking his donut.
"Abby helped George get some classified information on Screechers from a couple of Fittes' agents." Lockwood whispered to Lucy.
"And Abigail, this is Lucy -our new-ish assistant." Lucy reached over the low coffee table to shake Abigail's hand.
"Nice to meet 'ya," Abigail smiled. But the attempt was half-hearted and immediately returned to another resigned sigh.
"Likewise," Lucy returned her smile with more enthusiasm.
Lucy wondered for a brief second, trying to place Abigail's strange accent; it was a mix of British and something not quite as British…
Lockwood smiled as if reading Lucy's thoughts, "Abby came to England with her mother and brother a few years a go. She's from America and it still seems as though her accent hasn't left her."
Abby let out a toothy grin and for a moment Lucy could almost see a flicker of amusement and mischief in her eyes. "Oh you should see how I've covered up my slang, Tony. It's much easier to slip into places without anyone getting suspicious."
Lockwood gagged at the mention of his first name. His tea was in a dangerous position of spilling in the process. He caught himself before shooting her a pained smile. From behind his glasses, Lucy could see George grin slyly.
"That's wonderful, Abby. But I'd appreciate it if you'd just call me Anthony."
Abby let out a hearty laugh, "Oh come now, Tony. Don't be such a killjoy." Abby laughed harder and Lucy soon found it hard not to laugh along with her.
The air around the living room was light as more pleasantries were exchanged. Lucy learned that Abby was only a year older; signed up with the night watch to support her and her brother; and that she was an excellent pickpocket.
Abby's strange accent didn't stop her from making jokes with Lockwood and Lucy. And –to Lucy's surprise – even George seemed not to mind.
Abby seemed like a trustworthy character; just the type to would keep a secret and beat up the first person who found out. Lucy decided immediately that she liked her. Abby was energetic but Lucy could tell that her energy was forced and her carelessness ill concealed.
Lockwood noticed this too and decided not to prolong her agony. The carefree atmosphere faded, suddenly replaced with a somber air.
"Why did you come, Abby?"
Abigail took a deep breath. Her dark eyes seemed to shine like she was trying hard not to cry. Lucy sat up straighter, ready to pounce into action. Even George put down his third (or fourth) donut, looking more alert.
"Something bad's happened to Tom and Jones,"
Lockwood nodded, encouraging her to go on. And Abby fiddled with her teacup trying to find the right words to begin.
She recounted the story of a few nights ago when her brother Jones asked if he could to help Abby out with her Night Watch shift. Some boys exchanged stories about the ghosts they've seen and Jones –having never been out late –was curious as to what ghosts looked like.
Abby bluntly refused and the siblings got into a fight. Abby was clueless as to why Jones was suddenly so interested in ghosts. Even Tom –who could normally talk some sense back into the siblings –couldn't figure it out.
Last night, the older sister made sure Jones was asleep before she and Tom headed out to their assigned Night Watch post. What they didn't know was that Jones snuck out and followed them.
As the night grew, Abby patrolled the perimeter while Tom stood guard by the entrance. She noticed a little brunette boy trying to climb up the second story window. She called out to the boy and realized it was Jones.
Before she could get him down, he tripped and tumbled into the building.
She retold how frightened she was and how she came running up to Tom. She recalled the worried expression on Tom's face and the final smile he flashed before he went in on his own.
Ten minutes passed, and soon twenty but there was no sign of either of them. Just as she was about to enter the building herself, she heard a blood chilling scream.
She tried banging on the door but it seemed shut from inside and every other window and entrance was sealed.
It was finally dawn when she decided to go to Lockwood & Co. and ask for help.
