Hey Guys! Chapter 2 here! Sorry it took a little longer than anticipated, work and uni have hit! Ha ha! Hopefully I'll be able to update soon!

I'd love to hear your thoughts so far!

Strolling through the middle of the old northern town, Myka allowed herself to marvel at how beautiful the place was.
Cobbled streets and old pubs lined her route. One in particular had caught her interest.
It had been one of her easiest finds for her. She had been strolling past the Ye Old Cross inn when a sign caught her eye, Cursed Bottles. Scoffing a moment, she paused.
Moving closer to read, a hand took her wrist, "Don't get to close pet."
Turning to the elderly lady, Myka frowned, "Why?"
"Wey, you divvint want to end up like those poor lads." Shaking her head, she tutted, "Shame that."
"Do you know what happened here?"
Nodding sadly, she gestured to the bottles, "They weren't local lads. They didn't know any better; came to touch the bottles."
Myka noticed one of the panes was covered by wood, "They broke the window?"
"Yep, then they reached in and…" She shrugged, "Dropped dead."
Casting her eyes once more over the dusty bottles, Myka noticed some of the dust had been disturbed.
Checking the area for CCTV, she mentally made note of the building's exterior, before walking inside to study more.

In her cell Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. It was as if she was being pricked by a thousand needles all at once.
She had felt minor pangs for the past few months, but nothing to this extent.
Nausea grew in her stomach, as the entire room seemed to tilt slightly.
She had felt imbalances before; but never on this scale.
Tightening her throat to stop herself vomiting, she closed her eyes; trying to reach out to the source of the disturbance. Searching for the disturbance was akin to reaching out into a pitch black room, unable to see things clearly at all; only symbols and shadows of reality.
Leaving the cell, she allowed herself to expand her mind.

Helena was sat opposite a young boy who was holding his head in his hands. Bandages wrapped tightly around his wrists, he was broken. Weeping, he shook his head, "I don't even know why I tried…" His voice cracked, "I'm happy! I've just got a scholarship, my girlfriend is amazing, and my parents are super supportive!"
Passing him a tissue, Helena inquired, "Is there nothing troubling you? Can you remember what you were thinking just before?"
Shaking his head, he blew his nose, "No, everything's actually going really well right now. I just remember feeling suddenly worthless, like I had nothing, and everyone hated me."
The Agent nodded, "Alright Ryan, that'll be all for now. I'll speak to you again soon. Thank you."
Nodding, he stood, pausing at the door he asked carefully, "I'm not in trouble for anything am I?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Thanks." Shoulders lowering he left.
Glancing across her notes, Helena worried the end of her pen as she wracked her brain, "Three students, good grades, scholarships, popular; generally happy." Flicking through the files, she sighed, "No history of depression, or domestic issues." Gripping her hair, she knew there was something she wasn't seeing. The files all seemed to say the same thing, these were happy kids. Tilting her head, she noticed they all had a character reference from the same teacher, "Coach Jones. Looks like you're my next port of call."

All she could get back was white noise. Massive amounts of energy coming from an unknown point were blanketing the entire world. Wincing as the sheer amount sent agonising pains lancing through her skull. Straining, she looked for a flame in the static.
She had always been able to sense Freya, it was like seeing her from afar; but she'd always kept her distance.
Searching with her mind, she drove through the static, desperate to catch sight of the normally roaring blaze that was the other guardian.
What she found was barely the size of a match-flame.
The static washed easily about the tiny fire. She couldn't even reach it, the interference thickened causing a violent reaction when it came into contact with Elizabeth.
Thrown out of her own mind with a deep gulp of air, Elizabeth frowned heavily.
Lying back on her bunk, she couldn't help but replay the conversation with Helena and Myka in her head.
The inventor had looked so scared. Her voice was broken and she looked exhausted.
There had been desperation in the voices of the two strongest women she knew.
Her chest ached for a moment as the image of hurt and disappointment in Helena's eyes flashed in her mind.
Myka's plea replayed over and over.
Clamping her hands over her ears, she shook her head as if trying to rid herself of flies.
Her stomach turned violently as she felt the stone walls she had built crash down on top of her.
Gritting her teeth, she reached out again, the flame was even smaller. But instead of burning red, the flame had a black heart.
"No. Keep it in..." Thoughts and emotions battered into her one by one, until she felt like a small boat in a huge ocean storm.
Vision blurring, the world's balance tipped violently again; she was almost grateful when the sheer force of the imbalance caused her to pass out.

Walking into the small police station, Myka flashed her badge, "Agent Bering, Secret Service, I'm here about the two men who died outside of the Ye Old Cross Inn."
Shrugging, the grey haired police officer nodded, "PC Williams, why do the secret service want in on this like?"
Opening the file under her arm, Myka replied smoothly, "One of the men, Mr Ronald Greenberg, was an American National. It's just procedure to look into the investigation."
"Oh." He nodded, "Fair enough, come in. The Sarge is out at the mo, she shouldn't be back in a bit though." Gesturing to a row of seats he asked, "Can I get you a cuppa? I just put the kettle on."
"Thank you, coffee would be fantastic."
"No bother hin." Disappearing into a small kitchenette, he called, "So are you over here for long pet?"
Flicking through her papers, she smiled, "Hopefully not too long; I've got a mountain of work back at home."
Emerging with two mugs, he handed over hers, "Aye, paper work is a nightmare. We've got a boatload after those two students were found."
Sighing as she took a sip of the coffee, she hummed, "I can imagine. Being a small town I doubt you see many things like that."
Shrugging, he sighed, "Not usually, but at the minute it's a bit chaotic. A group of students are in the town studying the castle and that. Since then it's like the whole place has gone mental."
Frowning, the agent asked, "Has there been any other incidents?"
He nodded, cradling the mug on his stomach, "Aye, it's where the sarge and the lads are. Young lassie was found in the stream near the castle this morning." He shook his head, "Bloody shame. I divin't know what's going on at the minute. Whole place is going to hell."
Leaning back, she nodded, "Sounds it." Myka almost cursed, she was so sure it was the bottles, "Do you mind if I have a look at the files from the inn deaths?"
Offering her a chocolate biscuit, he asked, "Do you mind waiting till the Sarge gets back? Just so she can sort the paperwork and stuff with you."
"No problem."

Rubbing his eyes, Pete sighed as he logged the artefact in. Placing it on the temporary shelving- to await Leena's return to decide where they should go. He felt dead on his feet, ever since Freya's deterioration the strain on the team had been almost too much to bear.
Shuddering, he supposed it was better than the alternative.

Pete was woken suddenly as a vibe hit him like a punch to the gut. Wincing, he stumbled out of bed, just as his bedroom door was blown in with a ball of flame.
Yanking his burning t-shirt off, he rushed into the flaming corridor. Banging on Leena's door, he ran down the corridor roaring out for the team.

Pulling himself out of the memory he turned back to his paperwork. They'd got lucky that night, Freya had managed to get herself downstairs before she lost control.
The B&B had been a wreck.
That was when the fire guardian had asked them to lock her up. It was eerie watching the regents taking her away. Head lowered and bedraggled it didn't look a damned thing like the guardian who had joined their team eleven years previously.
Stretching, he groaned as his tired limbs popped and cracked, "Damn, I'm getting too old for this." Cracking his neck, he smirked, "Don't know how you did it as long as you did old man!" Closing his eyes he could almost hear his mentor's grumbles. What he wouldn't give to still have Artie, the dude would be in his element!
Nibbling on a cookie, he rested his elbows on the desk, despairing at the sheer amount of paperwork, "Two more then bed."

Knocking on the PE office door, Helena heard the gruff call of, "Come."
Stepping neatly inside, she pulled her badge, "Coach Jones? Agent Wells, I need to ask you a few questions."
Standing, the bear of a man shook his head, "It'll have to wait- I've got a traumatised team to deal with."
Blocking his exit, she cast him a stern glance, "It'll only take a few minutes. I'm investigating the deaths of three boys, and the attempted suicide of another. I am lead to believe they were all on the school football team?"
Squaring his jaw, the man growled, "Yeah, they were, now I need to go help put back together the rest of the team. If you'll excuse me."
Shoving past her, he stormed up the corridor.
Gritting her teeth in frustration, she strode up behind him, "Coach Jones, I really do need to speak with you about these students."
"Then it looks like you're coming to training then."
"It would seem that way."

Williams was startled from his paper, when his radio crackled into life, "John, we're coming back in. Put the kettle on; it's been a hellish one."
Folding up the newspaper, he grabbed his radio, "Sure thing Sarge, see you in a bit."
Five minutes later four exhausted looking PCs, led by a tired sergeant shuffled into the station.
When Williams greeted her with a mug of tea, Myka thought the sarge was about to kiss him, "You have no idea how much I need this."
Mud and something redder was visible up the legs of their trousers. Jumping as he remembered about Myka, he gestured to her, "Um, Sarge, this is Agent Bering from the US."
Putting down her tea, the sergeant instantly seemed to brush off any exhaustion and fall into an easy professional persona, "Agent Bering, Sergeant Emma Gray."
"Pleasure to meet you, I'm here about the two men who died outside the Ye Old Cross."
Gesturing to a door at the other side of the station, she asked, "Shall we talk in my office?"

Closing the door behind her, Gray sank into her desk chair, "I'm afraid you've caught us at a rather hectic time Agent Bering, My officers and I have just returned from another scene." She shook her head, "It's a homicide that much is certain." Pinching the bridge of her nose, she asked, "May I be frank with you?"
"Please do." Myka sat forwards, "You seem to suggest something larger at play."
"I would appreciate it if you would inform me of what interest the American Secret Service has in a small North-East town?"
Handing over her file, she replied easily, "One of the men who died in the main street was an American. I have been sent to aid your investigations."
Satisfied, Gray nodded, "I'm sorry if I seemed sharp. It's normally more Hot Fuzz than CSI around here. This is a small community, these incidents have hit the residents like a ton of bricks."
"I can imagine." Leaning back in her chair, Myka asked, "Do you think the incidents are related?"
Returning to her tea, the sergeant shook her head, "Almost certainly not. The two students found outside the Old Cross showed no obvious cause of death. The girl we found today… Well, let's just say the cause of death was violent."

Crashing into her bed, Myka flicked open the files she'd spread out on the duvet.
Chewing her lip, she flipped open her Farnsworth and called Helena.

Scowling at the substandard tea in her hand, Helena breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the Farnsworth and saw her wife's face.
"Hello darling. How is life in the frozen North?"
Myka's hair was tousled and she smiled sleepily, "Cold, and I can't understand half the things the locals say; they seem really friendly though. How's things at your end?"
"Bloody murder." She rubbed her eyes, "I'm stuck trying to interview a stubborn ape-like Welshman, who is more concerned about football training than the fact that children are killing themselves." Pausing, she took a breath, "It's not great."
Wanting to do nothing more than to reach out and touch her wife, Myka's expression, "Hel, I wish there was something I could do."
Closing her eyes she shrugged and chuckled, "You could always come join me!"
"I wish." Flicking through her files, she blew a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, "It's a weird one; I'm thinking there's two different artefacts in play."
Chewing the tip of her pen, the inventor tipped her head, "Oh? How so?"
Holding up a photo, she gestured to the two dead students lying in the street, "In this case there was no obvious cause of death. Two otherwise healthy students just dropped dead after touching the supposedly 'cursed bottles'."
Curling her lip, the inventor leant closer to the screen, still in denial about the fact that maybe she should take Myka's advice and bloody well get glasses, "Seems pretty cut and dry. Have you tested the bottles?"
"Not yet." Her wife scowled, "The Landlady, and the locals in general are quite adamant about them staying exactly where they are. I'm thinking that I may have to get a warrant to seize them." She ran a hand through her curls and gave a frustrated sigh, "But that would cause such a shit storm…" Groaning, she shook her head, "May have to be a drop and swap job; only issue is that they're sealed between two windows."
Chuckling, Helena took a sip of her tea, "Certainly sounds like a challenge darling. I can't say I envy you." Glancing up, she saw lights go on in the PE office, "I really must dash, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you."
"Love you too, stay safe."
"You too."

"Love you Babe."
Lizzie grinned, closing her eyes and blushing furiously, she muttered, "Love you too." Before hanging up. Puffing up her cheeks and blowing out the air, she couldn't stop grinning like a complete idiot.
"What are you smiling at?"
All pleasant thoughts seemed to vanish and a scowl flashed across the teenager's face at the sound of the young voice, "Nothing. Get out of my room; you know you're not allowed in here." Standing, she shoved her younger sister back, "Get lost." Slamming the door, she threw herself onto her bed with a frustrated growl, the ant was doing her head in. She hadn't thought it would be possible to find her sister any more annoying; turns out she'd been wrong!
Sitting on the floor of the landing, Charlie tilted her head, she didn't understand why her sister didn't like her. She always tried her best, she drew her pictures and was always nice; even when Lizzie was mean.
Bottom lip wobbling, she sighed heavily.
"What's wrong baby?"
Looking up to see Uncle Pete coming up the stairs, she held her arms up.
Sweeping the six year old up into his arms, the exhausted warehouse agent rocked her gently, "Has Lizzie been mean to you again?"
Sniffing, she shook her head, "No, I was annoying her."
Sighing, he took her to her room, "Oh well, I'll have a word with her. You ready for bed?"
Nodding, she wriggled in his arms, "Yup!"
"You sure? Teeth brushed?"
She flashed him the biggest toothy smile she could, "Yup!"
Frowing, he paused, "I'm not sure, those teeth look like they've been eating candy."
"Nooooo!" Shaking her head as she smiled even wider, she cried, "They're brushed Uncle Pete!"
Pretending to consider a moment, he shrugged, "Oh okay then! Bed time monster!"
As he carried her up the corridor towards her room, she bent her fingers like claws and gave a growl of, "RAR!"

Once Charlie was tucked in, Pete turned to the unenviable task of talking to her sister.
Knocking on the teenager's door, Pete called, "Lizzie, we need to talk."
"No we don't." She yelled over the sound of her music.
With a growling sigh, he felt like he should have brought his stab vest, "I'm coming in."
"URGH!" She slapped her duvet and snarled, "Seriously! Can't I have a little bit of privacy in this house?! I'm Sixteen!"
Oh damn he thought. "You should apologise to your sister, she was really upset earlier."
Shrugging, she returned to her magazine, "Not my problem. She shouldn't come in here."
Rolling his eyes, the agent knew this was a losing fight, "She's your little sister Lizzie, she thinks the world of you; it wouldn't really be such a hard thing to do to be nicer to her."
"I'll be nicer when she isn't so annoying."
"Lizzie." He scolded, "Your mother's are worried, you've made Charlie cry every day this week."
Casting a sullen look, she forced a grin, "Goody, a new high score."
Taken aback with horror, Pete shook his head, "I don't know what the hell has happened, but you're not the same Elizabeth we've known for years."
"It's called growing up Pete."
Hurt, he sighed, "Since when has it been Pete?"
"Since I decided it. I'm too old to call people 'uncle' or 'aunty'."
Squaring his stance, he couldn't help but snap, "Is that why you're calling your Mum Helena? It's hurtful Lizzie, you really need to think about things before you say them."
Throwing her head back with a loud, "Ugh." She gave him a dead look, "I'm a straight A student Pete, I know what I say. Helena's a big girl; she can handle it."
Gritting his teeth, he had to force himself not to say something he'd regret, "Just think about it alright. Your family loves you, and we're worried, okay? Goodnight."
Slumping against the hallway wall, he shuffled towards the spare room in Helena and Myka's home.
Collapsing into the memory foam mattress he grumbled until sleep overcame him.

Thoughts?