A/N: Okay, guys. Big, big question here! It could become a major part of the story, depending upon the response.

Should I make Locklyle/Lucewood happen in this fiction... Or not?

What would you prefer? I'm fine with it either way, but if I want you all to like this story, then I want it to go with your preferences. Just tell me as straight as you can!

Another thing to say, though. The following update will be next Saturday only, which is nine days from now. Sorry I didn't keep up with the weekly update thing! I just have a lot of projects due next week, which will cram my schedule if I want to write more chapters for this fic as well. I would have updated this chapter this Saturday, too, but I didn't want you guys to wait for an action shot. :)

Don't forget the reviews, even if they're tiny ones.


Chapter 6 (Part 2)

The three of us spun around, drawing our rapiers. I could feel my heart thump faster as we backed into the iron circle, silently observing the room.

Air whooshed in through the broken window panes and blew harshly across our faces.

Then the howling of the wind stopped suddenly, and everything came to a dead standstill. There was pin-drop silence throughout the whole house.

"See anything, Lockwood?" I felt the need to whisper.

"No ghosts, but there's this one disconcertingly bright death-glow right next to this circle. Quite unnerving, I must say."

"Is the door locked?" George asked.

"Can't tell from here; it's so dark. The only thing I can see other than you both is this annoying blob of white light next to my foot."

"You mean the death-glow?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Well, there's no ghost here yet, so it's fairly safe to go check the lock," I observed. I didn't wait for Lockwood to respond; I strode out of the circle and tried the doorknob. Instead of swinging all the way through, I couldn't twist it more than halfway.

"Locked from outside."

"Well, that's a shocker," muttered George.

"That's the work of the Poltergeist," said Lockwood stiffly. There was an urgent tone in his voice. "Get back into the circle, Luce!"

I obeyed without hesitation. We stood in the center of the room, protected by the iron, slowly turning our heads to scan the scene. "Ms. Audley must have come to know about this ghost from hearing doors slam and things being knocked down," I guessed.

"Don't you mean Syb-" George started.

"Just don't."

We waited, the complete absence of noise slightly unsettling.

Then, behind me, I heard a slow skrrrrttt, like nails being dragged across a blackboard.

I turned and peeked over Lockwood's shoulder to see what was going on.

The wooden box was being dragged over the desk, and was now teetering over its edge.

It fell.

The noise wasn't very loud, but the room had been dead silent, and the environment was so tense that I couldn't help but wince as it hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Have you noticed it's become colder?" George asked in a low voice.

I didn't answer. I was too busy listening to a noise that was audible only to my ears; far off, but steadily drawing closer.

At the same time, the three of us heard a creak.

"What was that?" George asked.

"The Poltergeist," Lockwood breathed. "It's moving across the room."

As if verifying this thought, more creaks sounded, uniformly, as if someone was walking across the weak floorboards laid out ahead of us.

"I think the other ghosts are coming," I whispered.

This was confirmed as I felt a sudden pressure in my ears; ahead of me, a flickering white head rose from the ground, then a neck, torso and legs. A Spectre.

"Where are the rest of them?" George asked.

Right on time, two other Spectres materialized next to the central one.

"Shouldn't have asked," he mumbled.

Lockwood drew his rapier. "Luce, go try find a Source. I don't think it'll be hard tracing any echoes. George and I will fend these off."

I didn't argue with him; this was our best plan. I waited as both of them dashed out of the circle and lunged at the Visitors. I stepped out of the circle and crossed to the back of the room, where the wonky desk stood. I rummaged around in its drawers, but found nothing.

I turned my head to see George lose his rapier; he ducked down to the floor to retrieve it, and a ghost, sensing his panic and uneasiness, swiftly drew close. Lockwood was in no position to help him; he was single-handedly fending two Spectres off. I needed to find the Sources and seal them, and fast.

However, I was dealing with my own problems.

The Poltergeist had suddenly become more violent and vehement. Different items blew around me in a hurricane of energy, making it almost impossible to reach out to the items in the drawers.

My fingers finally found a handle, and curled around it- I wrenched my hand backwards and stumbled back as the contents of the drawer spilled out. Foreign collector coins took flight before being snatched into the tornado around me. Other antiques- chalices, pendants, plastic charms- somehow evaded the whirlwind and danced on the floor, making tinkling noises as they bounced. There was one thing left, though, that was not affected by this strong gust- a small dagger, made completely out of gold, glinting eerily. It looked more like a showpiece than an actual weapon. When I picked it up, I noticed that it was cold- too cold, as though it had been left in the snow. My eyes darted across the room and I located our duffel bag, quite close to George. I sprinted to the other side of the hall, battling against the tempest, fear pulsing through my heart as I saw the Spectre draw maliciously close.

"George!" I yelled, picking up his rapier from the floor, just as he scrambled to his feet, swordless.

He turned in time to see his rapier flying towards him. He caught it by the hilt and thrust it in front of him just in time, stalling the vengeful Spectre just in front of him- a fraction of a second less, and he'd have been ghost-touched.

"Thanks, Lucy!" he yelled over the wind.

The Poltergeist was really cooking up a storm. Wind rushed into my face, making my eyes water. I had to squint as I knelt down to retrieve the duffel bag just as it drew close to being sucked into the cyclone.

I ran back to the far end of the chamber, spotting the knife skittering across the floor. I brought out an iron net just as the mahogany box, which had also been dragged into the tornado, connected with my head.

Pain exploded in my skull as I crashed to the floor, landing on top of the iron net. The box clattered next to me on the raw, exposed wood. Through bleary, tear-filled eyes I could make out the dagger, a few metres away, and determination coursed through my veins again. I got to my knees painfully and crawled over to it, and with one finalized sweep of my hands, brought the net down on it. At once, the windstorm ceased. My hair and coat stopped billowing around me. The pressure in my head decreased, but not completely. One out of six Sources had been sealed.

I craned my neck and was able to make out George and Lockwood, doing miraculously with the Visitors. Lockwood's stamina was certainly a plus here; but I didn't want to wait and see how long they'd hold out.

What could be the Sources?

I looked over at the box, and my heart jumped. Of course!

I took a step towards it just as the pounding in my head magnified once more.

The Changers had arrived.

Green tendrils of ivy began pooling out of the cracks in the walls, and through seams in the loose floorboards. My shock made me stop in my tracks, delaying me by a vital two seconds. They ignored Lockwood and George, and instead came right for me. I lunged at the mahogany chest but was too late; one branch of the plant shot out and grabbed my left leg, causing my to jerk backwards and fall onto the floor with a thud. I swallowed the urge to scream. Why didn't my leg feel numb? Or why wasn't it blue?

This was a Changer. Just because it didn't trail plasm didn't mean it couldn't ghost-touch in its guise.

I felt bile rise in my throat as I recalled something Ms. Audley had said.

The reason you weren't ghost-touched by that Raw-Bones, Lucy, was because a ghost is possessing you. Visitors can't harm each other.

A wave of emotions crashed into me- shock, relief that I wasn't going to die, and horror and dismay at the fact that it was true.

I was being possessed.

By a Visitor.

And, like Marissa Fittes, I could possibly lose control of my mind.

These thoughts evaporated as another arm of ivy snagged my right leg. I kicked and struggled, but to no avail. I tried clawing my way across the floor to the chest; it was useless. My fingernails scraped helplessly against the wood as I was dragged backwards. A third stem snaked towards my left hand and coiled around it tightly, and I knew I couldn't get to the box fast enough. Lockwood and George were finally tiring.

We'd all be doomed.

I hung my head- and out of the corner of my eye saw my rapier, glistening at my belt.

Of course. I was so stupid!

My right arm was free- I drew my sword and with a manic series of slashes, I cut the ivy into bits. The iron hissed and sparked against the Visitor's form. More tendrils came shooting right at me, but I deflected them easily, finally putting all those fancy rapier moves that Lockwood had taught me countless times to use. I darted towards the box and frantically tried to prise it open with shaky hands. The Changer was already reforming, pieces of withering leaves and stems inching closer to each other. I noticed a padlock in the center of the box- without thinking, I swung my rapier on to it. It nicked my wrist as it dove into the keyhole, but I didn't feel the pain or see the blood- and the lock cracked. I yanked it free and opened the chest.

Inside I found three bracelets with matching designs on them. One was red, one was blue, and one purple. I glanced upwards to spot the three Visitors engaging Lockwood and George. These were the Sources for the Spectres.

I grabbed another iron net from the duffel and quickly covered the bracelets, tying the ends of the net together for double the security. The effect was instant. The ghosts gave howls, accompanied with various movements that made them look like they were having seizures, before disappearing into thin air.

I spun around to find that the Changers had switched forms. Instead of slimy green ivy, they had now turned into solid apparitions of people.

I darted past them before they could spot me, and charged for the desk just a few feet ahead. I could hear the air sing behind me, which could only mean that Lockwood and George were fending them off with their rapiers, exhausted as they were. There was only one iron net left in the bag, which I quickly grabbed. I spotted the Sources instantly. They were the two halves of the locket- when I touched them, I found them to be cold. I could also detect echoes in them, but I did not concentrate on them- the last thing I needed now was to be lost in the past. Relieved that this was finally going to end, I bundled them up in the net and secured them with a sigh.

The pressure suddenly vanished, making my ears pop. The clang and hiss of iron against plasm ceased. I listened with my inner ear, but heard only silence.

I rotated on my heel to find Lockwood and George slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. I staggered forward and collapsed on the floor next to them.

"I've never been more preoccupied in my life," George groaned from my right.

"Great... Job... Luce..." Lockwood panted, punctuating every pause with a gasp. I glanced to my left. He looked really worn-out. His coat was burnt from plasm in many areas, and his neatly combed back hair was frazzled and all over his forehead.

"Thanks," I replied, equally out of breath. "Let's get out of here. The Sources are sealed fine."

"I'll vouch for that," George groaned. I stood up. We gathered the chains from the floor, picked up the duffel, and trudged towards the door.

I tried the handle- and to my surprise, it was unlocked.

"Poltergeist must've made a mistake," I said blandly, my words slurred with tiredness.

We walked outside onto the hallway, shedding our tension and fear as we moved ahead. I turned around to give the room one last look.

Its bright red door glared at us ominously, insidiously.

We walked down to the living room and switched on the light. We gladly sat down on the couches.

"That was a nightmare," George mumbled.

I winced.

"I don't know what's worse- that or the Red Room," I muttered.

"Well," Lockwood retorted, "The Red Room carried far more terror. And that Staircase was terrible. So comparatively, this one isn't too bad. The only thing I don't understand is how they became so powerful, and just at 8 o' clock."

I checked my watch. It read 8:30.

"Well," I said, "We're done for the moment, so..."

I suddenly felt extremely dizzy. My head spun like a top. If I had been standing up, I would've fallen. My vision suddenly darkened, and I could hear Lockwood's muffled exclamation. My head lolled and I fell backwards into neverending darkness.

And after so many questions, I gained a little bit of clarity.

In the darkness of my mind, memories resurfaced, and ghosts connected with my own thoughts.

Things were beginning to make sense, more or less.

I was seeing visions.


A/N: Mentally kicking myself because even though I haven't used a cliffhanger, I've come to a climax, and so I feel the chapter endings are too abrupt. :(

I actually had to split this chapter into two parts. The original thing was a clubbed piece of this chapter and the previous one, totaling to 4,800 words. Woah...

And in case you guys were wondering, and to clear this up: Neither the Sources nor the ghosts have vital importance to the storyline. In fact, they're going to be mentioned only in this chapter. Just saying, in case you got misled by all the detail. The actual house, however, is a very important detail which I'll be using again later on.


Answering the reviewss...

Guest: Yayyyy! Glad I made you happy. Hope you enjoyed this one too!

Lola: Hehe, thank you! I think I'm using cliffhangers too much though haha

AnonymousAnon: That will be answered in the next chapter, when Lucy sees her visions. Your other questions, though, are going to remain unanswered till Part 3 (which according to my estimations is about 4 chapters away). Yesss, we've reached a climax now, the question-answerer, the great... thingy. I can understand your frustration with reading cliffhangers. I stopped liking them after about nine months ago *COUGH* Stroud *COUGH* And I'm so happy you like my plot! I have a tendency to overcomplicate things, but I'm glad that this storyline isn't too confusing to understand. :) Thank you for the review!

ALSO, EVERYONE! The last two paragraphs probably gave away what's going to happen within the next 4 chapters. If you're confused, look at the name of Part 2. It's called Blackouts.

Ooh, getting interesting, right? XD

Until next week!

-Artemis