A/N: I'M FEELING SO FRAZZLED BECAUSE I CAN FEEL WRITER'S BLOCK STARTING TO SEEP IN. Nununununu I'm doing as best as I can to continue writing.
10
"You do know you directly disobeyed my orders."
"Yes."
"I had told you to get rid of that object."
"Yes."
"And yet you still kept it, and even hid it from me."
I hesitated. "Yes."
Barnes slammed his fist on the table. "So you knew it was a Type Three the whole time, and you never told DEPRAC?"
I fought back tears, looking him in the eye for the first time during the interrogation. "No! We didn't know it was a Type Three, but something still compelled us to keep it. We had no clue-" I stopped short. Barnes was rubbing his temples, as though I was a child and he was exasperated by my whining.
"You do understand how bad this looks, don't you?" he asked, a dangerous undertone in his voice. "A small yet well-known agency, hiding a Type Three from the public? And what's worse, you're involved with it, and you're the only person it wants to speak to!"
"You don't know that." My voice shook.
"Then why isn't it speaking to any other of my employees? The only thing it does is give me an occasional gruesome face. I nearly spilled my coffee all over myself due to its horrendous expressions!"
"I don't know why it does that!" I cried. "Why aren't you wondering about the anonymous tipper? He was digging through our garbage!"
"You leave the lid off your garbage can! He must've seen it yesterday night and instantly spotted that foul Visitor at the top of the rubbish, its plasm glowing green like Christmas lights!"
I put my face in my hands.
I'd been in the same interrogation room for at least ninety minutes. It had felt like days. The blank, stark-white walls made me feel like I was in an asylum. The one-way glass glinted sinisterly ahead, and I couldn't get rid of the unwelcome feeling that there was someone watching me from behind it. A single voice recorder sat on the table in front of me, capturing every single word, every cry, every argument. I'd not had a single break, not even to drink water or eat, and now my throat was parched and my stomach growling.
Someone had told me that Lockwood and George were in the headquarters as well, but they'd not been allowed inside the same room I was in. Who knew, they might even be behind the one-way glass. The very thought gave me comfort- even if they weren't really with me, they'd still be watching.
But I was still very worried.
What if nobody'd found the Skull at all?
What if I had left the note and deposited the Skull at DEPRAC, setting up a perfect scene for the police?
I had been possessed by the ghost from the previous night till the current morning. I could've done anything under the Visitor's influence in such a long period of time.
I rubbed my face, staring at my scuffed shoes. "How long are you going to keep me here? There's nothing I can't tell you which you already know."
"We just need evidence. We need to know if the ghost is really a Type Three or not. Things are so screwy that Penelope Fittes phoned in, and the press isn't letting us go!"
My pulse rate spiked. "What did you tell Ms. Fittes?" I asked hurriedly.
"Nothing much. Just that Lockwood and Co. has violated laws- disobeying a police officer, keeping dangerous ghosts contained in domestic areas, and hiding from the government!"
"You're really exaggerating," I mumbled. I couldn't ignore the wave of relief that washed over me- Penelope didn't know that we, in fact, had the Visitor in our possession all along.
That didn't mean it would get any easier, though. We had broken laws- I was just glad that Barnes hadn't found-
"We also had a search warrant to inspect your house. A search warrant, headed by Penelope Fittes herself. And guess what we found?" the inspector glared at me. "We retrieved this."
He slammed a book down onto the table, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.
The Confessions of Mary Dulac stared up at me innocently.
I internally cursed Lockwood for not getting rid of it, and despair crashed into me.
"This is from the Black Library of Marissa Fittes," he said in a low, growling voice. "That is strictly off-limits to all ordinary civilians, agents and Fittes workers. Only Penelope Fittes is allowed entry. This is a very serious federal crime!"
I shut my eyes, knowing that all was lost. Lockwood & Co. would be shut down. We'd lose our jobs, and our house, and I'd be on the streets- that is, if we weren't imprisoned for the rest of our lives.
"Am I going to jail?" I whispered.
"That's very likely, Ms. Carlyle. But if you tell me exactly how you got into this mess, you just might be pardoned."
The following lines I said would've given me a prize for being the best liar.
"On- on the night of the Fittes party, Penelope Fittes had gone into the library. I don't know how- but before she shut the door, a book fell off the shelf and was wedged in between the door and the frame. I picked it up to see what it was, and it turned out to be 'the Confessions'. I thought it might help us with the Bickerstaff case- and I didn't really think about it too hard- so I took it with me. We didn't go in there, I swear!" I said anxiously.
I didn't say anything about my colleagues. I wasn't going to direct any of the blame to Lockwood and George- then they'd be in danger, and they'd really have no excuse. Hopefully, Barnes would believe me, and the consequences wouldn't be so harsh.
It was a chance, but a very, very slim one.
He sighed. "Ms. Carlyle, even if you are telling the truth- which I'm sure you're not- you should have returned the book to Ms. Fittes. You're going to have to be tried in court, unless Miss Fittes grants you full pardon-"
"-And that is exactly what I'm going to do, Mr. Barnes."
I whipped around to see Penelope Fittes in the doorway, an expression of sheer fury on her face.
"This is not Ms. Carlyle's fault. It is most probably her associates' doing, and she is covering up for them. I grant them freedom- after all, nothing important was stolen from my library, and I have arranged a special... contract with their agency. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to speak to her. Alone."
Montague Barnes' moustache twitched with irritation. "Of course, Ms. Fittes." he said as she sat in a chair opposite me. He walked out of the room, banging the door as he went. The noise reverberated around the room, filling the tense and worrisome silence between us. Neither of us said a word for a long time, and I was beginning to feel uneasy under her intense gaze.
Then she spoke.
"I'm granting you freedom, Ms. Carlyle, because you have a job to finish. You need to find the person who stole the Skull."
I blinked and looked up at her in surprise. "You don't think we took it?"
"Nobody told me anything about this incident- nobody needs to. The thief has struck. He most probably saw me visiting your house last night, and he would've planted the Visitor here to frame you. I think these nightmares are warning me. Someone is trying to go against me for some reason!"
"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"Because," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "There are too many conspiracies rising. The number of ghosts are doubling. Something is wrong with the iron supplies. Haven't you heard? It's a major crisis!"
"Yes," I recalled that it was something George'd been talking to Lockwood about.
"They're trying to overthrow me. This Skull is just the beginning. It's a Type Three, and this thief knows that. He wants to set it loose. And when that happens, with all our defenses gone, it'll wreak havoc on the streets. We won't be able to contain it. All our agencies might fall. But I'm not going to allow that."
She leaned in closer. "You're going to find the criminal, Lucy Carlyle. Give me your word."
I swallowed. "I- I promise."
"Good." she stood up and gave me one last withering look. "And, Ms. Carlyle? Do not steal from my library again. I'm pardoning you now because you needed 'the Confessions' for the Bickerstaff case, and it wasn't a very important document; but I will not be so easy on your agency next time."
With that, she walked out of the room.
As soon as she did, Lockwood and George exploded in.
"Lucy!" Lockwood exclaimed. The two of them had made no effort to wash up- they still looked as ragged as they had when I'd seen them two hours ago.
I didn't speak. I knew that if I would, then I'd explode with all my mixed emotions and end up a blabbering mess. So instead, I weakly walked over and enveloped them in a bone-crushing hug. My eyes filled with tears of relief.
Lockwood and George were here.
So everything would be OK.
"We've been standing outside in the waiting room since forever," Lockwood said. "We had no idea of time. They didn't let us see you at all! But then Barnes came out, saying that Penelope Fittes was talking to you, so it was alright for us to come in as well."
"What did ask you?" asked George. "Lord, it must have been terrible! I can't imagine being thrown into a room like this," he eyed it distastefully.
"Barnes questioned me mostly about the Skull, and why we didn't chuck it out, and why we didn't tell anyone about it," I said, and my voice dropped to a whisper. "They found The Confessions, Lockwood. They took it from our library."
He jerked upwards with a worried expression on his face, giving a wild curse. "What! I should've hidden it better. It was right in the library, in plain sight. What did he say?"
"He said we were going to be tried, but Penelope Fittes came in and gave us full pardon."
George gave a low whistle. "Full pardon? For us? When we stole a book from her library?"
"Yeah," I said. "She's desperate. She really wants us to find that thief."
"We'd better do it before she changes her mind, then," Lockwood said.
"What?" I asked. "But we were the ones who stole the Skull!"
"But we weren't the ones who handed it in to DEPRAC," George pointed out.
My stomach twisted into a knot, making me all the more conscious of an accusing voice in my head: I did it! I did it!
"Exactly," Lockwood said. "I think Ms. Fittes is right. Someone is truly after her. And we're going to find out whom, or else our agency's in shambles."
I nodded, feeling very sick. I desperately wanted to end the conversation.
My wish was fulfilled when Barnes walked back into the room.
"I need to talk to Ms. Carlyle," he said gruffly, thoroughly disgruntled by the fact we weren't going to jail.
"You've talked to her long enough- whatever you want to say to her, you can say in front of us as well. There's no big secret," Lockwood said, and I silently thanked him.
Barnes grimaced, giving him a dirty look, but spoke to the three of us nonetheless. "I've no more questions for you today," he said, "but we need to try out one experiment."
My heart jumped. "What?"
He looked at me. "We want to record a conversation between you and the Skull."
The DEPRAC headquarters is, in many ways, a fearsome place for fugitives. With its plain, whitewashed walls, and its clear marble floor, it makes you wonder if the place is really a police station or a mental asylum. There are about thirty different rooms, many of which are needed for interrogation, and the rest are offices or laboratories. I was lead to a room, accompanied by Lockwood, George and three other employees. This one was different- instead of stark-white walls and flooring, the paint was a dark grey, and the floor was granite. As I stepped through the door, I caught a strong whiff of lavender, and noticed that there were bunches of them lined all around the corners of the room. I looked to the center, and my eyes fell upon a table and two chairs- all completely made out of iron. And on top of the table was the Skull.
I suddenly began to dread the conversation that was going to ensue.
I sat down on one of the chairs, trepidation building up in my veins. Barnes sat opposite me, with a small voice recorder in his hand. He switched it on, and I knew that now, every word I spoke for the next few minutes, every uneasy remark, every sigh, every sob, would be captured and could be replayed. Again. And again. And again. And this way, they might have something to hold against me.
I did everything I could to control my emotions, and spoke as robotically as I could.
"Type Three," I said.
As if summoned, a sudden hissing voice filled my ears. "They've found out." the voice was horror-struck. Sad, almost.
I ignored the comment, continuing, trying to appear as though it hadn't said anything. "Skull, speak to me."
"All this lavender... All this iron... It's killing me. Do you have any idea what's happening to my plasm?"
"Uh..."
"Ms. Carlyle," Barnes quipped, "you have to tell us what the Visitor is saying."
"It says that there's too much lavender and iron for it to bear."
"Lucy," the voice was raspy, urgent. "Find a way to cross."
"What?" I asked. Then, quickly, to Barnes: "He needs you to remove all this ghost-proof stuff."
"Death's in life. Life has to be in death. Maintain the balance..."
"I'm not getting you," I said.
"Ms. Carlyle, what did it say?"
"Don't trust anyone other than the ones in your agency."
"Why?"
"Miss Carlyle!"
"Lucy..." it whispered. "I'm Ernest."
And then the plasm dispersed, clouding around the brim of the silver-glass jar.
"Miss Carlyle," Barnes said in irritation, "What did it say?"
"It said that the silver stocks were going down fast," I rushed my words. I wanted to get out of this place as quickly as I could. "And it said it would be happy when we'd run out. It finished off saying that it wasn't going to speak to me with all this iron and lavender around it."
"Did it have to tell us something we already know?" he grumbled, his moustache rippling. "Alright, Ms. Carlyle. I think we're done for now- but I may ask you to come back to the station once we find something out. Till then, this Skull remains with us."
"But-!"
"This is a highly dangerous Source. We can't let you fool around with it in that place of yours you call an agency headquarters. We will keep it until we decide what to do."
I gave up on trying to reason with him. I stood up and walked out of the room to where Lockwood and George were waiting. Thankfully, they didn't ask what had gone on inside there- they knew better than to press me for details. So instead, we walked outside of the dimly lit police station to face the harsh, blinding sunlight and fresh air after what seemed like forever.
But one fact still troubled me.
Lucy... Trust the Type Three.
Sybil is right. Listen to her, and to Ernest.
Lucy... I'm Ernest.
I knew that all of this was chained together, and was all a link, a part of a plan that was much greater.
The Finality.
But what was it?
"We'd better go home," Lockwood said. "The past two days' events has severely drained us all."
I nodded wordlessly, and we started down the street back to Portland Row.
I was still highly worried. Every thing I did or said, every single move, all triggered a chain reaction. It was like pushing a single paper and causing the whole house of cards to fall down. I'd have to be extremely careful.
Starting now.
A/N: Tests have finally come upon me, but I'm faring well with this multitask of writing and studying. I want this story to be really lengthy; I think this fic will last for another two months or even more. So, lots for you guys to read!
I'm too tired to say anything more than this ughhhhhhhhhhh
ligersrcool: Tell me about it. My family notices my injuries more than I do xD
AnonymousAnon: Haha, thanks- sometimes it's just the perfectionist side of me speaking; a nagging voice at the back of my head saying 'you did this wrong!'. And yes, you're spot on there! More suspicious and fear-inducing acts are coming up in Part 3... and there's going to be a dreadful shocker in Part 4 or 5. Or rather, two of them. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill of Lockwood. You should be more worried for Lucy and George... and a few other minor characters in this plot... mwahahaha. Thanks for the lovely review!
montague: *Happy dance* Thank you! I'm so happy you like my writing. I try to be as accurate as possible when it comes to character development/speech/actions. :) And 'Sybil' means 'prophetess' which I thought was suitable. So it was a nice coincidence when I found the name- it clashed with my character description and with one of my favorite books!
ThatBookWormOverThere: Sorry about the cliffhangs :( hehe well at least I didn't end this one with one. Hope you continue to enjoy! :D
Oh, yeah, everyone; this is the last chapter of 'Blackouts and Visions'!
So I'm giving you one more thing to ponder on; Part 3's name is Enigma (look up the meaning!) I might change it along the way; every name I come up with just isn't right.
Hope you liked it!
-Artemis
