LOCKWOOD & CO.: THE HOLLOW BOY

11: Playing it Dangerous

I couldn't breath very well. That's probably because I was gagged, and whoever had done it probably wanted me to suffocate slowly, too, so the cloth tightened around my face jammed my mouth and half-covered my nose, too. And the ropes binding my hands and feet were so tight they cut into my skin and dug into my boots.

This was very uncomfortable.

When I first opened my eyes, all I could see was Lockwood. If I did, Lockwood would probably be the last thought on my mind. And when my mind finally cleared of fantasies, I saw a ceiling, a bricked-up window, a chair-

-And in it, sitting composed and relaxed at the same time, was none other than Anthony Lockwood himself.

There were many things going through my head.

I was afraid.

If Lockwood had betrayed me, who could I trust? I trusted Lockwood with my life. I'd trusted him with something more special, too. I'd saved his life. He'd saved mine. And if anyone made me smile, it was him. I hated to lose that small part of me that made me sane. And even if I didn't like to admit it, I think I revived a small part of Lockwood, too. The part that still made him sane.

So I was sad.

I'd lost a lot of things. I'd lost my old leader Jacobs long ago, even before the mill incident. I'd lost my family when I'd run away, promising to never return. I'd lost the feeling of familyhood at Portland Row. I'd lost myself when I'd gone down to the north of London. And now I'd lost the part of me that believed. Believed that everything would be better. Believed that I'd come home soon one day. Believed in Lockwood.

And I was hurt.

That pretty much summed up my life. It all flashed before my eyes in those three seconds. Then:

Wait.

I narrowed my eyes at a smirking Lockwood. There was something odd about him. I blinked. There! There was a dark aura surrounding Lockwood, making him seem to shine with an other-worldly light.

Otherworldly was right! This was a Shining Boy, a Type Two ghost that could appear as a person familiar to you.

The massive wave of relief that flooded me could've filled the sea. I was so glad it hadn't really been Lockwood. I should never have doubted.

However, if this was hat it really seemed, I was in big trouble.

Lockwood-not-really glowered at me. The ghost gave a nasty smile and shimmered into another form.

George.

"Well, you're in bad shape," the ghost remarked dryly. Then his blue eyes sparkled. "Maybe I can help you a bit!"

This is it, I thought as the ghost abruptly stood and flickered into Quill Kipps. He began stalking towards me, eyes unnervingly blank and ginger hair askew. This is when I die.

The ghost dove at me, wisps of plasm trailing behind, and I rolled to the side, holding my bound hands close to my back. I bumped my head on the chair and it toppled over me. I tried to tuck in my legs and swing my arms in front so I could maneuver better, but my legs were too long. I glanced up and my heart missed a beat.

The ghost swooped down on me, and I flinched.

The plasm cut through my bonds, and I gaped rather stupidly at my free hands. I quickly snapped into action, wrenching off my gag, taking huge gulps of musty air that tasted like heaven to me, and untying my feet. I slowly stood up and faced the thoughtful Lockwood at the center of the room. It disconcerted me to face someone so intimately familiar, but that was what the ghost aimed for. I felt hollow as I shut off my feelings.

"All right," I said slowly, hands clenching as I tried to get feeling to flow back into them. My rapier glittered enticingly, but I didn't make a move towards my belt. The emotionless ghost stood there not moving, now the mirror image of myself.

I took a deep breath. "You want to play? Let's play. I'll make you a deal. But we'll have to do it—"

I smiled wolfishly, a dangerous gleam in my eye. The room got ten degrees colder. There was no turning back. This was it.

"—my way."

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"This is the only place he'd go where we'd know where to find her." Their voices echoed down the corridor, coming closer.

"And why would he do this? Go to a place where we'd know how to find?" Kipps's voice challenged stonily. There was an underlining current of suppressed anger and fear.

"Because that's how Casper would do it," a new voice interrupted, too familiar. "That's what Lucy would do. Those two are alike like nothing else can. Both like to play games. And both like to have near-death experiences at least 100 times every year!"

A sharp voice, the first person's, snapped, "What'd you mean, alike?"

Then Lockwood crashed into a calm Lucy who stood leaning against the inside of the door, polishing a rapier which she smartly snapped back through her belt.

There was a few seconds of freeze-tag where everyone stood there like they'd all been ghost-touched dead, their breaths pluming in the air, eyes wide as goose eggs, and mouths slack with astonishment. Then George's glasses slid off his nose and fell softly to the floor.

"Excuse me," George said, his voice muffled as he bent to pick them up. His enormous behind bumped a frozen Godwin twelve feet back, knocking over Shaw.

Kipps turned to his team, then yelled at George, who dragged Flo into the argument.

I was rubbing my forehead with a sigh when all traces of tiredness vanished as I felt Lockwood at my shoulder.

"Lucy," Lockwood breathed, "You're alive." His dark eyes shone with an inner light, and in that moment, we could've stood there gazing at each other until the end of time for all I cared.

Somewhere in the background, as Lockwood and I instantaneously slid closer together and stared, entranced, into each other's dark eyes, a ghost hummed a "Here Comes the Bride" song.

My throat went dry as Lockwood bent down and I was thinking, this is it.

And what was it?

Something I never found out as Holly barged in between us, causing Lockwood to stumble back and glare at the back of her red-headed self.

Actually, I felt much like glaring myself.

"Lucy!" Holly exclaimed, engulfing me in an enormous hug. I made sure to squeeze Holly as tight as a boa constrictor. "You saved me!"

"I did?" I said flatly as I gave her a dead-pan expression worthy of Queen Victoria's royal portrait. "Last I knew, I was staring at the ground."

"Oh no," Holly explained cheerfully. "You provided the distraction while I got away. It's just too bad they took you. But yo look fine to me."

"Yes," I answered distractedly. "It's fine."

Flo jutted in casually, "She never actually told us how she escaped."

Something in Flo's tone made me look back at her. She was giving me a queer look, like she'd eaten something sour. Her bright blue eyes jerked back and forth between two things I couldn't identify.

I cocked my head. "What?" I was puzzled.

Flo looked like she was about to throttle me.

But then my view of her was obscured by Kipps's freckled face.

He dove straight to the point. "Did you deal with the ghost?"

I allowed a small smile. "Yes, that's done."

"Was it like they said?" George mused. "I don't see any bloody handprints or—"

"Well," I said, waving his doubts away, "the boy certainly glowed." We walked out of the haunted house. "But back to business. Next action is for me to stop the wedding."

"You mean us," George corrected.

A small smile curved my lips. "Yes, us." I turned my back on Lockwood's dark, scrutinizing stare. His gaze burnt into my back like a bullet.

I called for a taxi and one miraculously appeared over the hill. I looked towards the horizon. The sun was just setting, throwing a rosy mantle over the sky.

The taxi pulled up. I put my hand on the door handle and turned back towards them.

"That's too small for all of us," Flo observed.

I smiled. "Meet me at DEPRAC's tomorrow. Only I can solve the case now."

And I dove into the taxi.

End of Chapter 11