A/N: Quick content warning: there is implied child-abuse in this chapter. Also a mention of being sick in the last few paragraphs, so this is a heads up for the people with emetophobia
Lockwood let us down to the station again the same evening of our visit to Stationmaster Mills. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, and nobody disagreed with him on that front. I was not the only one who was growing restless in Whitton on Dean.
Once we had entered the hall, we made our way to the lockers with little preamble. Mills had given us a strong lead, and now that Mr Mills had pointed us toward the lockers as a location of the source, I could barely believe how blind we had been during our last visit. Holly and Quill created a double chain circle a few feet from the locker unit, wide enough for the five of us to retreat into without having to rub shoulders, should the need arise.
We put our kit down in the circle and prepared to get down to some heavy lifting. Mills had assured us that the locker units should be movable if we took out the anchoring, but also promised that if we did have to damage anything to get to the source, he wouldn't hold us accountable. "Tear the damn things apart if it is necessary to make my station safe again. We don't need this kind of danger in town," were his exact words.
While Lockwood and Quill unscrewed the wall anchors, I ran my finger over the straps and pouches on my work belt, a nervous habit to reassure myself that I had all my defences on hand. I could defend myself if push came to shove. The others noticed my nerves, Holly didn't stray more than three feet from my side and George kept a sharp eye on me as well, but nobody saw fit to comment on it. Well, nobody except the skull, of course.
"Careful with that flare, we wouldn't want you to drop it and blow burn down the entire station, would we?" It said merrily. "Shut up," I hissed back through gritted teeth. "Ooh, someone's touchy. Are your nerves getting the better of you?"
"My nerves are fine, thank you. Just shut up if you're not going to be helpful."
"Oh you're no fun," the skull complained. I could feel the psychic buzz coming from my backpack. "I spent all day in that empty space under your bed, listening to you and that gaggle of sisters of yours argue about who gets the fine china. Let me have my fun!"
"I'll turn the lever if you don't shut up," I threatened.
"All right, all right. keep your hair on,"
I tuned out the skull and returned my attention to my friends. Lockwood and Quill had finished unscrewing the anchoring and walked back to our chain circle to store away the screwdrivers they had used.
"All right," Lockwood said, clapping his hands together to rub off traces of dust he may have picked up. "So far everything is quiet, but I think it would be a smart idea to do a quick sweep of the hall before we focus on finding the source. Just because the sun hasn't set yet, doesn't mean we can let our guards down."
This was a perfectly sensible way of working. Under any other circumstances, I would have commended Lockwood for the decision not to rush into the situation. It was important to do a preliminary sweep, it kept the amount of psychic surprises that could arise to a minimum. This time, however, I was anxious to get the ordeal over with. I wanted nothing more than to find the source and seal it up, so I would never have to set foot inside here at night again.
Still, Lockwood was the boss, and we had seen that my father's ghost wasn't a Visitor to laugh at, so I bit my tongue and got my thermometer out.
As expected, we didn't pick up on anything big. For now, the last rays of the sun warded off the psychic phenomena lurking in the shadows, and even the high-pitched whistling was absent at the moment. I still took a moment to close my eyes and open myself up to the station when I circled back to the lockers. Even a whisper of psychic sound could be enough to warn us of incoming danger. The only sounds I could hear were the shuffling of my teammates around the station, and the soft humming of the skull in the jar.
"There's a cold spot near the lockers, although the temp is only one degrees Celsius lower," George stated after we had reconvened in front of the lockers again, holding up his notebook to show the temperatures he had noted down. "I think the best course of action is to check behind the lockers and see if we can find something."
"I agree," Lockwood said. "Let's not waste time, I'd rather get this done before Mr Carlyle shows up."
Quill nodded, adjusting the goggles on his head. He had pulled them down over his eyes during our round, but because there was no imminent danger chose his broader field of view over the enhanced psychic vision. He followed Lockwood to one end of the locker unit.
"Hol, keep a look out for the ghost. We don't want to be taken by surprise," Lockwood said, awkwardly pulling at the lockers to create a space between the metal and the wall. George and I took our position on the other end, and together the four of us shoved the lockers aside so the wall was clear. There was a lighter section of wall which had been spared the hands of time as it had been covered by the previous unit, but besides the lighter colour, there did not seem to be anything special about the bricks at first glance.
"Right," Quill muttered. "I'm not seeing anything special, so I guess that means we will have to feel for loose bricks?"
"Yup," George agreed, popping the p. "We'll have to check them all, it will take a while, but it's the best-"
"We don't," I interrupted. George turned to me and raised his eyebrows.
"What do you mean, we don't?"
"There are spiders."
I pointed at the lower right corner of the exposed wall where two fat black spiders scurried away, disappearing into a small crack between two bricks in the darker area. While the others watched, I crouched down and felt the two bricks. The two were firmly stuck, but I was sure the spiders had given me a lead. While I felt the bricks of the lower right corner, Lockwood started feeling the bricks in the section above me, and Quill started in the middle.
I'm not sure how much time passed as we worked. Even disregarding the left section of the lighter wall, progress was slow. We felt each individual brick, pulled and wriggled to see if there was movement. I even used my penknife to hack away some mortar. Behind us Holly turned on the gas lantern when the natural light was getting low, and we continued.
It was Lockwood who got it. Two stabs with his pen knife were enough to dislodge the dried mud that disguised that someone had messed with brick, and with some prying and pulling, he pulled it out of the wall. Now that he had dislodged the brick, a recess in the wall was revealed. Or more accurately, a dark hole had appeared in the wall.
No light seemed to be able to reach beyond the anterior of the bricks. It was swallowed up by an inky darkness that made it impossible to estimate the depth of the recess. Even shining a torch into it directly did not make a difference. It reminded me of the way the windows of the kitchen door in Guppy's house had blacked out when the Ealing Cannibal played its first trick on me.
Lockwood was hesitant to just stick his hand in. The unnatural shadows could be anything from a psychic taunt to the first manifestations of my father's Dark Spectre. Carelessly reaching into it could be a fast way to get Ghost Touched.
"Quill, scatter some salt in and feel if there's anything in there," he ordered, putting the loose brick down on the floor and taking a step back.
"What? why me? You're right there!" Quill protested.
"Because it's your turn. One agent in the line of fire, you know, according to the Fittes Manual?"
Perhaps it wasn't the right thing to do, mentioning Quill's former employer. He flushed, the colour spreading down his pale skin to his neck. Indignation washed over his face, and he opened his mouth to give a rebuttal, but I didn't give them a chance to start a fight.
Without comment I slipped in between them, opening the satchel of iron filings on my belt and tossing a handful into the brick-shaped hole. The darkness fizzled out into a more natural shadow, and without giving myself time to overthink, I stuck my hand in. The opening was deeper than just the brick, and I had to feel around through the silky cobwebs clinging to my skin like some horrible parody of cotton candy.
There was a loud bang behind me, and Quill let out a heartfelt curse. It was tempting to turn around and look, but being this close to the source, that could be my last mistake. Instead, I trusted my team to have my back. Ignoring the spider skidding across my hand, I closed my fingers around the object hidden in the recess. The cold radiating off of it was biting, sucking away at my body warmth like a vacuum. I clenched my jaw and drew my hand back.
Along with the cold, something else shot up my arm to my shoulder. I recognised the feeling that preceded a psychic echo, but it was as if the muscles in my hand had cramped up, curling around the object I held like a vice. Sounds from the past welled up in my mind.
The sound of a belt unbuckling and whispered pleas, high pitched and afraid. Unbridled fury running through my veins.
The echo retreated, like the silence between two heartbeats, but returned full force a moment later. Feelings of anger turned into satisfaction, and then into a deep sense of self loathing and shame as I heard the soft, sniffling sobs of a young girl.
"If you do not shut up, I'll go to your sisters."
I finally managed to let go of the object, gasping for air. The cold and the echo drained from me so suddenly I lost my balance, falling backward and landing ungracefully on my bottom. My stomach was roiling, and I could taste bile on the back of my tongue.
The part of my brain that wasn't struggling with what I just experience expected to hear the skull snigger at me, or have it make a jibe at me, but he stayed uncharacteristically silent.
Someone put a hand on my shoulder, startling me so much I smacked it away.
"Lucy?" Lockwood questioned, pulling his hand back with a frown. "Are you all right?"
I wanted to answer him. Give him a reassuring Carlyle Grin. Do something to show him I was all right, but I was afraid I'd throw up my dinner over his shoes if I opened my mouth. I pressed the back of my hand against my lips and found that my face was wet with tears. I tried to focus on taking deep breaths through my nose until the nausea subsided.
While I gathered my bearings, Holly darted in front of me and swept up the source I had dropped. She looked somewhat disheveled, with her work belt having shifted from its regular position, and a few unruly strands of hair escaping her pony tail. I assume she and Quill had fought off the Visitor when the bang sounded behind me. I glimpsed a buckle and crumbling leather before Holly dropped it into a silverglass case, and my stomach cramped so violently at the sight, I nearly did throw up. A part of the oppressing atmosphere dissipated as Holly locked the case, and I could breathe a little easier.
"Luce?" Lockwood started, "are you with us again?" He didn't try to touch me again, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. I had struck him with more force than I thought, but he seemed more worried about me than about the red spot blooming on his skin.
"S-sorry…" I managed. My voice cracked, and shame flooded through me. My own this time. Lockwood didn't seem to care I had hurt him, but I did. He had been so kind to me the last few days — all my friends had — and I had taken out the surplus of feelings on him. Was I any different from my father?
"Lockwood, I'm sorry, I-"
"Hey, it's okay Luce," Lockwood interrupted my second attempt at apologising. He crouched in front of me, extending a hand in my direction. His movements were slow but deliberate, and after a moment of hesitation I took his hand. He pulled me to my feet and let go, his expression calm and nonjudgemental. "The source is sealed now, you can take a moment to recover. Do you want tea?" He was pulling out his thermos even before I nodded, and I gratefully took it from him.
George was busy rifling through one of the kitbags. I thought he had been tucking away the source, but he pulled out a packet of digestives, offering me one of the chocolate covered biscuits. The tea washed away the lump in my throat and focussing on the sweet taste of the biscuit helped me ground myself a little more. Nobody spoke while we ate our biscuit and drank our tea, but that suited me just fine.
"So, are we done here now?" Holly asked a few minutes later. She adjusted her work belt and wiped a lock of hair out of her face, and she looked like her put together self again.
"I should think we are," Lockwood replied. "The phenomena stopped after you put away the belt, so it must be the source."
There was a murmur of agreement, and we packed our equipment. I was glad to leave the station behind, without another encounter with my father's spirit. I was sick and tired of the place.
As we walked down the station's steps, George slipped me an extra biscuit. It was a small gesture, but the rest of the way back to the cottage, my steps felt a little lighter.
A/N: Chapter 10! I'm slowly nearing the end, which is amazing after working on this fic for about a year! Please let me know what you think, because I thrive on feedback and I could use the dopamine rush I get from all your wonderful comments!