A/N: I've been meaning to update for a while now, but I never got time. I've been home sick lately, with nothing much to do, so I figured I might as well. Enjoy.
Slowly, very slowly, I got to my feet. I checked my watch. Seven-thirty. Seven-thirty. Hardly anything was powerful at only seven-thirty…Temperature hadn't dropped either—
Thump...thump…thump…thump…
"Skull," I hissed as loudly as I dared, "Skull, what do you sense?"
It didn't reply.
Thump…thump…thump…thump…
Whoever (or whatever) it was, they were coming from the direction of the stairs—
Thump…thump…thump…thump…
-which meant that George had seen—
Thump…thump…thump…
—had seen…Wait—George! Of course! I nearly laughed in relief. Why hadn't I thought of it before? Of course it was George!
Thump…thump…
The kitchen was right by the parlor. Good old George. He'd probably nipped up to get something to eat. After all, it was only seven-thirty.
Thump…thump…thump…thump…
So why didn't I step out of my chains? Why didn't I call out to him?
Thump…thump...thump…thump…
Green light flared. The skull gave me a cheery grin. Oh-ho, is someone scared? It's alright, Lucy, it'll be our little secret. No one need ever know that you're just a big fat wuss when it comes down to it.
I glared at it. What was it talking about? I wasn't scared. After all, I'd survived Wythburn Mill and Combe Carey Hall. I wasn't afraid at all. It was just George. I stepped forward within the boundary of my chains—
Thump…thump...thump…thump…
"George!" I called. "You know you shouldn't be out of your position. Lockwood would have a fit if he knew."
The footsteps stopped dead.
Silence.
Why was it so dark?
"George?" My voice sounded high and wavering to my own ears. I cleared my throat. "George, it's just me, Lucy."
Still no response. The footsteps resumed, coming up the corridor, closer, closer, closer—
They stopped about a foot away from the chains.
"Lucy?"
George. Suddenly I could breathe again. "Yes. Yes, it's me. What are you doing?"
A snort. "Looking for you, of course."
"For me? What do you mean?"
"Lockwood's been calling you for ages."
Something prickled down my spine. "Lockwood's been calling me? I haven't heard a thing."
"Yes, well…something's at work in this place."
"Yes, that's true, I feel so on edge. You know, for a moment there, I thought you were a Visitor."
"Really?"
"Yes. Well, what's Lockwood want?"
"He thinks he's found something…wants us all to come look. He asked me to come get you. So, c'mon."
"Right. OK."
I scooped up my rapier and the ghost jar and made to step out of the chains.
Except, I didn't.
I hesitated.
George tapped an impatient foot. "Lucy?"
"Sorry, sorry." I took a deep breath. It was only seven-thirty. Nothing was around—at least, not yet. George was right there, waiting for me, probably clutching his extra backpack of supplies.
In short, there was no reason to be scared.
I stepped out of the chains.
Nothing happened.
George clicked his tongue. "What're you standing around for? C'mon!" He set off at a brisk pace, his footsteps echoing all around us in that tiny corridor. I followed much more slowly, rapier out in front, ghost-jar clutched under my arm, pausing every few moments to take stock of my senses.
Down the stairs, into the black chill of the basement. I paused once more when we got to where I thought the middle was. I could still see absolutely nothing. I couldn't hear anything either. But there was a heaviness to the cold air. It pressed, cold and cruel, against my chest.
Malaise. Strong, too. Yes, something was stirring.
Wait, where was George?
He wasn't in front of me anymore…When I'd paused, I hadn't heard anything…not even the sound of his footsteps. And he had been rather loud—
Well, I'd been trailing behind. Perhaps he'd already gone to Lockwood, thinking I was behind him. Perhaps he hadn't noticed me pause…
Yes, that was it. They were both there now, in that little room, waiting for me. They were probably worried. I'd better hurry.
I switched on my torch for a brief second to get my bearings. I was in the center of the basement, just as I'd thought. And the little room was just in front of me. I flicked the flashlight off, took a step forward. I'd just walk in, cool, composed—
Something rustled behind me. Eddies of cold air swirled at my back. My feet reacted before my brain did; I hurtled toward the little room—
"Who's there—Oof!"
"Ouch!"
"Lucy?"
"Lockwood?"