"A haunting!" Lockwood was saying loudly at the breakfast table, while George crunched mightily on his buttered toast. Unfiltered sunlight shone in the room, the kind of sunlight you rarely and only get in London. Sausages sizzled in a pan behind me, and they smelled delicious. Pancakes, courtesy of Lockwood, were piled up on a plate, along with blueberries and whipped cream.

"Type two?" I asked.

"Yes!" Lockwood leaned forward, smoothing his curly hair back behind his forehead. "It's a bit far, Twickenham, but it's worth it. A murdered lover, ooh, how interesting…" His eyes gleamed, he glanced at all of us. "What do you say, for old time's sake? Pass me some of those potatoes, George."

"They're by your plate, Lockwood, but Lucy burned them. And of course." George said, unsuccessfully attempting to wipe away the leftover jelly on his upper lip. "I think it will be exciting. I haven't done a haunting in forever. Bring Kipps and Holly, and it will be a reunion."

"The spirit's bound to be violent." I advised. "We should take precautions. Is the haunting in a building, Lockwood?"

"A four-story mansion. It's huge."

"Bigger than these blueberries, I hope?" George said, staring distastefully at the small pile of blueberries by the orange juice, putting a couple on his pancakes.

"They're organic." I said. "I keep telling Holly to buy the cheaper ones- they're bigger."

"Food aside, how much time do you need to do research George?" Lockwood asked. He glanced down. "You know, I think I will try these potatoes. No use in not eating perfectly good potatoes."

"Do it at your own risk," George warned him. "And research won't be long, what with the Fitts library and archives at my disposal—" he winked. George, along with the Orpheus society, had been placed in charge of all libraries/archives in London. "It's a shame we burned down most of the Orpheus's library, Lockwood, there was so much information wasted. Speaking of burning—the sausages, Lucy."

As I got up to take the sausages out and start making the eggs, George began talking about Penelope Fitts. Or rather, Marissa.

"She kept amazing records. So many relics have been in storage." George was telling Lockwood, his elbow in his pile of ketchup.

"I'm going to bed." I said. "Need rest. Didn't get much of it yesterday." I frowned.

Lockwood raised an elegant eyebrow, but didn't question me.

I collapsed on my bed, limper than George's socks, as I rubbed my forehead. Yes, I didn't get much sleep—because I had been planning.

The skull was in pain. That much had been clear by his tone by his whisper "Lucy". . But did it matter? It was already dead. It was almost gone.

No—I had reached my conclusion at about 2:36. If the skull wasn't alive, then how could it feel pain? I had made it my mission to help anyone in need, and that was what made me an agent. I had to help the skull—it wasn't my choice otherwise.

The question remained- where was it?

But even then, I already knew the answer—I knew it, and I feared it. The Skull would be in Dark London. And I knew what I had to do. I had to make a portal to the Other Side.

When Inspector Barnes was briefed about the Fitts and Rotwell scientists making trips to the Other Side, it was deemed as dangerous, and the less the public knew about it, the better. Lockwood and Co had been trusted with this confidential information. What would kind of damage would it bring to Lockwood and Co if one of their employee's had contradicted these rules?

But if I didn't save the Skull, then I would be choosing safety over my dearest companion, the thing that seemed to know all the cobwebs and musty corners of my character, the deepest thoughts under my floorboards, the feelings that were nestled deep into my subconscious. It was… well… a friend. Someone who had saved my skin countless times. It was about time I paid it back. Saving the skull was my own debt to settle, not DEPRAC, nor anyone else's. And I intended to.

"Well." Lockwood was currently saying around noon, sprawled elegantly across an armchair. George was sipping tea from the other room. "A couple of specters roaming Chartington street, should be real easy, I bet. Want to come, Luce?"

I sighed, and the sigh sounded so old and ancient, the exhale of a hundred man, his final breath. I was weary and tired, and aching all over and for all sorts of things I couldn't have.

Lockwood noticed.

"Lucy, Lucy, what's wrong?" He asked, frowning. He got off from his chair and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm not feeling well." I lied easily, knowing it would be believed. "I think I'll stay here. Maybe take George."

Lockwood glanced away, hiding whatever emotion had temporarily flitted across his face. "Alright. We'll be back soon." He said carefully.

George lumbered into the room, yawning. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get my rapier."

As soon as the two departed, I jumped up, all drowsiness gone. Nimbly, I walked upstairs, entering Jessica's room. George had repainted her room months ago, so we had moved all of her stuff into the attic, including sprigs of lavender, and her ancient bed. It was a tranquil place- I sometimes went there when I was lonely. The lavender was, as Lockwood said, not to keep any ghosts away, but because they were her favorite. A strip of iron lined the doorway. It was a nice room, a little small and cold, but it was at least hers. Lockwood had placed pictures of his parents up on the shelf next to her bed.

As always, the pungent smell of lavender and rusting iron greeted me. There were still boxes piled up into the corner of the room, ones none of us had opened. They were sealed tightly with tape. I seized the first one and ripped the binding off with a jerk of my arm.

It reminded me, all those months ago, of when Lockwood and Co. had made a spirit-portal in Jessica's actual room, to escape Winkman's men. At that time, I had had the ghost with me, and it had helped me measure the strength of the physic power in each item in the boxes. Now, sans skull, I had to do it alone.

The first packaged artifact was an Aztec mask, its colors lovely but faded. No physic charge. I went through each thing carefully, putting aside curios. With time, I found a couple items of interest. A glass container with dried up leaves, a shriveled hand, and a beaded braid. Unfortunately, I had to use my own room for a spirit-portal.

Lockwood and George returned with a small source (a marble) and Florence Bonnard, also known as Flo Bones. Flo and George appeared to be deeply in conversation, while Lockwood approached me.

"Got plenty of rest, Luce?" He eyed my dirty hands, as we stood in the library.

"Oh yes- plenty."

"Is there any particular reason you felt like sleeping in my sister's room?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

I gulped. "How… how did you know I was in there?"

At this, Lockwood leaned forward and inhaled into my hair, which made me shiver a little. "You smell like lavender and rust." He said softly, his hands on my shoulders.

"Well, I was going through those unopened boxes…"

"Ah. Did you find anything?"

"Just curios."

Lockwood smiled warmly. "Oh? Nothing else?"

"W-well… I haven't gone through all of them."

"Excellent." He beamed, as he let go of my shoulders and held my hand. "We'll go through them right now."

Going with Lockwood through all of the potential sources that I planned to use as a spirit-portal wasn't exactly ideal… however, he ignored my protests, and we marched upstairs. As we walked into Jessica's room, I yelped suddenly.

"Wait!" I said frantically, taking my hands and putting them over his eyes. "Keep them closed."

He chuckled.

I scampered around none too gracefully, picking up the sources I found, and hiding them under the bed. I jerked the quilt down so it brushed against the floorboards, and then moved back to Lockwood.

"Now you can open." I said, and was greeted by dark brown eyes blinking at me. He sat down cross-legged as I began showing him the Aztec mask.

"Amazing." Lockwood breathed. "The colors are pretty." He turned to face me. "Beautiful, in fact."

The room was getting rather warm. I coughed. "And here is a dreamcatcher." I said, holding up the circular object. It's glossy strings gleamed in the faint light of the dusty room. "No physic charge, but it is nice. Maybe it can go in a museum."

Lockwood's eyes didn't stray from mine. "Lucy…" he said finally, the dreamcatcher cutting geometric shadows across his face.

I got up from off the ground and opened the windows, the harsh spring light filling up the whole room.

"Holly's here." George called muffled from downstairs. I walked pass Lockwood and I opened the door. "Let's go." I said. "I'll go through the boxes later."

I walked out, hearing a faint sigh from Lockwood before he got up as well.