"So this voice just came out of nowhere?"
"Yes."
"And she wants you to find her source? Why?"
"I don't know, do I? It was creepy. She knew my name, Flo. How did she know my name?"
"I have no idea."
Florence paused, considering. She believed him, as he knew she would. He was grateful for her confidence. His parents, on the other hand, may take some convincing… They had lived through their own ghost stories, which they shared with him growing up. None of the ones he remembered included a spirit that wanted its source found. In fact, much of the horror of his parent's tales had been the fact that they reacted violently to his parent's attempts to destroy said mementoes. His father described them as malicious, cunning in their efforts to thwart the agents. Mom swears that the Specter who'd Touched her was actively trying to kill her. Even now he could hear his mum say, "she wanted me to join her, I'm sure."
Florence broke the comfortable silence by snapping her fingers.
"My grandpa George!" she exclaimed, excitement in her voice. Then, realizing she might wake his family, continued in a whisper: "He spent years researching the Problem. If anyone knows what's going on with that mysterious voice, it'll be him."
"Great. That's fantastic. There's just one problem – your grandfather hates me."
"What? No…that's just his face. He's got a grumpy face, is all. It'll be fine. Tomorrow's Saturday. We'll talk to him in the morning."
"There is no way I'm letting you walk home alone with that voice out there. Why are you here, anyway?"
"Probably for the same reason you were throwing rocks at my window earlier. You're my best friend and I haven't seen you all week" she laughed. His heart did its usual back flip. "Anyway, I'll just take the couch down the hall, like old times. We can tell your parents you were helping me with maths and it took so long we didn't realize it was dark out. If they notice I'd stayed the night, that is. I'll tell mine I left before they got up."
"It'll work for now, I guess." That was a lie. His parents would never buy it, but as long as she didn't go back out there he was willing to go along with it. If that ghost knew his name, there's no telling what else it knew. And if it was so desperate as to be calling out to him in the middle of the night…
"I'll just…go then."
"Yeah. Er…good night then." He was at a loss – should he walk her down the hall? Her creamy dark skin had a peculiar expression on it, as if she was expecting him to say or do something. It's not like she didn't know where she was going. There was lock of curly brown hair falling into her face, and it took all his strength not to reach out and tuck it behind her ear for her. Instead, he pushed back his own mousy brown hair and settled for an awkward smile, trying to mask his discomfort. It probably didn't work.
"Night." She disappeared out his door, allowing herself to be swallowed by the darkness of the hall outside.
Lucy did not know where she was. Ever since they'd taken her, they'd kept her weak, beaten, and starving. In short, she was delirious. She vaguely remembered the bag being taken off of her head once they'd reached their destination, but this was only so Winkman could drag her through the place by the hair, showing off his prize. He came by almost every night, just to kick her. She was pretty sure she heard the click of a camera a few of those times, but she couldn't fathom what it would be for. She was barely conscious.
"Lucy" someone whispered. "C'mon, ducky, time to get up now. Time to go. Quickly now, that's the ticket."
It was a familiar voice. They were grabbing under her arms, helping her to her feet. She stumbled, and the other girl caught her. She was half carried out of the building and into another car.
"Step on it, ya moron" the girl said as Lucy passed out in the back seat.
Lucy blinked awake. She was still weak, but the hunger pain in her stomach woke her.
"You awake yet?" the girl said.
She was propped up on a mattress, the smell of oatmeal coming into the room with the familiar girl, mixing with the stink of the Thames.
Lucy recognized the voice. And the smell.
"Flo…?"
"Glad to see you haven't gone mad then. Eat up, we have to move quickly."
Lucy took the oatmeal with shaky hands, wildly confused. The oatmeal was gone within seconds, but she felt like she might throw it back up. Her body was not used to eating. Yet she was still starving.
"Now," Flo said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We'll have to fake your death or Winkman will think you've escaped to Portland Row. I don't want him getting his hands of George, and I'm sure you feel the same about Lockwood. The sooner you're able to move the better."
Lucy stared at her. The food and sleep helped clear her head, but she was still dazed. And then her brain began to process what Flo was saying: if she didn't convince Winkman she was dead, he'd go after the boys - if he hadn't already. She steeled herself, and asked "What's the plan?"
Flo smiled in a way that made Lucy feel she was lucky to have this girl on her side.
"I'm glad you asked."
Lucy meandered around the street, trembling despite herself. It was cold out, and the thought of the next phase of the plan did not warm her. She also felt ridiculously self conscious: she hadn't changed or bathed since being kidnapped, and the layers of filth did not cease to accumulate when Flo pulled her out of that cell. Yet here she was, daylight fading, in plain sight. In Winkman's territory.
Any minute now, she would be spotted.
Any minute now, she would have to run.
All she could hope for was the strength to do what was necessary. Flo's plan was a good one, but incredibly risky. In attempting to fake her death, she may actually die.
Someone had come up behind her. She glanced back just in time to recognize the face as one of Winkman's men before she took off.
Her chest heaved, her legs were already on fire, blood pounded in her ears as each step slapped the ground. She swerved through one side street and another, pretending to panic but knowing her destination. Another pair of boots fell in behind her, and she pushed herself to run faster. The men shouted, and someone up ahead on her right responded, moving in to cut her off.
Perfect. She thought as she dashed down a side street to avoid him, coming at last to the balcony overlooking the river. Turning back at the three men as they slowed to surround her, she feigned a look of desperation.
And then she jumped over the rail and into the river.
It took everything Lucy had not to be overwhelmed by the cold and the current. She took the temporary breathing device Flo had given her out of her pocket. It only had a half hour's worth of air in it, but by the time she got it into her mouth she was already taking huge, desperate breaths. She would be sure not to resurface for as long as possible, especially since she had no clue if they followed her in or were watching the water. She allowed herself to be swept downriver, hoping that Flo would be able to fish her out alive.
She tumbled about in the waves, arms over her head in a weak attempt to shield herself from the other objects (especially rocks). The minutes were agonizingly slow. Finally, she noticed a change in the air pressure coming from the breathing device. It was time to resurface. She pushed her arms out, grasping for something, anything. Her fingers glanced off several mossy rocks until finally she found a tree branch. Fighting for every movement against the sheer force of the water, she pulled herself out of the murk.
She could hear nothing over the roar of the Thames. Shaking the water from her face and turning so her back was to the current, she hesitantly blinked her eyes open. Night had fallen completely. Along the shores she could see wisps of ghostlight blinking in and out of view through the splashes of water. She saw another tree branch further downstream and just off the shoreline. It was a longshot, but she let go of the the one she was holding and swam as best she could towards the shore. The bark of the branch added even more slices to the palms of her hands, but she didn't have time to worry about that. She crawled forward and finally collapsed onto the mud.
As weak as she was, she knew she could not rest for long. She had to find Flo. Lucy got her hands and knees under her, basking in the thought that she was still alive, and pushed herself up. Noticing the buildings on the other side of the river, Lucy realized that she had gone about a mile too far from the designated meeting place, but at least she was on the correct side of the river. She turned and trudged.
After being kidnapped, tortured, and jumping headlong into the river, Lucy did not think there was much else in the world that could be worse than what she had already had to endure. But seeing her clothes on a dead body, whose hair had been cut and dyed by Flo to resemble hers, and having to smash the face in on a rock so it would be unrecognizable, was...surreal. Disconcerting. Nauseating. Lucy slammed her boot onto the body, trying not to look at the face, as Flo commented on how lucky it was to have found one her size, as if finding a body double was like finding a dress in the thrift store.
Her stomach turned at the thought, shivering in the thrift store clothes Flo had also provided for the occasion. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Lucy remembered something Winkman had said, one of the first times he'd come to kick her and take a picture:
"Make sure he can see that necklace, or he'll think it's fake."
With tears in her eyes, and a tremor in her hands, she undid the latch of the silver necklace and transferred it to the dead person. The body complete, the girls shoved it back into the Thames, where Flo had originally uncovered it.