Chapter 6: the broken rule; the other death
Her shoulders slouched forward, arms dangled from her side as if waiting for a puppet master to animate them. Lucy's face was curtained by her short hair, and her head was bent so that her chin nearly touched her chest, but Danny could hear her whisper.
Don't say anything yet. I've only got one chance to get this right. Ready? Okay, tell him I said "George"
"She…uh…she said your name. That is, George. She said George."
Tell him I sound angry.
"She seems pretty angry." He had no idea what this woman was doing. She didn't sound angry at all. In fact, she seemed excited. But since she could kill him with a touch, he decided it was safest to follow her instructions. He also noticed – too late, perhaps – that no one had thought to encompass the artifacts in iron. The ghost had free reign.
"What? Why?" The old man grumbled, incredulous.
"She says, 'Did you not think…'" He paused after each phrase to hear the next one, and dutifully repeated them:
After what you'd done…
that night…
that I would not…
do everything in my power…
to avenge us.
George became more nervous with each thing Danny said. The apparition had not changed.
"Lucy, please…" His uncertainty unnerved Danny, and he could see the discomfort on Flo and Holly's faces as well. "We did everything we could!"
"But you…" Danny repeated. There was something strange creeping into the woman's voice, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was like she was holding back some kind of emotion.
You took it ...
you violated…
the most sacred rule…
the one thing…
that could never be forgiven…
I saw you, George…
I know…
"Marissa's Source?" George glanced around nervously under the goggles. His hand flew to his side as if hoping to find something there to defend himself. An agent's habit. "We were all looking for it! We knew finding it would unleash the poltergeist! I just happened to be the unlucky one to stumble upon it!" He wheezed as he rushed to explain himself. "I didn't abandon you, Lucy. I fell into the secret chamber! I destroyed it! But I…I was too late. I'm so, so sorry Lucy…Lucy…please understand…" Tears formed in his eyes.
There was a small salt shaker on the kitchen table. Flo slowly reached for it, trying not to startle the ghost.
"George" Danny didn't understand what was going on, but his heart sank as the old man's head bowed. He had the look of a criminal who knew the judgment of execution was coming.
You took…
two…
"Too long, I know! I've spent 60 years wishing I'd only moved faster…"
biscuits.
The building tension popped. Holly burst into tears. The apparition was shaking. George looked enraged. Only Flo seemed to share his confusion.
Sorry, I couldn't help it. Lucy's ghost threw her head back, glee splattered all over her face.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it, she said."
"LUCY IF YOU WEREN'T ALREADY DEAD I WOULD KILL YOU" George roared from his chair.
"Oh, Lucy…I've missed you so much" Holly whispered. "It's been far too long since anyone's gotten the better of old George."
"Gran, what on earth was that all about?" Flo asked, astounded.
"The biscuit rule. It's been 60 years and I'm still haunted by the biscuit rule." George grumbled.
As I recall, he was the one who cared most about it – he insisted I learn the biscuit rule before Lockwood even told me I was hired. This made Danny laugh, despite his confusion. It was odd, hearing a joke from beyond the grave. He could see why Lucy might've tricked them – it was her way of saying 'I still love you, so stop feeling guilty.'
"I gotta say, Luce, it's supremely disconcerting to see you with that pole sticking out your chest."
Can't be worse than seeing your fat, wrinkly cheeks, but you don't hear anyone else complaining about it. And I'm not talking about the cheeks on his face.
"Uh…I…don't really want to repeat that, Ms. Lucy."
"Trust me, kid. If she's not making fun of my weight, appearance, or age she wouldn't know what to do with herself. She's that daft."
Oi!
"Now, George, don't you think that's a bit much?" Holly reprimanded.
"Nonsense, Holly. Do you want a turn with the goggles?"
"Oh, well… no. No offense, Lucy, but I'd rather remember you as the lovely girl you were. Without…without the… you know."
As gracious as ever. Please tell her I say 'thank you, no offense taken.'
"So, Lucy, what's this all about then?" George asked.
It's Lockwood.
Lockwood barely had time to register what was going on. Lucy was dead. George had found the Source and destroyed it, which calmed the poltergeist and most of the other spirit. Lucy was pinned to the wall, dead. Sir Rupert was coming down the stairs, rapier in hand. Lucy had pushed him out of the way of that iron spike, and now...she was dead. There was no hope of it being a fake. She was dead.
The remaining spirits, momentarily tamed by the destruction of Marissa's source, began to stir. Lockwood reacted to Rupert's attack. He knew that if he didn't focus, none of them would make it out alive.
"You have disturbed my mistress' grave, Mr. Lockwood." Rupert sounded pleasant, relaxed.
"I'm assuming there is an alarm system? Or were you following us?"
"The latter."
Lockwood could barely think straight. Rupert was advancing, pushing him towards a lingering specter. He would not win this with swordplay, that much was abundantly clear. There was no question in Lockwood's mind about Rupert's intentions: he was fighting to kill.
Lockwood dived, aiming for the man's feet. It was so underhanded, Rupert would never have thought to prepare for such a move. He tripped over the teenager's body, right into the ghost.
Rupert's body was plunged into an icy, dreadful chill. He could feel his heart slow as his body temperature lowered. He was dying, but he had one last underhanded move himself.
Lockwood stood, and turned to face the man. He didn't see the gun until it was too late.