Chapter 7 – Experiments and other things

"But that's so…horrible!" Holly Monroe exclaimed later that day, putting her mug of tea down suddenly to emphasise her point. "I mean, obviously silver glass is necessary for health and safety purposes, but the time spent confined is minimal and it's in the ghost's best interests. They aren't actually touching the silver because they shrink away from it. It's like sedating them. Just enough poison to subdue them. If Jessica is attached to the necklace…well that's just…torture." She shivered. "We have to find out, Lockwood. We can't leave her tied to silver for all eternity."

"Of course not. And that's the plan." Lockwood stated. He sounded confident, resolute, but I was watching him closely. This revelation had hit him hard. He had been thoughtful all the way home; stood a little closer on the tube and held my hand a little tighter than usual.

I was still uncertain how tonight was going to go. My only experiences of separating ghosts from their sources had been rather dramatic, involving either a trip to the furnaces, or, in the case of the Skull, a rather large explosion. Neither option appealed and I couldn't see how we could achieve this without banishing Jessica – just when Lockwood was getting used to the idea of her being around.

Since our conversation a couple of hours ago, he'd said very little to me, and if he wasn't talking to me, then he wasn't talking to anyone.

We were currently sitting at the kitchen table, drinking what was probably our seventh cup of tea of the day. This was about normal for all of us, although George often had a coffee to keep himself focussed. Because it was normal, I generally never experienced any caffeine rush. Today, however, I had had a different version of Pitkins at the hotel, and the plate of cakes was laying heavily on my stomach. I felt a slight wave of nausea and waved off any more tea in favour of a glass of water. I must have overdone the caffeine and I hoped I could still sleep tonight, or whatever "night" we got before the dawn's events.

There was going to be an experiment. It was the whole reason Holly and Kipps were with us at this time of the day. Holly would normally have gone home by now, and Kipps hadn't been due in at all. It had been one thing to be discreet and avoid company when it came to telling Lockwood about our suspicions. It was something else altogether to keep Holly and Kipps from knowing about it altogether – and more specifically that we were going to do something about it. They were part of the team, of course. Besides, in the unlikely event Jessica cut up rough, we'd need all the help we could get!

So, when we returned home from our afternoon tea, Lockwood and I had approached Holly and Kipps.

"I suppose she could be tied to the other necklace." Kipps posed the question. "No pain there, although Lucy might want to re-consider wearing the sapphire necklace on your date nights."

I glanced at Lockwood. "You're late to the party with that joke, Quill." I told him. "George has already underwhelmed me with something very similar this afternoon."

Quill shrugged. "Don't worry, I have more."

I sighed. "I'm sure you do, but if you could avoid sharing them for the duration." I jerked my head meaningfully towards Lockwood. Kipps opened his mouth to say something, but took a longer look at Lockwood, and closed it again. He nodded to me.

At that point, we heard the front door close and George slide his rapier into the umbrella stand in the hall. It was a welcome interruption and I saw Lockwood sit up straight in his chair. "Holly, as you are standing by the kettle, would you mind popping it on for George please? He'll have been drinking that sludge from the drinks machine at the archives all day, he'll be desperate for a decent cup of Pitkins."

Holly nodded enthusiastically. "Will do."

George arrived in the kitchen at that point.

"Oh good! I see everyone is here. Is that kettle on, Hols? I feel like I've been drinking the River Thames today rather than tea or coffee."

Lockwood grinned around the table.

Holly finished making the tea and refreshed the contents of the biscuit barrel. George nodded his appreciation and took a seat in his usual place next to me.

"I'm starving since our pizza." He told me in a small voice. "How many biscuits do I need to have to catch up with you?"

I shook my head. "I haven't had any. Lockwood and I had afternoon tea on our way home."

George gave me a look of disgust. "And you didn't invite me?" He protested.

"It was a date, George!" Lockwood interjected, more alert now that George had arrived. "You want I should invite myself along on a 'bird-watching' trip with you and Flo?"

Kipps raised an eyebrow. "A date? Really? Punching above your weight a bit, aren't you, Tony?"

I kicked him under the table. He looked up at me, annoyed.

"What?" he asked. I gave him a pointed look and he remembered our conversation of a few moments previously.

"Sorry. It's instinctive between us. Isn't it, Tony?"

Lockwood looked up from something he was writing on the thinking cloth.

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." I said, firmly. "George, when you are ready, what did you find out about demons and what's the plan for tonight?"

George selected a chocolate digestive and dunked it in his tea. I watched with a smile as Holly winced. He lifted the biscuit to his mouth and sucked on it. Holly closed her eyes.

She had a point. I coughed deliberately.

"George?" Lockwood prompted. He was tapping nervous fingers on the table, so I reached across and put a hand over his. It made him jump. Lockwood's gaze met mine and he grasped my fingers and dropped both our hands below the tablecloth. Out of sight, I felt him lace our fingers together. His thumb now tapped the back of my hand instead. I smiled softly and pulled my chair closer with my free hand.

I don't know if anyone else noticed. They probably did, but I was past caring.

George finished his biscuit, licked his fingers in satisfaction and pulled out a battered notebook.

"Okay…Ezekiel…Where to start? It's a little bit like finding a needle in a haystack on this case. We have very little to go on other than what we ourselves have seen and the fact that Marissa called him Ezekiel. Unlike most of the cases I research where we are looking at Visitors over the last thousand years, someone like Ezekiel has the potential to be much older – and therefore is less likely to be reliably documented.

Let's start with his name. This is exactly where I did start. I'm sure if you think about it, you will probably have heard the name itself prior to meeting the namesake. The original name is ancient and features in three of the old faiths: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It means "God will strengthen", with the most famous Ezekiel believed to be a Hebrew prophet. All three faiths agree on this. He lived in Jerusalem during the Babylonian Captivity and wrote the Book of Ezekiel in the Old Testament. Therefore, as far as beliefs go, he is seen in a relatively positive light and when you look back at the history of that Ezekiel, there is little to suggest any kind of link to the spirit which has been wandering our mortal world. He's not even thought to have had any off-spring, so we aren't talking about a descendant. As far as other Ezekiels go, they are usually just sons of people who either liked the name or wanted a faith-based reference to original Ezekiel.

The name Ezekiel, therefore, is non-specific and gives very little clue to what is going on. I think the name is just something which the spirit gave little Marissa when she first met him as a child. At that time, the old faiths were still very prominent and Marissa's uncle was a cleric. She was likely exposed to lots of Early Christian iconography and Ezekiel probably adopted a personae and appearance to match."

He took a sip of his tea and eyed another biscuit. Sighing, Holly held the barrel out to him. He grinned, picked a biscuit, and dunked it.

When he resumed, George's eyes were dancing with a fiery fervour. I suspected he was very pleased with himself for what he had found.

"So, name is largely a pass. But it did get me thinking that by picking that name, the spirit is revealing something of his preferences. Marissa was living in Kent at the time. Why not pick something with a Norman background. Anglo Saxon? A name on a gravestone. I mean, he could have just picked a name from a book on her bedside shelf. But he didn't. He picked from a culture which was meaningful to both of them. I started to look at Middle Eastern cultures rather than Northern Europe or Gaelic. It helps that it's a specialty of mine."

I interrupted.

"Sorry, George, but why did he need to pick a name at all? Why not just use whatever name he was given in his previous life?"

"No need to apologise, Luce. That's a very good question and one which you can't really know the answer to without some experience of demons and demonology, which fortunately, you don't have. The one incontrovertible fact in all cultures with any kind of mysticism is that your birth name has power. If someone knows the name you were born with, then it allows them to wield a degree of influence over you. It's even more significant for greater spirits and demons. After all, most of the people who were around at the time of their original naming are long since gone. To find out their name after so long, when they are at their least cautious, is particularly advantageous. I think we can all agree Ezekiel's a spirit with nefarious intent. But what kind of spirit? Whatever type of spirit Ezekiel is, knowing his origin name would give you powerful control over him."

Lockwood frowned. "What does this mean, though, George? Really?"

George turned to face Lockwood a little. "I'm looking for clues as to what the dangers are from him, and whether he has any weaknesses. Is he a full demon, or just a fancy sprite? That whole golden glow and fiery crown say 'show off' to me. According to demon law, summoning and banishing him would involve all sorts of dodgy stuff like drawing pentagrams etc. and I'm not convinced about all that. After all Marissa managed to call him, and we found no evidence of chalk circles and wax candles at her sites. I think it's all much more straightforward."

Quill asked. "Is he a Jinn or something?"

A look of appreciation crossed George's face. "No. But we are dipping our toes in that pond depending on what you mean by a Jinn." He turned to me. "Remember what I was saying this afternoon, Luce, about how each culture has certain lore about spirits and demons, but it's only by looking at lots of sources and taking the common ground that you find reliable stuff? The terminology I've just mentioned is common to multiple cultures or faiths, but it doesn't mean that it is completely accurate. We're talking about folklore passed by word of mouth over the eons. What is clear is Ezekiel misled Marissa with more than just his name. I don't believe Ezekiel is a Type Three ghost – or at least, I think Type Three ghosts are not ghosts at all. They are another kind of spirit – and that is why they are so different to Type ones and Type twos."

"Not a genie, surely?" Holly asked.

"I'll come back to genies in a minute." George told her. "No. Not a genie. I think Ezekiel is a form of Div."

Holly looked blankly at George, but it was Lockwood who answered.

"They are a type of demon. From what I recall from my parents' work."

George nodded. "The name Div is mainly used in Persian mythology. They look like humans but are larger in size and have horns and teeth."

Lockwood pulled a face. "I thought Divs were supposed to be powerful sorcerers but also ugly? Ezekiel isn't ugly."

"Opinion varies – and that's all it is, opinion."

Quill's eyes widened. "Hang on. You are saying that Type one and Type two Visitors are ghosts, but Type three spirits are divs?"

George shook his head. "Not all Type Threes, no." He looked around at us. "I don't think any of us would classify Jessica as a div. But I think we are all in agreement that she is more than a Type two?"

Lockwood's hand tightened in mine. I slid my other hand down and sandwiched his hand between my own.

"Go on, George." I said, watching Lockwood's face carefully. "Let's hear it all."

George nodded. "When you die, you go down one of two routes. You either pootle off to the next realm like a good little soul, or you become a spirit and are trapped somewhere betwixt here and there. What kind of spirit you become depends very much on the circumstances of your death and the kind of person you were in life. If you leave the mortal world in an uneasy state, you become a Type one. If you are the victim of a violent crime or a have a massive sense of injustice, then depending on your living personality, there is the potential for you to become a Type Two, instead. Violence begets violence."

Lockwood sat forward. "And Type Threes?" He asked eagerly.

There was a pause. "This is just conjecture, Lockwood. I can't prove any of this exactly."

"I know. Just say it."

"Type threes beget Type threes." George said simply.

Holly frowned. "I don't understand."

He turned to face her.

"Type threes are created by other Type threes. When a Type one or a Type two visitor kills a mortal with ghost touch, they just become another Type one (usually) or a Type two if they are particularly pissed off about it. The reason Type threes are so rare is that they are created by contact with a particular type of visitor. Another form of spirit, not a standard ghost."

Quill had been silent for a while. "You mean demons?"

George sipped his tea. "Sometimes, but there are also a whole host of other possibilities, such as the Jinn you mentioned, or Ifrit and so on. They are still capable of ghost touch, but they transfer some of their powers across when they do it. Think about it. How was Jessica killed? She dropped a spirit vessel. We don't know what kind of spirit was contained within that vessel. Until recently we just assumed it was the relics of some shaman or a spiritual elder. What if it wasn't? What if that jar contained…"

"A genie!" Holly exclaimed.

Kipps gave her a look. "Let me guess. Your favourite story as a child was Aladdin." He said dryly.

"What if it was?" Holly retorted. Kipps shrugged.

Lockwood was sceptical. "You're saying that Jessica was killed by a genie?"

George shook his head. "No. Or at least not the blue-skinned, turban-wearing character you're thinking of. Jessica dropped a jar containing a spirit. It broke and the spirit ghost-touched her. We know all that. All I'm suggesting is the spirit which touched her was an unusual one, be it Jinn or Ifrit or what. When it touched her, some of its powers were transferred."

"But that would mean I banished a Jinn or something." Lockwood reminded George. "When I entered Jessica's room looking for her."

"Yes, and that's rather impressive." George told him. "I'll need to get the full details from you later. What kind of rapier you used, etc etc."

"George." I called. "This is all well and good, but how do we test this? How do we see what is true and what is not?"

"We go to the experts." He announced. "Jessica and Skull. No one else could give us the answers."

Suddenly it all became clear. "In other words, your experiment later tonight, that's an opportunity to confirm this with Jessica. Isn't it? As well as this whole discussion about her source."

He hesitated. "Is that a bad thing, Luce?"

I glanced at Lockwood.

"That's the big question." I answered. "And what exactly next?" I asked George. "What is the plan for tonight?"

In that moment, I really wished that it was just the three of us again. Lockwood, George and me. Holly and Kipps were important, of course, but I just felt like this was a "family" thing. George met my gaze, not something he did as a matter of course.

"Tonight," he said seriously, "we try to get some questions answered."

George's plan, in short, was for us to wait until the period of time just before dawn and then try and contact Jessica and Skull. The timing was down to the belief that it was the period of the night when ghosts were at their weakest. Personally, I subscribed to the belief that such precautions weren't necessary for Skull and Jessica, but I understood that the others would be extra nervous, and it would help them deal with any concerns they might have.

"And if they come?" Kipps asked once George had elaborated.

"Then we ask their opinion on everything we've mentioned." George replied. "And I want to see if Jessica really is tied to Lucy's necklace."

Lockwood nodded. "What do we do if she is?"

"I'm glad you asked that. Perhaps you and I can have a chat in a minute? The rest of you should concentrate on having a chilled evening and then getting some rest. Holly, why don't you take Jessica's room? Kipps, why don't you kip on the living room sofa?"

"Ha – bloody – ha." Kipps moaned. "Very amusing."

George frowned. "What is? Oh… that!" He smirked. "I wish I could take the credit for that pun, but it was a complete accident." He told our teammate. "In the meantime, after I've spoken to Lockwood and Lucy, I'll make a start on tea. Shepherd's pie alright with everyone?"

Everyone cleared out from the kitchen after that. Holly went down to the office to clear her desk and find her overnight bag. Kipps went to the linen cupboard to find the spare bedding. Lockwood, George and I went to Lockwood's room. Lockwood and I perched on the bed. George sat on the chair at Lockwood's desk.

"I apologise for all the cloak and dagger." George said. "I do trust the others, but this is a little personal and I wanted to give you space."

"What do I need to do?" Lockwood asked.

George took a deep breath. "I need you to find an alternative to Jessica's source." He announced. "I think the only way for us to detach your sister from the silver necklace is to find something else which she has a connection to. I'm not entirely sure how we get her to move between them, but I get the feeling she might not have been able to access an alternative until now. If we have one ready for her, we should be in a better position for her to switch across."

"It seems like a long shot." Lockwood grumbled.

George pulled a face, "Let me know as soon as you have an alternative."

Lockwood took a deep breath. "Sorry George. I do appreciate what you are doing, it's just…" His voice trailed away.

"It's just we are making up the rules as we go along?" George suggested. Lockwood nodded. "I know and believe me, it's just as frustrating for me as it is for you. I want to be able to give you guarantees, but I can't."

We were quiet for a moment.

"Look," I said eventually. "The last few weeks have been stressful, and most of us are still healing. Let's give ourselves a break and recognise everything we have achieved in that time. Most of the time we haven't got a rat's arse of a clue what to do next, but we give it a go and somehow it works. We might not have the solution right now, but if we take our plan to Jessica and Skull, who knows, they might be able to work with it. George, if you are planning to cook tonight, let's focus on that. Eat, get some sleep, and take our ideas to Jessica and Skull. We can't do anything else."

"Except find an alternative source." Lockwood corrected.

"After tea." I insisted. "And I will help you look."

"Thank you…both." Lockwood said quietly. "I don't know what I would do without either of you."

I grinned at him. "Neither do I."

George made a particularly tasty shepherd's pie with leeks and cheese on the top. It was good, old-fashioned comfort food and we all felt a little better after it. By common consent, everyone retreated to their various rooms to rest, except Lockwood and me. We went to his room to search for alternative sources.

George had given us some specific guidelines:

No iron.

No silver.

Must have some strong connection to Jessica.

Must be portable.

It wasn't as easy as you might expect. We actually had too much choice as Lockwood had a lot of stuff in his room. It was all tidy, of course, but he had the most precious items belonging to both his parents and Jessica stored there.

I had been in Lockwood's room a fair amount over the years. As well as the incidental, almost weekly, occurrences when we began conversations on the landing, and finished them at his desk, there were also the more dramatic visits. I'd woken him when Annabel Ward's ghost escaped in my room. I sat beside his bed when he had been injured and then again just a few weeks ago when George was left for dead in the street.

I hadn't been in his room since we became a couple because that changed things a little. A bit like that moment when we stood next to my bed and watched George and Flo go off on their date. With George's gentle teasing about squeaky floorboards and nocturnal wanderings in mind, the bed had figuratively loomed large in front of us and our bedrooms were now significant places.

Lockwood went inside and switched on just one dim bedside light. Too much light would remove any personality from the objects within. Lockwood didn't have the Touch, so he wasn't looking for anything psychic, but when the room was bathed in strong electric light, he would be more clinical about the items he was examining. We didn't need a clinical eye. We needed an emotional eye.

I still hovered by the door - and he noticed.

"What's up?" he asked, a slight smile on his face at my hesitation.

I coloured. "It just feels a bit weird being in your room at night when everyone else has gone to bed." I explained.

Lockwood frowned. "Why? What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

I pulled myself away from the door and walked further into the room, pointedly closing the door behind me.

"Nothing." I said, trying to sound casual. "It just feels weird."

"We've been in and out of each other's bedrooms for years, Lucy. It's completely innocent and it's never been a problem before." Lockwood had made his way to his bookcase and was already sorting through its contents.

"We weren't dating before." I noted.

He looked up from examining a snow globe. "Are you worried about what people will think or what we might be tempted to do?" He said it in his flippant way, the one that is equal parts annoying and sweet.

Our eyes met. He smiled softly at me, and I remembered this was Lockwood, the annoyingly "perfect gentleman". My reluctance dissipated.

I crossed to his bed and sat down, putting two of the pillows upright against the headboard so that I could sit up and watch what he was doing. "Neither. I'm just saying it felt weird walking in here."

"Weirder than falling asleep on the sofa the other night?" I blushed at his reminder even as he picked up a little statue of an elf, shivered and put it down again. "Never understood what people see in elves, imps and trolls." He commented. "Rather frightening little suckers, aren't they?"

I laughed. "Lockwood, we hunt ghosts for a living. How are they less frightening than the little people?"

"I know how to deal with ghosts." He explained. "The other guys would keep me up at night as a kid. Jessica had to remove all the Enid Blyton from my bookshelves."

He was currently searching through a little wooden box of curios.

"Elves and pixies don't exist." I told him.

"They said that about ghosts too." Lockwood snapped the box shut and glanced over at me. "Making yourself comfortable now? What happened to 'weird'?"

I yawned. "I'm tired." It was true. I was feeling particularly tired tonight. I hoped we could find an alternate source quickly and then I could go to bed.

He chuckled and walked over to the side of the bed I was lying on. I held my breath as he leaned over me…

…then he reached under the bed and pulled out a large shallow storage box on wheels.

"You can breathe again, Luce. I'm just after Jessica's memory box, not your virtue."

"Idiot." I murmured chidingly. Lockwood lowered himself to the floor next to the box and sat with his back against the bed. I pulled at the pillows and laid down, propping my head on my hand, so that I could see what he was doing. When Lockwood removed the lid of the box, I could see a treasure trove of items a small girl might have loved once. It included little porcelain kittens and puppies, and aida cotton bookmarks with thick wool stitching of the kind I'd been given to work when I was six. The stitching said "MUM" in very rough lettering and there was a border with small flowers at each corner. Lockwood moved each item gently and with reverence.

I reached my free hand out and combed the hair at the back of his head. After a quick smile up at me, Lockwood reached for a pile of photographs tied up with ribbon. The top photo was a small snapshot of a little boy and an older girl. He held it up to the low light. They were standing on a beach and little Lockwood had an ice cream. The picture was clear enough that I could see a weariness in Jessica's eyes. What that young girl had been through!

"Our first 'holiday' as just the two of us." He told me. "It was just a day trip to Folkestone, and we were back before curfew, but it was a much-needed day spent away from here. I can still remember how the ice cream tasted." His eyes were far away.

"Strong memories with that one." I commented. He nodded.

"Yes, but the photo is too fragile to be of any use." He placed it to one side and resumed flicking through the pile of photos. "Oh my god! Why the hell did she keep that?!" He exclaimed suddenly. I looked down at the photograph in his hand. Aged about 4, it was still Lockwood, but this time he was dressed in costume.

A pirate costume, complete with sword.

Lockwood turned the photograph over. I saw writing on the back and heard his intake of breath.

"What does it say?" I asked.

Lockwood couldn't speak, he just passed the photograph to me so that I could read.

"'Anthony with his first rapier.' It read. 'Our little agent-in-training.'"

There was a date and because Lockwood had shared some of the facts about his parents' passing, I knew this predated that date by about two years.

"Your mum's handwriting?" I asked.

"Dad's. He was always the chronicler of the family."

"You hadn't shown any talent by this point?" I asked. Lockwood shook his head.

"My parents were my first ghosts, remember."

I said nothing. Because nothing was appropriate in that moment. Lockwood reached behind his head and took my hand in his. I squeezed his fingers and then we both let the connection drop.

"There's four boxes of crap like this." Lockwood said quietly.

"It's not crap." I protested.

"It's going to take me all bloody night."

I shook my head. "Nope. It's going to take us all night." I corrected. "Right. Where do you want me to start?"

I woke before the alarm and, therefore, well before dawn. But that was the only thing which seemed to be according to plan.

When I opened my groggy eyes, I had absolutely no idea where I was. The disorientation was unnerving. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus.

I was still fully dressed.

I understood that.

I was lying on a bed.

I realised that too.

The light in the room was green; the kind of green you get where the streetlights outside are of the ghost light variety. That was little different to my own room, except my room was so far above the ghost lamps in the street that it was a weak light. My current location was a deeper green. It filled the room. I was on a lower floor.

I glanced at my watch and saw the time was shortly before dawn. I turned over in bed and my breath caught.

Lockwood was lying beside me. He was still asleep. And then I understood.

We were still in his bedroom, and I'd been sleeping on his bed.

Like me, Lockwood was fully dressed in his usual training outfit of white t-shirt and jogging pants. The green light bathed his face gently and there was a peaceful expression which I couldn't remember seeing before. It made me smile that for once he was genuinely relaxed and happy. Like a normal person. Yet, in ten minutes, his alarm was going to ring. It would disrupt that peace with a jolt. Suddenly I didn't want that to happen.

I leaned forward carefully and pressed my lips to his, just once and pulled back.

His smile widened, so I did it again.

And then again. Each time was gentle, though I wanted more.

"Luce?" His eyes were still closed.

I chuckled very softly. "Who the hell else would it be?" I asked in amusement, my voice just a whisper.

His eyes flew open then and I realised up until that moment he had still been asleep.

"Were you dreaming?" I frowned. "About me?"

Now he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Lockwood blinked. "Sorry. I…" His eyes focussed for a second. He blinked again.

And then he was the one kissing me. It was gentle at first, like my kisses, but then the moment got the best of us. We rolled towards each other, and I felt myself pressed back against the pillows as his arms encircled me and the kissing continued.

But Lockwood remained Lockwood. He angled his body away from mine so that only our chests touched. I both loved him and hated him for it at the same time.

After a few minutes, we loosened our grip on each other, and lay close in that strange light. Lockwood reached behind himself and picked up the alarm clock from his bedside table. He pulled a face, turned off the alarm before it could sound and placed the clock back on the side.

"I hate that thing." He muttered and turned his face to me. "Fancy a job as my alarm clock?"

We grinned shyly. Lockwood continued. "Maybe you have a point about visiting each other's rooms." He suggested. "Maybe…"

I leaned forward and kissed him. "Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop making rules for us. Because I fully intend to have many more accidental moments with you like that. Or are you telling me to stop going on my instinct?"

He laughed. "Instinct is good. Your instincts have kept us alive and pretty successful since the moment you joined the agency. I'm quite looking forward to seeing how you bring those skills to a more personal side of our relationship."

"Really?" I quirked an eyebrow.

He kissed me again. "Really." Lockwood paused and sat up. "But not now. Now, we need to take the alternative source to the kitchen and see what the others think."

I nodded and sat up too. The room span slightly, and I blushed at the thought of being oxygen-deprived through Lockwood's kisses. He stood and walked around to my side of the bed. I took his offered hand and pulled myself off the bed and into his arms.

"Will it ever settle down enough that we can just focus on this?" Lockwood murmured against my neck. I kissed a place behind his ear.

"We can hope." I told him. "One day, soon."

"I'm counting on it." He replied.

To avoid looking like I'd just spent the night on a bed with Lockwood, I nipped up to my room and changed my clothes. Lockwood changed his t-shirt, though only to an identical one, so who could really tell?

When we reached the kitchen, Holly was already making tea.

"I couldn't sleep." She explained. "Strange bed, break in routine, the thought of two Type Threes in the house ready to tell us about a demon."

"Div." George said abruptly as he entered the room. Kipps trailing behind him.

"I don't think insulting Holly is particularly helpful." He commented. No one rose to his bait.

I went to help Holly with the tea while the guys chatted amongst themselves, as if they were about to go on an expedition to the science museum or something. Holly gave me a curious look as she stirred the pot.

"You okay, Luce?" She asked. I nodded.

"Could have done with more sleep, but otherwise I'm fine. And you?"

Holly nodded. Then she leaned close to me and I heard her whisper in my ear.

"Please tell me you are being safe."

Confusion crossed my face for a moment and then my eyes widened as I realised what she was talking about. My throat tightened and I coughed to clear it.

"Erm…Not necessary at all." I squeaked. "But thank you for the concern."

Holly looked frustrated, but she kept her voice low. "I know you didn't sleep in the attic last night. I went up to see if I could use your bathroom. I thought a decent shower might help me sleep. One without George's …detritus."

I closed my eyes briefly. "It's fine, Hols. You're right, I slept in Lockwood's room, but we aren't…we're not…there yet. He's being very…respectful." There must have been something in my tone of voice because Holly laughed very prettily. She glanced across at her boss, who caught her eye and looked uncomfortable. She laughed again.

"Well when he gets his act together, give me a shout if you want advice from a friend."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I thought…" I couldn't work out how to phrase it gently. I needn't have bothered.

Holly shrugged. "I've dated boys too. When I was younger. Honestly can't see what you see in them, myself, but to each his own." She deadpanned for a second, and then gave me a sidelong glance. We both laughed out loud. Unable to hear what we were saying, Lockwood looked even more uncomfortable. I took the fresh teapot to the table and rested my hand on his shoulder. He relaxed slightly, and then even more when I pulled my chair up next to him.

"Did you find a source?" George asked Lockwood, eagerly. Lockwood nodded. He held out a gold bracelet about an inch wide. It was the kind that you slipped your wrist into as it didn't have a clasp. Imprinted on the metal was an intricate pattern of swirls and lines, almost like hieroglyphs. It was very pretty.

"It's lovely!' Holly exclaimed. I nodded.

"Lockwood tells me his parents brought it for Jessica on one of their travels. It's not solid gold, but it hasn't tarnished. George, you might take a look at it. I can't sense any spirit activity above Jessica's own memories." I told them.

He took the bangle between his fingers and closed his eyes.

"No. You're right. There's nothing else there. I can't even sense the memories. This is perfect."

Kipps rubbed his hands on his thighs once. "Right!" He exclaimed. "Where are we doing this?"

"The library?" Lockwood suggested. "There is room for all of us there and the light is less harsh than in here."

The others agreed so we made our way upstairs to the library.

I'm not going to lie. The five of us spent twenty minutes arranging furniture and arguing about the placement of lights. Then there was a brief discussion about who was going to orchestrate the whole thing – which was pointless, because I was still the only person in the room who could talk to Type Threes. Lockwood refused to let me sit on a chair in the middle of the room the way I had with Annabel's ghost.

"It makes you a target." He told me firmly.

"Lockwood, this is your sister we are talking about, not some random spirit."

He snorted. "Yeah. And that's exactly why I'm saying this. I know Jessica. She has a tendency to fly off the handle when she's peeved."

"That was when she was mortal, and you were probably being an irritating little whatname."

He sighed. "Perhaps, but I'm not taking any chances with you."

Kipps laughed from the sidelines. "A bitch fight between Lucy and Lockwood's sister? Maybe this evening is more interesting that I thought!"

"Bugger off, Quill!" I told him. "No one is fighting anyone."

"That's a shame." Said a voice in the corner. "I'd have paid good money to see that. What's with all the gloomy lighting and the tense atmosphere?"

I turned quickly to see my favourite rangy youth sitting on top of the piano, just behind George who was perched on the piano stool.

"Skull!" I exclaimed. "You came!"

Lockwood followed my gaze. "How did you do that?" He asked me.

"She didn't." The Skull replied to Lockwood, who obviously couldn't hear. "I can go where I want to, remember? I just decided now was a good time to pop in, make a few wisecracks, wind you up, and possibly chuck a cushion or stool at Kipps' head."

"I didn't do anything." I told Lockwood. "The bad penny just fancied popping in."

Skully grinned at me. "So, what are you lot up to anyway? Looks vaguely interesting."

I sat down on the chair Lockwood and I had been arguing about. "We were trying to summon Jessica." I said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Skull winced. "I wouldn't use words like 'summon' around Ms Lockwood if I were you. Last time I told her where to go she tried to throw a wheelie bin at me. Which was never going to work, because obviously the bin went straight through me, but I was impressed that she's now learned how to throw things. Might hurt if she did it to you guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, well you telling Jessica 'where to go' is probably a euphemism for what you actually said, so I'm not surprised she lost her temper."

"Why do you want her? Surely, I can answer any of your questions. Are you being unfaithful to me with another Type three, Lucy Carlyle?"

"Can you just be sensible for a moment?" I asked him. He grinned.

"Let me think about that…nope! No can do!"

"Skull!"

Lockwood moved to stand beside me. "Luce, fun though watching you argue with a ghost-slash-yourself is, we really need to get a move on with this. Let's call Jessica. Do you still want to do it or shall I give it a go?"

Skull pulled a face at Lockwood. "Here, what's his problem? Aren't we allowed to just hang out for a bit?"

"We need to talk to Jessica urgently, Skull. Our little conversation will have to wait. You're a distraction at the moment."

"Gee, thanks, well in that case you won't want me to do this then."

He waved a loose hand in the air.

And Jessica Lockwood appeared in the room.