𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞┃ Anthony Lockwood┃2┃

Chapter Fourteen - Little Tom

The day got worse. Of course it did. By early afternoon, George and Nola had still found nothing (at least nothing, in Nola's case, that they'd officially gone to find). It was time to get home to the office, but George wanted to do a final check on some obscure journals that were housed in another building, a few blocks from the main Archives. He said he'd follow on, so Nola tramped back alone to Portland Row. And when she entered the hall, the first thing she saw was Holly Munro, all kitted out in an agent's work-belt and rapier. She had a cool leather coat on, and black leather fingerless gloves.

She saw Nola staring. "It's not a very fetching outfit, is it?"

Nola looked down. It was the kind of outfit she always wore on missions...

Lockwood peered out of the living room, carrying a work bag in either hand. "Holly's joining us tonight." He said. "Where's George?"

"He's still looking. But—" Nola began.

"We can't wait for him. We'll only have an hour or two before dark at this rate. He can meet us at the house. I've got your bag here, James. We need to get going, so now's the time if you need a pee or anything." He disappeared.

Holly and Nola stood facing each other down the hall. Holly had that little smile on; the default one that might mean anything or nothing. Nola could hear Lockwood rummaging somewhere in the next room, whistling tunelessly between his teeth.

Nola turned her attention to Holly, and shrugged. "I don't actually need a pee." She said.

Holly giggled. "No. Me neither."

They stood there. Nola couldn't help but wonder where Holly had got the gloves from. They looked suspiciously like the spare ones that she kept in her weapons locker. Nola recognised the sword for sure. It was one of the old blades that they used for practice in the rapier room.

Nola took a breath. "So why—"

"Lockwood had—"

They'd both spoken at the same time. Then, they both stopped – Nola the most decisively; after a pause Holly resumed. "Lockwood had a difficult interview with Miss Wintergarden." She said. "She's demanding instant results. A most exacting lady. He says we need as many pairs of eyes as possible this afternoon, to try to find the Source before nightfall. I offered to come along and he's found me a few things to make sure I'm protected. I hope you don't mind this, James."

"No, not at all." Nola said with a small smile. "Will you be okay out there, though? What experience of fieldwork have you had?"

"I went out on plenty of assignments at Rotwell's." She said. "In fact, when I started out, I got my First and Second Grade certificates, and afterwards did rapier training." Holly Munro pushed a stray hair or two behind her ear. "I've seen some things. I was there in the Holland Park Cellar case, when our party got blockaded underground by those seven spectral dogs. It was quite a tight spot. And after that—"

"I don't mean to frighten you, Holly. I just wouldn't want you to get hurt." Nola said.

The bland smile flickered. "I can only do my best."

Nola nodded. "Of course." She said.

Lockwood came out of the living room, stepped between the girls and swung his coat down off the rack. "Everyone happy?" He said. "Great. I've left a note for George. Jake should be here with the taxi any minute, so let's get the equipment outside. Are those bags yours, Holly? Please – don't bother yourself. Let me."

Nola sighed, and heaved her own bags out of the door.

Fifty-four Hanover Square was no more and no less welcoming than the day before. Dull shafts beamed down from the skylight high above, illuminating odd corners of the staircase, facets of wood, worn steps, random portions of the wall. Nola listened, as she always did when she entered such a house, but it was hard to hear with all of Holly and Lockwood's twittering. Him softly explaining the locations of their previous vigil, her asking endless questions and laughing at his remarks. Nola tried to blank it out, and simultaneously stifle the annoyance that twisted deeper in her chest. Annoyance had to be avoided, along with other negative feelings. Bad things happened to agents who didn't keep their emotions under control.