𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞┃ Anthony Lockwood┃2┃

Chapter Thirty Five - Reunion

"So, then... Lockwood."

"What?"

"Don't try to deny it. I saw you with him. What was all that about?"

It was morning the following day, and Nola was up early, getting dressed in front of the wardrobe mirror. She had been awake half the night thinking about Lockwood – about his request, and the answer that she had given him. It made a change being kept up by moral conundrums rather than Wraiths and Spectres. Doubts, like ghosts, gain strength in darkness. Even with the dawn, Nola wasn't sure that she had done the right thing. To suppress her misgivings, she busied herself trying on smarter clothes than she normally wore. Fittes House, where she was headed, was a prestigious location. It would be best to look the part.

"I can see you've agreed to something stupid." The skull said. "You've been standing there for hours. Normally you spend about thirty seconds getting dressed." The voice grew thoughtful. "What could it be... Not a date, surely – the boy's got eyes."

Nola glared over her shoulder. Ever since she had retrieved her towel, the ghost had been mouthing urgently at her through the glass. At first, she had ignored it. The skull had no love for Lockwood; its contributions wouldn't have been helpful. But in the end, she had gotten bored by the silence of her flat. Some people had a radio to listen to. Nola, she had a phantom in a jar.

"Of course it's not a date!" Nola snapped. "Don't be ridiculous." She glared at her outfit. It had been a while since she had worn it, and she felt unsure. "This is a business meeting."

The skull gave a long, slow whoop of derision. "Aargh! I don't believe it! You've rejoined them, haven't you? You're back with those fools again!"

"I'm not 'back' with them." She said. "I'm helping them out. It's one time only."

"One time? Pull the other one! Give it five minutes, and you'll be back sleeping in your cramped little attic at Lockwood's, snuggling up with that Holly Munro. I bet she uses your room now."

Nola scoffed. "Ugh! That's never going to happen. Holly Munro has her own place. She doesn't sleep there, anyway."

"Well neither did you, let's me honest. Not in that attic, anyway. What do you care whether she stays there or not? You've got a good thing going here." The skull said. "It's called independence. Don't throw it away. And speaking of throwing things away – your dress. Too tight."

"You think so? It looks all right to me."

"You're only looking at the front, love."

Nola's eyes rolled. "Oh shut up, you arsehole."

Nola was distracted, out of sorts. She was in a kind of heightened state, swept up by excitement, uncertainty and irritation. Ever since she'd seen the Hollow Boy, the ghost in the catacombs beneath Aickmere's department store that had worn Lockwood's dead and bloodied face, she had kept her vow to stay away from him. She didn't want that future. She had plotted a different trajectory for herself. Yet, one single visit from Lockwood had pulled her – temporarily – off course. She was cross with herself, but the prospect of what she was doing also quickened her heart. One thing was for sure: she wasn't in the mood to be given fashion advice by a stupid skull.

"You're taking me along, of course." The skull said when Nola was fixing on her rapier.

"No way."

"If it's a tough case, you'll need me. You know you will."

Nola huffed a breath. "It's just an initial conversation. If we— If Lockwood and Co is given this case, I'll come back and get you. Maybe."