𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞┃ Anthony Lockwood┃2┃

Chapter Thirty Nine - Rousing The Monster

It was cold out under the front porch, and there was a thin rain falling in the London night. The agents could hear it pattering on the hedges and on the concrete drive, and dripping from a broken gutter. Otherwise the city was quiet. They were in the dead hours, and nothing living was abroad. Cold, rain and silence: that was a combo that suited them all right then. They needed to calm down.

One of the dangers of spending too much time in a haunted house is that you begin to follow its patterns and its rules. Since the rules inside the building are invariably warped and twisted, you find yourself slowly losing contact with the principles that keep you safe. The agents had fallen into this trap in the Guppy house, separating too easily, becoming prey to individual psychic attack. Holly, and George had all been affected. Their nerves were on edge, and they were huddled together in silence by the porch lantern, nibbling on chocolate and staring out into the darkness. Lockwood and Kipps had not been directly targeted, Kipps either because he had rarely strayed from his iron circle, or because he no longer had the sensitivity to pick up on subtle manifestations. As for Lockwood, perhaps he was less vulnerable and the entity had sensed his strength – it was hard to say.

Nola?

Yes. It was safe to Nola had been affected. At that point, she was hunched over the side of the porch, profusely vomiting into the shadowed shrubbery whilst Lockwood held her hair up by the nape of her neck. The malaise and creeping fear, along with the thought of Solomon Guppy's crimes, had borderline killed her gut off.

"Jesus Christ." Kipps muttered. "How much vomit can one girl produce? She's tiny."

Nola groaned, feeling immensely sorry for herself. "I can hear you, you know. You're such a fu-" Another projectile bout prevented her from finishing the whole sentence.

"Oh, James." Holly hummed pitifully. She was preparing a bottle of water for when Nola finally recovered.

"There you go, James." Lockwood said, rubbing the girl's back after she threw up what seemed to be her last spell of vomit "Aren't you pleased you came out with us tonight? No one can say that Lockwood and Co doesn't show you a good time."

She took a swig from the bottle that Holly passed over, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve weakly. The night air was finally doing its job. Her head was beginning to feel clearer and despite her stomach still cramping and twisting, she didn't feel the need to keel over any longer. "Mhm. Best evening out I've had in ages." She said. "Random body parts, mortal fear, chucking up my own body weight in vomit? That's better than going for a curry."

He grinned. "You're doing great things. If it was just Holly, George and me, we'd have had a couple of visuals, maybe, but nothing more. Thanks to you, we've got almost too much information."

She couldn't help smiling back at him. Compliments from Lockwood were always nice to hear. "Too much and not enough." She said in between sips of water. "I've heard Guppy in half the rooms of the house. I've heard him walking around, eating, whistling, even chopping in the kitchen. Holly and George and I have all seen secondary flashbacks – again in different rooms. Just about the only thing we haven't seen is the apparition itself. And we're no nearer to finding the Source."

Lockwood shook his head. "I think we are. The table, the bones, that pot on the stove – they're all aspects of the apparition. Guppy isn't in one portion of the house, he is the house. He's not locked in one small area. He's everywhere. George – you told us Guppy almost never left the property if he could help it. He was clearly obsessed with the place. He may be long dead, but that still holds. I think he's still here."

"Couldn't it be the spirit of the victim, though?" Kipps said. "Thanks to George, we know how his remains ended up in every room. Feet in the lounge, toenails in the pantry—"