𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞┃ Anthony Lockwood┃2┃

Chapter Fifty Two - What The Hell Is That?

Night fell on Aldbury Castle, and Lockwood & Co turned the lanterns low in the bar. Danny Skinner threw logs on the fire. The leaping flames danced on the rapiers laid out on the table. They danced in the agents' eyes as they sat like robbers round a hoard, checking work-belts, hefting bags of salt and iron into rucksacks, drawing routes of attack on George's map. They had many hours of work ahead of them, and Visitors seldom come to full strength much before midnight, so with their preparations complete, they sat quietly for a time. Holly read a book. Lockwood stretched out on a bench and dozed. George challenged Danny to a game of chess and was soon, to his annoyance, in some difficulty. Nola sat by the fire, seeing figures in the flames.

Only Kipps found it impossible to relax. He paced, he stretched, he touched his toes and performed other extravagant warm-up exercises that cast distasteful shadows on the wall. His hair sprouted like gingery watercress behind the goggles perched on his forehead. He could scarcely wait to use them in the field. Finally, the urge overcame him. Pulling down his goggles, he swooped to the window and stared out towards the green.

"I just saw another!" He cried. "Faint as anything, but I definitely picked it out! The Phantasm of a man over by the bridge!"

Nola grunted. Lockwood laid with his arm over his eyes, sighing heavily.

"And there!" Kipps rotated, squinting through the goggles. "Two cloaked figures on the green. They're standing close together, hoods down, huddled like they're sheltering from the cold. Ghost-fog is rising from their capes. Now they're breaking into a run... They're gone! Oh, this is great. There's so much to see!"

George looked up from the chessboard. "I'm pleased he's so happy, but did anyone else prefer the dourer, quieter Kipps? This could be a long night."

Kipps rotated again. "And ohh – that's horrible. There, by the fire! A gaunt, wizened thing with protruding teeth..."

Danny Skinner spoke with dignity. "That would be my grandfather, remember? He's still alive."

"Oh, yes. Got a bit carried away there." Kipps pulled up the goggles, looked at his watch. "Come on, Lockwood, what's all this shirking? It's almost ten thirty. Time we were off."

Lockwood swung his legs around, pulling himself up off the bench. He yawned. "You're right. We need to get stuck in. We'll do it as planned. Two teams, two hours in the field. Then, we rendezvous back here to see how things are going. Kipps and I will take the row of houses next door where we've a couple of Spectres to tackle. You others, start on the green. Come on, George. You're only two moves from being checkmated, anyway. The cursed village awaits us! Let's begin."

Out on the road, away from the meagre lights of the inn, the immense dark of the countryside opened out above the agents. There was a moon up, but it was obscured by cloud. As Kipps had described, various patches of other-light drifted on the green. After swift farewells, he and Lockwood slipped silently away along the lane, while George, Holly and Nola readied their packs. Nola moved away from the others for a moment. She had decided not to carry chains, feeling that the mass of iron suppressed her Talent too readily. With a little psychic freedom, she detected a frisson in the air. It was just noticeable, like a battery's hum, a stirring of energies... She looked up at the sky, at the dark ring of woods. Where did it come from? Impossible to say. This was where the skull might have come in handy. Once again, Nola found herself wishing that she had it at her side.                

"All right." George said. "I'll read the map. That's my forte. James or Holly – one of you had better be team leader. Give orders, make the snap decisions. You know the kind of thing. I'll leave that up to you."

There was a pause. "I don't mind." Nola began. "Holly, why don't you—"

"James, why don't you—"

They fell silent. "Can't be me." George said. "I'm rubbish at quick thinking." Humming gently, he scribbled something inconsequential on his map.