Haunted: A Lockwood & Co Story

Chapter Seven: Ophelia and Hamlet

"We've been looking at it the wrong way around," Lockwood said. They were now walking down the street towards the British Archives. Lockwood had practically rushed them out of the house after telling Charlotte to change out of the clothes she had fallen asleep in. She was now wearing a lilac turtleneck jumper with a dark purple jacket over the top. She had tied her curly hair into a ponytail with a purple scrunchie. Charlotte's purple Converse adorned her feet and the tops were slightly covered by her bootleg jeans. She looked both ways before crossing the road with Lockwood and George. "It's not about us helping Annabel. It's about her helping us."

"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked, pulling her jacket around her to stop the cool winter air from penetrating her jumper.

"It's all about media exposure. Annabel's disappearance was a big story. It's far bigger than us burning a house down." Lockwood told the girl, his hand on his rapier. He was now wearing his usual too-small dress shirt, tie, and big black overcoat. George was walking beside Lockwood, and Charlotte was on Lockwood's other side. "If we solve her murder the headlines we'll get will cancel out all our bad press practically overnight."

"I thought you said no more pet projects." Charlotte said, skeptical of the sudden change in Lockwood. They had paused at the lights to cross the road and Charlotte looked up at the taller boy.

"It's not a pet project anymore. It's the main event." Lockwood said, giving Charlotte his signature grin. The light turned green and the three crossed the road.
"It wont make us 60 grand." George protested. Out of the three of them, George definitely stood out the most. He had put on an orange tracksuit set with an orange flannel and a puffer jacket over the top.

"It could make us more." Lockwood countered. Charlotte had to move slightly over, closer to Lockwood, to avoid being hit by a pedestrian. At the same time, Lockwood had subconsciously reached out and grabbed the girl by her hand to move her out of the way. Even after the person had left, Lockwood didn't let go of her hand, and it made Charlotte flush. "I mean, think of the millions of old people sat at home, with nothing to do but read the papers and reminisce. They love murder mysteries. It's a bona fide front page splash. Barnes won't dare move against us."

"Leave me out of it." Charlotte told the boy. She didn't need her dad or even anyone she knew in Brighton to see her name in the papers and come to drag her back to the hell that had been her life since Felicity had died. She'd had enough of her name being dragged through the mud with that case and she didn't need it now either. "I don't like my name in the papers."

"You've just gotta know how to deal with them, Char." Lockwood said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Leave that to me."

"I mean it Lockwood. Leave me out of it. I don't want the spotlight to be on me." She had paused at that statement, which had caused Lockwood to stop as well. George had taken an extra step before stopping as well. Once she knew Lockwood had understood, she kept walking, Lockwood's hand still in hers. "The most important thing right now is solving the case."

After a few more minutes of walking, they came across a very gray and square building. On the side it said 'The British Archives'. The side that they were coming from was full of windows and Charlotte could see several rows of books through the windows.
"This is where it all happens. Quietly. So behave yourselves, okay?" George instructed them. The two looked at each other before nodding in agreement. They walked up the steps before walking through the revolving doors. George led them into a small line to get their day passes and Charlotte took the time to inspect the Archives. The inside of the Archives was quite impressive. From the outside it looked quite small but that was not true at all. While the outside was gray and drab, the inside seemed very bright. The walls were white and the bannisters of the stairs were a contrasting dark oak wood. Her hand was tugged along as George received their passes. Charlotte was in awe. She had taken a few of her own books with her when she ran but not very many. And while the library back at Portland Row was better than what she had had, it was nothing compared to this.