Haunted: A Lockwood & Co Story

Chapter Sixteen: Fittes and Gangs

Charlotte rummaged through a box in the basement as her and Lockwood sorted through their spare kit boxes. The box of iron filings she had grabbed was completely empty. Just like most of the other boxes she had been through.

"It's all empty. George must have forgotten to restock." She said, placing the box to the side.

"No. this is my fault. I should've noticed what was happening to him." Lockwood admitted as Charlotte stood up to reach a box at the top of the shelves.

"No. It all started to go wrong when I joined. I came in and I messed up your dynamic." Charlotte finally reached the top shelf and grabbed the box marked 'Salt Bombs'. She opened it up and it was only half full. She sighed and let out a disappointed groan as she held the box in her hands. She looked over at Lockwood and gave him a sympathetic glance.

"One measly box of salt bombs." Charlotte said, opening the box. "This is a nightmare. We're dead."

"Maybe. But if anything's worth dying for..." He knew they would have to make do with what they had, but he had hoped for more. He grabbed the box of salt bombs and started to load them into the bag. Lockwood then walked up the stairs to the kitchen. Charlotte looked back at the now empty shelves before running after Lockwood. Lockwood had reached the front hall where their weapons and coats were. Charlotte slipped her converse on before throwing on the denim jacket that was hanging at the door. She pulled on her belt. Charlotte's rapier had been left behind at the warehouse and so she had to use one of the spare ones that sat in the umbrella holder at the front of the house.

"If any agent's gonna beat this bone glass, Bickerstaff, whatever grip they've got on George, it's you, Charlotte." Lockwood said as he put his greatcoat on.

"Thanks. Put it all on me why don't you?" Charlotte said, sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant, love." He told her as he grabbed a spare rapier and attached it to his belt. "What I mean is that we're gonna do this. Both of us. For George."

"For George." Charlotte agreed. Lockwood leaned down and kissed the girl. He pulled away before grabbing the skull jar that was once more in a rucksack. There was the sound of an engine outside their house and Charlotte assumed Lockwood had called a night cab while she finished talking to the skull. Charlotte and Lockwood walked out to the cab after locking the door. Lockwood opened the cab's door and Charlotte slid into the interior. Once Lockwood was in the car, the taxi took off to the cemetery.

"She was in front of us this whole time. Poking her nose in the case before we'd even opened Bickerstaff's bloody coffin." Lockwood said.

"She must have hired Carver to steal the bone glass and then put a knife in his back when he double crossed her and sold it to Winkman. I can't believe she's capable of something like this." Charlotte said, looking out the window at the passing buildings.

"Pretending like she cared. Wanting to be part of the team. Everything was an act. God knows what she's been whispering in George's ear this whole time." Lockwood seethed.

"We knew how much it had gotten under his skin, Lockwood." Charlotte said to him, taking his hand. "All his little comments, how distracted he was. We noticed it but we were too wrapped in our own bubble to take any notice."

"Charlotte, I have said how sorry I am-"
"It doesn't matter how sorry either of us are. Being sorry won't save him." Charlotte told the boy. She may have gotten slightly angry. There was a pause.

"You really think it's got to him?" Lockwood asked. Charlotte really hoped it hadn't. She barely coped losing one person. Losing two? She would be distraught. "I don't think it's taken control of him."
"No, George wouldn't do something like this. This is someone else's work. Something else's." Charlotte told him. She refused to believe that this was George choosing to do this. That it was something someone, something, was forcing him to do. The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Charlotte had a knot in her stomach thinking about George. She couldn't bear the thought of him dying or even going mad from the bone glass. She closed her eyes and prayed that he would be okay, that he would survive and return safely to them. After all, he was like family to them. When they reached the cemetery, Charlotte was filled with a sense of dread. She knew she had to be strong and brave for her friends, but she was scared of what she might find.