Haunted: A Lockwood & Co Story

30% Alright

Charlotte had never run faster in her life. She launched herself from her spot next to George and skidded to a stop next to Lockwood. Dirt flew up in a cloud as she skidded. Lockwood was heaped on the floor, clutching at his arm, slouched against the cobble wall. He was fading in and out of consciousness, his pink flushing pink to grey, but his eyes stayed brown. His brown. While they were dim, they still stayed his eyes.

"Lockwood, darling," Charlotte whispered, pulling his coat off gently. "What happened?"

Lockwood coughed and the movement looked very quite painful. "Fought off a load of thugs, fell down the catafalque hole, battled a bunch of ghosts. You know the usual. Oh, and I got shot."

Charlotte's eyes went wide, as her throat started to constrict. She noticed the red stain growing across his shirt. Lockwood was gasping for breath as his chest heaved up and down. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"We need an ambulance!" George said, coming over to the two. He helped Charlotte pull their friend off the ground, each having an arm underneath Lockwood's own arms, supporting him. Lockwood shook his head, wincing.

"No. You need to destroy Joplin's recordings. You need to make Kipps stay quiet or you'll be even more done than I am." Lockwood said, as they took a slight step forwards.

"You're not done." Charlotte said, placing a hand on his abdomen. She was not losing him. This was not how he died. "Don't say that. This is not how you die. Not now. Not ever."

"How do you know that?" Lockwood asked, looking at her and grinning confidently. Even with a bullet in his shoulder, he was still quite cocky.

"Because we will not let you, you understand?" Charlotte was strict. She would not allow his charm to work it's usually magic on her. She would not be losing him today. "Will we, Georgie?"

George, too, was glaring at Lockwood. "Never."

The ride back up on the catafalque was silent. Quill Kipps sat sheepishly on the corner of the slate. He had sworn that he would stay quiet about everything that had happened, but Charlotte still wasn't quite sure he would. Lockwood was sprawled out across the slate, his head resting in Charlotte's lap. And suddenly, all the monsters in his head falls silent as he rested his head in her lap. Charlotte was cradling his head in her hands, stroking the soft skin with the tip of her thumb. His blood was starting to seep more into his shirt and onto her own jeans, but Charlotte didn't care. She just needed him to stay alive. George sat on the otherside of Lockwood and Charlotte, watching for any dimness in his eyes or the slowing of Lockwood's chest.

"If you die, I'll kill you. I swear it." Charlotte whispered to Lockwood, brushing some of the hair that had been matted to his hair from sweat out of his eyes.

Despite his breath already being laboured, Lockwood chuckled. "I know you will, love." He said with a slur.

»»————-　　————-««

The sun was up over Kensal Green; it wasn't yet six a.m., but already it was pleasant to be out. The chill in the air was soothing after the heat of the catacombs. Trees glistened, the grass shone; there were probably plenty of bees and butterflies drifting around, if Charlotte had the energy to notice. As it was, the only samples of wildlife she could see were the dozen or so DEPRAC officers who'd taken up residence in the excavators' camp. Charlotte sat on the chapel steps above them, letting the cool air settle on her skin.

They'd brought vans in, and were using the site as a temporary incident room. Beside one vehicle, Inspector Barnes stood in animated conference with George. Charlotte could almost see his moustache bristling from afar. Outside another van, a group of medics treated Lockwood - and also Kat Godwin, Bobby Vernon and Ned Shaw, who stood together in a ragged line. As for Quill Kipps, he'd already been patched up. He sat a few steps below Charlotte; together they watched a procession of officers entering the chapel. They carried iron, silver and all manner of protective boxes, to make safe the contents of the catacombs.