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askullinajar · 6 years

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The Shattered Frame (Part 6/7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Fic info: this is a sequel to my previous fic, The Living Ghost so go read that or this won’t make sense. Rating: General. Pairings: Lucy/Lockwood, Holly/Rani. Ao3 link: here.

A cluster of hauntings in a decrepit manor and the dripping spectre of a woman dressed all in black hits a little too close to home for Lockwood & Co’s newest member.

Part 6 – Lost and Found

The basement stairs had become a roaring waterfall. I took a second to seriously regret taking my shoes off to warm my feet by the fire as the icy water seeped through my socks, but there was no time to go back now; I heard crashes and shouts from below, felt the cold, the creeping fear, the malaise and miasma… My friends needed me.

I ignored the seriously uncomfortable squelch of my socks as I splashed down the stairs, rapier raised. The water at the base of the stairs nearly reached my knees, the iron chain we’d set up had been washed away. My friends were trapped in a corner, frantically slashing at Elizabeth’s legion of drowned spirits. Holly, unable to wield a rapier due to her injured arm, was throwing salt bombs and magnesium flares left, right and centre, but they fizzled out uselessly when they came into contact with the water. My own equipment had already become waterlogged by my dip in the pool, so I’d left it upstairs. I only had a rapier at my disposal today.

Elizabeth herself stood in the centre of the chaos, psychic wind whirling up torrents of water around her that occasionally lashed out and crashed into my friends leaving them soaked and gasping and vulnerable. The spirit wind had also blown away the drapes from the furniture, and wooden drawers and cabinets were being thrown into the wall, forcing my friends to duck and swerve. There was one piece of furniture Elizabeth seemed to be avoiding, though.

Lockwood spotted me. “Lucy! What are you doing here?!”

Kipps didn’t seem to mind so much. “Lucy, the vanity! Top drawer. We couldn’t get it open.”

I rushed over to the dressing table in question as fast as I could, forcing my legs to move against the churning water, but Elizabeth spotted me soon enough.

A great wave rose up and smashed into me, knocking me backwards and plunging me into the water. I fought against the panic rising in my throat over being underwater again so soon and forced myself back to my feet, spitting water out.

The others had used the distraction to move away from the corner and were making their way towards the vanity, slashing through Visitors in the process, but Elizabeth whipped back around and raised a mighty gust of wind that tore a huge armoire from the ground and hurled it towards them. It moved too fast for them to react, and collided straight into Kipps and Lockwood, pinning them to the ground as the water continued to rise.

“Lockwood! Quill!” I screamed, slashing at the ghost of a youth in an agency uniform as I waded towards them. Fortunately, only their legs were trapped, so they were managing to keep their torsos above the surface of the water for now, but it was rising fast.

I managed to reach them and grasped the armoire along with George and Holly and pulled. We managed to inch it up enough for Kipps to wiggle out, but Lockwood was still stuck fast, and the water was now at his shoulders.

“It’s too heavy!” Holly cried, her voice shrill in panic. Even with Kipps helping now, the armoire wouldn’t budge. It didn’t help that the Visitors were still advancing, and we kept having to pause our heaving to slash them away.

“Where’s that bloody ex-ghost and his superpowers when we need him?!” George seethed through gritted teeth as we gave the armoire another heave.

“Maybe if you were a little nicer to him he’d want to help us!” I snapped back.

“…lost…”

I whirled around as I felt the rush of cold air as Elizabeth moved towards us. Kipps swore loudly, and Lockwood cried out in pain as the armoire shifted without me supporting it.

Then a supernatural force swept the armoire away from Lockwood. It sailed over my head and crashed into the far wall, and the water rippled as splinters of mahogany showered down. I looked up and felt a rush of gratitude and relief when I saw Skully stood halfway down the staircase, arm raised.

“About time!” George yelled, heaving a gasping Lockwood to his feet. “What took you so long, Jim?!”

The room fell silent as Elizabeth’s ghost seemed to just… stop. Her image flickered, the water stopped churning, the wind died down. And her next words made my blood run cold.

“…Jim…Jimmy…?”

George’s eyes widened as they darted between Elizabeth and Skully, and I could almost see the cogs turning in his brain. I felt like an idiot for not realising before; the timelines added up. Of course, coincidences happen, but I should have known from the way Skully had reacted when he had come to my rescue out at the pool when he’d seen the ghost for the first time. He’d been acting strange ever since. I suppose seeing the ghost of your twin sister, locked forever in the gruesome image of when she’d died, would shake anybody up. I didn’t blame him for being reluctant to help us fight her, except now he didn’t have much choice.

Skully’s face was pale, but his jaw was set. He walked stiffly and slowly down the remaining stairs. He made no reaction as his feet plunged into the icy water at the base of the stairs. He walked calmly forwards until he was face to face with his sister.

“Hey, Lizzy.”

I’d never heard him sound so defeated. His voice so hoarse and quiet. It made my stomach twist painfully.

Elizabeth stared at him with dark eyes. The same eyes as her brother. Her weightless hair drifted silently around her face, her dress rippled softly at her feet.

“… brother…Jimmy…lost…”

He tilted his head to one side and scanned her face, a weak smile on his lips. “You got old. You look like mum.”

“…gone…lost…Jim…”

Skully let out a breath of air and looked towards the floor. “You’d have killed me for saying that.”

I knew what he was trying to do - I’d tried it myself with many Visitors, though of course, it wasn’t the same. He wanted to open the rift a little wider, to let her reach out to him. He wanted to talk to his sister again. But it was no use. Elizabeth Moore, or Lizzy Walker as she’d once been called, was merely a fraction, an echo, of the person she once was. Where Skully had come back to the world of the living voluntarily, her spirit had remained tied here by the goals she had yet to fulfil. She didn’t want to live anymore, and so her connection was weak.

“…Jimmy…”

Skully’s smile was sad, and it didn’t stay on his face for long. “You’re still here coz you didn’t know what happened to me. That’s your unfinished business, right? Well, some arseholes sliced off my head in a sewer. I’ll save you the details.”

Even now he was attempting to keep up his old sarcastic wit, but it sounded half-hearted. Weak. Like he was trying so hard to stay strong.

I resisted the urge to go to him, to let him know I was there for him; I could see how much he was hurting, but I knew this was something he had to deal with on his own.

Skully swallowed thickly. “I’m here now, okay? I’m safe.” He looked up at his sister one last time and gave her a sad smile. “Time to go, sis. I’ll see you again, one day.”

Then Elizabeth reached out her hands towards his face. I gave a shout and tried to run forwards. I heard the others cry out and water splash behind me. But the water weighed our legs down and there was no way we could get to him in time. We could only watch as Elizabeth’s ghostly fingers touched Skully’s skin.

And then she was gone. The psychic hum in my ears that warned of supernatural presence vanished, as did the ghosts of those who had drowned here, and the water began to drain off through grates on the basement floor.

I scrambled forwards towards Skully, praying that the ghost-touch wasn’t serious, that we could get him to a hospital in time, but when I reached him I saw that his skin was clear. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding; his powers must have made him immune to ghost-touch.

I scrutinised his face; his expression was unnervingly blank as he stared past my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

I guess it was kind of a stupid question. He said nothing as he moved past me towards Elizabeth’s vanity. He raised his hand, and I jumped as the drawer slammed open with a bang.

Skully just stood there for a moment, hand still hovering over the drawer, staring down at its contents. I edged forwards and stood beside him.

There were a few things that could have been Elizabeth’s source: a wad of letters, an iron ring, a picture frame with the glass cracked… I reached for the ring.

“Don’t –” Skully warned.

Too late. My fingers brushed against the cold metal, and my head flooded with echoes of the past.

First, there was noise. A familiar noise; the chaos of a large family. Bickering, shouting, laughter… The creak of a rocking chair, the bubbling of pots on the stove, a crackling fire, the scratch of a pen nib on paper… I felt the warmth of familiarity, anger at annoying siblings replaced by the joy of working together to cause mischief… But the sounds faded, as did the warm feeling in my chest, replaced instead by loss and grief and pain… but also the fire of determination. To pick myself up and carry on.

Now it was quiet. But I heard whispers. About life and death. Spirits and the Other Side. My heart burned with admiration, loyalty. And my back burned with pain.

“Lucy…”

The whispers turned to shouts. Frantic, angry. Fear coursed through me. Footsteps pounded on stone, then splashed in shallow water. More shouts. More pain. This time around my throat. I heard screaming…

“Lucy!”

My eyes snapped open. Lockwood was gripping my arm, staring at me with wide eyes. I had one hand still grasped around my throat, clawing at a wire that wasn’t there. I drew a shaky breath as I lowered my hand. I was trembling all over, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Slowly, I unclenched my other hand from around the iron ring and looked up at Skully. That hadn’t been Elizabeth’s life I’d been feeling.

His expression was unreadable as he held out his hand towards me. Without a word, I dropped the ring onto his palm, and he slipped it onto his finger. Then he turned back to the drawer and pulled out the wad of letters. He stared at them for a moment, at the writing scrawled out on the top envelope, then he held them out in the general direction of the others in a silent request.

“I can’t… I can’t read these.”

It was George who moved forwards and took the letters from him. He unfolded the first slowly, swallowed, and read:

“‘Dearest Arthur,

“As you read this I shall be on a carriage headed to London. I wish to tell my siblings of our coming wedding in person, as it had been so long since I have seen their faces.

“As you know, my father passed almost five years ago, so it is my hope that my closest brother, James, will take over the role of giving me away. I am so looking forward to the both of you meeting, I am sure you will get along well.

“It has been so long since I have seen him, though it feels like yesterday that Jimmy and I were stealing eggs from Mr Gregory’s hens and throwing them at his windows. I hear he has taken a job as an assistant to a respectable doctor. I hope he is treating him well and giving him an education as you did for me.

“I hope to return to you by the end of the week, my darling. Stay out of trouble until then.

“With love,

“Elizabeth.’”

George cleared his throat as he fumbled to open the next letter. The rest of us remained silent, shivering quietly to ourselves, still sopping wet. Holly had her arms hugged tightly around herself, her expression downcast and grim; Kipps looked slightly sick; Lockwood’s brows were furrowed. I eyed Skully; his face was still blank as he reached into the drawer and pulled out the frame.

Beneath the cracked and dusty glass lay a drawing in faded ink. It featured two children, a boy and girl stood side by side. He was much younger in the drawing, but I’d recognise Skully’s grin anywhere, and scrawled at the bottom were the words ‘Jimmy and Lizzy, age 10’, followed by a signature: A. Walker.

George had unfolded the second letter.

“‘My love,

“I am afraid I shall be staying in London for longer than I had planned.

“The doctor my brother was working for has been found dead, and Jimmy is missing. My oldest brother, Thomas, says he had not heard from him in weeks. I have contacted the police, but they are being difficult. They say people like Jim go missing all the time, but why should that mean they shouldn’t search for him? I shall have to contact more private investigators.

“Please add my brother to your prayers tonight.

“Love,

“Elizabeth.’”

The girl in the drawing was smiling broadly. Even though the ink had faded, her eyes seemed to sparkle. Skully sank to his knees.

“‘Arthur,’” George read after unfolding the next letter. “‘The detectives I hired handed me my fathers ring this morning. Jimmy began wearing it after our parents passed. They found it in the sewers. They say bodies are left down there often. I fear the worst.’”

“That’s enough, George,” Lockwood said, quietly, and George set the rest of the letters down carefully on the vanity.

I looked down at Skully. He hadn’t said a word since George had started reading, he just stared at the frame that rested in his lap.

And then he screamed.

It was a sound so raw and painful that it made my gut ache, and psychic energy seemed to burst from him. The others and I staggered back from the force of it. Furniture splintered, the plaster on the wall cracked, the small basement windows shattered, as did the glass of the frame in Skully’s hands.

Then the room fell silent once more, and Skully hunched over, eyes tightly closed, jaw clenched, shoulders shaking.

Slowly, I moved forwards and knelt down next to him, before wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his shoulder. Lockwood limped over, too, and knelt down behind him and lay a hand on his other shoulder. I guess he knew what it was like to lose a sister.

None of us said anything. There was nothing to say.

After a moment, Skully reached up and grabbed the arm I had wrapped around his torso, gripping it tightly like he was holding on for dear life, like he was afraid to let go. And, with his other hand, he clutched the shattered frame.

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#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle #lucewood #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #jonathan stroud #im so sorry #the next chapter will be sickly sweet I promise #rowan writes

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