The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co. #5)(76)

‘Well?’

‘At last! Right. Now’s the time. I see a hammer at your belt. One quick swing, and I’ll be free. Promise I won’t kill Cubbins.’

‘That’s good of you. The answer’s no.’

‘He’s half dead already; to be honest, it’s beneath me. Kipps, though … now he’s a different story. No one would miss him.’

‘I’m not letting you out. We’ve discussed this.’

The face regarded me balefully. ‘Pity. You’re the only person who might have done it, and in a few hours you’ll be dead. I’ll be stuck in here for decades more.’

‘That’s not my concern. Now, if you’ve finished, I need to get to my post.’

‘How very noble. Your leader must be extremely proud.’ The eyes narrowed, the green haze frothed against the glass. ‘You realize that I could help you in the fight, don’t you? I’d kill all Winkman’s men with ghost-touch. Might save dear Lockwood’s life …’

The fact that a little bit of me was tempted made me angrier still. ‘Forget it. It’s not going to happen.’

‘Well, obviously it won’t if you keep me in here. Poor old Anthony. What was on those slips of paper you got from the fortune-telling machine? I never did quite see …’

I picked up the jar and made for the kitchen. ‘You’ll never know. Now shut up.’

‘Tell you what,’ the skull said. ‘Put me right there on the table. A stray bullet might shatter my jar. Or, better still, your tumbling corpse might squash it. Here’s hoping.’

‘Argh! Will you shut up?’ My head was full to bursting and I couldn’t stand the sight or sound of that skull an instant longer. I opened one of the kitchen cupboards, thrust the jar inside, turned the lever and slammed the door on the livid, goggling face. Then I cast it from my mind and went to check my weapons.

Time passed. In the kitchen, Holly and I sat on the floor, our backs against the units, rapiers and ammunition close at hand. We had set a lantern beneath the table, and its dull red light shone within a little forest of chair-legs, like an ogre’s fire seen far away. The outside door was boarded up and further secured with bars and chains. The worktops were empty; the windows hidden behind Quill’s defences. We’d bored a couple of spy-holes in the planks, and every now and then got up to look through them at the garden. You could just see the apple tree, the garden wall, the shapes and lights of other houses. The night was still. The fridge emitted its usual hum. Faint psychic sounds also came from the cupboard by the door, where I’d stowed the ghost-jar. It was probably still complaining.

‘Tap’s dripping,’ Holly said, after a time. ‘We must get that fixed one day.’

‘It’s a menace. I don’t know why Lockwood doesn’t sort it.’

‘Next week. We’ll get a plumber in next week, Lucy. That’s what we’ll do.’

‘Sounds a good plan to me, Hol.’

Holly had her head back against the unit, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, and her legs were stretched out in front of her, with her hands resting in her lap. She was as cool and composed as ever, but there was something artless in the posture that made me think of a very little girl.

‘You all right?’ I said.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘You think we’ll be OK? You think we’ll get through this?’

Holly smiled and looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

‘We’re always fine.’

Without waiting for her response I got up, leaned over the sink and peered through the nearest spy-hole. You had to press your eye really close to the wood to see out; even then, it took a while to focus. Branches moved in the apple tree at the far end of the garden. I watched them. Just the wind.

‘All clear,’ I said.

‘They may not be here for hours yet.’ Holly came to stand beside me.

‘Hol,’ I said, ‘when you first came to the agency, I’m sorry I wasn’t very … friendly. I know I could have been nicer to you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ve talked about it before.’ She pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I’m sure I was an utter pain as well. Anyway, it must have been odd, having me show up.’

‘It was a bit, but—’

‘But you needn’t have worried.’ She smiled at me. ‘Funnily enough, Lockwood isn’t actually my type.’

In my embarrassment, I’m not sure quite what my expression was right then, though I doubt the eerie red glow in the room made it massively attractive. It was sufficient to make Holly laugh. She moved to look through another spy-hole at the far end of the window, which gave a different angle on the garden. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Lucy,’ she said. ‘I know how you feel about him. But, if anything, I had my eye on someone else.’

‘Good God, you don’t mean George?’

Holly laughed again; her eyes sparkled as she glanced at me sidelong. ‘You must know there are other possibilities in this world.’ The smile faded, her body tensed. ‘Hold it – we’ve got company out there.’

I jammed my face against the nearest spy-hole. Yes – something stirring in the garden. Swift forms, soft lumps of darkness breaking free of the night, slipping over the garden wall. They flowed up towards the house, past the apple tree, spreading outwards left and right.