Lockwood & Co.: The Screaming Staircase

Though that means you’ll probably kick me awake.’
    ‘I’ll certainly bear that in mind.’
    The silver smoke continued to gout up from the hole, and by its light we got organized again. We’d escaped the force of the explosion relatively unharmed, though both Lockwood and George had been hit by pieces of debris, and all of us were shaky from what had gone before. We had our rapiers, but all our iron and salt was gone. George had his loop of iron chain; Lockwood and I had thrown ours down the well.
    The first thing we did was share out the remnants of our jam sandwiches and energy drinks. George and I sat on a lump of masonry to eat our portions, huddling together to keep warm. Lockwood stood a little way off, staring stony-faced into the smoke.
    ‘We should have attacked the well from the start,’ George said. ‘I reckon we would have, if it hadn’t been for that hellish noise addling our brains. It had to be the Source, really. That’s where the monks’ bones are; that was where they died.’
    I nodded without speaking. Yes, that was where they died – after being roped together and taken down the stairs.They’d known what was coming, all right. The terror of their final journey still infused the stones . . .
    ‘I reckon I see how it fits together now,’ George went on. ‘The monks’ spirits are so old, and their death so terrible, that their influence has pervaded the whole house. It underlies all the other Visitors. It’s because of what happened in this room that so many later inhabitants of the Hall went mad and did appalling things.’
    ‘All those murderous dukes and suicidal ladies that Starkins loves so much,’ I said. I swallowed my last bite of sandwich. ‘You think it’s over now?’
    ‘Hope so.’ George considered the roiling smoke. ‘That flare must’ve scattered a lot of iron, silver and magnesium down there. With luck it’ll be nicely mingled with the bones, and that’ll keep things quiet till we can get the well sealed up. The stairs will be safe. And probably the Red Room.’
    ‘You believe the blood in there was linked to the monks?’ I asked.
    ‘I believe it was them, manifested differently. They were Changers: they took different forms in each location. Gushing blood in the Red Room, screaming shadows on the staircase; down here they even became bodily apparitions, though it wasn’t their favourite guise. I say “their”. Really, their ghosts more or less acted as one. That’s why it was such a powerful haunting. Fusing like that’s not unheard of. Wasn’t there that famous case at Castle Sherbourne?’
    ‘Maybe. What do you think, Lockwood?’ I said. ‘You’re very quiet.’
    He didn’t answer at first, just watched the smoke. His body was a thin, dark silhouette, his coat hanging limp and torn like the plumage of a storm-blown bird. ‘What do I think?’ he said softly. ‘I think that’s twice now we’ve nearly died.’ He turned to look at us, his face bloodied, hair dishevelled; as he moved, ash fell from him in a little cloud. ‘I think that we’re very lucky to be alive. I think that I’ve been far too slow on the uptake, and have severely underestimated our enemy. It’s been an unforgivable lapse in a leader, and I’m sorry for it. However’ – his voice grew harsh; he spoke between clenched teeth – ‘all that ends now.’
    George and I stared at him. ‘Er, that’s good,’ I said. ‘So perhaps you could tell us exactly what’s going o—’
    ‘I need a lever!’ Lockwood cried, so suddenly that both George and I flinched. He burst into life, strode across the room, ragged coat flapping behind him. ‘A stick, a crowbar – something! Come on! Hurry! There’s no time to waste!’
    ‘I’ve got a bar,’ I said, scrabbling at my belt. ‘But—’
    ‘That’ll do. Hand it over.’ He snatched the crowbar from me, sprang across the room to the damaged wall and plunged it in between two stones. ‘Don’t just sit around,’ he growled. ‘What, are you having a picnic? We’re going to break out here.’
    ‘Hold on, Lockwood,’ George began, as he and Istruggled to our feet. ‘We’re deep underground. How can you know that’s a possible way through?’
    ‘Look at the smoke!’ Lockwood wrenched at the crowbar, levered a loose stone clear, and jumped aside as it cracked on the flags between his feet. ‘If the smoke’s escaping, so can we!’
    And it was true, though neither George nor I had noticed before, that the