Lockwood & Co.: The Screaming Staircase

past, but also, faintly, what the spirit’s thinking now .’
    Lockwood frowned. ‘I’ve noticed once or twice you seem to know subtle stuff about the Visitors we fight,’ he said. ‘Like that ghost by the willow the other day. You said he was in mourning for someone dear . . . But maybe you heard him say that?’
    ‘No, he didn’t speak at all. I just felt it. I may have been wrong. It’s hard to know when to believe these feelings, and when not to.’ I picked up a chocolate truffle, toyed with it, and put it back down. I’d made a sudden decision. ‘The thing is, Lockwood,’ I said, ‘I don’t always get it right. I’ve made bad mistakes before now. I never told you about my last case before I came to London. I sensed the ghost there was a bad one, but I didn’t trust my intuition, and my supervisor didn’t listen to me either. Well, it was a Changer, and it fooled us all. But I almost saw through it. If I’d followed my deeper instincts, I might’ve got us out in time . . .’ I stared down at the tablecloth. ‘As it was, I didn’t act. And people died.’
    ‘Sounds very much like it was your supervisor’s fault, notyours,’ Lockwood said. ‘Listen, Luce, you followed your instincts perfectly at Combe Carey, and because of that we all survived.’ He smiled at me. ‘I trust your Talent and your judgement, and I’m very proud to have you on my team. OK? So stop worrying about the past! The past is for ghosts. We’ve all done things that we regret. It’s what’s ahead of us that counts – right, George?’
    George had kicked open the door. He had a crate of ginger beer in his arms. ‘Everyone happy?’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you both eating? We’ve a lot of food still to get through . . . Oh drat. I forgot the doughnuts.’
    I got up quickly. ‘No worries,’ I said. ‘I’ll get them.’
    It was cool in the basement, which was why we’d stored the food down there. After the warmth of the kitchen, the chill made me shiver a little and my flushed face sting. I pattered down the iron stairs, listening to the others’ voices echoing through the ceiling. It had been good to chat with Lockwood, but I was happy for an excuse to slip away. I didn’t find it easy thinking about the past, or about my close connection to the ghost. Not that I’d lied to him about it. I hadn’t been getting directions from the girl – at least, not consciously at any rate. Unconscious communications? To be honest, that was hard to know. But this particular evening I wasn’t truly bothered either way. Tonight we were relaxing; tonight we were having fun.
    The doughnuts were in the high-security storeroom, which was the coolest place of all. I’d put the tray on a shelf just inside. It would be easy to reach; I went in without bothering to switch on the lights. As soon as I did so, I tripped over a large box of prawn cocktail-flavoured crisps that George had helpfully left lying in the middle of the floor. Losing my balance, I fell forward against the shelves, first knocking against something hard, then collapsing on something soft.
    Easy to know what I’d sat on, at any rate. The doughnuts. Well, Lockwood could have those.
    I got up, brushed sugar off my skirt, and reached in darkness for the tray.
    ‘ Lucy . . .’
    I froze. The door had swung shut. Four sticks of yellow light were all that showed; otherwise the room was black.
    ‘ Lucy . . .’
    A low voice, whispering directly in my ear. Far off, yet close at hand. You know the deal.
    I didn’t have my rapier, I didn’t have my belt. I had no defences at all.
    I stretched a hand back blindly, feeling for the handle of the door.
    ‘ I’ve been watching you . . .’
    I found the handle; pulled it a little, not too much. Not yet. The four sticks of light yawned yellow, splintering thedark into an expanding mesh of grey. There in front of me, sitting on the shelf above the doughnuts: a humped shape beneath a spotted handkerchief.
    ‘ Yes . . .’ the voice whispered. ‘ Go on . . . That’s it .’
    I reached out, pulled away the cloth. Today the plasm in the ghost-jar glowed pale and green. The horrid face was fully formed, and superimposed so precisely upon the skull beneath that I could hardly see the bones at all. The nose was long and the eye-sockets cavernous and wide. The mouth grinned evilly; pinpoints of light glinted in the centre of the sockets.
    ‘ About bleeding time ,’ the ghost said. ‘ I’ve been calling you for ever