Lockwood & Co Read Online Free Page B

move.
    ‘That’s it,’ Lockwood breathed. ‘We’re almost there . . .’
    Air stirred. I looked to the side. A figure stood beside us in the dark. It had long white hair, and naked, grinning teeth.
    I screamed, gave a final desperate shove. The wall moved: the panel swung open. Lockwood, George and I fell forward through the hole.
    Whatever we landed on was both soft and brittle. Dry things snapped beneath us; I heard the sliding chink of coins. Momentum carried me furthest: I did a brisk head-over-heels and ended up in a sitting position, with my boots wedged against the opposite wall. I jumped to my feet, whipped out my torch and switched it on.
    We were in a tiny windowless room, made smaller by the piled chests and boxes ranged along one wall. Some were closed; others, lidless, were full to overflowing with a strange medley of objects: candelabras, vases, even paintings. Everything was swathed in layers of dusty cobwebs. No surprises here. Spiders
love
Sources; they can’t get enough of them.
    Speaking of the Source, it was right beneath us. We’d landed on it. Lockwood and George were hastily rolling clear. Directly in front of the secret panel, a body lay face down upon the floor. It was pretty cobwebby, but you could see the old-style jacket, the flannel trousers, the rotting leather shoes. Here and there were glimpses of yellowed bone. The head was hidden beneath a heavy wooden chest, the lid of which had broken open, and by a mass of greenish coins that had poured forth from it, half swallowing the skull. A certain amount of white hair still poked through, but the face was mercifully concealed.
    None of us said anything. George was pulling his bag from his back, Lockwood tearing it open, looking for the silver. I kept my eyes trained on the secret door, on the dark corners of the room. I could feel the presence close at hand. But nothing stirred now. Maybe I’d sapped the thing’s strength out in the corridor; or maybe it had finally accepted what we were here to do. Who knew with ghosts? It was impossible to say.
    Lockwood took a silver net from the bag, unfolded it to its full extent, and laid it over the body. At once I felt a lifting of the spirits, a change to the atmosphere in the secret room. I listened, tense and ready. No . . . it was OK. The presence was truly gone.
    We stood there in silence.
    ‘Look at all the stuff he pinched,’ Lockwood said at last. ‘Quite the little collector, wasn’t he?’
    ‘That shelf broke,’ I said. ‘Look there – just above the door. He was hiding in here, maybe getting ready to nip off after dark. He had his chest of stolen money sitting on the shelf. Then it fell down and brained him. Cracked his skull or broke his neck. That’s how it happened.’
    ‘Just deserts, I suppose,’ Lockwood said. ‘He shouldn’t have nicked so much. Well, it’s over now.’
    George stepped over the corpse and began rummaging in his bag. ‘Great. So, who fancies a celebratory bun? I’ve got some iced ones here.’
    Lockwood hesitated. ‘Er, possibly in a minute. When we’re somewhere else.’ He smiled. ‘Well done, everybody. Especially you, Luce. You did really well tonight. Made the right decisions at every turn.’
    I grinned back, flushing a little, as I sometimes do when Lockwood trains his smile on me. ‘Oh, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t just me, really. This job’s all about teamwork, isn’t it? I couldn’t have done it on my own.’ I gazed down at the pile of coins, and at the boxes stacked against the walls. ‘Think this stuff’ll be worth anything now?’
    ‘Expect so,’ Lockwood said. ‘Mr Whitaker can probably afford more refurbishments to the school.’
    George picked up his bag. ‘He might start with the boys’ toilets. I can smell them from here. So, is that it, then? Are we done?’
    Lockwood nodded. ‘Yes . . . Yes, I think we are.’
    And with that we left the room behind us, and went to have a bun.

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