Jonathan Stroud - The Creeping Shadow

Police investigations widened yesterday, following reports of forbidden Sources found stored at the institute. Several arrests have been made among staff at the Greater London Metropolitan Furnaces in Clerkenwell, and more are expected in the coming days. However, such developments pale into insignificance next to the crisis surrounding the Rotwell Agency. With its leader missing, and other key executives also implicated in serious crimes, public confidence in the organization has plummeted, and its future hangs in the balance. Latest reports suggest that DEPRAC has invited Fittes Agency head Ms. Penelope Fittes to take temporary charge of the rudderless organization in an effort to stabilize its fortunes. She will run both companies from her offices in the Strand.

Full Barnes Interview: see page 3

“Ghost-bombs and Plasm-guns”—True Secrets of the Weapons Factory: see pages 6–7

“Maimed Lion”: A Pull-out History of the Rotwell Agency: see pages 25–33

“Well,” Lockwood said, “that’s another investigation successfully swept under the rug.” He tossed the paper onto the breakfast table and reached for the toast. “Old Barnes is a master at this sort of stuff. All that flimflam with the illegal weapons allows him to quietly gloss over the only important thing, which is the iron circle. Still, I suppose we should be happy that he’s glossed over our part in the affair, too.”

“I’m very happy about that,” Holly said.

We all were. We were happy about many things that morning. And because of this, we’d decided to enjoy an official celebratory breakfast at 35 Portland Row.

It was the day after our return from Aldbury Castle, and the sun was shining bright. Holly had thrown open the kitchen door. Birds sang, new leaves sparkled; cool spring air flooded the room, almost driving out the smell of George’s smoked kippers. Best of all, the team was there to share the occasion.

The whole team, that is. Including me.

Part of my happiness stemmed from the fact that I’d spent the previous night back in my old attic room. Back for real , I mean. In a symbolic gesture, George had even taken away most of his clothes. I still had to be careful what I stepped on—the floor was likely to remain a minefield of eerie socks and hankies for a while yet—but it was my place again now.

Well, mine… and the skull’s. While I slept it had occupied its old position on the windowsill, from where it could (it claimed) enjoy looking out at the quiet night, and (more probably) try to scare the toddlers in the house opposite by glowing an unholy green. This morning it was down in the kitchen, too, since its retrieval was another thing we were celebrating that day. Within thirty seconds of arriving, however, it had disgraced itself by leering at Holly in such a knowing way that she’d dropped her plate of whole wheat waffles into her lap. It had then been removed from the table and placed in a dark corner by the sink, its jar half shrouded by a dishcloth.

The skull wasn’t the only morally dubious guest that morning. Quill Kipps was there, too. While not himself a member of Lockwood & Co. (which would, in his words, be a fate worse “than being whipped naked across Wimbledon Common”), there was talk of him being a consultant who might be called in from time to time. He was with us that morning to discuss this, and also to celebrate our return to London. Eggs were being poached, bacon was fried, and even Holly’s super-healthy waffles glistened temptingly under oodles of honey and fresh butter. We all ate contentedly and well.

Lockwood sat at the head of the table, passing laden plates, making sure everyone had their fill. I was relieved to see that he looked like his normal self. His color had returned, and he moved with his customary ease. Physically it was taking both of us a long time to recover from our walk through the iron circle. I still felt weary, and had been troubled by obscure nightmares—but these seemed to be lessening. On a morning such as this it was easy to imagine that the effects of our ordeal would soon fade.

At last Lockwood banged a fork against a milk jug. “Time for some toasts,” he said. “I’d like to thank you all for your efforts in Aldbury Castle. George, Holly, and Quill—you did great things at the institute. Without you, Lucy and I wouldn’t have survived.”

Glasses were raised and orange juice drunk. Then Lockwood turned to me.

“Lucy,” he said, “you deserve a special toast. First, for coming back to us. Lockwood and Company was incomplete without you. And second, for intervening when Rotwell had me beaten. You saved my life that night. Thank you.”

His eyes fixed on mine. I did my best to look super-casual, but I could feel a bit of blushing going on. Then I realized that everyone was watching us.

“Ooh, awkward,” George said.

Lockwood grinned and tossed a crust of bread at him. “The truth is, we all rely on each other. Take any one of us away, and we’re all weakened. Together, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

“Hear, hear,” Holly said.

“And that brings me to my last toast,” Lockwood finished. “To new horizons . Because after the Creeping Shadow and the iron circle and what Lucy and I found on the Other Side, I believe everything has changed. Between us, we’ve discovered things we never imagined. Barnes wants us to keep quiet about it, but we all know that’s impossible. From now on, the scope of our inquiries will be wider. There are many new questions to answer, and our investigations have only just begun.”

We drank and put our glasses down. For a short space everyone was silent; we listened to the birdsong through the open door.

“What I want to know,” Holly said, “is what the Creeping Shadow guy was doing on the Other Side. Steve Rotwell alluded to some kind of purpose. He wasn’t wandering around out there just for the fun of it. What was he after? Why would anyone take such risks? I can’t imagine anything important enough to justify it.”

“Doesn’t have to be anything specific.” That was George. Not content with his kippers, he was preparing a final bacon sandwich on an impressive scale. “Sometimes it’s just about exploring the unknown. Give me a suit of iron armor and I’d happily travel to the Other Side.”

“Might need to be an extra-large-size suit, particularly if you eat that massive sandwich,” Lockwood said. “You can always borrow the spirit-cape, though.”

“It’s such a pity I lost the other one,” I said. The memory made me feel bad.

Lockwood shrugged. “Can’t be helped. Besides, who knows what’s still packed away upstairs? But we were talking about the Shadow. He was definitely doing something . Rotwell said as much. We’ve got to find out what.”

“First we have to get our heads around all of this,” Kipps said. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Nor me,” Holly agreed. “I’m just amazed you’ve both come back in one piece.”

I didn’t say anything. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still see the black sky stretching over the alternate, frosted world.

“Here’s what I think,” George said, chewing on a piece of bacon. “Lucy and Lockwood went to the place where ghosts come from. At least, it’s where some of them are hanging around, ready to step through weak points to our world. Normally we don’t have access to it, though those of us with psychic Sight get glimpses of it, I guess. But then the Shadow crossed over and started strolling around over there, and that got the spirits very excited. He had the effect of weakening the barrier between worlds. When you saw him in the churchyard, he was like a ghost, wasn’t he? You were seeing him on the Other Side—the barrier had completely frayed.”