Jonathan Stroud - The Creeping Shadow

“Excellent,” Lockwood said. “Thank you. I’m glad, because that’s what I think, too. Let’s clear up breakfast. George, why don’t you put the kettle on? It’s time for Lockwood and Company to get to work.”

Two minutes later I was standing at the sink, doing the dishes, staring out at nothing, when I noticed a green glow coming from behind the dishcloth. I flipped it away—to find the ghost in the jar watching me. For once, its face was only mildly repulsive. It looked very sober and serious. “Nice speech from Lockwood, there,” the skull said. “Very prettily done. I could almost believe for a minute you weren’t doomed. Which I suppose was his intention. So…fill me in. I caught a peek from under that cloth. Who was that who just came in?”

“Penelope Fittes.”

“Who’s she?”

“Head of the Fittes Agency. And ruler of all London, it now appears—in her own mind, at least. Get with the beat. I thought you knew that.”

“Oh, I’m just a poor old skull, I am. A bit slow on the uptake. So that’s Penelope Fittes, is it? Head of Fittes House? Granddaughter of old Marissa who started it all?”

“Yes. And she suddenly isn’t quite as friendly as we thought….What’s with you? Why are you laughing?”

“No reason….How old would you say she was?”

“What, are you thinking of proposing marriage? How do I know?”

“I see she had a bodyguard with her,” the skull said. “That blond fellow with the peach fuzz mustache.”

I grunted. “Yeah. Sir Rupert Gale. A nasty piece of work.”

“Yes, a smiling, blue-eyed killer. But it’s no surprise. She always did have someone there to do her dirty work.”

“Who did?”

“Marissa Fittes.”

“We’re talking about Penelope.”

“Mmm…yes. Better rinse that plate again, Lucy. Still has ketchup on it.”

I went on with the dishes, staring out into the garden. At my side, the skull continued to chuckle witlessly to itself.

“All right,” I said finally. “Let me in on the joke.”

“I met Marissa once,” the skull said. “I spoke with her. I told you that, remember?”

“Yes. I know. She put you in that jar.”

“It’s pretty weird to see her standing there again.”

“Does Penelope resemble her?” I thought of the wizened old woman in the photographs at Fittes House. But that was at the end of Marissa’s life; perhaps earlier, she’d looked more like Penelope.

“You could say that. She’s no different than she was fifty years ago. Eek, it freaks me out, and I’m a skull in a jar. Anyway, don’t let me distract you. You’ve moved on to the silverware now. Ooh, jammy knives and eggy spoons. Exciting times.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re losing me. Run that past me again.”

“How has she managed to do that, I wonder? Because she really is no different. Eighty years old or more, and she almost looks younger, if anything.”

I gazed at the ghost. It gazed at me. Then its eyes rolled in opposite directions.

“Let me put it in words of few syllables so you can understand, Lucy. Penelope Fittes isn’t Marissa’s granddaughter. She’s her.”

I stopped where I was, with my hands in the soapy water, and stared at the jar. Behind me, George was putting tea bags into cups. The kettle was boiling. Lockwood and Kipps were arguing about something. Holly was in the garden, shaking crumbs off the Thinking Cloth. And all the time the ghost in the jar was watching me with its black and glittering eyes.

“She’s her ?” I repeated.

“Exactly. Penelope Fittes is Marissa Fittes. They’re one and the same person.”

* indicates a Type One ghost

** indicates a Type Two ghost

Agency, Psychic Investigation—A business specializing in the containment and destruction of ghosts. There are more than a dozen agencies in London alone. The largest two (the Fittes Agency and the Rotwell Agency) have hundreds of employees; the smallest (Lockwood & Co.) has three. Most agencies are run by adult supervisors, but all rely heavily on children with strong psychic Talent.

Apparition—The shape formed by a ghostduring a manifestation. Apparitions usually mimic the shape of the dead person, but animals and objects are also seen. Some can be quite unusual. The Specterin the recent Limehouse Docks case manifested as a greenly glowing king cobra, while the infamous Bell Street Horror took the guise of a patchwork doll. Powerful or weak, most ghosts do not (or cannot) alter their appearance. Changersare the exception to this rule.

Aura—The radiance surrounding many apparitions. Most auras are fairly faint, and are seen best out of the corner of the eye. Strong, bright auras are known as other-light. A few ghosts, such as Dark Specters, radiate black auras that are darker than the night around them.

Bone Man*—Name given to a particular variety of Type One ghost, probably a sub-type of Shade. Bone Men are hairless, emaciated forms, with skin clinging to their skulls and rib cages. They glow with a bright, pale other-light. Though superficially similar to some Wraiths, they are always passive and generally somewhat dismal.

Chain net—A net made of finely spun silverchains; a versatile variety of Seal.

Changer**—A rare and dangerous Type Two ghost, powerful enough to alter its appearance during a manifestation.

Chill—The sharp drop in temperature that occurs when a ghostis near. One of the four usual indicators of an imminent manifestation, the others being malaise, miasma, and creeping fear. Chill may extend over a wide area, or be concentrated in specific cold spots.

Cluster—A group of ghostsoccupying a small area.

Cold Maiden*—A gray, misty female form, often wearing old-fashioned dress, seen indistinctly at a distance. Cold Maidens radiate powerful feelings of melancholy and malaise. As a rule, they rarely draw close to the living, but exceptions have been known.

Corpse-bell—A deep-toned bell rung in churches to announce funerals.

Creeping fear—A sense of inexplicable dread often experienced in the build-up to a manifestation. Often accompanied by chill, miasma, and malaise.

Curfew—In response to the Problem, the British Government enforces nightly curfews in many inhabited areas. During curfew, which begins shortly after dusk and finishes at dawn, ordinary people are encouraged to remain indoors, safe behind their home defenses. In many towns, the beginning and end of the night’s curfew are marked by the sounding of a warning bell.

Dark Specter**—A frightening variety of Type Two ghostthat manifests as a moving patch of darkness. Sometimes the apparitionat the center of the darkness is dimly visible; at other times the black cloud is fluid and formless, perhaps shrinking to the size of a pulsing heart, or expanding at speed to engulf a room.