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❝ 07 , the next room❞

The British Archives had been completely useless which was unusual. They had found nothing that could indicate a spiritual presence at the house that could cause any sort of haunting. Especially not one that the couple had described. It didn't make much sense but the trio were obligated to go anyway. It was money. Money that they needed.

So, as the sun slowly began to set, they made their way up the street towards the house. The sun was setting earlier and earlier as the weeks drew on. The October air bit at their skin as they walked up to the front door. Lockwood knocked, as he always did and they could see someone approaching the door through the frosted glass.

When the door opened, a friendly brunette woman was standing in front of them. Her hair was around shoulder length, a full fringe. She had a button nose and a smile that made you feel safe. Demi was reminded of her mother but she put those thoughts to one side as she adjusted the rapier around her waist.

"Hello, Mrs Beaufort," Lockwood began. The charming smile on his lips, "Were you able to fill out the forms?" He asked. She nodded and called back for her husband to come to the door. He appeared with a suitcase dragged behind him and a collection of papers in his hand.

"I hope they help your investigation. We just want to make sure there's nothing here," She explained as Mr Beaufort handed over the stack of papers. Lockwood nodded, completely understanding and the trio stepped down from the stairs. The house was clearly a new build. It didn't have the same feeling of oldness as Portland Row and the houses simply looked entirely different. Demi wasn't sure if she liked it. She was used to old homes.

"If there's any presence, it will be gone by the morning, I can promise you that." Lockwood was a good businessman to give credit where it was due.

But as she watched him move with the elegance and suave he did, she couldn't help but think about how gorgeous he was and how much she wished he had snogged her at the British Archives the other day. It would have put an end to her mind's spiral but she knew they couldn't, "Enjoy your evening," Lockwood called before he then turned to his companions. The three of them headed into the house and George was quick to begin talking.

"I don't think this is a good idea. I should have done more research so we know what we're walking into. I didn't even get to look at what the land wa-" George began to complain as Demi shut the door behind the boys. But he was cut off by Lockwood turning on him and practically glaring.

"George, we're gonna be fine," He retorted. Demi glanced around the hallway and she couldn't feel anything yet. It felt a pretty average temperature and she headed through the hallway towards the first door. Lockwood had taken the other one and Demi shone her torch around. It wasn't quite nightfall yet but it was still relatively dark in the little house. No presence jumped out at her.

"Kitchen's this way," Lockwood called. Demi stepped out of the room and aimed her torch at the floor in front of her.

"Living room in there," She said. Lockwood nodded and she adjusted the bag in her hand before she glanced at George. He was walking cautiously around the last room and when Demi ducked her head in, he jumped at the new torchlight, "It's just the dining room and a bathroom in here," Demi called back. Lockwood then headed into the kitchen and Demi followed closely behind. George also came after them with a frown on his face.

He didn't seem entirely pleased about the case but he never really was. It was why they left him at home most of the time. Partly because he wanted to or preferred to be at Portland Row but also because he became stressed out easily when he didn't know enough. If it was just Lockwood and Demi, it was easier for everyone involved.

"Tea before we start?" Lockwood asked. Demi nodded her head and she leant against the counter. The kitchen was nice, newly renovated. The countertops were a sleek white marble and the cupboards were wooden. It was a dark brown wood and the contrast - in Demi's opinion - looked horrific. This couple didn't seem to make the smartest decisions.

"Where are the forms?" George asked from where he had perched on the counter. Lockwood pulled them from his coat pocket and offered them out. George silently read through them as Lockwood pulled his coat off and draped it on the side. The kettle was already boiling and Demi pulled out the mugs and biscuits from her bag. She preferred bringing her own mug. It didn't feel as rude.

Demi offered George a biscuit but he waved her off. She then grabbed the packet of gingernuts from the bottom of her bag and took one out. She nibbled on it as she glanced over at Lockwood. He was mulling over one of the pages he'd kept from the stack of forms.

"The footsteps are heard upstairs, mostly, but Mr Beaufort seems to think there's something in the dining room," Lockwood explained. Demi nodded and she glanced over at the window. The curtains had been drawn but she could see the sun had now dipped below the horizon. It kept them in almost complete darkness.

So, Demi lit the lamp and placed it on the counter. It bathed them all in a soft orange light and she sent Lockwood a small smile. He seemed thankful for the new light. He flipped over the form but when he found nothing else of interest, he passed it to George. George had been silent the entire time, nervously reading the paper.

"I'm gonna check the dining room again. I'll be back in a minute," Demi decided as she pushed herself off the counter. Lockwood looked at her with a slightly concerned look on his face. She sent him a reassuring smile, "I'll scream if anything goes wrong." Lockwood stared at her, clearly unamused.

"Checks for any death-glows," George said, finally looking up from his papers. Demi nodded her head and sauntered out of the room. One hand held the torch and she shone it around the hall while the other hovered near her side, ready to draw her rapier if anything went completely wrong. She knew it wouldn't. It was too early in the night.

It was so quiet as she stepped through into the dining room. The room was oblong, taking up most of the right side of the house and the table was the main centrepiece. Enough room for at least eight people and there was a rather obnoxious candelabra in the centre. It felt like she was walking into a mediaeval feast hall. Her own inner musings made her smile, keeping at bay any lingering effects of the Visitors.

Her free hand moved out and she felt along the dining table. It helped her connect with the house but there was nothing. No feeling in her fingertips and certainly no noises. She couldn't feel any sort of waves of sound which was good. She didn't want any more screaming, especially when the boys were in the other room and away from her.

As she rounded the table, she swore she saw a death-glow near the floorboards but when she glanced back, there was nothing. Her sight wasn't all that good but she should have been able to make something out in the corner of her eye. It was there for a moment and then vanished..

Lockwood needed to take a look around later and he would be able to tell them concretely if there was anything. His sight was better than Demi's by miles. She had never met anyone as strong as Lockwood with Sight.

But once she had surveyed the dining room and checked all the paintings that hung awkwardly on the walls, she was sure that there was no source in the room. So, she headed back to the kitchen where George and Lockwood had been quietly spatting since she had left.

"Letting her go out on her own is only going to end badly."

"Oh come on George, she's in the next room."

"And that's enough for something to go wrong. Her Touch is temperamental!"

"It was a one-off. She's not temperamental."

"You don't know what triggers it."

"Neither does she so we can't stop her from doing her job."

Demi could hear them going back and forth. Anthony was coming to her defence surprisingly but she was confused about what they were even talking about. They weren't talking about the house. That much was obvious. It almost seemed like they were talking about her. They were definitely talking about her.

"The dining-room is clear of sources," Demi interrupted them as she stepped through into the kitchen. George's head snapped up and he sent her an awkward look. She smiled softly before she reached out for the mug of tea. It was warm compared to the house that seemed to have become considerably colder without the sun.

"Good. Do you want to go upstairs? George can check the rooms down here?" Lockwood asked as he looked over at George and then back to Demi.

"Sure but you might wanna take a look in the dining room. I think there might be a death glow," Demi responded as she sipped more tea. Then she picked up the ginger nut from the side and dipped it in her tea before she took a bite out of it, "But I'll finish my tea and then we can go," She responded. Lockwood nodded.

George gave Lockwood a glare and Lockwood cocked an eyebrow. "What were you talking about while I was in the dining room?" It seemed like an innocent enough question but George seemed to freeze up at her words. Lockwood didn't lose his composure, though he never did.

"Nothing important. George was just worried about what we'd find," Lockwood's response was quick and he had that distracting grin on his lips. It almost made Demi believe him. She then placed her mug of tea down. She would rather be investigating than standing awkwardly in here. So she stepped forward and grabbed a few salt bombs, slipping them into the pocket of her jacket before she nodded towards the door.

"Ready?" She asked. Lockwood glanced at her mug before he looked back at her. But Demi was already walking away so he was quick to follow suit, no room to argue that now wasn't the time.

The pair headed upstairs and it was only when they were in the hallway at the top of the stairs - out of earshot of George - that Demi turned on Lockwood, "Did you tell George something about me?" Anthony furrowed his eyebrows.

"About what?" He asked, purposefully evading what they both knew. Demi sighed, rubbing her hands over her face before looking around the landing. Four doors which meant four rooms to look through.

"I heard the end of your conversation," She muttered, the torchlight being the only thing that lit them up. Anthony sighed and he glanced around the hallway before his shoulders dropped,

"It was nothing. We were just talking," Lockwood dismissed. Demi raised an eyebrow, not believing that. The silence seemed to draw out between them and when it seemed that he wasn't going to give her any answers, she decided to get on with the job.

It was frustrating but if he didn't want to talk, that was up to him. She'd find out sooner or later. Rather than looking at Lockwood, she moved past him to go to the nearest room. He watched her for a moment before following her to the doorway, "Dem." His words were soft as she stood in the empty bedroom, checking for death-glows. There weren't any immediate sensations and as she ran her fingers across the objects in the room, nothing popped out to her.

She briefly met Lockwood's gaze and he looked a little guilty. That confirmed what she suspected then.

"George is just worried. We'll be fine, okay?" He said. Demi nodded and put her hands in the pockets of her jacket. And she did believe him. It was fine. She knew that she was fine and whatever had happened at the other house had been a one-off. It wasn't anything to worry about but they had been talking about her and it. That worried her. She didn't want her team to lose trust in her or for her to lose control like last time.

That couldn't happen again.

She had been controlling her abilities so much better than last time but the house with the wailing lady was too close. Far too close for comfort.

Then she felt Lockwood take her hand and he looked down at her. She felt like he was gazing into her soul and she tried her best to smile but the anxiety painted her features still even if her cheeks had turned a soft pink colour. Her smile turned bashful and the darkness felt like a gift. Demi tried to ignore the fact that he was holding her hand. Her mind was reeling from it all.

"He has nothing to be worried about. The only way we're gonna get hurt is if you come up with another stupid plan," Demi mumbled out. Lockwood chuckled softly and she glanced around. Her eyes had somewhat adjusted to the gloom and she could make out the wry smile on his lips. He squeezed her hand before he let go.

"My plans are never stupid," He argued. Demi tilted her head slightly at that assertion. It was bollocks and they both knew it. His plans had nearly got them killed too many times.

"We should start looking around." Lockwood nodded and then the two headed around the rest of the house.

There was nothing. It had been a complete dud. Demi wasn't able to feel much throughout the entire house and other than the possible death-glow she had seen in the dining room, they knew that there was nothing. A complete waste of their time and resources. Lockwood was frustrated but he tried not to show it as they headed back to Portland Row.