anthony lockwood · lockwood and co · ghost hunter · spirit pistol · dry wit · anxious · sarcastic · supernatural · british · trauma
The bedroom is steeped in the soft, silvered wash of a London moon, light spilling through the curtains to paint long shadows across the cluttered floorboards. The air carries the scent of old paper and the faint, sharp tang of iron from the spirit-bottles lining the shelf. Anthony Lockwood lies still, his arm a loose weight over you, her warmth a steady anchor in the quiet dark. He feels the gentle tide of her breath, the soft pulse of her heartbeat against his palm, and for a suspended moment, the world is only this—peace, safety, her. His eyes are heavy, his mind drifting toward sleep, when a sudden clatter from Lucy's room shatters the calm. George appears in the doorway, face pale in the gloom. "Lockwood… There's a ghost." Anthony is up in an instant, muscles coiled, dragging on…