trigger warnings: slight gore, blood, descriptive language
★。／｜＼。★
CAM'S POINT OF VIEW
CAM quickly shut the door behind him as he and Lucy entered the basement. The room had a slight chill to it, but that was nothing unusual.
The ectoplasmic skull sat quietly on the table in the corner: it hadn't move at since he'd last been down.
As the two approached the jar, Lucy cast a glance sideways to him, "Do you want to or . . .?" she gestured to the small iron lever on the lid.
The boy breathed out, not removing his eyes from the visitor, "I can," he said not as confidently as he could've been.
In a quick matter of seconds he pulled the valve forward and then twisted it right, taking a step backwards next to Lucy again, feeling a chill up his spine.
Oh, this could go so wrong. He worried.
"You spoke to us," Lucy told the ghost, confusion laced in her voice, as well anxiety.
"You," it breathed out. Cam's eyes widened, "Oh you have got to be joking," he muttered.
"You. Come closer," the skull almost whispered. Cam wondered if it was any more surprised than them that they could hear it.
He took a few hesitant steps forward, glancing at Lucy who stayed back slightly.
"Thank you,"
"You can hear me," it almost sounded relieved.
"You can talk to us," Cam questioned, frowning slightly in confusion, but the anxiety hadn't left.
"No, no, no, no, no. We must be losing it Cam," the redheaded girl panicked, turning away from the ghost with her hands in her hair.
"No," it disagreed, "Finding it. I've been so lonely,"
"No, but this is an actual conversation!" Lucy exclaimed, turning around sharply to face it, "You're a Type Three!"
"Yes. So dangerous," it whispered. Cam scoffed under his breath, "Yeah we know that,"
"Not me. Them, if they find out," Cam's brow furrowed as he glanced over at Lucy and then the visitor again, "Who finds out?"
"The boy has secrets. The door,"
Lockwood.
Cam shook his head, "No, if there was something dangerous behind that door, then why the hell would anyone live in this house?"
"I can explain," it continued, "But not in this jar. Let me out!" it pleaded to them both, but looking directly at Cam who was closest.
The boy raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "Even if I'm slightly crazy, I'm not an idiot. You can stay in that jar for the rest of anyone's life, thanks,"
"But I've so much to show you both, teach you. Trust me," the skull began to persuade, talking in the sort of tone you'd get from people trying to sell ads at your door.
Cam looked over at Lucy, who was no more impressed by the skull than he was. He thought that it might be best if they silenced it by pulling the lever again. Simply by looking at her emotions, he didn't ask, only acted.
He walked up to the large iron jar, reaching for the lever before staggering back as the ectoplasm glowed brighter, and the skull's expression grew nasty and frightening.
"Where have you been!" it cried out, "Working, at the cemetery," he answered quickly in panic, looking over at Lucy who'd stepped forwards in his direction earlier, "Which cemetery?"
The girl frowned, "Why should that matter to you?"
"You've both been near power," it realised, "What? How do you know that?" the girl asked it.
"Tell me where you've been. Tell me! Death is coming!" the skull screamed at them, it's mouth widening, displaying what was left of the teeth that had once been there. They were hideous and yellow, but they were only small nibs, most of the tooth being rotten away.
"You're demented!" Cam exclaimed as the visitor repeated the statement madly.
"Death is coming!"
"Death is coming!"
"Death is coming!"
"Shut up! Please just shut up!" Lucy shouted as she lurched at the jar, pulling the valve to shut it off.
Cam watched as the ectoplasm calmed down again, and the visitors eyes squinted at them as if they had wronged it.
Cam snapped his head up at the door as he heard the front door shut rather loudly, followed by an unimpressed, loud voice.
"I'm thinking the other's must be home now," he told Lucy, who hummed quietly in response, "You think?"
Another loud voice came from the floor above. Cam had his bets on the fact that Annie and Lockwood had gotten into another disagreement.
"We need to show them this, Cam," Lucy spoke up, referring to the skull.
★。／｜＼。★
Jar in hand, Cam and Lucy stormed into the library, interrupting whatever the three had been arguing over.
"What happened to you then?" Lockwood demanded the both of them as Cam sat the skull down on the small magazine table in the corner, "I told you two to watch him,"
"The skull, it was talking just right now," Cam completely ignored the boys question, taking a step back, ending up next to Annie, who gave him a confused look.
He watched as the other two looked at the jar with puzzled expressions before looking at him again, "And not just some repeated death loop. A proper, full-blown conversation," he added, "With both of us," he gestured to Lucy.
Cam didn't fail to notice the exasperated expression that crossed Lockwood's face.
"Is it talking to you now?" Annie asked them both, not in a 'you're fucking crazy' way, just more or less confused.
"No, no. No, look, right, we know how this might sound, but it happened," Lucy shook her head, crossing over the room to the table, causing Lockwood to walk over next to George to move out of the way.
"I'm telling the truth. It knows and used both of our names," Lucy explained to them all. Cam had discussed with her in the cab ride home what he'd remembered during the job at the cemetery. He'd explained how he could remember the skull calling him the previous day, and how his ears had started hearing that dreadful ringing.
"Luce is telling the truth," he told the group, glancing at Lockwood, who didn't look amused with what he was saying, "It used her name yesterday while she was downstairs, causing her too faint. And it used my name, which is why I got up and left, because it was calling me," He stood next to Lucy as he backed her up.
"That's impossible," the boy denied, "No it's not. Marissa Fittes did it," the girl quipped back.
The boy sighed, lowering his head in incredulity.
"Right, this valve yeah? You turn it, you twist it, and then it lets its voice out," they pointed at the iron valve before turning to George, who had a sceptical expression as he clutched his notebook.
"Come on George, you have to believe us?"
Cam glanced over at Annie, who'd been a bit too quiet, "Annie?" He watched as the girl and George shared an unsure look.
"Tell them about the room. I'm sure they'd love to hear about it," he heard a voice say. He snapped his head at the jar; the valve was closed still.
Maybe I really am going nuts.
However, either way he wondered if the skull's idea wasn't such a bad one. They — or maybe Lockwood at least — might believe the two.
"It said that you had something dangerous hidden in that room. The one on the landing," he commented, turning to Lockwood who shifted on his feet, avoiding his look.
"You do, don't you? Because if so, then it proves that we have a real, sentient Type Three on our hands,"
"And that we're-" Lucy began before George spoke over her, "Clinically insane?" he suggested, getting a knock on the shoulder from Annie.
"Really fucking powerful!" she exclaimed loudly, stepping slightly closer to George.
"That's not just a nick," Lockwood told Cam, who glanced down at his blood stained sleeve and hand; he'd been too distracted to focus on it or the pain, "You need to get that looked at. Could be some toxins, that got into your blood,"
"No. No! I am not poisoned, or delusional. And Lucy is not going crazy!" he argued, his voice raising slightly.
"George, look at us!" the redhead exclaimed, knocking him on the shoulder as he looked at one of the books on the bookshelf. He looked at her with a stunned expression, "Lucy don't," Annie said quietly, moving over to the boy.
"This is real!" Lucy exclaimed, pointing sharply at the jar.
Cam watched as Annie and George shared a look before the boy turned to Lockwood again, "Lockwood, this is what happens when you let people accessorise with sources. You let Lucy pass because you thought she'd bring us more media attention, and you let Cam slip by too because you like the way he looks at you. But Annie and I are the ones that are distracted,"
That's what the yelling was about earlier. Cam realised.
Lockwood looked uncomfortable as he looked away from George, "Yeah, I don't know what you're talking about,"
"Yeah, sure," Annie muttered as she left the room with George.
Cam breathed in then out quietly, letting more air into his lungs which were struggling to keep up with the combination of the yelling and binder usage.
Lucy turned to Lockwood, a desperate look on her face, "Lockwood, please you have to believe us,"
"You're not Marissa Fittes,"
"Why? 'Cause you can't handle being our Tom Rotwell? Second best?" she defended, no longer yelling and now looking at the boy in almost annoyance and disbelief.
She scoffed as the boy looked away from her, "It is, isn't it? Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, before exiting the room, leaving Cam with him.
"You know that we're not lying," Cam told him, analysing the direction his eyes were looking, "And you know that I'm right about whatever is in that bloody room,"
"You are talking, about something you do not understand," the boy defended quickly, his voice progressively getting louder, "You and Lucy can hear visitors better than anyone I've ever met, but you cannot talk to them, and if you ever mention that room ever again, you are done here,"
Cam looked at him with a stunned face, not expecting those words to leave his lips.
"So I'm just a liar?" he said quietly before leaving the boy to stand in the room on his own. He didn't try to apologise, try to take back what he'd said, he just stood there in the silence.
★。／｜＼。★
Cam sat at the edge of Lucy's bed, fiddling with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. A few fingers already had specks of blood sitting on them from this habit. He'd started doing this when he was younger, as a 'coping mechanism' when he was reminded of how his hands resembled his fathers.
It sounded stupid, and Cam knew that, but he didn't want to look at a part of himself and be reminded of his father.
He looked up and away from his hands, quickly wiping them along his jeans — which were black so the blood didn't really show up on them unless you inspected them carefully — as he heard a knock on the door.
It couldn't have been Lucy, because she'd gone to talk to Annie only a minute ago. Annie hadn't necessarily stated whether she believed the two or not, so he assumed thats what the girl was talking to her about. He could be wrong of course.
He didn't expect Lockwood to be the one who came up the stairs however, he wasn't actually sure who he was expecting, but Lockwood wasn't who, that was for sure.
"Hi," he said softly as he reached the top of the stairs. Cam didn't say anything as he looked at him. He noticed the tray in the boys hands, glancing at the cut that he still hadn't done anything about.
"I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a uh, fully qualified doctor," he told the boy as he thought about his words.
"Good," Cam spoke quietly, "'Cause he was a massive prick to me just now,"
He watched as the boy nodded slightly, in shame maybe? Cam couldn't really tell, but he didn't think that he was angry anymore.
He sighed quietly too himself, under his breath, "Come on, then," he told him, causing the boy to look up again, "Bring it in,"
Cam moved over slightly, so that he was on the end of the bed instead of the side. He glanced over at the boy as he placed the tray down on the bed, sitting beside Cam, rubbing his hands over his knees nervously, "Uh, I'm not sure what I should . . ." He trailed off as Cam moved his left arm over so the boy could reach it.
He would've grimaced if he were on his own. The blood had dried up all over, and was crisp along his hands and fingers.
The blue shirt he was wearing was ruined now, having deep, crimson blood soaked across it, and it featured a massive hole where it would usually cover his wrist.
He hesitantly let the boy hold his hand gently so that he could clean the wound. Cam was always mildly surprised by how soft a grip Lockwood had at times.
Water was poured into a small dish, which the boy used to lightly wet a cloth, "This is going to hurt," he warned quietly, his eyes meeting Cam's.
"Thanks for the warning," he said quietly, watching as the boy gently dabbed the cloth over the wound, which picked up small bits of blood and dirt.
"I was uh, I was orphaned at the age of six," Lockwood spoke up, not looking at Cam as he did so. Cam looked up at him again, not expecting to hear those words: he didn't expect the boy to open up to him at all really. Not tonight.
"So uh," the boy struggled to find the right words, and Cam waited patiently. He'd promised.
"All I can say is I don't really enjoy talking about my past. And that's what's behind my door," Cam nodded in understanding: that was something he now knew that the two shared in common.
"I understand that," Cam told him softly, looking up at him for a split moment.
Lockwood cleared his throat, "And uh, you used it to convince me that, not only are you one of only three people in the history of the world, to be able to talk to ghosts, but that we might actually have a Type Three ghost in our house," he explained, glancing at Cam, "Two events with a one-in-a-billion probability. And the chances of you being right are-"
"I know. I wouldn't believe me either," he told the boy, watching as he grabbed one of the adhesive bandages, opening it with one hand, the other still holding onto his wrist gently.
"That's . . . not the problem," Lockwood disagreed softly, "The problem is, when you like the spotlight as much as I do, it's quite an adjustment to realise that the real reason that you might be here, is to shine it on somebody else,"
Cam's brow furrowed slightly, as he looked up at the boy again, who this time looked at him as well. The boy gave him a very small and meek smile, "You believe me?" Cam asked him quietly, getting a small nod from the boy, "I do. About everything," Cam felt the smallest smile come onto his face, and possibly a few stray tears, "Thanks,"
"You know I don't actually want the spotlight, right?" he asked quietly, "I know, it's maddening," the boy replied with a knowing smile. Cam almost laughed at the smile, but simply smiled back at him.
Cam thought for a moment, "When you uh, mentioned your parents and past, when I said that I understand, I meant it. Like, not just in a sympathetic kind of way, more of an empathetic one," he started to explain a bit. If he was ever going to open up at all about this topic, now might be the best chance.
"I lost my mum when I was much younger than now, maybe seven? Eight? Time back then was a chaotic blur," he recalled, remembering how some days time flew past and others it felt as if the torture of life couldn't end soon enough, "And my uh father, was an interesting character," he laughed the slightest bit, almost bitterly.
He glanced at the boy, pausing for a moment, unsure if he should've just kept his mouth shut, "Continue," Lockwood told him instead, being kind about it.
Cam nodded slightly, "Right. Well uh, I was really close with her, so losing her at that age wasn't that good for me, and it really took a toll on how my father acted. He'd never been pleasant to know, but before she left he was at least polite. Usually. But that stopped completely afterwards," the boy wondered what to mention without explaining his whole life story.
"But yeah, shit just got worse, so when my last contract ended, I came here instead of going 'home'," he summed up quietly, making eye contact with the brunette. There was no hatred or disgust in his eyes, which Cam sort of had been prepared for, even though he hadn't even told him much. He had a kind look instead. It made him feel safe. A very uncommon feeling for Cam.
"And you won't go back there," Lockwood reassured him softly, his hand which had never actually moved, grabbing his gently as his thumb rubbed Cam's hand, "I promise,"
Cam smiled slightly, "You make a lot of promises,"
"And I'll keep them all," Lockwood said confidently, still speaking in a calming tone though, "I believe you," Cam said softly.
There were a few minutes of silence, but comfortable ones. At some point, Cam would've sworn that their faces were only inches apart, but nothing happened after that. Eventually they pulled apart again.
"So, um, what did the skull say?" Lockwood asked.
"Oh, right," Cam thought as he rubbed his hands anxiously along his jeans, "It said something about how he could, uh, smell power on Lucy and I. He spiralled and went rather nasty on us before he went on to repeat a weird prophecy about death,"
"Prophecy of death?" he repeatedly doubtfully, "Yeah, I know, I know, big deal right? But he seemed really sure of it. We should probably tell George and Annie,"
The boy hummed quietly in agreement, "That would be best,"