The Whispering Skull (Lockwood & Co., #2)

by Jonathan Stroud

He was standing with his sword held ready: tall, slim, as nonchalant as ever, watching the slow approach of the second Visitor. The lantern light played on his thin, pale face, catching the elegant outline of his nose, and his flop of ruffled hair. He wore that slight half-smile he reserved for dangerous situations: the kind of smile that suggests complete command.

literally my type to a T

His coat flapped slightly in the night breeze. As usual, just looking at him gave me confidence.

It looked like a baby yak had fallen on him from on high.

Lockwood strolled out of his room wearing the crispest, most dapper tuxedo and black bow tie I’d ever seen. His hair was combed back, his rapier sparkling; it hung at his side on a silver chain. “Lucy, you look delightful,” he said. “George, you’ll have to do. Oh, here’s something for you, Luce. Might go well with that excellent dress.” He took my hand and placed in it a necklace of pretty silver links, with a small diamond suspended as a pendant. It was really very beautiful. “What?” I stared at it. “Where’d you get this?” “Just something I had. I suggest you close your mouth when you wear it—it’s more elegant that way. Right, I can hear the taxi honking. We have to go.”

crying

“When this is over,” I said, “I think you need to have a word with George.” Lockwood was at the door, peering out into the passage. “What for? He’s fine.” “I think he’s feeling left out. It’s always us that does this kind of job, isn’t it, while he has to hang around outside.” “We’ve all got our talents,” Lockwood said, “and George is simply less good at this stuff than you are.

lucy and george my found family babies

Can you imagine him climbing up here? That doesn’t mean he hasn’t got a vital role today. If he and Flo mess up their timing, if their boat capsizes, or they don’t find the right windows or something, you and I are quite possibly going to die.” He paused. “You know, this conversation’s making me slightly nervous. Come on, we need to find our way downstairs.”

i feel like this is the first time im seeing lockwood admit to being nervous

We had been so long in the pursuit of this object that it had acquired in my mind an almost mythic weight and dread.

mr stroud's prose

“One of us could fight him,” Lockwood said, “but then we’d still be in the same position.” He looked over at the river. “Whereas…” “Yeah,” I said. “But, Lockwood, I really can’t.” “It’ll be all right. Flo’s flaky, but we can trust her about some things. Water depth is one of them.” “We make such a habit of doing this,” I said. “I know. But it’s the last time.” “Promise?” But we were already running across the bumpy lead, building up as much speed as we could. Then we jumped out together, hand in hand.

when willit be me

You can see it in their eyes. Especially the other one—he’s desperate to be enlightened. But Cubbins has the madness too. Did you not notice?” A whispered chuckle. “Perhaps you never look at him.”

im so glad this was included

Everything was laced with a coating of thin, gray dust. I thought of Joplin’s hair.

dandruff as foreshadowing is genuinely 500 IQ

“Can I just say,” Kipps growled, “that when I get out of this, I’m going to kick your idiot friend’s backside from here to Marylebone?”

so valid

Quill Kipps uttered a curse. “Agreement, my foot,” he muttered. “I don’t know what Cubbins thought he was up to, coming here in the first place, but they had some kind of argument in the church upstairs. One minute they were talking; all at once they were coming to blows.” He shook his head. “It was pathetic. The worst fight ever. They knocked one another’s glasses off, and spent half the time crawling around trying to find them. I’m surprised they didn’t pull each other’s hair.”

not kipps making me giggle

With his shuffling, round-shouldered gait, he pootled over to the table.

pootled mentioned once more

Joplin was back. He had a long pole, with a hook fixed to the end. “I showed you the error of your ways. I must say, you’ve disappointed me, Cubbins. You had such promise. Still, at least we sorted out our little disagreement, man to man.” He fingered his swollen nose. “Man to man, my eye,” Kipps snorted. “It was like seeing two schoolgirls squabbling over a scented pencil. You should have heard the squeals.”

WHY IS KIPPS SO FUNNY RN

George stood upright, brushed the hair away from his eyes, and winked at me. I still stared at him, dumbfounded. “George…” I stammered. “How—?” “Bit busy,” he said. “Ask me later.” He flung himself at Joplin.

okay cuz thats what im saying, y'all need to learn how to fight HUMANS like hands on hands

On impulse, I cleared my throat. “I want to thank you,” I said. “For what you did—in supporting me back there. And for going after George. I’m surprised, actually. After seeing you hightail it from the rats in Bickerstaff’s house, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d have the guts to do any of that.” Kipps gave a mirthless laugh; I waited for the inevitable acid retort. Instead, after a pause, he said quietly, “It’s easy to judge me now. But you don’t yet know what it’s like, the day your Talent starts to fade. You’ll still sense ghosts—you’ll know they’re present. But you won’t see or hear them properly anymore. You’ll get all the terror, without being able to do anything about it. Sometimes nerves will simply overwhelm you.”

YESSS IM SO GLAD WE'RE HEARING MORE ABT THIS