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The Type Three

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'Lockwood & Co. is a well respected psychic investigation agency. Looking for applicants under 15, preferably female. Two spots are open. Mail applications to 35 Portland Row.'

I shouldered my duffel bag and got out of the cab. I had already sent in my application, and had just arrived at 35 Portland Row. There was a sign that said


I walked up to the door and rang the bell. The door swung open, and I stepped inside.

"Hello." A short, but stout boy had opened the door. "Are you here for the job?"

"Yes." He pointed to a chair.

"I think Lockwood's almost done." I sat in the chair. A few seconds later, a girl ran out of the room. The boy motioned at the now open door. I stood up and entered the room. It looked like a sitting room, and a tall, slim boy was sitting on a couch, and next to him a girl was drawing something. The boy noticed me, and smiled.

"Hello, I'm Lockwood. This is Lucy Carlyle," he said, standing up. "And you are?"

"Uh. Marina Starfield." Lockwood invited me to sit down and I sat across from him and Lucy, a table in between us.

"Welcome, Ms. Starfield. So, your main talent is Touch?" I nodded. "All right. Will you tell us what psychic impressions you get from these objects."

In front of me was a cup, a brush, and a letter opener. I decided to start with the cup. I have extraordinary Touch, and I can sense weak emotions from an object or Source without touching it. In return, my Hearing and Sight aren't very good. As my hand neared the cup, I felt nothing. I picked the cup up, held it close to my face, far from my face. I felt nothing from the cup. After about five minutes, I gave up.

"I'm sorry, I don't sense anything from the cup." Lockwood locked at Lucy, and they both smiled.

"Good." Lockwood said. "That cup is not remarkably psychic in any way. It's the cup George puts his toothbrush in." I sighed in relief. All right. Onto the brush. The waves coming from the brush were happy, and as I picked it up, the feeling intensified. I was happy, laughing. Then a crushing fear. I gasped, and dropped the brush.

"Are you all right?" Lucy exclaimed. I nodded slowly.

"I'm very sensitive to psychic impressions, which can be good, but also bad. I sensed happy, then a strong sense of overwhelming fear." Lockwood nodded.

"The letter opener?" He prompted. Just looking at it, I could feel it. The air around the letter opener was thick with a suffocating anger. I steeled myself and picked it up. Anger. An intense anger, one of someone who has lost something irreplaceable. Or someone... I placed the letter opener down, my fingers shook slightly.

"Anger. Someone lost someone dear, and to cope, they are angry at the whole world. With an impression that strong, I'd say the owner was still alive." Lucy nodded, and Lockwood smiled.

"Very good, Ms. Starfield. You're hired."