CHESS

Chapter Four

The three most terrifying words I'd ever heard escaped the lips of Nightshade. And I hated it, because it terrified me:

"A donae understand."

Spot was pissed as hell, pacing back and forth, muttering in Gaelic, but even I, who understood the language, couldn't understand what the hell he was talking about. He wasn't making any sense, and I felt terrible. Why did everyone have to worry about me like this? It wasn't fair.

"What do you mean, Night?" Silver asked, the brave one. I couldn't speak. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. How could she not understand?

"A mean," she said, tossing a worried sideways glance at Spot. "It does nae make any sense. The letters on the hearts do nae even spell anything."

There had been four more hearts that came to me in the past two days, wrapped up so nicely, with letters carved into them, clear as day. It made me sick, and it made me scared. Someone was after me, and I didn't want it to be Johnny. Spot said before that Johnny wouldn't kill me, because he was a coward, but now I wasn't so sure. And it looked to me as if Spot wasn't sure himself, and I didn't like that.

She spread out the piece of paper again, with her lovely penmanship scrawled across it. The five letters were there:

A-S-I-L-E

It made no sense. It didn't even spell anything. Silver and I leaned in to look and then sighed at the same time, sitting back.

"It doesnae make any sense," Night repeated.

"We all know who it is." Spot's voice was a bark and it made all three of us jump at its severity. "So let's go and soak the shit out of the Bronx."

"We can't do that, Spot," Silver said calmly.

"Why the hell not, Harris? Someone is obviously threatening my girl, and when you threaten her, you threaten Brooklyn. Or didja forget where ya loyalty lies?" Spot hissed and continued pacing.

"Because, Spot," Silver said, glancing up at him, not willing to get angry and make matters worse. "We can't just run into the Bronx half-cocked and start soaking. You of all people know that. Ain't good technique."

"To hell with technique!" Spot threw his hands in the air, and I was almost positive that he might start growling. "This ain't no game. They can't fuck with my girl, Silver. I don't take that lyin' down. They need an attitude make over. They obviously have forgotten who they's messin' with."

I stood up and stood in the way of his pacing. He glared at me and walked around me to continue.

"Spot, I know you're mad—" I started gently.

"Damn right I'se mad!" he shouted.

I put my hand on his chest, peering up at him calmly from under my hat, waiting for him to calm down. His whole body relaxed physically which would've been funny had this not been so serious. He looked up at me and I saw the weariness in his eyes, the way his brows knotted together with worry. He watched me watch him, knowing what I saw.

"I am mad," he said, much more calmly. "But this isn't somethin' I'm takin' lightly. There's someone that's gettin' his kicks off scarin' ya and I don't take that well."

I knew why he was getting so pissed. He didn't want me to live in fear anymore. Fear of everything. He didn't want me to look over my shoulder or jump at every single sound, like I used to. He wanted me to be safe, so he could fulfill his promise to his father and probably be able to sleep at night. But this wasn't helping things.

"Spot, I'm fine," I said, mostly to convince myself. "It's all right. There's no good reason for you to be pissed. Nothing's happened. I'm right here."

He nodded. "Yeah, for now you're here. For now."

I sighed, indignant, but I sat back down beside Silver on my bed. He paced for a few more minutes, thinking.

"We ain't telling Jack about this. Not yet. I want to see if any more of those… things come," Spot decided, after a while, his voice considerably less caustic.

Nightshade nodded and stood up. "Let me know the second any more come. A'd like tae help," she said and then left the room when she earned Spot's weary nod of agreement.

"Silver," Spot said, when Night left the room. Silver looked up expectantly. "If any more hearts come, we'll have to get the help of the mud larks. If things get any more out of hand, Angel is gonna have to go into hiding."

Silver nodded dutifully and then took a half step towards his leader, like he wanted to comfort him, but Spot waved him off, stalking to the window, pulling a freshly rolled cigarette from his trouser pocket. Spot Conlon only smoked when he was pissed.

"Come on, Ang," Silver said, pulling me gently from the room. Spot didn't object and I didn't expect him to. I closed the door behind me and followed Silver back down the stairs.

"Silver, what is a mud lark?" I asked quietly.

Silver smiled at me. "Sewage rats," he explained. "They live in the sewers, scouring it for money or interesting things they can trade for dough. They live under Brooklyn, actually. Spot only asks for their help when things get really bad."

"Can we trust them?" I asked.

"Yeah, they may live dirty, but they'se loyal as hell to us after we helped them fend off some intruders down there." Silver shrugged. "They don't like coming to the surface, as they calls it, but they owe us."

The boys started a card game but I wasn't in the right mind of games right now. I told Silver I was going for a walk for a little while, and hugged him goodbye. I donned my tweed coat and gloves, wrapped my scarf up nice and tight around my neck, pulled my boots on and left the Lodging House.

I stuffed my fists into my coat pockets, trying to sink further into the warmth of my scarf. The cold air was biting as always but I straightened myself up, squinting as the snow began to fall.

The streets were abnormally bare, most likely because it was nearing dusk and the air was getting colder by the second. Nobody wanted to be out walking at this time of the evening, plus with it being so frigid. But the cold air kept my senses about me, which gave me time to think. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Johnny, or someone from the Bronx, was sending those hideous little gifts to me. But I still didn't know the reason why Spot and Johnny were fighting.

I hadn't asked before, because I felt it wasn't really any of my business. Spot had a life that I was not a part of for a long time; so much could have happened in that time. I knew that, and I respected his privacy. Some things I didn't need to know. Perhaps I was still a bit naïve to ways of the street, even with my pick pocketing 'skills'. I wondered if I should ask Spot about the thing with Johnny. Now seemed a fabulous time to ask him about it.

But would he answer me? Or would he make up some reason that wasn't the real reason? I hadn't any reason to mistrust him. He and I had gotten along swimmingly since the moment we got back together near the end of the summer.

I was pulled rather abruptly from my thoughts when a hand shot out and gripped my elbow. I was yanked into an alleyway and I glared blindly into the dark.

"Silver, this is not a good time to be messin' around," I warned him.

"Angel, it's me. Dodger. Dodger McCarne."

I took a step back and crossed my arms, my eyes adjusting to the shadows as I realized that it was indeed Dodger. What the hell was he still doing here?

"I thought you skipped town years ago," I said shortly.

"Jersey City wasn't all it was cracked up to be," Dodger said, smiling wryly. "You grew up, though, Angel."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm here to warn ya, Angel. I know the Bronx has been teasin' ya, and I'm here to tell ya: turn yourself in now."

I frowned. "How do you know about what's going on between us and the Bronx?"

Dodger smiled. "I know as much as I needs to, Angel."

That was not going to suffice it with me. "Why in the blue hell should I turn myself in? I ain't no prize, Dodge."

"Angel, ya ain't listenin' to me!" he insisted and pushed me back against the brick wall. I glared at his hands on my shoulders and then up at him. "I'm tellin' ya as a friend: turn yourself in."

I continued to glare. "We were never friends, Dodger."

"Then as one newsie to another!" he hissed impatiently. "Listen, Angel. There's a huge ass bounty on your head. This ain't no game. It's the real world. Whoever captures you…"

He stopped and I frowned. "Whoever captures me… what?"

"Whoever captures you," he said, pausing and glancing away nervously. "Gets a piece of you once Johnny is finished."

I steeled myself as I felt the rush of frigid air seep into my bones under my tweed coat. I felt very, very cold, and very, very scared. I shrugged his hands from my arms.

"Thanks for the tip-off, Dodge, but I have to get back to Spot," I said, eager to get off the streets.

I walked around him, hauling ass a bit since now I was scared. I stuffed my fists into my coat pockets and shuddered slightly, glancing around slightly, just in case.

"Trust no one, Angel! Anyone could be workin' for Johnny!" Dodger called after me.

I spent the jog back to the Lodging House composing my emotions. I decided that I would tell no one of my encounter with Dodger McCarne. I was selfish; I didn't want Spot to get even more pissed and start swinging fists. I wanted to avoid a confrontation when there needed to be none. I just decided that I would always be with someone when I walked out, which wasn't a big problem.

I sold papers with Silver every day, and when I wasn't in Manhattan, I was slinking around Brooklyn with the King himself. I was hardly ever alone, which didn't matter to me much anyways. I'd rather be with my friends than by myself nowadays.

Playing martyr wasn't really my style, though. I wasn't noble in the least, and I definitely wasn't the type to go down swinging to save someone else's skin before my own. I was a selfish, teenage girl and I was okay with that. But Sean was different. I would step in front of a bullet for him without a second thought. I just cared too much. I loved him. Nothing wrong with loving someone, and wanting to do anything you could for them.

I supposed it was noble of me, sort of, but I didn't feel noble. If anything, I felt satisfyingly selfish. I'd come to terms with the fact that I was selfish a long, long time ago. And I was okay with it. I actually preferred being selfish, really. Selfishness was a more satisfying feeling than nobility was. I smirked, thinking of the inscription that I would have on m grave: Alyssa Mae O'Rourke; Queen of the Selfish (and Brooklyn).

I shrugged out of my coat once I returned to the Lodging House, hanging it on my usual hook between Spot's coat and Silver's coat. I smiled, wondering why the hell I was always in between those two. If it wasn't one boy busting heads to save my ass, it was the other. I supposed that would never change, no matter what.

"Angelface!" Silver crowed, motioning me over. I shuffled over to him after stepping out of my boots and he tugged me down on his knee.

I smiled at him. "You've been drinking."

"Have not, m'dear," he replied cheekily.

I rolled my eyes. "Where is Spot?"

"His Royal Asshole-ness is on the fire escape."

I flicked his cap off and then headed up the stairs. I hated seeing Spot in this sulky typed mood, so I decided to take it upon myself to fix it with the only sure-fire way I knew of. I smirked slightly as I trudged down the rows of bunks and into Spot's room, gaining more confidence with every step. I frowned, though, when I realized the window was open, and then shuddered since the room was abnormally frigid.

Was he off his rocker?

I slid out the window onto the fire escape, watching him smoke for a moment. He didn't look back at me, and I wondered for a moment if hew knew I was there at all.

"I really ain't in the mood for your shit, Silver," he said harshly.

Okay. Wondering over.

I ignored his callous words and sat down behind him and tugged his cap off gently, placing it on my own head.

"Silver, what the hell—?" He turned slightly and we watched each other for a long moment before he turned back around and leaned into the vee of my legs.

Taking this as a good sign, I leaned forward, draping my ams across his chest, my fingers absently playing with the skeleton key around his neck. I rested my chin on top of his head and he sighed.

"You're not wearing a coat," I said quietly, tenderly running my fingers through his hair. I was really worried about him. He was acting so strange.

"Oh, yeah? Didn't notice," he muttered, no humor in his voice.

He flicked the cigarette away from him and I leaned in against him, my cheek pressed against his ear. He gripped my hand and we stayed like that for a long time, enjoying the innocence of the moment. This was our calm before the storm, just us, together. As corny as it was, I hoped I was helping. I was terrible with comforting people.

I had never seen him act this way before, though. He was usually so sure of himself, the confident quirk of his mouth, the cocky-ass nod of his head, his arrogant stance. But this man, sitting against me, frowning and looking down-trodden, was not the man I knew well. I didn't like it. But I was going to fix it.

"Come inside with me," I invited quietly.

"Angel, I ain't really in the mood to play cards or drink or be around the boys," he said, sounding weary.

"I didn't mean come downstairs. Just… come inside. It's cold out, and getting colder," I said gently. "Please, Sean." I think it was the name that worked it over for him.

Leaning back, he stood up and I followed him back into his room. Turning slightly to watch when he planted himself heavily on the edge of my bed, I then closed the window and locked it before returning to him. I sat down at his feet and ignored his burning, questioning gaze on the top of my head.

"Angel, what are you doing?" he asked but I ignored him, unlacing his shoes and pulling them off his feet and then went after his socks. I placed the shoes side by side near the wall and stuffed his socks into them.

Continuing to ignore him, I stood up and leaned over him slightly, tugging his shirt from his trousers. He gripped my hand and I looked down at him curiously.

"Stop it," he said, but there was quiet amusement in his eyes. I was winning this battle, and I wasn't about to stop now.

I tossed him an amused look of my own and slid into his lap carefully, nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt. I pushed the sleeves from his shoulders and ignored the stiffness in his body, pressing my lips carefully against the hollow of his throat. He made a strangled noise, and I took it as consent, moving my mouth to his shoulder, placing a rather deliberate kiss there.

His whole body shuddered once and then he pushed me away. I stood up, not even missing a beat.

"Baby, ya gotta stop that," he said hoarsely.

I was enjoying myself much too much to 'stop that' so I walked to his bed, grabbing the warm afghan laying on top, walking it back to where he was sitting. I was enjoying his flustered look, so I pulled my trousers off as usual and climbed back into his lap, wrapping the blanket around the both of us.

"Are you ordering me, Conlon?" I teased him, setting my head down on his shoulder. "I really don't like being ordered around, Spot."

"Angel, I know what ya doin' and I want ya to stop," he said, still holding himself stiff against me.

"You're still orderin' me, Spotty." I ran my hand against his arm and felt, and watched, him shudder.

"I mean it, baby. Stop." He continued to protest, but I was having none of it.

A slow, saucy smile crept to my lips and I leaned up to his ear. "This would be so much nicer if you played along," I whispered and then bit his earlobe playfully.

It was like the dam broke inside him, because a shocked cry escaped my lips when his hands slid immediately under my shirt, pressing against the heat of my lower back. Shuddering slightly, I leaned back, which made him drag me back against him, his mouth finding mine. He kissed me for an eternity, getting everything out of him, before he gripped my hips and pushed me back a little bit, to get himself to stop.

Pulling me back, he panted quietly against my shoulder and I smiled smugly, resettling my head on his shoulder, waiting for him to get over himself.

"So do you feel better?" I asked coyly.

He groaned and then bit my neck. I shrieked in surprise and flew backwards onto my backside, pulling him with me since we were wrapped up in the afghan. A full, honest laugh escaped him and I smiled at him when he gripped my hand from between us and kissed it gently.

"Yes, I am."

D'you just love the fluff in this chapter? I do. I couldn't resist. I wanted to give Spot and Angel some sweetness, since it's going to suck later on for them. But that's okay. Lawl. I hope you guys liked it. It was fun to write. Woot for my flustered Spot!muse!

Oh, and BTW, send luff to Elaine Vivian who pretty much demanded another chapter, thus this chapter is up a few days before I wanted to put it up. Woot for demanding things of me! She gets an extra Spot!muse hug. Just go easy on him. He's a bit flustered. :)

CTB!

xx Wicked

P.S. - My CC is on my profile. Make sure to send your characters via PM. I hate it when I have a cluttered review page with OCs. So all OCs sent to ANY of my review pages will not be used. Anyone who sends me an OC to steal gets a Spot!muse hug! :)))