Disclaimer: I do not own, nor stake any claim, to any of the original newsboy characters – they are the property of Disney. The main characters Stress and Diana (among others) belong to me. Any other character, when noted, is property of their respective owner.


a Maldição de Diabo

April 26, 2006


PART FOUR


She sat on the stool, perfectly poised, though she itched desperately to change from the starched white dress. From under the matching hat she pulled at a light brown curl. It fell from its pin. Her prim and demure grin widened a bit at that. Millie would be furious if she knew that her handiwork was wasted.

"Rhiannon, my love?" A young man, much taller and broader than she – and appearing to be at least five years older – moved forward, crossing in front of her. A frustrated expression crossed his handsome face and he hurriedly ran a thick hand through his short black hair. Rhiannon recognized his mannerisms – and what they meant – but she was not worried. He was not annoyed at her but at the delay in her engagement portrait. "I've been told that the camera is almost ready. Can you hold on for a little longer?"

She had been sitting on this exact stool, holding this ridiculous position, for the past two hours. Did he really want her to wait longer? "Of course, Paul," she replied, resuming her obedient smile. She would tell him her mind later that night, after they left the photographer's shop. That is, as long as her mother was not around. Morgana Daite was quite anxious to marry her only child off to a wealthy bachelor. And Paul Robbins, in her opinion, was that man.

It was a pity that Rhiannon did not agree. Jack did not either. Not that his opinion really mattered, though. He just liked to think it did.

Beyond the photographer, busy fussing with his equipment, Jack Kelly stood, tapping his boot impatiently against the wooden floor. Every moment he spent with Rhiannon during her wedding preparations, including this silly portrait, was a moment he was not spending on his search. Annoyed, he pulled his cowboy hat onto his head and yawned loudly. No one heard him but the girl.

Sighing, she looked past the camera, ignoring the discussion her fiancé was having with the photographer. She distinctly witnessed Paul handing a few crisp bills over to the round mustachioed man; no doubt he was trying to hurry up the process.

She tried not to let any expression of disgust cross her face. She hated how Paul flashed his money around in order to get his way. Her father taught her the importance of a dollar; Mr. Robbins taught his son that money will buy his happiness. She, unfortunately, was living proof of that.

Rhiannon made brief eye contact with Jack and, slowly so as not to draw the attention of her fiancé, shrugged her shoulders. Jack gestured to the men huddled around the camera and then to the door. She understood what he meant: the two of them could escape the studio without either of the men realizing where they had gone.

She shook her head slightly. She barely made any movement, afraid to fully lose the pose that Paul had approved early on in the portrait session. Her eyes slid over as she checked to make sure that Paul's attention was still occupied. It was. She mouthed the word "soon" to Jack. The appointment would be over soon and she would be able to spend the rest of the afternoon helping Jack seek out his culprit.

Jack read her lips and reluctantly nodded. It had already been nineteen years as it was. It would not really kill him – it could not – to wait a little bit longer.

Paul, too, out of the corner of his hazel eyes, had seen her lips spell out the small word. Another dollar was hastily exchanged between the two men and the photographer nodded. Paul walked over to his fiancée and took her dainty hand in his much larger one. "No more waiting, my dear. It's time to take your last picture before you become Mrs. Paul Robbins."

Rhiannon nodded. Finally. She resumed her portrait smile – it was forced, but her mother said it made her look lovely – and tilted her head towards the camera lens. A barely hidden snicker nearly caused her to break up the stiff pose. Jack was laughing at her.

She refused to rise to his bait. He had already ruined much of her childhood; she would not allow him to ruin her engagement portrait. Again, Rhiannon looked past the camera, her smile never faltering, and sent him a message with her gaze. Hush, her green eyes told him and he seemed to get the message. At the very least, Jack stifled his chuckles.

And that's when the flashbulb finally went off.


Diana clamped her eyes shut in order to stop the vision. She succeeded and the memories of a lifetime ago – or, rather, three lifetimes ago – faded away. She shook her head slightly and, hesitantly, opened her eyes and peeked at Jack. He was standing there, just as he had been standing there before the brief spell hit her, with a smirk on his face and the photograph clutched tight in his hand. She turned her head so as not to look at the faded photo again; she did not know what would happen if she set her eyes on it a second time.

She was still reeling from the sensation she had experienced after looking at his picture – or, better yet, her picture. The picture of Rhiannon. In her mind's eye she could still see the bride-to-be posing for her engagement portrait alongside her fiancé, Paul. The coincidence of her similar appearance, as well as the vision having the same name as her great-grandmother, was unnerving – but, she figured, it was nothing more than coincidence. There was no way that it could be her relative. Her great-grandfather, she remembered from her family tree project during her sophomore year, was a Jew by the name of Jacobs – the only non-Catholic within the vein, a tidbit that she had found interesting at the time. While she may not have remembered her great-grandfather's first name, she was sure that Rhiannon had not married a man called Robbins.

Jack interrupted her musings by snorting to himself as he carefully placed the photograph among the various other papers he kept in his back pocket. "Just so you know…that was your great-grandmother…" he told her, almost absently. He did not even lift his head. He seemed to enjoy her discomfort over the entire situation. And, strangely enough, he seemed as if he had been expecting her reaction. He did not even bat an eyelash during the spell. It was as if he had been waiting for her to recover so that he could taunt her with knowledge he should not even have.

Her head whipped around to look at him. But how did he know? It was almost if he was reading her very thoughts – and that frightened her. She just could not stand to be in his company any longer.

Before he even knew what she was doing – or herself, for that matter – Diana spun on her heel and hurried away. She had not made it any farther than the end of the block before she had encountered Jack; it did not take long for her to reach the front entrance of her aunt's building. Forsaking the revolving door in favor of the automatic opener, she all but ran through the lobby, not once looking back. She did not wait for the elevator at the end of the lobby either; keeping up her pace, she raced up the considerable flight of stairs to the top floor: the penthouse.

Panting slightly, her clammy hand turning the door handle that led to the penthouse suite, she finally glanced over her shoulder, looking behind her. But her haste had been in vain. He had not followed her into the building.

Ariadne had left the door to the apartment unlocked. Without even bothering to announce her reentrance, Diana opened the door, slamming it behind her as she ran through. Once inside, she slowed her run considerably but hurried into the direction of the room she had been given by Kloppman. She saw her aunt and the butler, still having a quiet conversation in the den area where she had left them. She did not acknowledge them; instead, Diana continued down the hallway. She reached the bedroom door, quickly opened it and slipped inside.

Both adults had paused, turning to glance out of the den's open door just in time to watch the teen fly through the length of the apartment. After they heard the distinct sound of a slamming door followed by the soft click of a lock, they looked back at each other.

"Well…" Kloppman said, adopting the manner of one who had something to say but was well aware that it probably would be best not to, though they would say it anyway, "I would say that your fears were founded, Ms. Ariadne," Kloppman offered.

Ariadne nodded and he could see that guilt flushed the woman's face. "Do you think I should have told her, Alfred? Should I have warned Diana about the boy and his tricks?"

Kloppman shook his head. Even after all of those years, she still blamed the boy for everything. When would she learn that Cowboy's role in the whole mess was as insignificant as his own? "I think that your niece will be able to handle herself, Madam. After all, are we sure that her… actions… have anything to do with the boy?" He tried to bring a reassuring expression to his tired and wrinkled face but it fell short when the pair of them heard a brief shriek coming from the guestroom.

It sounded just like Diana. A crash followed right away, and then there was a short groan.

Ariadne closed her eyes. She knew it. Jack Kelly was back.


Diana did not stop running until she had made it back to her room. She could not stop running. Every nerve, every instinct inside of her was screaming that she just needed to get away from this boy. If he even is a boy

Her thoughts were occupied – all but the very smallest part of her consciousness warned her that he was trouble; the minority, almost unheard against nervous roar, wondered why, exactly, he had been talking to her. She did not notice that her aunt and the butler were still together in the den area.

Everything that passed during her flight was a blur until she reached her destination: the guest bedroom. She entered it and forcefully shut the door behind her; a turn of the lock and she was safe. There was no way – even if the strange boy wanted to – that he could get to her in there.

Proud of herself, Diana sat on top of the bed, trying to make some sense out of all that had just happened. She had ran into that oddly dressed young man twice now and, somehow, he was privy to information about her great-grandmother that even she did not know. He had provided her with a photograph of a woman that looked exactly as she did, a photograph that inspired her to have a vision of what had actually occurred the day that the picture was taken. She shook her head. She still did not understand. She doubted she ever would.

A mild breeze blew in behind her causing her loose curls to fly upwards before settling on her shoulders, followed by a rather satisfied, if snide, snicker. "Did you really think that you could get away from me that easily, Diana?"

It was the boy.

The damn boy was in her room.

That same nagging part of her mind told her that she should not have been so surprised that he found his way in but that part was overruled when she shrieked out. He looked pleased to have received such a response.

Almost reflexively, Diana jumped off of her bed – the only thing separating the two of them – and took one great step back away. She tried not to notice that the door was on his half of the room; instead, she picked up a small black hard covered book from the side table beside the bed and hurled it at his head.

To her surprise, the book sailed right past him and made contact with the white wall that was behind him. She glanced at it as it landed on the carpet. How had she missed? She was sure that her throw was aimed directly to hit the boy. But there was no denying it – she had hit the wall, not the boy. She groaned her disappointment.

Jack looked at her, then to the book, than back at her, his lips curling in amusement. He bent down slowly and retrieved the book. Placing it securely inside his dusty vest, he laughed, "Ah, c'mon, Diana. Is that anyway to treat a guest?"


Author's Note: Sorry about that guys. I know that I promised a chapter every Sunday but this Sunday actually was my last day at work. I worked 6 ½ years with the Musicland/Sam Goody chain and – as some of you may know – they filed for Chapter 11 in January and announced they were liquidating 400+ stores. My store completed it's liquidation on Sunday and I spent the entire day there. I also hadn't had a day off since Easter so (coupled with exams and papers due at college) I hadn't had the next chapter done yet. I was still upset over losing my job on Monday so I didn't start the next chapter until yesterday. And, here it is. Woot.