CHESS

Chapter Seven

Nervously, I walked beside Spot, heading into a part of Manhattan I didn't even know existed. It looked shady, and it made me seriously nervous. I was all ready nervous, though. Spot didn't sleep at all last night, glaring and pacing the entire night. I only asked him to come to bed twice, before I gave up. At some points, there was just no consoling Spot Conlon.

He was smoking as we walked, and I kept my eyes on the ground, just like he told me to before we began the trek here. We passed shady looking characters, who sneered at Spot as we passed by. We stepped over drunken but distinguished–looking gentleman who had passed out outside the pub.

Spot tugged roughly on my arm and we ducked under some dirty rags that covered the doorway of the building like a makeshift door and I coughed when we entered the murky room. A large man sitting behind a counter grinned at Spot when he entered.

"Thought ya said ya'd never do opium, Conlon," he called, laughing.

I shuddered, realizing where the hell we were currently at. The whole place stank of every foul thing you could think of. Men lounged in their stupors on ratty old mattresses, some with cheap prostitutes hanging all over them, inhaling thick smog from a pipe.

"Ain't here for that, Chin. Ya know that," Spot said, seemingly unaffected by the foulness in the air. I pressed closer to him.

"All right, all right. Just think it'd be mighty nice to have that cane of yours," Chin said, laughing, also unaffected by the smog and the stench. "They're in the basement waitin' for ya."

Spot tugged me through a doorway I hadn't seen and down some cement steps and I was suddenly aware of the dampness of the basement we were in. We reached the bottom of the stairs and came to one room, with a large round table. Sitting at it were Jack, Patch, and a girl I did not recognize.

I sat down slowly and slumped slightly as Spot sat down beside me. I tugged my hat off and ran a nervous, trembling hand through my hair. I had tucked it under my hat because Spot had said it was easier to try and conceal my femininity the best I could.

"You must be Angel. I'm Raccoon, queen of the underworld," the girl said, extending her hand after spitting in it.

Spit-shaking was a sign of friendship. You always shook hands with someone who spit in their hand first. It was an unwritten newsie rule, I supposed. Anyone I'd ever spit-shook with had been very nice, and a good friend.

I spit in my own hand and shook with her. "Good to know ya," I murmured.

She grinned and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. Raccoon was so obviously named because of her large brown doe eyes that seemed to see everything at once without having them move at all. It was unnerving, but she seemed friendly enough.

"So let's cut to the chase, Conlon. What's going on?" Patch asked, all pleasantries aside now.

"It's like this," Spot said, leaning forward and talking with his hands. I was endeared by this, of course, but this was neither the time nor place to be charmed by his seemingly useless, yet adorable, behavior. "The Bronx is making waves, like I knew they would. They're sending us human hearts with letters cut into them. We've been sending them to Nightshade, to get her brain working on what the hell it could mean."

Every face in the room grimaced at the grisly picture Spot was painting for them. Yes, it was terrifying, but they needed to know what was going on. And I was quietly endeared by the way he argued his point. I held back the flush of embarrassment, though. But I couldn't help it. There was hardly anything that Spot did that I wasn't endeared by.

"What do ya want us to do, Spot?" Jack asked, after a few moments of thinking.

"I need ya to keep your eyes peeled. I know this is hard to do, to bring you guys into it when ya ain't done nothin' wrong," Spot said, sort of apologizing, but almost not.

"We owe ya for the strike, Spot," Jack admitted. "Ya didn't have to help but ya did. "

"I don't see it that way, Jacky-boy, but I appreciate the support," Spot told him.

"I guess, in a way, we owe ya, too, Conlon," Raccoon spoke up, frowning in thought. "You can always use the underground if ya need to. My men won't say nothin' about it."

Spot nodded. "Thanks, Raccoon."

Patch shrugged. "Well since everyone else don't gots a problem with it, then I guess I can't either."

The tension was lifted as everyone laughed, even Spot managed a chuckle, probably appreciating that the dark cloud was lifted from everyone.

"So Spot, ya never did tell us, what's up with you and Johnny? What are ya fightin' about?" Jack asked, and I felt the tension return when Spot's face was devoid of emoion.

"Something stupid that happened a long time ago," he said coldly and frowned. "It ain't worth repeatin'."

He tossed me a quick glance and I didn't miss it. He frowned again, as if he wished I would've missed it.

"What about Lucky?" Raccoon asked, switching subjects. "Staten Island ain't with us?"

I frowned this time, thinking back to the conversation Spot had with Lucky this morning, when we'd went around, asking the leaders o met us and discuss things.

"So," Spot said, after explaining what was going on. "I was wonderin' if you're behind me, whatever I plan on doing."

Lucky frowned at him and then looked straight at me. "I don't think so, Conlon. Brooklyn's getting' a big head. I think ya asked for what ya got."

Spot nodded and pulled me backwards when he took a step back. I realized then what had just happened: he had just chosen his side, and it was not ours.

I blinked and looked around at everyone, pulling my brain back into the conversation.

"So does Staten Island really think it has a chance against us?" Patch asked, frowning as he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I mean, them and the Bronx are going against Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan plus we have the underground with the larks. They don't stand a chance."

"Maybe not, but they ain't gonna back off," Raccoon said, tossing Patch a skeptical look. "Staten Island is on the other side of Brooky. They could get attacked easily that way, if the west side isn't defended. That's where we'd come in. We own The Narrows."

"But we're on their east side," Patch argued. "We can defend them just as easily." He looked at Spot. "I can send some of my best fighters for ya. They won't attack us. Their beef ain't with us; there would be no point to attack us."

Spot nodded, his jaw working as he thought hard. "You're right, Patch. They ain't gonna attack you guys."

"They won't attack us, neither," Jack put in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But they might use Manhattan to get to Brooklyn. But we'll head 'em off, of course."

"They could have spies, too. Or traitors or double agents. Now that it's practically war, anybody could be working for anybody."

Every pair of eyes turned to look at me when I finally spoke. I shrunk back a little in my seat, suddenly frozen from so many people watching me.

"She's right," Raccoon said, surprising me. Her large eyes watched me carefully before she looked back at Spot. "We can trust no one."

Spot nodded his acknowledgement to her statement. "You're right, Raccoon, that's why I've only called you all here. I trust that you all know who can be trusted in your newsies, or otherwise."

Patch nodded. "This ain't no game, kids. We'se all gotta stick together, just like the strike, 'else we'se all gonna die."

"Carryin' the banner, eh fellas?" Jack grinned wryly.

"Carryin' the banner," they all agreed.

I covered my mouth and nose with my coat sleeve as we passed through the opium den once again, thoroughly grossed out by the fact that we had just had a meeting underneath such a horrid place. I couldn't look around, the smog burning my eyes. When we reached the frigid air, I sputtered slightly as I tried to inhale the clean air, rubbing the smoke from my eyes.

"Good God, that was awful," I told Spot seriously, and then gave him a weird look. "How'd you know about that place?"

His mouth pressed into a grim line. "Bad habits."

I looked back at the den and, frowning, looked back at him skeptically. "You used to smoke opium?"

He shook his head. "No, but I used to hang out there."

He didn't offer another explanation and I didn't ask for one. I decided it was one of those things that he used to do when we forced apart by Fate, or whomever it was that decided to separated us for so long.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked after a few moments of walking beside him in silence.

"I'm not sure," Spot admitted. "But I'm working on it."

I nodded. "I think it's good that Raccoon and her boys are going to help us out. That secures out west side, and our east side is covered by Queens," I offered, hoping to strike up some sort of conversation. The silence was absolutely maddening.

"You're right, Angel. It is a good thing. I'm going to need her help now that Staten Island isn't with us. Not that I thought Lucky would. He's always been pushing a bit for the Bronx anyways." He sighed. "But I got Queens and Manhattan. And then there's us."

I bit my lip and smiled brightly. "Nobody messes with Brooklyn, yeah?" I was hoping to get a smile out of him, something that to prove to me that he wasn't about to take the whole of this problem onto himself like he always did.

"You're right, Angel," he agreed after a few moments, tossing a smile my way. I was so thankful for that lazy little smile that I nearly threw myself at him. But I held my tongue, and my heart, and merely smiled back. "Nobody messes with Brooklyn."


Short chapter is ick. I know. I'm sorry. But this chapter was needed, so you could could see the progression of the plot a bit. :) I'm leaving the CC on my profile, just in case some of you creepers still would love to join. :) Yay creepers! I love all of you who reviewed. You get a Spot!muse hug!

CTB!

xx Wicked