My answer to the previous chapter question: I would rather be abducted by aliens, because it seems cooler.

Thanks to To bE mY HEaRt, Bluejay says hi and he would date you, too. You know, if he were real.

She was carrying the black cat. Her father didn't like cats, and he didn't like the black cat especially. He thought black cats were bad luck, because Polly liked to hide in the shadows and jump out at the little fluffy dog that belonged to Felicity's mother.

"What do you mean, The Murder's jeopardizing shipping?" Her father screamed into the telephone. "I don't care about this Blue Raven, you get that cargo shipped out today!"

"Father?" Felicity spoke up. "I think Polly's sick."

"I don't care, Samson, I just want that cargo shipped out. I don't care what it takes," Her father ignored her. "Take a hatchet to that Blue Raven's head, but I want this taken care of. Do I make myself clear?" There came some muffled babbling at the other end.

"Father—"

"I'm busy, Felicity," Her father turned away. "Go find your mother. What do you mean, there's no evidence? You just told me that all our containers were sabotaged! No, I don't care! That counts as evidence! But there's no damage? Then the containers weren't sabotaged, you idiot!"

Felicity was smarter than most eight-year-olds. She knew exactly where to go. She went to her father's library, and set Polly down on a chair. At the end of the library, her father's files were kept on a series of dark brown shelves.

Felicity looked under T. She figured that 'The Murder' would be filed under T. She was wrong. So she searched under M. Nothing. Then she remembered something else her father had mentioned. The Blue Raven.

Felicity looked back under T. Nothing about a raven. So she looked under B. Nothing. Felicity kicked the cabinet, making Polly jump in fright. She hissed at Felicity, who hissed back.

"Whatcha doin'?" Emily's voice came from behind Felicity. The wall had opened up, and Emily sat in the entrance to the hidden room behind it. "You look upset."

"I heard my father talking on the telephone," Felicity plopped down next to her friend. "He was yelling at some man called Samson because this gang called The Murder was jeopardizing shipping. I'm trying to look it up, but I can't find anything."

Emily frowned. "You looked under M and T?"

Felicity nodded. "Nothing."

"So whatcha gonna do, Fee?" Emily peered at her friend. "Did your dad mention anything else?"

"He said something about this Blue Raven," Felicity grumbled. "But I already looked under B for Blue, and there's nothing about a raven there."

"Didja look under R?" Emily cocked her head thoughtfully. "Grown-ups are weird. Maybe they got mixed up and put it in backwards?"

"Maybe," Felicity admitted thoughtfully. She stood on her tippy-toes to look into the drawer labeled R. "Here!" She triumphantly drew a file from the cabinet and closed the drawer again.

Footsteps echoed outside the library door. "The hiding place!" Emily hissed, snatching up Polly. "Go!"

Through a hidden door they went, up a ladder and into a secret room they'd discovered some time back while searching for Polly. The girls had made it their hiding place, and smuggled up there a kerosene lamp and a few matches. It was the perfect place for the reading of secret files.

"Go on, open it," Emily urged once Felicity had locked the door. "What's it say?"

"I'm going, I'm going," Felicity grumbled, but she wasn't really cross. She was just as excited as Emily was.

They went through the files twice, and by the time they were done Felicity had missed both her sewing lesson and her religion tutor. Emily, who had snuck away from cleaning pots in the kitchen, now had thrice as much work to do and four rooms to sweep clean. But the girls still didn't understand half of the files. They promised themselves they would look up the hard words like rape or sabotage.

There weren't that many papers in the folder, anyway, Felicity grumbled later. It was a waste of time for just two reports.

What the girls didn't know, as eight-year-olds, was that those two reports were chock-full of information. Of course, you couldn't blame them for it, they were only children, after all. How were they to know that if The Murder discovered Felicity's father knew so much about them he'd slaughter them all?

Gang, commonly known as The Murder (i.e. the name of a group of crows), led by an individual known as the Blue Raven. Crimes include rape, murder, trespassing, theft, sabotage, vandalism and felony.

January 3rd, 1890; Priscilla Miller, 8, and her sister, Esmeralda Miller, 13, missing. Priscilla found, testified to rape and to rape and murder of sister. Murder claimed credit openly. Perpetrators never found.

September 20th, 1891; $75 worth of food, seven pistols and 35 bullets stolen from general store in Bowery. One boy caught, wore blue—color of the Blue Raven. Convicted, sent to city refuge.

October 1st, 1891; six women, four children held hostage in tenement in Queens by drunken youths. Five dead total—strangled, fallen out window (four floors), blood loss. Six boys, one girl arrested. Girl later released for lack of evidence, boys convicted. Three sent to work farms, three to docks, one to refuge.

December 24th, 1891; Joseph Pulitzer called to report break-in. Nothing stolen. Graffiti on walls of courtyard and door. The Murder claimed credit. Perpetrators never found.

January 1st, 1892; Unnamed child in Brooklyn, reported missing. Body never recovered, the Murder claimed credit.

January 2nd,1892; Bank robbery, the Murder claimed credit. The Blue Raven arrested, liberated shortly after arrest. Doors locked from inside.

January 4th, 1982; Empty warehouse in Manhattan set on fire, four Murder boys arrested, committed suicide on the spot.

January 10th, 1982; David Keller, 15, Samuel Emmerson, 17, Felix Jenkins, 15, and Oliver Pines, 16, reported missing. Bodies never found. The Murder claimed credit.

January 16th, 1982; Elizabeth Dale, 17, and Margery "Molly" Webster, 18, reported missing. Bodies never found. The Murder claimed credit.

January 20th, 1982; Irene Bearing, 15, reported missing. Body never found. Murder boy delivered locket to parents, vanished before police could arrive. The Murder claimed credit.

January 28th, 1982; Julie Evans, 16, reported missing. Body never found. The Murder claimed credit.

February 9th, 1982; John York, 19, reported missing. Body never found. The Murder claimed credit.

February 12th, 1982; Joseph Marks, 17, reported missing. Two days later, burned body found in East River. Face burned beyond recognition. The Murder claimed credit.

February 20th, 1982; Yvonne O'Malley, 13, reported missing. Body never found. The Murder claimed credit.

The records continued on and on. As the words "recognition," "rape," "perpetrators," "hostage," "liberated," or "committed," weren't included in her English lessons, Felicity could not decipher half of the reports. In this case, ignorance was bliss, as Felicity's parents wanted to raise their daughter unaware of such vulgarity as crime.

When the girls failed to decipher the file, they separated—Emily to her work and Felicity to dejectedly return the file before scurrying away to her ballroom dancing lesson.

At The Murder's headquarters in Brooklyn

"What do you want with Christina Felicity Moore?" Emily crossed her arms across her chest. "She's a snotty rich girl." She said it so convincingly she almost believed it herself.

The Blue Raven, however, did not believe her. The Blue Raven was tall, with a head of silkily soft hair so black that it was almost blue—that's where he'd gotten his name. That, and the tattoo on the inside of his wrist of a raven. He held himself like he was the most important person in the world, but he dressed simply; he wore a loose beige shirt and a pair of brown slacks. Two hook swords, taken as payment from an immigrant who hadn't known how to use them, were attached to his belt. They were worn from use, like he knew how to use them.

And he did.

"The reward, of course," The Blue Raven inspected his hands. They were long and fair, like a girl's, as thought they'd never seen a hard day's work. They were pickpocket hands, though God only knows how a boy so imperious was able to pick pockets. "Two hundred dollars is nothing to sneeze at, Emily."

"You're plenty rich," Emily retorted. "I see you in the news all the time. Murders, disappearances, thefts, ransoms. You're rolling in money."

"Not so," The Blue Raven said mildly. "We pay taxes, same as you." He ignored Emily's snort. "Plus fines, bribes, etcetera. We're far from rich."

"Well, you're not getting anything out of me," Emily said stoically. She was foolish enough to make a fatal mistake. Her stoic remark led the Blue Raven to believe that she knew something, which is always a mistake.

"Suit yourself," The Blue Raven shrugged. "I'll get it one way or another." To Crow he said, "Take her to the basement, to the cell on the end. I want a guard round the clock. One of each gender, in case she tries anything."

"One of each gender," Emily grumbled as Crow led her away. "In case she tries anything, my ass. I couldn't charm a boy out of an infection if my life depended on it."

"Oh, boys aren't the problem," The Blue Raven drawled after them.

Several miles away, at Brooklyn newsie headquarters

"What do we know about The Murder?" Christina asked, shaking the dust off her skirt. She stood around a table laden with papers of every kind. The room was rather large, considering it only held a table, but Spot had a fondness for grandeur, and it was he who had picked the newsies' headquarters. At least the size of the room meant that there was plenty of room for all the people.

There were six people in the room. Spot Conlon, who looked completely at home in what he liked to call his "war room." His second in command, who had been introduced to Christina as Snapdragon, was a boy with scruffy blond hair who never moved from his position beside Spot. Jack Kelly stood next to David, the Walking Mouth, both of whom looked slightly uneasy at being in the heart of Brooklyn territory. Bluejay stood next to Christina, mysterious as always.

There was a new face, which Spot identified as Karma, his spymaster. A lanky boy with light brown hair and freckles stood opposite Christina, granting him a generous view of her chest as she leaned over the maps. He enjoyed the view immensely, as Christina had a very nice pair of—

"We know that the Murder's been responsible for tens, if not hundreds, of disappearances," Kraken said. As no one looked up from the papers, he was able to keep his eyes on Christina's ample—

"What kind of disappearances?" Christina looked up, and Serpent quickly averted his eyes, choosing instead to meet hers.

"Boys and girls both, mostly in their teens," Serpent said steadily. "Only one body was ever found. However, their first kidnapping was of two girls and one of the girls was released and reported the rape and murder of her older sister."

Christina nodded. "I read about that. My uncle lives in New Jersey; he's obsessed with crime. He keeps files on anything and everything he can find out, and I once read about the Murder." The lie was smooth, undetectable. She was a better liar than Emily was. "It only went up until 1892, though."

"There've been 'undreds since," Spot shrugged. "Not even any patte'n. Rich, poor, in between, anythin'. Nuthin' bout races eidah, or anyfin like dat."

"Oh great," David said sarcastically. "We have a group of kidnappers loose on the city."

"They've been loose since forevah, dumbass," Jack smacked him upside the head.

"Then let's go to the police," David suggested, as though this was actually feasible.

"It's been years, David," Christina glared at him. "No progress in seven years, so why should there be any now?"

"What's Emily like?" Serpent asked, searching Christina's eyes. "Is there any one thing that can define her? Anything that sets her apart?"

Christina shook her head. More lies, she thought ruefully, then pushed that aside. "Nothing I can think of."

"Well, how d'you know they're centered in Brooklyn?" David asked Spot.

"A little boidy," Spot drawled. "Ya want me ta call 'em in? They'd love some fresh meat."

"There's something we're missing," Christina insisted before the two loudmouths could go at each other. "Something that's right under our noses."

"What kind of something?" Snapdragon asked as everyone's eyes went to the papers on the table, though they'd been over them a hundred times already.

Christina considered a few ideas. "The people who were kidnapped. Where they going out with anybody? What about their close friends? Were they interviewed?"

"Most of them were single," Snapdragon looked at the papers. "One girl was engaged to be married. Two boys were dating girls they saw often. Usually they were kidnapped in pairs or groups. Their families said they were friends."

Christina crossed her arms, making her small breasts seem larger, and ensuring Serpent's eyes didn't move from their position. "What about school situations? How many went to public schools? Could the Murder have gotten to them that way?"

"Half of 'em didn't go to school," Jack said, looking through the papers. "Uddah's went ta private schools. On'y a few went to public schools."

Christina shut her eyes tight, trying to think. To her credit, she thought of a few choice things that might be useful, none of which were appropriate to voice at this meeting.

"I've got nothing," she admitted finally. "Anyone else?"

No one said anything as they all looked at each other. Serpent noticed that Christina's hand went to the locket nestled nicely between her breasts underneath her dress.

The meeting was adjourned after agreeing—several times—that if they could find out why the people were taken, they might have a chance at finding their hiding places.

Serpent volunteered to take Christina back to the 'Hattan lodging house, since David had to head to school in an hour (they had come straight from an early-morning meeting to Brooklyn) and Jack had to go selling. Bluejay agreed that Christina should go back to 'Hattan, as he was going to visit his friend in Queens to see what he knew. Christina objected, saying she wanted to stay and look through the papers more. In response, Snapdragon handed her a bag that held a copy of every paper they had on the Murder, and urged her not to lose it.

"Go home," He advised firmly. "S'gonna be a long day, I promise you that, and you might as well get a few hours of sleep while you can."

Christina gave a long sigh that was so deep she felt like she was exhaling her insides. "Fine," She conceded, though she disliked giving in. "I'll go home."

Snapdragon smiled. "Sleep," He counseled as she turned to go. "And don't hurt yourself trying to search for a result."

For most of the walk, Serpent and Christina were silent. It was still nearly pitch black outside, except for a bit of gray on the horizon, and the streets didn't feel safe enough to walk in, let alone advertise your presence in.

Finally, though Serpent asked Christina, "That locket, the one around your neck? It's very nice. Did Emily give it to you?"

Christina nodded. "A while back."

"It seems more like a lover's token than a sign of friendship," Serpent smiled.

Christina shrugged. More lies. "She got it from an old friend who'd been given it by her boyfriend. When they broke up she glued it shut and gave it to Emily. She gave it to me for my birthday."

Serpent nodded. "Can I see it?"

Christina reached up to take it, but Serpent got there first. His long fingers dipped between her breasts and when they touched her skin both of them shivered. Christina's eyes turned cold and hard. He withdrew the locket and looked at it.

"It's very nice workmanship," Serpent said. "That girl's boyfriend must've saved up money for a while. The girl was stupid to give it away instead of selling it."

"She's not the brightest of sorts," Christina shrugged. Her eyes were still cold. At least, she mused, she could already see the lodging house up ahead.

When Serpent put the locket back, he didn't let it drop like most people would have. Instead his hand dipped down the way he'd withdrawn the locket, and set it down gently.

This time, Christina slapped his hand away. "What are you playing at?" She growled.

"You're not like most girls," Serpent said thoughtfully. "Most skirts are afraid of their own shadows. If I'd touched any other skirt like that, she's run screaming for the police."

"I'm not most girls," Christina hissed. "I solve my own problems, not go to the police."

Serpent shrugged, and leaned in. "What kinds of problems?"

"None of your business," Christina said, but her voice got softer and softer. She didn't, however, pull away, and Serpent's hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. "What are you doing?"

"Relax," Serpent whispered, and kissed her.

As far as kisses go, Christina mused later, it was a good one. He was a good kisser and she kissed him back, just to see what it was like to kiss a boy like Serpent. Their mouths moved together perfectly, like they were meant to connect that way, and when his tongue poked through her lips, she let it. And when his hand wrapped itself in her hand as he kissed her, she let him. So lost was she in the kissing, that she didn't notice at first when his hand began to creep south.

She pulled away, looking at him like she wasn't sure what she'd see.

"What's wrong?" He asked, like they hadn't just met for the first time a few hours ago.

"I don't know you," She stammered. "I—I just met you, I—" She shut up when she realized she was lying again. Only this time, she was lying to herself.

She remembered a boy, years and years ago, so many years ago that she couldn't remember the exact shape of his face. She remembered a smile, and eyes that followed her everywhere, and a laugh that filled the room.

She kissed him, this time. This kiss was better than the last, and Christina felt like it could go on forever.

Later, in bed, Christina remembered the kisses, and she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't stopped him from untying the laces of her dress. And she thought about Emily, too, about what she would think, and she cried herself to sleep.

This is the longest chapter I've written in a while, and I'm quite proud of myself in that I bothered to return to this story at all. I plan to finish it completely so I can work on other stuff.

Question: Who do you think Christina should end up with?

As always, answer the question in a review or, if you're like me and can't stand mysteries, PM me and we'll chat about the fate of the characters.

LOVE YOU ALL TO DEATH AND I SHALL FOREVER BE PROUD OF MY FELLOW FANSIES FOR THEIR INCREDIBLE FANDOM!

Review, please, as they are great incentive for writing. Love you all!