Author's Note: Hope this one didn't take too long for most of you. Tried to get it written ASAP, but sister came down, and quality time with her was a priority, y'know? ^_^ I'm sure you understand, so I'll move on. It's starting to reach its climax now, and from here on in, things are going to get… a little bit… tense! Oh… and Americans, no offence in this chapter. You'll know what I mean when you get there.
Beck2: Yes, Hyde and Nemo do make a great team, which is why I quite often pair them together like in the film, lol. You're worried Lacertus/Zachary is dead? And yes, Falx is gone. Suspense… me? Unheard of, surely ~_^
Melanie: You'll have to wait and see to find out who the man is, but… well, it is kinda obvious, as you guessed, lol.
Capt. Cow: Another award! Hooray! Glad that cliffhanger wasn't quite as bad, though I think I did get a few people with that one nonetheless, hehe.
LotRseer3350: Hehe, who got shot? Don't worry… can't keep that a secret forever, can I? ~_^ We both know I'm not gonna tell you, lol, but nice try.
drowchild: I know I didn't, Mwahahaha. Graphic… yup. Upped the rating a little too, eeep.
Raven Silvers: I'm getting bloodier by the chapter? Yipe. Don't hurt Skinner? … Hmmm. That's an idea, but whether or not it is one I use, you will have to wait and see, hehe. Thanks for the suggestion… I had failed to notice that _ )
Sethoz: Happy bunny? Uh oh… bad sign. Back away slowly… no sudden movements… don't make eye contact! Just kidding. No Sawyer? True, true… that was quite a feat, let me assure you : ) Had trouble with that one, LOL! Yup, at last one of the bad wolves is gone, and yup, Woods has Skinner. It's a win-lose situation, lol. Still keeping up the quoteage I see… good, good.
Silversnow: Um… thanks? Lol ^_^
Funyun: Join the club, entitled 'People Who Don't Know Who Got Shot'. Okay… that didn't make an amazing amount of sense, but you get the basic idea. Obvious solution is Quatermain? Interesting. Another person glad to see Falx snuff it. Glad you enjoyed that bit. Well, as for the attitude, she was the alpha female ^_^ Comes with the job title.
Emily Smith: Just getting good? I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks, and here's the new update.
Without further ado or waffle from Clez, here is Chapter 22 of By The Light of The Moon…
The masculine cry tore through the corridors like a knife cutting through flesh, chilling all those who heard it to the very bone, making shivers rise up the spines and hairs lift on the back of the neck and along the arms. It resonated horribly, carrying a remarkable distance, before as abruptly as it – and the gunshot that had caused it – had rung out… it stopped, casting the complex back into a dreadful silence, filled with suspense and dread, leaving those listeners with a sense of trepidation as to who had been wounded, hit by the deafening thunder crack of the bullet.
Mina Harker didn't know what to do, her icy blue eyes wide with the shock of what had just happened, her breath coming in ragged gasps of disbelief as her gaze transferred from the wounded… to the shooter. She just could not bring her brain to comprehend what had transpired, her mind running with a thousand other different scenarios than the one that had happened.
"My god…" she whispered.
"I had no choice," came the male voice as Allan Quatermain strode up beside her, his elephant gun still held readily in his hands.
The sound – not too unlike a prolonged whimper – that emanated from Tom Sawyer – or Exuro respectively – made her insides freeze with terror. She turned her eyes back upon him, as he lay on his back on the floor, in clear agony, his own weapons dropped from the sheer shock that the blast had had on his system. He breathed rapidly, gasping in the air he needed to stay alive, and his eyes were clamped closed, teeth gritted in pain. His shoulder oozed blood madly, the injury created by the rifle large and unsightly. Despite her instincts to stay back… Mina approached him.
"Mrs. Harker?"
She ignored the hunter blatantly, making a point of turning her back on him, the young man's former mentor. Slowly but surely, she approached the fallen agent, seeing his discomfort, even as he drew in a long breath, his natural – at least it was now – healing kicking in and taking affect, causing him to stir slightly, groaning again. "You shot him."
"Yes I did… be careful."
Oh for goodness' sake, she thought angrily, her eyes never leaving the form she was approaching, does he think me incapable of defending myself? She huffed quietly, and came to a stop, standing over him, her daggers sheathed again now… well, the one she had not thrown anyway. It was concealed in her long leather fighting coat, under the layers, tucked away out of sight and mind.
"Agent Sawyer?" she ventured to say, softly almost, her concern bleeding into her tone, even as she watched his suffering lessen with each passing second, his supernatural abilities sealing the wound and mending torn flesh and muscle, fusing broken bone.
Against her better judgement, she lowered to a crouch, one that would be easy to spring from if he tried to attack suddenly, something she doubted in her mind, a deep, buried knowledge that something had changed. His scent had altered somehow, though she could not identify exactly how or why.
"… Tom?"
A sudden intake of air caused her to half leap back and away, her instincts kicking in and bringing her into a prepared position. The hammer cocked back on Quatermain's rifle, even as the green eyes snapped open, the panting becoming the dominant sound in the silent corridor. He gasped again, the noise mixed with a pained and shocked groan that caused Mina's sympathy to swell. His eyes closed again for a moment, and then opened… slowly, as though he had been asleep for many hours, something she knew to be false.
Or is it?
"Mrs. Harker?"
It was not Quatermain who spoke this time, stating her name… it was him… it was Tom. Not Exuro… Tom Sawyer. Her smile was slightly misplaced in the scene, but she immediately went to his side again, and seeing the woman's relaxation, Quatermain lowered his rifle, coming to kneel – rather awkwardly, Mina noticed – by Tom's side as well.
"Tom, are you all right?" Mina asked, refusing to conceal her concern in light of the situation. He had been shot after all.
He nodded slowly, still lying down for the moment, drawing in a deep breath before managing to reply, "I think so. What happened?"
"You…" Mina paused, unsure of how to continue. "You had been brainwashed, made to believe that you worked for this branch of your government. You…" Did she really want to tell him what he had tried to do? "You tried to attack me."
"Oh god, did I hurt you?" He sat up a little too quickly, and made himself dizzy, or so she guessed from the immediate hanging of the head and the low groan that escaped him. "Remind me not to do that again," he mumbled, moving his right arm and wincing, before glancing to his wounded shoulder. "Okay… when did that happen… and how?" His eyes turned between the two of them, before he realised who sat on his other side, and then he seemed to understand. "Oh."
"I'm sorry, Sawyer… but it was either you or me… and you have the healing on your side. Me… I've already died once, and to be frank, it didn't suit me at all."
Tom smiled despite his injury, and uttered a quite laugh of acknowledgement. He nodded again, craning his neck to one side as if uncomfortable, before asking, "Where are the rest of the League?"
"We broke off to try and find you, and the others," Mina explained, noticing the immediate concern that flared in his eyes at her mention of the word 'others'."
"Anise," he said. "Did you find Anise? And Dmitri?"
"Not personally," she told him, "but I am sure Mr. Skinner was up to the task."
Quatermain smiled, as if lost momentarily in a memory that was only his, and then said, "We should try and regroup. It's not safe to wander these corridors alone. As they always say… 'safety in numbers'."
Tom nodded, just as a large bulk of a figure loomed from around the corner at the end of the hallway. Mina and Quatermain, as well as the injured spy turned their heads to see the arrival of Edward Hyde and Captain Nemo. Exactly halfway down the corridor, Hyde began to jerk and twist, yelling and in agony, as the breaking of bone and reshaping of muscle, tissue and flesh signified the return of Dr. Henry Jekyll. Within moments, the thin, copper-haired man stood nervously beside Captain Nemo, the latter brandishing his sword in a non-threatening manner, a fine layer of blood coating the edge of the blade.
"Ah," Jekyll murmured at the sight of Tom Sawyer, "we thought we heard a gunshot." He strode forward, accepting the long coat that Quatermain offered to him, and crouched beside the American, quickly but carefully inspecting the wound. His eyes never left his analysis, and before long, he was nodding in an affirming manner. "The wound is already healing itself. For a rifle injury… its fast, effective work too." He nodded to Tom, who acknowledged him with a nod of his own and a wan smile.
"Now…" Quatermain began, "just to find that Skinner."
Which was when the sound of speakers concealed from sight blared into existence, a rather smug voice – coming from a smiling, arrogant man, Mina suspected – spoke, saying, "Intruders… I know you can hear me. I have what appears to be a floating jacket in my possession, and if you value it… follow your brat."
With that, the small speech ended, and the League was cast into unified dismay and confusion.
"Skinner," Tom sighed, closing his eyes. "Woods has Skinner."
"Who's Woods?" Quatermain inquired.
Tom made it to his feet with the help of Jekyll, and Mina's slight, cautious assistance, as he said, "I'll explain on the way. C'mon."
The floating jacket was also a pair of floating handcuffs, as Rodney Skinner stood, ashamed, in the centre of a small handful of armed guards, all of whom glanced to the empty clothing every now and again, perhaps wondering just how it could be so. Of course, they were in the presence of werewolves, Skinner knew, and he assumed they should have been used to the paranormal by now in their line of employment.
If they think I'm strange, wait 'til they see Hyde. That should be interesting. He cast his eyes around, wondering where Anise and the others had gotten to also. After the death of Falx, he had had to leave the room, and had quickly been apprehended by the so-called Sebastian Woods and his lackeys. Skinner glared openly at the smug American 'government member', wondering just how and why a man such as him could justify the brainwashing of innocent agents for his own purposes. Simple answer was he couldn't… at least, that was what Skinner assumed.
"It shouldn't take Sawyer long to track your scent," Woods was saying as he turned from the intercom system, the microphone sitting inanimately on the desk. "I got the impression during our 'chat' that he had grown accustomed to his new gifts quickly."
"Yeah, well," Skinner began almost lazily, "for an American… he's a fast learner."
One of the gunmen slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of the jacket, and the floating clothing dropped to its invisible knees, uttering a yelp, before drawing in a deep breath. Skinner winced, cursing the men inwardly, knowing – at least a little – better than to insult them too much. It could lead to a nasty injury he might not recover from any time soon… if at all.
"What makes you think Sawyer even cares?" he ventured to ask casually, eyeing the man with contempt nonetheless, attempting to give off the air of nonchalance. "And the rest of them for that matter? I am a thief, you know."
"I don't care," Woods replied bluntly. "Something tells me that this freak show Sawyer's become a part of doesn't leave members behind. After all, you came after the boy, didn't you?"
Skinner shrugged, causing the cloth shoulders to rise and fall. "He's not a thief. He's a spy… and at least they gather a little respect."
"Well if they don't come for you, I have a soldier who would enjoy the entertainment of a… 'guest'."
Bastard, Skinner thought to himself, hoping against hope that the League wouldn't risk their lives to try and ensure his continued for just a little while longer.
He had a horrible feeling that his hoping was useless.
Anise, Dmitri and Zachary – now transformed once again and in an unused guard's uniform – had also heard the announcement, and were following the combined strength and accuracy of three lycanthropic sets of heightened senses in order to track Skinner… Anise had had a terrible feeling something like this would happen. It usually did… or so she thought. She had never really been in many situations like this before.
Dmitri and Zachary walked on either side of her, and the three of them travelled confidently, lifting their chins to smell the air often in order to better follow the scent they were after. It seemed as though Skinner had encountered Woods and his men along the line somewhere, and the scent of one London thief had suddenly mingled with that of at least a dozen American gunmen and one very cocky bureaucrat.
Then another scent drifted to her… and another, and then another, the familiarity a comfort to her, like the blankets some children clutched to them in their early youth. She began to attempt to track both simultaneously, having a little difficulty in doing so, but relieved when the owners of the scents emerged from around the next turn, eight sets of eyes locking and interchanging before Tom Sawyer strode forward purposely, embracing Anise quickly.
Anise disregarded the blood until she smelt it, drawing back quickly and stating, "You are hurt."
"You should have seen me five minutes ago," he quipped dryly, and persisted by asking, "you heard it too?"
Dmitri nodded in acknowledgement, and suddenly Tom tensed, eyes narrowing slightly.
Zachary.
Anise stepped before Zachary, between the freed American and Tom, saying, "No," sternly. "He is no longer under Woods' control. Like yourself apparently, he has been released from whatever was used against you. His name is Zachary Fairfax." She turned her head to Zachary. "This is Tom Sawyer. I believe you are both agents of the same government."
Tom nodded slowly, and the two men skipped shaking hands in order to continue tracing Skinner's scent. Mina Harker, Dr. Jekyll, Captain Nemo and Allan Quatermain were the other scents she had detected, and she nodded to them all, acknowledging every single one as firmly but discreetly as she could, trying to avoid over enthusiasm.
"C'mon," Tom said then, "we've gotta find Skinner before Woods…" He let the sentence hang ominously, obviously not sure what would happen to the thief if left in the hands of the – clearly crazed – leader of the organisation for too long. He could be killed, and Anise had to admit that the thought was almost more than she could bear. She frowned, following Tom closely, perhaps afraid to lose sight of him lest something terrible happen.
Before long, the combined senses of the League and the three extra werewolves had tracked the scent of the apprehended thief to a closed room, where everyone hesitated, Tom's hand frozen, reaching for the handle.
Anise touched his arm gently, trying to bring him back to reality, locking eyes with him for a moment before he set his hand firmly against the doorknob.
And turned.