It was days like these that made Huck just want to go back to St. Petersburg and sit in a hogshead for the rest of his life, never worrying about anything like revenge or world domination. This was what was rolling through his mind as he pointed his Winchester at the previously believed dead soldier who was holding a tall woman with stately features with a knife to her neck.
"Shoot! Go on!" Slowly, they all put down their weapons. "I guessed as much. That they would do anything to protect you." Huck stifled a frustrated sigh just in time. The man was right.
"See, that's your biggest mistake, thinking I need them to protect me," the woman said in a faint and deadly whisper, her eyes turning a deep shade of red. Or Huck thought they did. He must have been imagining it. The man who held her gave a slight growl intent on frightening her, but she did not waver.
The next events went in a blur for Huck. The woman flipped in the soldier's grasp and grabbed his head in both hands, yanking it up and over to one side and providing a wonderful view for Huck. Unceremoniously she dug her teeth—fangs—into the soldier's neck. Huck jerked his head away, slightly nauseated at the sight, but this did not ease his suffering. The sounds of sucking and faint whimpers of shock and alarm from the soldier still reached Huck's ears. Then a faint thump which caused him to jerk his head back in the direction of the noise: the woman had dropped the poor man. She jerked her head back and licked her fingers noisily. She brushed her hair back quickly and easily, as if she had done this often.
Huck just stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, before coming to his senses. He casually walked out into the open space of the library, gaining the attention of most of the others. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Well, this sure as hell beats any haint I ever saw back in Missouri."
The woman looked uncomfortable for a moment before turning a glare on Huck. "And you are?"
"Huck Finn, of the American Secret Service," he said, clutching his Winchester tightly as if it comforted him.
"Then America is aware of the situation?"
"Well, they figure if it starts in Europe, it won't take long to get across the Atlantic." The woman flipped her red scarf over her shoulder slightly disdainfully. "I've been staking this place out for a while, and, well… when the opportunity provided itself, I took it."
"Well, I'm taking this opportunity to inform you that this is a private party, not to mention private property, and you're not invited," said a sneering man with a dark complexion and a pinstripe suit on, complete with matching cane. Huck suddenly found a deep dislike growing within him. A thought nagged him at the back of his head, but he pushed it back into the background.
The woman, dressed in black with a bright red scarf tight around her neck, turned to face Huck. A slightly triumphant smile graced her flawless features. "Actually, Dorian had declined. So we are one shy of a full deck."
"On the contrary; the battle was just the spur I needed." Dorian turned to Huck, haughtiness evident in his voice. "So you're not needed."
Huck's anger flared up. He said, "Well, mister, the way I figured it, since we're both trying to get the Fantom, and we're both not gonna stop, if we weren't together we'd be a powerful hindrance to each other."
Huck was saved from further having to go into explanation by the man who Huck had seen before walked towards him. He held out his hand expectantly and Huck begrudgingly handed his prized Winchester to the man. The man put the gun up to his eye as if inspecting it. "Winchester?" he asked.
Huck nodded and hooked his thumbs in the holsters of his Colts, close enough that he could whip them out quickly. At these thoughts his eyes shifted over to Dorian and flipped back to the man before him. "Modified—American style."
"American style shooting, too."
Huck shrugged. "Can't complain. It gets the job done." The other man handed Huck back his gun. Huck saw his window of opportunity closing. If he didn't join these people, he would have almost no hope of finding the Fantom on his own. "Listen, no matter who you find, you won't find anyone more dedicated to finding the Fantom than me."
The man smiled, as if remembering something sad, and said quietly, "You're in."
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Huck quickly found out the names of his counterparts in the 'League of Extraordinary Gentleman'. Dorian Gray, who was an immortal, Allan Quatermain, a hunter, Rodney Skinner, who was invisible, Captain Nemo, whose services had yet to be revealed to Huck, and Mina Harker, who was a vampire.
"So what's our next port of call?" Gray asked. Huck didn't know what it was, but something about Gray made him shudder.
"Paris. There is one last member to recruit," said Nemo
"Capture is more the word, and it will be quite the hunt," Quatermain said.
Mina looked at them oddly. "You make him sound like some kind of animal."
Quatermain turned and looked at Mina slightly questioningly. "Oh, speaking thus, Mrs. Harker, your conduct, a moment ago?"
Skinner turned, amusement evident in his face. "Yes, we're all aquiver to know," he said.
Mrs. Harker walked out ahead of the rest of the group. Quietly she told them of what had happened. Huck was filled with sympathy. Strangely enough, she reminded him of Mary Jane. Pretty and full of sand.
Suddenly the waters began churning ahead of the dock. "Ah, our transportation is forthcoming."
"A boat?" Huck asked. Suddenly he felt himself grow eager. He hadn't been on a boat for a while(excluding the trip to Europe) and he was impatient to get back to one.
"It travels on water, if that's what you mean," said Nemo, turning to face them and crossing his arms over his chest. Out of nowhere, a gigantic metal ship surged out of the water, towering high above their heads. The entire league craned their necks to see the silver inscriptions on it. "And beneath it."
"That beats the hell out of any steamboat I ever saw," Huck said in a whisper.
As they boarded, the little nagging thought at the back of his head finally came to the fore: if the house belonged to Gray, how had the Fantom's men acquired a key?
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This is off topic, but does anyone know for sure how Tom Sawyer's parents died?