Disclaimer: Here we go, the next part of Here be Dragons, I'm glad everyone is enjoying it so far! There will be no updates from any of my stories for the next few weeks as I am going on holiday in two hours. Thank you for all the reviews, here are the shout outs;

Marcus Lazarus:- Well, as you shall see in later chapters, they think the fire was deliberate yes, but that is was just someone putting fire to it. As to the Dragons, well you will have to just wait and see. Hyde may be able to stop some dragons, as there will be different types in this story.

Clez:- Guess what, Skinner's losing himself in booze. Come on, it wouldn't be a story by me if it was all plain sailing ;)

The Lady Thief:- Ah, but this is not the Skinner we know from the movie. This is a Skinner five years afterwards, in a pit of unhappiness. Thanks for the compliments!

Lady Lilrin:- It was a rather nasty way to go, wasn't it. Ohh, Trip cut-out! You're too kind.

Sawyer Fan:- Maybe he is and maybe he isn't. ::Looks mysterious:: Even though he was killed, there will be a lot of him in the story, through flashbacks, dreams etc. And as for that scene you remember... that was a flashback ;)

queerquail:- Well, let's put the dead Tom question this way. The League think he's dead. He was buried. People however, say they have seen him alive.

Artemis Gray:- ::Blushes:: Thanks! Well, Mina will certainly try to reform the League, but I doubt it will be that simple...

Raven Silvers:- ::Patpat:: There, there... at least Skinner is alive eh? It's better than him being dead. And please don't set Mina on me! Please!

Niani:- He will make a decent appearance yes, and there will be Skinner angst and Skinner torture. As for Tom torture... flashbacks are so useful!

Kingleby:- Aww, don't cry!

Funyun:- Glad you like it.

And now...

Here Be Dragons

Chapter 2:- To the Slaughter

Mrs. Dickensian opened the door of her boarding house, stepping out into the neat little garden. She placed her hands on her hips, breathing in deeply, taking in the sea air. It was a habit of hers, to take in the air before staring the days chores. At 44 years of age, Mrs. Dickensian had seen it all and took no nonsense from any of her guests. If they didn't pay, they didn't stay, it was as simple as that. At the same time though, she was also a generous and kind hearted woman who would protect those she liked as though they were her own flesh and blood. And it had been nearly three years since her Billy...

Shaking her head, the woman moved down the garden path, towards the small herb garden. If she was going to cook lamb for her guests tonight, then she would need some fresh rosemary. People came to her boarding house because the price was decent and the food was good. There was an air of respectability about Mrs. Dickensian and she was the sort of women people could depend on.

I have lived my life and what good has come of it? She allowed a hint of dismay to creep into her thoughts as she painfully bent down to pick some rosemary. She was old, her bones and grey hair told her that, even if her mind and heart said otherwise. Yet, Mrs. Dickensian had few regrets, she had lived longer than most people she knew, she had raised a family and now ran a business that could allow her to live. Yes, she had a good life. In all her life, only two clouds had over shadowed it.

There was the death of her Billy, her little boy, the youngest of her children to reach adulthood. Five had lived to grow up but Billy had always been her favourite, the one she spoilt. For him to have been taken away from her, in such a cruel manner, it was all most too much to bare. His death had caused quite a lot of talk among the village. The widowed Mrs. Dickensian had never quite recovered from the loss of her son and some of the more malicious gossipers claimed that it had addled her brain. She was sometimes seen talking to herself and taking long walks alone. If questioned on her actions though, she would brightly reply that she wasn't alone. People asked who her invisible friend was. At this the widow would become quiet and refuse to answer any more questions. So public opinion of her was that she was slightly batty but harmless.

Her joints cracked and ached in protest as she straightened back up, the desired rosemary in her hands. The women sighed as she stared out over her garden towards the sea. A shadow fell on the ground beside her and it took all of her self-control not to gasp, for she had not heard the person come up beside her.

"Good morning Mrs. Harker." Mrs. Dickensian said without turning her head. She knew only one person who could walk along the gravel path without making any noise, her longest lodger – the almost recluse Mrs. Harker. She knew the stories about the women, who didn't? In truth, such stories be they fact or fiction, mattered little to her. The women, vampire, whatever she was, had moved into Mrs. Dickensian's boarding house not long after the loss of her Billy and she had been a God send to the mourning mother. She had thrown herself into mothering Mina Harker, rather to the vampire's bemusement. After a while, the two had reached a compromise and Mina would let the other mother her, in return for the rest of her time spent in privacy.

"Good morning Mrs. Dickensian." Mina answered, her tone of voice always just the correct sound. Mrs. Dickensian looked over at her for the first time. She noticed the small valise resting on the ground and her face lit up.

"Oh, Mrs. Harker, have you finally seen sense? Are you going to fix it?" Mrs. Dickensian asked hopefully. Mina raised an eyebrow and nodded gracefully, allowing a hint of a smile to touch her lips.

"You are correct. I am returning to London today." She answered.

"Well, it's about time." Mrs. Dickensian said, the disapproval clear in her voice. "I don't know what you were thinking, letting yourself split up. Did you really think that's what the boy would have wanted?" She shook her head. "You may be older than me by many years Mrs. Harker, but bless me, when it comes to matters of the heart, if you're not as thick as any human!" She tutted and began to move back to the house, the rosemary still held in her hand. At the door she paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Don't you be giving up so easily this time, you hear me? And make sure you eat well, I don't want to find out you've been skimping on food. Oh, I don't know where you will be able to find some decent home cooked food in London. Take care of yourself, you hear me?" Her voice softened at the last seven words and she fixed Mina with the steady gaze that only a mother can give. For a second Mina found herself feeling like a child again. She nodded mutely and Mrs. Dickensian smiled, making a shooing monition with her hands. The women watched Mina pick up the valise and glide down the path, heading for the small train station. Wiping her eyes – surprised at the wetness she found there – Mrs. Dickensian turned and headed inside, knowing she was going to miss her tenant. She made her way into the small sitting room at the back of the house. The fire had been lit to help warm the room up and she sighed with contentment as she sat down in her seat. The cooking of the lamb could wait a few minutes as she relaxed, Mrs. Dickensian reasoned.

"You'll be alright now my lad..." she muttered to herself as she felt sleep taking hold. "Mrs. Harker will sort things out, you'll see." She yawned and her eyes fluttered closed as she drifted off into a light sleep.

---

Skinner was not in a good mood. The light drizzle, which seemed to be a constant fixture to London, along with the fog, was doing nothing to lift his spirits. He pulled the brim of his hat further over his painted face, trying to keep it dry. Part of Skinner didn't even know why he bothered to keep up the appearance of being visible – it wasn't as if anyone bothered about what he looked like, not any more.

After the League has gone their separate ways – Mina to roam England, searching for some kind of peace; Dr. Jekyll throwing himself into his research; Captain Nemo returning to India and Tom in a hole in the ground – Skinner had returned to his less law abiding ways. He didn't see much point of leading a respectable life, not when no one cared and no one could see him anyway.

For the past five or so years, Skinner had lived an alcohol induced haze, only returning to a sober state when his money ran dry and he was forced to do a job. His skill was in high demand and so only the very big pay off's attracted him now, when he knew his share would fund a few weeks of his habit.

He had been reasonably happy as well – well as happy as a man with no life, no future and no friends could get. Mostly he would spend his nights going from pub to pub, trying to pick a fight, get drunk, anything to dull the pain or even kill it completely.

It had been bad enough when all I knew was Tom had died and I was there, but now... to remember it all... oh God, that death... His thoughts were more coherent than normal, as the dream had shaken him sober, even after a few whiskey's to try and clam his racing heart. Skinner had never remembered what had happened that day, it had all been blurred because of a head injury. He wasn't sure what had awoken his memory but he had an uncomfortable feeling that his life was about to change.

"Oh no." He vowed, lifted a gloved hand to the rain and clouds. "Not again, do you hear me? I'm not going through all that again, so you can just forget any plans you have for me. I'm not interested in this destiny stuff so put that out of your mind right now!" He ranted, shaking his fist at the sky. As if to mock him, the heavens opened, causing the rain to suddenly fall heavily, just as he looked upwards. The large raindrops mixed with the greasepaint, causing the thief's very face to simply melt away. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and lowed his gaze, heading towards a pub, intent on drinking until he passed out.

From the shadows of the building opposite a figure watched, before turning away and vanishing down an alleyway.

---

Now that Mina had time to simply sit and think, she began to question her choice. What if her dream had simply been that – a dream? She could be simply raking up old hurts and opening wounds that were best left alone. Was she ready to face Henry Jekyll and the rest again? Because she knew she would have to face Jekyll first, as he was the only one whose whereabouts she knew for sure. From him, she hoped to learn something about the recent activities of Mr. Skinner. If not, she would have to hunt through London, inch by inch. If there was any chance of avenging Agent's Sawyer's death, then she would take it.

The memory of that last mission still weighed heavily on her mind. Only it wasn't really a mission, not really. It was a trap, from the very start. And the League had fallen for it, hook, line and stinker. She closed her eyes and allowed the flashes of memory to surface. She could remember as clear as day, the look on Mr. Holmes face as he told them. Just a small matter he had assured them, that of a man who seemed to be getting ideas above his station. While the world was not in great peril, there was a very good possibility, that, left unchecked, this man could very put it in such a position.

Like lambs to the slaughter... they had gone and latter Tom and Skinner had gone to investigate an abandoned building that the man had once used. The rest of the League had gone to talk to some people who claimed to know the man. By the time they realised they had been set up – they were too late. They found Tom dead and Skinner unconscious near by.

A day later the man they were investigated was found dead, believed to have taken his own life. And foolishly, stricken with grief, the League had left it that. What if they had been wrong? What if the man's death had been murder, what if Tom had been murdered? It was all to much for her to think about now and she lowered her gaze to the slim book of poetry she had brought along for the journey.

She didn't notice the tiny blue creature that flashed by her window for a second. She didn't see it return to the very edge of her window frame, it's tiny liquid gold eyes watching her before narrowing into tiny slits. The blue creature spread it's wings and shot upwards, vanishing into the smoke above the train – not that anyone saw.

---

First mate Patel frowned as he stared down at the piece of paper, delivered to him from a man in the English army base. A telegram to the Captain... but how did they know where to send it? Out of everywhere in India, how did this person know to send it to that army base? He folded the telegram over and placed it in his pocket. His captain was not aboard at the moment, but he knew Captain Nemo would want this as soon as possible.

MRS WILHELMINA HARKER IN GREAT DANGER STOP CAPTAIN NEMO IS REQUESTED TO RETURN TO LONDON TO SAVE THE WORLD STOP IF HE DOES NOT TERRIBLE EVENTS WILL TAKE PLACE STOP THERE IS LITTLE TIME STOP A FRIEND STOP

To Be Continued...

Thank you for your reviews, you are all wonderful, especially for not killing me. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this part.

- Sethoz