A/N: Never EVER go to college…just kidding…sorry it took so long…

Chapter 5:

Skittery knew the house as though he'd lived there his entire life. When he entered the drawing room, a little boy was kneeling in front of the fireplace, on the warm wooden floor, squinting in the pale light at the small print in a thick book. Too thick for him, thought Skittery. He moved closer, but just as he did, another figure stepped inside, this one a taller version of the boy, but wearing spectacles and sporting a thin mustache that curled up at the ends.

"Darling boy, what are you doing in here?" The man asked jovially, lifting the boy from the floor and then swinging him in the air. The boy squealed. "I was readin'!" he announced proudly when his father had set him down. He picked up the book and handed it to his father who studied the title. "A Brief History of the World," he read. "Well, it doesn't seem very brief does it? What are you so interested in the world for anyway?"

The boy shrugged. "Maybe I'll have to go there someday."

"Well then, it's best if you're going to see the world, you brush up on a bit of its important history, wouldn't you say?"

The boy nodded eagerly, and then after his father had settled into a big armchair beside the fireplace, he settled into the older man's lap. "Now, where did you leave off?"

The boy pointed.

"Oh, well, the very beginning is the best place to start anyway."

Skittery watched the man's mouth move, listened to the soothing and familiar voice as the words entered his ears. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed. It started to grow colder suddenly and when Skittery opened his eyes, the fire had been doused, and the man and boy were gone. He heard a whimper behind him and he spun around to find himself lost in the darkness. "Who's there?" he called.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out a solitary figure huddled in the middle of the floor.

"Who are you?" he asked, stepping closer.

The figure turned its head and opened two large, frightened eyes, which Skittery could see clearly even the darkness. It was the boy. Skittery knelt down beside him. "Awright there?"

The boy stood up and held out a hand, which Skittery accepted.

They were in another room, this one dark and cold, but lighter than the previous one. The boy held Skittery's hand tightly and then with his left hand pointed toward the doorway. "Go look," he whispered.

Skittery didn't want to. He knew from the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that whatever was through that doorway was not good. But the boy was insistent, and Skittery relented. His breathing grew heavier with every succeeding step, and his stomach was in knots.

When he reached the doorway, he hesitated. He turned back toward the boy, but he was gone. Skittery wanted to stop right there, to turn around and go back to the room with the fireplace and the boy and his father, but invisible hands seemed to be pushing through the doorway, and the more he struggled, the harder they pushed until he was in the adjacent room. He shut his eyes, and a horrendous smell filled his nostrils. He reached behind his blindly for the doorknob, but it seemed to have disappeared. As he felt for it in the darkness, the entire door seemed to have disappeared. Desperately, he cried for someone, anyone, to help him, but instead he heard a shrill scream from somewhere behind him, a woman's voice. Then there was a thud, more shouts, a scuffle, and then silence.

Skittery opened his eyes and found himself standing in front of the fireplace. Then Jacob was standing in front of him, a small grin on his lips. "Murderer," Jacob whispered. Skittery stepped backward, closer to the roaring fire. Jacob's eyes landed on Skittery's left hand, and when Skittery looked down, he was clutching a bloody knife. "No," he said. The knife, wet with warm blood, slipped from his shaking hand, and clanged against the bare wood floor.

Skittery sat up, drenched in a cold seat, his breathing heavy, and his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

"I'm sorry," said a voice. It was a female voice, one he'd heard before. "I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said. Skittery took in his surroundings as his vision focused and his eyes adjusted in the dim morning light. He remembered where he was when he saw Anne's unruly red hair at the foot of his bed. Her face looked fresh and her eyes wide and shiny as she apologized again. "Clumsy me. I dropped my pitcher and I'm afraid I've smashed it to pieces." She smiled. "Hurry and get dressed James. Jacob doesn't like to wait breakfast."

Skittery nodded, and then untangled himself from his blankets. He stumbled toward the bureau where his new clothes were pile neatly. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had the same face as his father; it was something he'd forgotten. He didn't know why he was suddenly dreaming about things he'd spent so many years trying to bury, to forget.

He noticed that Anne had managed to get a little bit of water into the basin before she'd dropped the pitcher. He made use of a nearby wash cloth, soaked it in the cold water and then draped it over his face.

After a few minutes, he collected his thoughts, and then, dressed in the clothes that Jacob had provided, headed downstairs for the first hot breakfast he'd had in months.

…

"Something wrong?"

"Nah."

"James, I have never in my many years on this planet seen a boy your age turn down food, especially when I have done the cooking." Anne sat down in the chair beside him, staring intently at the side of his face, willing him to face her.

He continued his study of the tablecloth and remained silent. She opened her mouth to speak again, no doubt more probing questions, when Jacob appeared in the room looking hurried. He pulled at the knot in his tie, and in record time, downed a large glass of water.

His attention turned to Skittery. "I trust you know the way to your school by now," he said. "I unfortunately cannot drive you today as I am late for a meeting of utmost importance. Don't dawdle home this afternoon like you usually do. We have a cleansing."

Then, just as Skittery opened his mouth to ask what a cleansing was, Jacob was gone. They heard the front door slam shut a minute later. "What's a cleansing?" Skittery asked Anne.

"Now you want to talk, do you?" She started to clear the breakfast dishes from the table, and Skittery helped, hoping his assistance would make her more willing to answer his questions.

She dodged the question entirely. Instead, she explained to him why Jacob was the way he was. "He's really quite brilliant, you know." Skittery tuned her out for awhile and when he started paying attention again, she was on a tirade about how bad people always do bad things. "You can't really take the bad out of them. Take Martin Gerloff…"she trailed off.

Skittery looked up at her. "Who's that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have said anything. He was a bad man."

Skittery tried to press her for more details but she stubbornly refused to tell him anything. "You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry." She pushed him out of the kitchen and to the front hall where he grabbed his coat. "Remember what Jacob said, no dawdling."

"Yeah yeah." She kissed him on the cheek and then sent him on his way.

Skittery didn't go to school that day. The truth was he hadn't gone to school at all. Jacob dropped him off by the big wrought iron gate every morning, and then drove away without a glance backward. Skittery was grateful for that and used the opportunity to steal away and explore this new section of town.

Today, however, he had specific business, and hurried into town to find an old friend.

…

Jacob was waiting for him inside the door that afternoon, a pile of black material in his arms. "I told you not to be late," he said calmly.

"Sorry, sir. I—"

"What's all that?"

Skittery looked down at the pile of papers in his hands. "Uh…just for practicin' my letters."

"That's a good lad. I always love to see a young mind so indulged in his studies." Jacob seemed to remember then that there was a reason he had told Skittery to hurry home. He shoved the material into Skittery's arms and said, "hurry upstairs and put this on." Skittery did as he was told.

Skittery felt like he was drowning in the robe. He felt small and vulnerable and wanted nothing more than to take the offending article of clothing off. When he emerged again at the base of the stairs, Jacob stood there, dressed in the same black robe, talking with another man who seemed vaguely familiar.

"Ah, James. This is Peter. He is the newest member of our congregation, and will be joining us in our endeavors tonight." Skittery shook Peter's hand and then followed the two men through the door.

He wanted his stick, but Jacob had confiscated it on his first day of school claiming that "such precautions are foolish and unnecessary." He had assured Skittery that he would not need to defend himself at school. Educated children were civilized after all. Skittery didn't believe him, and that was why he had opted to skip school altogether. In the long run, he decided, it would be safer.

The three men crammed themselves into the back of the horse drawn carriage. "I've heard the most glorified compliments of your organization Jacob and I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it."

Jacob beamed. "I only do what the Lord asks."

"Those street rats deserve what they get. A woman named Abigail Thompson told me she saw the whole lot of them sharing a bottle of whiskey behind the church house. Of all places!"

Skittery gulped. He'd gone with his friends plenty of times to churchyards to share a bottle of stolen liquor, compliments of Snitch. They figured it would be the safest place not to get caught. Who would suspect anyone of drinking stolen liquor on holy ground? Skittery felt a pang of dread creep through him. He hoped silently that they were not going to the lodging house.

All too soon, the carriage stopped and Skittery was outside again. It was dark, and a group of a dozen or so other men, all donning the same black robes, stood in a close group as Jacob lit a torch and then turned to address them.

"Brothers!" There was an outburst of applause. Skittery looked around at the cheering men, trying to recognize any of them. "We are gathered here on this fateful evening to continue the cleansing process of this city!" Another cheer. Jacob lowered his voice when he continued. "Sad to say, our villains tonight are a group of boys. Unmannered and uncultured, they participate in the dark activities that bring down this great city. Tonight, we shall rid the city of them! To Brooklyn!"

Skittery watched the men excitedly approach the carriages, unsure that he had heard Jacob correctly. They were going to Brooklyn?

Skittery found himself squished into the carriage again, this time Peter had been replaced by a large, burly man who smelled as though he'd had too much to drink. We should cleanse him, Skittery thought to himself.

"Keep an eye on John, Jacob. I don't trust him and neither should you."

"I'll trust whom I see fit," Jacob replied. "I've heard of John's dealings with a certain bartender, and that cannot be overlooked."

"I heard he took in one of those orphan boys."

"Yes. We must deal with that issue as well." Jacob refused to look at Skittery for the rest of the trip.

"Why are we goin' to Brooklyn?" Skittery asked, suddenly. "Ain't that a different city? What's it got to do with Manhattan?"

"Who is this chump?" The large man asked. Skittery glared at him.

"I ain't no chump."

"Listen to him. He can't even talk right."

Skittery would have punched the man right then but he was squeezed between the two men so tightly, he wouldn't have gotten the desired effect.

Jacob laid a hand on Skittery's shoulder. "People from Brooklyn intermingle with people from all over New York. Brooklyn is a dirty city, dirtier than ours even. If we filter out the bad now, it will be easier to keep the good in our city."

"That don't make no sense."

"Maybe not right now, but in the long run, you'll see the effects."

Then Jacob addressed the large man. "This is my nephew, James, from Philadelphia. James, this is my business associate, Paul."

Paul grunted, and Skittery continued to glare at him. He could tell already that he and Paul were not going to have a good relationship.

The carriage lurched to a halt and Skittery felt himself being jostled around by the other men, all speaking in hushed tones. A few of them lit torches as Jacob called them into a circle. "John. You'll do the honors of locking the door and setting the flame." The man who was John nodded.

Skittery stared at the lodging house in front of him. On warm nights, the boys would have been sleeping on the docks not too far away, but on cold ones, a boy would be crazy to sleep outside.

Jacob gave whispered orders to the others who scattered around, silently creating barriers over the windows. Skittery heard stirring inside and searched frantically around for a way to warn the boys inside.

The boys inside were awake and pushing on the door when John reached for the lock. A heavy shove from inside knocked the door ajar and John struggled to hold it closed.

"Help me, boy!" John hissed at Skittery. Skittery shook his head.

"Don't be daft. Help me get this door locked." Skittery breathed heavily and he neared the door, and then saw his chance. The lock dangled in front of him.