Disclaimer: ditto

Chapter 8:

"You look nice, Skittery."

"It's James, Denton. You gotta remember that. And if Jacob asks, I was at school everyday."

Denton put his hands on Skittery's shoulders and looked him in the eyes, smiling. "Don't worry Skittery."

"James!"

Denton laughed. "I know I know."

"Stop playin' games, Denton. I gotta make this look real."

"James, where is Miss Nelson?" Jacob stopped beside Skittery and looked Denton over. "Who's this?"

"I am Jonathon Nelson," Denton said, putting out a hand, which Jacob shook. "I'm afraid my wife has fallen ill and has sent me in her place to speak with the parents. Are you James's father?"

Jacob smiled. "I am. I was unaware that Miss, sorry Mrs. Nelson was sick. Did it just occur? She looked well two days ago."

"It came on pretty quickly." Skittery felt his heartbeat speed up, hoping that Miss Nelson wasn't anywhere in the near vicinity. It was obvious that she and Jacob knew one another and if he had only seen her two days before, there was a good chance he would see her again.

Skittery hoped he could be away from Jacob by then. He'd seen what happened to John, and he had no doubt in his mind that he would suffer the same fate.

It suddenly occurred to him that Jacob and Denton had been carrying on a conversation to which he had been totally unaware. Now they were both looking at him expectantly.

Skittery gulped. "Don't be shy, boy," Jacob said.

"Um…I was just telling Mr. Loffstetter how much we've been learning about in history."

"Oh…"

Jacob laughed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nelson. The lad has had quite a week."

"Don't we all?" They laughed again and Skittery caught Denton's eye for a second. Denton winked and Skittery let out a breath. Perhaps he would make it out of this alive after all.

….

"I must admit, I am frightfully disappointed that you couldn't even recite your history lesson," Jacob said, hanging his hat on a hook. "Well, what's done is done." With his hands on his hips, he looked down his long nose at Skittery. "I hope you're prepared for our cleansing tonight."

Skittery must have looked surprised then because Jacob frowned.

"I-I thought it was next week."

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind to tell you. We've pushed it up." Jacob removed his coat and then settled into his big easy chair. He kept his eyes on Skittery the entire time.

"Why?"

"My motives really are just that. Mine…" Jacob trailed off. "We think there may still be a rat amongst us."

Skittery gulped and then immediately regretted it. "A rat?" He choked the words out.

Jacob looked amused. "A rat indeed. See, we have an informant that, well, keeps us informed. He warned us that our targets somehow found out about the cleansing and have planned a counter attack."

"Who would—?"

"Who would is just what I have been asking myself." Jacob stood up again, and started to move toward Skittery. "I thought we'd fixed our little problem when we got rid of John, oh yes, we got rid of him." Skittery started to back up as Jacob moved closer.

"I pondered for a very long time, young James. Who among us could be a traitor? Surely not Peter, I trust him with my life. There are a few others who I have been keeping a very close eye on. It didn't occur to me that the perpetrator may be living in my own house."

He was less than an inch from Skittery, and Skittery was frozen, unable to move away though his life depended on it.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You can drop the act now, boy. When I found you on the street, something about you struck me and I couldn't figure out what it was. So I decided maybe you had potential, and I took you under my wing. I taught you, fed you, I put a roof over your head. I gave you a family, James. And how do you repay me?"

Jacob grabbed Skittery by the collar and pulled him out of his office toward the back door. He threw him Skittery off of the porch where he landed at the feet of Jacob's men, dressed from head to toe in black robes.

Skittery scrambled to his feet. "Please, Jacob, I didn't—"

"It's too late for apologies, my young friend. You see. Upon careful research, I discovered why you stood out amongst those ruffians. You looked so much like someone I once knew. And once you were cleaned up, fed and taught a few manners, you came to be almost an exact replica of someone whom I despised more than anyone I have ever met." Skittery felt arms clasp onto his and realized the men in black were holding him. He tried to pull free.

"My daughter, my pride and joy, made the biggest mistake of her life when she married that dirty Mick." Jacob was coming down the steps now, crossing the lawn. He was a foot away from Skittery when he raised his hand and struck.

The sting brought tears to Skittery's eyes, but he blinked them away, unwilling to show weakness.

"You're insane," Skittery hissed.

Jacob laughed. "I'm beyond insane, James. I have made it a personal vow to destroy everything in this city that is dirty. So no father ever has to watch their daughter whither away as I did mine."

He punched Skittery in the stomach, and if Skittery hadn't been held back, he would have doubled over.

"You killed her," he said quietly. "You murdered your own daughter."

"She wasn't my daughter, foolish boy. My daughter died the day she gave her life over to that…scum."

Skittery felt another blow to his face, this one harder than the first and aimed right at his eye. "Now I have a chance to finally destroy the thing that has been haunting my dreams all these years."

"What are you talking about?"

"My last and only living grandson. I have been searching for years…I've finally found you."

"No! You don't know what you're saying—" a hand was put over his mouth and his sentence was cut short. A million emotions were running through his mind. It couldn't be true.

"Now I can finish what I started."

…

Jack couldn't sleep. They'd spent the week planning for their surprise attack. Only two more days to go. Jack hadn't slept a week. And from the deep circles beneath Spot's eyes, the young Brooklyn-ite hadn't either.

It was pointless to lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nervous, but he couldn't leave his boys. Not now. Even with Skittery's help, Jack felt hopeless. They'd been watching the papers nervously, making note of every detail, of every attack Jacob and his men launched.

There seemed to be no escape.

Then there was a loud crash downstairs. Jack wasn't the only boy who leapt out of bed, and barefoot, clad only in his underclothes, ran down to the source of the noise.

They had come early. "Get the door!" Jack shouted. He didn't notice who obeyed his order or if anyone did, he ran to the nearest window and began to kick, push, and hit at the boards that covered it. The glass was gone, broken shards outlined the frame and Jack sliced his foot on one as he attacked the board with vengeance.

"It's no use!" Someone shouted.

Jack would have none of it. Why hadn't he heard the pounding of hammers, the other windows breaking? He'd been awake, alert.

He felt two hands pull him away from the window and he struggled against them.

"Get offa me," he shouted.

"Jack you're bleeding."

"So what? Let me go!"

"Let someone else do it."

As the voice behind him spoke, someone moved in front of Jack and took over the window he had been banging on.

"Skittery lied to us," Jack said, letting himself be led away from the action, to a corner, still unaware of who was aiding him.

"Maybe he was just misinformed," said the voice. "Stay here Jack. We're going to try and get us out." His savior disappeared and Jack leaned back against the wall.

Suddenly the dark room was lit by a burst of flame crawling into the room beneath the door. He could hear Kloppman's voice, shouting for someone to get water. A few pairs of feet hurried up the stairs.

Jack climbed to his feet. He wouldn't die without a fight.

There was shouting outside, angry shouting, but the words were muffled.

There was a hissing sound as a bucket of water was poured onto the flames, to no avail, the flames continued to creep inside, through the windows, beneath the door. Even the walls were ignited.

As Jack started to help with the water line, passing the bucket and then back, he felt his foot begin to throb painfully. He cringed but held his ground. It was all he could do.