Author's note: Thanks so much to Gambler and Bookie for their reviews; I really appreciate it, and I hope you like this part as well. Enjoy!
The air crackled with electricity and heat, dampening the dark curls on the back of Imogene's neck. Huddled in the corner of a doorway in an alley, she glanced at the darkening late afternoon sky and licked her upper lip anxiously. She knew that she had better hurry counting the coins she had earned that afternoon if she wanted time to find a dry, warm place to sleep that night.
"Forty-five and six is…is…" she mumbled and then scowled, frustrated. Is that thunder I hear? she wondered absently. Ah, damnit, it had to go and rain today of all days. Looking up from the coins that jingled in her lap, she muttered a series of curses. Stupid boy, she thought bitterly. Where is he? I told him to meet me here half an hour ago.
A shiver raced up and down her spine at the memory of Jack's tale of disappearing children. I wonder what happened to all of those street kids. She imagined crowded dungeons, tiny bodies floating in the rivers, and blades dangling above small heads. Shuddering violently, she rebuked herself for letting her imagination get the better of her. And no matter what's happenin' to the kids, it can't be worse than anythin' we ain't already faced, she thought as she pocketed her earnings.
The sound of clanging garbage cans caused the girl to jump to her feet, fits clenched in preparation for either a battle or a lecture. When a sleek, grimy alley cat slunk into view, Imogene's mouth dropped for a moment. Then, growling in humiliation and irritation, kicked a nearby wall. The cat hissed at her, bearing its teeth much like she knew she would react to the sight of her younger brother.
"Where is that boy?" she inquired of the feline, who began to lick its paw in indifferent response. Imogene refused to recognize the twisting of her stomach and rushed onto the sidewalk.
"Jean," she hissed, reminding herself of the cat she had just seen. "Jean, where are you?"
The pedestrians, just noticing the change in weather, were beginning to hurry home after a long day of either working or shopping or visiting friends. Imogene's forehead furrowed in concern as she pondered how she would find one small boy in such a big city. Jack's warning echoed in her brain, giving her goose bumps (although she tried to blame them on the storm's chilling wind, which was sweeping down the streets). "Jean!" she shouted, unable to conceal the frenzy in her voice.
He'll be all alone in the rain, and who knows who's out there that would hurt a little kid, she told herself, then shook the thought from her head. You're going to find him, Imogene. You have to.
*****
She can wait another few minutes, Jean thought as he kicked a piece of glass into the middle of the street and watched a racing carriage shatter it into a million glittering shards. He knew it was irrational to feel so angry with his sister, but he could not help wanting to get a bit of revenge before nightfall. I'll show her I can handle myself just fine.
He glanced around the street, watching the denizens of the city hurry home before the storm. At the sight of a fat businessman studying his gold watch, the boy's mouth watered. I bet he's got some money—enough for dinner tonight, most likely , he thought, taking a step towards the beefy man.
His path was blocked by a policeman who stepped casually into the middle of the sidewalk. Silently cursing both men, Jean gave the policeman his most dashing smile. "Bonjour, monsieur," he drawled pleasantly.
The policeman raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Get home, boy. Your ma's prob'ly waitin' supper for ye."
Jean nodded. "Yes, sir. Have a good evening." With that, he whirled around on his heel and strolled away until he could no longer see the police officer.
Just not my day, Jean told himself consolingly as he eyed a few more pedestrians, most of whom had no more money than he did. If it hadn't been for that stupid police officer, I would have had a whole wallet to talk back to Imogene. Not that I care about what she thinks even a little bit. His cheeks burned in rage at the thought of his older sister.
The boy was so involved in his anger that he never heard the footsteps behind him, closing in. He never noticed the hand that reached from behind him to cover his mouth so that he could not hear his own scream for help.
*****
The pedestrians who passed Imogene tried to ignore the frantic, screaming girl as they rushed towards their homes. The distant rumble of thunder, the last reminder of what had been a warm summer, mixed with her cries. "Jean! Jean!" Occasionally she would latch onto a helpful-looking arm and implore, "S'il vous plaît, my brother, have you seen him?" The arm in question would undoubtedly pull away, its owner staring at her suspiciously as he marched away.
What have I done? What have I done?! Imogene demanded of herself as her eyes darted up alleys and down streets.
She did not know how she could have let things get so bad. He was angry with me, but does that mean he has to run away? I'll kill him if he suddenly shows up, smug grin on his stupid face. Unless someone has already killed him. The thought made her stomach turn. She did not allow herself the luxury of falling to her knees in fear; instead, she rushed down another street and shouted her brother's name.
In younger days, she would have prayed for her brother's safe return, pressing her palms together before a painting of the Virgin Mary. Now, with her shall wrapped around her like a security blanket and a packet of faded tarot cards in her pocket, she did not know whom to appeal to for her brother's life. Part of her wanted to toss her deck of cards into the gutter and drop to her knees in distressed supplication. Another part of her realized that if she allowed herself that moment of desperation, she would be forced to admit that her rosary-wielding mother had been right about everything.
She would burn in hell.
The memory of a blade gleaming above her head, flashing cold in the candlelight, made her face pale. No, don't think about that now. Just try to find Jean. That's all that matters now.
The sky was growing darker with each passing second. Imogene wished that she had a companion to help search for Jean, someone who could offer comfort and assurance. Instead, she turned her eyes to find someone whose presence made her skin prickle with anger. She marched towards him, eyes flashing dangerously and fingers arched like weapons.
*****
Now that David and Les had rushed home, Jack stood alone on the corner, two newspapers still tucked under his arm. His friends had invited him home for dinner, but he had politely declined them, saying that he had promised to join Briar and Race at Irving Hall later that evening. Not dat I'll evah get deah if I don't sell dese papes. A hundred and twenty ta sell in one day! Ya're gettin' too cocky, Jacky-boy, he told himself, a remark that he would never dare to repeat to his fellow newsies. He was chuckling under his breath when he heard a furious voice shrieking like a banshee. Turning, he saw a frazzled girl approach him with the speed and intensity of a runaway train.
It's dat goil, he realized, holding up his hands as though in defense.
"I'll kill you!" she was screaming, her face contorted in fury. "If you even touched a hair on his head, I'll kill you! I'll absolutely kill you, you bastard!"
"Hold on," he replied, taking a step backwards and glaring at her fiercely. "What da hell did I do?"
"You did somethin' to Jean, I know it!" she cried. Her eyes sparkled with tears and her voice was suddenly choked. Her arms shook so badly that she clenched her hands into fists, hoping to appear more in control of the situation. If he hurt Jean, I'll murder him, she told herself fervently. There's nothin' that'll stop me from killin' him here and now. "Why else would he be gone? You did somethin' to him and I'll kill you!"
"Look, I didn't do not'ing ta da kid. None of us did," he defended himself, wondering what in the world could have happened to make her scream at him so. And all I wanted ta do was sell my papes. Jus' ain't my day. "I don't know what da hell ya're talkin' about."
Imogene's body tensed, as though in preparation to lunge at him and scratch his eyes out. Jack stared at her solemnly, waiting for the attack. Instead, the girl crumbled to the ground, her body quaking with the voice of an earthquake and her declarations barely coherent through her tears. "I'll kill you if you did anythin' to him," she murmured as she wrapped her arms around her torso and gently rocked herself. What she really wanted to do was end it all right there, to simply disappear like her brother had. A city of thousands and I'm all alone, she thought, unable to breathe through the sobs that gripped her throat.
A distant internal voice told Jack that this was certainly no problem of his, that she had irritated him to no end for the passed couple of days, and that he should simply stroll back to the lodging house with a clear conscience. Then, somewhat against his will, he softened. Wouldn't ya feel da same way if Books or Les was suddenly missin'? he asked himself. Cautiously, he knelt before her, reaching out an arm and touching her gently on her shoulder.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he mumbled as consolingly as he could. "I'm shoah your bruddah's around heah somewheah." When her only reply was a noisy sob, he continued, "Look, it's gonna pour soon. Let's get ya ta da lodgin' house and we'll all help ya find your bruddah, huh?"
Jack was half-surprised when, after a moment of contemplation, Imogene slowly nodded her head. When the two rose to their feet, Jack wondered if he should put an arm of solace around her shuddering shoulders. He quickly thought better of it.
I'm shoah I'll regret dis in an hour, he thought as he guided her to the lodging house. Still, he could not help worrying that Jean had disappeared in the same manner as those other children. He said a swift and silent prayer for his concern to be in vain.
To be continued…please review (I'll even thank you in the next chapter!)