Author's Note: O.O My god, it took me so long to update! Gah, cannot apologise enough, and only hope I haven't lost your attention . ::whacks self over head with frying pan:: Bad Clez! Okay… enough of that. On with the extra long chapter as compensation. Things are finally starting to pick up! Squee! .
Leigh S. Durron: That music seemed to send Mina bonkers ::stupid grin:: Couldn't you tell? Heh. And yes, Dorian got hurt because of the painting .
TARilus: Thank you. Dorian – as he will explain later – just wants to show Mina that he can still… what's the phrase… push her buttons, as it were. Dorian can explain it better, and with more venom, so I'll let him handle that later . Jerk is a little too mild for someone so wicked and conniving as Gray, don't you think? Hehe. Yup, Gray and Sawyer battle in the foreseeable future, but we've gotta work our way there. Sadly, can't do it yet. Oh yeah, Dorian-ass-kicking is needed, oh yes… and especially by the one he's been mocking. Uh huh. .
funyun: Best chapter yet? Cool. Hehe, glad you loved it ::bows:: I try my best. The whole Mina-music thing could have been a whole lot worse, yes. You were right about Ben. It's good ol' Ben Rogers from the books… I'd actually forgotten he was the first one to foolishly whitewash for Tom, hehehehe. And he did the steamboat impression ::snickers:: Hehe, you must have the gift of foresight ::LOTR flashback, shakes head:: Happy moment with the gun? Heh, good stuff. I'm reading the Portrait of Dorian Gray now, yes. It's a very good book. Hehe, Monopoly money! ::gladly accept Monopoly money, and gives you ticket::
Mrs. Mina Harker: Gah, sorry it took me so long! I'll let Dorian explain about the music later, 'kay? . And yes… everybody loves Sawyer/Mina relationship-ness! Heh… o.O
LotRseer3350: Thanks, both about the chapter in general, and the trance. Sorry about the wait.
Capt. Cow: Glad you loved the chapters. Dorian… has a habit of grating on people's nerves, doesn't he? It's like a gift! Take the cherry off, and I accept your pretty please… .
Drowchild: ::watches you:: Hehehehe… I think she's gone barmy. Well, barmier, anyway. .
Panzergal: Hi, and welcome to the story. Thank you very much for your compliments. Here's the update.
Graymoon74: Glad you liked the recording. She did indeed 'totally kiss Tom', as you put it . Thanks, and enjoy the update!
Sethoz: On the edge of your seat? ::tips you back on, so you don't fall:: Glad you enjoyed it. You may or may not be right with the music thing. You'll have to wait and see, heh. Mina and Tom kissing… don't we all love it? O.o And yes, I see what you mean, playing off Dorian and Becky… hehe, nicely spotted. ::watches you shake Tom, and steps in to intervene:: Now, now, I need him, don't rattle his brains about!
And now, with my heartfelt apologies regarding the delay, here is Part 12 of Ghosts of Old…
Panting heavily, perspiration beading his forehead – not the mention his chest and back – and exhaustion nearly boiling to the surface, Tom tore the sword upwards just in time to stop his opponent's weapon from crashing down against his skull. The metal sang madly as the blades collided and scraped together, and Tom winced at the loud sound that only intensified his headache. It seemed that since Mina had 'accidentally' reopened his head wound from the mutiny, he was getting the migraines a lot. A trip to Jekyll was in order, obviously. He had neglected to tell anyone why it had reopened. When he had gone back to Jekyll after the incident involving the mysterious recording, Tom had claimed he had carelessly caught it on something, and done it himself.
It was hard to tell if anyone believed him or not. Honestly, he didn't care, so long as no one persecuted Mina for it. It wasn't her fault. Or so he kept telling himself anyway. It was the music that had made her act so madly.
So long as you keep telling yourself that, you'll be fine, his mind chattered annoyingly as his arms strained to keep Nemo's blade away from his head, and he was forced to bow it, and with a slight growl, he turned his body away quickly, swinging the sword he was using in a savage, swift arc.
When he froze, Nemo's dark eyes regarded him with some triumph and bewilderment. Then he smiled very slightly, and Tom looked to the position of his sword. Whilst Nemo's blade was still down at his side, lowered to where the force of following through after the American had turned had taken the weapon, Tom's own was at the base of the Indian's neck, perfectly positioned for decapitation.
Panting heavily, and sweating – with his opponent annoyingly unaffected by the practise – Tom blinked once… twice, and opened his mouth slightly, as though to apologise.
"Congratulations, Agent Sawyer," Nemo said to him earnestly with a slight inclination of his head. "Finally you have succeeded in doing what I suspected you capable of all along. It seems, with determination and persistence, anything is possible."
Tom reacted after a moment, pulling the sword away, slowly at first, and then practically forcing himself to yank it away, and said, "Why didn't you stop me?"
"Because I could not," Nemo replied, as though the question were completely unnecessary. "Not in the time allotted to me, that is. You were simply too fast, and it was unexpected." He smiled again. "Two steps ahead, Agent Sawyer… remember this; it will serve you well in the future."
Tom stared down at the sword in his aching hands, stunned at what he had just accomplished, and then back at Nemo through a somewhat damp curtain of blonde hair, all over his brow. Was the captain telling him the truth, or simply indulging him?
No… there were no indulgences in combat. Such a trick would throw Tom off in the future. Nemo would never do that to him, Tom knew. He was comforted by that fact, and suddenly felt a little more certain of himself. Eyeing the man who had trained him so adeptly in the use of the sword, he smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said earnestly, noting the Indian's regal bow of the head.
"You are most welcome, Agent Sawyer. But remember… some opponents are not worth chasing into combat."
With that cryptic message hanging in the air, Nemo sheathed his ornate sword, and strode from the room, leaving a bemused Tom staring after him with a furrowed brow.
Becky sat huddled in the dark room with the door locked, and no windows to speak of, her arms hugged around her drawn up knees with her head leaning down, trying not to give in to despair at her situation. Something would happen… Tom, Huck and Joe would come, surely.
Joe… she hadn't really thought about him in depth since their break up, and now she supposed she had time to do so. Raising her head a little, with blonde hair in her eyes – not that it mattered with the practically non-existent lighting – she took to thinking. True, she had been happy with Joe for a time, but she had known in her heart that she could never have spent the rest of her life with him. He wasn't what she had wanted. That had only ever really been one person, and one person alone, and she hoped he knew who he was. Ever since the tender age of eleven – or thereabouts; she could rarely remember the specifics – Becky had been somewhat besotted with Tom Sawyer, despite her overwhelming act of rage and discontent when it had come to his choice to leave, and when he had informed her – via a letter – of Huckleberry Finn's apparent death. She knew she had acted irrationally, and she hoped that she would eventually be able to take it all back.
She didn't know how much time had gone past since her kidnapping. She could only guess, and her estimate was around two days so far. Becky had refused to eat or drink anything that Dorian Gray offered to her, though that had bored and irritated him to no end, it seemed. He had simply rolled his eyes and shut the door… and if it wasn't him doing the offering, it was his stupid servants. She didn't want their attention. She would rather starve or go thirsty… both, even.
Becky took to pondering where the Nautilus, the League, and her fellow Americans could be about now, and figured – in her not quite so expertly geographical mind – that they had to be somewhere near London by now… didn't they? It surely couldn't take this long unless…
What if something had happened to them? What if the men who had kidnapped her had done something to the Nautilus, or to the League or… to Tom? She shuddered involuntarily at the thought, terrified of the concept of losing him so soon after getting him back, and gave a sob that escaped before she could stop it.
That was when the handle on the door rattled, and she wiped the balls of her palms across her eyes to hastily clear the tears from her cheeks and face, reluctant to let anyone – especially Gray – see her in a moment of weakness. She had barely shown any so far, and didn't want to start now, of all times. It would give them – him – an advantage she didn't want them – him – to have… not at all. He would abuse it, and twist it to use it against her and the others she had obviously been captured in order to lure.
As the door opened inward, a sliver of light came with it, slowly growing and expanding, landing on her face and making her close her eyes for the intensity of it. It was obviously artificial, but it wasn't something she wasn't used to after being shut in the dark room for an unrecorded amount of time. She didn't like it one bit. She turned her face from the shaft of light, and shielded her eyes with a hand, even as the precise clicking of heels announced the approach of Dorian Gray.
"I don't want to have to physically lift you from the ground, Miss Thatcher," came his slow drawl of English perfection. It aggravated her to no end that even his voice was immaculate, intended to be so soothing – and for a time, it had been – but actually carrying a dislikeable hard edge that chilled her bones and twisted her stomach nauseatingly.
Becky lifted her face, slowly in order to let her blue eyes gradually adjust to the light, and forced herself to stand in order to prevent him from having to touch her. He made her skin crawl, and she let her eyes pass over the furiously handsome features… and froze when she saw his left cheek. It was scratched.
"Your face…"
"… Is none of your concern," Dorian stated blandly, eyeing his hands idly for a moment, before the cool gaze landed upon her face again, and she shivered. "It is almost time for you to leave my company. I would say it is sad to see you go – such a lovely specimen of femininity that you are – but we both know that would be a lie. You have not appreciated what I was willing to offer you… hospitality and warmth. You shunned it, and so I shunned you. Perfectly reasonable, despite what you may think."
"I don't care what you do with me," Becky hissed, trying to feign nonchalance and mix it with spite. She only managed the latter, and with quite an impressive amount of vehemence as well. She felt the anger bubbling up her throat as she spoke, just screaming to be released.
"Oh, I know that, Miss Thatcher," Dorian sighed. "However, you do care what I do with your precious Agent Sawyer. I imagine he will be one of those coming to 'rescue' you." Dorian rolled his eyes in the wan light, and chuckled quietly.
Becky seethed, shaking with rage now, and glared icily at the man standing before her. "Don't you touch him."
"I don't care to," he replied in a lazy fashion. "So long as he stays out of my way, I shall not touch a hair on his head." He laughed quietly again. "Though I can't say I wouldn't love to put the brat in his place."
With a snarl – most unbecoming of someone like herself – Becky lashed out with a hand, intending to slap his face, but he snatched up a hand of his own, and grabbed her wrist firmly, giving it a slight, suggestive squeeze. She gasped, and before she could stop him, his other hand came up and caressed her cheek as he spoke, "But perhaps there is another way that I could teach him a lesson…" He practically purred as he spoke, seductive gaze travelling over her face and neck, down her body.
Though she tried to stop them, the tears pushed to the surface again, and tumbled free.
"I could have my way with you right here, and he'd only know about it when he sees your eyes. The defeat and shame in them would be reward enough…"
Becky gave a quiet sob, balled her fists, and screwed her eyes shut, trying to keep from hearing his voice.
"Mr. Gray, sir… there is a messenger at the door," came the voice of the manservant, James, from just outside the room. "He states that your 'package' has come into the docks."
Dorian grinned, seductive, handsome, and wicked. "Excellent," he stated, and stepped back from Becky. "Have Miss Thatcher left in the appropriate place, will you, James? You know what to do. And gather Mitesh and his men, if you would. They'll be needed."
Without so much as a thank you to his compliant servant, Dorian was gone, leaving Becky to silence her sobs, even as James moved in to usher her away to wherever she was to be taken. As she was moved, she tried to fathom what this package could be… and then it hit her.
The League.
It was fully – as the phrase went – 'locked and loaded' that the League strode out from the Nautilus' bowels, guns, daggers and swords – amongst other things – tucked away. One Winchester rifle and an ornate sword were not so easily hidden though, but Captain Nemo and Tom Sawyer showed no intention of concealing the weapons from view. They travelled in a tight-knit group as they moved further and further away from the 'safety' of Nemo's 'Lady', but not one scrap of hesitation showed on the collected faces.
At least until Agent Sawyer turned and slowed anyway, finally matching pace with Mina. She was somewhat reluctant to walk with him after the unfortunate – and shameful – incident in her room, but tolerated the proximity nevertheless, if not for her own sake, or for his… then for the team's. If she understood correctly, no one knew of the kiss – among other things – whilst they had listened to the damned recording. It certainly was not something she wished to share or evaluate with the others.
"Are you sure about this?" Tom asked after a moment, hesitant in turning his youthful gaze upon her. When he did, however, it was not in the least hateful or cynical. It seemed – though it was unfair to assume he didn't care – that he was not fazed by the unprovoked attack attempt.
Inwardly, she was warmed, relieved and comforted by this fact. On the outside however, she was perfectly nonchalant. Perfectly Mina. "I am certain."
Tom's gentle green eyes turned fully on Mina as they drifted a little way behind the others. The vampire watched the space between them grow with silent contemplation, even as Tom said, "I won't let him take you. Trust me on that."
Though she did trust Tom Sawyer – quite possibly with her life and more – it was doubtful that he could successfully trick the ever-cunning Dorian Gray. The immortal had just – apparently – been around too long to fall for such trickery, and even attempting it could result in the unnecessary injury or death of someone Mina – or any of the others – held dear to her heart. Surely she couldn't allow such a rash attempt, just so Tom could save both Becky and Mina. She could take care of herself.
Her blue gaze met his, and she replied, "Sometimes the risk is too great, Agent Sawyer. These things must be considered carefully, and at great length. Far too little planning has gone into this, and I will not allow harm to come to anyone if it can be avoided by simply handing myself over along with the portrait."
The American by her side furrowed his brow in a perplexed manner, glancing briefly ahead to the portrait that Skinner carried in front of them. "You're not suggesting–"
"That I give myself over?" Mina eyed Tom carefully, studying the reluctance on his youthful, handsome features. "If it saves others… absolutely." Without giving him the chance to retaliate, she pushed forward, to catch up with the rest of the League.
It was true that she was loath to once again be in the clutches of Dorian, but the life of Becky Thatcher was at risk, and she would not allow herself to be the cause of harm to the young woman. It was a simply solved situation, and she would see to it that it was solved simply.
By any means possible.
As they came up on Melmoth House, Henry – who had never before seen the house of Dorian Gray – glanced to the others around him. He had been asked to relent from releasing Edward unless absolutely necessary. He was wary about entering the house of the immortal… should he drink the elixir?
"Yes, Henry… drink it. Let me out. You know you want to."
Unable to respond, Henry was forced to simply listen. His dark, pensive eyes gazed around at the gathered faces, even as the two new Americans withdrew twin pistols from their coats and holsters. Agent Finn reached around the back of his belt to take out guns similar to Sawyer's, and Agent Harper withdrew black pistols from his hips. He watched their readied actions, and cursed his inability to fight, other than using his vicious alter ego.
"Yes… I'm a vicious killer. But you need me, Henry… to fight your battles for you. You are too weak to do it yourself, and despite your good intentions and your values, you will continue to do so until the day we die."
"Shut up," he whispered to himself, glad no one – other than perhaps Mina Harker – heard him. They all ignored him if they had overheard, and glanced around to each other. Tom Sawyer and Mrs. Harker moved to the front of the procession, and Skinner stayed near to them, gripping the ornate frame – covered though it was – of the portrait of Dorian Gray. From the looks on everyone's faces, tensions were high, and senses were alert… it was atmospheric, and not in a pleasant way. Henry Jekyll did not like it. Not one bit, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
Inside of him, Edward Hyde chuckled dryly, and Henry sighed, resolved to simply stay close to the rear, the silent presence, prepared to unleash the inner demon if so need be.
Please don't be needed, please don't be needed, please don't be needed…
They reached for the door.
Tom grasped the iron handle to the door, and froze for a moment, looking meaningfully to Mina Harker, who nodded once, her hair taking on the slightest curl. He sighed, and opened the door, shocked to find it unlocked and ready for them to enter. He led the way in, with Mina right by his side as they stepped into the foyer of the old building near the waterfront of London docks. Skinner was right behind them, followed by Joe and Huck, and then Nemo and Jekyll brought up the rear.
As they stepped further into the house, Tom subconsciously cocked the lever on his rifle, eyes scouring the ground floor of the building. He knew from past experience that most of the house was based in the upper levels, but that didn't stop him from searching the area around him for danger. When it appeared safe – or as close to safe as the residence of a treacherous immortal could be – they moved towards the stairs. Those with guns went first, with Mina always close to Tom, as if for protection. He appreciated it, and knew she could handle herself – especially given her imperviousness to harm – but he hoped she would know when to duck out of harm's way should something happen. Joe and Huck aimed ever upwards as they ascended, eyes keen and senses on high alert.
Nothing loomed… at least, not yet.
They were approaching the library area, where the first meeting of the League – save for Dr. Jekyll – had taken place all that time ago, and Tom tensed at the prospect of what could be behind the doors. Mina reached forward, the American's hands occupied with the Winchester levelled at the ready, and she threw them open. They advanced, carefully, warily, and stepped into the light that illuminated the vast, tall room where the firefight had broken out with the Fantom's men. Tom's green eyes turned this way and that, breathing subtlely quickening at the prospect of combat, even as a voice sounded from behind one of the large bookcases that circled the room.
It was when they saw him in his entirety that everyone in the League – save for Joe and Huck, who had never before seen the immortal except for the portrait – froze, perplexed and stunned. Dorian smiled, free of facial hair, a kind of gentle chestnut brown altering the appearance of his still slightly curled hair, as it fell down to near his jaw. His face looked perhaps more youthful than before, and they could see his wicked, cunning smile for what it really was. Only his eyes had not changed, still cold and cruel, a dark brown that bore right through and into the soul. Mina faltered slightly, drawing in a stunned breath at his new appearance, and Tom furrowed his brow deeply, beyond confused, and trying to fathom the change. It was still Dorian Gray… they could still see his particulars, but he had changed, inexplicably so.
"I was beginning to lose hope that you would ever get here."
Dorian Gray. He stepped out with a dramatic motion from behind his concealment, and smiled that cocky grin in their direction, eyes landing on Mina and Tom at the head for a moment.
"How 'lovely' to see you all again… and alive too… quite a shock, for all involved, I'm sure." He chuckled quietly, and admired the ring on his hand for a moment, before his smile fell at once, and his penetrating gaze landed on Tom Sawyer and his aimed rifle… levelled right at the immortal's chest. "For the sake and benefit of everyone involved, boy… I would lower, and put the safety back on that weapon you so cherish." His dark, mysterious eyes bore right into the American, and Tom did not waver for a moment, until Dorian sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and the mutinous crew – along with a few unfamiliar faces – emerged from up on the higher levels.
Déjà vu…
Tom sighed, and pushed forward the cocked hammer on his favoured rifle, never taking his gaze from the slippery character of Gray, as though he was up to something, other than an exchange.
"Joe… Huck," Tom said quietly in gentle command, urging his friends to follow his lead. He heard the double snap of Huckleberry Finn heeding the plea, and the subsequent sound of metal on leather as they were slotted back in his belt holsters at the rear of his pants, perfectly and completely concealed behind the calf length black jacket he wore. Tom nodded without turning his head from Dorian.
C'mon, Joe… do it…
"Joe…"
"Tom…"
"Do it, Joe…"
Dorian arched a perfect brow in expectation, even as several of the guns held in the hands of the immortal's allies cocked and readied for shots, trained on the League.
"Joe… put your guns away, or I'll do it for you… you know I will. Now do it."
With a reluctant sigh, Joe did as he was commanded, and the guns were holstered once more, much to Tom's relief.
"Finally," Gray drawled, and took a slow step forward, hand finding the pommel of his cane, which had been propped against an armchair at the edge of the room. "And I have to say… I was surprised you actually came. No doubt you're concocting some hair-brained scheme in that American mind of yours." He chuckled again. "For the sake of the lovely Miss Thatcher – who I must add has been… 'delightful' company – I do hope you reconsider any attempts to trick or fool me. I want my property… and I will not hesitate to take it by any means necessary."
"I know you'd sooner kill us all than have to fight for it, Gray," Tom bit back, venom seeping into his voice, and he narrowed his eyes just a fraction. "But something tells me you wouldn't be doing the fighting anyway." He glanced momentarily around. "How much are you paying them anyway? It'd have to be a lot to get them to betray Nemo…"
Gray smiled victoriously.
Cocky bastard.
"Enough," was his eventual reply, and Tom could practically feel the rage seeping out from the Indian man towards the rear of the group gathered. "Now," Gray began again, "I'm sure you're about as reluctant to make this any longer than it needs to be as I am. Should we proceed?"
"Where's Becky?" Tom demanded viciously, glaring at the smug immortal.
"She is safe enough," Gray replied lazily. "When I have what I want, I will leave, and you can locate her easily enough. She is in this very building… you have my word."
"And we all know just how much your word means, don't we?" Skinner grumbled, cocking his head in a sly fashion, and glaring from behind dark pince-nez in the direction of Dorian. The two stared at each other for a moment… the betrayer, and the blamed, eye to eye, and sizing one another up, meaningful and even – in Skinner's case – possibly murderous.
Gray smiled. "Ah yes… I see you are still sore about my blaming you for betraying the League." He sighed, and tilted his head in a slight movement. "All is fair in love and war, Mr. Skinner… I expected a thief to know that, at least." He clucked his tongue reproachfully, mocking Skinner, who clenched the frame of the portrait tightly, calling the immortal's attention to it at once. "Ah… I see you have my painting."
"Yes I bloody well do," Skinner growled. "Though I'd love to see it burn in your fireplace… make quite a nice show, I think."
"I don't think you would do that, Mr. Skinner," Gray said quietly, almost threateningly, with a vicious light in his eyes. Tom furrowed his brow as he listened. "I think, for the sake of the girl in my possession, you will step forward and hand that painting to Mina. Right. Now."
Skinner hesitated, and then, with a thick air of reluctance, did just that. He offered it to the vampire, who took it carefully, her feminine hands clasping around the cloth covering the portrait, and taking it in her firm grasp as she glared coldly at Dorian.
Mina started to move forward, slowly and carefully, looking up to the 'snipers' on the banisters above, perhaps recalling the incident before, with the Fantom and Quatermain, where it had all so eventfully started. She looked back at Dorian, and Tom's heart raced faster at watching her walk away, into the arms of the devil… or something very similar, as frightening as that concept was.
Ever the gloater, Dorian continued to speak as Mina advanced on him, "I have to ask, do all Americans have such a rash fire as Miss Thatcher? She was quite adamant on causing me physical harm… silly girl."
Everyone stayed quiet.
"Even when I offered her… well… made her an offer, she still so viciously pushed me away. Quite hurtful and uncalled for really." He sighed with a lazy, bored shrug. "I mean, really… it was just a kiss after all."
That was when Joe let out a yell, and tore a gun out of its holster, letting off a shot at Dorian, slamming the immortal's shoulder back with a rapid force that threw the snipers into disarray and confusion.
Tom acted quickly, throwing a sharp glare at the rash Joe for a moment, before surging forward, and grabbing Mina's coat, roughly pulling her back towards the others, even as gunfire exploded from the snipers, tearing around them as they ducked behind some bookcases. "Joe, you idiot!"
Joe threw a scolding glare back, and pulled out his other gun. Tom glanced to the startled Mina, who – he realised – had dropped the painting.
Dorian was yelling for the snipers to be careful, even as he moved intently forward, and picked up the dropped portrait, holding it and glaring in their vague direction. Tom risked a glance around the bookcase, and saw the glint in Gray's eyes, before looking back to his fellows. "Skinner, find Becky. Joe, Huck, go with him. Nemo, Jekyll, see what you can do about the snipers. We'll try and get Gray."
Mina grabbed him by the arm, and looked him square in the eye. "If he gets the chance, he will kill you, Tom."
Frozen by her use of his name for a moment, he nodded. "I know. Let's make sure he doesn't get the chance then, huh?" He flashed her a grin, and cocked his Winchester. Rolling out from behind the bookcase, his duster around his ankles, he aimed quickly, and let off a shot, and then another, and another. One, two, three snipers fell, one toppling over the banister after a moment of unsteadiness, and thudded to the floor, lying still. Before Tom could pull off another shot, Mina tore him back, even as bullets slammed forcefully into where he had been standing. Hair in his slightly widened eyes, he glanced to Mina with a hurried, "Thanks." She nodded in acknowledgement, and Tom saw the shed leather coat and hat, the smeared greasy cloth and pince-nez that signalled Skinner's new invisibility. The others were gone as well, and Tom heard the frantic yell, and the clash of steel, as Nemo's presence was announced forcefully from above. Gunfire still sounded, but Tom recognised the resonance of regulation pistols for the Secret Service, and smiled.
Now they needed to find Gray.
Even as he thought this, he saw the glint off the pommel of Dorian's cane, as he retreated into an adjacent room to the library. Tom and Mina made pursuit, swift and with clothing billowing out behind them with their brisk movements. The noise around them was deafening and certainly reminiscent of the first group fight for the League. Tom was having flashes of memory as they moved, even as they entered the dark doorway where Dorian had been seen disappearing.
"Tom," Mina said, close to him, quietly, "the rifle is too big and cumbersome. The pistols might be more advantageous in close quarters." Nodding, knowing she would be aware of the movement, even in the darkness, Tom did as she said, propping the rifle outside the doorway, concealed, and drew out his twin pistols.
They moved slowly, carefully, and Tom wished for more light, unable to see much in the darkness. His heart was racing, and he prayed Dorian hadn't gone after Becky to teach them a lesson for their action where he had commanded obedience.
Please let her be okay…
Tom felt a hand brush against his arm, as he moved with the pistols readied but lowered, and couldn't decide whether it truly had been Mina who had touched him. He breathed quickly, even as he felt the contact again, firmer in its conviction this time, shortly before the hand gripped his arm, and turned him. He felt himself against the wall, even as lips pressed against his for a moment.
"I am sorry, Tom," came her swift apology, before something struck Tom in the face, knocking him down, but not out. Colours swam in his vision, and he struggled to rise in his dazed – and utterly confused – condition, wincing and giving a light groan.
"Mina?" he called quietly, and forced his eyes open, glancing around for any sign of movement in the darkness. "Mina?" he called, more urgently, and widened his eyes in realisation as to what she had just done. "Oh god… Mina!"