Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! … As always -.- This one altered very much from the plan, but… what're you gonna do? When the muses call, you don't argue O.o
Vela Draven: Thanks very much. I'm afraid this chapter is lacking too, if you know what I mean.
Marcus Lazarus: Heh, a lot of very astute comments there. Thanks for the review.
Artemis Gray: Cliffies are fun. And what I do best. Thanks!
LotRseer3350: Glad you liked the update. Becky and Joe are kinda taking over in their own little arc. It's insane O.o
Scifirogue-klutz: I kinda guessed about Huck and Tom, but you're not the only person to have said that so… oops. D'oh. Oh well. I'll remember that for future! Thanks.
kingleby He tried indeed. He always does, bless him. Becky stands a chance… just maybe not with Tom, aheh.
Drakena: As I read your review, I only just remembered I did make Skinner smoke. Oops! Heh. And yes, awful habit, ugh. Heh, I hear 'Lock, Stock' is a very good film. I should see it really.
Xaviere Jade: Thanks. Gah, I'm afraid there's no such interlude in this chapter either. I did plan to put one in, but the muses took over, and I wasn't going to fight them when they've been so scarce of late, aheh o.O Thank you for the compliment at the end. Means a lot in its own way, heh.
Capt. Cow: Eeep. Frying pan. I might end up getting whacked then. Le sigh. The pains of being a writer XD
funyun Thanks very much. Hehe. Aren't love complications fun? And yeah, someone else pointed that out. Sorry. I never really picked up on it in the books so foolishly, I guessed. I do apologise for that. Thanks for the comments, as always!
Sethoz: Y'know, I'm trying to think why I should have called him Vincent, and I'm coming up blank. Damn, should've asked you before you went away, but hopefully you'll read this before you go and clear that up for me XD
And now, the new part of Ghosts of Old…
Tom and Huck strode side by side, still not quite understanding Skinner's discomfort, though they had a better idea now. They had heard his proclamation about The Serpent's tendency to murder those who got in his way, but they would play things as they came along; roll with the punches, as it were.
Huck looked to Tom, grateful for the lull in the rain, peering out from underneath the peak of his cap, saying, "Do you really think this guy is as bad as Skinner says he is?"
Tom shrugged under his jacket, hands deep in his pockets. "Well, Skinner's been known to exaggerate," he began carefully, his volume low, though the thief was muttering to himself anyway, and might not have noticed regardless. "But… I think he's serious about this guy, this 'Serpent'. You saw the way he reacted; I've never seen him like that before." He eyed his best friend cautiously, brow furrowed ever so slightly in a manner that Huck probably recognised from their days working together, in the past.
Huck sighed, and nodded, brown eyes turning away to regard the back of Skinner as the thief led the way. He seemed deeply troubled. Tom looked to Skinner as well, and actually worried about his state of mind. This news had made Tom see Skinner in a new light that he wasn't certain he liked at all. The thief was unsure of himself all of a sudden. His entire posture was submissive; shoulders hunched and head low to his chest, muttering and discontent. Tom pulled a face.
They would need Skinner at his best. After all, he was the one who knew about this Serpent, and how he behaved. He knew his ways, and his reputation. Without Skinner, Tom and Huck were flying blind.
"Well… if you're right," Huck began tentatively, "then I'm guessin' this guy is bad, to make Skinner this nervous." He looked a little wary – or more so, to be truthful – now, and shifted his frame in a way that told Tom he was reassuring himself with the weight of his pistols at his belt. They were at either side of Huck's hips, in leather holsters; a pair of Colts similar to Tom's own. He had seen the movement before, and knew it well.
They carried on this way, trapped in silence and concern, for many more minutes, with Skinner leading them down winding alleys and every now and then, he turned his head over his shoulder to check they were still behind him. It was very odd to see him acting so nervously, and in turn, this unsettled Tom. But he steeled his resolve, motioned with his head to Huck, and they picked up their pace to match Skinner's. The thief said nothing, only looked them both in the eye, and then froze.
When Tom and Huck turned their heads, they realised he had stopped, staring at a door. It was unmarked; no number, with a plain brass handle and knocker. Glancing around, Tom saw they were out of the way, down a labyrinth of alleyways and streets, and he was… to put it bluntly, well and truly lost. If Skinner happened to abandon them any time soon, Tom knew he wouldn't be able to find his way out of the catacombs of London without help, and neither would Huck.
"This is it," Skinner muttered, somewhat shakily. He glanced hesitantly at the two Americans at his side, as if asking them silently whether or not they wanted to turn back. When neither agent spoke or confirmed this, Skinner moaned lightly, and strode to the door. Lifting one gloved hand, he slowly took hold of the knocker, pulling it back. Suddenly, he turned his head, and asked, "Are you sure about this?"
"Skinner," Tom began gently, almost pleadingly, pulling his hat from his head, "we need to find Mina. And to do that, we need to find Gray. If this Serpent is the only one who knows about that…"
Skinner sighed heavily, and nodded. "Yeah, yeah… you're right." His shoulders slumping slightly, he let the knocker fall against the door three times in rapid succession. He stepped back from the door a little way after that, even as a small shutter opened in the wood, and a pair of eyes peered through. They narrowed, and Tom cocked his head slightly to one side. Skinner nodded to the gazing eyes, and the shutter closed again, becoming lost in the smooth surface of the door, undetectable. Tom glanced to Huck, puzzled; finding his fellow American looked very much the same as he did.
The door opened after a moment, wherein many locks were taken aside, and the figure who had stared out at them turned out to be a young man in a simple shirt and pants suit, minus the jacket and tie. His shoes were a little scuffed, and considering the neighbourhood, he looked quite presentable. He had piercing brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, and hair to match. He nodded his head to the side, indicating that they enter, and Skinner led the way. The young man watched them intensely as they stepped inside, and closed the door behind the two agents, locking it much in the manner he had reversed a few moments before, and silently offering to take their hats. Huck and Tom handed theirs over, but Skinner's never left the safety of his head. The man remained in place, pointing down the corridor, looking Skinner squarely in the face. Tom understood what it all meant; the man recognised Skinner.
Skinner had been here before. That was why he was so frightened. He didn't just know of The Serpent… he had dealt with him in the past.
And something must have happened to scare him like this.
Tom was immediately on his guard.
They travelled slowly and quietly down the corridor, mostly in darkness. There were few lamps to illuminate their journey, and this made Tom's proverbial hackles lift a little more. He didn't like the situation. It was becoming more and more disheartening by the second.
But you don't have a choice, Sawyer, and you know it. This is the only way you're going to find Mina… you know that too.
Sighing, he watched Skinner tap lightly with his knuckles on a closed door. From under the crack at the bottom, a shaft of light could be seen, and music could be heard playing; soft classical from the sound of it. It did nothing to console the taller American, and he glanced to his shorter friend, seeing the concentration in Huck's features. His hands were poised to grab for a gun if need be, but Tom sincerely hoped he held out until they were certain of any danger.
Skinner waited ten seconds, before he carefully turned the knob, opening the door, and stepping inside. He gazed around, and Tom literally saw him swallow nervously. Tom and Huck were close behind him, the former bringing up the rear just in case someone was behind them. He gazed cautiously over his shoulder, searching for danger, and then looked ahead once more, stepping over the threshold and into the room.
The decorations were minimalist at best in nature, but spoke of extravagance in their simplicity. Wherever he was getting his 'possessions', he knew where to go, and how to deal.
Not two seconds after he'd cleared the open door, it slammed closed behind him, and a hand wrapped tightly around his chest, pulling him back. He felt himself collide with another form; a body behind him, and cursed his distraction. There was the slight, familiar ring of metal, and he felt the cool blade near his throat. Gazing at the alarmed Skinner and mildly panicked Huck, he moved to fight the hold around his chest, when the thief burst into vocal protest, lifting his hands up, palms out.
"Sawyer! Don't move, whatever you do! Do. Not. Move!" Skinner's eyes were wide. That much was obvious from the lifting of his brows. He breathed heavily, and Huck had drawn a pistol from his place by Skinner's right. The thief looked from one spy to another, and then said shakily to Tom, "Just… stay still, all right? Don't do anything. Just… stand there."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered uncomfortably, feeling the knife shift against his neck slightly, and he tilted his head back a little, looking to Huck in a manner that he hoped commanded he not prove to be a threat. The pistol was steady and unwavering, and Huck looked intense in his firm gaze. He was looking just to the right of Tom's head, obviously to the knife-wielder, whom Tom assumed to be none other than The Serpent himself.
"Why, Skinner," the voice drawled from behind him, carrying a husky edge, "didn't expect to be seein' you again any time soon." The knife pressed against Tom's throat a little harder, and the American closed his eyes, but remembered Skinner's words. He refused to budge. The hand around his throat grasped a little tighter as well, and Tom had to admit – to himself at least – that there was undeniable strength in that grip. The man was large, and he was powerful… and fast. Not to mention stealthy and cunning… and with a certain paranoia to boot.
Skinner nodded his head, lowering his hands slightly, and glancing to the trapped American for a moment. "'Ello again," he greeted unsteadily, before he cleared his throat and commanded his voice to obey. "Long time no see."
Serpent chuckled down Tom's ear, shifting his grip a little, but not enough to present an opening for escape, saying, "You're not wrong." Tom could feel eyes staring at him as if in study. "And who're your 'friends', hmm?"
Before Skinner could respond, he continued quickly, "I always thought you'd never 'ave any, personally, Skinner… nor did I ever really want newcomers and strangers in my house… you know that. I'm a very private person."
The knife traced along Tom's throat dangerously for a few moments, so close and pressured that the spy tensed, almost certain the blade had nicked his flesh, if only slightly. He gritted his teeth, and heard the cocking of a pistol's hammer.
Serpent laughed dryly, harshly, his breath disturbing the hair at the side of Tom's head. "I wouldn't advise that, shorty," he teased, using a name Tom knew would drive Huck up the wall if used continuously. "You ever seen someone have their throat slit?" Tutting mockingly, he persisted, "Awful messy. Take my word for it."
Huck hesitated then, and Serpent seemed to be glaring harshly. Finally, with a sigh and an almost apologetic glance towards Tom, Huck pushed forward the hammer, and put the gun down onto the floor before his feet. He looked back at the knife-wielding man, and said, "Better?"
"Much," Serpent rasped. He moved the knife then, and Tom felt it shifting, and for a few moments, felt relieved, and even thought he was being released, but looking to Skinner proved otherwise.
Skinner had sucked in a sudden breath and was holding it, and suddenly said, "Wait! Come on; you know me! I wouldn't come if I didn't need your help!"
Tom froze instinctively, like an animal caught in a sudden bright light head-on, and then felt it. The tip of the blade was at the side of his neck, no longer over the throat. But he knew that it could kill where it was right now. He didn't know how long the dagger was, but he had no doubt The Serpent would drive it all the way to the hilt if so provoked or inclined.
"I bet you were wonderin' why they called me 'Serpent', 'eh?" the man chuckled down Tom's ear, turning the blade slightly. Tom clenched his jaw slightly, stubbornly, and refused to talk. "I don't think 'e likes me, Skinner, this friend o' yours."
"You have a knife to his neck–"
"Shut up, Finn!" Skinner hissed, and looked back to the threat. "Please… come on. I just want to talk with you, that's all. See if we can strike a deal, 'eh? You know I wouldn't do anythin' dodgy."
Serpent sighed lazily, his breath playing over Tom's bare neck. His arm still hadn't loosened from around Tom's chest either. The two Americans regarded one another at length, even as the man spoke again, "What did you come to talk about then? I 'aven't got all day. You know that. I'm a busy man."
Skinner nodded quickly, his heart racing madly in his chest. He knew this would happen… he knew it. He'd seen it before; that knife positioning. It was fatal, and he remembered seeing it executed as if it were yesterday. The man had died not five seconds after the plunge, and… Skinner remembered the blood, if nothing else. 'The Serpent's bite', someone had once called it, rather crudely, but accurately.
Sawyer was obediently still in Serpent's arms, staring at Finn, and the other agent was returning the gaze. After a few moments, the blonde American looked to Skinner as the thief started to speak, "There's a character around we need to get hold of, and fast. He's… taken somethin' of ours, and we'd like to get it back. We were told you might know where he is."
"Who told you that?" Serpent asked darkly, eyes boring into Skinner fiercely. The scar down the side of his face made his gaze even more intense, unnecessarily so. Serpent was a dangerous man, and anyone with half a brain in London knew that. His reputation really did precede him, all over the city. Everyone had heard of him in some form or another. Some mothers even used the master thief in bedtime stories, or to warn children.
'If you don't go to sleep, The Serpent will slither in here…' Skinner shuddered slightly, replying, "The Hammersmith Circle."
"Hah… bunch of half-wits," Serpent scoffed, and tightened his arm around Sawyer's chest. The younger man winced a little; Serpent was stronger than he looked, and from appearance alone, he was still no weakling. Skinner had never been out of Serpent's favour long enough to find out just how strong he was, but he'd seen results, and knew not to question. "Who's this bloke you're after?"
"Dorian Gray," Skinner replied slowly, hoping and praying that the informant and thief had heard the name before.
Serpent snorted quietly. "That stuck-up prat?" Eyes narrowing, he inquired further, "What're you after him for, Skinner? Not plannin' anythin' stupid, are you?" He gazed to Sawyer for a moment as he said that, a brief, cunning smirk washing over his face.
"No… not really. Like I said, he's got somethin' of ours, and we need it back."
"Well… I could help you, Skinner." Serpent feigned sympathy; a look Skinner knew well. "You know I'd like to, but I'd have to 'ave somethin' in return. What is it exactly that you're plannin' to take back?" With a grin, he added, "Hopefully, for blondie's sake, it's somethin' you can share."
Sawyer nearly struggled then, Skinner noticed, and his intake made the spy rethink it. "We can't do that…" he replied reluctantly. "It's not somethin' you can split down the middle, exactly."
"Then we don't have anythin' to talk about, do we, Skinner?" Serpent reminded him sharply with a wicked edge to his voice. The keen eyes narrowed somewhat dangerously. "So you know what happens now."
Skinner swallowed dryly, and simply stared, unable to look away. He prayed to whoever was listening that Serpent wasn't bored… boredom was a terrible thing with this man. He'd killed in boredom before, simply for the mild carnage that ensued. He looked at Serpent almost pleadingly, but not desperate.
Serpent toyed with the knife at the side of Sawyer's neck, and then pulled it away, before flipping it around to grip the blade expertly, and Skinner winced and turned his head away as he hit the American with it in such a manner that the agent gave an abrupt cry and slumped forward, out of the thief's arms as he released the body.
Finn let out a gasp, and leapt forward, catching Sawyer in his arms, and almost dropping to the floor with the sudden weight, glaring at Serpent, who shrugged.
"Count yourself lucky, shorty… I could very easily have torn out his jugular instead." Quirking a brow nonchalantly, he moved to stride from the room, and Skinner was actually grateful that Finn was too weighed down with Sawyer to go after him. The shorter spy actually growled in anger as the door to the side of the room opened and closed around The Serpent's retreating frame, but Skinner started forward, coming to his side.
"Trust me, it ain't worth goin' after him," he said quickly, and looked down at Sawyer, who was unconscious, without a doubt. Serpent had struck him at the base of the neck, at just the right point and with a perfect amount of pressure to knock him out and down.
"But you saw what he did!"
"Sawyer's lucky, Finn," Skinner retorted, taking hold of Finn's shoulder and keeping attention firmly on him. "Let 'im go. We'll have to find our information somewhere else."
"No." Finn shook his young head from side to side stubbornly, brown hair tumbling around his temples. "Take Tom; I'll get something out of the bastard."
Before Skinner could stop him, Finn had handed Sawyer's body off into his arms instead, and grabbed his gun from the floor, jogging off after Serpent. He threw the door open, and disappeared through it.
"Finn! You bloody idiot, get back here!" Skinner yelled after him, looking down at his prone friend and frowning with a groan. "Oh for… perfect, just perfect!"