AN: Part two starts here. Fasten your seatbelts, 'cause you're in for a bumpy ride.

It was a bright March morning, at the point in time when the snow had ended for another year, but it was not considered spring yet. The New York City Marble Cemetery was all but deserted, apart from the six individuals who were walking across the grounds. Each Bohemian was holding a single rose. While everyone was rather somber this morning, Roger couldn't help but feel particularly uncomfortable about the situation. The last time he had been here, it hadn't exactly gone very well, and had ended with him running off to Santa Fe for an entire month. Now, he felt almost ashamed to come back here. Mimi, who was walking next to him, seemed to sense his unease, and gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and a supporting smile.

After what seemed like an eternity, they had arrived at a gravestone. Angel's gravestone. It had been less then five months since she had died, and that day still was hard for them to think about. Whoever had said that the first year was always the hardest was not kidding. One by one, they each stepped forward to say a silent prayer to their lost friend. When everyone was finished, they placed the roses they were holding at the base of Angel's grave. Collins was the last to go up, and no one was surprised when he took the longest.

As Collins finally rejoined his friends, Mimi happened to glance over to the other gravestones in the distance. A confused frown appeared on her face.

"E…Emily?" she whispered. Hearing this, the Bohemians all followed Mimi's gaze. A fair distance away from where they were all standing, there was a person kneeling in front of a gravestone, placing a white rose at the base. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking that frizzy mousy-brown hair partially concealed under the Yankees cap. As they watched, Emily got up, and, after lovingly patting the top of the gravestone, walked off alone. Mimi was the first to start heading over to the grave Emily had just visited, the others soon repeating her example. As soon as they had reached it, Mimi quickly read the words carved into the stone face, her eyes growing wide as she did so.

Zachary Goodhall

1961-1982

Loving Brother and Mentor

"Emily's brother!" Mark realized, remembering how their friend had mentioned him.

"Why didn't we realize?" Mimi asked, to no one in particular. "Why did it never occur to us that she referred to him in past tense? Why didn't she tell us that her brother was dead? I just figured that he didn't live in the city."

"1982," Collins read the date of death. "He was only twenty-one."

"How'd you think it happened?" Maureen wondered.

"Emily told us he was a cop," Joanne remembered. "I suppose it's possible he was killed on the job. Think about it; that would explain why Emily never spoke of it. Imagine that your brother went off to work one morning, with both of you expecting him to be home for dinner, like always. But on that night, he doesn't come home."

"Do you think," Maureen began after a long pause, "that she'd want a bit of company?"

"Yeah, maybe," Mark nodded. "You guys coming?"

"I'd like to," Joanne sighed. "But I have to be in court tomorrow, and I need to go over my files."

"And I have a test to prepare for Friday," Collins noted. "Not to mention how Mimi's dance class starts in an hour, so we were going to head to school together."

"You three go," Mimi concluded. "We'll catch up to you all later."

The bohemians then went their separate ways, with Mimi giving Roger a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying off after Collins

Maureen, Mark and Roger caught up to Emily about fifteen minutes later, just as she was entering an electronics shop.

"Oh!" Emily smiled upon seeing them. "It's you guys! How've you been?"

"Never mind us. How about you?" Maureen asked, going right for the throat of the subject.

"We saw you at Marble Cemetery a few minutes ago," Mark explained. The smile on Emily's face faded, and she began to fiddle with her locket.

"Oh. So, you know about Zack, then, huh?" she muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Why didn't you tell us he died?"

"I just didn't think it was the type of thing I was supposed to run through the streets shouting out about," Emily shrugged, a hint of a defensive tone in her voice. "Besides, he's dead, isn't he? There's nothing anyone can do about it, right?" "

I know, but...we understand how it feels to lose someone we care about."

"No offense, guys. But I don't feel much like talking about it right now, okay?"

"I understand," Mark nodded.

The smile instantly returned to Emily's face as she sensed the subject being dropped. Without another word, she walked up to the clerk at a counter.

"Ah, Miss Goodhall, back again, I see," the clerk greeted as she looked up. She was obviously a frequent customer here.

"Hi, Mr. Scott. Have my slides came in yet?"

"Yes, they have," Mr. Scott handed Emily a manila folder. "You managed to get some good ones this time, if you don't mind me saying so."

"You're a shameless flatter, Mr. Scott. Has anyone over told you that?" Emily scoffed, waving off the praise

"Say, that reminds me. Did you hear back from that photography school, yet?"

"Um," Emily winced in response. "Yeah. They tuned me down. Again."

"They didn't!" Mr. Scott looked genuinely shocked. "Don't tell me they weren't impressed by your work?"

"The portfolio's not the problem," Emily stated as she tucked the manila folder under her arm. "It's my lack of paid job experience. Volunteering full time at The Center just isn't enough to impress most people these days, sadly."

"Keep trying, Miss Goodhall," Mr. Scott called after Emily as she turned to walk off, with Mark, Maureen and Roger going with her. "You'll find someone who values integrity over money, I'm sure of it."

"So, what's in the folder?" Mark inquired as they left the shop together.

"Remember that I mentioned I was something of a nature photographer?" Emily asked. "These are some of my shots."

"OOOHH!" Maureen squealed. "Can we see?" Emily, after a moment's hesitation, removed a sheet of 35mm slides and handed them to her friends, seemingly reluctant.

"Hey, Mr. Scott's right, Emily!" Mark complemented as he scanned over the images encased in the slides, which included a tree branch containing buds that were just beginning to open, a ladybug resting upon a blade of grass, and a spider web coated with rain droplets . "These are great!"

"You can't tell me no one has tried to snatch you up!" Maureen agreed. "Unfortunately, they don't think I've had enough experience in the field," Emily sighed. "Working at the Center isn't enough to convince these people I can do the job. They want someone who has an actual salary."

"Hey, Rog, look at these!" Mark called, still engrossed in Emily's slides. "Rog?" The three looked back to see Roger standing in front of the television sets on display in the front window, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. When they walked over to join him, they saw he was watching a live news broadcast that was being shown on one of them.

"A police officer, who refused to disclose his name, stated that this latest killing is thought to be connected to the numerous disappearances that have plagued the city since the beginning of the year. In addition, it appears to be identical to the work of the once infamous Rat Fang Gang, who once terrorized the streets of Downtown Manhattan almost ten years ago. The question remains if this is the same group or a copycat gang. The identity of the victim, who was found in an ally near East Fourth Street and Second Avenue a short time ago, is not known at this time, but bystanders say they recognize the girl as someone who once worked at a local S&M club, known as The Cat Scratch Club…"

"No," Roger moaned in a barely audible whisper before turning and racing down the street, his friends close behind him.

AN: Once again, sorry for leaving you hanging. But cliffhangers are great ways to ensure that readers will come back for more. In an interesting bit of information, the end of this chapter, and it's continuation next chapter, was actually the first one I thought up. The rest of the story was built from it. Hope it was to your liking. More coming soon.