Omg, guess what's in this chapter?

PLOT! O.o

Chapter Four

For the next few days, James had made a point of avoiding Bowerstone Market for fear of running into Sparrow there again. He didn't know what business the gypsy had there nor did he know how long it would keep him in town. It hardly mattered though. His father didn't spend much time in the house anymore so James and his mother didn't have to worry over much about the volatile temper he had these days.

One morning James went downstairs to take tea with Laura at noon. He barely set foot on the floor before he froze, his eyes locked on his father's face. Edmund, on his part, raised his cup and took a sip, never taking his gaze off James.

"What are you doing here?" James finally spat out, trying to sound haughty rather than surprised.

"It's my house, James." Edmund replied darkly, lowering his cup to the table and crossing his arms across his chest. "I think I'm more than entitled to be here."

Laura came scampering over from the stove with the kettle freshly boiled. "I don't think that's what he meant, dear..." She said quietly in a meek attempt to mollify the growing tempers in the room. "Here, James, why don't you join us both for tea?"

James eyed the cup she was filling for him then let his gaze dart back to his father. He didn't want to appear weak in front of Edmund, nor did he want to stay and possibly cause more arguments. However, as usual, his pride won out over his common sense. He settled gingerly into the seat opposite his father and stared vaguely at the wall, refusing to meet the other man's gaze.

"Here you are." Laura said in a hopeful little voice, pushing the cup in front of James and taking a seat between the two men. James nodded at her curtly and lifted his cup, taking a small sip. "So!" Laura chirped, clasping her hands together on the table in front of her. "What... what are you planning to do with yourselves today?"

James shrugged casually, inspecting his nails. "I suppose I'll do the same as I do every day. Nothing." He shot a pointed glance at his father. "It's not like I can go out with my friends when I don't have the money to afford even lunch. I'd be a laughing stock." He said it all in a perfectly idle tone, but never the less Edmund still bristled, just as he'd known he would. "What about you father? What will you be doing today?"

Edmund huffed and picked up his tea again. "Nothing of interest to you, I assure you."

"Oh, on the contrary," James replied immediately, "I am very interested in what you are doing these days." He rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin up on his interlaced fingers. "Tell me father, where have you been disappearing off to these past few days?"

"James..." Laura pleaded quietly.

A little exasperated sigh escaped Edmund's lips and he tented a hand over his eyes. "James, what have I told you about your insolence James? It's not doing you any favours. I suggest you start behaving yourself before-"

"Before what?!" James snapped, kicking back his chair and standing up, slamming his hands down on the tabletop and making his palms sting. "Perhaps you are just trying to protect us from whatever trouble you've gotten yourself in, but how am I supposed to know that?" Edmund didn't say anything in reply. Instead he merely sat there staring at his son, so James barrelled on. "What do you think will happen if something happens to you? I'm sixteen now. Mother isn't the one who'll be expected to deal with this. Just look at her! She can barely prepare lunch without someone there to back her up-"

"Show your mother some respect!"

"I do!" James snarled. "I do show her respect, but you know as well as I do that what I say is true. She can't deal with whatever mess you're in, so I'm the one who'll have to. Can you blame me for wanting to know what is going on?"

Edmund slammed his hands down on the table, much the same way James had. He thrust himself up from his seat and stepped around the table, quicker than James would have given him credit for. Before James could react, Edmund's hand latched onto his throat and he was slammed into the wall hard enough to make him cough in pain and shock.

"That is quite enough, young man." His father said in a scarily calm voice. James coughed again and whimpered in a surprise and fear, but really, what more had he expected from a man who tortured and killed as a hobby? Vaguely he registered his mother's desperate pleas for Edmund to stop, but Edmund ignored her completely. "You are treading a very thin line."

James squirmed dragging his father's arm down enough so that he could talk. After gulping down some unrestricted air he hissed, "Well, I suppose I get that from you."

Edmund stared at him hard for a moment. Then he growled and drew back his hand-

Someone hammered on the front door, making the three of them jump and freeze. "Hamilton! Open this door immediately!"

James jerked in his father's grasp, startled. He recognised that voice. He'd only heard it once before, about a year ago, but he'd know it anywhere. "What's Gri-"

"Shh!" His father hissed, immediately, releasing James and hurrying over to the door. He grasped the door handle and turned back to look at them. "Neither of you say a word, do you understand?"

Laura nodded instantly and for once James was only silent for a moment before complying. Edmund hesitated then opened the door to greet none other than Cornelius Grim. The man who lived up to his name in appearance and personality stood on their doorstep flanked by two other shadow worshippers. Curious townsfolk watched on from safe distance away. Laura nervously crept over to where James was still standing by the wall and clung to his wrist fearfully.

"Hamilton." Grim said sharply. "You didn't come to the temple this week. We were expecting you."

"I've been busy." Edmund replied in an equally clipped tone. "Business. You know how it is, Grim." His gaze inadvertently flickered to his wife and son, drawing Grim's with it. "What are you doing here Grim? I wasn't... aware you knew where I lived."

Grim smiled. It wasn't a happy expression. "I know a lot of things you wouldn't like me to know, Hamilton." He said quietly. "Now, I believe that you and I have business of our own to attend to. I'd appreciate it if you'd come with me now to talk."

"Father." James piped up suddenly. "Don't..."

Edmund shot James a venomous warning glance. "Now, James, what have I told you about interrupting me when I'm talking to people?" He turned his back on James again and faced Grim. "Alright. Shall we go now?"

"Father." James said again, this time taking a step forward. "Don't go with him."

Grim smirked at James. "Children. They have no manners these days. How old is he, Hamilton?"

Edmund froze, staring at Grim for a moment. James could tell by the sudden stiffening of his shoulders that he wasn't pleased by this sudden turn of the conversation. "Sixteen." He finally replied through gritted teeth.

"Sixteen?" Grim repeated, turning to look at James again. "Not a child after all then." His grin twisted into something darker and James recoiled, barely biting back a whimper of fear. He'd thought his own father evil, but next to this man he was practically Albert the Luminous himself.

Grim finally looked away from James. "Let's go Edmund. Quickly now." On that note, he turned on his heel and walked off down the road, still flanked by his shadow worshipper cronies. Edmund hesitated long enough to glance back at his wife and son before following like an obedient dog.

Laura watched them go through the front window, her small frame shivering fearfully. "Oh James..." She said, once they had disappeared from sight. "What does that awful, awful man want with your father?"

James shook his head numbly and wrapped his arms around himself. He shivered at the memory of Grim's smile and settled himself down in a seat by at the table once again. "I don't know..." He whispered, closing his eyes. "I don't think I want to know any more." He rested his elbows on the table again and hid his face in his hands. "Mother... I have a bad feeling about all of this. The Temple of Shadows isn't exactly anything to be afraid of, but Cornelius Grim... he's... he's something else."

"What do you think will happen if your father doesn't sort out this mess he's gotten himself into?" Laura whispered, moving over to where James sat and placing her hands on his shoulders.

James shook his head. "I don't want to think about it."

They fell into silence for a while, James thinking and Laura worrying. Slowly an idea began to form in James's mind, though he was reluctant to give it much thought. It was ridiculous anyway. There was no way it he could help. But the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was the only option open to him.

"Mother." He murmured, lifting his head from his hands. "I'm going to Oakfield."

Laura frowned behind him and bit her lip. James didn't have to see her to know she was doing it. "Whatever for?" She asked, releasing his shoulders and settling down in one of the other seats.

James tented his hands in front of him, pressing his index fingers to his lips thoughtfully. "I believe there's a man there who might be able to help us." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "The abbot."

"From the Temple of Light?" Laura asked, her forehead creasing in confusion. "But... even if they can help, the temple won't do anything if you don't give them a donation and your father locked us out of the bank account."

"I'll work something out." James said, standing up. "It's not like there's anything else we can do if father won't even tell us what's going on. I'll set out for Oakfield this evening, before father gets home. Don't tell him what I'm doing, you know he'll only try and stop me anyway."

"Maybe he should try and stop you." Laura replied quietly. "James, it's dangerous in Rookridge. You'll never make it to Oakfield alive on your own."

James shook his head. "It'll be fine. I'll get a coach ride there." He smiled faintly on his way upstairs to begin packing. "Trust me."

---

That evening James left the house after saying goodbye to his mother. As he'd expected, she'd pleaded and cried at him not to go, having managed to convince herself he was going to die horribly on his way to Oakfield. Never-the-less he'd escaped and headed off towards Bowerstone Market to the coach house.

When he arrived at the market though, he could tell immediately that something was wrong. For starters, everything was quieter than usual. Even this late there was usually children playing in the streets and people yelling at the pub. Now, however, it was almost silent. And the few people he did see milling around looked distraught and unhappy. They were all wearing black.

Unnerved, James hurried across the bridge to the coach house. There was already a small group of travellers waiting there, two men and a woman. They looked up as he approached but he ignored them, instead heading straight to the office. The man sitting at the desk there looked up tiredly as he approached.

"Is there a stage coach to Oakfield tonight?" He asked, folding his hands on the countertop neatly. The man nodded at the group behind him who were standing next to the only coach present.

"The last one tonight. If you want to catch it with them, cough up the money quick. We're leaving in ten."

James nodded and handed over the money he'd managed to swindle out of his mother, albeit a little sullenly. He disliked travelling with strangers, especially in such confined spaces as coaches. The man took the money and stuck it in the till, then handed James his ticket. "A'right you lot, get in then." He called past James, standing up. "No point standing around out here for the next ten minutes after all."

The other three passengers quickly climbed in and James hurried after them, climbing up the steps and into the coach. The woman and one of the men had settled down beside each other on one of the seats so James took his place beside the other man opposite them. The woman smiled at him.

"Hello." She chirped brightly. "My name's Vanessa, and this is my husband," She gestured at the man beside her, "Frederick and his brother Thomas. What's your name?"

James forced a small smile. "James. Nice to meet you."

Sorry there was no Sparrow in this chapter... v.v But dun worry, because there will be lots of him in the next one. Like... LOTS. As in, constant Sparrow exposure for poor James. XD I can hear the tantrums already.

R&R if you feel like it. (But please do, because even though I'm gonna keep writing this fic anyway, regardless of reviews, I kinda have this wierd dislike of unbalanced numbers on my stats page... v.v)