Chapter Eighteen: Staffs and Swords
"Doc."
Jekyll stirred fretfully in his sleep.
"Doc."
Curse that voice. First Hyde, now this.
"Doc."
Why couldn't he just be left alone?
"Oi, DOC!"
Jekyll jumped awake, startled out of his fitful doze. He'd fallen asleep at his desk. Skinner was standing next to him. Well, a floating leather trench coat and black fedora were, anyway. "What?" he asked. His heart sank. "N-not another one?"
The fedora bobbed up and down, as if its wearer were nodding.
Jekyll groaned. "Alright, I'm coming." He rubbed his neck, wincing as a kink made itself felt. This was the third murder they'd come across since Dorou had been killed, and to the best of his knowledge, all the victims had died the same way- by some strange force that burst every blood vessel in their bodies. "Where are the others?"
"Tommy and Fish-boy went to his office," Skinner said. "Dunno where Nemo is, but Mina went out to hunt. Just you 'n me this time, Doc."
He nodded. "I'll bring some elixir, then," he said grudgingly. He only prayed that he wouldn't have to use it. Hyde was becoming unmanageable as it was. Letting him out would only compound the problem.
Fetching his medical kit and tucking a vial of the transformative formula into a pocket, Jekyll followed Skinner to the place where he'd found the latest victim. This time, the place was an abandoned warehouse not far from the mansion, one that Skinner mentioned Sawyer had told him to take a look at. Old crates, covered in half an inch of dust, lay scattered around. Tracks- made by several pairs of feet, led to a cleared space in the center.
Jekyll knelt carefully next to the body. It was a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, upper end of the lower class as best as he could tell. She had died like the others, blood oozing from various orifices. Jekyll clenched his teeth as his stomach tried to rebel at the sight. Steeling himself, he took hold of her left wrist and turned her arm over. There, cut into the skin of her inner forearm, was the crested serpent.
Why are they doing this? he wondered as the woman's blood soaked into the knees of his black trousers. Why are they taunting us like this? What's the point? We're no closer to finding them now than we were before Dorou was killed. Why are they killing these people?
"You were right, Skinner," he said aloud. "It was the cult."
No reply came from the invisible man.
Jekyll looked up. "Skinner?
"It wasn't them," Skinner said finally. "It is them."
Jekyll's terrified gaze flicked around the warehouse as several people rose from hiding places behind the crates. He counted six at least, all armed- some with daggers, others with odd-looking staffs with split, bulbous tips. The leader, a cold-faced blond man who wore a pendant in the shape of the crested serpent around his neck, alone bore no obvious weapon. However, he wore some sort of odd combination of gauntlet and bracelet on his right hand. It had a glowing red stone set into the palm.
The leader sneered. "Are you the best the League sends at us?" he said mockingly, his voice deep and echoing with resonance. "The thief and the doctor. How amusing."
Amusing? Hyde growled. I'll show them amusing. Let me out, Henry!
"Gladly," Jekyll muttered, earning him a start of surprise mixed with sadistic glee from his alter ego. He did not want to find out what those weapons could do to him. And perhaps letting Hyde out for a while would make it easier to resist him later. Slowly, he reached for the vial of elixir in his pocket.
The leader laughed coldly. "Nice try," he said. His hand snapped up, palm outward. The stone set into the palm of the gauntlet he wore glowed an even brighter red.
An invisible force slammed into Jekyll's chest, flinging him and Skinner backwards into a pile of crates. The physician gasped for breath as the air was knocked out of his lungs. But that wasn't the only thing he'd lost.
The vial of elixir had flown out of his hand to smash on the warehouse floor.
You IDIOT! Hyde bellowed at him. Jekyll wanted to clamp his hands over his ears to block out the enraged torrent of mental abuse that followed, but to no avail. He couldn't block out something in his own mind, after all.
A stream of Cockney curses to his left denoted Skinner's position, half-buried among some broken crates.
"Tha's not fair!" the thief spluttered as he thrashed around, trying to free himself from the wreckage.
"Of course it's not," the leader replied haughtily. "Nebthet and Kheti don't reward fair play." He raised his hand again, sending another blast of invisible force at the crates that teetered precariously over Skinner. They collapsed, burying the thief beneath them.
Jekyll shook his head to clear it, trying to scramble to his feet. A broken crate pinned his leg, hampering his escape. The leader- A Goa'uld, it has to be a Goa'uld- was on him inside of a second.
"Oh no, Doctor," the man said softly, mockingly. "We can't have you running off to warn your friends, can we?" He raised his bejeweled hand again, holding it a few inches away from Jekyll's face as the terrified League member shrank back. The gem began to glow brightly again, this time with a more ominous light. "Say goodbye to the world, Doctor Jekyll."
A mind-boggling noise- like the cry of an angry falcon, ripped through the air. The Goa'uld whirled, distracted by the sudden noise. A figure bearing a sword struck at two of the other cultists, catching one in the neck and the other with a backhanded slash that tore his chest open. The newcomer stabbed each in the belly as they collapsed to the warehouse floor.
The leader shouted something in a language Jekyll didn't know. It almost sounded like 'Kree!', but he couldn't be sure. It certainly galvanized the other four cultists into action. The two with staffs raised them, aiming the bulb-shaped ends at the new fighter like artillery. With a noise like a high-pitched whomp, the staffs spat out bright pulses of light.
The fighter with the sword dove out of the way, landing in a roll that brought them back to their feet. They made a sharp gesture, one of the staff-weapons jumping out of its owner's hands in response. Between the newcomer's quick movements, the dim light, and the streaks left on his vision by the staff-blasts, Jekyll could hardly make out whether their rescuer was male or female, much less who it was. He was pretty certain it wasn't one of the League members- the only two who used swords were Nemo and Mina, and neither of them could make objects move just by waving.
The head cultist raised his hand, and a blast of invisible force knocked the sword-fighter off their feet. But then the newcomer scrambled back to her- yes, as his vision cleared Jekyll was becoming fairly certain that the warrior was female, there was something about the way she moved- feet. She lunged to the side, catching one of the dagger-wielding cultists by surprise and running him through the belly smoothly. Her victim gasped, choking, as she freed her sword and dodged away from a new staff-blast. She wasn't quite as lucky this time- it grazed her side. She stumbled, hissing with pain.
Jekyll shoved at the crate pinning his leg, Hyde goading him to take advantage of the distraction the swordswoman was making. Where was Skinner? Was he still under the pile? Jekyll couldn't see any sign of the thief.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a heavy board pick itself off the floor and whack one of the cultists- the staff-wielder who'd lost his weapon- in the head. The man's eyes rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed. Skinner was evidently all right then, and free.
"Skinner!" Jekyll hissed. "Help me!"
The board dropped and Jekyll heard the sound of running feet, accompanied by little puffs of dust that came up to him. "On three, push," a familiar Cockney voice said. "One, two, three!"
Jekyll shoved again at the crate as Skinner pulled. The bulky container lifted up a few inches under the combined effort of the two men and he pulled his leg free. Skinner let the crate drop as soon as Jekyll was out of the way.
"'Oo is that, anyway?" Skinner asked, ducking behind the crate to hide.
The doctor squinted through the dim light. "I'm not sure," he admitted. There were only two figures left- the swordswoman and the head cultist. They had somehow managed to circle each other, so the newcomer was directly in front of Jekyll's and Skinner's pile of crates, the cultist opposite her. She had her back to the pair of League members, so they couldn't see her face.
The two combatants spoke sharply, both speaking in Goa'uld. Nebthet's follower looked wary, as if he were uncertain what to make of this woman who had decimated his underlings. Without warning, he drew a dagger and lunged.
She dodged to one side at the last second, flicking her sword at him as he went past. The blade caught the cultist in the back of the neck, just below his skull. He collapsed instantly, eyes wide and staring in death.
The woman wiped her sword clean on the cultist's jacket and slid it into a sheath on her back. Her face turned towards the stack of crates Skinner and Jekyll were hiding behind.
"Henry, Skinner, you can come out of there now," she said, her gray-green eyes glittering.