Takes place between chapters 3 and 4 of Relative Comfort

Bread. A bit of meat. Cheese. Various scraps. Several potatoes. With seventy kids in the courtyard, they had enough for…two and a half meals. Good. What about medical supplies?

Bandages. A thermometer. Various medicines that would not go bad. Small quantities of a few that would. Was that tincture still useable?

Yes, but the salve beside it was not. A moment added that to his list. Now for the books.

Their primer. An easy reader. Several Beth had rescued from the dump. Their newest book returned to its place at the top of the cubby—better to avoid the wet. Did he know of anything specific they should start hunting?

The Good Book, probably. Beth had mentioned one of the littles asking about it the other day. He could—

"HIDE!"

Tim jumped, then lunged out of the supply corner, list fluttering to the ground as he searched for the problem. Bill never screamed like that.

"Hide!" The boy burst into the courtyard. Pure fear joined his frantic pace to completely ignore Marcos' question. "Hidehidehidehide—"

Diving into the closest hole halted the stream, but silence reigned for a long moment. The rest of the Haven survivors glanced at each other. Marcos shrugged at Arthur's wondering glance. Vicky gained her feet to check on the boy. The others started drifting together, repeated glances toward the alley announcing their unease. They did not know what could have scared Bill.

Something had, however, and seeing him so deeply in panic obviously worried them. Tim quickly followed Arthur toward the forming huddle. While everyone had taken Carla's absence in stride, moments of uncertainty still sent them into a protective group. They would feel more secure with someone older between them and the entrance.

"It's Mallory!"

Especially if the source of Bill's panic had followed him home. Another pair of feet rushed for the archway, then Gracie barreled through, wide eyes only emphasizing the terror in her voice.

"Mallory's hunting! Hide!"

Like Bill, she sprinted straight for the tunnels, but her warning sent a ripple of fear through the huddle.

"Mallory?!"

"The Mallory?!"

"Client!"

"Everybody hide!"

"Into a cubby!"

"Run!"

"Intruder!"

George's alert cut through the chaos to accomplish what Bill and Gracie had not. Within seconds, all but nine of Tim's oldest had vanished into the tunnels, and he took the center of the loose defensive ring. Setting his feet prepared for an adult to charge into their home.

Except silence reigned both in and out of the courtyard. Had they lost Mallory in the alleys?

No. Quietly running footsteps finally confirmed an adult incoming, but unlike most Intruders, this one did not growl or yell, and he slowed to a silent walk as soon as he spotted the archway. Tim had heard far too many stories over the last couple of months to miss the glaring implication—or the meaning behind Gracie's warning.

If Fernsby and his goons had called young ones "prey," then Mallory now hunted Tim's kids. Unacceptable. Tim's kids were not prey. Irregulars were not prey, and if this adult had decided to see them as such, he had forfeited his chance to leave freely.

"Alpha Protocol Hold! Baker! Two!"

A muted clatter sent the fastest runners for help, and two more boys joined the ring, just as ready as Tim. Every one of his kids had voiced some version of Tim's wish that they had run that Alpha alone. Fernsby and his clients deserved far more than they had received.

With Mallory, at least, they could fix that.

"Wait." Though not yet. One hand halted Arthur's lunge as Mallory reached the archway. "Has to be inside, remember?"

Arthur's frown clearly announced what he thought of that, but he did relax. Slightly. The ring edged closer to where the adult tried to enter without notice, and Tim's gesture confirmed he and Arthur would attack first. Twelve silent boys waited for the adult to break through.

Careful movements set debris on the ground rather than shoving it out of the way. A box nudged slightly to one side. The larger pallet leaned against a nearby wall. Something fell only for Mallory to catch it inches above the ground. A rotten bit of food produced muted disgust. Over a minute passed as he gradually widened the hole, then a tall, lean man slinked through the gap.

Though no further. Feet barely touched cobblestones before two boys slammed into him with everything they had.

"What experiment are you planning now?"

Silence answered me. He continued digging through his bag, slowly marking items off his list despite the cab's jolting clatter.

"Holmes?"

Huffed irritation nearly blew his paper to the street, but my dubious tone finally prompted a grumbling reply. "Lestrade asked me to identify a chemical," he said shortly. "It is an acid, but it smells similar to ammonia and reacts like a catalyst."

A strange set of characteristics, but the description did nothing for my wariness. Holmes had taken a break from perusing missing persons reports to play with his chemistry set. Of his seven experiments last night, six had ended with disruptive failure—four of those of the exploding variety. I rather hoped for an hour or two of quiet before the next round.

Not that I could do anything to facilitate that outcome. Another moment finally returned my gaze to the passing streets, and I pretended to watch the crowds though most of my attention remained on him. A stoppered vial rested next to his leg. I reflexively steadied the new beaker he shoved into my hand. He held the smallest dropper in his teeth, and yet he still dug. Several seconds' search evidently found one thing missing.

Though he had no chance to call to our driver. Sprinting footsteps abruptly detoured, then Lily pushed through the crowd on the further sidewalk, fear turning to relief with every step.

"Elrich! Wait!"

The cabbie jerked at his name, but he easily recognized her. A tip of his hat joined a tug on the reins to let her catch up.

"What kin—"

"Alpha Intruder!" Fear interrupted Elrich's greeting as a running leap neatly landed on our footrest, one hand already out for the aid she knew we would offer. "A client followed Bill and Gracie home," she blurted. "Tim called two extra attackers out before I left because he was comin' silently."

Silently. Like a predator on the hunt. Urgency tightened my chest. Even without the chaos of letting the Irregulars reach one of Fernsby's clients unsupervised, several from Carla's group had mentioned the clients that had enjoyed "games" closer to a tiger's prowl than anything truly pleasant. With each hunter second only to Fernsby in imaginative cruelty, every one of those children was in danger. We needed to help.

As Elrich knew. He made a quick left on the next street then prodded the horse into a gallop. A firm tug wedged Lily between me and the wall, and I braced my elbow against the wood to ensure I did not land on her.

"Bill and Gracie reached the courtyard unharmed?"

She nodded. "I think so, but they ran full speed into the closest cubby, screaming about how Mallory was hunting. There's no way we'll be able to check for a while."

They would not emerge from their cubby until after Mallory had been captured, at least, though possibly later tonight, and a distracted thought wondered if this would set back their recovery. My last visit had found every child adapting well to "living free," as they called it. Most left the courtyard occasionally. Everyone took part in the many classes and games safely hidden behind brick walls. Even Owen spoke full sentences—most of the time. I hoped such a scare did not combine with Carla's absence to make them return to huddling in the far corner.

I could do nothing about it now, however. For the moment, Holmes and I could only hold on as Elrich rounded corners as fast as he dared, worry probably plaguing him just as badly as it did me. So many years in Holmes' network meant he had worked with many of the Irregulars. Surely the courtyard could not be much further?

No. A sharp turn finally revealed that familiar alley. Holmes jumped clear almost before we stopped moving, and a handful of coins in Lily's palm let me follow. Elrich would tell her how much we owed. I would be of more use in the courtyard.

The grunts and impacts of a scuffle echoed off hard bricks, all carrying from that hidden home to announce the Alpha Protocol ongoing. A cry of pain. The roar of an angered lunge. Several words George would probably regret teaching the littles. The intruder clearly still fought—though whether to escape or cause pain I did not yet know—and I heard far more than the normal dozen or so boys that normally met an unwelcome guest. A reflexive grip confirmed my bag in my hand. So many out of hiding usually suggested a problem.

Though not always. Nearly twenty of Tim's oldest tag-teamed a rather battered-looking man. Rotating fighters to prevent anyone from tiring too much, they fully blocked the ruffian in the alcove furthest from both the archway and the emergency exit. Two children sat against a wall, alert but obviously injured enough they had waved a replacement. Three others, at least, still fought despite the pain of minor injuries. Probably more than three. Holmes and I had known since the raid that Tim had wanted to do far more than simply rescue the children and capture the adults. Run alone, that Alpha would have delivered many injuries to any client they caught, but the Yard's presence had prevented such physical justice. Mallory's attack had given them the opportunity.

As evidenced by their target. Even my limping run did not miss two black eyes, a bloodied nose, a possible wrenched shoulder, a probable broken wrist, bruises on every visible patch of skin, and the crooked smile that said some of the blood on his face came from missing teeth. The blackguard appeared to be enjoying the fight—perhaps believing he might eventually win—but the righteous anger on every Irregular's face loudly declared their intention. They did not contain Mallory. They enacted the only form of revenge they could.

And our arrival would finish their plan. Arthur spotted us first.

"Baker!"

The group tensed, then shifted. Normally, the acknowledgement opened their formation to let Holmes and I negate the threat. This time, however, their formation closed. Harassment became a full attack, and Mallory abruptly disappeared beneath over a dozen smaller bodies, each kicking and punching as fast as they could. Only when Mallory stopped fighting—and Holmes and I reached their corner—did they finally step back.

Leaving Mallory crumpled on the ground. Three mouthfuls of saliva splatted his face.

"Serves you right."

"Now who's the 'prey'?"

"We should let the others have a turn at you before the Yard gets here."

"Sidney."

"What?" The boy managed a scowl for Holmes despite his swelling lip. "It's not like 'e doe'n't deserve it. Scum o' the earth, 'e is, just like everyone else in that—that pit." Last minute effort changed his word choice, though only Holmes' proximity prevented him from kicking Mallory again. "Sean 'as told me all about Mallory, here. Do 'im some good to give as good as he got for so many years."

The experience would "do" him something, certainly, though I doubted it would be the "good" Sid anticipated. Holmes' frown said he agreed with me.

"No gentleman kicks a downed man," he returned mildly. "Or inflicts any other harm." A change of position used his body to block the sharp movement that cuffed the blackguard. He carried less sympathy than the Irregulars did, though he would never admit as much. "You rendered him harmless. That is enough."

"Not fer scum, it's not."

I barely heard the mutter, and Holmes either missed it or chose not to react. Whatever the case, he busied himself securing Mallory to a nearby column as I turned my attention to injuries.

"Doctor!"

Like the boy leaning heavily against the far wall. Tim bent over the Irregulars' second, holding Jones still as he checked for anything broken. My own burst of worry drained when pain dazed eyes tracked my approach.

"Be…alright 'n a min'," he murmured.

"He threw you pretty hard," Tim returned without looking up from his exam. "What hurts?"

"'Most ev'rything, at th' mom'nt." A flinch could not halt the smirk evidently referencing the fight. "Got 'im good, though. Worth 't."

"Not if you're hurt!"

"Tim." He startled minutely, too absorbed in his fear to realize I had reached them, but the next moment quickly shifted to let me kneel on his right.

"Mallory threw him into the wall," he informed me, attention remaining on Jones' slow movements. "Right before you entered. I heard him hit, but I couldn't see how he landed."

"On m' shoulder. Mostly." Another grimace stopped an attempt to sit up. "'M fine, Doctor. Promise. Jus'—just bruises. Stunned me. Couldn't tuck 'n roll fast enough."

Amusement escaped Tim in a faint huff—he had been trying to teach the others how to fall for weeks, now—but the tension raising his shoulders finally relaxed. I took only a moment to confirm no signs of a concussion before gaining my feet. He would be able to stand in a minute, and with Holmes focused on checking Arthur's knee, I turned to George.

Who immediately stopped working his shoulder. "I'm fine, Doctor. Check Nicholas. He waved a replacement first."

A glance found the boy calmly leaning against his patch of wall, two fingers gently inspecting his foot. I looked back at George.

"Holmes or I will get to him in a moment." The mild rebuke sparked a faint grin. He should know better than to try to brush off an examination. "What did you do?"

"He caught my wrist and pulled me backwards," he finally admitted. "I think it's just protesting, not injured."

Entirely likely. I certainly saw nothing wrong, and several seconds found no bruises or localized tenderness anywhere along the joint. I finally released his elbow.

"I want to examine it again if it doesn't stop hurting."

That hinted grin tried to widen, and his eyes flicked to where Holmes knelt. My friend had already turned by the time I looked.

"Yes, Doctor."

Pounding footsteps prevented me from answering the mischief hidden in those words. Two pairs of feet raced down the alley, and every child jumped to full alert.

"Behind!"

"Hold!" Frank's voice echoed off the brick, announcing him and the Yarder well before they reached the arch. "Just me," he added when he found the fight over. "Everyone alright?"

"Think so." Tim glanced at George, then at where Holmes had moved to kneel in front of Nicholas before focusing on the Yarder. "Sergeant Douglas, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I am glad to find you unhurt." He pulled out his journal as a searching gaze checked the Irregulars and noted both Holmes and me. "Frank said the man is Mallory?"

Tim nodded. "One of Fernsby's clients. I'm not sure how he escaped the raids, but they all recognized him. He followed Bill and Gracie home then spent the entire fight trying to find the others."

"I suppose that is how he acquired so many injuries?"

"Of course." Tim brushed the question away, the picture of innocence though Holmes and I, at least, knew what they had planned as soon as Mallory found the courtyard. "Couldn't let him reach the littles, and a bunch of kids against an adult means he's gonna end up hurt. Just like several of us. He certainly wasn't holding back."

"Doctor?"

Beth's voice prevented me from catching Douglas' response. I quickly turned to find her only a few feet behind me, one wrist cradled in the other hand.

"Landed on it wrong," she explained before I could ask. "I can't decide if I sprained it or broke it."

My bag thumped the ground to let me take her wrist in my palm. "You do not often join the fighters."

"Tim called for another," she shrugged, eyes on the gentle contact searching for injury, "and I was next up." Nonchalance faded beneath a slightly vindictive grin. "Just means Mallory gets to tell the other inmates that a girl cost him two teeth. He stopped enjoying the fight so much after that."

As I would have expected. Even the more brutish ruffians tried to keep all their teeth, but I made no reply. A short exam found only a slightly sprained wrist, and Douglas disappeared through the archway, Mallory in tow, as I wrapped a bandage to serve as a brace. Tim waited until even their footsteps stopped echoing before sounding the "all clear."

A sigh of relief breathed through the cubby holes, then children streamed out of hiding. Returning to games, lessons, and conversations, the noise level quickly returned to a level much louder—and closer to normal—than the complete silence of seventy hiding kids.

Closer to normal did not mean normal, however. The lines flowing from the many holes ended, but I had not yet seen any of Carla's group. Would we need to coax them out?

No. Wary eyes finally peeked around the large pot's makeshift wall, and only when Vicky saw for herself that Douglas and Mallory had gone did she and Marcos lead the last dozen children from hiding.

"You got him good!"

Benny almost immediately bounded up to Beth, a large smile in place of the embrace one of the others might have initiated.

"Knocked his teeth out just like he did to Tony! Good hit!"

Amusement escaped in a light laugh. "Thank you, Benny. Are you all alright?"

He nodded rapidly. "Think so. Bill and Gracie even came out, though I think they're gonna stay with Eli and Marcos for a bit. Gracie thought sure that Mallory would get her again. That's why she sent Bill ahead. B'cause he could run faster."

And because he was younger, I added silently. I knew enough to recognize the protective mentality all of Carla's group emulated. Just as Carla had made herself a target in that manor, so Gracie had risked herself to give Bill a chance to hide. A distracted thought wished for a way to address that.

Anything I might say would only sound lecturing, however. Beth's smile thanked me for the bandage, but she focused on Benny's chatter as I started winding through the crowd. Not everyone would seek me out for treatment. Had Mallory's intrusion injured anyone else?

Several older boys returned to a lesson on footprints and tracking. Beth and Lily opened Arthur's map for a group of littles. George and Arthur dragged George's forge between the lesson area and the entrance—making at least three young ones willing to put their backs to the archway. Jones gingerly gained his feet to retrieve a pile of fabric discarded in one corner. Tim started inventorying their supplies.

In less than ten minutes, every child had returned to the daily tasks they had evidently abandoned at the Intruder alert. They would be fine with time, and Holmes had just conveyed a silent suggestion to leave when a sprinting approach announced another visitor.

"Tim!"

Arthur jumped, metal clattering to the cobblestones as he spun to face the door.

"George! Jenny! Max! Ada! I found parents!"

"What?!"

The initial jolt of fear vanished beneath recognition. Lessons dissolved once again beneath a stampede for the door, but Carla's excitement nearly collided with Arthur's exit.

"Parents?" he repeated. "Plural?"

"Parents." Her wide grin noted Holmes and me before a rapid roll call confirmed "her" kids present. "Jenny, Max, Ada, Gracie, and Kitty, there are—"

"Five?" Tim hurried from his inventory to interrupt her question. "You found five mums and fathers?"

"Uh huh."

Said with a rapid nod and the biggest smile I had ever seen, she refocused on the young ones nearly mobbing her, but I caught Holmes' eye.

Gleaming excitement confirmed him just as pleased as me. I would not deal with a malodorous or explosive experiment for a while yet. We would be staying to help with the Omegas.

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