A/N: Hello! Feel free to drop me a line, and thanks again to those who review! You're all the best! Thanksamillion –Scratch
The black sun and the key. These were things young Lane Carter didn't want to appear together. In fact, it had never crossed her mind that these two things would have to exist in the same place. They were opposites, and thinking of that Lane realized that was exactly why the Black Sun had chosen the key. It wasn't really a warning, as it seemed. No, it was much more than that. There was really nothing that could be done once they decided on whom to kill. It was simply to strike fear into the victim, to make them run. It was a game to the Black Sun members. A game of tag, and you never got the chance to be 'it.' And honestly, Lane couldn't think of a time that someone had out run the Black Sun, they were everywhere, but now, they were back.
All these thoughts ran through Lane's mind as she stood frozen in the doorway to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodge House. Her piercing green eyes never left Spot Conlon's chest. Her breath came fast and she leaned heavily against the wall, shaking her head in disbelief. Spot glanced up at the noise and his eyes became hard diamonds, reluctant, but hard none the less. With a glance to Racetrack and a dismissing wave, Spot stood, slowly coming closer to her. Race looked anxiously at the two but shook his head, muttered something under his breath and pushed past Lane, outside. Spot opened his mouth to talk but Lane cut him off.
"Where's your key then?" She asked quietly, keeping it hidden in her fist. Spot looked down to his chest reflexively before pursing his lips and quickly looking back up, his face a blank mask except for his eyes which were still dark blue and guarded.
"I dropped it somewhere." He said quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shrugging before opening his mouth again, Lane cut him off once more, shaking her head and taking a step towards him.
"No, it was pulled off in a fight." It wasn't a question, but she tried hard to keep her voice from wavering. She recognized the little rope burn on the side of his neck, right under his collar, where the little black string must have been pulled taut trying to stay in one piece. Spot's coarse fingers reached up and grazed the mark lightly. He nodded once, his eyes hard.
She opened her fist and let the little key unfurl from her palm, finally hanging from her thumb. Spot's eyebrows furrowed as he instinctively reached for it.
"Where'd you get that?" He asked accusingly as Lane snatched it away from his outstretched hand.
"No, please don't, Spot." She said a little too loudly. She spared a look towards the empty doorframe, unsure if Racetrack was just around the corner. Spot followed her gaze and shook his head once, grabbing her elbow and pulling her into the little room behind the desk, he slammed the door and dust circled the small space, mixing in the sunlight that shone from the one window, casting beams on Spot's rigid features. He crossed his arms and looked at her with a tilt of his head, his jaw moving with his frustration.
"What's going on here Lane?" He asked with a wave of his hand. "You're never this jumpy." He muttered taking a step slowly towards her, a mix of frustration and something resembling care in his eyes. Lane dropped her eyes and took a step sideways.
"Spot, you've got to let me past. There's so much more at stake here than you realize." She told him, shaking her head, and trying to keep her voice even.
"Just give me my key, Lane. I don't care what you do after that." He muttered anger rising into his voice as she once again denied him his necklace, clutching it to her chest. He threw his hands up and spun around once then moved towards her and tilted his head quizzically.
"You just found me my key, why won't you give it up?" He asked, gauging her reaction and wondering if this was connected to the fire at all. Lane looked out the window at the high sun. There was no telling how much time they had before The Black Sun knew they had found the key. Her breath came in sharp bursts and she looked around franticly, raking a hand through her messy curls, pulling it from its ties. She felt like the 7 year old girl who had seen the Black Sun kill the one she loved most. She ducked her head as hot tears brimmed over her eyes. She hadn't cried in years, and Spot knew that.
Spot's eyes grew wide before they transformed again into hard little slits. Her grabbed her shoulders and backed her into the corner, away from the window. He looked over his shoulder at the closed door, before turning to her and lowering his face to her level. His voice was low and soft.
"Lane, Lane, listen to me. Whatever you're afraid of, it won't hurt you." He said holding her face and forcing her to look at him through her blurry vision.
"I'll protect you okay? You have to tell me what it is you're afraid of though." He whispered reassuringly. Lane sniveled and wiped her eyes fiercely, setting her jaw against his strong hands.
"Spot, it's not my life I'm afraid for, it's yours. Now you've...you've got to let me go." She muttered clutching the key more tightly. Spot took a half of a step back, surprise written on his face.
"My life? If I move, you'll tell me what's going on?" He asked, blindsided by the fact that his life might be at stake. Lane nodded and he dropped his hands from her shoulders. The second his grip loosened Lane was running at full speed through the little room, out the door, and out the back into the little alley way. Spot chased her out and just as she was reaching up to put the key back in its place, he grabbed her from behind, the force knocking them both into the brick wall. Lane pushed uselessly against the wall, angry she wasn't faster.
She wasn't afraid at all at Spot's controlling nature. She knew he would run after her, she just thought she could beat him. He'd never hurt her though, besides his tight grip on her waist.
"Damn it Lane, you said you'd tell me, now talk!" He yelled, not loosening his grip on her. Lane didn't speak but simply reached up and pointed to the drawing above her head. Spot stopped struggling with her and shifted onto his back foot, gazing up at the menacing little drawing. Though he didn't know what it meant, Lane felt his body stiffen, it scared him too, and he wasn't used to fear. He loosened his grip a little and Lane turned in his arms to face him, trying to keep her composer and failing as more little tears ran down her pale cheeks.
"Spot, you have to trust me." She started hitting her palm lightly on his shoulder, capturing his attention. "I know I haven't always been there in the past, but you have to trust me this time. I'm the only one who might be able to keep you safe. I'm the only one who's been here before." She said tears streaming down her cheeks, the image of her father flashing before her eyes. Spot jaw tightened but he let Lane from his grasp slowly, his eyes a glassy mask. She turned and reached up carefully, replacing the key in the brick, just like she found it.
She sighed and wiped her eyes, someone would know it was moved, but replacing it might give them a bit of a head start. She turned towards Spot, who spoke quietly but urgently.
"Lane, tell me what's going on, don't leave me in the dark." He insisted taking her hand and shaking it gently before sparing another glance at the little symbol above their heads. She nodded and moved towards the doorway, pulling him with her.
"We shouldn't talk outside." She explained, looking around suspiciously, for Racetrack or anyone else. They hurriedly moved into the same forgotten room as earlier and Lane closed the door behind them, watching Spot pace. His hands were behind his back, his footsteps measured and precise.
"What is that Lane? You seem to know what it all means." He said under his breath, waving his arm in frustration. Lane sighed and instinctively moved away from the window. Leaning on the wall next to it. Her tears had slowed but now she looked at the ground numbly.
"They're called The Black Sun. Or Sole Nero in the native Italian. They are a collection of gangs. A secret organization really." She said off-handedly. Then with a bitter laugh, "No one knows who they are and no one ever will. They kill those they think are threats." Lane looked slowly up to Spot, who had stopped pacing and was looking at her like she had gone mad.
"Then why the hell do they have my key?" He yelled throwing his hands up in anger. His shout, seemed to spur Lane. She pushed off the wall and shook her head, twirling the end of a long curl of hair around her finger tip.
"You must have done something to make them mad. But we don't have time to waste. I'm not going to lie to you Spot." She took one of his hands and looked into his distant blue eyes.
"I'm not going to lie. I've never seen anyone escape them. They only leave the unimportant." She muttered, as he tore his hand from her grasp and turned away.
"So what do we do?!" He asked impatiently, taking up his pacing once more. Lane moved to stop him, but quickly gave up.
"There are really only two options. You either stay, and let them come kill you and everyone near to you. Or you run and fight." She breathed, deflating under her own words; she knew what option Spot would pick. He turned quickly and kicked the remnants of a chair half way across the room, breaking the quiet.
"Dammit Lane, there has to be another way! How do I even know you know what you're talking about?!" He yelled in a bout of frustration. Lane shook her head, silently pleading with him. He sighed and closed his eyes tight, clutching the air with his fists.
"I've made a life for myself here, Lane! You don't expect me to leave do you? I'm King Lane! I have everything I want, I have power! I strike fear into everyone with a single glare! How can I give that up?!" He yelled practically begging her to see what he meant his eyes more desperate then she'd ever seen them. She moved towards him quickly, grabbing his wrists.
"Spot! I'd rather you be alive. All that's worth nothing if you're dead!" She yelled right back, her eyes grave. He dropped his eyes then gazed out the window at the skyline.
"There's no way to stay and live." He said simply, it wasn't a question, but his eyes were lost. Lane dropped his wrists and wrung her hands together; her face was, however, determined.
"No one escapes their grasp Spot. No one. My father didn't make it and he was strongest and toughest man I've ever met. I was lucky they found the seven year old girl I was unimportant. I escaped with scars, but I see now, I'll never escape. They'll keep hurting the ones I love." She said lowering her eyes, seeing pictures from years ago. Spot looked at her quizzically. He was finding out more about her today than he had in their six or so years of friendship. He was about to speak but he heard her mutter,
"I'm only lucky Kloppman made it out alive." She said, wiping one stray tear before realizing Spot had heard. Her voice grew hard.
"And the only reason he did is because he's full blood Italian." She hissed, turning away and wiping another tear. Spot stared at her back, his eyebrows knitted. He'd always wondered about the strange relationship between the elderly lodge house keeper and this fierce girl. Spot lowered his head, looking once more out the window at the bright sunlit day. He sighed and turned Lane around, pulling the shorter girl into his arms. For once, she knew so much more about a situation than Spot did. And he'd have to trust her.
"What do we do? You're in charge." He whispered, his voice icy and slightly sad, finally admitting his mortality to the one person who had a chance to save it.