Chapter 18:
Prisoners and Powwows
Twilight…
Swan led him to a stretch of the mines near Maleficent's old lair beneath the library, explaining, "With the rise in crime, we realized that the two cells in the sheriff office wasn't going to work, so we had the dwarves work on this."
"I know," he grunted, dryly adding, "Conroy was a bit miffed that you didn't ask him, the town's locksmith, to be involved in the project."
"How did he – ?"
"Tawny is the Concerned Citizen. She has eyes and ears everywhere," he chuckled, unashamed of the pride that leaked through or the pleasure he took at her disgruntlement.
When they arrived at the cells, which were remarkably similar to the one he had locked Swan up in in the Forest, there were three dwarves standing guard and Freddie-lad. Mercifully, the cantankerous one was not there. He did not have the patience for his lip today.
Scanning the cells, he identified several lowlifes that he had suspected did odd jobs for the crime bosses and corrupt former nobles of the town. He also saw that the two toughs he and the lass had fought off of the chief fairy a few weeks ago were in there as well. But none of these men had the intelligence or couth to work directly with men like Gisbourne or George or who would understand how this 'magical masking' was possible. It was the three men he had listed earlier that would have the most valuable information. But it would be unwise of him to rule out any source information however unlikely, so…
"I'm here seeking information as to the whereabouts of Driver, Agustino, King George, and any of their other criminal associates."
"Those who answer his questions truthfully will get a good word from me to the D.A. as being cooperative, which will likely reduce your sentence," Swan helpfully incentivized.
Several of the thugs and Foxworthy were disdainful and disinterested in the offer. Chaplin pursed his lips and shook his head in a no-deal gesture, while Dante looked mildly intrigued. It took all of his self-control not to tear the smirk off the twisted buzzard's face. Killian just knew that the doctor was viewing this as a game.
The henchman, who had called the shots in the attack on the fairy, however, treated it like a bargain, saying, "I have a wife and kids. I don't want to be sent away and forget our life from Before."
"You should have thought of that before you got involved in this, mate," Killian challenged.
The big man took no offence at his lack of sympathy, just chuckled mirthlessly, "Times were tight. I gambled, lost, and this was offered as a solution to my problems. It was risky but easy. I obviously should have known not to trust my luck."
"Well, your luck isn't completely rotten. The current mayor is prepared to bend the rules and extend resources to those who prove helpful," Swan declared.
At this the man, another heavy, Foxworthy, and Dante, all indicated that they were interested in this deal. Swan had them removed from the cells, one-by-one, and taken to a more secluded area out of hearing distance from the others.
The goons were obliging and informed them without much prodding of several possible hideout locations – the cannery, the gym, George's old house, Octavia Bay/Ursula's empty townhouse, the arcade, and the movie theater.
When Swan stated that they had already searched those places, Bosco the Unlucky shrugged and said, "And once 'cleared' by you they probably moved right back in like roaches."
Swan was none too happy about that observation.
Foxworthy was another kettle of fish entirely. His sole purpose for 'coming forward' was to yank their chain. He contradicted everything the other two men said, pointing them to the forest, and pestered Killian about his sudden blatant interest in hunting the crime bosses, going so far as to threaten Tawny.
"You know, boyo, once Stromboli learns that you are wearing a white hat now, he's going to go after that pretty little maid friend of yours – probably hand her over to Gisbourne to be his new medium for pain," he goaded, and to Killian's annoyance earned a reaction.
Something in his expression or body language tipped the bastard off to the truth, because he grinned with malicious delight as he crowed, "Oh, that's too precious! You've already lost her, and that's why you are looking for my bosses. Just wait a few days and they'll give her back – in pieces but she'll be yours again. Perhaps, Dr. Frankenstein can patch her up for you, and she can be your undead monster lass."
Swan had to haul him off the vile flea bitten cur. If she hadn't been there, he might have taken an eye or lengthened the split of his forked tongue for him. As it was, he had quite a few bruises and scratches, some that perhaps required stitching.
Once he had cooled down, they brought out Chaplin and used his reactions to gauge the veracity of the fox's remarks. The mute refused to communicate in any format, terrified that Driver would learn of his snitching, but he couldn't stop himself from listening and responding. So between that and Swan's superpower, they were able to narrow the locations down to George's old house, the townhouse, and the movie theater.
Killian found this frustrating because he had had Jefferson watching that area of town all day, and he had seen nothing. Both Foxworthy and Chaplin refused to tell how that was possible.
As soon as they had Dante before them, he folded his hands in front of him and coolly asserted, "Except for the foul cretin who has had such treatment a long time coming, you have shown remarkable restraint, considering the circumstances."
Killian was in no mood to be flattered, toyed with, or mind-fucked, which this cadaverous-looking man seemed to be prepared to do all three. What the madhouse doctor had forgotten was that Captain Hook was a Master of the Game. He had survived Pan and Cora, and so he used that 'remarkable restraint' of his and only growled (a wee bit), when he inquired, "The 'circumstances'?"
"Yes, you Captain are exhibiting far more distress than the sheriff here, which means you are more motivated and pressed for time. And since very little motivates a man of your caliber except for your more primal passions, I assume a loved one is in danger and needs rescuing from my associates or has been harmed by them and you are seeking vengeance…"
"Ah, I see it is the former." The vulture paused in his astute analysis to gloat in his success, and then resumed to declare, "To wit, I presume it is that protégé of yours. You should have guided her away from her meddling ways, Captain."
"And how do you figure?" He was actually so tickled at the idea of Tawny ever letting him have that kind of influence that his question came out more sneer than snarl.
D'Arque misinterpreted this, of course, as he did not understand the crusading lass at all, and prattled, "How do I figure what? You'll need to be more specific in your questions. How do I figure that she is the loved one in danger? By simple deduction, Swan is here and not as distressed as you. The only loved one that you have, that she does not, is the maid. How is it that she is the mastermind behind the vigilantism? That took far more effort of my considerable mental capacities, but it soon became obvious because she is the only one in your social circle that was here when it began that we do not know her true name."
At last, we are finally getting somewhere.
"And the significance of that is?"
D'Arque lifted his cuffed hands in supplication, "That is up to you. I want more than just the preservation of my memories."
"Immunity is not an option." Swan was swift to assert.
Killian wanted to scream at her that 'Nothing was not an option when it came to getting his Tawny-lass back', but the smarmy wretch smirked and shook his head, distracting him.
"Is this a game to you?" he snarled.
"No, Captain, but that is a fine idea. I think the name of it shall be Let's Make a Deal," he drawled smugly, tauntingly.
"Name your terms," Killian commanded impatiently.
"I will tell you all that I know, if I am allowed to publish my discoveries."
"Freedom of speech does not end when incarcerated. You can communicate with the outside world. It will be carefully monitored of course," Swan informed him.
"Do not be too hasty, Ms. Swan," the vile man chided. "The second part of this arrangement is that you and your merry band of protagonists agree to keep silent as to how I acquired subjects for my studies. I've worked too long and done too much to have the knowledge gained be discounted by my more morally squeamish colleagues."
That was it? That was all that this little dance had been about? What did he care of professional ethics?
"Done," he agreed before Swan could squash this bargaining chip. The two of them looked to the sheriff for her answer, and she, mercifully, shrugged and agreed with little prevarication, "I will not speak of it, and I will ensure that those on the council will not either."
"Well then, where would you like to begin?"
~0~
Movie theater, late evening…
Her next visitor was Driver. How he managed to squeeze his corpulent ass down that narrow spiral staircase, she'll never know. However he did it, he was undeniably standing in her makeshift cell, eyeing her with distaste. His fat lips arranged into a sneer.
"Stromboli's auction of you will begin at midnight, which is in a little over two hours from now."
When he said nothing more, she asked quizzically, "Okay…And you are telling me this because…?"
His sneer turned into a predatory grin, "Because I believe anticipation is half the fun."
"Ah," she stated in dawning comprehension. "So I am to stew here in misery, dreading the approaching hour and imagining all the depraved atrocities you lot have in store for me? No doubt, my mental images will be helped along by your own perverted descriptions?"
"Mhmm, something like that," he mumbled as he inhaled deeply, acting as if he was getting off on her false bravado. His eyes eventually opened again, as he corrected her with, "Simmer, not stew, and this circus of Stromboli's is really the preliminaries for what I have in mind for you."
At her baffled expression, he continued, "For you see, Stromboli's goal is to recoup his monetary losses, and if he gets to put on a show that's the icing on top. I, however, have not only lost money due to your actions, but I have lost men and respect. It is not enough for me that you suffer. I want to make you suffer at my hand. However, in order for you to make me any money, I cannot enter into the auction."
"That's quite the quandary," she dryly and unsympathetically noted.
"Yes, it is," he agreed gleefully gearing up for his punch line. "But my esteemed colleague has found a way out for me. He has promised that after the auction, you will be given to me…" He bent down to leer into her ear, "And what I have planned for you is far worse than what any of them will do."
She snorted, "From what I hear, Gisbourne and George's BDSM expert are not to be discounted."
"Oh, I have no doubt they will cause you considerable pain and get all the information we want from you, but the way to make you truly suffer is not personal physical pain – oh no, I suspect, for one such as you, it would be to watch others, those you love writhe in agony as you sit there powerless to stop it."
Somehow, she managed not to lose her cool at his words. Perhaps, it was because her insides were slowly turning into ice, even as her pulse quickened and fists clenched behind her back. "I take it you have someone specific in mind?"
"Two someone's, in fact," he paused for dramatic flair, smacking his sausage lips at the 'anticipation', before leaning down once more to whisper, "'Auntie Wen's' toddler niece and that whimsical young lady friend of yours. Personally, I'm very much intrigued to see how long and what it will take to make her as mad as her doting dotty father."
It took her a moment to register what he was saying, and even then she could not entirely compute what he said. Xandy? Grace? He wouldn't…
When she did process it, she finally did lose her cool. She gave him the satisfaction of a reaction and tried to launch herself at him, shouting, "But they are children!"
"I know, hence the words 'toddler' and 'young'," he smugly retorted, as he rocked back on his heels to avoid her lunge which was halted by her chair. "And such sweet, high-pitched screams they'll make."
He inhaled deeply again, reveling in her horror, before he sauntered back to whatever pit of hell he had oozed out from, leaving her to her panic-ridden thoughts.
'Got to get out. Got to get away. Got to get out… Must get out. Must get away…But how?'
~0~
Granny's, late evening…
"Let me get this straight," Charming requested tiredly, "We haven't been able to find these guys by magic, wolf-nose, or good ol' gumshoe work because they are 'masked' by these hide-me amulets that Ursula and Maleficent made for the price of having a brute squad at their disposal?"
"Aye," Killian confirmed, equally frustrated. "Jefferson cannot even see them through his telescope."
He had called the man as soon as they had left the makeshift prison, to let him know what was going on. Tawny's usually solitary friend had immediately volunteered to meet up with them as soon as they had a plan in place, seeing as his customary form of assistance was rendered pointless. The planning committee consisted of himself, Swan, her father, Baelfire, his father, Lady Belle, Regina, the wolf-girl, and Ginger, who he had called for her expertise. Fitz was still working on tracking the computer, and Snow, who had recently announced her expectant state and was thus unable to fight, had taken Henry home.
At the mention of the Wonderland Recluse, Baelfire's mug stopped halfway to his mouth as he inquired in disbelief, "He's involved in your spy ring too?"
"Focus, Mr. Cassidy," Regina rebuked, before he could respond with a duly cutting remark, and then she explained with exaggerated and condescending patience, "And yes, David, the wearers of the amulets are rendered 'forgettable', which practically makes them 'unperceivable' to anyone not wearing one."
Ignoring her tone, the prince continued his quest for understanding, "And Dante's theory is that they do not work on Gwen – Tawny – because no one knows her full true name?"
"Aye, mate," he confirmed again, not admitting that at least one person, himself, knew of it. "Nor mine, which is why we were able to interrupt deals and such when you officials were not."
Swan, of course, latched on to his admission, sounding wounded and betrayed. "Your true name is not Killian Jones?"
He lifted an eyebrow, retorting, "Do you not have a second given name as well as a first and family name, lass?" Not waiting for a response, he turned to her father and added, "The witches also placed aversion enchantments on specific locales, which is why you cannot find the fugitives."
At this point, Ginger piped up, musing aloud, "Well that explains a whole lot."
When she didn't elaborate, he prompted testily, "What exactly are you referring to?"
"Well when we were busting out the mermaid from the asylum, neither Fitz nor I wanted to leave the elevator for the sublevels. Gwen had to push us through the doors and even afterwards it wasn't until we left the drain that the hinky vibes went away. But she didn't feel a thing."
"It would also explain why even though De Vil told us where she hid George's stash we can't find it," Swan added exasperatedly.
Dante had told them that the amulets and enchantments could be used against each other and not just the 'white knights', citing the mini-saga between the tyrant and the fashionista.
Apparently, George wanted to be king again in the Forest, so he teamed up with the witches to make it happen. While they prepared the spell, he stocked up on supplies to make success possible (seeds, iron ore, tools, swords, etc.). De Vil, however, sensing she, the lone female, was a weak link in the Spencer-D'Enfer-Agustino & Co. partnership that may be discarded, stole his largest stockpile of goods and hid it on her property somewhere as leverage, which was what prompted the Pongo-Wolf fiasco. Dante also informed them that the ambitious grudge-holding bastard was hiding on DeVil's now vacant property and looking for his stash, which no one can find as D'Enfer took her amulet with her when she left.
"So, Regina, do you know of any counter-charm for these spells?" Swan asked hopefully – well, as much hope as Emma the Skeptical could muster.
Regina shook her head regretfully, "Not one that will work fast enough to be of any use to Ms. McKinley."
As one, everyone turned to glance at the former Dark One, who had been strangely silent during this exchange. Killian wondered if the Crocodile was reveling in his former nemesis' misery, because his less than helpful reply was a simple, "Nor I, dearies."
"So how do we find her?" Ruby implored despairingly.
Into the silence, Charming declared, "We don't."
"We bloody well w- !" he protested.
"We don't find her. We find them." He cut in, stating confidently, "They only have so many places with these enchantments, and so they'll have her at one of those places. We go after them, all of them, at the same time so that they can't play musical hideouts, and we'll get her, when we get them."
"Uh, aside from the potential hostage situation that will make, there is the problem of not being able to see our amulet-wearing opponents or even having the will power to enter these places, if I'm understanding this right," Baelfire, the nay-sayer, pointed out.
"I don't know anything about avoiding a hostage situation, but didn't some of our current prisoners have these amulets in their possession?" Belle asked.
Swan nodded, "Yeah, a few had them in their pockets. I guess, they need to be worn about the neck to work properly."
"In that case, Regina, could you recreate them for the raiders to wear? I mean, these people need to see one another to do business, so…"
"So they must be able to see each other." The Crocodile finished for her, gazing down at his woman with sickening pride. Killian shifted his gaze to the sorceress, who nodded and confidently asserted with offended disdain, "Please, of course, I can."
But of course the woman couldn't stop there. Oh no, she had to add with pompous sneering snobbery, "But I want it on record that I am not doing this for the sake of Hook's girlfriend. I'm doing it because I want these vermin off my streets."
"Oh, don't act so noble, Your Majesty," he snapped. "You also want to clear your debt with me for Neverland."
Regina drew herself up and hissed, "As I recall it, pirate, you owed me for helping out the Torture Twins."
At this, Charming interjected with a placating but strained, "Thank you, Regina. We'd appreciate whatever assistance you can give us." To placate him, he shot that irritatingly optimistic smile of his, saying, "Cheer up, mate. We'll get your lass back."
Killian was not in doubt that they would. Swan and her family had the Power of Love on their side, and had yet to fail at what they set out to do. It was he, who repeatedly fell short. He couldn't save Milah. He couldn't avenge her. He had lost Swan…
What he feared most was that he wouldn't find Tawny – his Tanwen, in time.
~0~
A little after 11pm…
Killian, Emma, and Jefferson waited quietly in an alley a block over from the theater. Swan wouldn't let them or anyone else at the other locations go in until Mayor Belle, Princess Abigail, and the Crocodile wheedled a warrant from a judge. Something about needing to follow the laws of this world if they didn't want to bring the unwanted attention of some daunting organization called 'ACLU.'
As they waited, he could hear Jefferson chuckle softly to himself and murmur, "A pirate captain, a hatter, and a savior – or should it be 'a pirate, princess, and dashing portal jumper'? – walk into a bar…"
Swan leaned over to whisper, "Why is it again that we have him on our team, and not – well, and not anyone we know to be reliably stable?"
Killian snorted, "Your father wanted to go after his father. The dwarves, after the man who killed their brother. And let us not forget the fact that they go where he goes, upon your mother's order."
Pregnant Snow was not a woman to be trifled with, so the stalwart dwarves who were not exhausted from guard duty were going to be watching the prince's back and avenging their brother. The ones coming off of guard duty – Sneezy (who would no doubt have alerted whatever guards the former king has posted if he had gone), Simpleton, and Shame-faced, or whatever the hell their names were, as well as Frederick – were going to pretend business was usual, in case any of the whoresons were watching for telling changes in routine.
This arrangement had of course begged the question of who was to replace them as wardens of the underground prison, since their multiple-fronts assault required an all hands on deck effort. Ginger had then volunteered a few of his other apt pupils – Jillian Jem, the grocery store clerk, Bonnie Peek, the teacher of wee younglings, and Mary Contraire, the plant nursery worker. All were good lasses that could handle those caged ruffians, even if he does say so himself.
Ginger had accompanied Conroy and the wolf-girl to the Bay townhouse, which according to the locksmith was where Tawny's computer was at. It was also apparently where the wolf-girl had been first chained by Maleficent.
"Ruby insisted on going with Conroy and Ginger, as she knows the layout and where some magical booby-traps are. She also growled something about killing two birds with one stone and facing her fears, if you recall."
The lass opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off, because he was genuinely on a roll and tired of holding his tongue, saying, "And someone mentioned the fact that it would be careless to send all the princes to one location, something 'like all our eggs in one basket to hell', so it was decided to send Eric and Thomas to the Spencer estate. And if your real question was why Jefferson is not with them and your fiancé not with you, you have only to blame yourself for that, lass."
This truth silenced her, for they were going to the moving picture theater, which required at least three people to assault. Swan had wanted to avoid repeat of the Dark Hollow, so she had made sure Baelfire and he were not on the same team. He also knew that she had wanted to keep her fiancé safe so she had assigned him to one of the least likely to be dangerous locations, the Spencer estate, while conversely choosing for herself the most likely, Stromboli's stronghold. Because it was such, both he and Jefferson felt Tawny would be there.
And where Tawny was at, so would her partner and friend be.
"It would have been nice to have had Lance here too instead of with David and the dwarves," she unthinkingly quipped. At the look that he gave her, she whined, "Well, I'm just saying, he's handy in a fight."
He winced, "Lass, aside from your poor word choice, your sense of humor is positively twisted. I would not have that man anywhere near Tawny, especially, when she's vulnerable." He briefly pictured it – his cornered kitten laying eyes on the Leviathan and her inevitably ferocious response. He smirked, adding smugly, "I don't think it would be very good for his health."
"One day, you're going to have to tell me – "
"Bloody red bandersnatches!"
Both he and Swan hastened to Jefferson's side and peered around the corner to stare at the back entrance of the theater. What they saw there caused the both of them to add their own startled expletives.
For at the doorway was Larue, letting in groups of twos and threes. Former black knights of the Queen's. Former gnomes, hags, and hobgoblins. Former nobles, supporters of King George and Regina, including Gisbourne.
"What the hell is going on over there?"
"I don't know," Swan replied, "But when the warrant goes through, I suggest we hold off until everyone else gets here."
"That risks someone from someplace else alerting these guys to what we're doing," Jefferson pointed out.
"We'll do that ourselves, if we go blundering in there three against – what two, three dozen?" she countered, before shooting him an apologetic glance.
He didn't want to, but he saw the wisdom in her strategy. He couldn't risk this turning into a hostage situation, or worse, a let's-cut-our-losses-by-slitting-her-throat situation, so he gave a curt nod and said, "We wait."
A/N: Dun, dun, dun...
The next chapter: The Price of Freedom
Thoughts?