deathpixie | Nostaglia trip

This fic was started... ooh, a few years ago now. 2001, according to the stats. Last modified 2003, so it's kind of doubtful it'll be finished. Co-written by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and myself. Meant to be a sequel to "Family Matters". All Muses belong to their creators.

Warning: kind of long. And unfinished.

Posted for [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]

Muse Tale.

The Captain was in Yasmin’s Library of Ideas when she first felt the silver-bell touch of Lyssie’s presence in her mind.

*O Captain, my Captain?*

*Lyss, if I had a drink for every time someone made that joke…*

*You’d never be sober, I know. Have you got a minute?*

*I already said I wasn’t going to the Writer’s Café tonight, Lyss. There’s work to do here.*

*It’s not about that, even if I think you’re nothing but a spoilsport for not coming. Frank needs a favour.*

*I thought you were his current Slave of the Whisky Bottle?*

*Very funny. You should be Musing for comedy. No, Erato’s shown up.*

Erato? The Captain paused. This might be interesting.

*Where are they?*

*In the Collegium rose garden. I’ve been running interference with Ambrosia and Flame.* Lyss’ mental laughter pealed over the link. *I told them the second year students were planning to turn up to dinner tonight naked as a prank.*

The Captain’s lips twitched. *I’ll be right there.* She gave the figurative room a final glance-over, and, satisfied things were in place, focussed on the rose garden.

She appeared beside Lyss, who was peering through the rose bushes and trying to suppress her giggles.

"That time of the century again, is it?" the ex-War Muse asked with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"You’d think she’d take a hint after last time," Lyss replied. "I thought she disowned him after he told her to piss off."

"Twice, as I recall. Apparently Love is not only blind, it has Alzheimer’s Disease as well." The Captain joined the other red-haired Muse peering through the blooms made silver by the bright moonlight. "So, what is it this time?"

"I’m not sure. Frank is awfully angry though."

Frank _was_ angry. The small lizard paced up and down the low stone bench he’d climbed onto, tail lashing from side to side. His hissing voice was clearly audible.

"I can’t believe you jusst ‘losst track’ of her," he spat. Erato, whose peaches and cream complexion had somewhat curdled, glared at her son.

"She’s old enough to look after herself. Who am I to know where she is every minute?"

"Her mother, I would have thought." Erato pouted.

"It isn’t suitable for the Muse of Romantic Poetry to have a string of children hanging round her neck, even if those children are Muses themselves."

"Then perhapss you sshould become the Musse of Contracception ass well." Behind the rose bushes, the Captain had to clap a hand over Lyssie’s mouth to stifle her giggles. The expression on Erato’s haughty face was making it difficult to control her own mirth.

"You, you…" Erato stomped a dainty sandal-clad foot in frustration. "For Zeus’ sake, at least take on your proper form! This is so ridiculous, arguing with a small reptile."

"Thiss _iss_ my proper form," Frank said with dignity, although it was obvious to Lyss and the Captain that he was enjoying taunting his mother. "Or at leasst the one I prefer thesse dayss. Sso deal with it."

"And don’t think I don’t know you have your two floozies eavesdropping on us from the bushes," retorted Erato, shooting a glance at the spot where Lyss and the Captain were hiding.

‘Uh-oh,’ thought Lyss as the hand over her mouth was abruptly removed and its owner stalked forward with a familiar ring of steel. Lyss followed more sedately and sat down beside Frank on the bench.

"I ssee you found her," he said without greeting.

"Mmm-hmm. Are you all right?"

"Fine, jusst contemplating matriccide, only then I’d have to take her placce. I’ll exxplain thingss in a minute."

Meanwhile, Erato found herself looking down the length of a very sharp sword, into a pair of equally sharp blue eyes. Popular Collegium gossip speculated on just how many of the Nine the Captain could take down if necessary. Ieuan was giving even odds on eight, excluding Calliope.

"Iphianassa," Erato began, rather calmly considering the situation. She winced as the sword tip jerked slightly higher. "_Captain_. My apologies. Had I known it was you…"

"Enough of the bull, Erato." The Captain’s voice was cold, but the vestiges of a grin remained on her face. "Just say what you have to say and go, so Frank here can go back to ruining Lyssie’s reputation."

"More like the other way ‘round," Frank was heard to mutter, before Lyss shushed him.

"It’s a family matter." For someone with a sword in her face, Erato was still managing to maintain a surprising amount of composure.

"Thesse two have been closser to me than my ‘real’ family ever wass," Frank declared. "And if you’re going to assk what I think you will, I’m going to need all the help I can get."

"Really, Pe- er, Frank. Have you really become so weak you need to hide behind girl Writers and fan-fiction Muses?"

"No, but the Captain iss sso mucch better with a ssword than me. And I’d hate to deprive her of her fun."

"More of a lover than a fighter, Frank?" chuckled the Captain. She returned her attention to Erato. "Get on with, before my arm gets tired and I slice that pert little nose off."

Erato sighed. "It appears I’ve misplaced one of P- Frank’s sisters."

"Which one?" asked Lyssie.

"Chloe," Frank supplied with a dark look at Erato. "It’ss only been three yearss ssincce sshe ssaw her lasst."

"The one starting at the Collegium next term?" Lyssie had, in her friendship with Frank over the years, met several members of his family - or at least the ones he was still on speaking terms with.

"That sounds about right," Erato agreed. "She just adores her big brother, so I thought she might be with him. When she wasn’t, I thought perhaps he could…"

"Find her for you." Frank shook his head in disgust.

"What makes you think she’s lost rather than run away?" the Captain asked, putting up her sword but not re-sheathing it just yet.

"I thought that at first, but then I found this. She wouldn’t leave it behind." A small silver lizard pendant on a leather thong lay in Erato’s hand.

"I gave her that," Frank said. He looked up at Erato. "Where wass it?"

"Near Shantytown." For the first time, Erato looked sincerely worried. "I’m afraid she might have strayed into it."

"Or been taken," the Captain murmured quietly. She exchanged looks with a concerned Lyss. "Shantytown isn’t the best place for a young Muse to wander."

"Or older ones either," Lyssie agreed. "The fictives don’t exactly appreciate the sight of us. We’ll need firepower."

"My kind of firepower, I presume?" The Captain glanced at Frank. "That’s why you had Lyss drag me here."

"I’m ssorry, Captain, but you were the besst persson I could think of. If anything happenss to Chloe…" To his credit, Frank did look apologetic. "I’ve already squared it with Yassmin.’

"You did? When did this happen?"

"Back at the Writer’s Café, before I went looking for you," Lyss grinned. "Frank asked me to let Yasmin and Ana know we’d be off for a while. When Erato shows up, it usually means some sort of trouble."

"And if I say no?"

"You won’t, not with a young Musse in trouble." Frank’s tone was just a touch smug. The Captain growled in frustration at how well she’d been cornered.

"Insufferable, isn’t he?" Erato smiled with maternalistic pride. Now she was getting what she wanted, she was all sweetness and light again.

"Yess, mother, you can pissss off now," grumbled Frank. "I’ll be in toucch. Let uss know if anything happenss."

Erato handed Lyss Chloe’s necklace, and blew the scowling lizard a kiss before disappearing in a rainbow burst of light.

"And good riddancce," Frank muttered, climbing up Lyss’ arm and onto her shoulder. "Let’ss get thiss sshow on the road, sshall we?"

"Shantytown, here we come," muttered Lyss. "Frank, you take me to the most romantic places."

PART 2

A burst of light and a swoosh of displaced air later, the trio arrived at Shantytown. The Captain managed to teleport them into the shadows of a large Gothic building, narrowly avoiding an open sewer grate. The darkness seemed almost tangible, swallowing the broken streetlights and pooling on the cracked road.

"This is... I don't think..." Lyssie choked, trying to regain her composure. "Where are we?" she managed to ask, picking her way through shards of glass and looking up at the building. "It looks like a church."

Frank, hunched on her shoulder, made no comment.

"Yes, it is. More importantly, I'm reasonably sure Shantytowners won't attack us here -- as far as they have one, this is neutral ground," the Captain explained. She looked around warily, keeping a hand on the hilt of her sword. "At least, it was before the Marauders attacked."

The other Muse shot her a curious glance. "How do you know so much about Shantytown?"

"I brought M'Xer here during training."

"It's amazing how you can hide so much in a simple answer," Lyssie tossed back wryly. Becoming aware of her not-quite-paramour's silence, she gently tapped a finger against his head. "Are you all right?"

Frank turned his head slowly, taking in the dilapidated structures and the haunted look in the eyes of a passing fictive. "Sso... thiss iss where fictivess go when their Writerss get bored?" he asked with terrible calmness.

"No, Frank." The Captain sounded surprisingly gentle. "This is where they go when the Writers decide they don't care any more." A tremor of anger worked its way into her words. "What is a fictive, after all, but a plaything to be disposed of at will?"

"I know what you two are really thinking -- stop it!" Lyssie's voice was like a whip crack, jolting the others into their senses. "We're not..." She faltered for a moment, but gritted her teeth and forged on. "We're not at fault."

The other redhead attempted a smile, failing miserably. "That's what I keep telling myself." Mentally shaking herself out of that insidious path, she added briskly, "It's no use disguising ourselves, as the fictives will know we're Muses anyway. Let's just concentrate on finding Chloe and getting the hell out of here."

Lyssie nodded, holding up the silver pendant. "Frank, can you sense anything?"

He was muttering something about "bloody basstard Writerss" under his breath, but soon subsided. Closing his black eyes, the Muse focused his thoughts, sending them searching for his lost sister.

The Captain maintained a careful watch, manoeuvring around so she would be in a vintage position to defend against any attack. Her eyes burned like twin flames, daring the foolhardy to test her swordfighting skill.

With Frank on her shoulder, Lyssie's mobility was somewhat restricted. Nevertheless she too unsheathed her sword, ready to make strip steak anything that might manage to get past her fellow Muse's guard.

Something nagged at the back of her mind. Reluctantly, she gave it voice, "I have a bad feeling about this. Erato's not exactly the multiverse's best mother, but she's one of the Nine -- with enough power to level Shantytown and find Chloe. So why isn't she doing it?"

"Now that you mention it..." The Captain's expression didn't shift, but the way she gripped her sword was telling. "I've never known the Nine to play a straight game. There has to be more than what we're seeing."

Lyssie pondered the implications, but her answer was lost as Frank's eyes sprang open. "Sshe'ss not here," he said hoarsely.

"What do you mean she's not here?" the former War Muse demanded.

"I can't ssensse *any* tracce of her. Nothing at all." He blinked. "Thiss issn't normal..."

"Great. Now what do we do?" Lyssie asked, worry and exasperation warring in her tone.

"We'll just have to get information the old-fashioned way." The Captain slid her sword into its scabbard. "We ask nicely."

"Define 'nice'."

"Being very polite when threatening them with bodily harm."

Frank grinned. "I like the way you think."

PART 3.

"If I never see another badly written Wolverine fictive it will be too soon," muttered Lyss a few hours later as yet another Logan caricature hobbled off into the shadows. They’d made a very cautious circuit of Shantytown and the area where Erato had said she’d found the pendant, but neither Frank’s senses nor the Captain’s polite intimidation had yielded any results. If Chloe had ever been in Shantytown, there was no trace of her now. And to make things worse, word of their presence was spreading. Both the Captain’s and Lyssie’s swords had seen use.

"It’ss not their fault, it’ss their Writerss," Frank said in a distracted tone — their lack of success was getting to him. "Basstardss are too damn lazzy to make the effort of giving their fictivess a perssonality."

"I needn’t remind either of you that we should be getting out of here soon?" the Captain interrupted tersely. "They’ll be down on us in force if we stay much longer." Frank didn’t reply, but Lyss could feel his tail lashing against her back in frustration.

"So what do we do next?" she asked.

"You could ask me." With a curse, the Captain swung around in the direction the voice had come from, sword at the ready. They were in a rather stereotypical dingy alley, full of rubbish and shadows. Not normally the Captain’s choice for a rest stop, but there was little in Shantytown that was not enshrouded in darkness and despair. There was no sign of the speaker.

"Come out where we can see you," she instructed, eyes darting around for signs of an ambush. Behind her, Lyssie had silently moved to cover the alley entrance: the Captain was glad to see she needed no prompting. Frank had disappeared.

The voice snorted. "Yeah, right. As soon as I show my face you’ll skewer me on that sword of yours. Everyone knows you Muses can’t be trusted." The speaker seemed to be behind a large pile of wooden crates, well out of the Captain’s reach. She sounded young, only a child, but the world-weary cynicism in her voice was years older.

"So why offer to help us?" Lyssie asked over her shoulder. "If we can’t be trusted?"

"Who says what I have to say will be of any help?" Yes, definitely a young girl, small enough to crouch in safety behind the crates. "Maybe I’m just a diversion while my friends come to show you what Shantytowners think of you Muses?"

"It doesn’t feel like a trap," Lyssie murmured. The Captain nodded in agreement, but before she could say anything, there was a panicked squeal from the crates.

"Ahh, get away from me! Get off you little monster! Go away!" There were some thumps and scuffling and several crates shifted to reveal a small ragged girl batting wildly at Frank, who was hanging onto the filthy material of her coat sleeve for grim death. With a grin, the Captain reached in and grabbed the girl by the collar, neatly hoisting her out of her hiding place.

"Right, you. Talk," Frank growled. The only response was a glare from the girl. She was clearly a Jean Grey/Logan child, with large green eyes too big for her pointed face and her dirty red hair tied in a ponytail.

"What are you going to do? Bite me?" she asked defiantly.

"I’ll do a lot worsse than that if you don’t tell me what you know," threatened Frank, uncharacteristically harshly.

The Captain sighed and grabbed her fellow Muse before he got himself into any more trouble. "Settle down, or we won’t get a thing out of her," she hissed, shaking him a little. Frank tried to out-glare her, but it was difficult when she was holding him upside-down.

"Fine. You want to try? Go ahead," he grumbled at last. Muttering something about motion sickness, he scrambled up her arm and onto her shoulder to watch proceedings. Over at the entrance of the alley, Lyssie was biting back her laughter.

"All right, kid, enough playing around. What do you know?" The Captain’s tone was as firm as her grip on the child’s collar. The girl pouted.

"I _do_ have a name, you know," she said. "We Shantytowners aren’t just anonymous toys for your amusement."

The Captain resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "So, what is it?"

"Katie."

"Fine. Now, Katie, how about less of the anti-Muse rhetoric and more useful information? You said we should ask you about our missing Muse?"

"What’s in it for me?" Katie’s look was coldly calculating, strange on her young face.

"We’re not here to bargain," the Captain told her. Katie pulled a face.

"Some big brother he is. She could be hurt, or held prisoner, or anything."

"Looks like we’ve had a shadow," the Captain remarked wryly. "What do you want, Katie?"

"What do any of us Shantytowners want? I want to get out of here before I disappear. I want someone to Write me again."

"We can’t…" Lyss began, but Frank cut in.

"You want a Writer again? Done. Where’ss Chloe?"

"Frank, you can’t just…" protested Lyss, glancing over with a look of concern. "What will Calliope say? Remember the rules about not interfering in Writer’s business? _Other_ Writers’ business?"

"Our dear Queen can sshove her ruless," Frank replied. He looked down at Katie. "I’ll have my Writer put you in her nexxt fic. Sshe’ss not bad, and her sstuff getss read. It’ll give you a chancce of getting out of here. Iss it a deal?" Katie looked at him, her big green eyes shrewd. At last she nodded.

"It’s a deal."

"Is this your way of letting me handle things Frank?" murmured the Captain, the disapproval plain in her voice. "I thought I said we weren’t here to bargain."

"I got a ressult, didn’t I? You can tell me how wrong I am later, okay?"

"If this is what you’re like when you’re sober, I can see why you stay drunk." The Captain gave Katie a gentle shake. "C’mon, sprog. A deal’s been made."

"Stop shaking me like a doormat and I’ll tell you," complained Katie. The Captain loosened her hold, and the ragamuffin smoothed down her coat with a dignity beyond her years. "That’s better. This Chloe, she’s just a young Muse, right? Not trained yet?"

"You could have overheard us saying that while you were tailing us," the Captain countered. "How about telling us something we don’t know? Like where she is?"

"I saw her wandering around the outskirts, about six weeks ago," Katie continued, glaring at the Captain. "I knew she would get herself into trouble, so I told her to get out before the perverts came."

"Pervertss?" Frank asked, his eyes glittering.

"Writers. They come down here, snatch fictives, use ‘em for stuff you don’t want to know. They like kids the most." Katie seemed to enjoy the alarm that crossed the faces of all three Muses. "She seemed nice enough, for a Muse. A real shame she didn’t listen to me." She winced as the Captain grabbed her shoulder again.

"Enough games, Katie," she hissed, bending down so she could look into the fictive’s eyes. "What. Happened?"

"This Writer came. Had a couple of Uncreated with him. He grabbed the kid, tried to grab me too, but I fought him off and ran. You don’t survive long in Shantytown if you can’t fight and run."

"Do you know where they took her?" Frank’s voice was terribly calm, the sort of calm before a tornado. Katie shrugged.

"He handed her over to his fictives, told them to keep her safe for him until he came back. I don’t think he realised she wasn’t a fictive herself." Katie gave Frank an almost sympathetic glance. "She fought real hard ‘though. Gave them a right shin kicking."

"That ssoundss like Chloe," Frank said with a faint grin.

"I’m not convinced," said the Captain. "How do we know it was Chloe? Or that this little brat is telling the truth?"

"Becausse sshe knowss we’re her only ticket out of here," Frank replied. "If sshe doessn’t tell the truth, no sstory."

"You want proof? How about this?" Katie pulled something out from under her many layers of clothing and held is out in a grubby fist. A small silver ball lay in her hand, glowing faintly. All three Muses could sense the magic coming off it.

"Isn’t that…?" Lyss began.

"One of Ambro’ss tracking devicess. Sshe givess one to all the young Mussess, in casse they get into trouble." Frank gave Katie a hard look. "You sstole thiss from her, didn’t you?" The Shantytowner was unperturbed.

"So what if I did?"

"You little brat, she could have used this to get help as soon as she was taken!" exclaimed the Captain. Katie merely yanked her arm away from the redhead’s grip.

"Remember, we’ve got a deal," she warned, before disappearing into the shadows again.

"Should we go after her?" asked Lyss.

"No point. We’ve got all the information she was going to give us." The Captain gave Frank a glare. "And as for you… I know you’re worried about your sister, but when I say I’ll handle things, try and let me, okay? I could have got her to talk without making deals."

Frank looked unrepentant. "That’ss my problem."

"Let’s get out of here before this place comes down around our ears," suggested Lyssie, taking Frank off the Captain’s shoulder and putting him on her own. "We can ream Frank out later."

"Thankss sso mucch for your ssupport, Lyssss."

"There’s only one place the Uncreated could hold anyone," said the Captain. "Club Concepto."

"This is turning out to be a tour of Subreality’s Muse Danger Spots, isn’t it?" Lyssie sighed. "And all I wanted was a quiet night out, a couple of drinks, maybe a game of pool."

"We don’t always get what we want." The Captain looked in the direction Katie had vanished with her own sigh. "Rossi’s not going to be happy with this deal of yours, Frank."

"Sshe won’t mind." Frank grinned, a spark of his usual devil-may-care attitude returning. "Bessidess, sshe knowss I can’t ressisst redheadss." Lyssie chuckled, but the Captain only shook her head again.

"You don’t always get what you want," she repeated to herself, and then readied herself for another teleport.

PART 4.

"I still think this is a very bad idea," Lyssie whispered from where she crouched in the shadows, invisible to prying eyes.

The Captain's reply was more than a little tart. "If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it."

Club Concepto wavered before them in all its unsteady glory, occasionally disappearing only to appear a few feet away. If a patient observer were to sit and watch it all day, he or she would be treated to the evolution of what can only be summed up as the concept of a place where a bunch of people can go to and get pissed. From a humble roadside stall to an upscale New York club, the Uncreated's hang-out exists as a possibility.

It was also a place where no Writer, fictive or Muse wanted to be -- not without one hell of an arsenal. Club Concepto was not known for its hospitality to anyone who was not "our kind of people", thus warranting Lyssie's caution.

Unfortunately, time and options were running out.

"... can't we usse anything other than the direct approach?" Frank wrapped up his argument, torn between his worry for Chloe and his survival instincts. "In casse you haven't noticced, I'm very attached to my life."

"Look, they're going to know that we're Muses anyway," the Captain explained impatiently. "You brought me here to be the firepower, so let me be it."

"Ssomehow, I don't think that ssidling in and playing good copss while you go on a rampage iss going to work."

"Will you two please shut up?" Lyssie extricated something from her jacket with a grin of triumph, displaying it to her fellow Muses. "Recognize this, Captain?"

The other redhead took the shiny object from her hands, studying it. "Isn't this the Browning you had during the TAPSLAUGHT mess? The bit of Writer power Yasmin gave us?"

"The very one." Lyssie winked. "And it still has two bullets in it."

"What-- ohh, I get it," the Captain caught on, giving her an answering grin. "This is just what we need."

Frank's dark gaze flicked between the two Muses. "I'm not going to like thiss, am I?" he sighed.

"Change of plans, Frank," the Captain chuckled, uncharacteristically and horribly cheerful. "How do you feel about being an Uncreated?"

_____________________

It was safe to say that the Bartender of Club Concepto was considered by many to be unshockable. While Major Mapleleaf contended with Writers on a daily basis, he never had to deal with an interchangeable Scott/Remy fusion, each hating the other's choice of drink. From a certain point of view, Writers were easier customers -- the over-uppity tended to be subjected to Pointed Sarcasm, and occasionally (shudder) Retcon.

Therefore the Bartender merely raised an eyebrow as a glowering red-haired Muse burst into the Cafe, embedding her sword into the floor with a loud THWACK!

Standing as straight and rigid as the blade, her morning-sky eyes swept around the Club. "I'm here for information on a missing Muse," she said coldly. "Before you reach for your weapons, listen to this *very* carefully: I have no time for useless displays of machismo. Cross me and I will kill you. Any takers?"

A tense silence descended over the Uncreateds, broken seconds later by a particularly beefy man as he strode towards the Captain. His face shifted uncertainly between Sabretooth and Darth Maul, but the sneer was all too clear. Drawing the huge broadsword slung over his back, he laughed mockingly. "Is that what you call a sword, little girl?"

There was a quick blur of movement.

"No," said the Captain calmly, removing her hand from the man's groin as he slowly crumpled into a foetal position. "*This* is what I call a fist."

_____________________

"Chloe, I hope you apprecciate the ssacrificce I'm making," Frank muttered, perched on Lyssie's shoulders as they contemplated the doors of Club Concepto.

"It's not *that* bad," his companion rebuked, lips twitching as she glanced at her paramour. The Browning's reality-warping bullet had turned her into an Uncreated alternate universe Psylocke. One with a lot more than butt floss as uniform, much to her relief. "It could have been worse."

"Kel'ss going to die laughing if he ever sseess me," Frank hissed miserably, black-tipped yellow ears drooping. Cutely, it should be added -- an adjective applicable to the rest of his teddy-bear-like features. "Lyssssie, I'm a bloody POKEMON!"

The other Muse's face remained carefully neutral. "You should try to get in character," she suggested brightly. "Can you say 'pika'?"

"You're *dead*, Lyssss."

"Promises, promises."

The (former) lizard glared at her, but wisely changed the topic. "How long are we going to wait here?" he fretted.

"Until she gives the signal."

A scream rang out through the night, followed by a wail that sounded vaguely like "Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodmommyhelpmeeeeeee..."

"There you go," Lyssie said, unflappable, over the faint gurgle that followed. She strode to the doors confidently, pushing them open. "Ready, *Pikachu*?"

"Pika bloody on," Frank grumbled sourly. "Let'ss go play Jamess Bond."

The scene that greeted their arrival was one of escalating mayhem, with the Captain as the heart of a deadly whirlwind. Lyssie stepped over a whimpering Estacado and gave her fellow Muse an assessing look. No help needed there -- while the Uncreateds possessed the *possibility* of unbeatable fighting abilities, what the Captain had was very, very tangible. As a wise man might have said, a plank with a nail in it is better for the moment than future lessons in Taekwondo.

Sooner or later, though, she would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Which meant that the other two Muses had lots of work to do...

"What's with the Muse?" Lyssie casually asked a nearby drinker. "We don't see many of them around here."

The Uncreated snorted. "As if them high-and-mighty would *deign* to step foot in here," he spat. "I dunno, the redhead's looking for 'nother Muse or something."

"Haven't you heard?" the disguised Muse exclaimed, all wide-eyed innocence. "One of them was kidnapped -- they *claim* it was us who did it, but I think they're just trying to make us scapegoats."

"Wouldn't surprise me any."

"Lyssssie, what are you doing?!" Frank whispered frantically.

"Hey, did I just hear the rat talk?" the man asked suspiciously, staring at the Muse-turned-Pokemon. "I thought they ain't supposed to do that."

Frank did his best to appear cute and harmless, not a hard thing to do when one is shaped like a yellow melon with pointy bits stuck on. "Pika?"

"I have no idea." Lyssie forced a laugh, swatting Frank with just a little more force than necessary. "Never met a Pikachu before today, actually – I found this outside the Club." She waved a hand vaguely at the Bartender. "I need a drink. See you around!"

"He thinkss I'm a rat," Frank complained bitterly, as soon as they were out of earshot. "A *rat*."

"You're going to be a dead rat if you keep this up," the red-haired Muse pointed out unsympathetically. "How hard can it be to behave like a Pokemon? Just sit there and pretend you're a brightly-coloured cash magnet."

Frank was momentarily distracted by a few Uncreateds converging on Lyssie, all obviously intent on something more than a friendly chat. He glared at them menacingly, electricity crackling around his body. They visibly wilted, trying to scurry away without disgracing their egos.

"It'ss hard to pretend you're John Ssteed when you're a ssodding Pokemon, you know," he grumbled.

Lyssie's lips twitched. "If you're John Steed, what am I, Emma Peel?"

"You're dressssed like her," her paramour leered, making a show of checking out her tight leather armour. "Exxccept the bootss. Very important, the sstiletto bootss. Practically a trademark."

"Get back to me later and we'll see," she laughed, giving him a flirtatious wink. He was about to reply in kind when an airborne Uncreated, screaming curses in Latin, brought them back to the business at hand.

Regretfully pushing aside the pleasant interlude, Lyssie scanned the room while ostentatiously finishing her rose vodka. "Sense anything?" she asked in an undertone.

"Too many people here to be ssure, but thosse two've been near Chloe reccently," Frank said grimly, tilting his head at a couple of arguing Uncreateds sitting in a dark corner of the bar. "Ssomething'ss not right about them."

Lyssie studied them for a moment, then nodded. The pair *were* different from the other Uncreateds. There was a slight solidity to them lacking in the rest of the Club, and a suggestion of individuality not usually acquired until a fictive was at least partly-written by a specific Writer.

"A deal that went bad?" the redhead hazarded a guess, thinking back to Katie. "Our kidnapper probably offered to write them in exchange for help."

"Let'ss find out," said Frank grimly.

The Uncreateds looked up warily as the Muses slid into a seat next to them. Lyssie smiled brightly. "Would you mind if we sit here? We'd like to stay as far away from the commotion as possible," she explained in an exaggerated British accent, waving a hand at the fight.

"Umm... sure, go ahead," said one of the Uncreateds, a blue-haired man built like a linebacker. His companion, a tall woman wearing faded denims, cast a quick, nervous look over her shoulders at the raging Captain.

Another Uncreated involuntarily flew through the doors of the Club, her rapier snapped in two. By now even the Bartender was watching the Muse with a rapt expression, as if s/he had never seen anything so fascinating in his/her life.

The suspects unconsciously shuddered, drawing closer together.

"So..." Lyssie drawled casually. "What was *that* all about? I heard she's looking for a missing Muse. Shouldn't she try the Subreality Cafe?"

"Pika! Pikachu!" Frank chirped perkily, murder in his eyes.

"Kidnapped? Who would do such a thing?" His fellow Muse treated the Uncreateds to a wide, guileless look. "You don't think that's true, do you?"

The man jumped. "No! No, of course not, don't be silly!" he babbled in a high-pitched voice. "The very idea!"

"Yeah!" the woman agreed enthusiastically. "It's not like you can hold a Muse in Subreality forever, right?"

Lyssie's gaze sharpened. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"The bit about not being able to hold a Musse in Ssubreality forever, you basstardss," Frank hissed, losing the last of his patience. Quick as lightning, he leaped onto the man's lap. "007, liccenssed to 'pika'," he quipped, grinning mirthlessly. "Tell me where Chloe iss RIGHT NOW, or you'll be the firsst Uncreated eunuch."

Electricity crackled threateningly, making the man's eyes water.

"And don't *you* get any ideas, either," Lyssie whispered into the woman's ear, holding a sword to her throat. "I'll be very pissed if I have to wash blood off my clothes."

"I'll tell you anything you want!" the man squeaked. "Just don't hurt me -- please!"

"Where. Iss. Sshe?"

"Reality! She's in Reality!" He rattled off a name and address, collapsing in a limp heap as Frank reclaimed his place on Lyssie's shoulder.

"Coward!" the woman yelled, but not too loudly. A sword was an amazingly persuasive instrument when wielded with skill. "Ah, aren't you going to let go of me?" she asked tentatively.

"I'm thinking." The blade moved a whisker nearer. "Don't rush me."

Unfortunately, the choice was taken away from Lyssie as the Captain came bearing upon them. "DUCK!" the former War Muse shouted, taking aim with her sword.

Her fellow Muses hit the floor as the longsword sliced through the space where their heads had been, catching a Happosai Uncreated in the throat. With the gentleness of a bulldozer, the Captain grabbed him and threw his twitching body through a nearby window.

Glass splintered, tinkling as fragments showered the ground and Happosai. The Muses followed in the Uncreated's wake, accidentally trampling him as they
made their escape.

"Where to now?" the Captain panted, absently wiping her sword with a handkerchief before sheathing it.

Lyssie readily provided the answer. "Reality."

"Bugger."

"I agree," Frank muttered indistinctly. "Now can ssomeone pleasse turn me back into a lizzard?"

PART 5.

Normally Muses tread the paths between Reality, Imagination and the places between with ease, hitching a ride in the subconscious minds of their Writers. To cross the borders independently, Writer-free, takes a bit more effort. Or at least a jump-start.

"Rossi’s been reading Gaiman again, has she?" the Captain observed as they popped into existence in a sunny meadow. In front of them, suspended between two yew trees and with no apparent purpose given the lack of an accompanying fence, was a white picket gate.

"What? Oh, you mean the ssimilarity to the gate to Faery. I ssuposse you would have preferred the transsport deck of the Enterprisse?" If Frank sounded a tad grumpy, he was. The indignity of the Pikachu disguise, his worry about his sister, and the fact it was now a _very_ long time between drinks did not make for a happy lizard Muse. Not even Lyss’ promise to play Avengers when this was over could sweeten his mood.

"Do either of you know London?" asked Lyss, before things could degenerate. The Captain and Frank were good friends and had been for a good few years, but every so often their sharp tongues and acid wits could go too far. "It’s been a while for me."

"Not ssincce Em- ssincce I gave up Romantic Poetry," Frank admitted, ignoring the meaningful looks exchanged by the two red heads. "But I ussed to know thiss great little tavern…"

"That figures," the Captain said with a brief grin. "Falcon and I paid London a few visits back in the Thirties; it can’t have changed _that_ much."

"You’d be surprised," said a light tinkling voice behind them. The Captain sighed.

"If this keeps up, my reputation will be ruined," she muttered. Then she turned and smiled humourlessly at the dainty figure sitting amidst the meadow flowers. "Nice to see you, Erato. Not."

The Muse of Romantic Poetry returned the icy smile with interest. "So, I see you’ve managed to get this far. I must say you surprised me, Frank. I had heard rumours all that alcohol was affecting your abilities as a Muse."

Frank muttered something so profane Lyssie blushed to hear it. "I thought I told you we’d be in toucch if we found anything."

"You also told me to let you know if anything came up. Something has." From the folds of her skirt, Erato produced a piece of paper. "I received this." Lyss reached out to take it, but Erato pulled it away again. "For Frank’s eyes only, dear."

Lyssie’s normally warm blue/grey/green eyes hardened, but before she could say anything cutting in reply, Frank patted her shoulder.

"It’ss alright, Lyssss. Let her think sshe’ss cornered me on thiss one," he whispered in her ear, before running down her arm and jumping onto the ground. There was a "POP" as he changed form.

"Godss, that hurtss more ssober than drunk," he muttered as he shook his head to clear it of the usual disorientation. Then he held out his hand to Erato for the paper. "Ssatissfied, _Mother_?" Erato sighed.

"You were always such a good-looking Muse. Why you insist on using that ridiculous shape is beyond me."

"Matter of princciple, Erato. Ssomething you wouldn’t undersstand." Frank’s black eyes glittered. "The messssage?"

"It arrived this morning, on that infernal computer Calliope insists I use." Erato handed over the note with little grace. "I’m afraid things have gotten a little more complicated."

"It hasn’t exactly been simple so far," the Captain murmured, watching the elder Muse with hawk-like concentration. Something didn’t feel right, but then again, nothing had since they’d started this whole Quest.

As he read the message, Frank’s face hardened. "I ssee," he said. "How long did they give you?" Lyss could see he was angry, but there was something else in his expression she couldn’t immediately identify.

"Until midnight."

"Are you ssure you won’t tell Calliope about thiss now?"

"And have her drag me over the coals for losing one of her precious Muses? I’d be better off giving them what they want."

"That’ss probably the firsst truthful ansswer you’ve given me ssincce thiss sstarted," Frank said, sounding satisfied. He tucked the note into his pocket. "We know where sshe iss, sso you won’t need to give up anything jusst yet. But oncce we get back, you and I are going to have a sseriouss talk about thiss whole messss, Mother." With that he turned to his two companions. "C’mon, let’ss get thiss over with sso we can go vissit that tavern I menttioned." Lyss and the Captain close behind, he swung open the gate and disappeared as he walked through. None of the three gave Erato a backward glance.

***

"Care to share what the hell just happened?" the Captain demanded, glaring across the small Formica table at the still-human Frank. They were in a small dingy café not far from Covent Garden Tube Station, drinking very bad coffee out of chipped mugs and trying to keep inconspicuous. The Captain had traded her usual flight suit for jeans and white t-shirt, and looked somehow naked without her sword strapped across her back or hanging at her side. The looks she was giving Frank reminded him she was far from helpless without it though.

"That messssage Erato got," he said, pushing aside his coffee with a grimace. Even with half the sugar bowl in it, it was still horrible, but then again, Frank considered coffee the creation of demons with a grudge against alcohol. Anything that sobered you up _had_ to be Evil. "It’ss a ranssom demand from the creep that hass Chloe. He’ss found out who sshe iss and iss assking Erato to pay to get her back."

"More fool him," Lyss remarked tartly. "That witch doesn’t strike me as the sort to go to any trouble to save anyone but herself." Like the Captain, Lyss was in jeans and t-shirt, with a jacket over the top. She’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way without using Subreality influence.

Frank chuckled. "Ah, but that’ss the thing. Erato _iss_ in trouble. If anything happenss to Chloe, Calliope will have her arsse in a ssling. Chloe’ss ssuppossed to sstart at the Collegium ssoon, right? If sshe doessn’t sshow, the Bitch Queen will want to know why. And we all know Calliope hass more than enough ressourcess to find out the truth."

"So that’s why she’s so anxious to get her back," Lyss said. "But I still don’t understand why she didn’t just track Chloe down herself. Why get us involved? She has more than enough power to go through Subreality like a dose of salts." In answer, Frank pulled the piece of paper he’d gotten from Erato out of his pocket. He’d traded his black trousers for jeans, but kept his usual black shirt and lizard-scale pattern vest. He was also taking care to keep his voice down, since he couldn’t get rid of the sibilant hiss.

"Thiss ranssom demand. Take a look and tell me what’ss odd about it." The Captain and Lyss bent over the paper, while Frank sat back and idly wished for a cigarette. His cravings were interrupted by the Captain’s snicker.

"Erato doesn’t know much about computers, does she?" she remarked. "_When_ did she say she got this?"

"Thiss morning."

"But the date’s for three weeks ago…" Lyss realised slowly. Her eyes flashed. "That bitch knew all along Chloe had been kidnapped! She sent us on a wild goose chase!"

"Not quite a wild goose chase," the Captain corrected. "Erato might have known Chloe was in Reality, being held against her will, but not exactly where."

"And for all their vaunted power, not even the Nine have that mucch influencce over Reality."

"So that’s why she came to you, after all her tricks failed. She knew you’d do anything to get Chloe back, including…"

"Including asking us for help," finished the Captain. "I really don’t like being manipulated, Frank."

"Neither do I." For a moment Frank’s eyes flashed. "That’ss why we’re going to have thiss out for oncce and for all when I get Chloe back. I’m not having her do thiss to me again. Sshe might have created me, but sshe hass to learn I’m not her toy."

"One thing I don’t understand," Lyss was reading over the note again, tapping her cheek with her forefinger. "What’s this ‘Great Poem’ he’s asking for?" Frank squirmed uncomfortably.

"I thought I’d gotten away from thiss crap yearss ago," he muttered. With a heavy sigh, he continued to explain: "Every Poetry Musse hass one really great poem, the one that inflamess its readerss, and makess the Writer a literary legend. Like ‘The Illiad’. Or Elliot’ss ‘The Wassteland’. But oncce the Musse insspiress their Great Poem, they’re pretty mucch wasshed up ass a poetry Musse, and move onto other thingss. There’ss a ssnowball’ss chancce in Hell that Erato iss going to give up her placce ass Lady Muckety-Muck Romantic Poetry Musse, but if Calliope findss out about thiss messss, sshe’ss looking at being bussted down to Dick and Jane bookss or daytime televission. It’ss a Catcch-22."

"So this person who has Chloe…"

"Is bloody well-informed for a human," Frank completed the Captain’s thought. "And they musst have ssome ssort of magical knowledge to pull thiss off. Sso when we _do_ find her, it might not be exxactly eassy to get her out." Lyss gave his hand a squeeze.

"There’s another problem, too," she added.

"What?" The Captain’s expression was grim.

"The bill. Does anyone have any English money?"

***

"We'd better make sure Calliope never finds out what you did back there," Lyssie commented as they stepped out of the station, to confront the bustle and smoke and noise of London.

The Captain snorted. "It's not as if I had any other choice. I'm not spending the rest of the day in jail, and a mind whammy is quite mild compared to the other options I had in mind."

"I'll never imagine you in a Phoenixx cosstume again," Frank leered, just out of habit.

Before things could escalate into a verbal war, Lyssie once again stepped in as peacemaker. "We've got an address, but how are we going to get there?" she asked, holding up the paper. "We have no money, no transport, no contacts--"

"Hold that thought. I may know someone who can help us," the Captain interrupted, frowning thoughtfully. She slipped a hand into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a folded map and displaying it to her companions. "I *thought* it wasn't far from here," she said triumphantly, jabbing a finger at one spot on the map.

"Charing Crossss Road," Frank read out, giving the redhead a puzzled look. "What hass it got to do with the kidnapper?"

"You'll see."

"Famouss lasst wordss."

***

Much later, the three Muses found themselves in front of a dingy second-hand book store, which proclaimed itself via a faded sign as "Hole in the Wall". The front window had recently undergone inexpert cleaning, and as such the streaks nearly obscured the words of a hand-lettered cardboard placard: "Specialising in occult and magic." They could see, vaguely, the bulky shelves of the shop.

"Oncce more into the breach, dear friendss," Frank quoted theatrically as the Captain pushed the door open, accompanied by the groan of hinges badly in need of oil. The general impression they had of the dimly-lit interior that the owner had valiantly fought the books and dust to a wary stalemate. Books lined every shelf, spilling over to the low rickety tables, the floor, and even the counter.

"People *live* here?" Lyssie asked disbelievingly, wandering to the nearest bookshelf. There she found not only a few early editions of H.P. Lovecraft's works, but also an untranslated copy of the Kama Sutra.

"Not really," the Captain answered, her voice slightly muffled as she reached for something over the counter. "She doesn't even like books, actually. It's just convenient for her."

"Oh?"

A grimace marred her features. "Old books are extremely flammable. If she needs to go underground, she'll just toss a few matches in here and leave behind a convenient body." The Muse held aloft a small, yet heavy brass bell. "I knew she'd still be here," she said softly, waving it in an arc over her head.

What rang throughout the shop was not the high notes Lyssie and Frank expected, but a ponderous silence -- a kind of anti-sound. It thrummed through their ears, almost painfully, the echoes lingering long after the bell was still.

"Hello, Iphianassa. It's been a long time."

An old woman walked regally down the narrow staircase at the back of her shop, green eyes twinkling merrily in welcome. Sybil's hair was once a rich chestnut, but had long since turned snowy white. It was pinned up in a loose bun, the wispy locks framing a deeply-lined face. Her ancestors came from all over the world, and the end result was a solidly-built woman with features that looked like a jigsaw puzzle put together from different sets.

"Hello, Sybil." The Captain smiled warmly, enfolding the shorter woman in a hug. "Is Falcon still keeping in touch?" she asked conversationally.

"The last time I saw him was in the seventies," Sybil answered, raking her eyes over the other Muses. There was something predatory about her gaze, despite the smile on her face. "What's this all about, Iphy? You're not here for pleasure, I presume."

"I'm afraid not," the red-haired Muse said regretfully. "These are Frank and Lyssie. Someone kidnapped his sister and is keeping her prisoner in Reality, and we're the cavalry."

"You don't have to ask -- I'll do my best to help." Sybil beckoned for them to follow her up the stairs. "I've heard of ways to cage a Muse in Reality, but I never knew it *could* be done. You're dealing with someone who has a lot of raw power, Iphy."

"I'm really looking forward to meeting thiss guy," Frank muttered glumly, feeling depression settle on him like a leaden cape.

Sybil's sitting room was small but airy, painted turquoise and powder-blue. The few pieces of furniture she had were old and of good quality, mostly Chippendale. No pictures or china dogs cluttered the top of the cabinets and tables, but herbs flourished in small pots on the windowsills. An artist's rendition of Hecate was mounted over the mantle piece. Lyssie privately thought that the room looked like a minimalist's version of Agatha Christie, with a Wiccan twist.

The white-haired woman quickly served them tea and Jaffa cakes -- too quickly, Lyssie noted, as if she had been expecting them. She exchanged a look with Frank, managing to communicate with her eyes how uncomfortable she felt. He nodded slightly, making a mental note to interrogate the Captain thoroughly the next time they were to meet another of her acquaintances.

"You're going to need some money, aren't you?" Sybil handed the redhead a few pound notes and a handful of change. "It's not much, I'm afraid."

"Thanks, Sybil -- it's a lot more than we had in the beginning. I'll be sure to return the favour." The third member of their party seemed completely at home, partaking of the food with enthusiasm. However, Lyssie could not help but notice that the Captain's hand kept straying near her shoulder, as if reaching for her sword.

Sybil drew the curtains and set a crystal ball on the table. She buffed it with a piece of chamois as she read the address Frank handed to her, frowning. "Do you have anything that belongs to her? It helps, especially if she's trapped in a binding circle."

Reluctantly, he took out the lizard pendant. The witch nodded, satisfied, and licked her lips. Her canines were unusually long and pointed for a human. Frank blinked, somewhat disconcerted. He would have been more uneasy had he known that the witch's father was rumoured to be an incubus, something the Captain preferred to keep to herself.

The crystal ball glowed as she cupped its sides with her hands, humming softly. The light intensified, bathing Sybil's face in an eerie glow. Images flickered in the crystalline depths, going in and out of focus for several minutes before they stabilised.

A young girl sat sullenly in the centre of a pentagram, magic-markered onto scuffed linoleum. Her clothing was skewed and her hair was a tangled mess, but nevertheless she looked healthy -- and very, very pissed.

"That'ss Chloe!" Frank hissed, murder blazing in his black eyes. "When I get my handss on the basstard..."

"I was right," the witch spoke up solemnly. "He managed to bind her in a circle -- or a pentagram, in this case." She rubbed her chin, lost in thought. "There are plants you can use to attract creatures like Muses, but very few actually trap them. I'd say he's relying solely on his own strength."

"How can he do that?" Lyssie mused, disturbed by the implications. "It's almost as if he's given himself avatar powers."

"I have no idea. His hold must be very tenuous by now. Oh, your kidnapper's clever, using a marker instead of chalk. Too clever by half. Now we know that if we erase the pentagram, she's free."

Someone hobbled into view in the crystal ball, obscuring Chloe's face. There was no sound, but from the way the newcomer backed away hurriedly, Frank knew his sister was giving her kidnapper hell. He almost smiled proudly, but his face froze at the next scene. The kidnapper had turned around, giving the watchers a good shot of his face. It was thin, bespectacled, spotty... and unexpectedly young.

"He's just a kid!" The Captain managed to swallow her gasp, but astonishment was clear in her tone. For a full minute she stared at the teenage boy, who wore baggy faded jeans and a Wolverine t-shirt. Then her eyes narrowed. "A kid who won't grow up to be an adult if he doesn't learn the word 'surrender' very soon."

____________________________________________________

PART 6.

A Quest usually involves Stages. A Beginning, when the object of the Quest is identified, the Questers assembled. A Search, the journey involved in seeking that object, where the Questers learn about themselves and the others. And a Confrontation, when the heroes charge in for the rescue. Usually white steeds are involved, possibly winged ones. Maybe even friendly Dragons. But certainly not red double-decker London buses.

"The wheels on the bus go round and round…" Lyssie sang under her breath, giving her fellow Muses an impish smile. "Isn’t this fun?"

"Wonderful," muttered Frank. "I love being drooled on by mad old women on my way to Ccertain Death." He certainly looked unhappy, wedged into a corner by a large elderly lady with multiple packages. She’d dozed off shortly after sitting down, and was using the transformed lizard as a pillow.

"Don’t be such a grouch," Lyss pouted. "Where’s your sense of Adventure?"

"Down the back of the coucch with my common ssensse, apparently."

"Spoilsport. Ooh, look, there’s Buckingham Palace!" The Captain grabbed the back of Lyss’ jacket as her excitement threatened to propel her out the window.

"Lyss, we’re supposed to be blending in, not drawing attention to ourselves," she growled in Lyss’ ear. Obediently the other red-head sat back in her seat, but was up again an instant later.

"Look, Nelson’s Column!"

"That’s a telephone pole, Lyss."

"And a policeman in a funny helmet!"

The Captain sighed, and looked over at Frank from behind Lyssie’s almost vibrating form. "We had to let her have coffee, didn’t we?"

"A real London pigeon!"

***

"Well, we managed to ssurvive the terrorss of the London public transsport ssysstem and a hyper Musse," Frank remarked as the Questers disembarked and headed down another busy street. It was drawing on for evening, the smoggy air growing cooler and the footpaths full of commuters on their way home. "The nexxt bit sshould be a piecce of cake."

"I think you’re overdoing the sarcasm just a little, Frank," the Captain said absently, examining the piece of paper in her hand. "Looks like this is it."

"Ssomething tellss me thiss kid iss a Hellblazer fan," muttered Frank, looking at the dilapidated hotel darkly. The scaffolding erected around it seemed to be the only thing holding up the walls. "Real sspot for demonss, thiss."

"Not exactly welcoming, is it?" Lyss shivered a little into her jacket, but whether from the after-effects of the rapid burning up of the caffeine in her system, the increasing English chill, or something else, was anyone’s guess. "Any thoughts on how we approach this?"

"Yess, but it involvess being nicce and ssafe in a friendly pub. Preferably on the other sside of the world."

Meanwhile the Captain was assessing the building with professional eyes. "Frank, concentrate on the matter at hand, will you? Can you sense Chloe at all in there?"

"It’ss a bit hard with all thesse lemmingss about…" Frank spared a small glare for the commuters trudging past. "No, noth- wait a minute!" For the first time since they’d started this insane quest, Frank’s thin face was transformed by hope. "Got her!"

"Where?"

"Cellar of ssome ssort. Possssibly an old wine cellar. Either way, it’ss ssomewhere out the back of thiss placce." Frank squinted. "There’ss ssome ssort of interferencce."

"Our little Marty Sue type?"

"Could be. It’ss hard to tell." Frank grunted and grabbed his head, staggering slightly. "Oucch, that hurtss."

"Frank?" Lyss slipped under his arm, a worried look on her face. "Are you all right?"

"I will be, if you keep up with the ssympathy." Frank leered at his closest - ahem - friend. "Losst the connection, that’ss all."

"He didn’t track you did he?" The Captain’s morning sky eyes had sharpened, become harder. The soldier had come to the fore. When Frank shook his head no, she turned her attention back to the hotel. "There will probably be some way in around the back. Or at least we can smash our way in without the local constabulary being alerted." The grin on the ex-War Muse’s face was in no way friendly. "And then we shall see what happens next."

"It looks like the workers have finished for the day at least," Lyss remarked as the trio made their way to the rear of the dilapidated building via a small, dingy alley.

"A pity," the Captain said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I had a diversion all planned. You in a short skirt. Construction workers love that sort of thing."

"Lyssssie would enjoy that far too mucch," chuckled Frank as Lyss jabbed her finger into his ribs. "Ow! I bruisse eassily!"

The rear of the hotel was less ornate than the front, but no less run-down. They easily scaled the chain-link fence, giving them access to a small yard littered with planks of wood, piles of bricks and bags of cement, a skip overflowing with plaster chunks, broken pipes and other internal fittings, and a small shed with a padlock, obviously a tool shed. Unfortunately the general state of disrepair didn’t extend to the back doors, and the windows at ground level were barred. The only possible entrance was a small window on the second floor that had been left slightly ajar.

"Too small for either of us, and nothing to climb on," said the Captain speculatively. "Are you up for a climb, Frank?"

"Lookss like I’ll have to be." Frank gathered what magic remained to him and concentrated. The stream of colourful language from the small green lizard that suddenly appeared was an indication of how much effort the transformation took.

"You’d think with all the practice you’ve been getting, changing shape would get easier," smiled Lyss as she scooped up the still-swearing lizard.

"You would, wouldn’t you? But it doessn’t. Esspeccially not sstone cold ssober. Sstill, it’ss eassier to turn into thiss sshape than changing back to human."

"Will you be able to change back? If we need the extra pair of hands?" Lyss held Frank up to the highest window sill she could reach, while the Captain kept watch on the alley.

"If I have to," was the brief reply, before Frank scrabbled his way up the rough brickwork. "Ssee you in ten minutess." With that, he climbed to the open window, slipped over the sill, and was gone.

He found himself in a mostly-gutted bathroom. Only a toilet remained, and the smell soon explained why the window had been left open. Some of the builders were big fans of curry and larger. Holding his breath, Frank scurried along the tiled floor, dodging chunks of plaster and half-bricks. The old place was getting one hell of a renovation. The door was closed, but there was more than enough room between it and the frame for him to slip under it. Eyes adjusting to the dimness, he realised he was in a long hallway, not unlike THOSD, with doors at regular intervals on both sides. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of the way out. Then he looked down at the floor and grinned.

It was a good thing builders never wiped their feet.

***

"It’s been too long," Lyss fretted, looking up at the small window anxiously. "What could have happened?"

"Knowing Frank, he probably found the bar," was the wry reply. Lyss scowled, about to retort in defence of her paramour when both Muses heard a sound from the mouth of the alley. Footsteps. As one, the pair slipped behind the skip, the only hiding place left in the darkening yard.

"Maybe it’s just someone taking a short cut," whispered Lyss hopefully. Then they heard the rattle of someone scaling the fence, and ducked down even lower. "Or not."

"At least it’s not a security guard," murmured the Captain almost inaudibly. "Guards don’t climb fences. Could be a burglar." Lyss clamped down her reply as the footsteps approached. Then there was a rattle at the door. This burglar had a key.

The Captain hazarded a peek around the side of the skip, just in time to catch sight of a lanky figure in baggy jeans and a Wolverine t-shirt.

The kidnapper.

Already the door was swinging closed. Fast as lightning, the Captain grabbed a fragment of wood and tossed it gently into the doorway, holding her breath at the slight noise it made. The weight of the closing door pushed it along the floor, until it jammed against the frame, stopping the door from latching. She waited a few minutes more, in case the boy came to check why the door hadn’t closed, but there was nothing. She tapped Lyssie’s shoulder.

"Come on."

***

Meanwhile, Frank was following a muddy trail of work boots from the bathroom down the hall. He grinned as it led him to a small flight of stairs; probably the servants’ stairs back in the hotel’s glory days.

"Take that, Ssherlock Holmess," he chuckled, making his way to the top step. A low growl halted him in his tracks. "Oh crap." He looked behind him.

The cat could only be described as ‘skanky’. It was thin and scruffy, with only half an ear and its coat patchy and dusty. Obviously a stray. And hungry. It stared at Frank with cold green eyes and gave another growl, tail lashing back and forth almost hypnotically. Any moment and it would spring.

Not a good time to discover you can’t change back to human.

____________________________________________________

PART SEVEN

The Captain and Lyssie crept down a flight of dark narrow stairs, barely daring to breathe. Ahead of them they could hear the shuffling tread of their quarry – by the sound of it, he was only just out of sight.

A rat abruptly appeared out of the shadows and ran across Lyssie’s foot. She repressed the squeak of surprise, but couldn’t help the involuntary jerk backwards. Her elbow caught the wall with a soft but still audible thud. Instantly the two Muses froze, listening as hard as they could. The footsteps ahead of them continued without pause.

‘That was close,’ Lyssie thought, giving herself a mental shake for her clumsiness. ‘Too bloody close.’ The Captain noticed her frown and gave her a slight nudge of encouragement.

"Come on," she mouthed, gesturing for Lyss to follow her. The stairs petered out and they found themselves in a narrow corridor, leading to a heavy old wooden door that could only lead to the cellars at this level. The Captain paused, wary – this set-up was perfect for an ambush.