Part 27

At Portsmith’s castle:

Manouche *alone, late at night, makes her way to Portsmith’s castle, being very cautious, hiding behind anything she can as she approaches the grounds. Makes her way around to the back of the expansive property, keeping to the edge of the borders, as far from the castle itself as she can. Keeps circling, then backtracking, frustrated, not finding what she wants. She’s thinking of giving up when the moon emerges from some clouds, casting just enough light for her to finally see what she’s looking for: the stone circle. She slowly, carefully moves closer to it, still braced to run. Tiptoes closer, crouches behind a tree that appears to be a good vantage point, where she can gauge the stone circle without being seen. Feels a hand on her shoulder; jumps up to run, is held back; hears a voice hissing in her ear*

You finally have completely lost your mind.

Manouche *spins around, breathes a sigh of relief* Malachi! Bloody ‘ell, mate, y’ scared me ‘alf to death. *looks at him* What’re ye doin’ ‘ere?

Malachi *sarcastically* Oh, I was just out for a stroll, and I was thinking of dropping in on my dear old friend Commander Portsmith … *scowls* I’m here because you’re here, you fool. What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Manouche: I’ve come to ‘ave a look at th’ Commander’s stone circle. She stole it, y’know … stole it from Bretagne. Well, she HAD it stolen, I reckon. Don’t s’pose she did it ‘erself …

Malachi *interrupts her* I don’t give a damn if she ordered it from Williams Sonoma! What are you doing here?

Manouche: I’ve ‘ad visions … apparently, this is a prime location t’ destroy th’ box. It’s a long shot, this ‘appenin’ at all. I can’t keep Kat, th’ Inspector an’ Raven together fer two minutes o’ conversation, much less long enough t’ do this. But I figured per’aps I should see what th' circle looks like, jus’ in case by some miracle I can convince ‘em. Savvy?

Malachi: Sure, I savvy. But why didn’t you send someone else? Or why isn’t Blake with you? For you to come here alone … you know Portsmith would love any excuse at all to haul you in. And you know her reasons, all of ‘em deadly …

Manouche: Mr. Blake ain’t ‘ere because he don’t know I’m ‘ere. I snuck out, I weren’t about t’ bring him. Could be dangerous fer ‘im, I’d never fergive meself if I got ‘im involved in somethin’ like this again. I ‘aven’t forgotten how it was on that island … *shivers* Y-y’know how it is. Sometimes ye ‘ave to do what ye ‘ave to do. No worries, I’ll jus’ take a quick look an’ be on me way in no time. *looks at him, eyebrows raised* Anyway, what about you?? Th’ Commander wants t’ feed us both to th’ bleedin’ Order, mate. Y’ shouldn’t be ‘ere any more than me. *looks at him again, smiles warmly* Blimey … y’ were worried about me, weren’t ye?

Malachi *irritated* You’re always doing the most colossally stupid things …

Manouche: Y’ wanted t’ make sure I were sound.

Malachi *snaps* Look, don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s … well, it’s … that … what we both went through … your brother, an’ my sister … *frowns* I promised Alifi, all right? She made me promise to look after you. Why I agreed to it, I’ll never know …

Manouche *leans in, kisses him on the cheek* Cheers, mate.

Malachi: Cut it out. Just shut up and let’s go.

Manouche: Not till I’ve made a drawin’ or two, so we’ll know what we’re doin’ when we come back with th’ box. Forewarned is forearmed, mate. *winks at him, pulls small pad of paper and pencil out of coat*

Malachi: Oh, for the love of … god, you’re stubborn. *snaps fingers impatiently* All right, give me a few sheets of paper. You got an extra pencil? I’ll go around to the other side, make a diagram from there. *holds up hand as she starts to speak* And for god’s sake, don’t thank me, let’s just be quick about it.

Manouche *nods, hands him the paper, watches him go. She turns toward the stone circle, starts drawing quickly – how the stones are arranged, the best place from which to approach the circle without being seen, marks indications of what appear to be the front and back of the monument. Hears steps approaching, doesn’t look up from her work* Back so soon, luv? Y’ are in a hurry, aren't ye? No worries, th’ castle is completely dark. I reckon they – *words are cut off as heavy object is brought down on her head; drops to the ground, unconscious*

At the docks:

Manouche *slowly comes to, groaning at the pain in her head, finds herself sprawled on the floor in a dark room. Sits up, feels the floor moving beneath her, realizes she’s on water – in the hold of a ship. Looks around, sees she’s locked in a brig; hears footsteps, pulls herself to her feet. Door opens, and the Leader and two of the Shadows enter.*

Leader: It’s been awhile, Dreamer. You’re looking fairly well, under the circumstances.

Manouche *smirks* Seems we’re always meetin’ under similar circumstances, as it were. S’gettin’ a bit monotonous, innit?

Leader: True enough. But it’s all up to you, the frequency and manner in which we meet. Our offer still stands, and still you haven’t given us your answer. So we like to check with you periodically, to see where you are in your decision-making.

Manouche: Yer surprisin’ly patient, I’ll give y’ that.

Leader: We’ve been patient for generations. When you take on tasks involving these boxes, you learn that patience is the best approach for any endeavor. *pauses* We’ve been discussing the issue with Marchand at length … but the bottom line is, just between you and me … I would prefer to have nothing to do with him. He's too much of a loose cannon, he has no finesse. I trust I can count on you not to relay that particular assessment to him?

Manouche *sarcastic* Oh aye, mum’s th’ word, mate. Although to be sure, I’ll be bitin’ me tongue, seein’ as how Marchand an’ I are very close an’ it's so unlike me t' keep secrets from ‘im …

Leader *smiles grimly* I knew I could count on you. *steps closer to cell door* Are you still of a mind that our offer to you is the best possible solution to the problem of the box? Let me recap, in case you’ve forgotten … everyone is safe … Marchand is neutralized, no longer a threat … you are reunited with your brother for eternity. And the box is safely back where it belongs, never to cause harm again.

Manouche: I’m not sure I ever agreed a hundred percent on that bein' th' best solution. However, at th’ moment, I ‘ave to admit, I see the logic in it. *grips the bars of the cell tightly as a wave of nausea comes over her; recovers, looks at Leader* Tell me, is there any negotiatin’ room in this solution o’ yers?

Leader: I’m listening.

Manouche: How ‘bout this … give it a bit more time, savvy? I can’t leave now. I ‘ave a commitment … to th’ Wonkas. I’ve sworn t’ help Madame when she’s ready t’ deliver ‘er babies. All I’m askin’ is that we wait till after they’ve arrived an’ Madame is safe an’ healthy, an’ recovered from th’ birth. It’s only a bit more time, innit? She’s due in July. *Shadows *buzz, agitated; Manouche winces at the sound.*

Leader *steps very close, looks at Manouche intently, his cold eyes piercing into hers; she feels fearful, but she keeps calm and maintains eye contact with him. He then steps back slightly, nods* As I said, patience is a major virtue in situations like these. I can see you’re telling the truth. But what assurance can we have that you won’t continue to try to work against us?

Manouche: Not so much assurance as jus’ th’ way things are. Me powers o’ persuasion appear t’ be lackin’ with th’ required participants in any plan I could instigate. In short, that means me thickheaded mates ain’t listenin’ to me. Can’t blame ‘em much, they ‘ave concerns o’ their own keepin’ ‘em occupied. Th’ soul box has become a low priority to ‘em at this particular juncture.

Leader *raises eyebrows* Even though the boy and his mother are still in danger because of it? Even though the entire town could be in danger if Marchand were to control it with free reign?

Manouche: So it would seem. *Leader again steps closer, stares at her; she returns his gaze steadily – keeping in mind her excellent training in the art of bluffing, after many a game of chance with Malachi*

Leader: Very well, we’ll give it a little more time. It’s not like you can ever hide from us, as long as you have some affiliation with the box. Regardless, I’m not concerned … I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what we’re capable of if you cross us. *steps back, reaches in his pocket for a key, opens cell door* You’re free to go.

*Manouche looks at him skeptically for a moment, then slowly steps forward. As she passes him, he roughly grabs her, turns her to face him; stares at her fiercely, eyes narrowed*

Leader: There’s something different about you.

Manouche *tries to control her trembling, maintains a calm _expression* I – I don’t know what yer talkin’ about, mate … *words are interrupted as she feels the key to the soul box, hanging around her neck, suddenly become warm to the touch. She hears a very high-pitched sound, like a radio frequency squeal; looks carefully at the Leader, sees that he is not hearing it* S-s-saame ol’ Manouche. *brings hand to her hair* Ahhh, per’aps it’s me conditioner … I believe I changed it since last we met … like it? It’s a mix o’ balsam an’ rum, somethin’ Kidd come up with, she favors it fer that soft, silky sheen it produces … *smiles disarmingly, trying to ignore the high-pitched sound, which is playing the very devil with her headache*

Leader *snorts, pushes her away* Watch your step, Dreamer. And don’t forget, we have an accord. We will reconvene after Madame Wonka is suitably recovered. *to Shadows:* Get her out of here.

*Shadows grab Manouche, one on each side, drag her up the stairs leading to the deck of the small ship … boat ... which is moored at the Deppville docks. They shove her down the gangplank, she stumbles and lands roughly on the dock. Sits up dizzily, shakes her head, looks back up at the boat; the Shadows have gone back inside. Reaches inside shirt, grasps key; it has become cool to the touch once again. She stands up unsteadily, staggers from the docks, heads back to her house*

At Portsmith’s castle:

Mr. Black and Brown *stare at the shadowy shapes that sweep Manouche away.*

Mr. Brown: We lost her. What was that?

Mr. Black *whispering in awe* The Shadows. The Guardians of the soul box. We will not interfere with them.

Mr. Brown: But Malachi is still here somewhere. *they creep soundlessly towards the stones that loom in front of them in the dark night, Mr. Brown with his machine gun ready*

Mr. Black *whispering, sees a dark shape in front of him* There he is. *Mr. Brown raises his gun. Mr. Black hisses* No shooting! We have to get him alive.

Mr. Brown *disappointed* Alright.

*Suddenly, just as Mr. Brown is about to strike, a bright flashlight illuminates all three of them*

Portsmith *shines them right in the eye* This is private property, gentlemen. Mr. Corso and his men will escort you out of the premises. *turns to Malachi who is blinded by the light* Nice to meet you again after that little conversation we had at Chez Roux. *points at him with a gun* Move. We will continue our conversation at the castle.

Malachi *squinting in light, brings hands up, smirks* If you insist, Commander. *glances over at Mr. Black and Mr. Brown, feels fear wash over him as he realizes they are from the Order. Thinks to himself* God, where the hell is Manouche? *aloud, to Portsmith* Lead on.

Portsmith: Alright. No tricks. I could turn you immediately over to those guys.

Mr Black *turning to look at her behind his shoulder* Commander, you are making a grave mistake here. Remember the Order!

Portsmith: Yes, the Order. Don't worry. *to Malachi* Let's go then. *gives him a shove with the gun as they start to walk towards the castle*

Malachi *walking ahead of her, hands up, mutters* So many guns, so little brains. *louder, to Portsmith* Kind of a late hour for you to be out and about, isn’t it, Commander? You should be getting your beauty sleep, especially with the upcoming statue in your honor. I hear it’s going to be … well, monumental. *laughs* I assume you’ll be posing for it? Wouldn’t want the artist to capture any bags under those baby blues, now, would you? I’d be happy to put off our little talk for a later date, it’s the least I can do …

Portsmith *leads Malachi into the castle, locks the huge door after them; they go to the small drawing room with a fire in the fireplace* Would you like to have something? Tea, or coffee? *frowns* I know that you go more for that stuff the Inspector loves, or liquor, but the Order does not approve of those vices and neither do I. So, what were you doing at my stone circle? Interested in culture or archaeology?

Malachi *grins* Then how do you explain that wine cellar to your buddies in the Order? *waves hand* Don’t worry about it, I’ll pass. The stone circle … well, culture and archaeology, they go hand in hand, don’t they? I’m interested in stone circles in general, and word had gotten around that you have a beauty here on your property. I suppose it’s odd, me coming to have a look at it at night … guess I’m just a night owl, Commander. Maybe you are too, being up at this hour. *pauses* It was an impulse, is all. I was out for a stroll, I thought of it, and figured I would come have a look. Sorry to have come on your property without asking. That was wrong of me, I apologize.

Portsmith *with a stern expression* There can't be a castle without a wine cellar. That is culture. You can't compare that to any disgusting opium dens. *Smiles* If you want to tell it to the Order, you will soon have the chance to do it yourself eye to eye. The Order stand for everything I admire. Obedience. Purity. Power. Such as you would only know the Outer Circles, but I wouldn't be calling even them dodgy. I am heading right for the Inner Circle. *looks at him sharply* Such a burning desire for old stone circles, that is admirable. I have to protect my property. No one enters my premises anymore without my knowledge. So what was the real reason to that little rendezvous with Manouche? I knew she was there, though she managed to escape. You had something going on with her? Why else would you want to meet at night? Perhaps to avoid Blake's eyes. You have a reputation, you know.

Malachi *stares at her, incredulous* What? Do you mean to tell me that you think … Manouche and me … rendezvous?? *starts to grin, then can’t control himself, starts laughing hysterically till tears are running down his face* S-sorry, Commander! But have you ever really seen Manouche's face when anyone so much as mentions Blake’s name?? Even if I felt like pursuing her, I’d probably stab myself on those damn stars in her eyes that Blake put there the minute they got together. Manouche and me … ha-ha-ha! *doubled over laughing, he waves a hand at her* Yeah, sure, if you want to believe that’s why we were there, go ahead! Ahh, that was a bloody good laugh … nothin’ like endorphins! *he pauses to recover, wipes his eyes, then thinks about everything else Portsmith said* In all seriousness, Commander … the Order is nothing more or less than a group of bloodthirsty fanatics, and you’d be well advised to steer clear of them. I was being kind when I called them dodgy. And with all due respect, I have no intention of telling anything to the Order, either up close and personal, or by proxy. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be on my way. *starts for door*

Portsmith *coldly* The door is bolted. So you can try to convince me why I would not give you over to the Order where you belong rightfully. As does Manouche. You don't have anything to offer me. You are just like the Inspector, warning me about something he knows nothing about, and probably for the same reason as you. Envy. *frowns* I don't see what was so funny about Manouche. You never know about those pirate wenches.

Malachi: All right … how about that the Order intends to kill Manouche and me? Now I know you’re not particularly fond of either of us, Commander, but it’s hard for me to believe that you would condone murder of two citizens under your watch, as it were. *shakes head* “pirate wenches” … you sound like that creep Marchand. Not that I owe you any explanation of my relationship with Manouche, but for your information, she’s been a friend for many years, no more and no less. Closest she comes is … *pauses, feels pain in his heart, continues* … sort of a sister … *swallows, regains composure, looks at Portsmith* Now, are you going to let me leave, or not?

Portsmith: I am not. Why should I let you go now that I managed to capture you? Or do you prefer Mr. Black and Brown more? They will be waiting for you if release you now. I'll let out tomorrow that I have you at my castle, and then I will have Manouche, she'll be for sure trying to rescue you. With some luck, I may even get the Inspector too, if he manages to stay sober enough. Though I don't think he cares much for you. *after a while* I do understand your concern, but we all have to do sacrifices. But it will be¨for a greater course. It will be an honour for you. *gets up, takes him by the arm and shoves him to a small room with bars in the window and locks the door* It's good to have some private lockups. I will be back in the morning.

Malachi *stands in small room, staring at door, shocked* Portsmith! What in blazes do you think you’re doing?? Let me out!! *rattles doorknob, pounds on door; listens, hears nothing. Looks around room, sees barred window and very little in the way of furnishing; with an effort, he tries to calm panic rising inside. Paces back and forth, runs hand through hair. Finally drops down on small couch, takes out cigarettes, lights one, hands shaking, thinks to himself* Well, Malachi, you old fool, that’s what you get for sticking around too long. Looks like your luck may have finally run out. *Smokes pensively for a minute, then looks down, sees a few magazines on the floor next to the couch, picks them up, shuffles through them: Brigs & Rigs; Home Lockups Quarterly; Monuments Illustrated; Castles of the Rich and Famous; Narcissist’s Home Companion; Spectacular Uniforms: The Swimsuit Issue. Tosses them down in disgust. Finishes cigarette, lights another, thinks* Manouche, if you're listening, stay the hell away from here. Try not to do anything stupid.

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche *quietly enters the house after her ordeal with the Leader and the Shadows. Walks through house as softly as possible; winces as Wilko squawks when she passes his cage*

Wilko: Willy WONka … Willy WONka … the amazing chocolatier …

Manouche: Shhh, Wilko, quiet, mate! *goes into the guest bedroom to avoid disturbing Blake; undresses, gets ready for bed, comes out, enters their bedroom, very quietly eases into bed next to Blake, who’s sleeping soundly. She holds very still for a moment, then sighs with relief when he doesn’t wake up. Looks at the window, notices the dawn is just barely starting to break. Thinks to herself* A little sleep, then I’ll go see about Malachi, make sure he’s sound. *Burrows down into the covers, is just about to drift off, when Blake wakes up, stretches, yawns*

Blake *sits up, beaming* Ahhh … man, I slept great! I haven’t slept that good in weeks. *looks over at Manouche, nudges her* Honey? Wake up, honey, it’s a gorgeous morning. *shakes her insistently*

Manouche *mumbles, turns over* Blimey, love, some of us ain’t so awake jus’ yet …

Blake: Ahh, come on, we went to bed so early last night. Let’s make a day of it, we haven’t done that in so long. Come on, we can watch the sun rise, we can have a big breakfast, then we can go for a walk into town … *keeps shaking her good-naturedly*

Manouche *exhausted* Please, my love, jus’ a bit more time, coupla hours tops. I promise ye, we’ll ‘ave a fine day … I don’t reckon I slept as well as ye did, is all …

Blake *grins* I don’t believe that. I looked over at one point and you were out like a light. Come on, just breathe in that morning air!

Manouche *voice muffled* Aye, I’m breathin’ …

Blake *leans down, puts his face close to hers, moves the pillow out of the way* You’re not trying …

Manouche *pulls pillow back over her eyes* Bloody ‘ell, yer tryin’ enough fer th’ pair of us! Leave me in peace a bit longer, savvy? *turns over, away from him*

Blake *shakes head* What a crab. Wasting a perfectly fine morning … *looks around room, then gets another idea. Slides back under the covers, wraps his arms around her*

Manouche: Ahhh, by th’ bloody powers …

Blake *holds her close, starts nuzzling her neck*

Manouche *warning tone* D-don’t do it, mate! …

Blake *finds the spot on her neck she finds irresistible, kisses her*

Manouche *smiles, gives up, turns toward him* Well … per’aps I’m more of a mornin’ person than I thought … *snuggles into his embrace, kisses him deeply*

On the beach:

*Morning on the beach. Inspector Abberline opens his eyes and sees Raven who slept the night tightly cradled in his arms, sit beside him with a worried expression, looking somewhere in the distance. Raven has wrapped their blanket tightly around him. He unwraps it and tries to stretch himself.*

Raven *grins* You are not used to sleep in the open, Father. I did not want you to freeze.

Abberline: No. I'll survive *sits up and lights a smoke.* I hope Manouche is not too worried about you. I should have brought you back to her.

Raven *with a broader grin* Manouche is sleeping and she is not worried now.

Abberline: Good. But I'll best return you to her for breakfast.

Raven *helping him up* Father, the castle ... *Looks at Portsmith's castle looming some way off on a high cliff above them* Malachi is there. And he is worried.

Abberline *frowns* Whatever would he be doing there, unless ... Look, you best go to Manouche and Blake, I will go to the castle and see what the Commander is up to now. I can't leave him there.

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche *standing in kitchen, making coffee, smiles dreamily at the very nice day she and Blake are having. She’s gazing out the kitchen window, looking out at the patio and the river beyond, when a movement catches her eye. She sees the familiar white raven swoop down, land on the patio and shimmer into Raven; she runs over to door, opens it, smiling* Raven, lil’ mate! C’mon in. Where ye been, luv? *brings him into kitchen* ‘Ave a seat at th’ table, I’ll make y’ some hot chocolate. It’s been a time since I heard from ye, but I weren’t gettin’ any bad feelin’s about it, so I assumed ye were with yer dad or mum an’ that everything were sound.

Raven: Father and I spent a lot of time together … we were at the beach. *reaches for sugar bowl on table, takes sugar cube, pops it in his mouth*

Manouche: Th’ beach? Ah, that’s grand. Y’ jus’ come from there? Where’s yer dad? He stayin’ at Sergeant Godley’s?

Raven *shakes head* We slept on the beach last night. Maybe he’ll stay there tonight. But right now, he’s gone to see Commander Portsmith.

Manouche: Ahh, sleepin’ on th’ beach … blimey, I love doin’ that. Fallin’ asleep t’ that sound … it’s a lot like that ‘ere, with th’ river, but th’ sea is so much more … *voice trails off, she looks at him* Y’ say he’s gone t’ see Commander Portsmith?

Raven *nods* Malachi is there, an’ he’s worried. So Father went to see what’s going on. *sees Manouche’s concern* Don’t worry, Father’ll take care of it. He won’t let the Commander do anything bad. Malachi helped us, so now Father wants to help him.

Manouche *remembers that she doesn’t know what happened to Malachi after she was taken away by the Shadows* Y-ye don’t know why Malachi were at th’ Commander’s, do ye, luv?

Raven: No … just that he’s worried. It bothers me, but … I can’t tell everything he’s thinking. He’s not letting me in … *looks at her* … the way you don’t always let me in.

Manouche: Oh … well, that’s jus’ to protect ye on occasion, savvy? There are times we don’t want t’ worry ye till we’re sure there’s somethin’ to worry about. *pauses* ‘Course, in Malachi’s case … *starts to concentrate, gets blurred vision of Malachi, Portsmith holding a gun, a small room with a barred window* Bloody ‘ell …

Blake *enters kitchen, smiles at Raven* Hey, it’s good to see you, son … *puts hands on Raven’s shoulders, gives him a shake. Looks at Manouche, smile fades* What’s wrong, honey?

Manouche: It’s Malachi, love. I think he’s bein’ held at th’ Commander’s castle, against his will. *motions toward Raven* Lil’ mate ‘ere says th’ Inspector has gone to investigate.

Blake: Well, then let’s wait a bit and see what we hear from him. The Inspector will fare all right, Portsmith won’t mess with him. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be anywhere near Portsmith’s property at this point.

Raven: Why not? She was there last night.

Blake *looks at Manouche quickly*

Manouche *winces, then looks at Blake, eyes wide* Ahhhh ….. c-c-coffee, love? *holds steaming cup out to him, smiling*

At Portsmith’s castle:

Abberline *walks to the castle door but before he has time to knock on the door, it opens.*

Portsmith: How nice of you to pay me a visit. Get in. *she slams the door after him* As it happens, I have had great concerns for you since you slipped out of the detox. *leads him into the morning room* I don't bother to offer you any breakfast. *she goes to the side table, picks an absinthe bottle and pours him some*

Abberline *takes the glass and puts it aside* I am here for an entirely different reason.

Portsmith: And what would that be? I was so sure that you were going to return the form back to me.

Abberline *confused* What form? *takes the glass unconsciously, drinks from it*

Portsmith: For your treatment. Did you really believe that you are in the clear after a few days at the hospital? No, my friend. It takes months to cure an addiction, and you are just in the beginning. Right form the hospital to the den, Inspector ... Not very encouraging.

Abberline *getting angry* You can't put me in another time. My attorney ...

Portsmith: We don't need to bother him at all. This time, you will submit to the treatment voluntarily. I need the form signed.

Abberline *feeling oddly distracted, trying to concentrate* I am not here to discuss that. I want to know if you still are involved with the Order. You don't happen to know where Malachi is?

Portsmith: I gave him a room for the night. How nice of you to want to share it with him. And now that I have both him and you here, Manouche will certainly try to do something stupid and race right here.

Abberline: You can't keep him. Nor me. *tries to stand up, but fails, slumps back into the chair unconscious*

Portsmith *calls a servant* Mr. Abberline wants to join Mr. Malachi. *takes Abberline's glass, shrugs and empties it into the fireplace* Fool.

Malachi *lying on couch in cell room, looks up, surprised, as the door opens and Abberline is thrown in, falls to the floor, still unconscious; door slams shut, Malachi hears the lock turn. Looks down at Abberline, shakes head. Sits up, lights a cigarette, watches Abberline as he slowly comes to.* Welcome to the Ritz, Inspector. *holds cigarettes and matches out to Abberline* I know full well why I’m here. But what the hell did you do to make Portsmith want to put you under lock and key?

Abberline *leans against the wall* She drugged me! *takes the cigs and lights a smoke* It was Raven who said that you were here, so I thought I could come and look around a little. I thought I was safe from her ... she kept talking about some treatment and a form ... I don't understand. *shakes his head* How did she get you? Did you also come and knock at the door?

Malachi *smirks* Almost that stupid. I came here last night, in the middle of the night, because I knew Manouche was snooping around. She was scouting out that stone circle Portsmith has … apparently, it’s a prime location to destroy that box. I knew I should’ve just made her leave right then, but she was determined to jot down a few notes. I offered to help, to speed up the process so we could get out. *reaches in pocket, pulls out small pieces of paper, hands to Abberline* Next thing I knew, there were two men from the Order coming at me, then Portsmith had Corso take them off the property. She brought me here. I don’t know what happened to Manouche. *pauses, anger rising* I think Portsmith is using me to bring Manouche here, so she can make a big show of handing us both over to the Order. Manouche is just enough of a fool to walk right into the trap. *lights another cigarette nervously* I can usually come up with a plan, but I have to admit, I’m at a loss at the moment. Any ideas, Inspector? You’ve surely spent some time here, having worked with Portsmith all these years. Are there any nice little secret escape tunnels in this joint worth knowing about?

Abberline *resigned* No, there is no secret escape in this room. I have worked with her for long, and I have never seen her like this before. *looks absentmindedly at the papers, stuffs them into his pocket, together with the photo and Raven's drawing of himself* I don't think that I know her anymore. *smokes for a long while, lights a new immediately* I believed you more sensible ... Dangerous, this meddling, isn't it, you have become already one of us. *worried* I hope Manouche keeps away … and Raven. I must try to talk to the Commander ...

Back in the morning room:

Colonel *having arrived to visit Portsmith, peeks from around the wall, watches as Abberline is dragged away*

Portsmith *looks at her sharply* Don't take any notice of him. He would only find it embarrassing, poor man, can't keep himself from those horrible drugs. *looks approvingly at Colonel’s glass of water* So, what would the news be? In fact, I have a little proposition for you. I am trying to get Inspector Abberline into treatment, and I might need your help for it. You are investigating the fire. Say, doesn't it appear to you, that the house burned down because he was intoxicated and careless? *looks at her straight in the eye* You don't approve of drugs, do you?

Colonel *nods* No, I agree with what you say about Abberline. *looks down in glass suspiciously, hasn't drank anymore, took one sip then ended up backwashing it into the cup* Need my help? Yes, I looked over the information and indeed it was his intoxication and carelessness. *smirks, shakes head* Portsmith, Portsmith, Portsmith, I go undercover to high schools with Jump Street for a reason, and that is to keep kids off of drugs. So yes, I do disapprove of drugs.

Portsmith *slapping her into the back* Good, good! Truthful information is what I need, and there you can help me. You would not write anything that, say, I would put me into a bad light? There are lies enough already circulating in Deppville ... I suppose I can count on you? *another sharp glance* Would you like to have a tour on the premises? The Roman Temple, the ancient Stone Circle, the Topiary? And I am sure you would want to see the pedestal for the equestrian statue.

Outside Portsmith’s castle:

Manouche *still feeling terrible about having left Blake in such a hurry – and still smarting from the hurt in his face when he realized she’d not told him about sneaking out the night before – approaches Portsmith’s castle, carrying a large canvas bag. Cautiously sneaks around the outside of the building; peers in one window, sees Portsmith and Colonel talking. Ducks back down, makes her way around to other parts of the structure, trying to remember the layout from the one or two times she was inside. Passes one small, higher window, sees bars on it, shivers. Comes to another large window on the opposite side from where she saw Portsmith and the Colonel chatting; peeks in carefully, sees what she hoped for – Dean Corso, in his study, sitting at his desk, reading.*

Manouche: Pssst! Ay! Corso. It’s me, Manouche … I’d like a word, mate, if ye ‘ave a moment. I think ye’ll find it of great interest …

Corso *jerks at the voice, jumps up terrified* Are you folks all mad! She's got the whole premises under surveillance ... *taps his computer's keyboard nervously, then sighs with relief* No alarm. I guess I can't get rid of you without letting you in. A little to the left you will find a small door half hidden by the shrubs. I will come and let you in.

Manouche: Cheers, mate. *finds door, cautiously enters study, looks around nervously, then at Corso* Right, no tellin’ how much time we ‘ave, so I’ll get right to it. I ‘appen t’ know there are certain activities th’ Commander engages in on which ye ain’t too keen. It jus’ so ‘appens that I concur with ye heartily on some of ‘em, fer reasons personal an’ otherwise. So I were wonderin’ if we could strike a bargain between th’ pair of us … in th’ Commander’s best interests, of course. Protectin’ her from ‘erself, as it were. *leans a little closer, puts arm around his shoulders, gazes at him sympathetically* It’s no secret, mate, yer feelin’s fer th’ Commander. Aye, she’s a tempestuous lass, an’ a bonnie one, at that! An' while ‘er power is most attractive, it also can be th’ cause of great discourse, am I right? Aye, I can see by th’ look on yer face that I am. So ‘ere’s what I propose. We’re agreed that her involvement with th’ Order can be nothin’ short o’ disastrous. Then let’s nip it in th’ bud. Ye can start by releasin’ Inspector Abberline an’ Malachi. She don’t have t’ know it were yer doin’ … but think o’ the good ye’ll be doin’ her … clandestinely appealin’ to her true self, her sound mind, so to speak. Once she stops an’ reconsiders, she’ll understand why this is a sorry road t’ choose, an’ she’ll be most thankful that it never went beyond th’ point o’ no return. *One arm still around Corso's shoulders, she looks out into distance, sweeps arm out dramatically as if showing him the grand picture* At that point, you tell ‘er of yer involvement – if ye choose to do so – an’ she’ll no doubt shower ye with all manner o’ gratitude. *winks* What better way t’ show up that sad ol’ junkie Inspector Abberline, eh? Put him on th’ bloody back burner once an’ fer all, I reckon. *brings arm down, looks at him* I’ll grant, th’ picture I jus’ painted is most tantalizin’ in an’ of itself an' is more than sufficient reason fer ye t' agree to me suggestion. However, if ye need more, shall we say, concrete an’ tangible incentive fer performin’ such a rash act … *gestures to canvas bag slung over her shoulder* … well, I’ve brought somethin’ ye may find interesting.

Corso *listening to her nervously, nodding to himself, colours slightly at her words* I must be very careful, you have to understand that ... You don't know at what lengths I have gone to protect her from the Order. Joining the order would be terrible for her and for m... for all of us. *whispering* They are lying to her! They are just a bunch of ruthless murderers in fancy capes. *restrains himself* … but you would already know that. *considering the situation for a while* I could help you, I think, but it involves a terrible risk for me. *looking slyly at Manouche* Yes, I maybe could release Malachi ... But I would like Abberline to go to the treatment. Isn't that man a shame for the Security, and the Commander seems to be so obsessed with him still ... *looking expectantly at Manouche* So what did you bring?

Manouche *grins* Look an’ see, mate, feast yer eyes … *goes over to large table, opens bag, removes a heavy, leather-bound volume.* ‘Ere’s somethin’ I doubt ye’ve ever seen in yer wanderin’s, Corso. A first edition of Alchemical Texts of Claude Alexandre Seguier. I’m sure I don’t ‘ave t’ tell ye who he were … his texts was thoroughly studied by no less than M. E. Chevreul, th’ famous chemist. *pats book* These texts are from fifty formulas he collected. Includes modern translations an’ original abbreviations an’ spelling. Think of it, mate … first edition, two-volume set. *opens book, removes piece of paper* ‘Ere’s th’ certificate o’ authenticity. It’s real, this set is one o’ me prize possessions. *pauses, thinks for a moment* I savvy yer position regardin’ th’ Inspector. But again, I'm merely considerin' th’ Commander’s welfare. Did it occur to ye what it would mean, fer her to continue on this path o’ the treatment, without th’ Inspector’s signature on th’ release document? If word were to get out on that’un, I shudder to think what it might do t’ her standin’ in th’ community. An’ seein’ as how I ‘appen to be in possession of th’ original hospital form—with th’ Commander’s signature an’ lackin’ th’ Inspector’s—in all honesty, I would feel I ‘ave no choice but to bring it t’ the attention o’ the powers that be, as it were. Th’ Vice-Mayor, even th’ Mayor himself, who, as ye know, signed fer th’ Inspector’s release from hospital in th’ first place. I’m sure a smart bloke like you can see how this path is nigh on as destructive to th’ Commander as any she would care t’ walk down with th’ Order. It’s me considered opinion that th’ Inspector’s freedom should remain a part of our transaction, as it were. *pats book again, tantalizingly* So ‘ere it is: Ye get volume one now, as a sign o’ good faith. An' I’ll give ye volume two once th’ Inspector an’ Malachi are released. No tricks, no games … jus’ an agreement between two like minds, against th’ Order an’ its bad influence on yer beloved Commander. What say ye, Corso, do we ‘ave an accord? *holds hand out*

On the castle grounds:

Portsmith: *Opens French door leading to the garden, lowers her voice* I need you to be my ears, Colonel, you have connections with the pirates and they look upon you as a friend. I don't think it would be too much asked if you passed me any interesting information ... I would appreciate that very much. And you would of course keep the best interests of Deppville in mind writing your news. I am all for a free press, of course ... but there's got to be a balance. *at the pedestal* Just look it it, isn't it magnificent!

Colonel: Sorry to sound like a pirate myself when I say, I see no profit in it for me. *stares at the pedestal*

Portsmith *frowning, looking at her with suspicion* What, no profit? I don't understand you. Are you on the side of the pirates?

Colonel: Of course not. Forget I said that. Anything else you'd like?

In Corso’s study:

Corso *doesn't even note her hand, his eyes set on the volumes the moment they emerged from Manouche's bag, frowns when she pats the book so carelessly* May I? *touches very carefully the leather.* Real old Moroccan leather, I can feel it ... they don't do anything like this nowadays. *takes very carefully the first book, leafs through it, listens to it, caresses the title page with the wood engraving* Where did you get this from! I have been hunting for this for long. *takes the other book* Amazingly good condition ... see, this little stain on page 65 ... that is documented in every catalogue. And look, what he says here ... Some say that he must have been influenced by the school of Solomanche ... The University of Toledo. *sees finally Manouche's hand, and shakes it vigorously* They are free. The Inspector may bury himself freely in any den he wants to, hope he takes a good overdose. *rubs his hands, the remembers Manouche is still there* Not that I do this for the books. *smiles nervously* I am just saving the Commander. *turns to the computer, taps the keyboard* The Commander is by the pedestal, let's hurry. *casts a longing look at the books* Follow me! *dashes out into the corridor heading towards the morning room*

Manouche *running* Right behind ye, mate! Aye, it's a grand an' glorious thing yer doin' fer th' Commander. She has no idea how lucky she is, to 'ave yer devotion. *grins, thinks to herself* Blimey, I prob'ly 'ad him with hello ... *feels a warning twinge in her head, grimaces; sees a vision of Portsmith and the Colonel, still talking. Aloud, to Corso* Ah, we'd best hurry, mate. I 'ave a feelin' th' Commander'll be returnin' soon.

Corso *turning to her at the door of the morning room* As far as you don't tell anything anyone, or she'll rip my head off. *takes a key ring and begins to look frantically for the right key, mumbling to himself* She wants to keep everything authentic, hence the old-fashioned locks ... *Tries a key, then a second one, and finally manages to open the door* Get out and fast. *Grabs Inspector Abberline and flings him to the wall* Your last visit to the castle, mate. *to Manouche* I'll show you out, to the back door, fast! *to himself* And how am I going to explain it to her?

Manouche *as they stand at the rear door, she turns to Corso, kisses him quickly on the cheek* We’re obliged, mate. Enjoy them books, take care of ‘em. If I can’t keep ‘em meself, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see ‘ave ‘em. *smiles, turns, steps outside*

Malachi *shakes Corso’s hand* Won’t forget this, friend. *follows Manouche out the door*

Abberline *pauses, looks at Corso* Here’s how you explain it to her. You heard a noise, you came to investigate, and we overpowered you. *hauls off and punches Corso hard, knocking him down to the floor.* Cheers ... MATE. *Scowls at him, turns, follows the others. They run from the property as fast as they can*

On the castle grounds:

Portsmith: I’d like you to be my secret agent for information. And be very careful with what you write. You will be rewarded for good service, of course, from my limited funds. *looks around her estate with satisfaction. Leans towards her, looking conspiratorial* And in time, I can introduce you to … the Order .... *remembers her 'guests' * I am sure that you have duties to attend, Colonel, and so do I. *shakes her hand vigorously* I am looking forward to meeting you again. *Turns around and looks at her one more time * Don't disappoint me, Colonel. *strides back towards her castle*

In the morning room:

*Portsmith marches to the morning room in excellent mood, but stops when she suddenly sees Corso with a black eye, sitting on the floor holding his head. The door to the small room is open.*

Corso *trying to hide that he is trembling with fear* They hit me to the ground ...

Portsmith *looks at him without a word.*

Corso: Commander, I was here cause I heard a noise, I was sure there were more trespassers ... *his voice trails off*

Portsmith *coldly* And then you decided to open the door and let them go. Right. What would I do without you. *looks at him* Dean, did you open the lock?

Corso: I was only trying to help you!

Portsmith: I can tell you how you can help me. You sure you don't happen to have a twin, Corso?

Corso: Absolutely sure, why do you ask?

Portsmith: Because I all of a sudden have a great desire to sacrifice you, with my very own hands. *her eyes fall upon a medieval axe from the wall* … or rather with this. *she picks up the axe*

Corso *struggles amazingly fast to his feet, backs off, whines* No, Commander! I swear, they forced me! I could do nothing!

Portsmith *face red with anger* From behind a closed door. What a threat that was.

Corso: No, the door was open! I swear it, I tried to stop them from escaping! It was … it was … Abberline. He ... he had a key, Commander!

Portsmith *lowering the axe* You are lying, Dean. He doesn't have any keys to my castle. *beginning to doubt*

Corso *with a hidden relief* No, I would never do that to you, I would never have opened that door! You know you can trust me, Commander, he had a key! He's probably made duplicates earlier ... Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?

Portsmith: Blasted! *shatters an end table with the axe* Dean, if you are not telling the truth, you are a dead man.

Corso: I would never lie to you, Commander!

Portsmith *eyeing him suspiciously* No you wouldn't. Well, I want to thank you for your help, Dean. *approaches and smacks him* Invaluable. *smacks him again*

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche and Abberline *enter house after escaping from Portsmith’s castle and dropping Malachi off at From Hell Court.*

Manouche: Blimey, home sweet home! *calls out* Mr. Blake, m’love? Raven? *listens, no response* I reckon Mr. Blake took Raven t’ do somethin’ fer awhile. Make yerself comfortable, mate. *Abberline drops into chair by the fireplace, Manouche pours drinks for them both, brings one to him.* Matter o’ fact, per’aps it’s good lil’ mate ain’t ‘ere right now. I do need t’ show ye somethin’ … it’s what I told ye about, th’ records from th’ hospital. *She leaves room, returns with large folder* This is what ye gave Raven that day he were lookin’ fer paper to draw on. It was on th' table next t' yer bed in yer room. He went ahead an’ drew on back of one o’ them standard forms … then later that night, I ‘appened to look through th’ folder, an’ I found th’ rest. *hands him folder, sits on couch, takes drink, watches him carefully*

*Abberline *takes the folder and begins to leaf through the papers, they seem just to be his medical records. He looks at Manouche, who seems just as concerned and earnest as always ... Is this yet one way of trying to control him and his life? Manouche, wanting to point out that he should change his style
of living, worried about the toll it takes on his body, wanting to stuff him full of croissants and all kinds of cookies and cosy fires and ... He turns yet one page – a brain scan with a note attached to it. He doesn't quite understand what it is about. Then he turns the next page and reads it, reads it again, draws a deep breath and shoves aside his glass; it falls on the floor and breaks*

Permission to proceed with radical new treatment. All findings to remain confidential between immediate staff and head surgeon, and Commander Portsmith, who shall assume all responsibility for the subject, regardless of the outcome. Subject has been made aware of risks involved in this experimental procedure, and agrees to the terms set forth herein, in the interest of research.

Abberline: What the hell is this about! So this is the form that she wanted me to sign! *tries to calm down, lights a smoke* Maybe I'd just better sign it, the way everybody is so eager to control my living ... What a terrible amount of goodwill and effort to take me to the right track. If it is not Portsmith wanting to lock me up, then it is you reminding me of parental duties, or Godley, or Raven, following every single step I take …

Manouche *watching him intently, has been able to read his thoughts; wants to weep as she thinks to herself* By th’ powers, he don’t trust me. Poor blighter, he don't trust anybody. *pauses, takes deep breath, then speaks aloud to him* Inspector … ye sign that piece o’ paper, an’ ye may as well be signin’ yer death warrant. Now if it’s sweet release from th’ mortal coil yer lookin’ for, seems to me there are better ways to pursue it than offerin’ yerself up fer whatever sinister plan th’ Commander has in mind. Bein’ a regular at From Hell Court, ye bloody well know what they are. Fadin’ away on dragon patrol, aye, that’s th’ way t’ do it, innit? Far more peaceful, an’ a sight more fun, no doubt. I ain’t bein’ flippant, mate … I’ve felt th’ call from time t’ time meself. Think I ‘aven’t wanted t’ give in? I’m bein’ pursued from several directions meself at this juncture, as ye know. An’ it ain’t pleasant, I’m th’ first to agree with ye. But somethin’ always stops me. *thinks of Blake* Reckon I’m too sentimental. Take Raven, fer instance … th’ fact that ye feel ye ‘ave to be reminded o’ parental duties … *looks away for a moment, blinks away tears; turns back to him* Inspector … Fred … I’m through lecturin’ ye. I said that once before, an’ I meant it. Who am I t’ lecture, anyway? Need t’ get me own house in order, as it were. *motions toward folder* I only thought ye should ‘ave those documents, an’ be aware o’ th’ plans th’ Commander has fer ye. Do with ‘em as ye wish, savvy? It’s yer life, mate. *looks down at broken glass, stands up* I’d best get somethin’ to clean that up. Stay put, no worries … I’ll bring ye another drink. *picks up the larger pieces of glass, goes to kitchen*

*Front door opens, Blake and Raven come in, carrying bags of groceries. Raven looks in living room, sees Abberline*

Raven: Father! *almost drops bag, remembers just in time, sets it down carefully; spins around, runs to Abberline, hugs him*

Blake *picks up Raven's bag along with the others he's carrying, nods to Abberline on his way to the kitchen* Inspector ... be with you in a minute, gotta put these down. Looks like you're ready for a drink. *continues on into kitchen*

Raven: I told Manouche how we slept on the beach, it was great, she says she likes to do that, too. *pauses, looks at him* How did it go with Commander Portsmith, Father? Is Malachi all right?

Abberline: Everything is all right. *casts a last look at the puzzling brain scan and the form waiting for his signature and puts the papers back in the folder* You don't have to worry about Commander Portsmith .... *lights a smoke and thinks for a while, looking at Raven* Do you want to come with me to see Malachi? And I need to pay a visit to the hospital, too. I could take you with me, if you want to.

Raven: Sure, I’ll come with you. *turns as Manouche enters room with another drink for Abberline*

Manouche *sets drink down on table next to Abberline's chair* I ‘eard. Th’ pair o’ ye go on whenever yer ready, ‘ave a nice time. *glances back toward kitchen* Mr. Blake an’ I’ll stay ‘ere … a bit o’ quality time, as it were. *smiles* Tell Malachi I’ll be comin’ ‘round t’ see him later.

Abberline *picks up the glass and drinks it* I'll take these files with me. I will bring him back later in the evening.

At From Hell Court:

Abberline *hesitates for a while at the door of a tavern* Someone may be keeping an eye on Malachi's apartment. Better first take a look around before rushing in. Maybe he isn't there at all. Look, you stay here, don't go anywhere, I will be back in a minute. *disappears into the smoky tavern, walks down to the den, where the man at the door greets him*

Abberline: No, I can't stay now. You don't happen to have anything ready for me, just a small parcel?

Man: Why not, you got the money, I the stuff, that's a deal.

Abberline: Thanks. *the man disappears through a door, Abberline remains at the doors casting an anxious look towards the outer door, but the smoke is too dim to see anything*

On The Apparition:

Kat *Having arrived back at the dock, hesitates. She'd deliberately blocked Dimitri from her mind in order to see Ichy privately. She'd been surprised at how easy it was. Closing her eyes, she drops the barrier in her mind, only to be driven to her knees in pain from a brain-numbing scream inside her head. Then there's silence. When she rises, it's Kidd who draws her sword.* Bloody 'ell! I be for teachin' ye some manners. *Boards the ship, goes below. Enters her quarter's to find Dimitri on the floor, unconscious. Moving closer, she's becomes aware of a gun at her back.

Kidd: Who are you and what do ye want?? *Three men come from behind her. Pirates all. She recognizes the one holding the gun on her.* Carver??

Carver: Relax, mate. It's not ye we be after. At least, not yet.

Kidd: Again, what do ye want?

Carver: Manouche.

Kidd: Manouche? Yer not makin' any sense man, what did she do te ye?

Carver: Nothin' yet. That be what I intend te prevent. Ye see, I found my woman Loralee in possession of various letters and such that seemed te imply there was a plot afoot te take o'er Tortuga. Well, I couldna allow that, so after much persuasion, Loralee gave up the ringleader’s name. *Leans in close* Manouche. Now Loralee bein' my woman, I didna make it public. So I 'ave te see it gets no further myself.

Kidd *Thinking she must have given him Manouche's name in desperation* No, she told ye wrong. Manouche would ne'er do such a thing.

Carver *Smiles* Strange, I thought the same thing at first. But then I decided she is a pirate after all and a woman. *Sneers* This be fairly simple … all ye 'ave te do is deliver Manouche te me. Then ye get yer man back. Savvy? Turn around! *With the gun pointed at her, Kidd complies. Carver hits her from behind. When she comes to, they're gone. She reads a letter they left her on the table. Finds they've left her instructions* I 'ave te warn Manouche.

At Chez Roux:

Mr. Brown: So the Commander wants to join the Order right to the top, and then she gets hold of Malachi and doesn't hand him over to us. What arrogance. What lack of obedience. What she did yesterday was inexcusable.

Mr. Black: She still believes that the Order is eager to get her in. She doesn't understand that she is too low-ranking for the Order. We may have to feed her little fancy yet for a while, but there isn't a single soul in Deppville that is worthy of the Order.

Mr. Brown: This looked like a good quarters for the Order. Pity that castle … such ceremonies there could have been held. Feasts in the main hall … sacrifices at the stone circle … barbeque parties on the lawn … *stops when he sees Mr. Black staring at him with cold eyes* Er … I just meant it would have been a wonderful place.

Mr. Black: As fast as we get Manouche and Malachi, Deppville can say goodbye to the Order. This place is an abomination, full of pirates, petty criminals, maniacal officials, junkies. Opium dens and drink bars. A pitiful place. *frowns, following how Mr. Brown looks longingly at the breakfast table.* Eat your bread and water. Time to do some planning.

Mr. Brown *chastised, picks up his bread without butter, smirks* I'd like to see the Commander's face when she learns that she is totally unimportant to the Order. Unable to follow any rules.

Mr. Black: Right. Let's get to the plan. How easy it is to play on the weaknesses of the citizens of this miserable town. Do you have the shades? Let's meet miss Daphne …

At Portsmith’s castle:

*Corso is carefully faking the Commander's signature in an invoice in order to obtain The Certainty of the World of Spirits Fully Evinced, a most delicious first edition from 1691, when the Commander, without knocking, steps in. Corso shoves quickly the paper under a book and looks at her like a deer caught in a headlight of a fast approaching truck. Or tank.*

Portsmith *sets her eyes on the volumes Corso got from Manouche* What are you doing?

Corso *coughs* Private correspondence.

Portsmith: I don't think I have seen these before. *picks up one of the books, leafs through it completely disinterested, suddenly rips a page* Oops, these old books are so fragile.

Corso *horrified, reaches out for the book in desperation* Commander, that book is invaluable!

Portsmith: Really? Doesn't look like that to me. *bends the covers*

Corso: No, please, don't do it. What is it that you want?

Portsmith: I want the truth.

Corso: I can tell you all the versions of truth I know, just let that book be!

Portsmith: They keys, Corso.

Corso: Believe me, I would never help folks like them escape. Never. You have never caught me dealing behind your back!

Portsmith: Where did you get this from? *dangles the book in the air*

Corso *following the book, praying she will not drop it* From Man... Masters and Johnson. It was on sale.

Portsmith: So? That's interesting. Then it isn't much worth. *tosses the book over her shoulder, it hits the mantelpiece and falls with a thud on the floor*

Corso: No! *rushes to save the book, cradles it in his hands, brushes the leather carefully*

Portsmith: You are right. I have never caught you dealing behind my back. How very convenient that the Inspector happened to have a set of my keys in his pocket. What a coincidence that was.

Corso *eagerly* Yes, who would have guessed as much!

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche *after Abberline and Raven have left, goes to kitchen, sees that Blake isn’t there. Walks through house, calling for him* Where are ye, love? Did ye ‘ave a nice time with Raven? I were successful … I were able t’ rescue Malachi an’ th’ Inspector. Felt rather good t’ help Malachi, he’s bailed me out more’n once. I knew them rare books would tempt Corso. I hated t’ give ‘em up, they was prob’ly th’ most valuable thing I own. But sometimes y’ have to do what ……. *enters bedroom, stops, looks on in surprise* Wh-what’re ye doin’?

Blake: I’m packin’. *folds a shirt, places it in an open pack on the bed.

Manouche: Aye, I can see that, but … why? Where are y’ goin’?

Blake *shrugs* Not sure. I just have to go away for a little while. *goes over to dresser, opens drawer, starts to reach in, stops. Turns to her* I can’t be around this right now. I can’t take it.

Manouche: T-take what, love?

Blake: I can’t take never knowing when you’re gonna disappear, when you’re gonna go off on some life-threatening crusade … an’ not so much as a note left behind, an’ me sittin’ in an empty house, wondering if you’re ever gonna come back at all. Not even knowing where to begin to look for you. Not even knowing if I should … *looks at her, turns back to drawer, grabs more clothes, brings them to the bag*

Manouche *voice trembling* Oh, love, please, I’m beggin’ ye, don’t do this … I … I’m so sorry fer sneakin’ out last night an’ not tellin’ ye. That were wrong o’ me.

Blake: It’s not just last night. It’s everything. I knew what I was getting into with you, an’ I accepted it. I know you’re just going to do what you need to do, and I know that means you’ll be living dangerously, an’ sometimes I won’t be included for what you consider my own good, or for the fact that there’s nothing I could do to help. *shrugs* Maybe I’m tired of feeling so helpless … so useless. That, on top of worrying about you every waking minute …

Manouche *tears in her eyes* Blimey, love, yer so far from th’ terms useless or worthless, I don’t know where t’ begin. I don’t know what I’d do without ye …

Blake: I know what you’d do. You’d do exactly what you’re doing. You’d keep figuring out how to save either yourself, or your friends, or all of the above, at the eleventh hour … only to turn around and do it all again tomorrow. *shakes head* Look, I know it’s stupid, but … I can’t stand knowing that you’d be just fine without me here. More often than not, I wind up making myself most useful by keeping an eye on Raven, when he’s here, or some other manner of keepin’ the home fires burnin’, while you’re off in the trenches. Sorry, I hate to admit it, but I guess it’s the male ego ... *sighs, finishes packing up the bag*

Manouche: I – I’m so s-s-sorry …

Blake *looks up at her, sees her tears; comes over to her, takes her in his arms* Honey, I’m not leaving you. You’re my wife, I love you. I still have every intention of spending my life with you. And in spite of everything I just said, I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I’m just going off by myself for a little while, that’s all. That used to be my life, you know. It was what I wanted, but you changed all that. Matter of fact, I probably won’t be gone long at all. Don’t think I could stand to be away for too long. *smiles slightly, gently wipes her tears away* I’m just feeling frustrated … inadequate … I need some time alone, somewhere other than in this house, waiting to hear whether you’ve been kidnapped or are simply having drinks with Willy and Madame at Chez Roux, or comparing notes with Malachi. The way I see it, one day, all this stuff will be over … somehow you’ll manage to resolve the business with that box … someone will come up with an idea to get rid of those men from the Order … and you an’ I will finally be able to live the nice, boring life we’d love to know. An’ if there’s anything I can do to help all that come about, you know I will. But for now … just a little break, that’s all. I know there's a lot of danger right now, I know this isn't the best timing, I hate to be selfish. But it's somethin' I need to do. Get out into nature for a time, build a campfire, sit an’ stare into it for awhile, cook something over it … write some verse. Does that make sense to you, do you understand? Savvy?

Manouche *nods* S-savvy. Y' ain't bein' selfish, I understand. *looks into his eyes* B-but I won’t know where y’ are, will I? I won’t know when yer comin’ back …

Blake *very gently, not wanting to hurt her, but needing to be honest* That’s right. Then you’ll see how I’ve been feeling. *Manouche throws her arms around him sobbing, filled with remorse* Shhh, honey, it’s okay, I know you never meant to hurt me. It’s just the way things have been. *pulls her close, kisses her*

Manouche: I wish I could say it’ll be different—

Blake *holds hand up, stopping her* No, don’t say that. I don’t expect it. Maybe … well, maybe from now on, at least tell me if you have to go do something and don’t want me to come along. An’ in turn, I’ll try to respect that and let you go when that’s what you feel you need. But honey, to wake up and find you’ve gone … I can’t tell you how horrible that is …

Manouche: I — I won’t do that ever again, love.

Blake *smiles* Good enough. *gently releases her, closes up bag, leaves room, goes into kitchen where he’s put together some supplies; adds that bag to his other one, walks into living room toward front door. Passes Wilko’s cage*

Wilko: Good morning, starshine! The earth says hello!

Blake *grins* ‘Morning, Wilko.

Wilko: I love ye, Mr. William Blake. Deux coeurs, une âme, notre monde.

Blake *smile fades, leans close to Wilko* Take care of her. *Wilko bobs head as if nodding. Blake turns as Manouche approaches; she walks with him to the door. He sets bags down, takes her in his arms* I won’t be gone long, honey, I promise. Please, please be careful.

Manouche: Y-ye be careful as well, m’ love. *smiles* Write me some o’ yer lovely poetry while yer away, savvy?

Blake *nods, draws her close, kisses her passionately* D-deux coeurs, une âme, notre monde. *gazes into her eyes for a long time; releases her, puts on hat, picks up bags, turns, walks away from the house*

Manouche *smiles through tears, waves when he turns around; he waves back, blows her a kiss. She watches until he’s out of sight, whispers after him* Deux coeurs, une âme, notre monde. *She closes the door, locks it, walks back into living room. Sits on couch, sees her drink she’d forgotten about, on the table in front of her. Picks it up, drinks it slowly, noticing a thousand tiny sounds she’d never heard before in the house. Stares into fireplace, considers building a fire; knowing it would do little to ease the sudden shivering that’s come over her*