The man they were
chasing whipped through a door, silk opera cloak just missing being
trapped as it closed.
Ned grabbed the heavy
fire-door before it quite shut and wrenched it back open. "Can't
be far now," he gasped, as he pelted through. "Not like
he's going to blend in."
Jack followed right on
Ned's heels with a breathless nod. They turned another corner, and
skidded to a halt on the edge of a huge convention crowd, a large
proportion of whom appeared to be dressed as some kind of vampire.
Cloaks, hats, canes, rags, fangs.
The perfect place for
the man to blend into, as if he'd been aiming for here all along.
Jack swore, long and
extensively.
Ned quite agreed.
They kept moving, kept
looking, following the swirl of the crowd as it parted ahead of their
running prey and his stolen plans, then closed in behind him (and in
front of them).
Ned yelled, "Stop
that thief!" and heads turned, but no one made as if they were
going to help.
The swirl widened
momentarily, as their prey darted around yet another costumed person
with slicked back hair, cloak, and cane.
The cane flashed out
sideways, hooking around the man's leg.
He went sprawling with
a hiss and a snarl. The person planted the tip of their cane between
his shoulders and leaned on it, apparently unshaken by the thrashing
limbs beneath it.
Ned used the time to
make up the distance, hurling himself into the fray. "Thank you,"
he managed, once he and Jack had the man secured.
The 'vampire' grinned,
flashing a very realistic looking fang, and withdrew their cane. "My
pleasure. It's those like him that give vampires a bad name. I really
can't be having that." They bowed with wordless elegance and
vanished back into the crowd without so much as a swirl of movement
to mark their passage.
Ned put them out of his mind. "Right, you. You're coming with us," he snarled, and he and Jack began the long process of hauling the thief home.
