The room Banksy had managed to pull himself into was some kind of sitting room. He briefly considered using it for its intended purpose and taking a seat in one of the many finely crafted chairs, or just sinking face down into the plush rug beneath his feet, but he decided against it. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get back up again if he took even a small break.

Maybe Lexi was right. Maybe he should get more physical activity in during the week.

"Or maybe Cross should be here doing this," Banksy said softly as he began to pad across the room, keeping his legs spread wide. While the carpet beneath his feet was indeed thick and plush, it was spread out across a floor. A floor made of old wooden planks that no doubt were ready to sing like songbirds the moment he placed too much weight on them. To be caught in such a disgraceful manner would be a blow to his reputation as a thief that he would never recover from.

Also, that was looking at it with a positive spin and assuming he wouldn't simply be killed if he were to be caught.

With this in mind Banksy managed to make his way to the door. Here he paused, tentatively leaning forward and pressing his ear against the door. When he heard nothing, he slowly lowered himself down to the floor and looked out into the hallway through the crack under the door.

The light from the hallway was bright and burned his eyes slightly, but after a few watery blinks he was able to clearly see an empty hallway. Still, he waited another full minute before opening the door. Again, he feared the dreaded squeak, this one caused by an old hinge, but his fears were proven needless as the door swung open without so much as a whisper.

Rich people did tend to take care of their things, and that included well-oiled door hinges. Another reasons Banksy preferred to steal from the very wealthy. That, and they tended to have the best stuff.

He moved quickly down the hallway, wincing with every silent creak of the floor, but it was too open to risk moving slowly. He couldn't be sure one of the guards wouldn't suddenly turn up.

Romeo's last check in had placed him inside the library at the end of the hall. Under the circumstances Banksy was able to reach the library in a matter of seconds.

If this had been any other day Banksy would have been ecstatic to be entering such a well-stocked library. Books were extremely easy to steal and even easier to sell. Old manors like this were usually filled to the brim with first editions that collectors would buy at a premium without even sparing a second to ask where they had come from.

One of his prouder grifts was selling a stolen book back to the original owner. That had been the most nerve-wracking deal he had ever done, but he had been confident that the buyer was an idiot. While most collectors did indeed love what they collected, quite a few simply collected as a means to brag. Banksy had easily pegged him as the latter.

Those kinds of collectors tended to have more money than sense and they rarely asked questions.

He liked people who didn’t ask questions.

The book had been a forgery anyway.

Banksy already knew he wouldn't get a chance to so much as think about stealing anything tonight, though. Entering the darkened room, lit only by the ashen embers of a dying fire, he carefully closed the door behind him and started to slowly move forward when his foot met a slight resistance.

Looking down he was forced to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"What in the hell?" Banksy muttered as the obstruction came into focus.

It was a vine. One that Banksy recognized from the sharp array of thorns that burst from its body.

The King of Thorns.

Banksy took a step back and felt his back press against something. A very soft and warm something. Spinning around he took an unsteady step back, wary of the thorns that lingered dangerously below him.

"Hello Mr. Bank," Lilth greeted with a small smile. She swept past him and headed towards the fireplace. Banksy stayed rooted to the spot as she rekindled the fire and light suddenly illuminated the room.

Banksy couldn't suppress a gasp.

The vines dragged themselves across the entirety of the library; branching out and creeping up even the walls, knocking the books from the bookshelves and pushing into every crack and crevice.

"Quite amazing, isn't it?" Lilith said as she reached up to stroke a thorn, delicately running her finger down to the tip. "Even without a ray of sunlight it can thrive. Everything it touches it takes over. It will consume this whole manor soon, and all within it shall become part of its domain."

Banksy didn't answer as he twisted his body slightly to shield his movements as he reached into his pocket for the phoenix stone.

It wasn't there.

Banksy's pulse skyrocketed as his hand jerked back and forth in his pocket, searching vainly.

"Looking for something?" Lilith asked as she lifted her hand up, holding the phoenix stone between two long fingers. "I have heard of these, but I didn't expect to see one so soon. You must be quite important to have one. Quite impressive, Mr. Bank. I wonder, just whom were you contacting. Should I prepare for more guests?"

Banksy's shoulders tensed and his fingers balled to fists as his brain began to churn.

Should he run? He could probably outrun her… but then she would just raise the alarm. He would be caught regardless.

Could he overpower her? No, she was obviously more than she appeared, he couldn't risk it. Especially when he still didn't know what happened to Romeo.

No, his only option was to keep her isolated in this room. Keep her talking.

"No, no more guests," Banksy said. He forced his shoulders to relax. "I'm actually looking for someone."

"Oh? Would it be Mr. Lovejoy?" Lilith asked. The smile on her face grew as she read the surprise on Banksy's face. "Oh yes, I have been watching both of you quite closely. Both are you have quickly proven to be the most interesting of my guests. Quite a feat, I must say."

"How would you define interesting," Banksy asked as his eyes flicked around the room. There was only one exit.

"Oh, there are a variety of ways," Lilith began to walk towards him. "I suppose the simplest way would be… your taste? Yes, let's say it's your taste, and both of you taste absolutely delightful. So full of life. So full of Magic."

Banksy could not stop himself from taking a step back. "You're not… eating people… are you?"

"Oh Mr. Bank of course not." Lilith laughed as she came to a stop in front of him. "I leave the eating to them."

Banksy did not get a chance to respond as Lilith's hand came up faster than he could process and struck him across the side of the head. The blow lifted him from his feet and sent him flying face fist into the wall. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

xXx

Banksy was only slightly surprised when he woke up. Part of him had expected to be dead, and that same part wished he had died as a wave of nausea swept over him as soon as he opened his eyes. Curling into a tight ball he fought off the urge to vomit as he pressed his head against the cool stone of the floor.

Taking in deep, calming breaths, just as Servilia had taught him, he was eventually able to climb his way to his feet and begin to take in his surroundings.

There wasn't much to see. He was in a cell of some sort. It looked hastily made, the concrete on the walls was still fresh and had cracked in some areas where it had dried too fast, but it would be more than enough to contain him. The door was simple as well, nothing more than a thick hunk of wood with an even thicker iron lock.

Reaching up to his neck to confirm what he already knew, Banksy nearly growled as he rubbed the empty area where his necklace of rings should have been.

Someone was going to pay dearly for that.

With no other way to take his aggression out Banksy lashed out with his foot and kicked the nearest wall. This resulted in two things.

The first being a sharp pain in his large toe that nearly brought a tear to his eye.

The second being a realization that there was something in his boot.

With a bit of effort, and a handful of colorful curses, he managed to pull his boot off and turn it upside down. Giving a good shake, he was not prepared for a ring to come tumbling out. Still, he managed to thrust out his hand and catch the small piece of metal.

He didn't even need to look at it to know it was one of his own. From the feel alone he knew exactly which one it was. It was the first ring he had ever bought. It was probably his worst ring by this point, completely underpowered and practically useless in most situations, but a nostalgic sense of loyalty kept him from throwing it out. It was something he was eternally grateful for now.

But how had it ended up in boot?

Banksy shook his head. He could figure that out later. Right now, he needed to escape and he needed to do it fast. Lexi would only wait so long before coming to investigate and Lilith would no doubt be prepared. He couldn't chance that Lexi would be able to handle the situation with no Intel.

And he still didn't know where Romeo was.

Moving to the door Banksy slipped the ring on his finger and felt the minute amount of magic begin to course through his hand. Closing his eyes, he pressed his palm flat against the lock and focused.

He hadn't used this ring in a long time, but it could have been yesterday for how easily he fell back into the motions.

"Alright baby, talk to me."

Unlike his more powerful rings, this one required directed concentration while in use in order to work. The ring would borrow and refocus what little magic his body contained and turn that into physical energy. This energy would be forced into the lock and he would manipulate it from there. It was akin to having a lock pick, but inside his mind.

Banksy was relieved as his mind ran along each individual pin of the lock. The covering of the lock was thick, but the interior was rather delicate with only 5 pins he had to work into place. In less time than it took him to take in a pained breath he had the door swinging open.

"No lock is unbreakable, no door forever sealed," Banksy muttered to himself as he crept into the lantern illuminated hallway.

He was somewhere underground. From the damp smell he would guess this had once been a cellar before being turned into a makeshift prison. He narrowed his eyes as he spotted a vine that had managed to worm its way into the corridor and across the ceiling. Banksy didn't like the thorns hung over his head and immediately felt more comfortable as he stepped to the side and continued down the hallway.

There were a number of doors on either side of him, but the majority of them were open. Waiting, Banksy guessed, to be filled with other 'guests' of the Widow Black. He came to a stop in front of the nearest locked door and pressed his hand against it. When he felt no magical interference, he quickly unlocked the door and opened it a crack, before pulling it wide open and bathing the room with light.

"Romeo!" Banksy sighed in relief, learning against the wall. "You okay?"

From his seated position on the floor Romeo looked up at him inquisitively. It was only then that Banksy noticed the large amount of dried blood that stained the side of Romeo's neck and had seeped into his white shirt.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Romeo said, tilting his head and giving Banksy a wide smile. His eyes were completely glazed over. "I'm great. Lilith is just getting ready and then we're going to go."

“What?”

“Lilith. We’re leaving soon. Sorry. You can’t come. I’ll write you though. Well, I’ll think about writing you. I won’t write. Sorry. Not really. I’ll be too busy with Lilith.”

Banksy dropped down to one knee and carefully reached out to touch Romeo's shoulder. "Romeo, where do you think you are going?"

Romeo scoffed. "To get married over course."

"Of course," Banksy said softly as he pushed Romeo's head to the side to get a better look at his neck. Even in the dim light, he was able to make out two very distinct puncture wounds. "Romeo, Lilith… your fiancé actually sent me to get you. So, I need you to come with me, alright?"

"Lilith did?" Romeo's face lit up. "That's great. She is just… I don't think I've ever felt this way about someone before… Well, maybe once…" Romeo's face fell but only for a moment before he looked back up at Banksy. "But this time… I'm just so happy man."

Banksy put his arm under Romeo's shoulder and struggled back to his feet. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Let's go see Lilith!" Romeo cawed as he stumbled forward and nearly sent them both to the ground.

"Yeah," Banksy's mouth set in a grim line. "Let's go do that."