The Hood- Short story

As you know part of the fun I've had with Devil's Kiss and Dark Goddess is taking different myths and fairy tales and given them a dark, modern twist. Obviously the King Arthur mythology is a big part of what I write but Ive always wanted to do my Robin Hood tale. So hear it is. It's just a bit of fun but takes place in the three months between the end of Devil's Kiss and Dark Goddess.

What it explains is how the Templars keep uptodate on the supernatural goings on around the UK. There are only nine of them and they need contacts. Since they operate well outside of teh law it was clear their allies would be amongst the criminal underworld. And of course, what are criminals called but 'hoods'? So meet the original 'hood', a man called Robin...

THE HOOD (Part 1)
Billi emptied the box of padlocks, salvaged door locks and various combinations onto the kitchen table. Arthur grunted and slid his plate off it and onto his lap.
Tuesday nights were lock-picking.
She put the table lamp up near, unwinding the power cable from the tangle around her feet. Of course, she should be able to do it all with her eyes shut by now. Then she unzipped her canvas pencil case and ran her fingertips over the picks within.
Gareth had given them to her for her twelfth birthday. Other girls got shopping trips to Oxford Street and concert tickets, she got lock-picks and archery lessons.
Like she needed archery lessons.
She rummaged around in her school bag and pulled in the headphones. Lockpicking called for something mellow, so scrolled down her list.
Prodigy? No.
Motorhead? Definitely no.
Same with all the classics her dad had loaded on. David Bowie, the Rolling Stones, the Sisters of Mercy. She paused at Abba, Percy’s favourite, then moved to Natasha Atlas.
Music to break and enter by.
There was a knock down below.
Arthur sat up and looked to the door.
“You expecting anyone?” he asked.
“Yeah, right.”
The clock said one in the A.M.
That meant business.
She went downstairs into the dark hallway and passed the line of portraits to the front door.
Billi didn’t bother with the chain. Anyone trying anything stupid here was making the biggest mistake of their soon-to-be-ended lives.
The man wore pinstripes. His hand rested on an umbrella and his hair was a thick trail of dreadlocks, decorated with coloured string and beads, all piled up on his head. A random set of pins and nails held the tilting construction in place, more or less.
“Mornin’, gorgeous,” he said.
“Uncle Rob.” She didn’t move, yet. She shifted her boot behind the door, a move Rob didn’t miss. He grinned and held up his hands. “Don’t trust your old uncle Robin? After all I’ve done for you?”
Done? He was almost as much trouble as her dad. Still, he’d bribed the old headmaster into agreeing to keep Billi in school, which meant she might even pass her GCSEs. Maybe.
“Dad’s not expecting you.”
“Some gangster I’d be if I waited for an invite.”