Chapter 1: Initiation

Shift pretended to turn casually into the next alleyway, effectively seeming as though he had always had every intention to do so. ‘Not that it’ll help me much; its not like I’m on my own turf.’ Laughing internally, he barely managed to conceal a smirk. ‘Good thing for him. Wouldn’t have been able to tail me this far without one of the boys doing some serious damage.’

He didn’t doubt he could escape from his newly acquired watcher. This one seemed particularly green, failing miserably at blending in with his surroundings and staying close enough behind that Shift easily kept track of him through his peripheral vision and hearing. That made Shift nervous; either his senses were better than even his cocky attitude had previously comprehended, or his watcher didn’t feel the need to conceal himself because he’d already led Shift right into a trap.

‘Let’s hope for the former,’ Shift thought as he squeezed his lean body up against the wall of the building that created the corner, his dark outfit melting into the shadows and his position giving him a distinct advantage. He would inevitably see his follower before the other could see him.

Quickly flicking a short throwing knife from its sheath on his forearm, Shift waited in tense anticipation as the other man came into view, passed him –

Then struck. He slipped his hand around his watcher’s mouth, instantly silencing him, and pressed the blade up against the other’s jugular, just short of breaking the skin. The man tensed considerably, but made no sound. ‘Good,’ Shift thought, not quite daring enough to let relief flood over him just yet. ‘If it was a trap, I would be dead by now.’

“All right,” Shift whispered quietly. “We’re gonna take this nice and slow. The alley’s dark enough that none of your friends will know where you are unless you make a noise, and I’m not about to let you do that. Got it?”

The man grunted faintly, and Shift took that as an affirmative. ‘Either that or I gut you here and now,’ he thought, forcing his strung muscles to take on the calm, relaxed approach of one who is in charge, knows it, and doesn’t fear using the authority.

They backed up slowly, Shift’s hand still covering the other’s mouth and that freshly sharpened blade mere hair-width’s away from killing. “That’s it,” he encouraged, and glanced back to see the shadows folding across the walkway a few feet behind them.

As they reached the darkened end of the alleyway, Shift decided that just enough darkness disguised them; if they didn’t move too much, no one would notice them, but there was still just enough light for him to make out the other’s reactions. Suddenly spinning the other man around to face him, pushing him up against a wall and returning his knife to its precarious position just short of slicing the other’s throat, Shift quickly took in his features: longish, wavy blonde hair that spilled over across his unmistakable blue eyes, pale, unmarred skin and a sense of real fear and innocence. ‘Shit,’ Shift thought, muscles tensing abruptly in a moment of panic, ‘this better not be a merchant, or I’m in for it. But what in hell’s name is he doing out this late? Thieves and wheelers run the streets at night, everyone knows that… Well, only one way to find out.’

He stepped back a few feet and threw his dagger at a point on the wall right next to the other’s left ear. Before even waiting for it to make contact, he slipped another knife from each arm sheath into each hand. Displaying his daggers and smiling at the stunned gasp he received in return, Shift laughed haughtily. “I’m a pretty good shot with these, especially at short distances. So don’t try anything stupid.”

“W-what do you want?” the other’s voice was higher than he initially expected, but taking another look at his face, Shift decided that he couldn’t be much older than himself. ‘Not a typical response…’ he thought, but brushed it off as a façade.

“Show me your Guard.”

“My what? But I don’t have - ”

Shift raised one of those threatening daggers into throwing position, holding it drawn just beside his ear. “Don’t play with me. Show me your right arm.”

The expression on the man’s face registered utter confusion, which baffled Shift, until he saw that the other’s arm was bare beneath his shirt. ‘No Guard? That must mean…’

Lowering his better throwing arm back to a more comfortable position at his side, Shift asked suspiciously, “You’re not from around here are you?”

The stranger shook his head. “I’m from - ”

“Wait, wait, don’t tell me.” This was one of Shift’s favorite games, guessing where travelers came from. He’d had enough conversations with foreigners to know that he’d gotten pretty good at it. He stepped closer, knives still in hand, to examine the other’s clothing. “Let’s see… that jacket’s pretty thick, cut for colder weather than we get here, and definitely a quality seamstress’s work, so you’ve either come from somewhere wealthy or stolen this from someone wealthy.” Shift paused to read the other’s expression; a defensive look crossed the other’s face when he’d said “stolen.” ‘Not a thief, then, eh? And not too smart either. Doesn’t he know I’d be more than happy to take that extra paper out of his pockets?’

“Either way, wealthy town,” Shift continued. “So I guess I can’t tell much more from the clothing, because it’s probably bought, not homemade.” He thought for a second. “Ah, but the eyes, definitely inland. Just a wild guess, but… Lerent?”

Shock registered on the boy’s face. “How did you - ”

Shrugging, Shift replied, “Like I said, wild guess. You don’t know your way around here too well, do you?” The other turned his face away in embarrassment. “You have family here?”

Another shake of the head. “Ran away.”

Shift paused in mild surprise. They didn’t get too many runaways in this town; not exactly the kind of place you’d want to run to. Sure, there were gambling houses and brothels, like any other dockside town, but not much choice for those who weren’t established but to live by thievery, whoring, and selling illegal substances. Not exactly an ethical lifestyle.

‘Alright, Shift,’ he thought to himself. ‘Don’t get soft now just because you want nothing more than to drag him into bed with you. Can you take him in? Can you afford to? The other guys already think you’ve gone soft after taking in that last girl, Shell, but she’s learning quickly. What does this one have to offer?’

Then it came to him: Education.

“Can you read? And write?”

The other boy gave him a strange look, as if the answer to that question was obvious. “Well, sure.”

‘Perfect.’ “I’ll make you a deal, then. You come back home with me, and teach me and the others how to read and write. We’ll put you up until we can get you trained and on the street. You can stay with us. What do you think?”

Silence, for a long time. The stranger seemed to be debating with himself. “O-okay. I don’t think I have much choice at this point.”

Shift smirked knowingly. “Wise decision. You probably wouldn’t have gotten much farther without losing most of your clothes, or your life. This is Wolf territory, and if you’ve got something, they’ll find a use for it.

“So on that note, we’d better bail. This’ll be your first test. If you can follow my lead, I’ll do my best to get us both back to the lodge alive. Clear?”

Another nod.

Shift turned to go, but paused, remembering that he hadn’t yet introduced himself, and that he hadn’t learned the other’s name. “I’m Shift, by the way.”

“Tylar.”

“Well, Tylar, good luck.”

They made their way cautiously back out onto the main street, completely deserted at first glance, but, as Shift pointed out, possible threats lurked around every corner. They were four blocks away from neutral turf, and another two from Shift’s. A good number for a test run, Shift explained.

The first two blocks were uneventful, the two of them walking in what seemed like comfortable silence, though Shift sensed that his newly acquired friend was just as tense as he was beneath the relaxed posture. As the very first actual passerby came into sight, Shift suddenly stopped and turned toward Tylar, a confused expression on his face. “No, the ocean’s that way,” he pointed vaguely down the next big street, hoping Tylar was up for some acting.

He was in luck. Tylar threw his hand up against his forehead in feigned exasperation, as if this argument had begun several minutes ago and neither could make up his mind. “Where’s that map?”

‘I take that back, thinkin’ the kid’s not smart,’ Shift thought, seeing the chance to slip his daggers back into his hands, just in case, as he rummaged through pockets, taking care not to let pieces of change clink. “Don’t you have it?”

They continued in this vein until the other was safely out of sight then resumed their journey. ‘Just three left…’

Shift almost gave the hand sign for ‘nice job,’ but realized that the kid wouldn’t have any clue what that meant. ‘Geez, even Shell knew the signals. This is going to be interesting.’

After another block, Shift noticed a moving shadow, and began to weave drunkenly about in the street, waving his arm in the direction of the shadow and hoping Tylar would follow. He found Tylar at his side after a few moments, to all appearances trying to calm him down. An arm slid around Shift for added support.

They stumbled down the street, and Shift’s blood ran cold at the sight of the passerby. ‘Great. Damn goves starting to get cocky again. Good thing I decided to fake drunk rather than act the foreigner. Would have worked for Tylar, but I look entirely too local. And we don’t need to draw more attention than necessary to ourselves’.

Again, they continued unhindered after the gove, the slang word for “policeman,” Shift explained, was out of sight and earshot, and Shift favored his new apprentice with a quick smile. The one he received in return was a bit shy, but genuine.

They entered neutral territory, and Shift felt able to relax a little. Sure, the Wolves had watches placed around here, but so did Shift’s Crew. And no one wanted unnecessary trouble in the buffer zone; it was hard enough keeping the goves away without rumbles in unclaimed territory.

Or so Shift thought. Halfway across the block, Shift spotted a pack of Wolves, only three visible, but he suspected at least twice as many hiding in and amongst the darkness. The streetlamps were still lit so he assumed this wasn’t a trap, but he cast a curious glance at Tylar, wondering simultaneously how the boy was reacting, and if he had anything to do with the Wolves appearing in such an obviously threatening manner.

Shift stopped abruptly. “Got anything you want to tell me?” He asked, in a soft, almost accusing tone.

Tylar shot him a hurt-filled glance. “No. Do you?”

Stunned by the last remark into momentary silence, Shift wished he had had more time to think over Tylar’s response, but it occurred to him that Tylar knew even less about himself than he knew about Tylar.

He stopped and slung Tylar’s right arm over his shoulder, placing his left around Tylar’s waist. “They’re Wolves,” Shift explained quickly, dusting imaginary dirt off Tylar’s jacket and top as if he’d fallen. “Act like you’ve sprained your ankle. It’s dark, so they shouldn’t be able to tell that you haven’t been limping the whole time.”

As they stumbled down the street in the direction of the Wolves, one of them separated from the group and began to walk toward them. ‘Geren,’ Shift thought, his left lip curling in an angry snarl as he recognized the curved tooth-like piercings protruding from the both of the Wolf’s upper and lower lips. Geren stopped halfway with his feet set in a firm, wide stance and tossed his long, dark hair over his shoulders while crossing his arms over his broad chest. ‘What the hell is he doing on this block?’

“Ah, Shift,” Geren’s calm, haughty voice called into the night air as they passed beneath a streetlamp. The soft light illuminated his dark, handsome, if slightly sharp, features. “So nice to see you.”

Shift’s expression turned cold and hard as he stopped short, not bothering to reach for Tylar as he mock stumbled and fought to regain his balance. Looking back at Geren defiantly through dark bangs, he replied stiffly. “Likewise.”

There was a pause as Geren approached, stopping several feet away to admire Tylar, who held his head down, pretending to pant in pain. “Pretty little thing you’ve got there,” he commented with an air of disinterest, but Shift thought he saw a hint of recognition in those brown-black eyes.

Suddenly, Tylar glanced up and pushed away from Shift, all pretense of injury swept away in his first two steps. “You,” he accused, walking forward and waving one finger. “You robbed me, you thief! You vagabond, you - ”

‘Gods dammit!’ Shift cursed under his breath. The small amount of trust he and Tylar had gained over the past half-candlemark or so shattered into a million pieces as Shift felt that bitter tang of betrayal come over him. His street-smarts had kept him from trusting too much, but he hated the fact that he’d let his guard down for that pretty face who, though he wasn’t one of a Gang, clearly only wanted revenge against Geren for some robbery. Or had led Shift into a trap that had yet to close. Shift took a few steps back, ostentatiously drawing his knives again and taking a defensive stance, waiting to see how the encounter played out.

‘If Tylar’s going to go after Geren, fine by me. But no way in hell am I going to take a hit for him.’ He wanted badly to spit. ‘Bastard.’

Tylar finished his diatribe as Shift readied himself for possible combat, the laughter that followed putting an edge on his nerves and temper alike.

“Theif, am I?” Geren asked, still chuckling. “Vagabond? You do know that your friend Shift is equally deserving of those accusations?”

That question hung in the air as Tylar glanced back at Shift in confusion. Shift nodded in confirmation, face stone cold and serious, then turned his attention to a flicker of movement to his right. ‘Shit, they’re trying to surround us.’

“Enough, Geren,” he interrupted defiantly. “Call off your pack. This is neutral territory. We’re not here to fight. Let us go.”

Geren’s pretty face tensed as the sound of an owl hooting echoed off of the empty streets. Shift had a hard time containing a smile; that was Ryden, his second, letting him know help was on the way. “If my scouts tell me correctly, you grabbed this one” – Geren gestured toward Tylar, who now stood a little closer to Shift than himself - “in our territory. So that should make him mine, no?”

‘So this isn’t a trap, or at least not one Tylar led me into… But what the hell does Geren want with him?’ Shift sighed audibly. “I don’t know what unfinished business the two of you have left, but leave me out of it. You want to argue with him, go right ahead. But let me go, unless, of course, you want to deal with the Crew as well.”

Shift glanced at Tylar as Geren paused, and cringed inwardly at that pained, lost expression on his face. ‘He’s just as hurt as I am,’ he thought, then, ‘This kid ran away; he’s not my responsibility. What am I thinking? Why should I care?’

For the moment, he pinned the answer on Geren, who had once betrayed him worse than he would ever let happen again, but he knew that answer was just a scapegoat.

“You’re bluffing.” There was more than a tinge of fear in Geren’s reply.

Shift shrugged nonchalantly. “Your gamble.”

“Your skin!” Without warning, Geren charged at Shift, pulling a long, curved blade from the sheath on his back.

Shift sidestepped the blow, using the fact that Geren would have to compensate for momentum, and placed himself between his opponent and Tylar. Another owl call sounded, this time from above. Help had arrived.

“Tylar,” he whispered harshly, “Put your hands up in surrender. Go with whoever finds you.”

Shift had just enough time to finish that statement before Geren charged again, this time prepared for him to dodge. His throwing knives were of little use at short distance with a circle of people around them, so he could only block for the moment, not that he was in the mood to put out anything of killing strength anyway. The last thing he needed was to kill a Gang leader, especially while standing in the middle of their Crew.

He was vaguely aware of his boys coming in and taking Tylar, but no fighting occurred between them and the Wolves. Geren and he began circling, each waiting for the other to make a move, and each watching the other’s Crew out of the corner of their eye. ‘That would be breaking the Rules, but Geren never did care much for those anyway.’

Mid-step, Shift saw the glint of metal off to his left too late to dodge it completely. A sharp blade traced a line across his upper arm, slicing the black cloth and skin beneath. Not daring take his eyes off of Geren, he tried to ignore the blood trickling down his arm as footsteps warned him of movement behind him. Ryden’s powerful voice echoed down the street. “Surrender, or he dies.”

Risking a quick glance, Shift saw that his boys had taken Geren’s second captive, Ryden’s blade pressing dangerously against his throat, and that they outnumbered the Wolves three to two. He turned back to face Geren, and saw the deep anger burning in his eyes, an anger, Shift knew, that would die only with the death of its keeper, or Shift himself.

“You can try to kill me,” Shift began, “but you’ll lose some of your pack in return. Is it really worth it?”

Logic seemed to return to Geren’s brain as his expression changed back to its mask-like calm, and his voice resonated with its usual smoothness. “Give me the boy in exchange.”

Shift coughed out a strained laugh. “You’re not in a much of a position to be making requests.” He paused, letting that sink in, and considered his options. “Tell you what; we keep the boy, and you can have his money and valuables.”

“We already do.”

“Clothing, then. I’ll have my boys leave it in the drop spot in a candle mark.”

Finally lowering his blade, Geren replied, “Deal.”