Crucifix

prologue

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It had been raining when Trace found the stray; a cold, steady rain that always seemed to mellow his mood somehow. Perhaps that was why he had paused to glance down a narrow alleyway on his way home, where a teenage boy lay curled up, unconscious, against a wall. Trace had stared at the boy for a long moment, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, while the rain beat down on them both, plastering Trace’s pale silver-blond hair to his face and dripping in his eyes.

While he had stood there, indecisive, the boy’s eyes had opened, just barely. They were black—a pure, obsidian black that Trace could see even through the curtain of rain. They had fixed on him immediately, stared at him unblinking for a moment. Trace had not been able to see the boy’s mouth as it was covered by his arm, but for just an instant his eyes narrowed as if he had smiled. The cigarette had fallen, unnoticed, to the pavement, and then the black eyes had fluttered closed once more.

This is stupid, Trace had thought as he had taken the few steps necessary to crouch at the boy’s side. I am a bounty hunter, not a charity worker. He had lifted the boy’s slight weight easily across his shoulders and stood. I have no room for a stray cat—especially not such a troublesome one.

I work alone. I care for no one but myself. I mustnot

These arguments had run, uselessly, through his head as he had carried the boy the short distance to his apartment. They had continued to ring in his ears as he had dropped him with almost unconscious gentleness on his own bed, and dried him off as best he could, draping the wet clothes across the back of a chair and replacing them with one of his own spare shirts and pants.

When Trace had at last sat down, himself dried off and changed, in a chair by the bedside with a fresh cigarette and a mug of coffee, a thunderstorm had begun outside, and his instincts were still howling at him. But he had stilled them when he reached out—hesitated—and brushed aside the still-damp black hair from the boy’s eyes with deliberate, quivering tenderness.

Silence had engulfed the small darkened room, while the storm had raged outside in pale comparison to the one within Trace’s mind. His hand had remained, motionless, on the boy’s head, fingers lightly threaded in the fine strands. But at last Trace had released a long sigh in a cloud of smoke. His lips had twisted in a rare, wry smile.

“How stupid,” he had said. Outside, the storm had gradually faded away, leaving behind the cool, steady rain.

prologue end

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A/N: Ohmigosh, it's been over a year since I've updated anything, and now I'm starting something new. cringe I'm SO very sorry, to those of you who have been waiting for the next chapter of "The Once and Never Prince"!! I promise that I am still working on it. Some other projects (like this one) have taken priority, however, so I don't know when I will be able to get the next chapter done. Hopefully soon though! crosses fingers

In the meantime, I hope to keep this story updated faaaaairly often, since I have some "real life" readers to prod me into working on it. ;-) It'stotally different from anything I've done before, butI have the story mostly planned out, so it shouldn't be too difficult. (Riiiight...) At any rate, please let me know what you think, and I will try to get the next chapter up soon!