A/N: I'm finally getting around to editing this. Apologies for previous lack of grammar/spelling/common sense. Apologies for current lack of expertise in those areas, but I am improving, I hope.

Disclaimer for All Chapters: I don't own Thief Lord.

Rachel walked into her room, dumped her backpack beside her desk, and turned on her computer with her foot. Then, the kicked off her shoes, pulled her hair free of its ponytail, and flopped down in front of her desk to wait for her computer to load. Behind her, a Border Collie trotted in and headed straight for its master's bed.

Rachel finally opened a Word document, and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Letting out a charged breath, her fingers began typing like a whirlwind.

The cool Venetian air that brushed against my face swirled pleasantly in my lungs, sending chills through my lithe body. I slunk down the alley, eyes searching around every bend—and frequently behind me—for any sign of men. There were none. My coat made no sound as I moved, and the collar brushed my cheek as I turned to glance behind yet again. My shoes made no sound as I stepped carefully around puddles and loose cobblestones.

The girl sitting at the computer smirked. 'So far, so good,' she thought to herself.

I tipped my hat a little as I peeked around the corner of the alley I was about to leave, then straightened up so as not to seem suspicious.

The moon graced the world with its silvery presence, casting the damp city in an eerie glint. There was something awesome in the air, giving me a thrill—it was amazing, the feeling of nighttime in Venice. But then again, everywhere was like this at night. No one was pushing or shoving, and you could hear every sound for a mile.

I passed a familiar shop and clucked softly. A pair of owl-like eyes peered up at me from the darkness under the eave; then my good friend Shasta trotted out. His grimy, black-and-white fur was mussed, but his tail wagged excitedly. I flinched as I was splattered with dirty water, and I shook my head. Shasta grinned at me; I patted his head, then we set off down the street once more.

Roughly thirty minutes later, the moon was hanging straight above us: midnight. Feet aching, I sat down against a wall facing the canal. Shasta yawned loudly, inciting a wider one from me. My canine curled up by my feet, chin on paws, and stared fixedly at the dark, silver-lined water. I followed his gaze and in only a few moments, I was fast asleep.

"I saw her! She was sleeping a few alleys down, in front of the canal!"

I woke with a start, hearing angered, urgent voices. Slowly, I pushed myself upright and listened intently, trying to make out who was speaking.

"Show me, now!" another voice commanded.

"Just another street over, I promise you!"

"It better be! Last time it was nothing but a few garbage cans and a rat!"

A curse passed my lips and I jumped up, nearly tripping over Shasta. His teeth were bared and hackles raised, a low growl rumbling from his small, bony frame. After a few slips and slides on the slick street, I began running. Shasta followed after a moment's hesitation.

I could still hear the men shouting—their voices, already loud, had risen in anger as they found my empty patch of wall.

"Hey! You! Stop!"

They'd seen me.

I snatched my hat just in time to keep it from flying off as I tripped coming around a corner. I fell hard on my right knee, but had no time to waste. I was up and running in a heartbeat, trying to put as much distance as I could between those men and I. Even with my head start and no-time-for-pain attitude, the men were catching up quickly. They hadn't caught me already because of my superior knowledge of the alleyways…but how long I would have the energy to use that knowledge was uncertain.

Finally, their voices faded into silence, and I let myself gulp down some stinging air.

"One last alley and we'll rest," I panted, already slowing. I jumped over a garbage can and slid into an alley—

--just as a figure clothed in the darkest night ran in front of me. I had no time to move out of the way, and we crashed.

The last thing I saw before my head smashed into the street was a mask with a nose like a bird of prey.

Rachel's eyes narrowed in concentration as she re-read her story. She nodded to herself, a goofy grin breaking out on her face. 'This is definitely the best yet.'

Glancing at the clock, she yawned and kneaded her eyes with her palms. "Eleven thirty? Dang." How time flies when you're having fun, indeed. Forgetting to change into her pajamas, she stood and crossed to her bed, flopping down beside her dog. She was asleep in seconds.

Shasta placed his head on her stomach and growled softly. His gaze, filled with mistrust, was locked firmly on the computer. All was not right, and he knew it.

The computer hummed.

Rachel moaned softly, sitting up and yawning widely. "Wazzat?" She muttered to herself.

"I saw her! She was sleeping a few alleys down, in front of the canal!"

"Huh?" Rachel blinked and stood up, looking around her. Shasta was dirty and wet, growling and baring his teeth in the direction the voice had come from. "Shasta, what's—" Rae stopped herself, and then lifted a hand to her head. A hat…? "Oh."

Dang.

"Show me, now!" a second voice commanded.

"Just another street over, I promise you!"

"It better be! Last time it was nothing but a few garbage cans and a rat!"

Rachel began running; it was hard, what with it being wet and her still being half asleep. Shasta followed after a few heartbeats, easily keeping up with her stumbling pace.

"Hey! You! Stop!"

Rae didn't bother with the hat, but couldn't avoid tripping over a pile of boxes as she turned a corner. She fell hard on both knees and cried out in pain, struggling to stand on her suddenly wobbly legs. "Come on," she moaned to herself, and then limped off. Soon, though, her knees were numb with cold and she was running faster. Miraculously, she knew where she was going—for some strange reason, there was a map of alleys in her head. Not that she had actually ever even seen Venice before…

Then again, she'd never gone into a story, either.

After an eternity, the voices of her pursuers faded away. She didn't let herself calm down, instead choosing to keep running. Her heart pounded in her chest, her lungs ached because of her asthma, and tears blurred her vision. She barely managed to jump over a garbage can before remembering what happened next. She had a split second to brace herself before she collided with the black-clothed boy. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs, and Rachel heard two identical cracks just as her head hit the street.

Darkness swept upon her, but imprinted in her mind was the ominous mask, with the strange beak like a bird of prey's.

A pair of eyes fluttered open, then closed again as a pounding headache leapt upon her. She blinked away tears of pain as she slowly pushed herself into a slouched sitting position. It took a few moments, but slowly the night's events came back to her.

"You're awake!" a voice exclaimed.

Ow. Loud, she thought to herself through the sudden pounding in her head.

Shasta shot up, placing himself in front of Rachel and crouching, ready to attack the boy that had just made to move closer to her. The canine snarled viciously as the teenager stood.

"Shasta, it's alright," Rachel said quickly. The dog turned to look at her, then seemed to shrug, relax, and decide to sit down in a puddle.

Rachel turned her gaze back to the boy and immediately recognized him as Scipio Massimo, Thief Lord. His dark hair was tied back in a short ponytail, and his eyes were dark behind his mask. He smiled; pearly teeth gleamed at her from his shadowy face.

"Sorry about him," she said softly, not daring to raise her voice lest she cause her already pounding head to split in agony. "He's a bit overprotective."

"He has good reason to protect you, Cara," Scipio said, also lowering his voice, and crouched down to be on eye-level with her. "You're so beautiful, I'm surprised the paparazzi isn't chasing after you right now. Or maybe, that was why you were running?"

Her mind was slow from the sleep and her hangover-esque headache, and her bogged thoughts caught on that Italian word, Cara. It meant 'sweetheart' or 'my dear', right...? She blushed, recognizing the blatant flirting. "No, that's not why I was running," she replied shyly.

"So, Cara," he continued, breezing past her train of thought. "What's your real name?"

She sighed. Real name, or pen name, should she tell him either? "Rachel. Or Rae. Melantha, if you really want. You?"

He was silent for a moment, taking his own sweet time—as if he were a king. Or a lord. "Melantha… That means dark flower, correct? It fits. You're pretty as a flower, and certainly dark." He gestured appreciatively at her clothes.

"Er… Thanks?"

"Your parents named you perfectly. By the way…where are they?"

"Can you stop flirting with me?"

"Who says I'm flirting with you, Cara?" He smirked infuriatingly and rested his chin on his palm. "Now, answer my question: Where are your parents?"

"How's about you answer mine?"

"Which one?"

She scowled and glared up at him. "Can you stop pretending to be such a prig and stay on one line of questioning at a time!" she snapped. "And did you ever consider that I've told you my name but you haven't told me yours?" The fact that she actually knew it didn't matter to her at the moment.

His smile was possibly even more mocking than before, as he cocked his head to the side. His eyes were gentle, amused, teasing. "Ah yes, that one," he drawled. "Scipio, the Thief Lord, at your service. Now, if you're pleased, will you be so kind as to answer my question, Cara?"

Rae sighed and looked up at the moon. For a split second, she considered telling him the truth, then decided against it. "I'm an orphan."

He was silent. His dark head, previously tilted in an leisurely way, was now alert, his eyes wary. "Well then," he said simply.

She waited. When he didn't continue, she rolled her eyes. "Well what?"

"Well, would you like a place to stay?"

Rae raised an eyebrow at him, as it was her turn to be amused. "And why should I trust you? What could you, a thief, be able to do for me?" she asked dryly.

"A lot, actually." He glanced at her, and their gazes locked, hers testing and his probing. "A roof over your head, food in your stomach, warmth... Possibly a life, if you care for it..." He shrugged. "It's an offer you can't refuse, girl. What do you say? Come with me?"

"Um… Sure, why not?"

The thin teen held out a pale, elegant hand, standing up. She took it and he pulled her up, catching her as she stumbled. She hissed through her teeth, putting a hand to her spinning head. "Are you alright?" he asked her gently, and touched her hand.

She ignored him, and the heat that his touch sent shooting up her arm. "Are we going or not?" she snapped, and took a step away from him. Shasta followed her as she took another step towards the mouth of the alley. When Scipio didn't follow her, she looked at him over her shoulder."Well?"

Scipio gave her a long, calculating gaze before shrugging and walking past her. "Follow me," he said simply.

She snorted. "About time," she muttered, and fell silent.

Neither pursued conversation until, a few streets down, Scipio suddenly grew agitated and spun around. "You wouldn't mind not telling anyone about the flirting, would you?" he asked hesitantly.

"And die of embarrassment?" she scoffed. "No, I won't tell…" She smiled slightly, and drew her finger across his lips. "My lips are sealed," she said, and then ran ahead, blushing and giggling like mad. "God, Shasta, that was so--!" She laughed gaily and twirled through a puddle.

I wouldn't give up yet, if I were you, Dork Lord, she thought giddily as she caught the stupified boy watching her every move.