SHADE

CHAPTER ONE

My dearest,

The first thing you ever said to me was "no." Do you remember? You were at this open market in Brooklyn Heights, holding this wicker basket on your arm. You were dressed for the weather, in a frothy summer dress that looked lovely, but you were struggling with the amount of food in the basket.

Do you remember how I came over, ever the diplomat, and asked if you needed any help? Me, with my papes and my dirty street clothes. No wonder you gave me a once over and responded with a very fierce "no." I would've done the same thing.

Funny thing is, I believe that is exactly what attracted me to you in the first place.

Shade's Point of View

"You know, little girl, I'm getting very tired of your sassy little mouth," he told me, breathing alcohol into my nostrils as he held my neck against the wall.

"I'm not afraid of you," I choked out. "Any of you."

My father's friends all chuckled behind him at my confidence. However, nobody would've guessed that I was terrified inside. I hated the way they all leered at me. Just because I seemed helpless now didn't mean I was actually helpless.

My father tightened his grip on my neck and I hissed as he restricted more air from my wind pipe. I looked down, seeing my father's pistol hanging in its place at his hip. All in the same moment, I kicked my father and grabbed his pistol.

He flew backwards and I cocked the hammer, pointing the weapon around at his friends. "I'm going to leave now, and no one is going to follow me," I said, pointing it around at them again before I returned the barrel at my father.

He grinned up at me, not even looking shaken. He could've kicked my feet out from under me but he didn't. "What are you going to do, little girl? Shoot me? I'm the only thing standing between you and at least twenty men. I'm the only reason you haven't been ravaged by them all. You can't kill me, little Shade."

I faltered a little, tears pricking my eyes. I sagged completely, then, and the gun clattered to the ground. I turned and ran out of the warehouse as fast as I could, not giving anyone time to come after me. I wound down alleyways and around corners, going as fast as my legs would take me.

If I got lost myself, then it would be harder for any of my father's friends to find me, too. I hoped.

After a while of running, I stopped short, stuffed my hands in my pockets and ducked into a bookstore I knew very well.

Harry Sweeney, the bookstore owner, tipped his hat at me from behind his counter. "Ah, my Shade, back for yer selections, are ya?"

I nodded and then smiled as he produced a small stack of books, wrapped up like school books with a strap I could use to carry them over my shoulder. I dug into my pocket, counting out the coins on the counter until I had the right amount.

"Thanks again, Harry. You're swell," I told him, taking my books and ducking back out of the shop. I slung them over my shoulder, walking along the busy Brooklyn street, blending right in with everyone.

However, apparently not enough blending, since I was then yanked into an alley nearby and came face to face with four guys I didn't know who were twice my size.

First thoughts? Well, just great.

One of them grabbed the books I was carrying and tossed them away. I sighed and then flinched as the same guy shoved me against the wall. How ironic was it that when you are abused by a family member, all the abusive people within five miles find you?

"I was planning on reading those, you know," I said casually, looking almost forlornly at the scattered novels in the alley away from us.

"I really don't think you'll be needing those, little dear," the man holding me said.

"Such a cute little thing, isn't she?"

"Oh, come on. Let me get a shot at her!"

The guy holding me scowled at all of them. "You'll all get a turn. After I've had my–"

Too bad he didn't get to finish that sentence. I'd sunk my foot right between his legs. His grip on my elbows slackened only slightly and I took this very opportune time to cut and run like hell.

Back to running. I didn't get very far this time, because he was chasing me down. He was faster than I, so he caught up to me quickly, gathering me around the waist and pulling me tightly against his chest. I yelped and then wriggled against him, gritting my teeth.

"Get off me," I told him through my teeth.

People who were inclined to look in our direction gave the boy holding me odd looks. He let my waist go in favor of holding my elbows, pulling them back slightly, inflicting some pain and reminding me who had the upper hand.

"Just something playful my girl and I do," he smoothly explained to those looking on curiously. "Isn't that right, love?"

"Oh, you are a nasty piece of work," I hissed back. "Now get the hell off me, you ass!"

"No, I don't think I will, kitten. Now, if you'd be so kind as to come with me back to my little alley, we won't have any problems," he whispered against my ear, hauling me around to shove me back around the corner and back to 'his alley'.

"I believe my lady said to get off of her," a new voice said from behind us.

The boy holding me wheeled back around, dragging me along with him, and we both stared at a very determined-looking newsboy with red suspenders and a faux-gold tipped cane. He had his arms folded across his chest and was staring impassively at the boy whose hands tightened on my arms, probably having recognized this boy who stood before us.

...Wait a hot second. His lady? Honestly?

"Conlon?" The boy holding me sounded nervous.

"Indeed. Can you release my Shade now? She doesn't look too happy," the newsboy said oh so casually.

The boy holding me recoiled instantly. I rolled my shoulders around in discomfort and then was once again yanked forward, this time by the newsboy, so he could stand in front of me. I'm sorry. Did it look as if I needed protection?

"You won't tell my boss about this, will you, Spot?" the boy who had been holding me asked, looking incredibly frightened.

The newsboy, or Spot I supposed, pulled out a slingshot. I snorted. Really?

"You have two seconds to remove yourself from my shooting range," Spot said casually.

"But, Spot–" the boy sputtered.

"One..." Spot loaded what looked to be a marble and took aim.

The boy took the hint and bolted down the street, though Spot let the marble fly anyways. It hit him square in the back of the head, causing the boy to jump in pain and run faster until he had disappeared down the block.

The newsboy turned around and pocketed his slingshot, looking concerned all of a sudden. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I blinked and then glared at him. "What's your angle?" I demanded.

"Excuse me?" He glared right back at me, the sweetness gone.

"Newsboys, especially Brooklyn newsboys, do not just walk around handing out favors," I said and then gave his shoulders a shove in my annoyance. "Now, what's your angle?"

"Maybe I just wanted to help," he said, getting in my face a little.

"I didn't need your help!" I hissed. "I was doing fine on my own. I had everything under control."

"Right. That's why he was about to drag you back into that alley with his stupid thug friends," he said, rolling his eyes. "I think a 'thank you' is in order here. I could've let you get raped, but I didn't, did I?"

I blinked and then stood a little straighter. "Wait a second. You're the newsboy who tried helping me the other day, aren't you?"

"Ah, so little Shade has a memory!" he said, clearly mocking me.

I glared at him again. "And how do you know my name? Have you been following me around or something? Shall I alert the constable?"

The infuriating newsboy rolled his eyes at me. "Come off it, Shade. Don't flatter yourself."

I frowned. "Do I know you, then?"

"No, Shade. You don't know me. But I know you." He smiled at me. "I knew your brother."

Realization dawned on me, then. "Do you know where Caleb is? He ran away two months ago and..." I stopped short, frowning.

"I don't know where he is, Shade," the newsboy told me. "But he's safe. I promise you that."

I nodded slowly, returning to glaring at him because it was just better that way. "Swell. Now, stay away from me."

Attempting a dramatic exit like the heroines in my harlequin novels, I knocked past him, head held high as I strutted down the sidewalk. However, I could feel myself growing weak. The fear and the stress of my current situation – first with my father and his friends and then with the thugs I'd met in the alley – were all catching up to me at the same time. Now that I was safe, my body decided to let go.

My vision clouded with bright spots and then, I saw nothing.

Right. So. I shouldn't be writing this, or posting this, really. I have Sick of Shadows to update, but the muse wouldn't shut up, so here it is. Been wanting to get back to writing the Spotty pants. I've missed writing him since my Spot and Angel trilogy a little while ago. :)

Hope you've enjoyed. Love me with a review? :)

CTB!

xx Wicked