Anastasia of the Crows

CHAPTER ONE.

CHAPTER ONE: What Makes a Monster?

JUDE'S POV

Two more streets. I need to make it down two more streets, and then I'll be in front of Maggie's shop--and I'll be safe. Mags would never out me for anything, even though I know loyalty to be a fictitious thing--I trust her. Even though it's pointless, I reach beneath my shirt, letting my fingers brush against the gold chain of my necklace; it's a habit, a silent promise, a secret prayer.

As I round the corner, I indulge, allowing my footsteps to be loud in order to allow me extra speed. If I get caught it's over, but I have a talent at evading absolutely everything. I duck thoughtlessly, rounding the familiar path--avoiding bumping into people out of fear more than anything else. The Barrel isn't exactly a damage control zone--and I'm not exactly coordinated.

I turn sharply, trying to angle myself away from the crowds. A few more storefronts and I'll be safe. A few more long seconds, a few more--

The collision is brash and ungraceful, like everything else about me. "Sorry!" My voice is genuine, I blink twice, ready to run again, gripping my knapsack tightly. "An accident--I swear." I turn on my heels at hyperspeed, ready to take off again, but a dull pain in my wrist stalls me before I'm pushed into a wall so harshly I'm surprised I can still breathe.

Of course I ran into the wrong person. It seems that that's my other talent. I blink twice, trying to remain calm--I can only be persuasive when I am calm. I'll study him--calmness scares people here. He's taller than me, dark hair, dark eyes, pale--angry. Intimidating. Clearly important around here.

Ah. I look down at his dark clothing, matching the black leather glove holding me in place. His other hand rests on a cane. I wonder how much damage he could inflict with that. Calm. Calmness is my weapon.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? Or knock anything o--"

"Don't talk." I shut my mouth quickly, frowning. "You're running from someone." It's not a question. "What did you steal?"

"Steal? I--"

"Participators in petty crime are getting worse and worse each year. The entire bread of them are clumsy and distracting." He scoffs this, more to himself than me.

I don't think I'm a 'petty crime' person. I don't think I'm bad at what I do, either. His tone drips with a pride that I cannot tolerate and at the same time envy. "I wouldn't call it 'petty crime'."

He turns his head, looking up again. His eye contact is meant to startle me, but I won't let it--I stare at him with as much confidence as a girl pinned against a wall can. My eyes don't waver even when I register something more behind his gaze. He drops his arm sharply, but I'm not stupid enough to assume taking off again won't aggravate him.

"What would you call it?" There's a slight shake of his head as he says that.

I shrug, squeezing my bag to me. "Survival, I guess--but not for me."

"Not for you?"

I wrinkle my nose, not wanting to explain something so personal to a stranger. "Not for me, mainly at least."

"Jude!" I snap my head to the side, glad for the excuse to break eye contact. "Jude!"

Great. Now I'm embarrassed in front of this stranger. At least Mags is here. I can see her from the distance, her long white hair pinned out of her face with Canarian pins. "Right here, Mags!"

Her head turns to me, the relief behind her eyes is short lived once she notices the scary man blocking me. "Nalia and Luca said you were getting in trouble again."