Sky Ghosts: Initiation (Sky Ghosts #1)

Prologue

Dave looked over the dark street as he stepped out of the bar. A single car rushed by, and an old drunk sat by the wall, clutching a piece of cardboard with shaking hands. Dave watched him for a minute, debating whether he should call it a night, as uneventful as it was, or head someplace else.

Who was he kidding. He was in no mood for bars and clubs full of strangers—tonight, anyway.

A roll of bills fell out of his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Dave snatched it off the ground, holding it out for the old man. "Buy some food, buddy. Not alcohol—food."

The drunk's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you," he mumbled, staring at the bills. "Thank you!" He shoved the money into his pocket, hobbled up to his feet, and hurried away as if someone were chasing him.

Dave watched the man disappear around a corner, shaking his head. He dialed his driver's number, gazing at the road.

"Hello?" his ears registered the voice, but his attention was captured by something else.

Something fell from a tall building at the intersection, just a flicker of movement. From his spot a hundred yards away, he couldn't tell what it was. After a few seconds, his curiosity won, so he hung up and crossed the road, heading toward the building.

The night was turning brisk; hands in pockets, he walked against the rising wind, feeling the rain close and inevitable. The wall to his left ended suddenly, swallowed up by the darkness.

Dave halted, looking around in confusion. Had he imagined the falling object? Had it been some kind of play of light? Because there was nothing at the building's foot, only thick shadows, seeming alive, moving...

He jerked back when something did move in the dark.

Hidden behind the corner, he watched someone steal through the dark, black on black, almost invisible. The only thing that stood out was a long, gleaming object in their hand. Dave waited, peering into the night until his eyes began to sting, and not in vain. Just a couple of minutes later, the wind brought the sound of male voices, faint at first but getting louder with every second.

One more minute, and he could make out the words—two men were speaking in hushed, rumbling voices, their silhouettes outlined by a streetlamp.

"...so she's not getting away this time," one of them said.

"And he's going to keep working with you?" another man asked.

"He said so, but even if he doesn't—" He broke off with a gasp when the person in black suddenly appeared right in front of him.

Now, Dave could see that the gleaming object was a sword, its hilt long and black, its point denting the man's throat. A katana, Dave realized.

And the slim figure holding it could only be a girl.

"Easy..." the other man said, holding up a hand. "We weren't following you. There's no reason for a—"

"Shut up," the girl ordered, her voice low. A mask concealed the lower half of her face, and her long hair was as black as her leathers. "Draw your sword," she said to the man on the other end of her blade.

"What?" He shifted backward ever so slightly, and the long sword pressed harder into his neck.

"You think you can lie to me and walk away without consequences? A friend of mine nearly got killed tonight because of you. No more games," she said, and waved at the man's belt. Only now did Dave notice a sword there and wondered what the hell was going on. "Draw your sword."