Chapter 1 A Thief In Velmora
Ira’s POV
"He kills his enemies on sight." An old masculine voice breaks through the open school at the side of the road. "No mercy," he adds, my supernatural hearing easily picking out his words.
"Who's he?" A kid asks.
"Commander Ruel, he's the Alpha King's deadliest weapon.”
My eyes settle on the old man, watching how the gentle breeze toys with his beards which surprisingly are as long as my shoulder-length hair.
Holding up the puppet in his hands, he smiles at the children in front of him. But he doesn't get another word out before the same kid speaks again.
“Then why did the Alpha King keep him in the outskirt of the pack?” he asks, his small hand clutching the man's knee.
“That’s because he trusts no one else to wipe out the strays,” I hear the man say as I walk closer towards them.
A girl frowns. “But not every stray is a bad person. Don't you think the Alpha King is just evil?”
Immediately all the adults around freeze up, their eyes widening at the kid. The girl shifts closer to the old man, catching the subtle change in the atmosphere.
“Yes!” an oblivious child continues, sounding bold. “And Commander Ruel. They are bad werewolves. The world would be better if everyone just lived in peace. Mama said it's bad to hurt someone. And... I’ve never been hurt by a vampire or a sempyr…”
The old man slams a hand over the boy's mouth. “Alright, alright pups. Let's not speak ill of the Alpha King or his warriors, okay?”
“Sempyrs are extinct,” he mutters firmly, his eyes drifting to me as I pass by.
For a second, it feels like he's staring straight through my black hood, past my pale skin, into what I really am.
A cheap-ass thief who hasn't been successful all day.
“The Alpha King killed them all a decade ago.” His words fade into the market noise, as I walk on.
Sweat runs down my neck, sliding along my back as I move through the noisy market. My hands are damp from nerves getting to me.
Heck! Today feels cursed.
Perhaps it's because a noble werewolf died, but I've been so unlucky.
Two empty purses, one filled with nothing but lip gloss and the other with a market list.
Hell, I can already picture Felisha’s face if I return empty… her eyes will grow darker, her voice heavy with hate as she barks about how the kids won't eat till I've made myself useful.
“Sweet apple pies, straight from the pack house!” a chubby woman yells, balancing a full basket on her hip.
The smell makes my stomach growl in hunger. It's a sweet punishment-- to have food right under my nose and still be unable to get a taste.
I pull my hood lower, making sure it hides most of my face and the bit of white hair that has grown afresh from my scalp as I push through sweating bodies.
It's barely visible under the red dye I applied months ago but I'm not willing to risk it.
While making a mental note to beg Felisha for more hair-dye, the mix of perfume and sweat claws at my throat, but I ignore it as my strained eyes sweep over the sea of people.
Dear goddess, all I need is someone careless, distracted… rich.
The last is harder to find in these parts but one can still hope.
Deeper into the market, people press around me. I let the natural force of their mindless push carry me.
The shouts, the sweat, the glares– none of it matters.
First rule of my job? Blend in. Be invincible.
With my torn cloak and worn out slippers, that's not hard to do since no one looks twice at the poor ones.
My shoulders tense as I spot my next target.
She's barely older than me. Her soft hands squeeze her pink silk dress like it's her first time here. I lift my eyes, briefly checking out the elegant trinkets she's so captivated by.
Only people with money waste time on such. The moment I'm close enough, my hands move before I can chicken out.
It's a slight bump, but it's enough to make her stumble in disgust.
“Ew, watch where you're going filth!” She hisses.
My hand slides into her bag.
“S..sorry,” I whisper quietly, retrieving my hand and fisting the cold coins now sitting in my palm.
She steps aside with a frown as I hurry off, wondering if she'll notice.
A quick glance at the coins in my hand tells me I've only gotten one pan.
“Two more to go and I can secure food for us today.” I murmur to myself as I melt back into the crowd.
The loud shouts of two angry men pull my attention to a more open part of the market. They look like a group of royal werewolves surrounded by buckets of beer.
What are they doing in Velmora?
Their kind only brings trouble… nothing else.
Still I head towards them, my eyes fixed on a fat man in a red expensive coat with golden buttons.
He must be rich… too rich. Otherwise, why would he leave his purse hanging on his belt?
My heart pounds as I slip through them, using their noise to my advantage. My target glares at his opponent, his face red with anger but I don't bother to listen to whatever they're saying, my eyes fixed on the heavy coin purse dangling at his waist.
Please be worth it.
With a deep yet shaky breath, my hand slips free from my cloak.
Here goes nothing.
His opponent smashes one of the drinks on the floor and my target swings. I pretend to stumble, my hands brushing his side.
With lightning speed my long pale fingers work the knot loose. And under a second the purse drops into my palm.
In a heartbeat, I’m gone and I don’t dare look back.
My pulse races, but I keep my steps steady as I melt into the market again. The purse is so heavy in my cloak, I know I've stolen a huge sum.
If I'm caught there's no way they'll let me go unharmed. Finally I look back. My breath comes out shaky but relief floods me when I see that no one's following me.
Certain what I have is more than enough, I start heading towards the exit.
Maybe if I can get us some bread…
A bread stall catches my eye. My stomach grumbles as I hurry to it.
The trader argues about the price with an adamant customer while I quietly tuck a loaf, and another, under my cloak.
This will do. Even if Felisha refuses to feed us today, we'll have something to eat.
I give the seller the one pan I'd stolen earlier. It's more than enough so I wait for my balance.
“Thanks,” I mutter the moment she hands it over.
I've barely stepped away from the stall when a loud voice rings out.
“HEY! THIEF!”
My stomach drops as I spot the red-coat man running with his pack of royal werewolves towards me.