Prologue
The full moon shone with a dull light behind the thick ashy grey clouds, though it was just enough to guide two young thieves through the night.
The girls sprinted, stumbling, down the ice-covered sidewalks of downtown New York. Running away from the blinding lights and shouting cries of the police, in their cruisers, not giving up the chase.
The blonde girl, who was slightly behind her accomplice, staggered, and slipped on the frozen ground, her coiled locks of hair flying out behind her. As she landed, she bit her lip, which was blue from the December cold, to keep from shrieking in pain. Her left leg lay sprawled out to her side at a twisted and awkward angle. She turned her eyes toward it, but quickly looked away. The sight of her busted leg sent a shock of nausea through her.
The other pickpocket skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over her own feet on the frosted concrete street. She turned on her heel and bolted back to help her friend.
As she pulled the fallen girl to her unsteady feet, her golden eyes were flooded with a look of hysteria; the officers were closing the space between them!
The two teenage girls raced through downtown, their long, unkempt hair sailing behind them, a mix of dark, coffee brown and flaxen blonde hair.
The police continued to pursue the bandits, but soon lost their trail near an old crumbling warehouse.
Once all signs of the law had vanished, the girls ducked out of their hiding place, behind a large molding crate, with the word "FRAGILE" stamped on in fading black ink, and into the warehouse, which was one of their many safe houses around the state, since neither of them had homes. They crept around to the back exit of the room and settled themselves in between several crumbling crates. Covered them as best they could with all the sheets of fabric they could find.
The sky darkened, the clouds piling up around the moon, completely concealing the unseen, unheard figures lurking near the ancient warehouse.