CHAPTER 1 – Marked

Kaden Nasr bent his head and narrowed his eyes against the harsh wind that whipped through the streets. Born in Brazil, he had never gotten used to the cold. He turned up the collar of his coat as trash skittered across the sidewalk. The chilly air spoke of a fast-approaching winter. Where he came from, there was a dry season and a rainy season, and both were hot. He had never known any other place. It was difficult to adjust.

Kaden was seventeen years old, and this was his first assignment, his first time away from his family in the mundane world. It wasn't quite how he expected it to be, but then again, he wasn't sure what he had expected.

Canada was a beautiful country, he had been told, with breathtaking wilderness. But all he'd seen of it was the bustling city of downtown Toronto, where the Institute was located. And even of that, he had not seen much.

It was nearly three a.m. as he made his way through the shadows between the flickering streetlamps. He soundlessly descended the stairs to the subway, which was now closed. Earlier his Sensor had picked up traces of demon energies in the tunnels and now that no one was around, he moved in to investigate.

His night vision kicked in, and he immediately saw that the lock had been carefully picked. He frowned, reaching out to touch it. The lock showed no outward signs of damage, so whoever opened it knew what they were doing.

Alert, Kaden slipped inside.

He pulled his witchlight out of his pocket. Rays of light illuminated his surroundings as he closed his fingers around the stone. He kept a sharp eye out, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The air was still and silent, as was his Sensor. There was no sign of the demons he had been expecting to encounter, or anyone else, for that matter.

Everything was as you would think an empty subway station should be. But Kaden continued forward, undeterred, the thought of the picked lock playing on his mind.

He stepped up to the edge of the platform, peering into the darkness of the tunnel extending on either side of him where the witchlight could not reach. He was about to turn around when a sound caught his ear.

The noise was a faint echo from far down the tunnel on the left. It was impossible to discern what was making the sound. His Sensor registered nothing. Still, he pulled a weapon from inside his coat, naming it quietly in the dark.

"Nakir."

The angel blade burst to life with a flare of light. Leaping down onto the tracks, he tucked his witchlight rune-stone away and moved forward with the soundless grace of a jungle cat.

He could see his even breaths in front of him, like puffs of smoke. It was frigid in the tunnel, the air only seeming to get colder as he continued. His fingers felt stiff around the hilt of his seraph blade, which shone like glowing ice.

The noise grew louder, and it was now easy to recognize the sound of human voices. They became more distinct as he neared a bend in the tunnel. Kaden could hear people talking, and more people shouting over them. There was also a strange scuffling sound almost being drowned out, with intermittent grunts and thuds. He slowed and cautiously turned the corner. A glamour kept him hidden as he took in the sight before him.

Flickering orange light bounced off the dirty walls, coming from a bonfire roaring in an old rusted metal barrel. The air was thick and warm now, smelling of smoke and sweat and grime. There was a mass of people ranging in age, almost all of them looking like they came off the streets. They were rowdy, pushing and shoving as they stood in a rough circle, obviously split into two sides. Kaden advanced, and through a break in the crowd he saw what they were watching.

A fight raged in the center, over the tracks. It was violent and rough, though it was clear that the girl was more skilled, trained. Kaden watched as the boy staggered back, a hand over his face as blood gushed from his nose and soaked his filthy t-shirt, spattering across the ground. Cracking it back into place, he lunged at the girl with his mouth twisted in a snarl of fury.

Blood was leaking from a cut above her eyebrow, dripping down the side of her face. She didn't seem to notice this in the least, and swiftly counter-attacked even as the boy brought them both to the ground. There was a vicious, focused light in her eyes. She quickly gained the upper hand, straddling the boy as she rained punches down on his chest, face, and neck. The two dog tags hanging from a chain on her neck swung wildly, glinting the firelight. The whole scene was painted in the hellish glow of the fire.

But something else held Kaden's attention.

The girl was wearing baggy sweatpants and a tank top, and her bare arms were encircled with Marks, like licks of black fire. They curled around her collarbone, disappearing under her clothes. Kaden knew them well, for they were the same Marks that were burned onto his own skin, Marks that clearly identified their kind.

She was a Shadowhunter.

Kaden watched as the boy went limp underneath her, arms falling away from where they had struggled to protect his face. He was clearly unconscious, and didn't move as she stood, spitting on the ground at his feet. The two sides of the crowd surged forward. Money was exchanged amid shouting, small scuffles breaking out and quickly resolving themselves before getting serious.

Kaden watched her closely as the girl accepted obvious praise from her group, as well as pocketing the money discreetly slipped into her hand. She nodded to a few people and spoke a few words to others. Someone handed her a sweater and she took it, putting it on over her clothes, which were streaked with dirt and blood. Zipping it up and pulling up the hood, she silently slipped away as several packs of beer were distributed.

Kaden had no idea what he had walked in on. A gang war? Entertainment for the street urchins? And while he had hopelessly stopped trying to figure out why mundanes did the things they did, he wondered: why was this Shadowhunter participating?

He hastily followed her quiet steps down the tunnel, shoving his blade through his belt. She moved fast. He had no idea if his glamour worked against her, so he was cautious not to be seen as she climbed up onto the platform and slipped out the door of the subway.

He trailed her all the way to an old garage at the edge of the city. The sign above read Vic's Mechanics. It was almost six o'clock in the morning now, and the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale glow over the city from the east, where the polluted water from Lake Ontario lapped against the docks nearby. He could hear the soft, distant cry of seagulls as they woke and smelled the faint scent of lake water in the air as he watched her enter quietly through the side door of the building.

He hesitated, and after a moment's thought, he decided he would return.

Victoria Romano ached all over. Despite her victory, she had still taken a beating.

As she quietly made her way out of the subway and through the streets of downtown Toronto, she listened carefully to the nearly-silent footsteps trailing behind her. Her hand tightened around the money she had won tonight at the underground fight in the tunnels. Usually if someone followed her home, it meant they had a problem with her win, and had taken it upon themselves to get their money back.

She sighed, crossing the street to take the long way home. Her chest tightened. Jacob. He was waiting for her, depending on her for the money they needed to pay the rent and buy food and keep him in school. He was thirteen years old now, a growing boy. He had been eleven when she had picked up during her true street days, an orphan that had become like a brother to her. She used to curse herself for getting attached – he was just another mouth to feed – but now she couldn't imagine life without him. She had become fiercely protective of him.

The footsteps did not falter behind her, nor did they gain on her. It was confusing. Was this person going to confront her? She just wanted to go home. She had left her stele behind and desperately needed an iratze, a healing rune.

Eventually Victoria gave up trying to lose the person following her and headed straight home. She walked into the back room of the garage just as the sun was coming up. She went straight for the desk where she hid her knives. She tucked a wickedly sharp dagger in her sweater and glanced in the room to her left out of the corner of her eye, without turning her head. Whoever had followed her could be watching, and she didn't want Jacob in danger. Thankfully, she could see him sprawled out across the small bed, fast asleep.

She was dead tired but did not hesitate to turn and walk back out of the building. She looked down the street just in time to see a dark figure turn away and melt back into the shadows. She stood cautiously, watching vigilantly, but the person did not return.