Prologue
The woman ran down the hall as fast as she could. Every warning bell in her mind was going off. She looked over her shoulder as she ran, tripping over her extremely tall heels and white cape. Her white-blonde hair streamed behind her as she slid around a corner, her blue eyes wide with fear. She stopped at a dead end, looked behind her. He was getting closer. She phased, punching the wall, and phased back, jumping through the hole and into the outside world, shoving the gate open. Her breath made clouds in the freezing air and her mostly clad body was shuddering, more from fear then cold, but she couldn't find him. She stretched her mind out, looking for him, and found absolutely nothing. She couldn't sense him! Why couldn't she sense him? She took a few steps back, then spun around to run. Powerful hands gripped her shoulders so hard that they were bruising. She looked into his face, breathing hard, her hair falling over her face.
"What do you want from me!" She screamed.
He smiled, his fangs gleaming. "You're going to do a favor for me, White Queen," he growled. "Or else you'll be shattered, one way or another."
She breathed shakily. "Get away from me," she said. She started to phase, and the man threw her down on the ground. She looked up, her wrist pounding. "You pathetic man!" She spat. He reached for her again, before something almost went through his chest. But then he was caught in the chest and he growled, running away.
She screamed, falling back. Her heart pumped, and she looked up at her savior. This was a man, one quite like her attacker. He was shorter, and muscular. He was smoking a cigar, and his combat boots had blood splattered on them. "Who are you?" She asked.
"The hired help," the man smiled.