Saint

by Inaecis

Saint, a girl hero with the ability to "jump" short distances, attempts to unravel the actions of a rival, and finds herself dragged into a dangerous web of crime.

Saint

By Inaecis

I bent down to examine the footprints in the newly fallen snow, the night hiding many of the details from me. They were familiar—but of course they were familiar, the scene reeked of his presence. A biotech company, though not on Wolf's usual itinerary for a heist, had reported a suspicious figure on the premises, and consequently both guards on night duty had been found unconscious at their posts. Luckily Wolf didn't arbitrarily kill, or I would have a much bigger problem on my hands. The daggers that he used were unique, and the trademark cuts he left on the torso and neck of his victims gave him away. Not that he was afraid of law enforcement knowing which crimes were his. He took pride in having eluded them for the past year, and he took every chance he could to rub it in someone's face.

But I couldn't allow him to escape me. At the first news of the crime I had picked up my backpack and left directly from the library, my uniform hidden in the false bottom of my bag. The weight of my Calculus textbook was a small annoyance that I ignored as I contemplated the snow at my feet.

The tracks were fresh, leading into the air vents on the roof of the twelve-story Manchem Corporation building. I had explored them before, as I had mostly every building in Emon City, thinking it smarter to have memorized every aspect of every building in the city. It had certainly helped me in the past. The tracks were fresh, that was clear enough, and there were none leading out of the building. Wolf was still here.

But there was something that seemed too convenient about the circumstances. It was rare that I caught Wolf off-guard.

A soft footstep surprised me and I disappeared in the blink of an eye, reappearing where I thought the sound had originated. I had hoped to catch my target before he saw me, and I realize my mistake too late.

Wolf laughed as I materialized right behind of him, exactly as he had foreseen, and whirled, catching me on the side of the head with a blow from the hilt of one of his daggers. My bag went flying, the Calculus book slamming against the air vent. I ignored the pain, throwing out my gloved hands to catch myself. Wolf was still laughing as I sprung back to my feet and delivered a swift kick to his side.

Or would have, if he hadn't seen that coming as well. He caught my foot before it could connect and grinned, shaking his black hair out of his blue-gray eyes. A hard, black mask covered his face from his nose upward, preventing me from attempting any serious attacks to his eyes without breaking my hands. He was about a head taller and he put his height to good use as he loomed over me, looking down the long slender nose of his mask. I would have jumped, transported myself away from him, but his firm grip on my leg meant that he would be taken with me wherever I went. His dagger slipped back inside his sleeve and he grabbed my foot with his other hand, twisting my leg and throwing me across the roof.

I landed in a snow bank, and white fluff exploded outward. My leg hurt from the impact, but I got quickly to my feet, lunging out of the snow, surprising Wolf before he could react. My fist connected with his chin and he reeled, stepping back as I tucked my arms in and punched him in the stomach.

He yelled, a wordless cry, angry because he had lost his composure. He planted his feet and used his strength to wrestle me to the ground. His knife was out again, pressed against my throat, and I stopped moving, knowing what might happen if he "slipped."

We were both breathing heavily, though our fight had only lasted a few seconds. My gaze drifted down his black shirt that seemed out of place in this white landscape, to the pocket of his black jacket. A small disc peeked out, misplaced by his sudden movements.

I stretched my hand towards it, willing it to be in my possession. I felt my head ache as I forced the disc into nothingness, then pulled it back to reality in a different place. As I had hoped, it had reappeared in my hands. My new trick had worked. I looked up at Wolf. He hadn't noticed.

"The Saint," he said, the weight of his knee heavy on my stomach. "You've got to stop following me around like this."

"Maybe you should stop running from the police." I tried to keep my tone even. "Or stealing, or killing inno—"

"Oh come off it," he snarled, leaning in closer. "None of those guards were innocent and you know it. Besides, I only kill people who pick a fight with me, and right about now you are at the top of that list." His knife pressed heavier against my throat and I felt blood trickle down my neck.

His eyes opened wide as he foresaw what I was about to do, and before he could act against it I had lifted my legs and kicked him back over me, off the side of the building.

I cursed as I watched him fall, my hand already reaching for the wall. Why didn't he grab for something? Clearly I had overestimated him. I flung myself from the roof, my arms tucked tight against my body as I struggled to reach him in time. His eyes were wide as he fell not five feet away from me, the distance closing. He had no powers to protect him against this. I stretched for him, ignoring the quickly approaching ground. My hand closed around his ankle and we disappeared, the air popping as it rushed in to fill the space that we had occupied. I jumped to the ground, heedless of where we reappeared, and Wolf slammed into the roof of a car. I landed next to the car, groaning even as I hit the pavement. It was always hard to jump, even by myself. Jumping with another person was just plain stupid. But what were my alternatives? I tried to remind myself of them as I regained my feet, using the car to lift myself up.

I was unable to identify any particular injury; my body hurt all over. Okay, calm down. What was important? I forced my eyes open, my ears focusing on the raised voices of Wolf and the driver of the car.

"What happened?" the driver said, jumping out of his car in time to see Wolf jump out of the imprint he had made on his Lexus. "Hey! Get back here!"

Wolf snarled, his eyes wild and angry. I struggled to stop him as he turned on the driver, his dagger still clasped in his shaking hands. Even after falling from a building and crashing into a car Wolf was ready to kill, which meant that I would have to be ready to stop him. No telling what a cornered animal would do. Too tired to jump, I lunged towards the driver as Wolf struck him. Pain flared across my chest, and I held in the cry that threatened to unleash itself. We hit the ground.

I needed to keep calm, show Wolf I wasn't beaten. If there was one thing Wolf was good at, it was running away. I had landed on the driver in my rush to save him, but it couldn't be helped. I stood upright. Wolf was looking around at the small crowd that had gathered around him. His short untamed hair made him seem even more savage as he drew himself into the darkness. He stole a final glance at me, his eyes, now fearful, seeking out his enemy. I stared right back, mustering all my strength to keep my eyes clear and focused.

Surprisingly enough, Wolf forgot his final quip, and without a sound he turned tail and disappeared. I sighed and felt myself leaning back. I connected with the wall and felt myself sliding down until I had hit the ground. I felt the driver next to me, and I opened my eyes. He looked shocked to see me.

"Saint Michael," he said, addressing me as the newspapers had. They always had the nasty way of taking a good vigilante's name like The Saint and turning it into something more than it was.

I looked down at the driver's chest, where a bright spot of blood was clear on his clean white coat. "You're bleeding," I said.

He looked down at his chest, feeling the spot with his hand as if unsure. "Not me," he said. Looking back at me, I saw realization come slowly to his eyes. I leaned my head back against the brick wall behind me, finally allowing myself to feel the exhaustion that I had been holding off for so long. At least the driver was all right. I couldn't take any more blood on my hands. My head began to slide down, and soon I felt my whole body collapse. I didn't want to do anything to stop it. I barely felt the cold as I slid into a pile of snow.

"Saint Michael," I heard someone call. "Saint!"

The voice wasn't familiar and I ignored it. I fell asleep.

"…So young." I heard someone finish as I woke up. Oh man, I thought as I remembered what had happened. I can't believe I feel asleep. Fear entered my mind as I watched an old man—the driver from hours ago—walk into the room. His had been the voice I heard as I awoke, and now I had time to recognize his white coat. He was a doctor, and that meant… I sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. My hand went to my chest, where a thick bandage covered the cut Wolf had given me. The pain was forceful, but not as overwhelming as it had been before. I looked around, surprised to find that I was not in a hospital as I had expected.

I looked at the doctor, and he returned my gaze, his face serious. I lifted my hand to my eyes, checking to see if my mask was still covering my face.

"I didn't think it would be right to take that off," the doctor said, his voice melding in with the hum of the city night the crept in through the window. His voice was soothing, comforting. Everything about him was calm and unassuming, from his full gray head to his round green eyes, sunken in with age. "I am Doctor Charles McKnight. You are in my apartment, my wife is in the other room, and no one else knows that you are here."

I was surprised with how thorough he was. "Thanks," I said, twisting so that I could put my feet on the ground. Even around this man I felt the need to be able to stand without a moment's notice. "The hospital would have asked too many questions. I'm grateful." My eyes searched the room, already looking for the thick vest that acted as my armor and the rest of my gear.

"Looks like the papers should have been calling you 'Saint Michelle,'" he added, watching me closely for a reaction.

I looked at him with stupid surprise. Of course he had realized. My shirt was off, and it was apparent that I was not the boy hero I pretended to be. I waited, guarded, for his next words.

"I won't tell anyone," he said. "But you should be in school or something. What about your parents?" And it all came flooding out, all the questions he must have been wondering while I had been asleep. Right then, more than anything, I wanted to jump out of there. But I owed it him to hear what he was saying. He had saved my life. When he was done asking his questions, most of which I had no answer for, I nodded and got to my feet, reaching for my clothes.

"Wait," he said. "You are just going to leave? What about your cut? This is insane! You're just a girl!"

I'm 17, a voice in my head argued. It wasn't so young. "What choice do I have?" I returned. It was a stupid question, one with a million replies, but he remained silent, finished with his lecturing. I put on my vest and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My short brown hair was just as wild as Wolf's had been, but my brown eyes were calm. They didn't show the confusion inside, something I was glad of at the moment. A bruise on my left shoulder was just beginning to show its nasty colors, and I touched it gently, my slender fingers reminding me of how weak I was. If only I were stronger. I put my gloves on and covered myself with my jacket, the bandages tight and reassuring under the Kevlar.

"Thanks for the help," I said, bringing the image of home to mind. "I have to go."

"Saint," he said gently, and I waited. "If you ever need a doctor, or anyone, you can come back here. You've stopped a hell of a lot of bad things from happening here—I just don't want you bleeding to death because you are worried about anonymity."

I nodded and then I was gone from there. I jumped, reappearing in my bedroom, unworried about excuses to my father. My mother had left him years ago, before I even knew I could do whatever it was I did. My father worked pretty much all the time, but I had realized a long time ago that it was not so much out of necessity as it was a need to get away from everything that tied him down.

I sighed and looked at the clock. Four hours until school. This truly was insanity. I collapsed on the bed next to my dog, a big black pit-bull. "That's a good girl, Red," I murmured as I laid my head down, not bothering to change my clothes. With my eyes already closing, a thought entered my mind: my bag was still lying on the roof of the biotech company. No matter, it had no identifying information. I ignored the worry and turned over. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep, and by then it was morning.

I was failing Calculus. Calculus.

As if things weren't going badly enough already. The Saint was saving lives and still the media hadn't decided if he was fighting for good, and now I was failing the subject I had excelled in months before. Before the Saint ever appeared on the news.

Maybe it was that I was getting better at finding the criminals, but what worried me is that the criminals seemed to be multiplying as I cut them down, as if in response to my presence. For every two I knocked down, another four caused havoc elsewhere. I couldn't keep up.

And I was failing Calculus.

Gym class had ended, and I followed my classmates, not really paying attention to what I was doing. With all my training on and off the streets, tapping a ball around a court was ridiculous, even with the wound on my chest. I kept the bandages hidden with my clothes, wearing a big sweatshirt throughout the day.

Just as the bell rang for class I stepped into the Calculus room, and I silently berated myself. I had forgotten my textbook. I sat down in a seat in the front row, resolving to find the book after school. The math teacher, Mr. Beck started up immediately, his voice drifting across the room in a monotonous wave. It felt like hours to me as the seconds ticked past. My pen gently hit the spiral of my notebook as I looked out the window, not even trying to listen any more. I'd get caught up tomorrow.

My grip on the pen tightened as I felt more than heard the door slam shut. One look brought my heart rate up. Wolf was standing there, his back against the closed door, now locking it. There was something less fear inspiring about seeing him in broad daylight, but that feeling disappeared as his daggers slid into his hands. Without releasing his weapons, he took a book from the folds of his jacket and threw it against the teacher's desk. My Calculus textbook. Mr. Beck's eyes were wide, and he still had not moved since Wolf had entered.

"This Room 135, period 7," he demanded of the teacher, his weapons low but no less menacing. It was information that had been printed in each textbook in this class, including my own, the one that I had left for Wolf to find. No real hero makes a mistake like that.

Mr. Beck remained motionless, his mouth half open. Confusion entered his eyes.

Wolf was impatient. He lunged from his position by the door to Mr. Beck's throat, his knife pressed tightly against the teacher's neck. I almost betrayed myself right then; my muscles already tensing to stand, but the sound of a chair being slid back made me stop. A boy in the front row, Nick something, had taken a step toward the pair, wanting to defend his teacher. Of course Wolf saw him coming, and his other hand snaked out, the dagger aimed at Nick's heart. Wolf's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Y-yes!" Mr. Beck said, trying to draw Wolf's attention. "Yes, that is this class. W-what do you want?" His voice shook noticeably.

What would I do? There was nothing I could do without betraying my identity. I would have to wait until Wolf wasn't so keen on keeping his eyes on everyone in the room. He was being careful. I kept my head down, worried that even now he would recognize me, see right through the disguise that I had worn all my life.

"Boys against the front wall," commanded Wolf, lifting one dagger away from Nick so he could move. His dagger remained firm against Mr. Beck's throat. "Girls in the back." For a second no one moved. "Now!"

Without a word my classmates followed his directions, the girls walking to the back, the boys hesitantly shuffling to the front. No one loved Mr. Beck, but no one wanted him hurt. After Nick's attempt, nobody wanted to try anything courageous.

I watched Wolf carefully as I stood, watched his eyes as he observed each boy as he moved to the front. Was he trying to find a certain lightness or agility in their step? Clearly he had come seeking me out. How did he plan on finding the Saint without a mask hiding his face?

As if sensing my attention, Wolf turned on me, his eyes angry and piercing. I turned away too slowly, and I felt his hand grip my arm. "Boys in the front," he growled.

I hesitated, not wanting to turn around, to face him directly.

"Jordan's just a girl," Mr. Beck said, his voice shaking. With my short hair and big sweatshirt, Wolf had mistaken me for a boy. Thank you, Mr. Beck.

Wolf must have looked at Mr. Beck with mistrust, because a girl spoke up. "It's true," she said. Wolf released my arm and I retreated to the back of the room. The girl who had spoken touched my arm gently. In my head I thanked her, but I wasn't able to voice the words. It was too close.

One eye on the door, Wolf examined the boys that were lined up against the wall. He flipped the dagger back into his sleeve and stepped away from Mr. Beck. The teacher exhaled and leaned against the wall, exhausted by fear. Wolf ignored him and walked calmly to the first boy on the right. It was Nick. He reached out and shoved Nick in the chest, exactly where he had cut me. Nick fell back into the wall, and he glared at Wolf. But he had already moved onto the next student. If Nick were the Saint, he would have showed some sign of pain from such a wound. So this was how Wolf planned on finding me? He was going on the only information he was sure of: that Saint Michael was male, and that he had a large wound on his chest. The latter he had personally seen to, but as to the Saint's gender…well, you already know about that. It was sloppy—he was desperate.

With Wolf in the front of the room, standing close to the only exit, he felt no need to watch the girls that were trapped in the back on the classroom, which was fine with me. He had moved onto the third boy now, and I waited until I was sure he wasn't looking to slip behind my classmates. The girls were focused on Wolf, but I still took a great chance as I jumped in a room full of people.

I appeared in my room, my uniform and mask on before ten seconds had passed. A pay phone outside my school allowed me to call the police and notify them of the situation, anonymously of course. I jumped again, this time appearing outside of the classroom in the empty hallway. The people in the classrooms next door were oblivious to what was taking place inside Room 135.

Wolf was still in the classroom; I could see Nick's eyes watching him from his place by the door. He looked outside just then, straight into my eyes. He had done his part. I put my finger to my lips, and he looked away, trying to mask his surprised expression. I jumped into the room, just behind Wolf. This time he did not foresee my appearance, and I knocked him back just as he was pushing the sixth boy. He stumbled back and caught himself by putting his hand on the teacher's desk, and all the class gasped at my sudden appearance. I chanced a glance at the back of the room to find that the girl next to me had filled in the space I occupied. My disappearance had gone unnoticed.

"You forgot something," Wolf said, sliding my Calculus textbook off of the desk and onto the floor in front of me.

I watched it fall and looked back up at him. "Great detective work. Did you find me yet?" I glanced down the line of boys, all of whom appeared unharmed.

"You couldn't have slipped out," said Wolf, his confusion clear. He appeared to be truly baffled by the circumstances. The textbook belonged to the Saint, and yet here he was, in the same room as all of the boys he suspected to be the vigilante.

"Well apparently I could have," I said, feeling superior. "Or else…I wasn't here in the first place. Could this all have been a trick?" I gasped dramatically, then let out a quick laugh.

Wolf glared, angry at being fooled, and he lunged at me, his daggers appearing as he moved.

I dove back, flipping over and landing on a desk. He swung at my legs and I leapt over him, my classmates watching, gaping as the two of us danced across the classroom. I jumped here and there, not overusing my power so much that I would exhaust myself. Wolf was too angry to foresee any of my movements, and he fought blindly. Soon he began to tire, and I jumped behind him, thinking to pin his arms. I could hear police sirens wailing, moving closer.

He whipped around and knocked me back with his elbow. I slammed against the window and slid down to the floor, angry with myself for underestimating Wolf. He was quick to follow me to the floor, eager not to let me get up again and have the chance to fight or jump. Wolf made sure to press heavily against my chest, and I grimmaced as the wound threatened to reopen. With one arm against my chest, he used his other hand to lift my head up by my hair. "You made a mistake," he said, his mouth close to my ear. "You'll make other mistakes, and I'll find you." He pulled back and our eyes locked. There was fear there despite his words, replacing the wild, reckless glint. Wolf let go of my hair and my head hit the ground. I heard the muffled cries of protest as he shoved students out of his way. He opened a window and threw himself outside. He escaped.

I hissed as I inhaled, trying to lift myself up. My hand gripped my chest, and I noticed the metallic scent of blood. A hand touched my back, helping me right myself, and I looked into Mr. Beck's eyes. He smiled at me, but his hands were still shaking from adrenaline. His cheek was red and swollen, and it looked like he had been one of the people knocked out of Wolf's way as he ran. My classmates were standing very close as I stood, and they appeared surprised as they looked at me.

I lifted my hand off of my chest and examined it. Blood came away on my fingertips. There wasn't very much, and the pain had lessened. Anything you can walk away from…

I looked around at the expectant faces. They had seen the blood. No one spoke.

"He was looking for me," I said, and they nodded as one. "Sorry." No one moved. I took a deep breath and allowed myself to relax in the face of their trust. This wasn't the first time I had seen grateful faces, but the fact that these were my classmates… I was hesitant to leave.

Mr. Beck opened his mouth as if to speak and I jumped before he could say anything. I found myself in my room, and once more I rushed through changing and bandaging my wound. Was this going to be my fate? It didn't seem so horrible. I jumped back into the classroom, in the corner where I knew no one would be looking. My classmates were gathered by the window, as I had thought they would be. Thankfully there was no evidence of the events that had so recently taken place.

I moved closer and became part of the crowd just as the police stepped in. "What's going on here?" an officer said, out of breath from running through the hallways. I recognized him from my few dealings with the police. Though as the Saint, I had did not have much direct contact with the police, I often resorted to their communications in order to bolster my own information.

The students and Mr. Beck turned towards him as one, the fear gone from their eyes. How quickly they had forgotten it, and yet despite the terror I had seen, Mr. Beck and the others had spoken up for me. Many began speaking at once in excited voices, and soon the room was filled with noise, everyone trying to tell their version. I stood towards the back, taking advantage of the time to catch my breath and nurse my wounds.

Why had Wolf been so desperate to find Saint? Surely there was a better way to find which student was hiding his identity. Wolf had seemed rushed, needing to find Saint quickly, but normally he was so clever about everything. Something had changed. I was worried that I would soon find out what that was.

Four days passed without much action: three attempted robberies, one attempted homicide, five traffic accidents all neatly avoided. Still Wolf had not made his move. With every day that passed I felt myself getting more worried, rather than the time helping me to relax.

And then it was Friday. I got home from school, again without incident. Red greeted me at the door, her tail smacking against my legs like a whip as she circled around me. "Want to go for a walk?" I said in an excited tone, though I felt everything but upbeat. Red's ears perked up and she jumped around me, running from the door to my side and back. "Alright, alright," I said, picking up her leash and opening the door. She heeled at my side as we walked down the street. She swung her head left and right, attracted by the many smells around her. The winter cold had somewhat lessened today, and people were roaming the streets in herds, bundled up tight. I walked past hundreds of shops that I had personally protected over the past few months, catching myself from smiling knowingly at the owners as they went about their business. Sometimes I forgot who I was. I went where Red led me, letting her twitching nose guide our direction.

I glanced at the rooftop, feeling the hairs on my neck rise, but there was no one there. Of course there was no one there. It was stupid. I was being paranoid. Red pulled on her leash, her eyes stern and focused, and despite myself I went with her, allowing her to take me off the street and into an empty alley. She stopped dead, smelling the air, trying to find the scent that had suddenly disappeared. She looked at me and whined in confusion, and I knelt next to her.

"It's okay," I said in a soothing voice, my hands finding the space behind her ears where she loved to be scratched. She grew silent, and another noise caught my attention. It was a faint whistling, and I jumped, taking Red with me as a trash can slammed into the space we had occupied a second before. I looked up, but once again the rooftops were empty. Red whined, feeling the effects of jumping and not understanding them.

With one quick glance around the alley, I released Red's leash and jumped up to the roof. The snow was undisturbed, and nothing betrayed the presence of another person. I jumped back down to Red and led her out of the alley, back home, feeling as if I had done something terribly wrong.

I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The incident earlier had been a setup, someone testing me; there was no other explanation. I hated myself for being so stupid, and I couldn't sleep from the fear. I stood, grabbing a shirt and jacket, and tiptoed down the stairs to avoid waking my father. Red looked up once at me from her mat and quickly put her head back down, too tired to see what I was doing. As I gently closed the door behind me, I thought of how much easier my escape would have been if I could have jumped, but I didn't want to risk it. I walked down the street, upset and confused. Yesterday couldn't have been an accident, and yet I found myself still hoping that I was wrong.

Lost in my thoughts, I moved down the street, the gray skies matching my somber mood. Not many stores were open this late on a Friday night, and I watched virtually alone as the sun sank lower into the horizon.

I turned onto a side street, thinking to go to the park two blocks down, when something hit me with the force of a freight train. I opened my eyes to find myself on the ground, the dirty snow soaking into my shirt. A familiar mask loomed over me, and I cursed loudly as I recognized Wolf. Again, I had to remind myself who I was. I tore my eyes away from Wolf, not wanting him to see through me. He laughed.

"Saint," he said, his voice sure.

"What?" I asked. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

He knelt down, his knee pressing into my chest, and the wound on my chest screamed. I tried to quell the pain as he pressed his full weight down on the wound. Every part of me was focused on keeping my face from showing what I felt inside. I wished I had my mask.

"Oh really?" he said, mocking my struggle. No, I couldn't show him my pain.

"I'm not—ah!" He turned his leg so his knee ground into the wound, and I gasped, unable to stop myself. Wolf smiled, keeping contact with me so that I couldn't jump without taking him with me. I shut my mouth, trying to ignore the fire that burned in my chest.

"That-a-boy," he said, grinning. "Or should I say girl?" He took his dagger and pressed it against my throat. "Take us to the new building on 7th Avenue. No tricks."

I hesitated. I had no other choice, and Wolf knew it. I jumped.

We appeared in the new building, an ideal choice. It was empty, the outside having just been finished. The inside was bare, without carpets or insulation, and as we appeared on the top floor Wolf acted quickly. He had a pair of handcuffs in his hands, and without removing his knee from my chest he grabbed my arm and locked me to an exposed pipe in the wall. Only then did he stand.

With my free hand holding my chest, trying to stop the burning, I pulled my arm, testing the strength of my chains. The pipe didn't budge. I looked at Wolf. He was walking away from me, across the room. With his back turned, I took my chance to jump out of the room. I felt myself stretch, trying to reach the safety of my room, but the handcuffs held me rooted in place, and I cried out as I was pulled in two directions. I snapped back in place with a loud slam as I hit the wall from the force of my jump, still handcuffed to the pipe. My entire body hurt from the strain, and my wrist was red and swollen from anchoring me.

"I had a feeling that might happen," Wolf said, sitting down against the opposing wall. His chest was heaving from jumping such a far distance. For those who weren't used to it, jumping caused a lot of physical strain. I didn't feel bad for him. I was exhausted from bringing two people so far, from trying to escape. My whole body hurt. He didn't know what pain was. I resigned myself to my fate, leaning my head against the wall.

His voice rose up out of the silence. "Tying you down makes sense. It keeps you from teleporting." I knew he was watching me from across the room, but I didn't bother returning the gaze. Though his conversational tone intrigued me, I found myself ignorant of his words. I closed my eyes.

"Hey!" he called. "Hey!" I felt myself fade away.

"Saint! Hey!" To me a mere second had passed, but Wolf was already at my side, his hand grabbing my arm and shaking me vigorously.

I reached out and pushed him away, and he saw it coming. But for some reason he let me do it. He stumbled back and straightened. "Don't fall asleep," he said.

I glared at him but did not lean my head against the wall again.

I could have asked him what he wanted, but I didn't. I remained silent, quietly tending my wounds as he watched me. Within moments he began to speak, and I listened, his captive audience.

"I need your help," said Wolf, appearing humble. "A few weeks ago someone followed me, found out who I was. It was stupid, and I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. They—he—acted on it immediately. I was threatened, and I didn't think he could touch me, but I was wrong. I started getting messages, little things like where my mother was at a certain time and what she had been doing, one of my brother's favorite books or video games. Just to show me that he could get that close without me knowing about it."

I remained motionless, but I was listening intently. It certainly helped explain why Wolf was acting so frantic. It was strange to hear him talk so freely, and I found myself sympathizing with him despite the situation. There was a reason that we wore masks.

"So I gave in, I really had no other choice." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that looked more habitual than intentional. "He rents me out, uses me for the highest bidder. In the beginning I was only doing small jobs, more like my usual stuff, but as people saw that he was for real he got some strange customers."

Silently I wondered what Wolf's idea of "strange" was.

He continued. "They wanted me to kill—"

"As if you had a problem with that before you were blackmailed," I muttered.

He caught my eyes, and though I expected him to be indignant he was calm. "Bad people. Anyone who picks a fight with me. Not…innocent civilians. These people they wanted me to hurt didn't do anything wrong, and I couldn't." His eyes left mine, lost in a painful memory. "After that, I was given a job from some company called Lansa along with more threats. I was stealing some information from Manchem—evidence that Lansa didn't want leaked."

The memory of the disc I had stolen from Wolf came back to me. Where was it? I had lost it that night. Wolf had stopped speaking to look at me again, knowing what he was reminding me of. By now he had figured out that I had taken the disc. He kept eye contact, and I looked back, afraid to turn away and lose our silent contest.

"Every time he tells me it's going to be over, just one more job and I'll be clear, but there's always one more." He clenched one of his hands into a fist. "It isn't going to stop, and I'm afraid what he'll do to my family if I try to get out of it."

"So you're going to blackmail me," I cut in, my rage quickly returning.

He wasn't affected by my tone. "If that's what it takes, yes. I was hoping this once you might help me, because you might need my help—"

I tilted my head, my reply sarcastic. "Right."

"And because in order for you to help me, which you will, you'll have to know certain things about me."
"Such as your identity."

He paused, not wanting to be in the position. "Yes."

"And after all of this, you and I are just going to continue on with our merry lives. No late night visits to finish off one another?"

"We'll have to worry about that later." He stood up. "I've had enough. I'm not going to try to convince you anymore. You are helping me whether you want to or not." He turned away and started working with a backpack lying on the floor that I hadn't noticed.

I pushed away the resentment I had for him. As much as I disliked my dad, I wasn't about to put him in harm's way. "This man who threatened you," I started. "Do you know his name? Where do you meet with him? Anything might be able to help us."

Wolf turned around at my questioning, unable to hide his relief. His desire to protect his family had transformed him, and once again I felt myself sympathizing with the person who had tried to kill me only an hour ago.

He walked towards me, the key to the handcuffs in his hands. He bent down as he began to speak, exposing his neck to me as he freed me from my chains. For once I didn't want to take advantage of his weakness, because mine was the same.

Wolf started by taking me to his home. I could only assume he wanted me to be able to check on his family if he couldn't. Wolf ran fast, leaping quickly across rooftops. He didn't ask me to jump him anywhere. Undoubtedly he had seen the strain it caused, and I didn't jump ahead of him. I knew I didn't possess the strength—it was hard enough keeping up with him as I was, but I didn't think I would have if I could. I ran next to him, matching his speed and agility, and for once roaming the city wasn't so lonely. If only it wasn't Wolf that I was running beside. I thought about what he had told me at the new building as we ran, about our enemy.

His blackmailer was man in his thirties, with rich tastes and a snobby attitude. His accent suggested he was from North Emon, though he often used words that were clearly beyond his vocabulary. 6'4'', bony, big pointy nose. Those were Wolf's words anyway. His attention to detail was lost in his ranting about his blackmailer, but I managed to get a name from him: Alexander Marlow.

We finally came to a stop in Northern Emon, one of the wealthier districts. I followed Wolf's gaze, as he was too lost in thought to show where he lived. Across from us stood a building, and on top of it a house had been built, as if it had been taken right from the suburbs. I had seen the structure before in my travels, but I had never paid much attention to it. I knew the same people who lived in the house owned the building, but their name didn't come to mind.

His apprehension was clear, and I understood it. Though I wanted to get finished with our task as soon as possible, I remained silent, allowing him time to sort himself out.

I had figured Wolf for this type of lifestyle. Originally, when I first found him stealing jewelry, I had thought he was doing it for money, but when none of the items that he had stolen had been fenced in Emon, I became suspicious. The way in which he drew out his robberies and dealings with law enforcement showed me that his actions were part of a game. Clearly he was bored with his life.

And now here he was, forced to do something that had been fun for him. I felt like it served him right. His games cost lives, no matter how few or how innocent. He justified himself by saying he didn't kill good people. It was maddening. I sat there, getting more and more angry with myself for giving in so easily, until his voice brought me back to reality.

"My name is Elijah Hedger—Eli. I've lived here all my life. This is what a lot of people dream about, and it's boring. That's why I became Wolf. It was too hard living so easily, watching everyone around me work for a living. But for all their work, the servants, the people at my father's office, were happy knowing that they had worked for their goals and achieved them. I had nothing." He sighed. "If I can't work to be proud of something, I don't see the point in living."

"How philosophical," I mused. He turned on me, his eyes narrow. I rolled my eyes. "You dragged me out here, and I agreed to help you, but don't expect me to listen to your life story and be sympathetic."

He raised an eyebrow and reached his hand up to his face, his fingers gently pulling the mask from his face, and for the first time I looked upon Wolf. Unmasked, he did not appear as vulnerable as I thought. He had a regal bearing, but he was clearly unhappy about having to show himself to me.

"We're equals now," he said.

I did not respond, only turned away to look at the building. The Saint came back to me quickly, and I found myself scanning the street and the area around his home for any sign of surveillance. Wolf—Eli? No, it was too strange to call him that—Wolf stood next to me, noticing my attention.

"I can't find any way that he could be watching them," he said, turning and leaning into the wall. Whatever this guy does, he's good at it."

He reached suddenly into his jacket and I found myself tense, ready for him to take out a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a cell phone. He looked away from me as he held it to his ear. "Yeah?"

I raised an eyebrow as he listened intently to the voice on the other line, and as I watched, a noticeable change came over him. His eyes, just moments ago full of anger, lost their sharp glint. His face relaxed, and he nodded as if the person on the other line could see him. I was just about to shake him out of it when he turned off the phone and put it back in his jacket.

"We have to get that disc," he said.

"You okay?" I asked. "Who was that?"

He ignored my questions. What was going on? "Let's go," he said, turning his eyes on me. His orbs were empty, lifeless, and I couldn't keep eye contact.

"I'll get it," I said, eager to get away from him.

"I'm going with you," Wolf said, his eyes looking across the rooftops. The moment was gone, and life had returned to his body. My confusion was overwhelming, and I focused it on his words, not knowing what else I could do. "You aren't going—"

I bristled. Did he intend on following me everywhere? "Look, I can't betray you without screwing things up for my father, so you don't have to—"

Wolf pushed away from the wall and stood up straight. "I'm going with you," he repeated. "We don't trust each other—it's as simple as that—so let's just work together to get this over with." He lifted his hand to his face and his mask was in place again as if it had never moved.

I started to argue, but then I realized that it was hopeless. Wolf was going to get his way no matter what, because we both knew I wouldn't do anything to harm his family, but if he was unpredictable because he would do anything to protect them. Then again, given the choice between my father and having to kill someone, I don't know what I would be capable of.

I sighed and without a word broke into a run, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, heading towards one of the many caches I had hidden throughout the city. I didn't have to look back to know he was following me. As we moved from district to district, I felt myself slowing down, exhausted from jumping and trying to breathe with the weight of the wound on my chest. But I kept going, my anger at being used fueling me until we finally reached a warehouse near Dr. McKnight's apartment. With Wolf a block behind me, I ducked inside the roof entrance and reappeared in my uniform. He stopped across from me as I was pulling on my gloves. I was breathing heavily, but I managed to slow my heartbeat down just enough so I wasn't gasping for breath. I didn't want my enemy seeing me weak, but I suppose he already had.

He didn't speak, and I didn't explain where we were headed as I started again, my exhaustion catching up with me the more I stayed still. This time he ran next to me, foreseeing where I would turn and running as if he knew the way. With my mask on I felt stronger, more prepared to face whatever Wolf threw at me. I leapt into the air, mastering the short distance between two buildings, but on impact I stumbled and fell to one knee.

"Jordan," Wolf said, already stopped and walking back to help.

I got to my feet before he got too close. "My name is Saint," I growled, and set off again.

He didn't speak again and I couldn't muster the strength to think of anything to say. We ran until late morning, and finally we reached Dr. McKnight's apartment. Wolf must have recognized the area because he slowed down as we approached the block. I stopped and turned around.

"You should stay here," I said, watching him closely for a reaction. "This man might recognize you."

Wolf looked at me, then down to the street. He shook his head. "No," he said, and my hope fell. "I'm going with you." His determination to follow me everywhere was getting annoying. I opened my mouth to tell him that McKnight wouldn't want to help a criminal like Wolf, and then I stopped. It was worthless, getting so upset about nothing. If he wanted to be in control of everything, I wasn't going to stop him.

"Fine," I said evenly, and swung down from the roof to the open third story window. Wolf followed behind me, and we found ourselves in the doctor's apartment, in the room where I had first met him. The light was off, but I could hear noise coming from another room.

"Dr. McKnight," I called, not wanting to surprise anyone. "It's Saint. Hello?" I followed the noise to a small kitchen where an elderly woman was washing plates. "Mrs. McKnight?" She turned around and I maintained my distance, not wanting to scare her. Her aged face was half hidden by huge glasses, and though she was short and squat she looked very strong.

"Oh my," she said, her eyes wide for a brief moment and then relaxing as she recognized me. "Saint," she sighed, clearly relieved.

"I'm sorry I used the window—"

"Don't be silly dear," she cut in, turning her back on me to dry her hands. Wolf appeared behind me, and I knew he had searched the room for the disc. His presence showed that he had found nothing, and I was happy that he had been disappointed. He didn't seem to care that he was invading the McKnight's privacy.

"Who's your friend?" she asked, turning to smile at us.

"His name is Wolf," Dr. McKnight said, ducking his head to walk through a low doorway. "And he was just about to go."

I started to speak, but Wolf cut me off. "We'll leave as soon as you hand over the disc."

Dr. McKnight looked from me to Wolf, and I was glad for my mask, because I didn't want him to see my shame. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but we really do need that disc."

He stared at me, and I couldn't meet his gaze. Finally he sighed and disappeared, reappearing with the same disc I had stolen from Wolf days ago. No one spoke, and the atmosphere was tense as he moved towards me and handed me the disc. I reached towards it, but instead of letting go, Dr. McKnight held onto it. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked in a hushed tone, so that neither Wolf nor his wife could hear him.

I met his gaze and nodded. He let go of the disc, watching Wolf closely as he went to the window.
I thanked him and left, my stomach in knots, and I wondered for how long this could go on.

I met Wolf on the rooftop. His eyes were hard and cold, and he glared at me in a way that made me feel small. "Do you have the disc?" he asked, his tone betraying nothing.

I nodded and pulled the disc out of my pocket without thinking. He grabbed it and I recoiled.

"What the hell?" I snapped.

"I'm going to take this back to Marlow," he said. I opened my mouth but he cut me off. "Alone."

Angrily, I focused on the disc. The familiar headache returned, and already I regretted my stubbornness. Why did it matter so much that I have the disc?

A voice, strong and without hesitation, answered me. It's because Wolf wants to take it to Marlow alone.

Before Wolf could understand what I was doing, the disc had disappeared from his hands. I held it up with a grin. "It's mine now." He growled and lunged at me, his hand grabbing my arm. I wrestled free and jumped.

There was nothing of interest on the disc. Despite the fact that it had well-documented evidence of experiments that a rival company of Manchem Corp. had used in testing its product. Surely this evidence would shut the company down, and therefore the same company that was threatened by Manchem's discovery must have been Wolf's employer. But this disc had nothing to do with Wolf himself, so why did Wolf want to see Marlow alone?

Whatever the answer, I knew the surest way to stop any problem was to get to the root of it, and without knowing what Marlow's motives were any efforts I made to stop him would be useless. I sighed and crossed my hands behind my head. I felt so tired.

Outside the window night had blanketed the city, and I was reminded that Wolf knew who I was and where I lived. I sighed again. I wouldn't be able to sleep in my own bed tonight. I grabbed a changed of clothes and jumped one last time. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I reappeared in one of the many hotel rooms I had visited just for this purpose. Luckily, the first one was vacant, and I fell onto the bed, asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I opened my eyes. Wolf sat across from me, and I sat up slowly, knowing I had been caught.

"How did you find me?" I asked, emotionally exhausted. I held my head in my hands, trying to fight my weariness.

"I managed to get a tracking bug on you before you jumped," he said calmly. "You've been asleep for three hours." My hand immediately went to my arm, where, sure enough, a bug half a centimeter large was tracking away.

I glared at him.

"What do you want?" I said, getting straight to the point.

"You can come with me," he said.

I raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing more. I got to my feet, and he led me out the door, and down to the main floor of the hotel. I was surprised that he would have us walk so publicly, but I wasn't about to lose my chance to stop Marlow. I followed him, ignoring the shocked looks we received from the few hotel employees that were still awake. There was a limo waiting for us, and he got in. I looked inside before entering, my eyes searching for whatever traps might await me. I could find nothing. I got in.

We drove a short distance in silence, and when we stopped Wolf got out quickly. He rushed inside a large black building—the Poe Institute, if I remembered correctly. Security guards watched us approach an elevator, but they did nothing to obstruct our path. Clearly we were expected.

We entered the elevator, and it moved on its own, stopping at the 37th floor. Once again Wolf rushed ahead of me. I walked slowly behind him into the enormous room. The floors and walls were composed of black marble, and marble columns reached up into the high ceiling. The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the lights of the city that reached in through the massive open windows.

Wolf walked ahead of me, but soon his steps became irregular. It was as if he were fighting himself. I slowed and watched him cautiously.

"Eli!" a voice cried jovially. A man appeared out of the shadows, his round, smiling face and bouncy step making him appear childlike. His blonde hair was long and hung freely around his blue eyes, and he practically tripped over his long legs and big feet as he rushed at Wolf. Wolf stepped back, clearly not wanting such a welcome.

The boy's—man's—arms wrapped around Wolf with a snake-like tenacity, and he whispered something in Wolf's ear. As before when Wolf was on the phone, his body relaxed, and his eyes lost focus. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Wolf's arms dropped to his sides, and the man released him.

Wolf turned and walked towards me, and I watched him approach.

"Saint Michael," he said, his eyes already returning to normal. "This is Alexander Marlow."

I eyed the man behind Wolf with disbelief. "What's going on?" I asked as Wolf continued towards me. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing special really," Marlow said. I stared back at him and found myself unable to look away. The blue of his eyes was like the ocean, and it pulled at me. I found myself slowly sinking…

I shook my head. I could feel Marlow's mind like fingers, groping around blindly in my head.

"What the hell?" I shouted, my anger forcing him to recoil and step backwards. He looked up and smiled at me. "What are you—"

I felt hands grab me from behind, pinning my arms. "Wolf?" He didn't answer me.

"He's asleep," Marlow said. "Well, sort of. He's not really in control of himself. Just like—"

"A puppet," Wolf finished, but his voice was hollow, as if…as if Marlow was speaking through him.

I struggled against Wolf's suffocating embrace. Marlow stepped closer and reached out his hands with a grin. I watched him warily until I felt the tendrils of his mind pulling at my secrets.

"Stop," I said softly, my mental walls rising up against him, shutting him out. He tried again, ramming against my barricades. I held out, closing my eyes and wincing. It was worse than physical pain—I was used to that at least. My obstinacy kept him at bay, and finally he stopped.

"You're strong," he said, clearly disappointed. I chanced a glance behind me to find that Wolf's eyes had not cleared. I could expect no help from him.

"You're a telepath," I said, turning back to Marlow, who was now walking away.

"I hate that word, but I guess it serves to describe me." He gestured towards Wolf. "His foresight leaves his mind open to me, but you… " He seemed unsure.

I almost laughed. So he hadn't been able to glean any information in the short time he had been in my head. I thought of Wolf and wondered if Marlow knew what Wolf had found out in the past day.

"You've had the disc all this time," Marlow said, and I held in a sigh of relief. If Marlow didn't know about our visit with Dr. McKnight, maybe he didn't know my identity. Marlow probably hadn't had the chance to question Wolf about what he had discovered. I resolved to make sure he never had that chance.

"If you could control Wolf, why did you need to threaten his family?" I asked, needing to understand.

Marlow eyed me. "Wow. I can't believe… Wow. Did he take you to his 'home' as well? I can't believe that little story got this far." He nodded at Wolf. "His parents died a long time ago. What he believes is something I made up to help him deal with that pain."

"You made him forget them?" My anger was beginning to peak.

"It began innocently enough. The lies grew deeper as he fought my influence. The longer he is away from me, the weaker the immediate effect of my suggestions. I realized that the threat of someone close to him getting hurt would keep him coming back. I need him. After all, he has been the one to fund all this." He waved his arm to indicate the massive room. "But it takes a very long time for the stronger suggestions to disappear completely. I assume Wolf told you not to come here at first?"

I swallowed and nodded.

He smiled. "I thought so. He can fight it, but in the end, he always ends up helping me."

I struggled against Wolf, but my heart wasn't in it. "You wanted me to come here?"

Marlow nodded.

"Why tell me all this?"

Marlow laughed. I was beginning to get annoyed by his jovial attitude. Marlow said, "Because you too are going to help me."

"You can't force me," I said, reaching into my sleeve for the small pocketknife I carried. "You can't get inside my head."

"There are other ways to subdue you," he said, showing his teeth. He began walking towards me, and finally I got the knife out. With a little bit of maneuvering I was able to cut Wolf's forearm. He howled and released me, and I stepped back so I could see both Marlow and Wolf.

As I had hoped, the pain had awakened Wolf, and his eyes cleared as he focused on me. "Saint?" he asked.

"Nice try," Marlow said, and his eyebrows drew together. Wolf turned, and their eyes met, and all I could do was watch as both fought for control. Wolf thrashed around, holding his head as if it would keep Marlow from sifting through his memories.

I had to do something. I stretched my hand out to Wolf and focused on the power I had used so sparingly. I didn't even know if I would be able to do it, but I found myself reaching for the strength. My muscles tensed with the effort, and I felt sweat trickle down my forehead. Wolf began to flicker, and Marlow's eyes widened.

"No!" he shouted, feeling Wolf slip away. "Stop Saint! Stop him!"

I grinned. Marlow still hadn't learned my identity.

The connection broken, Wolf looked at me. He didn't need his foresight to know what I was doing. He faded, his mouth open, trying to speak. Using all of my strength, I sent him elsewhere, hoping that it was far enough away from Marlow. There was no sign that Wolf had ever been in the room. I fell to one knee, breathing heavily from the effort.

"Idiot!" Marlow cried, rage burning in his eyes. He threw himself at me and I jumped at the last moment, only to reappear a few feet away. I was too tired. I couldn't escape.

"Ah," Marlow said, his smile returning. "Running out of steam aren't you?" He closed the distance between us and I straightened to meet him. No, I didn't want to run. He tried to punch me, but I blocked him and returned with a kick to his side. He bent over and I delivered a swift uppercut to his stomach. Marlow stumbled back, and I lingered, my whole body weary.

Marlow chuckled and stood. "You can't keep this up forever," he said, and he came at me again, his hands closing around my throat.

"Why are you doing this?" I managed to get out, my hands on his wrists, trying to pry his fingers from my neck.

"Why?" he echoed. "Why? I perform favors for the biggest businessmen in Emon City, and of course these favors will not go unrewarded. Soon I'll be running this city, and you'll help me… just as soon as I break through those walls."

I gasped for air and couldn't find it. His vice grip on my neck kept me pinned, and once more I felt his mind trying to overcome my own. I closed my eyes. "Look at me," he said, shaking me. "Look at me!"

"No!" I cried, and I used my forearm to break his hold on me. I slipped behind him, but he was faster. He swung around to deliver a vicious blow to my head. I was knocked to the ground, and he took the chance to kick me in the stomach.

I groaned, and Marlow reached down and lifted me up by my hair. "Still fighting?" he asked. In answer I took a swing at him, and before I could connect he had thrown me across the room. I slammed into a marble column and down to the floor. I tried to lift myself to find that I didn't have the strength.

I could hear Marlow laughing, and he grabbed my neck and lifted me from the ground. My eyes were open, and he caught me before I could look away. The walls went up again, but I had so little strength left. He laughed harder and punched me in the stomach, and the fight went out of me.

"Let's try this again," he said, and as I struggled for air he looked deep into my eyes, sifting through my mind. I fought him as hard as I could, but he slapped away every attempt. Already inside my head, it was easy for him to protect himself. I was nothing more than an annoyance. I let myself drift away, so tired of fighting. His laughter became louder.

"You're a girl?" he said. "Just a girl? I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't found it out myself." He tossed me aside. With a groggy mind I saw Marlow standing between the open window and me.

I can't give up.

Summoning the last of my strength, I jumped to the window.

"Saint," Marlow said, and turned to find me gone. He whipped around to see me standing by the window, wavering on my feet.

Already his mind was reaching for me, trying to get me to stop. I pulled away from him and fell back, out into the night.

And Wolf caught me.

His hand was gripping the collar of my jacket, and beneath my feet glowed the lights of the city, 37 stories beneath me. I looked up, every movement a struggle, to see him hanging onto the side of the building. Above him, Marlow was leaning out his window. Neither Wolf nor Marlow spoke, but Wolf's rage was unmistakable.

"Bring her back," Marlow commanded.

Wolf ignored him, and as my vision began to fade I felt us descending into the bowels of the city, away from Marlow, and I felt myself descend into unconsciousness.

"Why did you send me away?" Wolf asked as soon as my eyes opened.

From my place on the couch I could see the sky red from the sunset. Had I slept an entire day? "What time is it?" I asked. Wolf was silent. I began to prop myself up on my arms and thought better of it when the pain hit me. I couldn't decide what part of my body hurt more. It was no wonder I was in pain—Marlow had tossed me around like a toy. I had fought him as hard as I could but…

But I had been defeated. And Wolf was the one to save me. I looked at him. His mask was off, revealing his eyes, sunken in with lack of sleep but fiery with anger.

"Why did you send me away?" he repeated more forcefully.

I tried again to sit up. Jaw clenched, muscles straining, I pulled myself upright. It was torture moving inch, and I was sweating by the time I finally set my feet on the ground.