October 7th, 1876. London, England.

Edmund awoke in the middle of the night, his bed sheets tangled, his hair damp with sweat. This dream wasn't new to him; he'd relived that night many plenty of times over the past 12 years. Mary had been kind enough to take him in after the death of his parents. He looked out the bedroom window and into the silent city streets of London's East End, illuminated by moonlight and the fire of gas lamps. The house was located in the Whitechapel district. It was a small house, but it was quaint and homey, the home he had gotten used to over the past decade. I cannot see myself falling back asleep any time soon, Edmund thought. Besides, it looks like a nice night for a walk. Maybe I'll meet with Jesse down at the pubs. She ought to be around there this time of night; and what better place could there be for her to rob drunk men of their pounds? Edmund put on his black trousers, threw on a clean white shirt, and exited his bedroom, grabbing his grey coat on his way downstairs and through the front door.

He made his way down the cobblestone street, navigating the side roads and pathways, until he came upon the pubs of Commercial Street. It was busy this time of night, the street and pubs filled with patrons who were laughing and chatting, drinking and smoking, singing and gambling. The sound of clinking glasses and drunken slurs filled the air. As Edmund made his way through the crowd, he noticed the odd prostitute trying to persuade a drunken man into having a good time, as well as the occasional brawl, usually brought upon by an accidental bump, one party accusing another of cheating at cards, or by drunkenly mistaking someone's request for a second round as an insult to one's mother. However, he could not spot Jesse. He decided this was a good time to use his "gift", as his parents used to call it. A rare ability that, as they had educated him, allowed him to focus all of his senses and increase their potency. He closed his eyes for a second or two, slowing his breath, before reopening his eyes. As he moved through the street, the citizens appeared a pale blue, except for one who happened to be sitting at a corner table in The Princess Alice. This one appeared a golden yellow.

Jesse.

He first met Jesse when he was nine years old. He had woken up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and heard a noise coming from the kitchen. When he entered, he had found a young girl rummaging through the cupboards, looking for food. She looked about a year or so younger than himself. He managed to convince her not to run away, and they spent the better part of an hour sitting on the kitchen floor while they conversed and shared a half loaf of bread. Their chatter had managed to awaken Mary from her slumber, and although she seemed none too pleased to come down to scold Edmund for waking her up, she was very surprised at the sight of the girl and was quite kind to her. She offered her more food and something to drink, and even told her she was a welcome to stay. Jesse, though grateful, politely refused the housing offer, saying she already had a home and a family in the streets of London, and that she enjoyed the freedom. She left after that, and Edmund had been friends with her ever since, meeting up at Mary's house or in the streets, in the middle of the day or the dead of night.

Edmund walked through the front door of the pub and made his way to the Jesse's table in the back corner. She appeared to be playing a game of chess against a middle-aged gent, and she was well on her way to victory.

"Checkmate!" she cried as she cornered the man's king with her queen, then tipping the king onto its side. She then held her hand out to the man, a smile threatening to show itself on her lips. "Well played, sir. But a bet's a bet and, if I am not to be mistaken, the bet we had was fifteen pounds. Time to pay up."

The man stared at the board for a moment in disbelief before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fist full of notes. He placed them in Jesse's hand, got up, and walked away. Although he was silent, his friend, who had been watching, was quite mocking, saying things like "you poor bastard, getting beaten by a young lass."

Edmund asked the barmaid for a pint before taking the now empty seat at the corner table and turned his attention to Jesse. "Now, now, Miss Warlow, did you really have to trounce the poor chap so badly?" A young lady approached, setting Edmund's drink down in front of him. "Thank you, m'lady." She gave him a wink before heading off to a different table.

"He was the one who challenged me, Edmund. How could I have refused?" She asked with fake innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. They looked at each other with complete seriousness for a second before bursting out laughing.

Edmund took a sip of his drink. "So besides him," he inquired with a smirk, "how many other poor fellows managed to fall victim to your charm?"

"Skill, Edmund. Charm and skill," Jesse corrected with a wink. "And three others, to answer your question, though none of them was quite as good as the last. They bet a little less than he did, too. But all in all, I managed to win forty-five pounds. Think I might call it an early night, though. There are a few errands I need to run for my father."

Edmund nodded and took another sip of his drink as Jesse stood up. He stood, too, to give her a hug goodbye. "You know," Edmund said as they ended their embrace and Jesse started for the door, "in all the time I have known you, I've never met your father."

Jesse turned and looked over her shoulder at Edmund. There was something about her look. It contained a mix of humour and seriousness. "Most don't," she admitted. "My father only meets with a certain type of people. But I believe, Edmund, that you are one of those people, and, if you are, you will meet him soon enough." She gave a small wave farewell before walking out the door.

What could she possibly mean by that? Edmund wondered.

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of glass clattering on the floor and a collective silence. He turned to see the young lady from before attempting to wipe freshly spilled beer off a man's shirt. The man was clearly drunk and seemed very angry.

"You stupid wench!" The man yelled, pushing her to the ground. "You got beer all over me nice, new shirt!"

"I'm so sorry, John! It was an accident, I swear!" The lady cried. Fear was clearly visible on her face. Edmund had to help her.

"Why don't you just settle down, John?" Edmund asked, slowly making his way to the irate man. "It was just an accident."

John stared at Edmund. "Don't you tell me what to do, lad. This ain't none o' your business." He turned his attention back to the woman. "She ruined my shirt, so I ought to ruin somethin' of hers." He raised his fist.

Edmund was quick to move, grabbing John's forearm. "I said settle down. That is enough."

John now focused all of his attention on Edmund, pulling his arm free. "Are you deaf, ya little bastard? I said piss off!" He threw a punch towards Edmund's face. Edmund ducked, grabbing John's arm again and turning it elbow up, making John hunch over. Edmund thrust his right knee into John's torso, hearing him gasp for air as the wind was knocked out of him. Edmund's free fist then came down across John's face, disorienting him. Finally, Edmund turned and threw John into a nearby table, causing the man to roll over it onto the floor while upturning the table, sending glasses crashing to the floor.

Edmund turned to the crowd of people, who were now circled around him and John. "It might be best if some of you gents got him out of here," He said before heading to the door. Edmund wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a hooded man from the crowd move toward the door as well.

The October air was crisp and cool. Just the refreshment that Edmund needed after the night he had. But as he made his way back to Mary's house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right; the feeling that he was being watched or followed. He stopped to look back over his shoulder, but saw nothing but an empty street. Calm down, Edmund, he told himself. He continued his walk back toward the house, still feeling uneasy. He took another look over his shoulder, and this time, he thought he saw a hooded figure move behind the corner of a house. The man from the pub, he thought. Edmund now knew that he was definitely not alone.

He picked up his pace to a brisk walk and rounded the next corner. There he hid, waiting for the figure to follow him. He didn't need to wait long, for after about a minute, a man in a grey hooded jacket rounded the corner. Edmund struck out, his fist connecting with the side of the man's face. The man stumbled and lost his focus long enough for Edmund to grab the man and pin him to the wall, elbow at his throat.

"You have one minute to tell me who you are and why it is you are following me, mate." Edmund demanded in a forceful voice. The man had his head bowed, the shadow of his cowl protecting his face. Then, his body began to shake. It took Edmund a moment to notice that this man was actually laughing.

"Oh, come now, lad. It's only been twelve years," the man remarked as he lifted his head, bringing a hand to his hood and pulling it back All Edmund could do was stare. "Do not tell me you cannot recognise your ol' Uncle Axel."

Edmund, still silent with shock, dropped his elbow and stepped back. It took him a moment to find his words. "Uncle Axel? I haven't seen you since my parents' funeral. My god, man. What the bloody hell are you doing following me?"

Axel straightened and looked Edmund dead in the eye. "We need to talk, lad. Regarding your parents, and regarding your future."

"What do you mean, uncle?" Edmund asked. "I know my father was a great doctor, and he taught me some of it as a child. He left me some of his books and journals. Am I supposed to become a doctor as well?"

"No, my boy. Your father was a doctor, yes, but that was only part of who he was. Your father was also part of an old Brotherhood." Edmund's uncle reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver pocket watch. Edmund recognised it instantly. His hand automatically went to his own pocket, feeling his own silver disk.

"My father had one just like it. He gave it to me the night he died," Edmund said.

"Then you have seen the symbol on the back? That is the symbol of our Order."

Edmund took out his pocket watch and examined the symbol on the back. It looked like an upside down V which was curved at the ends. A crescent line, pointed in the middle, ran underneath it. A smoky pattern surrounded the symbol.

"Your father was a member of that Order. As am I. As was your grandfather. As will you be, should you choose to accept, Edmund."

Edmund stared silently at the watch, remembering his parents, remembering the night they died, remembering the shadow at the end of the road, the one who killed his father.

He looked up at his uncle, the pocket watch clenched in his hand. "I accept."