Chapter 1

Ana arrived in the small town of Forks, Washington in the middle of the night with only a large duffel bag strapped to her back. Her mud splattered black motorcycle roared to a stop outside of the house her boss had rented for her online, site unseen. She briefly hoped she wouldn't wake the neighbours with the noise but that thought was quickly overshadowed as she appraised the house in the moonlight with disgust. It was an old dilapidated brick building, desperately needing a new roof and some serious lawn care, not quite up to her usual standards. She glanced around the street as the rain fell lightly around her, noting the similar, older appearances of the nearby houses. Most appeared to have been kept in better shape, but then again, this was just a rental and the owner clearly did not care about upkeep. Why would they though? From the research she had done, this was not a town that attracted tourists or anyone for that matter; the house had probably been left empty for a very long time. She knew it had been on and off the real estate market for about a decade, unable to sell.

She parked her bike in the driveway and frowned at the weeds poking up between the ancient interlocking brick before walking up to the door. Who would choose a brick driveway to go with a brick house? No wonder it had never sold.

Ana glanced around quickly, then rummaged through the large rusted white mailbox where her contact had said he would leave a key. She listened hard around her for signs of life but there was nothing but the sweet sound of rain softly hitting her black leather jacket. Her fingers closed around something rectangular taped to the inside of the box and she pulled it out. Ah, there was the key, tucked in an envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills.

Ana raised her eyebrows, counting the money. Clients were not usually this generous with expenses. This must be an important job, even though she had been given few details about it. The payday would be huge, that was one thing she did know. She did not know who the client was, as she worked through a middle man so there was never any direct contact. It was better this way; safer.

She let herself into the house with the key, noting the warm, musty, stale air that pushed against her as she walked inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. She glanced around at the yellowed sheets covering the house furnishings, hoping that the furniture, particularly the bed, were not in as rough shape as the outside of the house.

Her cover story was that she was here to help fix up the house to sell for her elderly uncle. As Ana looked around, she thought that she might actually fix the house up just for fun, depending on how long she had to stay. She walked further into the living room and flicked a light switch on, feeling annoyed when nothing happened. If the power was turned off the water likely was too; she would have to take care of that tomorrow. No shower for her tonight.

She took her helmet off now and then took her new cellphone from her back pocket and used its light to see around her. Squinting around, she spotted a white envelope on what had to be the coffee table, not even fifteen feet from the front door; her last apartment had been bigger than this house. She strode over to it in just a few steps, picking it up eagerly.

There was a single photo inside and three sheets of paper, one with handwritten instructions. She read the handwritten page first:

"Previously resided in California, lives with his parents, no siblings, one dog. Parents own a sporting goods store; he works here. Follow him, take notes about his habits, mannerisms, family, friends, likes, dislikes, etc. You have been enrolled in the high school under your real name, get close to him. Do not raise any suspicions. His father stole some very important documents 10 years years ago. Find them if possible; company name of 'Xamin' may be watermarked on them. Leave a detailed report every Sunday at midnight in the mailbox until told otherwise. Await further instructions."

Ana frowned at the high school part. She glanced at the second sheet now, it was an enrollment form for Forks High School, stating her full, real name, Analeigh Hale and listing her as 17 years old. She pursed her lips, it was accurate at least. Her face and body were the same as they had been since she really was 17, back in the year 1864.

She glanced at the third sheet of paper now, it was a class schedule. She made a face at this as well; who wanted to go back to high school? She was scheduled to begin classes this coming Monday, which meant that she had all of tomorrow to gather supplies and work on her cover story. People in small towns loved to ask questions. Who are you? Where are you from? Where are your parents? Annoying.

Lastly, she looked at the picture. It was a school photo of a smiling 17 year old boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. She hoped that whatever his parents had done was able to be resolved without any bloodshed, but then again, since she had been hired to get close to him, that wasn't likely to happen. Whatever they had done, they had pissed off some very powerful people.

You don't hire an immortal assassin unless you have deep pockets, deep connections and an even deeper rage.

Ana flipped the picture over, handwritten on the back was a name. Michael Newton.