Disclaimer: The characters ALL belong to Cornelia Funke! Not me. Got it? Good.
Authoresses Note: I am posting this to see what happens, I am extremely excited that there is a Thief Lord section and I really want to contribute to it. Please REVIEW and let me know if I should continue.
I know this is very short, but this is just a intro kind of thing.
Catarina Spavento-Getz was tired. She was about sick of being an investigative reporter. Not because she didn't like the job, necessarily, but because she was sick and tired of being stuck on stories about old abandoned buildings. Especially when she was required to research the story of a father who was traumatized by the loss of his son, never renovating an old movie theater. And it was even harder when she didn't have to do any research to know the truth behind the mystery, when she had once called that movie theater home, when her best friend grow up in a matter of seconds.
Catarina often wondered what had ever happened to Scipio. Apparently he used to go to the Spavento- Getz often enough when she had been high school, but she hadn't seen him since she graduated. She was twenty-two now.
She had once asked Victor (her adopted father) how old he reckoned Scipio had become. Victor reasoned it out and said that he supposed that when he first aged himself he would have been about Sixteen. It was hard for Catarina to take in, when she had been nine, he had seemed so much older, but in truth it was only seven years. Back then, she'd been called Hornet. After easing herself into a new life with Ida and Victor, she'd finally taken her name back.
Hornet stopped her car in front of the old movie house. Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car and walked around to the back entrance, the one she most used to using. She had never dreamed of using the front one. For all she knew there would still be garbage all around it.
As she let herself into the little room where they had all slept so long again she sensed someone else there. She quickly pulled out her pen light and peered around.
Sitting with his head down in a corner was a twenty-nine year old Scipio.
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