((I've only posted up to chapter four because thats all I have finished, edited and typed, this still needs more editing. The chapters are very short.)) Chapter One: Stranger Do you have time? No. The answer to that question is a resounding no. I'm in jail now, but I knew the answer the day they came to take me away. I was ranting without speaking and I scared them, I had no time and still I would not just wait for them to close in on me. There is no time and there are no free decisions. Only influences. The influence of intuition, the influence of every look, the influence of being alone, being afraid, the influence of the unknown come to haunt you. I should know, its influenced me since I was eight. I should know. I grew up to eight a pampered child of penthouse parents. We were the upper middleclass. Which all changed in a frightening flash. All I remember of the accident can be summarized in four words. Light and then dark. I woke up surrounded by surrounded by white with words being hissed back and forth like snakes attempting to yell. I gathered I was the only survivor before they heard me whack the wall with my hand, I didn't bother trying to speak. They look at me as though I'm a ghost or something worse, more disgusting, something to get rid of. It reminds me of now. I won't be here long, we never are. I'll most likely die at sunrise as the dawn creeps golden across the ponds and the flowers open to warmth... a warmth I long to feel once more. I'll never get my second chance. "Griar, Alice." The therapist read off the name in the crowded office. I came across the room, skinny arms crossed across my dark blue sweater, feeling skin stretched over the ribs below. This was new, I'd never been so thin before. It had been some five years since the crash and my thoughts were still like scrambled eggs. She nodded to me, she already knew I could not or would not speak. I'd been shunted from hospital to hospital, therapist to therapist. I observed the room was in grays, blues, and greens with stained wood furniture. This woman seemed to blend in, green scrubs over white turtleneck. A doctor therapist? Her short brown hair seemed to go everywhere at once, and yet none of it stood on end with static. Her eyes matched her scrubs. It seemed to annoy me. She asked me, while handing me a pad of paper to write on, "What do you prefer to be called?" Al, was what I wrote, I'd never been called that in my life. "Nice to meet you, Al. I'm Elizabeth Telloro, people call me Liz." I wondered why she was telling me this. I wasn't going to call her anything. I flipped the end of my braid, blonde and curled. Stupidly annoying. Everything was annoying. I stared at her flatly with clear blue eyes. I wanted black dye and red fake contacts. I hated all these annoying calm colors. I wanted red and black. I was a teenager, alone, stuck among these dimwitted people. I took the notebook and wrote quickly in spidery handwriting: I would like to go to my room. "Of course, you and your stuff will need to get settled in." A few minutes later my 'stuff,' nothing more than a ramshackle of salvation army clothes. No black, no red. A few scrambled hair and writing accessories were a myriad of color upon the dark wood of what would be my dresser for a while. My books, all five of them along with my notebooks and schoolbooks, were in the small bookcase beside my bed. I sat on the bed and waited, she was coming back, it was only seven p.m. and we had all of tomorrow to plan. Goody. I went into her small office. Gee, they didn't give her even as much space as my bedroom. Could anyone live in this sort of captivity? Apparently. The wall was bare, but her desk was plastered and laden with pictures of friends and family and drawings from those orphans she'd helped. Now I don't talk, but I can remember the conversation well, I didn't look at her once. "We've arranged for you to take A.P. and Honors courses," she said pleasantly, looking up with a smile, everyone liked assuming I was intelligent and could go far. I rolled my eyes, had nothing else better to do, so I did well in what they considered schooling. Technically with the courses I was taking I was either a freshman in college or a senior in high school. I was one bored thirteen year old. She tried again, "We don't think you'll be moving much more. This might be your home. Isn't that great?" I just looked at the whiteness of her walls. When the conversation ended I was sure to just touch my boot to it and leave a dark smudge. I got back to my room. Read a chapter in The Way Between the Worlds by Ian Irvine, a favorite of mine, and then just randomly started tossing my pen into the air, catching it as it twirled down, like a thought train crashing, just stopping and not going any more. It fell near the window and something outside caught my eye. Immediately I knew it was a person, but it disappeared as quick as a shadow, taking my mind with it... longing for adventure. I watched all night, and a few times it came back, just staring at me, our eyes locked through the tinted glass and darkness. Chapter Two: Escape The silence here drove most mad, because even if you were allowed or able to speak there was no one to reach. Separated by white iron walls which reverberated the pour souls' own pained whimpers. Torture and cruelty. So much can be inflicted by doing nothing. I was immune. I never cry. Two weeks ago I saw three of my best, my only, friends shot before me. I never shed a tear. Maybe that's why I am called Stone Lady. But then I was nothing like G.G., Nightshader, Flayer, and the rest of the group. Demerrit. Boss. "Al, get up, breakfast." My first day. Liz woke me up. I shoved my feet out of the bed and clambered to my feet, eyes still shut, I heard the door close. I brushed my kinky hair, easy since I slept in the braid. I re-braided it--had to find a shower soon. I looked to the window where my strange friend had sat the night before. Nothing. I pulled on a dark, forest green hooded sweater and some dark brown flares. I felt like a tree... maybe a shrub. I shoved chap stick in one pocket, extra elastics in the others, and shoved my hands in the front pocket of the sweater. I hung my head and let the hood fall forward. I stumbled out the door. The cafeteria was throbbing with life and color, I wanted to scream. The sounds filled my ears and a headache began to pound behind my temples. Liz caught me by the arm just as I felt the impulse to run. I glared at her and pulled away angrily. With one hand barely touching my shoulder she led me over to a table that was quietly talking. "Hello, girls this is Al, she's new," Liz said, seeming to hope that she wouldn't be in charge of the situation very long, but I didn't help. They smiled and nodded politely. The eldest, a girl with short black hair and cattish green eyes, spoke first, "I'm Sandra, this," she gestured to a short girl with dishwater blonde hair, she definitely seemed the gossip, I was sure I'd heard her talking before "is Karen, and," she turned to a striking redhead with bright blue eyes, a lot of clothes that were too big for her, showing as little skin as possible, and a shy manner, "Eloise." I could guess what each had been through. Sandra the orphan since birth, Karen the runaway who wouldn't tell where she came from, and Eloise, raped and left to die. That was life for you, brutal and uncaring. I wondered if they could read me just as easily. I nodded a greeting and had a seat, feeling Liz fade into the background. Karen spoke suspiciously, "Kind of quiet aren't you?" I took out my piece of paper, I don't talk. They passed it around and nodded understanding. They weren't stupid enough to ask me if I couldn't or wouldn't, that didn't matter. "So what's your name? I mean Al isn't your actual first name..." Sandra tried to start small talk. All I replied was Alice Griar. She nodded and the rest of breakfast passed in silence except for them eating their cereal and me eating a muffin. Just like the other times. The rest of the day was classes and lunch, which passed in a similar manner to breakfast. Eloise had only spoken quietly. I found out Sandra had been here from birth, seventeen years, she couldn't wait to get out the next year. Karen had been here for three years, since she was twelve. Eloise was the newcomer, here for six months, the same age as Karen. I was the youngster. I still have that knack for sensing people. Knowing where they were and being able to guess what was in their past. The guard who brings my food woks here under blackmail. If he could he would raise a rally, set prisoners free, this wasn't right. It was like the prisoner war camp he had been in during the Japanese-American Industry War. But between his family and his country he chose his family. I didn't learn all this from sensing--he knows I don't talk. For the next few days I learned that others liked people who didn't talk and had an intense expression that showed little else. They told me horror stories, their stories, and vacantly I listened, not responding. I leered more than one person should ever learn. I did my studies, I got used to the cafe, I got bored. I looked for the thing at my window, sometimes he was there, rain, wind, or snow futilely attempting to knock him aside. In the quiet of the midnight we would watch each other and come to know one another silently. We knew each other better than I knew my own parents. Then in a slight movement he was gone and I would be forced to blink several times to believe it. Then I curled up and went to sleep, dreaming of my mystery friend. I could sense him, and still I knew nothing about him. I remember that bothering me especially. Everyone inside had told me their story, but the one person's story I wanted to know was hidden from me. Sometimes I would see him lead others back and forth, I had no idea where they were going. They were easier to sense, yet still they were more obscure to me than him. They didn't matter. A few more typical days went by, when I didn't see my friend I worried. Coming back to my room eagerly having not seen him for three or four days I frowned slowly. Everything was frozen in my mind. Something was wrong, I could sense his presence, but it was not outside my window--the window was open. I might have, possibly should have, maybe I could have screamed. As it was, when he leapt in front of me, from where I do not know, I just dropped my books. I balled my hands into fists, swiping at him to hit merely a glancing blow. He moved sideward, dark eyebrows lowered over black eyes, hair a mess, he looked pained. This wasn't part of his plan. I began to lower my fists, we knew each other, and then we heard footsteps. I motioned for him to leave, but instead he leapt towards the window carrying me with him. I was too afraid to kick him, if he fell we both fell. I heard someone in my room and then it was gone, replaced by the sounds of night and our forbidden breath into this nightscape that seemed wild and belonged to no one. He did not touch the ground and I felt fear every time he dropped. After the long day on meager fare this was just what I needed. I fainted barely ten minutes into the rendezvous. I woke in bonds of rope. Chapter Three: The Assassins I was alone and I struggled, the hard concrete hurting me, my bones cutting through my skin it felt. I slashed wildly, frustrated. Finally I lay still and waited. The room was dimly lit by the wan, fading light of a small window. I could hear the noises of the street, it seemed to come from somewhere above me. On a faded corner rug lay a grayish red elecat, asleep, but I knew if I'd broken my bonds it would have been upon me, teeth in my face, ears swiveling, busy tail down, gold eyes fixed upon my pale blue ones. Damn. Trapped. I sighed, remaining facing the elecat. "I see you've met my pet, and known him for what 'e is," it was my friend speaking. The betrayal burned, I spat at his feet. I noted he was a native westerner, he said elecat with a hard 'c'. Easterners said it with a soft 'c' and a long 'e'. People who traveled greatly said it the western way, but with a soft 'c'. I had traveled a lot, I knew of all this. I waited for him to continue, glaring heatedly. "I'd let you go, but you see you'd try to escape and that wouldn't be a good idea. Do you talk?" he inquired noting my silence. I shook my head. He shrugged and took out a jack-knife. "Since you can't scream I guess its all right. Don't move." I didn't, not with that knife in his hands. As soon as my hands and feet were free I leapt up, kicking him in the jaw. He came at me, trying to contain me, but I was too fast and ducked under his arm, grabbing the knife desperately. He yelled something I didn't understand, good pounding in my ears. Suddenly there was a whole band of darkly clad assassins surrounding me. One was wiry and small, she was some sort of acrobat. She had no weapons. Another lady, taller, darker, and meaner-looking held two guns, each pointed with deadly accuracy, one at my head and they other at my stomach. A wiry man with a moustache held five daggers, three in his left hand and two in his right. I wouldn't have been surprised to see them in his toes or out his ears. A short Spaniard had a dart gun aimed at my right leg, but he smirked, he didn't look intimidating. Finally someone who looked like a young boy at least two years younger than me walked up and took the dagger from my hands. I dropped to one knee in bewilderment at my helplessness yet again. My friend said softly, "You are good with weapons, I'm glad I wasn't using a gun on you or I might be dead now." He paced. I didn't want to find out which one of us would have been dead. Heh. Now I look back at that day as my first true step into a different world, the other times merely glimpses. When I was merely good with weapons. Naturally of course--they don't teach weaponry in an orphanage. That was my first, and one of the only times, I ever saw the leaders of the group together. I didn't know I would be joining them shortly. As it was we all sat down, I with my pen and notebook. Who are you? My friend replied, "I'm known as Demerrit, we all are known as SilShades--it used to be Silver Shadows," he said with a chuckle. The acrobat said, "Flyer at yer service!" she pronounced the 'i' with a double 'e' sound. Strange pronunciation... The gun lady spoke in a smooth contralto, I could imagine her as some gutsy singer, "I am G.G.--and we're not all here, we're only the leaders." "Biggest assassins guild in the city--possibly all cities--" he was cut off by a glancing blow with their eyes from the others, though I was rather curious. "I am Nightshader, the poison expert." He bowed with a flourish. The acrobat, Flyer, giggled, "Also known as Sir Talk Forever!" Now she was more serious, "We each have our own fields of expertise." The wiry, dark-haired man said in his low, monotone voice, his moustache moving strangely, "I am Dag, short for dagger." I could guess his specialty. "This is my brother--" The one who looked like a child interrupted, "I'm Tom, as in Tom Thumb." I looked at him stunned as he went on, "I'm twenty-three." The others seemed to act as if this was normal, I was confused. He said, explaining patiently though it was apparent he despised doing so, "Its a disease, I'll look this age to my dying day." I could now tell he was older than he appeared, more serious, thin wrinkles around his eyes from years of squinting, his taste in clothes... a business shirt and black pants. Finally I could write again. Those can't be real names, those are your nicknames! I handed it to the assassins. "So?" G.G. asked. It was apparent she was second in charge only to Demerrit. She stood with her arms crossed. I shrugged and wrote Then call me Al. Demerrit grinned, "The elecat is Jade." Just like that we were friends again. I was going to be one of them, I was determined. They had given me freedom, and I could give them all I knew. Teach me. I threw the paper at his feet. He chuckled and nodded, then he left. Only Flyer remained, staring at me with cattish Sage eyes, wispy light brown hair back in a ponytail. Suddenly she charged me and leapt over me, up a wall, and through a hatch I hadn't really noticed, "C'mon silly. Hafta learn to balance before you can swing with the top guns. Lets start with climbing and martial arts..." I got the picture, she wasn't going to stop and wait until I got up, she'd just keep on going. I dropped my pad and pencil and tentatively climbed the walls. When I got up there she was still talking. "Now stand like this. Okay." She showed me several moves that I had to repeat. At first it was pretty easy, and occasionally we had a break. I looked about me at the old factory turned into a climbing gym, and now even that was out of use and in some disrepair. She seemed to talk constantly. "I see you've noticed our quarters, this is where we train the newbies. No one ever comes here, though the police want to catch us terribly." She giggles girlishly again, I wonder how old she is. It doesn't seem to annoy me near as much as it should have. "I bet you're wondering why no one comes? Can't say I know for sure, but its rumored that Demerrit's or G.G.'s mother or father used magic. Who knows which. Of course the rumor is vague, but we think its one of them and their family." She shrugs. "Back to work." By the end of the day I could easily climb the seventy foot wall--there were no ropes, I'd learned fast. My muscles were sore and I wondered how the short skinny 'Flyer' could do it so effortlessly. Finally she yawned and said, "I think its time for a catnap." I started downstairs, but she shook her head, "Nuh-no, now you're a guest." She led me to a small, comfortable room. I longed for my junk. I was surprised to see a small window. The gray rain pounded down heavily and my stomach growled. The relentless water flooded the alley my window faced, looking down upon it. No trees, no flowers, no sun. Shades of gray. I wanted color. I heard talking, and then silence again. The torrential rain felt part of me. I wanted to see such things outside of old books, novels, and magazines. It seems so much like now, except I was just starting to feel happy then. Now I begin to despair. My stomach is empty, there is no sign of the sun. I hear people talk and yet I'm not part of their world. I don't exist. Yet. Chapter Four: A mission These days became rather foggy, though I remember I was being trained. Tom taught me the trade of a con-artist. G.G. taught me every kind of gun there was. Dag of course taught me darts and daggers. Nightshader taught me the secrets to a good poison--he also couldn't keep his mouth shut, I learned some of the history around these people. They'd been trained against being sensed. I learned bits and pieces. G.G. and Demerrit had grown up together street urchins that made it into a public school by forgery and trickery. Dag and Tom of course grew up together, both college graduates with a good degree. When their parents were killed by a gang they joined the assassins to hunt the gang. He didn't know about Flyer, except that she had lost someone they had all known and cared for. He didn't want to talk about that yet. He grew up in a Spanish slum, dropped out of school to make bombs and poison, and he left home. Those were the leading six. The rest I rarely saw, Demerrit practically adopted me. They were training me to take the position of the one lost, I decided. Anyway, I'd been borrowing Flyer's, Demerrit's, or G.G.'s clothes, most of them were too short or too baggy, though, and we made a plan to get my stuff. Going back to the orphanage worried me. I found out we weren't as far as I thought. We descended into the enclosing satin blackness swirling with gray smog. I stifled a cough and felt the others tense and hold their breath. It was Demerrit, Flyer, Tom, and I. A few scouts had gone ahead and reported back. Everyone was asleep. Demerrit said from ahead, "Psst! Al, Tom, in here. Flyer, you go through the Cafe, we're going through Al's room. My room was dark and bare like I'd expect. My books had been moved to the library where they were collecting dust, my accessories and clothes to storage. I'd probably leave most of the clothes, but I needed my books and elastics, my French braid was becoming ragged. One pair of clothes that fit might be good, though. I lead the way now, the white halls drenched in pale, unpredictable shadows of gray and silver. I was so silent I could hear through the doors the soft sounds of restless, desperate sleep. We came to the storage, and finding it locked we had Tom pick the lock, hurrying in and grabbing what we wanted. We crept along the empty halls when we heard it; Flyer had found storage and an alarm filled the building. We ran back towards my bedroom, but already it was too late. Panicked orphans and teachers and social workers filled the halls, stampeding for the doors, no order, overwhelming crowd. No one cared for anyone but themselves as they pushed and shoved their way through, surging forward toward the outside world. I pressed my back against the cold wall. Noise grew deafening. Police came then, loud and sure. They knew it was us, the assassins, SilShades. They didn't even look at the swarming people, they shot. I didn't want to when I saw what it caused, but I dodged. It all seemed like slow motion, I can see it to this day. The spinning blackness like some vile insect entering Sandra's body. Of all people. I knelt beside her as she fell, seeing the pain in her eyes, never to know freedom. I couldn't speak, unspilt tears blurred my own eyes. I felt myself collapse into Demerrit's arms and tossed to someone by the window. Stars above were hidden by a veil of soot that made the night blacker than coal. It was as though they were mourners whom had dawned their blackest attire. My mind still holds on that pale shocked face, her hand reaching for some comfort, and upon finding my hand tossing it away. My friend was gone. I still see her haunted eyes, and I never could cry. She is part of me, I must carry her helpfulness and eagerness forward. That night I had to help the others, if I could. My stuff tossed aside grimly, the six leaders in the room. Grim was the most cheerful word you could use. Demerrit paced, red-faced and angry, with what we could not tell. G.G. had an arm over Flyer's shoulder, trying to comfort her though Flyer pushed her away. Flyer wept like a child and I could not understand it. Dag sat tense and unmoving. Nightshader had his head in his hand. I sat by the elecat, Jade, digging my hand into her soft fur. Finally Demerrit burst, "Four dead! Ten injured!" he yelled angrily. Daring us to question that it was our fault. One of our men died, four of ours injured. The others all innocents--we all felt bad. I wrote on my paper, But you are assassins, I thought-- G.G. took the paper from me and shook her head. She didn't want Demerrit to see, but it was too late, so hastily she explained. "Dear, we're more... thieves. Artists. We work silently, as a team, We don't want anyone to be hurt. We're not monsters." G.G. said it softly, Demerrit's eyes were blazing. Flyer suddenly spoke, "No, the monsters are the police." She cried into her hands for a second and then went on, "Reminds me of Ralos. That was a hard lesson," Flyer sniffled. I began to feel as though I should never have dodged the bullet, Even Nightshader was sullen. He didn't look up. Everyone looked to Flyer. It was apparent they all knew who Ralos was, and she told the story the best. It was going to be the one I'd waited for after Nightshader wouldn't tell me, and now I dreaded it. Flyer began, though tears still rolled down her face, "As was our custom Ralos and I were walking the city, getting the lay of the land, its a big city. I wore high heels and a very nice dress, pretended Tom was my son and Ralos husband." She giggled slightly through her tears as memories returned. "He was African American so just to be safe Tom had some added coloring... it was fun putting make-up on him--" Demerrit gave her a look that meant to get on with it, "Oh how the light glinted off the traffic that day, the black asphalt seemed to be flowing. Ralos had such a sense of humor, but more was his sense of duty to humankind." she wiped away a tear, I saw others in the room shift uneasily. "While, that day," she continued, "police were impatient with people, the sweat and swears ran like flood water it was so hot. They were yelling and pulled a gun at some teenagers. Ralos stepped in front. They could have stopped, but now they wouldn't." Tears streamed down the faces of Flyer and G.G., Demerrit turned away, facing the wall, Tom looked at the ground, Nightshader looked sick--as though he'd taken his own medicine, Dag shuffled his feet. I sat stonily, my face growing paler, I knew what would happen next, but I'll never forget it the way Flyer told it. She took a shuddering breath of air, "Sorry. Its just so wrong. The police got a glint in his eyes and pulled the trigger. He shot Ralos dead. He said it was an accident, he said he couldn't stop, his finger slipped. But as Ralos lay there bleeding I sat with him, choking on my tears." She sobbed, her hair clinging to her face, her whole body shook. I envied her for having tears to cry. "We keep his teachings on the wall," I looked and to my surprise saw books I'd read. "Ray Andralos, his pen name." She finished and there was silence. This litany was to remind them they had faced pain before and survived. It worked. And why they could not go back: police and government were corrupt, mankind was on its own.

thats really good!! if you dont mind, i'll add to it... the next morning began with flyer looking down at me. i had passed out last night with exhasution and she must have carried me back to our hideaway. "good morning" she said. as i reached for the pad of paper beside the couch, i felt a small tingling in my throat. as i put my hand up to my windpipe a sudden urge compelled me to form my lips and force a breath of air out. as i did, a word came bubbling out of my throat. my eyes grew wide as i tried it again and again and found... i could speak!! flyers eyes had a hint of happiness in them as she spoke to me. "you are one of us now. a silshade. you can speak." i looked at her as demmeritt showed up. "i can really speak!!" i shouted, not accustommed to controlling the volume of my voice. i jumped up to hug and thank the two of them, but as i did, nightshader rushed into the room i had slept in the past night. "we've got trouble!" as nightshader said this, there was a great pounding on the door of our secret place. my heart pounded as we ran to the window and saw who it was....

Errr... I wasn't really going to go that direction as I actually have seven chapters done (when I find the notebook from moving). I appreciate the compliment and the outer perspective on how things should go though it isn't how the chapters begin in this book normally. They usually start at the end with her thinking back, in the jail. I'll consider some of your writing when I revise it... new thoughts just seem strange to me I suppose. ~Song

oh ok sorry to have imposed!! oops well its probably better without my ideas anyway because im not that good a writer