“I don’t think so,” I whisper to myself. I grasp the rope and start to climb. Scaling the wall isn’t easy, but climbing is an activity I’m very accustomed to, so it takes me very little time. On top of the wall, I find a second rope and grappling hook leading to the ground below. I make my way down and crouch at the foot of the wall, carefully looking all around me. I see no one outside.
Only a handful of houses have lights on in the windows. It’s late, and even the Thaves have to save their candles and battery powered lamps. I scan the houses, looking for what might be considered the easiest and most lucrative to the usual thief.
I slink to the largest of the homes but find no sign of an intruder. The house beside it has a light in the upstairs window, making it a more difficult target. The next house is quiet and empty. Though I can see hoofprints near the driveway, there is no sign of a horse.
Moving around to the back of the house, I notice an open window on the second floor.
“Too easy,” I whisper.
I enter through a cellar door and quietly climb the steps up to the main level of the house. Looking around at the artwork on the walls and the expensive wooden furniture, I know I would find lots of interesting items to return to more deserving owners, but that is not my current goal. I need to find the rival within these walls and take care of my business.
I step carefully, flattening myself against the wall as my heart thumps in my chest. Turning my head the slightest amount, I see a figure walk across the room. I know immediately that the figure is not one of the inhabitants of the house but the thief I seek. I take a slight step away, pushing myself into a corner to watch this adversary in action.
I’ve chased more than one thief out of my territory before, and I have no reservations about chasing out another. However, if this is someone I’ve encountered in the past, they aren’t going to make it out of the area alive.
I don’t give second chances.
I watch the figure from the corner of the room as I stand completely still to keep from being noticed. I examine the thief’s movements carefully, determining that my rival is both female and dexterous. This is not the first time she’s ransacked a house, and she knows which items are the most valuable and easiest to carry. She removes batteries, silverware, and coins from drawers around the house and places them silently in a satchel around her shoulder. As she grabs another item from the shelf, she glances over her shoulder, and I can see her face in the dim light.
She looks to be in her mid-twenties with high cheekbones and full lips. She has black hair and likely brown eyes, though I can’t be sure from this distance. I haven’t seen her before—I would have remembered. Though I’ve encountered a number of female thieves, she is definitely not one I know.
I follow her silently into the next room. She moves around a plush couch and skims her fingers over a row of books on a shelf. She tilts her head to get a better look at the titles, running her finger over the spines like a blind person reading braille. As she focuses on the books, I make my move.
I take a step away from the wall, closing the distance between us. She places a finger on top of a book and starts to pull it out as I move up behind her.
With quick, silent movements, I reach out and grab the figure in the dark. Half a second later, my hand closes around her throat, and I press the tip of my knife against her back, right at the base of her spine. The book falls to the floor with a muted thud, and I feel the muscles in her throat constrict as she tries to draw in breath.
“Make no sound.”
I pull her backward, mostly to throw her off-balance but also to get her away from the windows and any potentially prying eyes. Thaves tend to watch their own communities carefully, and I don’t need a neighbor sounding the alarm because they’ve seen us. In the hallway, I continue to grip the thief’s throat tightly as I pull her closer to me, the flat of my blade pressed against her spine.
“You are in the wrong place,” I whisper against her cheek, “and you are here at what is most certainly the wrong time.”
I loosen my grip a little to allow her to take a breath. She remains still and doesn’t speak as I shift again, placing my arm across her neck and bringing her roughly against me. I keep my left hand low, but move the tip of the blade from her spine to her back, near her kidney.
“You are going to listen carefully,” I tell her, “and do exactly as I say. If you do not do so, you die. Is that clear?”
She nods her head once.
If she knew me, she would know that my threat is an idle one. If I were to kill her here, I would have no way to clean up the mess before I would be discovered. Thankfully, she doesn’t know me and appears to take my words to heart.
“Take the things you have stolen and place them back in their proper drawers and shelves. Return them exactly where you found them. Understand?”
She nods again, and her shoulders slump in defeat.
“Quietly.” I release her neck and grip the top of her jacket to keep her in check. “Start with that book.”
She glances at me, looking properly contrite and more than a little frightened. I glare at her, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Unimpressed, I push her back to the shelf to return the book. Once it’s back in place, I direct her along as she removes items from her satchel and puts them back where she found them.
As she sets the last item in a cabinet near the front door, I mentally prepare the “this is my territory” speech I have given to other thieves I’ve caught. I loosen my grip on the back of her jacket so I can spin her around and stare her in the face when I order her to leave this area and never return, half hoping she will break down into tears, but I don’t quite get the chance.
In a flash, the thief bends and twists with speed I haven’t encountered before. At the same time, she ducks out of my grasp and spins around. Any contriteness or fear is completely gone from her eyes, replaced by a look of malice that sends a shiver down my spine. I slash at her with the knife in my left hand, but she ducks away with incredible speed, and I almost stumble. As I reach for my second knife, her fist connects with my jaw.
Hard.
I fly backwards into a cabinet and then drop to the floor on my ass. A vase on the shelf tumbles, and I barely catch it in the crook of my elbow before it falls to the ground and smashes into a hundred pieces.
Realizing that I’ve just been caught horribly off