The Outcast, Chapter 1

“Just give up the money and I won’t hurt you.”

“I can’t. I need my money or I-“

The mugger interrupted his potential victim. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear your sob story. Give me your damn money!” He took a step forward and gestured with his dagger.

Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. His eyes flicked between the mugger and his blade. The alleyway was deserted and the streets were mostly empty by this time of night. Grimy brick walls on either side prevented an easy escape. “No.”

“Then I’ll take it from your corpse.” The mugger advanced on his target.

“The man’s gotta eat, doesn’t he?” A voice floated out of the shadows.

As the mugger whipped his head around at the voice behind him, his victim had turned and began running away. “Lousy wretch! I guess I’ll take your money instead.”

The newcomer, dressed in a hooded cloak, spread his arms out to the sides and replied, “You’re welcome to try.”

A growl escaped the mugger’s lips as he launched forward into an attack. The hooded figure sidestepped the lunge and grabbed the man’s wrist as it went by. Momentum carried the mugger into the path of the cloaked man’s outstretched leg. Air rushed out of the cutpurse’s lungs as he landed in a heap.

Before the criminal could get to his feet, the vigilante planted his knee in the man’s back. He wrenched the man’s arm back and grit his teeth at the sharp crack of bones splintering and tendons snapping. Screams echoed off the crumbling masonry of the alleyway, but help wasn’t coming tonight.

“Stop preying on the weak. If I see you again, I’ll break the other one. Understood?”

Satisfied with the criminal’s choked reply, the hooded figure let him up. He looked back as the cloaked figure threw back his hood. Murky yellow eyes shined in the moonlight and silvery fur parted as the vigilante bared several sharp, canine teeth. His ears flattened against the top of his head and a deep growl rumbled in his throat as spittle dripped from his muzzle.

The thief turned and fled from the beast. Satisfied that he would not return, the wolf-like creature’s lips turned up in a smile. He flipped his hood back up before heading out of the alley. The sun would be up soon and he didn’t want to be skulking around the city as the local business owners got ready for their day.

Luckily, his apartment was only a few blocks away. His claws clicked on the uneven cobblestones as he walked. Any shoes he wore had to be custom made, and even then, they were uncomfortable and didn’t allow for much freedom of motion, so he preferred to go barefoot.

He rounded the corner and slipped into the alleyway beside The Well. The bar was closed by this time and all the drunks had wandered home long ago, but he didn’t want to take any chances. After sliding his key into the lock and opening the door, he took the steps two at a time up to the apartment. Not long after he had stepped inside and hung his coat on the rack did he hear the floorboards creak behind him.

Standing in the living area was a broad-chested man with shoulder-length hair and a stern jaw. Large, calloused hands rested on his hips as he narrowed his dark eyes. He spoke in a low voice. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

The bipedal wolf’s shoulders slumped and he let out an exasperated breath. “Sylas, come on. You can’t talk to me like I’m a child anymore.”

Sylas’ thick, dark eyebrows went up. “’Sylas?’ You’re too old to call me Dad, as well, are you? I thought I raised you better than that, Sebastian.”

“I prefer Kain, Dad.” Kain drew out the last word with a shake of his head. “And you raised me to be subservient to no one, not even you. I go where and do what I please.” He crossed his arms and lowered his snout, shooting daggers at his father.

“I suppose you’re right.” A sly grin crept onto Sylas’ stubbled face and he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “But you haven’t answered my question. You can’t possibly think you were going to pull the wool over my eyes, did you?”

Kain crossed the foyer and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs.  He dropped his head and stared at his paws. “No. But I didn’t think you’d find out so quickly.”

“I’m your father. It’s my job.” Sylas chuckled softly and joined Kain in an opposite chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kain chuffed. “’There goes Sylas Kain, terror of the high seas turned cutthroat investment broker. Did you know his freak progeny is some kind of do-gooder?’ Yeah, that would have gone well.”

“I don’t care what other people think about me. And you could never do anything that would make me think less of you. You’re my son. I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. Do you need money?”

“It’s not about money. If it was, I wouldn’t be doing it. These people can’t pay. They need help and no one will lend a hand. Those bastards in North Hightower certainly won’t, and everyone here is too busy worrying about where their next meal will come from to bother with anyone else. If not me, then who?” Kain lifted his head and met his father’s eyes.

Sylas held the gaze for what seemed like an eternity before speaking. “No more sneaking out. No more cloaked avenger routine.”

“But-“ Kain started, but Sylas cut him off.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right. You’re far more intimidating without the hood, and people need to know you’re out there, where to find you. You need to hang a shingle. You need an official presence. I know some people that can help with that.”

Anger and confusion gave way to understanding. “But what about your business? Your reputation?”

“I told you, I don’t care about what the Northerners think, or I’d be living up there. The people you’re trying to help will understand, and if not, I’ll survive.” Sylas placed his hands on his knees and stood up. “Now, I need some sleep, and I think you do, too.”