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Description
1870, London, England

Coby tried to disappear into the shadows as Mother stared down into his smoky gray eyes. The tension on the air was almost unbearable. Mother's mouth screwed upwards as if she'd tasted something foul. Eyes sharp, she turned suddenly, making Coby jump.
"Tonight is the big night, Coby-love. Are you ready to become part of the Family?"
The Family, he thought with intense satisfaction. How he'd dreamt of this night. For three grueling years he'd been trying to prove himself to Mother, waiting for the perfect time to show his talents for coercion. Oh how lucky he was that Mother had favored him above the other sewer-rats that had crawled into the hands of the Family.
"Yes, Mother," Coby said clearly. Holding his head high, he watched Mother circle the large inn room twice. Her hair was a wild disarray of blonde that matched her manic personality. Mother, the head of the Family, a small secretive group of men and women who ran the underground business of London, was an enigmatic if deranged woman.
But none of that mattered now. After fifteen years of searching for a home, Coby would finally find it. His real parents had abandoned him at a young age hadn't bothered to even find a suitable orphanage for him. Just left him on the streets as a young boy to fend for himself. Now, he thought with a grin, he'd have a family.
"This is the one. Remember Coby-love, to have new life, an old one must end." Mother broke his reverie, throwing a small document at him. Barely catching it, Coby's gray eyes scanned across the parchment quickly. The name 'Jonathan Michaels' was centered on the page in almost illegible handwriting that Coby recognized as Mother's shaky script.
He knew what he'd have to do. Initiation into the family was not something that was to be taken lightly. Coby had heard stories, stories of screaming men, women, and children, who had been slaughtered during initiation. To become a real respected member of the Family, someone would have to be killed. Mother's ominous yet simple saying shook through Coby's frail body. New life. How he craved it, he craved being with Mother. He craved the attention she'd give. New life for an old life, it seemed like a fair trade.
"I'll be coming with you."
"Mother, I don't need help, I can do it!" Coby's heart sputtered when he heard Mother's statement. He didn't need watching. None of the other children had Mother go to their initiation. Why did he need her help?
"I've made up my mind, Coby-love."
"Yes, Mother…"
Although Coby longed to prove himself, he knew better than to fight Mother. There was no winning with Mother, and even those who did chose to provoke Mother never left the fight without injuries.
Mother was…sick. A blind man would have been able to see that. Her wild brown eyes could freeze anyone in their tracks; perhaps that was why she was still the head of the Family. Coby had never experienced her brutality first hand, for which he was thankful.
"We should be going now, Coby-love. We wouldn't want to be late." Mother grabbed Coby's hand harshly and yanked up behind her. Stumbling for footing, Coby followed her out the door to the inn and down the stairs to the lobby of the old inn.
As Mother pulled Coby through the old swinging door and onto the cobblestone streets of London reality began to set in. His breath quickened as Mother dragged him deeper into the city. The smell of sewage filled his nostrils as he focused on the sound of their feet slapping against the stone beneath them to slow the beat of his heart to an acceptable speed. It felt as if his blood were about to burst in his veins and flood the rest of his body with adrenaline.
The sounds of the London night filled Coby's ears. In the distance, the sounds of laughter and music coming from a nearby pub mixed with the sounds of clapping hooves against the cobblestone. All his senses seemed to be magnified as he Mother pulled him down an alley way and toward a small apartment.
"Coby-love, here it is. Through the door up the stairs, the man should be alone. If he's not, you know the rules."
"Yes, Mother."
Coby did know the rules. If someone was in the way of the target, they became one. Mother pushed something cold and heavy into his hands before slipping down the alley way. The sound of the splashing died slightly as Mother slipped away. She wouldn't be far away, he knew.
His pulse was sporadic as realized what it was. The unfamiliar gun was awkward in his fingers. Gripping it with uncertainty, he slipped through the unlocked front door.
The home was small and simple. A small wooden table and two chairs decorated the almost bare room. Near the hearth were a small rocking chair and a shawl, the only evidence of a female presence. Holding his revolver at the ready, as he'd seen many others do.
Timidly, Coby made his way past the wooden table and chairs to the small stairwell Mother had told him about. The air was icy in the small apartment and it felt as if it were pressing harshly against Coby's chest. Anticipation welling up in his blood, he placed one foot on the first step.
"Who are you?"
Spinning on his heel, Coby reeled around to face a girl in a nightdress. Her tawny hair was pulled back and hidden by a small cotton bonnet and her eyes focused in on Coby fearfully. Something about this girl was familiar, Coby observed. The curve of her jaw and nose was pulling a long repressed memory from the grottos of his mind.
It seemed that the girl had the same insight as Coby, for her mouth dropped, forming a small 'O' of surprise and her brows arched understandingly.
"Lydia," Coby acknowledged finally. It had been a long time, almost five years. He remembered running and playing with the girl as a young child. She had snuck him food when he had none.
"Nicholas…it's been so long!"
Coby winced. It had been a long time since someone had called him by his real name. It was an almost painful experience to hear it. Since becoming associated with the Family, 'Nicholas' had ceased to exist, as Mother renamed him.
"What are you doing here? I had thought you dead."
Looking a Lydia Michaels now, Coby knew what he'd have to do. Something gripped his chest and his hand tightened around the butt of the revolver. His eyes went hard as they scanned Lydia's tiny body. He couldn't kill her…
Although the laws of the Family stated that your life before the Family was irrelevant, Coby couldn't help but feel he owed Lydia Michaels. She had saved him, well saved Nicholas, the less logical part of his mind reminded him.
Lydia's eyes slid down Coby's arm and landed on the large revolver.
"Nick, what's wrong?"
"A lot."
"Let me help you. Is someone after you? Have you done something bad?"
He wanted to say that he was preparing to but the words caught in his throat. She had always been so trusting, so kind, and so gentle. Maybe Mother would let her live if Coby told her how Lydia had aided him as a child.
"Lydia," Coby said in a hushed whisper, "you need to leave, now."
A confused expression came upon her face and her eyes glanced up the stairs to where her father slept. "Am I in danger, Nick?"
Grinding his teeth at her blatant use of his old name he responded, "Yes. If you leave now, you won't get hurt."
Her eyes widened in naïve understanding. "I must wake my father first."
"No, leave now."
"I can't leave him here, help me wake him. He can help you fight off whoever is after you."
God, Coby thought, as nice as she was, Lydia could be very dense. He honestly had no wanting to end Lydia's life. She didn't deserve it, and then again neither did her father, he acknowledged momentarily.
He heard the door squeaking on its hinges and spotted Mother standing in the doorway, her hair blown about and crazy as always. Her sardonic expression angered Coby for some reason.
"Coby-love," she said grinning, "what do we have here?"
"She is an old friend, Mother."
"Friend? Well, Coby-love, you know my rules."
A large lump formed in his throat and for a moment he couldn't breathe. "Mother, she's very nice. She helped me in my childhood."
Her grin quickly disappeared as Mother approached Coby in long strides. Her long pale fingers made hard contact with Coby's cheek. He registered the throbbing burn of his cheek before he realized that the heavy foreign revolver was no longer in his hand. In horror, Coby look up to see Mother pointing the revolver at Lydia's forehead.
"Nick?" Lydia's voice was high pitch and full of fear.
"His name is Coby. Nicholas is no longer." Mother glared at the girl and Coby was frozen. Mother wouldn't shoot Lydia if he explained the situation…would she?
"Mother, don't! Lydia is an old friend. She helped out when I was younger, before I found the Family."
Mother turned and tossed an uninterested look in Coby's direction. "There is no such thing as 'before the Family', Coby-love. I thought I had taught you so well."
A loud explosion shuttered the entire living space and Lydia flew backward, sending a stream of thick crimson blood flying through the air. Her body fell to the floor limply. Her bonnet fell, sending her hair cascading into a pile on the dirt floor. Lydia's eyes were wide in her last expression of fear.
Coby had never seen Mother so brutal…so unforgiving…so…inhumane. Mother was supposed to be a savior to all the sewer children of London, not a monster.
"It's okay, Coby-love. We'll keep this little secret between the two of us."
Lovingly, Mother wrapped her arms around him, pulling Coby's head against her shoulder. And for the first time Coby felt afraid of her. His heart was beating at an unhealthy speed as he eyed Lydia's wide eyes over Mother's shoulder. How could she? How could he?
"It's time to become part of the Family, Coby-love. Are you ready?"

Description
1870, London, England

Coby tried to disappear into the shadows as Mother stared down into his smoky gray eyes. The tension on the air was almost unbearable. Mother's mouth screwed upwards as if she'd tasted something foul. Eyes sharp, she turned suddenly, making Coby jump.
"Tonight is the big night, Coby-love. Are you ready to become part of the Family?"
The Family, he thought with intense satisfaction. How he'd dreamt of this night. For three grueling years he'd been trying to prove himself to Mother, waiting for the perfect time to show his talents for coercion. Oh how lucky he was that Mother had favored him above the other sewer-rats that had crawled into the hands of the Family.
"Yes, Mother," Coby said clearly. Holding his head high, he watched Mother circle the large inn room twice. Her hair was a wild disarray of blonde that matched her manic personality. Mother, the head of the Family, a small secretive group of men and women who ran the underground business of London, was an enigmatic if deranged woman.
But none of that mattered now. After fifteen years of searching for a home, Coby would finally find it. His real parents had abandoned him at a young age hadn't bothered to even find a suitable orphanage for him. Just left him on the streets as a young boy to fend for himself. Now, he thought with a grin, he'd have a family.
"This is the one. Remember Coby-love, to have new life, an old one must end." Mother broke his reverie, throwing a small document at him. Barely catching it, Coby's gray eyes scanned across the parchment quickly. The name 'Jonathan Michaels' was centered on the page in almost illegible handwriting that Coby recognized as Mother's shaky script.
He knew what he'd have to do. Initiation into the family was not something that was to be taken lightly. Coby had heard stories, stories of screaming men, women, and children, who had been slaughtered during initiation. To become a real respected member of the Family, someone would have to be killed. Mother's ominous yet simple saying shook through Coby's frail body. New life. How he craved it, he craved being with Mother. He craved the attention she'd give. New life for an old life, it seemed like a fair trade.
"I'll be coming with you."
"Mother, I don't need help, I can do it!" Coby's heart sputtered when he heard Mother's statement. He didn't need watching. None of the other children had Mother go to their initiation. Why did he need her help?
"I've made up my mind, Coby-love."
"Yes, Mother…"
Although Coby longed to prove himself, he knew better than to fight Mother. There was no winning with Mother, and even those who did chose to provoke Mother never left the fight without injuries.
Mother was…sick. A blind man would have been able to see that. Her wild brown eyes could freeze anyone in their tracks; perhaps that was why she was still the head of the Family. Coby had never experienced her brutality first hand, for which he was thankful.
"We should be going now, Coby-love. We wouldn't want to be late." Mother grabbed Coby's hand harshly and yanked up behind her. Stumbling for footing, Coby followed her out the door to the inn and down the stairs to the lobby of the old inn.
As Mother pulled Coby through the old swinging door and onto the cobblestone streets of London reality began to set in. His breath quickened as Mother dragged him deeper into the city. The smell of sewage filled his nostrils as he focused on the sound of their feet slapping against the stone beneath them to slow the beat of his heart to an acceptable speed. It felt as if his blood were about to burst in his veins and flood the rest of his body with adrenaline.
The sounds of the London night filled Coby's ears. In the distance, the sounds of laughter and music coming from a nearby pub mixed with the sounds of clapping hooves against the cobblestone. All his senses seemed to be magnified as he Mother pulled him down an alley way and toward a small apartment.
"Coby-love, here it is. Through the door up the stairs, the man should be alone. If he's not, you know the rules."
"Yes, Mother."
Coby did know the rules. If someone was in the way of the target, they became one. Mother pushed something cold and heavy into his hands before slipping down the alley way. The sound of the splashing died slightly as Mother slipped away. She wouldn't be far away, he knew.
His pulse was sporadic as realized what it was. The unfamiliar gun was awkward in his fingers. Gripping it with uncertainty, he slipped through the unlocked front door.
The home was small and simple. A small wooden table and two chairs decorated the almost bare room. Near the hearth were a small rocking chair and a shawl, the only evidence of a female presence. Holding his revolver at the ready, as he'd seen many others do.
Timidly, Coby made his way past the wooden table and chairs to the small stairwell Mother had told him about. The air was icy in the small apartment and it felt as if it were pressing harshly against Coby's chest. Anticipation welling up in his blood, he placed one foot on the first step.
"Who are you?"
Spinning on his heel, Coby reeled around to face a girl in a nightdress. Her tawny hair was pulled back and hidden by a small cotton bonnet and her eyes focused in on Coby fearfully. Something about this girl was familiar, Coby observed. The curve of her jaw and nose was pulling a long repressed memory from the grottos of his mind.
It seemed that the girl had the same insight as Coby, for her mouth dropped, forming a small 'O' of surprise and her brows arched understandingly.
"Lydia," Coby acknowledged finally. It had been a long time, almost five years. He remembered running and playing with the girl as a young child. She had snuck him food when he had none.
"Nicholas…it's been so long!"
Coby winced. It had been a long time since someone had called him by his real name. It was an almost painful experience to hear it. Since becoming associated with the Family, 'Nicholas' had ceased to exist, as Mother renamed him.
"What are you doing here? I had thought you dead."
Looking a Lydia Michaels now, Coby knew what he'd have to do. Something gripped his chest and his hand tightened around the butt of the revolver. His eyes went hard as they scanned Lydia's tiny body. He couldn't kill her…
Although the laws of the Family stated that your life before the Family was irrelevant, Coby couldn't help but feel he owed Lydia Michaels. She had saved him, well saved Nicholas, the less logical part of his mind reminded him.
Lydia's eyes slid down Coby's arm and landed on the large revolver.
"Nick, what's wrong?"
"A lot."
"Let me help you. Is someone after you? Have you done something bad?"
He wanted to say that he was preparing to but the words caught in his throat. She had always been so trusting, so kind, and so gentle. Maybe Mother would let her live if Coby told her how Lydia had aided him as a child.
"Lydia," Coby said in a hushed whisper, "you need to leave, now."
A confused expression came upon her face and her eyes glanced up the stairs to where her father slept. "Am I in danger, Nick?"
Grinding his teeth at her blatant use of his old name he responded, "Yes. If you leave now, you won't get hurt."
Her eyes widened in naïve understanding. "I must wake my father first."
"No, leave now."
"I can't leave him here, help me wake him. He can help you fight off whoever is after you."
God, Coby thought, as nice as she was, Lydia could be very dense. He honestly had no wanting to end Lydia's life. She didn't deserve it, and then again neither did her father, he acknowledged momentarily.
He heard the door squeaking on its hinges and spotted Mother standing in the doorway, her hair blown about and crazy as always. Her sardonic expression angered Coby for some reason.
"Coby-love," she said grinning, "what do we have here?"
"She is an old friend, Mother."
"Friend? Well, Coby-love, you know my rules."
A large lump formed in his throat and for a moment he couldn't breathe. "Mother, she's very nice. She helped me in my childhood."
Her grin quickly disappeared as Mother approached Coby in long strides. Her long pale fingers made hard contact with Coby's cheek. He registered the throbbing burn of his cheek before he realized that the heavy foreign revolver was no longer in his hand. In horror, Coby look up to see Mother pointing the revolver at Lydia's forehead.
"Nick?" Lydia's voice was high pitch and full of fear.
"His name is Coby. Nicholas is no longer." Mother glared at the girl and Coby was frozen. Mother wouldn't shoot Lydia if he explained the situation…would she?
"Mother, don't! Lydia is an old friend. She helped out when I was younger, before I found the Family."
Mother turned and tossed an uninterested look in Coby's direction. "There is no such thing as 'before the Family', Coby-love. I thought I had taught you so well."
A loud explosion shuttered the entire living space and Lydia flew backward, sending a stream of thick crimson blood flying through the air. Her body fell to the floor limply. Her bonnet fell, sending her hair cascading into a pile on the dirt floor. Lydia's eyes were wide in her last expression of fear.
Coby had never seen Mother so brutal…so unforgiving…so…inhumane. Mother was supposed to be a savior to all the sewer children of London, not a monster.
"It's okay, Coby-love. We'll keep this little secret between the two of us."
Lovingly, Mother wrapped her arms around him, pulling Coby's head against her shoulder. And for the first time Coby felt afraid of her. His heart was beating at an unhealthy speed as he eyed Lydia's wide eyes over Mother's shoulder. How could she? How could he?
"It's time to become part of the Family, Coby-love. Are you ready?"