Tick

Prologue

London, 1873

The night was cold and dark and the heavy rain made large puddles on the cobble stone streets. The sound of running footsteps filled the alley ways that should have been silent. A small girl, no older than 10, whipped around the corner and entered the alley, her breath quick from the chase. She wore the rough jacket and trousers so typical of the children and thieves of the street. As she tore into the alley she threw herself against the wall and stood with her back to it, listening. After a few moments she pulled the down the dirty cap she was wearing low over eyes and dared to peer around the corner. Just then shouts could be heard in the wind and cries of thief echoed off the stone walls. The girl turned swiftly, the light of the moon catching her blue eyes. There was a light and excitement in them and the girl couldn't help but smile. She did love it when they chased her.

She took off again at a break neck pace, neither shortness of breath or small legs were a hindrance to her. They had always said she was the fastest. They had always said she was the best.

Her path led her twisting and turning through the maze of alley ways until all cries and shouts were long behind her. She dared to slow her pace and soon was walking causally along. This part of town was deserted at this hour and not a living soul could be seen. She took off her cap, revealing a head of messy jet black hair tied tightly into a bun on top of her head. She let out a chiming laugh and she pulled a bag of coins out of her jacket. They had only just previously belonged to some poor rich gentleman who had been quite dumb enough to allow himself to wander by without even caring to watch out for his pockets. The girl doubted that she would have even been caught at all had the old women not leaned out from her window when she did. She didn't think they saw her face but even if they had it was no matter, all poor children looked the same to rich folk anyway.

The girl grabbed a handle of coins from the bag and weighed them carefully in her gloved hand. There was a substantial bit there. She could hear the master now, once again saying how she, Tash, was one of the best in the fleet. None of the other children had her cleverness or her skill. She knew they looked at her with jealous eyes at times but in the end there was honor among thieves and she was highly respected, even by those older than her. Maybe they'd even ask her, as they so often did, how she got to be so good. The answer was a simple one. She liked it.

Tash took another turn down an alley and began heading back to the underground, the place beneath the city streets that served as a hideaway for scoundrels, beggars and the like. She was about halfway down the alley when a groaning sound rose up from the shadows.

Tash froze, the hairs on her arms standing up and her heartbeat quickening. Her eyes darted around the alley but it appeared to be empty except for some heaps of unidentifiable trash along the alley wall. Tash took a deep breath. It was probably just the wind moving the trash around. Nothing to worry about. She shook her head as she continued down the alley, a little annoyed that the noise had scared her. What had she thought it was? A ghost? Everyone knew that they were only stories. It took far more than false tales to scare a thief.

Just as Tash walked by what appeared to be a pile of old bed sheets she heard the noise again. Before she even had a chance to turn her head, the bed sheets transformed into a man and grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. Tash let out a startled gasp and struck out at the man but he held fast. He moved his other hand and grabbed her free arm, pulling her towards him. Tash struggled but it was no use. She was nothing against the man's strength.

"Help. Help me." The man's voice was raspy and weak.

Tash stopped struggling and looked at her attacker. Despite his strong grip, he didn't really look like much. He was an older man, his hair just beginning to gray. The fancy coat he wore was torn and ripped. He looked a Tash with desperate bloodshot eyes. They had a crazy, dazed look to them that set shivers down Tash's spine. The man had been slumped against the wall and had only leaned forward far enough to grab hold of Tash. His skin was a ghastly pale. If Tash had believed in ghosts, this is what they would have looked like.

"Help me. Help me." The man's speech slurred a little as he spoke and he gasped for breath between words. There wasn't any aggression in his words, just a desperate plea.

"I...I...I don't know what you want from me" Tash stuttered, trying to pull herself free.

The man didn't reply but only stared at Tash with empty eyes. He coughed and it shook his whole body. Rattling sounds could be heard with every breath. It was then that Tash noticed the sticky, red stain that was spreading out over his chest. Blood bubbled up on his lips as he continued to cough. It was clear that he had been shot.

Frightened, Tash tried to pull away. "I'm- I'm sorry! I can't help you!" she shrieked.

The eyes once again fixed on her. His grip tightened and Tash could feel his dirty nails digging into her skin. He looked at her closely, his eyes were sharp and not clouded as they had been. As he looked at her his eyes grew harsher and full of anger. He shook her violently and pulled her closer.

"Thief." He said the word quietly at first before raising to a shout "Thief! Thief! Vile child of the street! Help! Thief!"

"No! Stop!" Tash cried, fighting against his grasp "Please!"

She tore herself free and almost fell as she took a few steps away. She struggled to catch her breath as she looked down at her wrists. They were covered with angry red lines left by the man's fingers. She turned to look at the man. He lay flopped against the wall, coughing, exhausted from his efforts. He sat up against the wall and looked at Tash, though she doubted he could see anything, his eyes were so lifeless. Tash knew she should have ran, but she stood frozen in place.

"The first to the north" the man rested his hand on his chest and Tash caught sight of something glittering in his pocket "The second to the south. The third to the east. The fourth to the west. The first-"He coughed again before he composed himself and began muttering under his breath. His eyes fixed on Tash and he began to push away from the wall. "The first to the north. The second to the south. The third to the east. The fourth to the west."

"I don't know what you mean!" Tash yelled, as the man continued to come towards her.

The man paused for a moment and began to trembled, fear and panic gathering in his eyes. Then he began to mumble again. Tash strained her ears to hear what he was saying.

"Tick. Tick. Tick." The man whispered again and again.

"I don't know what you want!" Tash yelled.

"Faith! Faith!" The man shouted. His eyes filled with anger again as he lunged forward on his knees and began to reach for her. "FAITH! FAITH! FAITH!"

Tash backed up against the wall, shaking all over with fear. The man was even closer now and reached out to grab her, all the while shouting. Then suddenly he froze and began to choke. Blood bubbled up and the man's eyes rolled back as he collapsed on to the ground and was silent. Tash watched the man in terror but he didn't move. He just laid on his back, eyes to the stars. Slowly Tash eased away from the wall and looked down at the man. He was still and limp and his eyes were empty and open. There was no breath or life left in him.

Tash turned to leave when something caught her eye. There, in the man's pocket, the glittering object once again made itself know. Tash leaned over the man and hesitated. Something didn't seem right but for some reason she could let the object go. She reached down and pulled it from his pocket. Stepping back, she saw that it was a golden clockwork piece about the size of her palm. Attached to it was a thin gold chain and all along the edges were strange notches and marks. Tash gently slipped the chain around her neck and tucked the piece into her jacket. The master wouldn't be getting this one. Tash would just keep it herself, at least until she understood what it was for. Surely no one would mind.

Quickly she turned and ran out onto the mainstreet and headed for home, the clockwork piece thumping against her chest with every step.