In the time before men, there were only great beings that came to be known as gods. Such a word is an invention of men and before men came to be, these beings were known to each other only by their names. They knew not what they were, only that the Void had created them from nothing just as it had the plane they inhabited, the Ether World. There were few of them in the beginning, living in a world of qualities much like their own, of beauty and infinite life. They were content in this world and with one another, but they longed for more. In the beginning, they desired to be loved in the same way that they loved the Void for bringing them to life.

So, the eldest and most powerful of these few beings created a new world and he called it the World of Creation, but the men invented a new word for it and so they call it Earth. Men were created by this most powerful being as well, to live in his new world. He created many so that they would multiply and fill the world that is their home. The other beings declared him King of All and he took a wife out of these few beings, the second eldest of them but nearly equal in power to him, and she became Queen of All. The men recognized them all as gods, mighty and worthy of worship. Worship was new to these few beings. They had loved the Void and called it Father, but they had never worshipped it as a god. They reveled in this new thing and the men called them gods and this is what they became.

~~~~

It actually wasn’t all that simple, but it was simpler than what came after that. The afterward will come later though. For now, we focus on what my life was rather than what my life became. The thing about my life as a thief was that it was really all I had known for most of my life. I started a life of thievery when I was about 14 years old, but I had started learning upon being adopted by a thief when I was 8. He only let me start doing jobs when I turned 14 and I was a bit of a natural at it. It’s also helpful to be a baby-faced child when you’re pickpocketing people because no one thinks that the kid with big blue eyes would be stealing right out of their jacket. That never prepared me for what would come later, but, to be fair, I’m fairly certain that nothing could have prepared me for that. Now, at the point I’ll begin telling you this, I was 19 and still a thief, but not for much longer.

~~~~

The year before everything changed, I graduated high school in the middle of my class. I had been relatively smart, but I also needed to keep a low profile to keep thieving. I coasted through high school with A’s and B’s, watched the genius girl with a bright smile and big aspirations become valedictorian, the best linebacker the school had ever seen took salutatorian, and I came out with experience in the gardening club, book club, and the AV club. I’d made friends, but none close enough to keep in contact with. My close friends were the other thieves I spent my time with at the pawn shop and the warehouse.

There was one more thing that I had gotten at the end of high school, and that was a full ride scholarship that I had received by writing the best damn essay they had ever seen. Well, it wasn’t the best ever, but it was the best that year. Before graduation came, I had wanted to go to college, leave thieving behind, and start a whole new life for myself. I had been accepted to a university in New York, states away from Illinois. It would truly be a new start, but I couldn’t do it. I turned it down at the last minute, every last bit of it. I threw away the scholarship, I never went to New York, and I hid all of it from my adoptive father. After all, he was why I stayed.

Desmond Hollenbeck, a life-long thief of 47 years. To be fair, he hadn’t been stealing since he was born. He started when he was 17 so it’s more like 30 years of thievery. Des adopted me out of a foster home when I was 8, which I was thankful for. I had good foster parents, but that, by no means, meant I enjoyed being in the system, especially since my little sister had been adopted right after we were put into the system when she was 4 and I was 5. We were separated and I was a bitter child, even after Desmond adopted me. He kept an apartment to use when the social workers came to check up on me and make sure he was treating me well. When we weren’t in the apartment we were in the underground warehouse next door to his pawn shop. The warehouse had an aboveground extension, but the stolen merchandise and our living quarters were underground. This had been my life with Desmond; stealing things from people’s pockets, breaking into houses for the big hauls, and helping work the pawn shop which was both an honest business, but also a place to pawn off stolen goods. I was a bred criminal, and it bothered me. Still, I kept doing it, all of it, just for him. He had saved me from living my life bouncing from house to house, family to family, and for that I was forever grateful. It would kill him if he knew I had stayed home from college because of him though. He wanted the best for me, like a father, but, in my eyes, he was more of a mentor and a boss than a father.

Now, a year after rejecting college, Des and I were still at the game. He told me where to go and I went, same for all his other workers. We all loved Des and we were loyal to him, but the others didn’t have the connection I had. We were a family, sure, but they had never been grounded by Des or given romance advice as a 15-year-old. Granted, that romance advice was a little on the extreme side for a kid in the middle of his teenage years, but it was still nice of him to try. The others went drinking with Des or acted as his wingman with women he would never call again once he left their bed the next morning. They had adult bonds with Des. My bond with Des was one of a man trying to be a father and a child who denied him that title.

Beyond the thieving and the pawn shop running, I did little else. I was the youngest of the crew so I got sent out for food and late-night drug store runs. I guess I was an errand boy. Des even made me a fake ID when I turned 18 so I could do late-night beer runs when he ran out. To the liquor store, I was Devin Jordan, 23-year-old alcoholic and organ donor. The cashier always commented that my organs were probably shot from all the beer I drank. I shrugged him off. That’s alright, I would say to myself, Julian Devine only drinks one or two a week, his alter ego is the one with the problem.

I guess that’s enough explanation, the rest is soon to come.

This particular Saturday was a normal pickpocket run that Des would send me on before doing big hauls. He wanted to make sure we felt successful before a big job in case we screwed up and didn’t get the stuff we had gone in for. Pickpocket runs were easy things, but you had to be careful. You had to watch their faces, their body language, and, sometimes, catch them in a crowd. If you’re in a crowd of people and your wallet goes missing then it could have been any number of people. A good pickpocket gets what he wants and distances himself from his victim. Take the wallet, get a few feet away, act natural. If it’s a lone target, bump into them on ‘accident’ and keep walking. Don’t set them off. Being awkward is a surefire way to get them to think you’re a creepy weirdo and start checking their pockets. I was past the awkwardness of pickpocketing and had become fairly proficient, not that I was very proud of that fact.

My haul thus far had been three wallets, a dead cellphone, and a $10 bill. Don’t worry, I was just getting started.

Des had made me wake up early that day to get a good head start on it so I could spend the evening planning the big job for the next Saturday. He was all about preparedness. People are also less alert in the morning which means they’ll be less aware of things missing from their pockets until a while later. I was a victim of this morning unawareness and knew I needed a coffee stop before I tried to do anymore. It was getting to the point in the day when everyone else has their coffees and are becoming aware and I needed to match that awareness. So, to get the alertness I needed, I went to my favorite coffee shop which always had a medium sized line, but it was worth the wait.

The line only had three other people in it when I got there so the wait wouldn’t be too long. They were quick behind the counter, another reason for my love of this particular shop. There was another reason I loved that coffee shop, but there was no guarantee she would be there. She always came for the free internet and good coffee. It was a good place for her to write papers for her AP and Honors courses. Still, it would sometimes be a month before I got to see her again, but when she finally showed up, it would brighten any day.

My luck was good that day, but it soon soured.

There were only two of us in line now, me and the guy in front of me. Somehow, she knew me from behind, and when she said my name I could’ve jumped for joy.

“Julian,” She exclaimed. It actually startled me at first, but then I realized who it was. I turned my head to look behind and there she was, her laptop in front of her with a coffee and a bagel covered in cream cheese next to it.

“Lyria,” It came out of me in almost a whisper, “hey.” I had to be the lamest guy on Earth if that was all I had to say after two weeks of not seeing her. To be fair, I had gotten past the awkwardness when pickpocketing, but conversation was a whole different kind of game that I definitely sucked at. The guy in front of me got his coffee and left. I started moving forward while still looking at her and she patted a spot on the table in front of her to show that she wanted me to sit across from her. I nodded and held up a finger to signal for her to wait.

I ordered a hazelnut coffee and a scone as my morning treat. It came out almost as soon as I had finished the word scone. They knew me so well there. I took my order, paid the cashier with a smile, and went to sit with Lyria. Pickpocketing be damned for a while, she was more important.

She was sitting there smiling at me as she tore off a piece of her bagel to eat. We had the same black hair, the same blue eyes, and the same pale skin. She made it all look so much better though. Some people asked if we were siblings. Lyria would roll her eyes and deny the allegation, I would smile and let her handle it. Let them think it, she was the only real connection I had outside of the crew. She had moved into the city only two years before and changed everything when I found her, but she had no idea.

“Long time no see,” I said with a smile. She laughed and ate another bit of bagel. I sneered at the food and she gave me an incredulous look with a raised brow.

She motioned toward my scone, “Please, bagels are far superior to those things you’re always eating.”

I took a bite of my scone and a sip of my coffee before rebutting. “If that’s true, why do I eat scones instead of bagels?” I sat back and crossed my arms with a mean grin.

Lyria simply shrugged, “I guess that just means I’m far superior to you.” She took a long sip of coffee with an air of victory.

“Of course, how can I argue with that sound logic?” I held my hands up in defeat and she laughed at me. I smiled at the sound, “So, what’s the paper this time?” She took a long breath as she turned the laptop around to face me.

Lyria Hartmann was the first thing I read in the top corner. I felt a frown coming on and repressed it as hard as I could. The title of the paper was something about Hamlet, the Shakespeare play. It was obviously a paper for her AP English course she was taking her senior year. She was 18 and would be heading off to college soon, taking all of the best classes that she could take before she went. I knew I would miss her all over again if she left. The last thing I wanted was to make her stay like I had though. She deserved the best.

“I enjoyed Hamlet,” I smiled as I turned the laptop back toward her, “but I never had to write a paper over it.” She rolled her eyes and pulled it closer. She did a couple of things before closing the laptop and pushing it to the side. She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table between us.

“It’s the last paper we have to write. The test is next week and the week after that is graduation. We’re getting out really early this year.” Lyria almost looked sad as she talked about getting so close to graduation. She was much more social than I had been in high school, so it was understandable that she was sad to leave behind her high school friends and go into the world of adulthood. I was sure that they would all be sad to lose her as well.

I leaned back in my seat, “I’ll try to be there for your graduation. Stuff comes up sometimes though, so if I can’t make it then I’ll give you a gift the next time I see you.” Her face lit up when I said those words. It made me smile to see her so excited. Then, her face changed a bit. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist like she was nervous. She shifted in her seat a little and I was able to see her face. Her face was turning red.