Book One: A Wolf Among Beasts

Chapter One

Eli walks towards her home, trying to pass through the unusually thick crowds. She sighs a little. She hates crowds. She hates them more outside her house. She peers over her sunglasses at the faces, trying to guess what's happening. Then she hears it. Flesh on flesh. And the smell. Blood and fear. She reaches the end of the crowd, in the centre, the eye of the storm, a fight.

"You've got to be kidding me" she growls, her neighbour, a boy, no older then 16 or 17 is being beaten on by four middle age men. That's just not fair. She sighs and nods. She's going to get involved. She steps out of the crowd and into the eye of the storm. "Hey!" She shouts, the four men look to her. "He's just a kid, leave him alone" she scolds, the crowd seems to fall silent, waiting for a responds from the tattooed middle aged men. The tallest, biggest, releases the boy and steps towards her. He's big, like her brother Logan, she knows he'll rely on his pure strength, but he'll be slow.

"What's it to you, Chica?" he asks looking over her, she knows that look, it's a look she's been getting off of men for more then 100 years, it's a look she likes the break off of them. "He owe money, he pay it"

"He owes money for what?" she asks him, not afraid, he seems thrown a little by her. Her eyes find a tattoo on his neck, she's seen them around, knows what they do, she scoffs. "You're a protection ring?" she asks them, already knowing that they are. They exploit the younger members of the community. And they don't care. She looks around and nods a little before throwing a punch, hitting him square across the jaw, his head snaps to the side. She wasn't even trying, not a real punch, a warning.

"Bitch" The short-fat one snaps stepping closer to her, she glances to him out of the corner of her eye, he has a knife, because mister short and fat is too much a coward to get his hands dirty, he needs a weapon. Behind her, tall and greasy shifts pulling a pipe from the back of his trousers, but he's more nervous then the others, he'll bail first. She punches the leader again and he goes down clutching his nose. And she's right about the pipe man. As soon as the last one, with the baseball bat, as soon as he clocks her around the head with it, mister tall and greasy flees. Coward. Eli grabs the baseball bat and yanks it out of his hand, her eyes start to turn yellow as she growls and hits him back with the bat, which shatters on impact, he cries and screams in pain. She feels a knife in her ribs and growls a little hiding the pain, but grabs short and fat by the shirt yanking him closer before she pushes him away again, he hits the dirt and groans curling into himself. She turns back to the ring leader, laying in the dirt, broken nose, possibly jaw too.

"These people don't need your protection" she growls down at him. "They are already protected" she growls at him and he runs off after his friends, she groans and touches her side a little, feeling her healing kicking in. it's uncomfortable and she's covered in blood, both hers and theirs. She looks around as the crowd eye her carefully before a few nod in thanks. She moves to the boy and holds out her hand to him, he scrambles back from her. "I'm not going to hurt you" she assures him, eyes wide a little. "It's over" she tells him, he pulls a roll of money from his pocket and thrusts it at her, she shakes her head. "I don't want your money, kid" she tells him, he doesn't seem to understand her, he crawls forward and pushes the money into her hand. She pushes it back. "No" she shakes her head and touches his chest. "You...you keep it" he stares up at her, now starting to understand, he nods and pulls the money back. Eli turns and walks away, across the street onto the veranda of her home. She leans against the wall and then sinks down to the ground taking a few deep breaths. She closes her eyes, then opens them as she pulls a rag from the back of her shorts, shifting slightly so as not to sit on it. She uses it to clean the blood from her hands and legs and her arms. She pulls out a cigarette as she cleans and presses it between her lips, pausing in her cleaning to light it, before retuning to the tast. Footsteps approach her and she sighs a little before looking up, the boy she'd saved, still bloody and beaten but smiling now stands on her veranda clutching a bottle to his chest.

"Eu que agradeço" the boy tells her holding down a bottle of Cachaça to her. "Por favor" he pleads with her thrusting the bottle at her. "Por favor" Eli nods and takes the bottle. "Eu que agradeço" he tells her backing away and bowing slightly. "Eu que agradeço" he turns and runs home, straight to a pregnant 16 year old, Eli softens slightly watching them kiss, the girl crying in relief, clutching to him. She shakes her head and opens the bottle to take a drink before resting back, pouring the liquid over her hands to clean them. Using the rag to clear away the blood and liquid. This day is just not going the way she wanted, she wanted quiet, doing a bit of work at the local garage, cash in hand, and then a nice lunch at the street vendor, it was a good day. Now it sucks. There are softer footsteps now, hesitant, she ignores them, for now. It's his scent she recognises first. Him. And it washes over her, comforting, soft and warm. She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw. He stands there, deciding how to start, or waiting for her to. She sighs when it drags on before she looks up, she has to squint her eyes to the sun, the bloody rag in her hand forgotten for a moment, a cigarette hanging from her lips as she raises an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" she asks a little harsh, letting it known she didn't want to be disturbed. The figure shifted blocking the sun and she raises her eyebrow. It's the man she followed, the human powerhouse. She pulls the cigarette from her lips.

"I have some medical skill...." he motions to her hands, she smirks and snorts.

"I'm fine" she argues flexing her fingers. "Was no where near as bad as it looked"

"Those men were twice your size" he scolds a little. "And there were four of them" she gives him a look.

"So?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Why?" he asks. "Why would you defend that boy? Why would you risk your own life?"

"Someone has to" she argues pushing herself to her feet. "These people already have nothing, someone has to make sure they keep that nothing...." she shrugs and takes a drink from the bottle in her hand. "And look" she states nodding to the boy, he looks to the boy ad his girlfriend. "His girlfriend is pregnant" she comments. "If I'd not stepped in, they could have killed him, probably would have to make a point, and she'd be alone....she'd be doing that alone...." he looks back at her. "And they all stood and watched" she whispers nodding to the other people on the street. "As if it was some..prized fight" she shakes her head. "I'm not saying doing nothing is wrong" she assures him. "If it's not practical, if....you know you have more chances of getting hurt yourself, hurting someone else, then....don't fight. But if you know you can do something, if you know you can change someone's fate for the better, and you don't...." she looks to him. "What sort of person would that be?" she asks him. "There were at least thirty, forty people here, watching, and four of them..." she shrugs and then heads into her home, leaving him to think. He stares at where she disappeared and then follows, until the door way, she's left it open.

"Can I?" he asks, she looks to him and then nods before she grabs a beer from the small, failing fridge.

"Drink?" she asks back, he shakes his head.

"I don't...drink" he admits.

"At all?" she asks frowning at him. He shakes his head. "Huh...." she shrugs. "I'm Eli" she offers with a small wave. "You know...you're in my house so..."

"Oh...Bruce" he offers back. "Are you sure I can't do something?" he asks.

"I'm really am fine" she answers sitting at the small table, she motions to the seat across from her, he joins her. "You are the only other non-Brazilian I've met in the Favelas" she comments leaning back in her seat, he smiles nervously. "Don't worry" she teases. "There's only one reason to be here....you're hiding, or escaping, or....something, no judgement, no questions" she assures him. "I don't care" he studies her a moment, gauging her sincerity, before he relaxes, leaning forward to rest on his elbows. He looks to her, really looks at her. Long brown hair, light olive skin, hazel green eyes. She's....too attractive for the slums. But she has hard lines and edges, an old pain and grief behind her eyes. This woman has suffered, maybe as much as he has. A kindred spirit even.