Hi, it's ShaedowCat! I've got a new story here. It's called Stolen. Name may change at a l8r date, so don't keep searching for it if u like it.

I had a bit of writer's block while writing all That Matters, so I just banged out this. Will upd8 if ppl like it.

Ne suggestions on where 2 go from here are appreciated.

Luv ShaedowCat


Rebecca walked down the sidewalk, the squirming toddler in her arms. She shifted him so he was sitting on her left hip, his little legs wrapped around her waist, & he stopped wriggling. His only movement was to tangle one tiny hand in her sweater.

She glanced at him, then looked away quickly as his bright hazelly eyes connected with hers.

"You're lucky, kid," she told him, turning the corner onto another street. She could hear in the distance the bells of the church, bells calling those poor sorry idiots to come and pray for a "Messiah" that would never come, and she followed the tolling of the bells.

Feeling a need to justify herself, even if it was to this little child, just barely two-years-old, she went on.

"I have a daughter your age, or close. I wouldn't kill her, so I won't kill you." And that was the truth of it. The heartless Assassin had found that she did, in fact, have a heart. She couldn't kill one titchy little kid because she happened to have two of her own. To kill him would be to drive an athame into her youngest daughter's heart, too, and that she would never - could never - do.

She was walking. She could shimmer, but she wasn't going to. For one thing, it would make it harder for her employer to track her if she walked. For another, little children and babies didn't take well to shimmering unless they had been born to it, like her little Phoenixes. This poor kid had shivered for five minutes straight after one tiny shimmer to three blocks away from his house. She was surprised he hadn't gone straight into shock, but it seemed this tiny tot was made of stronger stuff than she thought.

But then, you would be, wouldn't you? She asked him silently as she walked. The progeny of a Charmed One, you are. And an Elder. She felt a tiny pressure on her left shoulder. She glanced to her left, and saw that the kid had laid his head on her shoulder. She swallowed hard and kept walking.

Fifteen minutes alter, she was standing outside the Church she scorned. Kneeling, she disentangled herself from the toddler's grip and set him on his slightly unsteady feet on the great stone steps. She straightened his clothes and brushed his longish dark brown hair out of his face.

"Okay," she said, preparing herself for what she was going to do. She glanced up at the reassuring forms of the gargoyles situated above the door. They would protect him, keep him safe. Their cries would stop any demon in their tracks that came after him, even her employer.

"You have to stay here, okay?" she told him. The toddler cocked his head slightly, his eyes questioning. She sighed. "Of course not," she muttered with a wry smile. "You're two, you're not gonna understand me." She sighed again and sat down on the steps. She couldn't bind him to the church, because even that would leave him open to attack, if he couldn't get away from something that could enter the church, and some demons could, could stand a gargoyles cry, even if for a short time. She sat quiet for a while, pondering different strategies.

Meanwhile, the toddler was standing staring up at the gargoyles, his hazel eyes huge. After a few moments, though, he yawned hugely and walked fairly steadily over to the doors of the church. He curled up against the corner post of the door.

Rebecca felt the little boy leave her side and turned to stop him. Seeing and hearing his yawn, she smiled. She hadn't actually thought he would be tired, but he must be. It was eight o'clock, late for her oldest daughter, who was seven, and definitely late for this two-year-old. She got to her feet and walked over to him.

"You've just gone and made my life so much easier, you know that?" she asked him, a smile on her usually stern face. He looked up at her, a cute smile on his little lips. She laughed and stroked his hair, then stopped herself. She couldn't do this. If she was gonna do this, she might as well adopt him herself. And she couldn't do that, could she? She took a deep breath in, then frowned slightly as a thought struck her.

"How the hell are they gonna know your name, huh?" she asked him. He stared up at her quietly for a second, then babbled very seriously in baby-talk for a few moments. Most of what he said was nonsense, but his last word was - either by chance or his own intent - very clear.

"At-a-me." He said. Rebecca frowned.

"At-a-me…Athame…" She smiled slightly as the idea took shape. "Now that could work."

Pulling a neatly folded piece of paper out of her pocket, and a pen. She carefully printed the kid's name on the paper, then held it against the door with her left hand, conjured an athame into her right, and slammed the athame into the wood of the door. It sunk deep into the wood, and she loosened it a little, so it would be easier to pull out.

"There," she said, satisfied, "You're all set." She glanced at the toddler. In the short time it had taken to write his name and stick it to the wall, he had fallen asleep. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths. She smiled slightly, then her smile faded as she saw goose-bumps rising on his small arms.

She glanced around for something to cover him with, then glanced down at herself.

Shrugging out of her husband's beaten black leather jacket, she tucked it gently around him. Still asleep, he snuggled into it, all but disappearing in the large leather folds.

Rebecca rocked back on her heels, watching him for a few moments. Then, with faint "good luck", she got to her feet, turned, and walked back down the large stone steps and down the street. She was gone, shimmered out, before the end of the street.

Behind her, at the Church, the toddler slept on. The piece of paper with his name on it stirred slightly in the breeze that whipped suddenly through the city of San Francisco. The athame held the paper tight to the door, however, even when many other heavier things were hurled away on the wind.

The next morning, when the priest opened the doors to the church, he found a husky two-year-old boy with dark brown hair and level hazelly-green eyes, sitting wrapped in a large black leather jacket. Sunk deep into the door of the church, above the little boy, was a…a…dagger, pinioning a piece of paper to the door.

The paper had a name on it.

The name was Chris.


Well, I hope u like it! r&r plz.

No review limit on this 1, it's just 4 fun.

Luv ShaedowCat

Ps, Rebecca is Bianca's - and a new character called Catarin - mom.

Luv SC