The night was dark, a little cold. The wind whispered down the streets, pulling the loose papers and garbage along the greasy sidewalks and making the toughs on the corner under the neon lights pull their jackets closer, making the working girls wish net-stockings and latex micro-minis weren’t their work uniform. The wind talked to the shadows of a thousand secrets in shades of dark. It drove upward and onward, through the brick-walled alleys, making the clothes-lines flutter and moving through the holes in the grilles and the cold steel of the steps that ran up the sides of the buildings. Like a hunting predator it moved through the jungle of hard concrete, cold steel, blood, exhaust fumes and sleek shining vehicles that was the city, navigating the mazes of streets and alleys without fear or pause.

She smiled as she felt it part around her, caressing her and lifting strands of night-dark hair. Like it she walked fearlessly these dark streets. Like it she was free, with her purpose and meaning, her place in this world which was not empty for her any longer.

Eyes watched her from the shadows. She knew that they watched her, and she could hear what thoughts were running through the minds of their owners.

They waited till she was deep in the alley before they stepped out and stopped her. Four of them, all young and male. Two feeling the effects of the beer they had drunk and the marijuana they had smoked, all full of themselves and the need to do violence to justify their existence.

"What’ve we got here?" sneered the one who was obviously the leader. Medium height, black hair and eyes, smooth light-tan skin. They all wore the standard ripped jeans and sneakers or Doc Martens and hiking boots,T-shirts and black leather jackets spray painted with obnoxious words. Earrings, nose-rings, eyebrow-rings, tufts of hair dyed in bright colours. Except the leader. Rather pretty actually, very masculine with the shadow of stubble on his cheeks already. "One of ‘em goth-girls?"

One of them sniggered, the ornaments in his ears jangling slightly. "She’d better have some cash on her, or we might just take the fancy clothes and the necklaces and stuff."

"And somethin’ else," leered the third, stocky and large. "Or we might just take ‘em all anyway." Their laughter was the laughter of something unnatural; the laughter of human beings intent on a kill for that alien concept of fun, not for survival as natural predators did.

She smiled, pale in the light of the street lamp, setting her booted feet a little apart, her fingers loose and her arms at her sides in the black wool tunic. The wind came again, whispering to her, pulling her hair back from her face, flaring the long black trench-coat like the wings of some creature of the night, stealing through the fabric of the thick, soft black hose. The silver she wore clinked a little, the flat round discs riding her hips, the delicate chains, the armlets. A pure metal, the colour of moonlight.

"You should not be here. There are shadows here, and things much worse."

The leader grinned. They seemed to find her words funny. Then the large one saw he thing which shone in her hand, glimmering in the pale, white light.

"You planning to go riding on a horsey tonight, bitch? That looks like it might sell, Davis." Lunging at her he snatched for the bridle.