Cameron ran down the alley as fast he could. He had reigned in his mind and hadn't sensed them stalking him as a result of it. They saw a small, thin boy walking around on his own and decided to make him their target.

He wasn't sure what they wanted to do with him, just that he had to get away before they caught up to him.

Which, judging by how close their minds were, would be before he turned down the next alley. He even sensed another mind around the corner, likely there to ambush him. That one was smaller and female. Closer to his age as well, he was sure.

As he neared the corner, she continued walking, stepping out in front, and he nearly stumbled. Her amber eyes looked at him with shock, and her mind spoke of surprise. She hadn't been expecting any of that.

She look around fourteen and was dressed in a light pink tee and a pair of white skinny jeans, white and pink sneakers on her feet, her dark brown hair tied in a high ponytail.

The moment she saw past Cameron, he sensed fury in her gaze – and wariness in his pursuers.

"I really wish my brother was here," she sighed.

Cameron continued running until he heard the sounds of fighting, and when he turned around, the girl had sent the four men to the ground, and from their pains, he was sure they'd broken bones.

She turned and faced Cameron and raised an eyebrow.

"So," she said. "Why were they chasing you?"

"I-I don't know," he says. "They just… were. Wh-how did you do that?"

"Kayla," she answered, and he frowned a little. "What's wrong?"

"What do you want?" He asked. "Violent chick."

"Hey," she said. "This violent chick just saved you, kid."

"I'm not a kid," he growled. "I'm twelve."

"You sure don't look it, shorty," she said, and Cam's aggravation intensified.

A sudden, brutal pain went through Kayla's skull, as if someone had taken a pair of battering rams and slammed them into her mind twice. Cursing, she collapsed to the ground, rubbing her head and attempting to soothe her mind.

When she finally recovered, Kayla limped out of the alley and down the street, reaching a nearby cafe. While she herself didn't have magic, her brother did, though their parents hadn't known back then. She really wished her parents hadn't chased him off.

They hadn't meant to, but he ran away anyway. They were harsh on the two of them and had some pretty strong views about certain things. And when they caught her brother looking up certain things online… her world went south.

They woke up the next morning to find him gone and a note stating he hated them. It was something he'd vented about many times to Kayla, but she'd never thought he'd ever take off like that. After he'd run, their parents realized that they might have been a bit too harsh about him.

He was thirteen, it was natural to be curious about things like that. It wasn't like he was watching porn. Just looking up stuff about being gay. Kayla didn't think he was, just that he'd been a curious thirteen-year-old boy. Especially with the way he looked at one of her friends. One of her girl friends.

Cursing, Kayla wished her brother still had his phone. He'd broken it after taking off. She spent the last seven months wandering the streets in her free time trying to find him. Her parents had even pulled in some of their contacts through their job to look for him.

He'd simply vanished, though she knew he was still around. They all did. If he'd been abducted into a magic smuggling ring or a children's trafficking ring, they'd have been alerted to it. Both of them had been trained heavily in self-defense since they were little, and it would take either drugs or sheer force to take them down.

Not only that, but they both had trackers, of a kind. It wasn't useful for exact locations, but they'd know if he went out of its range.

Touching the chain around her neck, she pulled it out and examined the griffin charm hanging from it, their family's emblem. More than fifty generations of magicians. While she'd yet to become a mage, they had no doubt she would, one day, awaken her magic.

If only she could find her tree while meditating.

She tucked the necklace back under her shirt and entered the cafe, walking up to the counter and placing an order, then taking a seat and waiting for it to be finished. Rubbing her head, she wished the boy hadn't been so jumpy.

A mind mage. Her parents said that there were only a dozen of them registered with the government, and of them, none had roots in it. They knew of seventeen others in the States, but no youth among them. An unregistered one had their roots in it.

Sighing, Kayla admitted to herself that his violent reaction had probably been her fault. She'd called him short, and that was when he reacted. It was probably a sore subject for him, especially if he was twelve, like he claimed.

"Did you really get into another fight?"

The familiar voice froze Kayla, who looked over to see her younger brother standing there, looking annoyed as he held her food in his hands, along with his own meal.

"Greyson," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating," he answered, sitting down across from her. "Who did you pick a fight with this time while trying to find me?"

"You knew?"

"That you've challenged a few people who refused to give you information about me?" He asked. "Yes, Kayla, I knew. And when I saw you coming here, I decided to tell you to knock it off. I'm not returning to your parents."

He slid her food and drink across to her as she processed the fact that he didn't even acknowledge them as his own family.

Greyson was furious with her. Again, she'd gotten into a fight while looking for him. He knew she was protective of him, but that was taking it overboard. He went through the same hellish training she had and could defend himself.

Their parents worked for the Department of Supernatural Services and wanted to make sure they were able to defend themselves.

"For the record," she said. "I didn't get into a fight trying to find you this time. I mean, I was trying to find you, but that's not why I got into a fight."

"What?" He scoffed. "Someone got the jump on you?"

"No," she answered. "They were chasing a boy-"

She noticed the look on his face. Surprise. He knew about a boy on the streets, she could tell it. Then she mentally berated herself – of course he did. He'd been on them for seven months. The fact that he seemed surprised confused her. Why would he be surprised that she'd met a boy on the streets?

"A boy?" He asked.

"Yes, Greyson," she said. "A boy. Claimed to be twelve. Little short guy, temperamental about it. Light brown hair, dark blue eyes. And-"

She leaned in close.

"He's a mind mage, Greyson," she whispered. "The moment I called him 'shorty', he reacted by taking a battering ram to my mind. Two battering rams to my mind. By the time I could see clearly again, he'd gone. And I know you know about him, you're not as good at hiding your thoughts as you like to think."

"Shut up and eat your food," he snapped. "And tell me where he was."

Greyson listened as his sister told him where she'd seen the boy, then finished his food and slid out of the booth.

"Take care of my trash," he ordered her. "And stop looking for me, Kayla. I'm not going back to those people."

With that, he turned and left, making his way down to the alley where she'd met him. The men she'd fought were gone, but that was fine by him.

Inhaling deeply, Greyson smelled the blood in the air of everyone who had passed through recently. It wasn't something he'd told his mentors he could do. A little bit of enhancement magic mingling with his blood magic.

Picking up the scents, he noted his sister's and the three men's, but not the supposed target of the men's. Inhaling deeper, he choked and started coughing. Too deep, too much scent of blood filling his nose.

Once he recovered, Greyson shrugged. He didn't have a reason to go after the boy, and was actually amused that he'd taken a mental battering ram to his sister. She'd been good for venting to, but he hadn't liked her that much.

Kayla liked their parents and their parents' ways far too much for him. She always told him it was for the best that they did what their parents wanted.

"Hey, G," a familiar voice spoke, and Greyson turned to face the speaker.

Nineteen, with dark brown hair and matching eyes, the teen was lean and defined, and at the moment, shirtless, wearing just a pair of shorts and sneakers.

"Thought I smelled you around here," Greyson grunted. "Can you pick up a scent for me?"

"Oh, come on," Blake complained. "You know I hate doing that."

"I'm not a werewolf," Greyson said. "My sister was here, as were four men. I'm sure you could smell the fight, and that's why you came. There was a sixth person. Can you smell him?"

Blake groaned, then walked over and began sniffing around. As he did, Greyson looked at the werewolf's back, which was covered in scars. The werewolf had been heavily abused before he'd broken his way out of his cell and fought his way to freedom. He'd been lashed and beaten, sometimes burned, and often pitted in an arena.

Greyson had managed to heal the scars on the front, but the ones on the back were much deeper, and much, much worse. He hoped he'd one day be strong enough to help his friend there as well.

"Nada," Blake said, and Greyson grunted. "Are you sure there was a sixth person?"

"A kid," Greyson nodded. "I couldn't smell his blood. Are you sure your nose isn't clogged again?"

"My nose is just fine," Blake started messing up Greyson's hair, chuckling as the younger boy pulled away and started fussing to fix it. "It's just hair, Greyson, stop being so pristine. Why do you want to find him?"

"He's a mind mage," Greyson answered. "Elaine accidentally scared him off. He was able to tell she'd used a truth serum on her, and blew up."

"It's not like you to be interested in others," Blake commented.

Which was why Greyson found himself confused at having befriended Blake and caring for him. It was just 'one of those things', he knew. Though if he were to be honest with himself, his interest in Cameron was likely because he was on the streets around the same age Greyson had ended upon them.

That, and he wanted to thank him for the mental battering ram to his sister's mind.

"Sniff harder," Greyson told Blake. "Everyone has a scent. If not them, their clothes. And you're a werewolf, you should be able to pick it up."

"I'm telling you, there's nothing there," Blake said, sniffing around again. "You know, I'm picking up something."

"You are?" Greyson asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," Blake said. "There's something a bit angelic about the smell-"

Greyson groaned, then started walking off.

"Hey!" Blake ran up to him, grabbing him and spinning him around. Greyson pointedly looked at the wall to his left. "Greyson, seriously. I can't smell another person there."

"Did you really have to bring up my smell?"

"It's probably the most interesting one I've ever smelled," Blake told him. "It's not every day I meet a half-angel, you know."

"I'm not healing you the next time you fight," Greyson told him. "You can suffer through the night with your injuries."

"Oh, come on!" Blake complained. "We both make money off those fights! Wait! I'm supposed to fight Richard tonight! I always get bloodied up real good!"

"And?" Greyson asked as he continued walking. "I've told you before not to bring up the people who created me."

Blake sighed. Greyson was especially touchy about his parents after what they'd put him through growing up. Unlike his wholly-human sister, Greyson was half-angel, a result of his mother being unfaithful one night.

They weren't sure if his parents knew about his heritage or not, and he knew about it only because of meeting Blake, who'd smelled angels before. Full angels, not nephilim like him.

"Where are we going?" Blake asked.

"I am going to my magic lessons," Greyson stated. "You are going to see if you can pick up his scent. And to put on a shirt."