Page 1 of Stealing Jia

Prologue

According to my birth certificate my name is Jia Stanka. The report I dug up stated while trying to outrun an avalanche Viola Stanka lost control of her car and hit a tree. She died instantly. A baby girl was found unharmed in an infant seat. The avalanche also wiped out the entire village of San Martino, including every member of the Stanka clan. That seemed a bit too convenient. Even more curious was none of the people in the pictures I found had red hair and green eyes. Either way, little orphan me was sent to Saint Michael’s Home for Lost Sheep. The kids in the orphanage were neither docile nor sheep-like. It was a home for budding criminals with psychic abilities.

Mother Superior was a vindictive bitch and how she ever became a nun is a mystery to me. Some say she joined the convent when the love of her life was killed. Me? I think she ended him. What better place for a murderess to hide? Her vow of chastity was a joke. She had more men in her quarters than a street hooker. She didn’t honor her oath of poverty either. Her habit was made from the finest silk, her cross was solid gold, and she smoked the best Havana cigars Cuba could produce. Any nun who spoke up about her behavior abruptly disappeared.

Mother Superior’s brother was Salvatore Genovese, a notorious crime boss. She depended on his generosity to keep Saint Michael’s orphanage afloat and get her those little luxuries she so richly deserved. She allowed Salvatore to use the children in his criminal enterprises. At the age of six, I became a talented pickpocket. When I turned eleven, my “trainers” began teaching me how to become a cat burglar. I mean, who would suspect a kid of stealing millions of credits in jewels and fine art? Not the Polizia; and if they did get suspicious, I used my psychic talent to cloud their minds.

The night everything changed is forever etched into my mind. I had snuck into Mother Superior’s rooms to “borrow” her stilettos, but she was wearing them while she fucked her latest John. A lot of men thought doing it with a nun was hot. To me it was just gross. The guy said something about her floppy breasts and wham! She slit his throat. Bright red blood splashed over the silver bedspread. My gasp of horror drew Mother Superior’s attention.

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted my hiding place. “You little whore! I will kill you.” She jumped off the bed, tripped over the dead guy’s shoes and crashed to the floor. Between her stilettos and all the blood, it took her three tries to get to her feet.

I had found out the hard way Mother Superior was immune to my gifts. I darted around her and bolted from the room. For a nun she sure could cuss. There was only one place to hide if I didn’t want to end up as another missing kid, and I ran as fast as I could.

Saint Michael’s catacombs had been carved into volcanic rock. Ancient bones arranged in the shape of a crucifix guarded the entrance. My heart pounding in my chest, I paused at the doorway and took a deep breath. Over the years, hundreds of people had entered, never to be seen again. Sister Sarah said to keep to the left and God would lead me out. I hoped she was right. Then there were the rats. Thousands of them, scurrying about the bones, animating the dead.

Vicious cursing echoed in the night air. I grinned. Mother Superior had broken a heel on her red Manolo Blahnik stilettos. Pity. I had been lusting after those shoes for months.

An angry male voice snapped, “Killing Alfred in front of the child was a stupid mistake.”

I stiffened. Merda, Salvatore was with her. He liked young girls and the thought of him touching me, made my skin crawl.

“Jia is like a ghost. I did not know she was there until it was too late. We simply kill her and leave the body in the catacombs. No one will miss the little thief,” Mother Superior shot back.

Too true. I peeped around the wall. Salvatore loomed over his sister. The moonlight turned his face into a macabre mask. “That little thief has made me millions. Your sloppiness ends today.” In a lightning fast move, he grabbed Mother Superior’s head and twisted it.Crack!She fell to the ground.

Fear knotted my stomach. Holy Mother of God! He had killed his own sister and no matter how many credits I stole for him, Salvatore wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me. I quickly stepped into the waiting darkness and felt my way along the wall; grimacing when my hand touched mummified remains.

The beam of a flashlight played over frescos of forgotten Popes.

I ducked into a burial niche and tunneled beneath a long dead priest. His shadowy skull leered at me.

Salvatore called, “Come to me Jia and I will make your death an easy one.”

Sure he would, right after he raped me. I closed my eyes and silently prayed. Touch me, o Lord, fill me with your light and your hope. Cause I don’t want to die today. Dear God, please give me the strength to lie beneath this stinky-ass corpse. Give me the courage to face that monster. When evil darkens my world, give me light.

Salvatore’s flashlight swept over my hiding place.

Okay, forget the light. I froze as Salvatore stopped in front of my hiding place and made those horrible kissy noises. “Come bambina, no need to be afraid. I will make it good for you.”

Like I believed that.

“I can make your first time pleasurable or I can make it very painful. Come out now,” Salvatore commanded.

If I prayed hard enough, would God lead him into the catacombs? Maybe. But I couldn’t wait around for divine intervention. Before I could touch Salvatore’s mind a loud thunk reverberated down the passageway.

“Run little one, but I will catch you.” Salvatore moved away.

The nuns did say God worked in mysterious ways, but I never thought he’d use the rats. I took a cautious peek. The darkness swallowed Salvatore. I climbed out of the niche and ran into the night.

They found Mother Superior’s body the next day. A novice nun discovered the dead guy in her blood-soaked bed an hour later. The novice’s shrieks could have raised the dead. The ruckus brought all the sisters running. Ten minutes later, dozens of Polizia descended on the orphanage and when they located the bloody knife on Mother Superior’s corpse, they summoned the Bishop. The deaths were hushed up. The Polizia searched for Salvatore but he was never seen again.

His brother Matteo took over and nothing changed. I continued to steal and gained the nickname of La Veloce or the Flash. By the time I turned sixteen, I had saved enough money to leave the orphanage. I wanted to find out who I really was, and I was sick to death of stealing for Matteo.

Dodging Matteo’s goons, while trying to find a legitimate job, proved to be impossible. Sheer desperation drove me back to being La Veloce. I broke into Matteo’s headquarters, downloaded every document I could find on his organization and sent them to the Polizia. He’s doing life at Carcere Giudiziario, one of the worst prisons in Italy.

One of the chores at the orphanage had been helping Sister Sarah rescue injured animals. It was one job I loved. Critters were drawn to me. Why? I don’t know, but they helped ease my loneliness. With Sister Sarah’s assistance, I bought a small villa outside Rome and fulfilled her dream of running an animal sanctuary. It also allowed me to aid the street kids without drawing the Polizia’s attention. The children I gathered, became my family.

The dream of finding my clan had never wavered. In my heart, I knew my father was out there somewhere and one day I would find him. Then the Tai-Kok came and all my dreams died. The battle to survive changed me. I discovered my ability to manipulate electricity while fighting the monsters. I learned how to use it to kill. My talent to cloud minds worked on the Tai-Kok and Rodan too.

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