1 Chapter One

Paris makes sounds even when it sleeps.

The crackle of dying fires in houses, the smoke escaped chimneys and the occasional pop of an exhaust pipe from a late-night car drive echoed quietly along the streets of Paris, never falling silent.

The thief often found this odd.

As he stood on the roof of a house, he would close his eyes and listen carefully. He could hear the rhythms of the city, the chaotic music of late-night Paris. Beyond the everyday noise, he heard the muffle of voices, mothers telling stories, radios announcing late night tales, and, most notable, the loud, authoritative footsteps echoing in the street right below him.

The streets glistened with puddles and shiny brick pathways.

The thief opened his eyes, pressing a hand to the top of his fedora. He held onto the chimney pole and leaned over the railing of the house, designed to keep chimney sweeps from simply falling off. Tonight, he used it to look down at the policeman.

The confident glow of the lamppost illuminated him on the corner of the street. The man wore an oversized helmet, which the thief doubted reflected how big his head was, a dark blue uniform and the occasional glow of his golden badge pinned on his left breast pocket. The thief assumed a baton either rested in the right holster of his belt or sat comfortably in the copper's white-gloved hands. This officer looked younger, and from what the thief could gather, had a very wide chin.

However, this evening wasn't about evading the police.

The thief smirked as he watched the authority figure playfully splash in a puddle before continuing his rounds. The young boy looked out to so-called 'sleeping' Paris and took in a long breath of the cold night air. Disguised by darkness, he ran on the tiles of the building, taking an elegant leap to land on the next building, being sure to do so as delicately as a mouse to avoid disturbing their residents.

One may ask why the thief didn't merely run through the streets, obscured by the night and shadows. To which the thief would often reply with, "Streets are unpredictable. Who knows who I may run into, and besides, the rooftops are the quickest way across the drowsy city." To which the thief was right.

However, mildly obese or top-heavy folks, the rooftops were better scaled by the slim, the cautious and the light-footed. Certainly not large police officers.

The thief felt himself slip on a tile, sending him sliding down the side of a roof, nearly flying off the gutter. Nimble and quick-thinking, his hands reached forwards, and he managed to dangle himself from the ledge. The young boy panted, shock envelop his body as he hung three stories from the pavement. He took a daring glance down, smirking at his luck, before noticing he was dangling right in front of a window.

A little girl, armed with a teddy bear and the dim light of a candle, stared with moony eyes at this well-dressed silhouette in her window. She approached the window and held the light to the glass to get a better look at him. She grabbed the bottoms of the window and pushed it up. The young thief could smell fabrics and dirt.

"Hello, little girl." The young thief's voice was quiet.

"What're you doing hanging from the roof?" she asked.

The thief blinked at her question, "Well…" He glanced down and then back up, "I was a bit silly and slipped."

The girl didn't seem to question it but narrowed her eyes. "Mummy says I need to scream when a stranger is talking to me."

"She sounds like a very cautious lady," he replied, "How about this? My name is Raphael Dane. And what might your name be?" She introduced herself as Mary Puckett. "See? We aren't strangers anymore." The thief could feel his fingers beginning to seize up.

"Why were you up on the roof, Rapha… Rapha…" Raphael smiled at her failed attempts to say his name.

"I'm a Moon-Chaser," he replied. "I hop from roof to roof, chasing the moon in a game of tag, hoping one day to catch it."

Mary Puckett seemed enthralled by this idea of moon-chasing. The thief started to slip and hurriedly dismissed himself. "May I use your windowsill, please?" Mary Puckett backed away from her window while the Moon-Chaser braced his feet against the frame and flexed one of his hands. In one quick swipe, however, he took off his navy fedora and promptly farewelled her. "Until we meet again, mademoiselle. Farewell." With a mighty push, the thief managed to pull himself back onto the roof and continued running, hearing little Mary call out goodbye and good luck with his moon chasing.

*

Raphael sat squatted on the roof of a building across from a small museum; Le Artist of Passion, with its temporary attraction; Tea in the Countryside. Even with the dim lighting, the thief could still see the advertisement for the artwork.

He sighed through his nose, composing himself as he rebuttoned his navy waistcoat and walked to the edge of the building. This building was only two stories and served as nothing more than a humble flower shop by day. It was, however, home to a delightful elderly couple who often forgot to lock their windows.

Raphael stood in the hallway of the house, the light breeze behind him made the green curtains softly flutter, almost reaching for him.

Floorboards always exaggerated how loud they were, especially at night, even the small amount of weight could cause them to screech as if in agonising pain. The young boy had learned long ago; it was merely less stressful to go quickly on wooden floors.

Swift and light-footed, he made it to the opposite end of the hallway with little disturbance to the elderly residents, whom Raphael could hear snoring loudly through the walls. He raced down the stairs and opened the door leading into the flower shop. A lovely business during the day when one could marvel at the colours of flowers and chat about the occasion for such things, but at night all flowers appeared wilted and sad, giving the often-cheery shop, a sense of gloominess Raphael found unnerving.

He would admit, however, that it was a lovely scented room. Careful not to disturb any of the decorations in the room, ranging from elaborately decorated flower pots to a strange glass display of golden gardening shears in the centre of the room, he approached the glass front door and peered out to the museum across the usually busy road.

Regardless of time or date, there were always guards on the grounds, especially when a beautiful piece of art is displayed. As Raphael watched, he noted the silhouette and bright torchlight of a guard cutting across the front garden of the museum.

The young thief Raphael unlocked the bronze lock and pulled open the door, only to be greeted by a bell chime at the top of the doorway.

When one doesn't expect a noise, it can be rather alarming, frightening even depending on how loud it is. The bell chime made the boy jump, giving him such a fright his hat nearly fell off his head. He quickly exited the shop and stood amongst the shadows, away from the lamppost.

He leaned against the brick foundation of the florist and took in the marvel of the museum. During the day, the walls were a worn-down cream colour, and the windows presented a glimpse into the artworks hidden within. While at night the stars and moon would often reflect off the surface of the large glass dome which provided a roof over the whole of the museum. Tonight didn't offer a majestic reflection of constellations as there was much cloud cover from a recent drizzle of rain; instead, it provided a dark swirl of clouds and specs of starlight. Regardless, Raphael still found it beautiful.

And, enormous.

Underneath, there were dozens of rooms filled with sculptures, paintings, and other pieces, including 'Tea in the Countryside.'

Raphael jogged across the road and pressed his back against the stone wall that surrounded the museum grounds. Raphael peered around the corner of the wall, looking through the black fencing in time to see the guard disappear around the corner. Raphael knew the guard wouldn't be back for five minutes, so he needed to be quick. He gently pushed the gates open. The doors were loosely wrapped in chains and locked by a heavy padlock, providing enough room for Raphael's thin body.

He zipped across the lawn, quickly ducking behind a bush when he was near the building.

He scanned the upper walls for a specific balcony. On the second floor, several terraces provided a better of the gardens surrounding the museum; the shaped bushes, the flower arrangements, the delicate pebble pathways that reflected the daytime sun. However, at night, none of these things was truly spectacular, but the balcony did offer easy entry without going through the front door.

While Raphael assessed his options, he scooped up some decorative pebbles surrounding a bush, pocketing a few of them as he ventured inside.

Decorating the sides of the walls were vine arrangements, growing on a wooden brace tied down to the building. Raphael started scaling the vines, climbing onto the balcony and looking out to the yard of the museum and beyond. It didn't provide as spectacular a view of Paris as the rooftops.

The thief looked to the archway, the doors were made of glass but were covered by thick curtains, not enabling him to look inside. He pulled out some wire and slid it between the doors and ran it up until he felt the latch. After a few moments, the doors unlocked. Raphael quietly opened them and stepped inside, being sure to close them gently.

Raphael never liked museums at night time.

All the lights were off, forcing the hallways to be illuminated by whatever light was outside. The walls decorated with portraits of men and women, most of which were no longer alive. He found their unblinking stares uncomfortable to look at in a nighttime setting, at least during the day their glares were bearable.

But the thief wasn't here to observe the paintings; he was here to steal one.

Raphael needed to walk delicately, as the marble-floored hallways would echo even with the smallest of noise.

Raphael had done meticulous research and knew when and where the guards would be and how much longer until they returned. He was amazed by the countless amount of times they had underestimated his skill set. Every upgrade or change Raphael could surpass or

He waited by a wall and peered around the corner, watching a guard walk away from him, torch in hand. Raphael ducked down and made the slow task of crossing the hallway undetected.

The guard suddenly turned, hearing a disturbance, and shined the light down the hallway.

But there was no one.

The guard frowned, turning back and around and continuing with his route. Raphael released his breath, emerging from behind the large vase he hid behind. He had nearly knocked it over.

When there was something as valuable as Tea in the Countryside, more guards get placed in and around the exhibit. This was always the challenging part of thieving; accounting for the unexpected.

With more guards meant the higher probability of spontaneous routes, sometimes in pairs, often alone, but always within earshot of one another. Raphael remained squatted, waiting a few moments to the guard to create some distance between them.

Raphael stalked down a hallway and disappeared around a corner seconds before a torchlight followed him. However, in his haste, his hat slipped off his head and was in the spotlight of a guard's torch before he could recollect.

"What on earth…" the guard approached the fedora and picked it up, examining it.

The young thief liked his hat.

And he didn't appreciate it when the guard started making fun of it. With every joke, the young thief rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth as he remained in the shadows, waiting for the guard to put the hat down. "Who wears such a silly hat anymore?" the guard snickered.

Raphael glared at him as the guard attempted to fit the fedora on his fat head, but to no avail. Raphael pulled one of the small decorative pebbles from his pocket and peered down the opposite hallway, noticing a glass display right by a window.

The young thief tossed the rock, flying over the guard's head and clattering against the glass display case. It made a loud noise in the silent air.

It startled the guard so much he placed the fedora on a table and ran over to investigate.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" he demanded. French words followed the guard's demand as he readied his baton and pursued the noise.

Raphael pinched his hat from the table and quickly ran down the hallway towards Tea in the Countryside. "You're not a silly hat," he grumbled, fitting it back on his head.

Raphael counted twelve yawns from one guard as he stalked behind a sleepy man sitting in a chair facing the archway of the room. He hugged the wall in the next room, noting the presence of five guards, two of which examined the painting 'Tea in the Countryside', chatting tiredly about why they thought it was such an expensive piece of art. Other than the artwork, the room was famous for having a glass ceiling, allowing natural light to drip in from the sky and shine a spotlight in the centre of the room. The thief stayed in the corners amongst the shadows, hugging his coat to himself as he shuffled slowly down the wall.

The guards pointed their lights at the walls to look at the artworks to occupy their time. Raphael widened his eyes and dropped to the ground. The torch skimmed the top of his hat, but the guard took no notice as the light continued across the wall.

He counted the chairs. Three.

He noticed the guards. Five.

The chairs occupied, one facing the archway with an exhausted-looking guard whose baton rested lazily in his hand on the ground, another facing the painting and the third facing the only other exit out of the room, each with fading guards. He noticed one of the men was asleep, slumped in the chair in front of the painting.

Raphael needed a distraction. He fished a gold coin from his pocket and pressed it to his lips, planting a kiss as he prayed for luck, and tossed the coin across the ground. It rolled.

It travelled quite the distance, making a subtle noise on the marble floors that caught the attention of the standing guards. Confused, they watched as the coin rolled across the room, creating an agonising sound as it hit the wall and clattered on the ground. One guard picked up the coin, frowning at where it came from; however, it didn't stop them from pocketing it. Moments later, the pair started walking down the hallway surrounding the room.

The thief looked to the other two; three down, two to go.

Raphael recalled the museum had the latest form of security. Alarms.

Loud alarms from what he could gather, only some windows and picture frames had them. Raphael had an idea of what to be careful around.

The guard facing the archway continued to slide down the chair, feeling his eyes grow heavy, as he stared down the hallway to the eventual window. His baton had slipped from his hand and started rolling along the ground, but he made no effort to retrieve it.

The presence of footsteps alerted him, however, followed by a very distinct figure walking across the archway, disappearing moments later. "Hey!" he snapped, startling his comrades into a similar state. Alert, the guard, rose from the chair and hastily ran to where the shadow had been, looking down the hallway, but finding no one.

"What is it?" the guard facing the painting called, still tired, he didn't get up from his seat.

"Someone's in here!" he hissed, scrambling to his baton and readying it.

He attempted to pitch to them he had seen someone walk across the hallway, but neither of the security guards could see any sign of the figure. There was doubt whether the man had seen anything at all, the pair brushing it off as fatigue.

The guard was growing annoyed. "I'm sounding the alarm!" Adopting a gruffer voice, he began to march from the room.

"Don't be hasty. Let's just look around first, see if this phantom of yours is here. If they are, they won't get far."

The third guard agreed, tiredly pushing himself to his feet with a stretch. "If there's someone here, we shall find them."

Turning on their torches, they walked down the hallway in search of the intruder.

The thief waited for them to pass him, before walking back into the now vacant room. He grabbed the edges of the doors, left open for easy comings and goings, and gave them soft pull, ensuring when they close it was soundless.

He twirled, facing the painting as he approached it. In the room, his quiet footsteps still released soft sounds. He ducked under the red rope protecting the art from sticky-fingered guests and stood inches from the painting.

It was credited to Ericson von Milchig.

A humble artist who took his only daughter out to the country, away from the busy streets of Paris, to have tea one day. Unknown that it would be his final time seeing it before he lost his sight. The piece was a marvel as the artist painted it from memory. It was the Countryside; the grass had tints of blue, the springtime tree was laced with purples and pinks, while the sky had a mix of natural blue and rosy orange. Yet there were some artistic choices untraditional, such as the strange coloured wildflowers decorating the grass.

It was something the young thief could never stop admiring.

"Hello, my dear," he breathed, craning his neck to look at the very edges of the piece. He restrained himself from running his fingers over the dried paint. "I'll be careful. Promise."

A blinding glint reflected off his knife as he showed it off for a moment and swiftly ran it along the edges of the painting.

Any art enthusiast would probably squirm in their seats, original works of art sliced from their frames would be nothing short of a nightmare for critics and artists alike. But the thief was informed, and careful. The museum used delicate frames that had its paper rested underneath the physical painting; Raphael sliced through the frame paper, not the actual artwork.

The painting dripped forwards, falling into his arms, leaving behind nothing more than an empty square of white decorated by an elegant golden frame. Raphael whooped, "Success!"

"Freeze!"

There was a blinding light from above that surrounded Raphael, piercing through the window dome. The thief squinted, blocking the blinding light as he looked to his surroundings; police officers—about two dozen police officers, all with drawn batons and guns.

The thief rolled up the painting and tucked it under his arm, pushing against the rim of his hat to further define the shadow around his eyes as he adjusted his appearance.

When one establishes dominance, they're often the loudest thing in the room. Inspector Riley was the head inspector for the recent art thefts. He was a determined and proud man, dressed in his sophisticated evening ware of black trench coat, white gloves and dark grey trousers.

Usually perched on his head was a dark grey fedora with some paper pinned into the side. But as he was a gentleman, his hat rested in his hands as his polished shoes demanded attention with each step. His raspy voice spoke; "That's far enough Art Thief!" his mouth covered by a thick, brown moustache that twitched when he spoke. "Return what you stole and let me see your hands!"

Raphael obeyed, showing his palms to the Inspector, but the hat cast shadows over his features. "Long time no see, Inspector," the thief said, "Always a pleasure."

"Silence, thief!" The Inspector had been chasing the Raphael for months, each time he had escaped his grasp through silly tricks or sneaky tactics, but he was sure this time he had the thief cornered. "On your knees, now! Get on the ground!"

Raphael sighed, pressing two fingers to his hat, "Well, which is it? On my knees or the ground?" He smirked as he heard the Inspector's teeth grind, "There are many things I am willing to do for you, Inspector. But I refuse to get on the ground like a dog." Raphael's hand slipped in his coat, grabbing three thin latex balls which he gleefully showed off to the police.

"I shall return it later, I promise," Raphael assured the Inspector as he threw the balls against the ground. The room was engulfed with pale blue smoke, stinging the eyes of the officers and causing an opera of coughs and wheezes.

The Inspector couldn't see anything but heard the unsubtle steps of the thief as he fled the room.

*

Raphael underestimated Inspector Riley.

The young thief liked the Inspector. He was an interesting character. Very over the top and extremely persistent. Whenever he thought about the Inspector, he compared him to past detectives who attempted to apprehend him, who were never this much fun.

His voice bellowed down the hallway. The thief turned around and watched Inspector Riley emerge from a doorway, with him a cloud of the thief's concoction, pointing at Raphael before pursuing.

Raphael could hardly contain his smile as he continued running, getting to the balcony he had entered in and merely leaping from the stone edge. The Inspector caught up in time to watch the thief disappear over the edge.

He landed in a giant elephant-shaped bush, crushing the poor green creature's trunk. Raphael stumbled throughout the bush before managing to land on the ground. It was not an elegant affair.

Raphael took a moment to compose himself before laughing as Riley started to curse, demanding the guards go after him. He ran to the gate and heard the sirens, noticing more officers waiting for him outside the museum. The young thief took cover by a tree, disappearing from the watchful glare of lights. "How hadn't I noticed this…?" he pondered aloud examining the gate poles.

There were several police cars, each with a pair of police officers, with their guns drawn. Raphael always considered this to be a potential outcome. He ran his hands over the cold metal of the bars, searching for the one he had loosened days prior. He found it.

The bars were close together, and it was a tight squeeze for Raphael. His upper body fit through, he used his hands to pull his lower body through the gate, hoping he was quiet enough not to attract a torchlight.

"Come 'ere!" Raphael felt his body slide back through the gate, hands grabbing fistfuls of his trousers and coat, attempting to yank him back through the gate. A guard had found him!

Raphael rolled on his back to face him, keeping his composure as he fought off the man, gripping onto the gate to keep from getting pulled back in. The guard used one of his hands to reach for a whistle, bringing the silver to his lips. The thief's mind flashed back to the painful memory of his first heist. A similar police whistle was enough to send him to the ground in pain.

Raphael kicked and thrashed his lower body to dislodge the whistle, accidentally forcing it to scrape against the man's teeth. He dropped it with a yelp of pain.

Now free, Raphael frantically squirmed back through the gate. The young thief breathed heavily through his nose, unseen by the other guards.

The thief scampered to his feet and started racing down the street, after a few meters the whistle released its jarring shrill. The young thief gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore his instinct to cover his ears. It didn't stop his eyes from watering as he continued down the street, guard after guard noticed the fleeing figure.

"Fire at will!" one of the officers yelled.

"No, you idiot! He's still got the painting!" Riley snapped, waving away the command, "After him!"

The young thief almost felt sorry for the Inspector. But Raphael knew he needed to keep moving, the moment he slowed down, they would catch him. He ran to a side street and took to a fire escape. He quickly scaled the rusty ladder, the metal so slippery he almost fell down the ladder again. Raphael continued frantically, feeling the vibrations of the authorities below him. "Halt! Police!"

Raphael got to the flat roof of the building and started running again.

Raphael wanted as much attention as he could get if they went to the trouble of bringing the entire police force after him. He leapt over the small space between the building he was on and the next, using his momentum to hop to the next one, and the next one, running along the sides of slanted rooftops and sliding down tiles to leap onto an adjacent building.

The thief was impressed. Some officers managed to continue to pursue him. But he remained three houses ahead of them.

Raphael recognised his location and recalled a convenient abandoned building. He scanned the Paris rooftops in search of the building, eyeing it at the end of the street; across a large alleyway that separated the buildings.

Raphael smirked, pinching the end of his hat as he took the challenge, charging forwards and made the daring leap to the next building over. The frantic waving of torches continued searching blindly, but the police chasing him froze, suddenly unable to see where the young thief went.

Raphael squatted on the fire escape, several meters down from the roof, hearing the chattering of the police and the approaching footsteps. The fire escape was before a window, an open window.

He quickly opened the window and slipped inside, locking it properly and pressing his back to the wall beside the window. The room illuminated with a torch beam searching for him.

Raphael slid down the wall and sat on the ground; more police footsteps echoed above him, causing the ceiling to creak and release particles of dust. Some were smart enough to consider the thief had gone down the fire escape. Raphael watched a silhouette appear in the window, a police officer peering through the glass and testing the window. Raphael held his breath as the figure lingered in the window, fearing he may be able to see his shoes or sense his presence. It clicked closed, unable to be open.

And the silhouette disappeared.

Raphael heaved a long, airy sigh.

*

Inspector Riley was panting, gritting his teeth at the possibility that thief got away again. While he spoke with the guards already on scene, the other police in pursuit of the boy returned, empty-handed.

"What happened?"

They explained how he appeared to disappear into the night, no trace of the thief anywhere. "We lost 'im, sir," one confessed.

Inspector Riley growled, "Damnit!"

He ran a thoughtful hand through his moustache as he attempted to make out the features of the Art Thief. Tonight had been the first time he had seen the boy so clearly. He was so young, could scarcely be an adult.

He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or furious.

How could someone so young accomplish what he has?

"Set up a perimeter search. We will not let Phantom get away with this!"

The guards nodded, stating in unison, "Right away, sir!"