There was a party in front of the target apartment complex.

  At least that was what Abel thought when he and Quinn tracked Mio’s lackeys to a steadily growing crowd. Even kids from within the building peeked out to witness the revelry.

  ”Arwen hasn’t been home in hours!” A girl yelled down at the crowd from her window.

  “Coward!” the crowd below chanted in response.

  Abel must’ve slowed his pace to witness it all, because he felt Quinn’s voice close behind him.

  “You know what they’re going to do with him when they find him?” She asked as she tapped Abel’s shoulder to guide him towards the west side of the complex.

  “Rockwell described it as a swarm that leaves you on death’s door.” Abel attempted to peer over his shoulder to look at her. “Will they do that to you too?”

  Quinn’s palm pushed his cheek forward, away from her.

  Was she being… bashful?

  Cute.

  “What, do you think Milo gave me a special exemption?” She scoffed.

  “Well, you seem very alive.” Abel reasoned bluntly. It got a huff of a laugh out of Quinn.

  “The thing about a swarm is that it requires cornering and overwhelming your target.” Quinn mused. “How effective do you think they are in doing that?”

  Abel clocked a few curious glances thrown their way from a group strolling alongside the building perimeter just as they reached the other end of the apartment building. Unlike the partygoers, these were security detail— Milo’s gangsters on the hunt.

  “Seems like you’re giving them a good opportunity now.” Abel mumbled as the gang shambled closer.

  ”Not quite.” She turned her gaze up to the second floor window, which was fully opened for its residents to overhear the ruckus without getting involved.

  Quinn leapt and scrambled up along the wall before grasping onto the windowsill. She then vaulted herself up and in through the window, then reached back and extended her hand to him.

  Impressive.

  The security detail was now rushing towards Abel. He lept and grabbed her hand. She quickly yanked him in. Before he had a chance to find his footing, she was dragging him through a stranger’s apartment. Abel narrowly dodged a broom thrown his way as an old woman within shrieked.

  “I don’t get it. Isn’t the guy they’re looking for not here? Why did we go in?” Abel dipped his head in apology to the family as they approached the front door. Quinn pulled open the bolt of the door with practiced ease.

  “He’s not home, but he’s still in the building.” The two stumbled into the hallway, down to a stairwell, then slowed to a halt, fatigued.

  “How do you know that?” Abel spoke between huffs.

  “Unfortunately, Milo is working off reliable information.” Quinn breathed as she leaned on the railing. Her eyes darted around the stairwell as she began to calculate their next move.

  “Why is that unfortunate?” Instead of answering his question, Quinn began to lead them down, eyes on the basment.

  They were suddenly intercepted when Milo’s gang burst through the exit doors, standing between them and their target destination.

  And a familiar large figure stood in the doorway to the exit, looming above the rest. Milo’s arm slung around his shoulder.

  Neymar.

  Neymar was a part of them.

  Petty anger twisted in Abel’s chest. Neymar had such shit taste in friends.

  But maybe Abel could put this anger to good use.

  Abel quickly peeled Quinn away from the steps and pushed her back against the wall, out of the gang’s sight.

  “What are you—“ she attempted to push him away, but he held firm.

  “Shh.” He whispered, holding a finger between them. “Want to get to the basement? I have a plan.”

  —-

  Within seconds, though it took some reassurance, Abel was stationed ready by the second floor door, and Quinn was trepidatiously leaning over the stairwell railing, her hood lifted firmly over her head.

  “Hey!“ She yelled down at the Gang that was beginning to fan out across the ground and first floor. “You losers lookin’ for me?”

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  Confused yells erupted from the gang below. Quinn immediately rushed up the steps leading to the second floor as her name was yelled out in recognition, echoing up the stairwell.

  She slipped off her jacket as Abel did the same for his plaid uniform jacket. They flung their jackets at each other, Quinn shrugging Abel’s on as she tucked behind the opened door leading into the apartment hallway. Abel threw Quinn’s on. It fit snug, but his build was lanky enough to pull off the resemblance. He threw the hood up and took off down into the hallway as the first of the gang reached the second floor landing.

  One by one, the gang pursued the one they thought was Quinn Volta into the apartment complex hallway. The real Quinn waited for the last straggler to leave before she peeled herself out from behind the door and descended rapidly to the basement below.

  If Abel had any doubts about her intentions, he had sealed his fate now.

  Abel bounded around curious heads that poked out of doorways and into the hall. Confused cries erupted around him. He kept his head low and barrelled through limbs that tried to grab at him.

  And then he saw Milo catching up to his pace from the corner of his eye.

  “You’re done for, Volta!”

  He twisted to feint a double back, which slowed Milo’s pace briefly, but he quickly caught up again.

  ”Wait– You’re not—“ Abel could hear Milo mutter beneath his breath. He panicked and scanned the hall ahead of him. It was about to reach its end.

  And at that end was a window.

  Bingo.

  Abel rushed up to the window and braced himself.

  Don’t cause trouble. Don’t use magic. Don’t get caught. Don’t get noticed. Don’t use magic.

  Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

  These limits are starting to sound a lot like provocation.

  Abel channeled energy through his breath. As he pried the window open, he released a gust of wind behind him that barrelled through the hallway, knocking the gang back in surprise. Some lost their footing, others knocked into each other. Milo stopped in his tracks.

  “What the—?”

  It gave Abel enough time to climb out.

  But he was three floors up.

  The ground was much too far away.

  So he gripped onto the windowsill and dangled off it just as Milo reached the window. Abel quickly swung to the side and launched himself at the balcony on the floor below.

  His arms hit the metal railing surrounding the balcony with the full force of his swing. His grip slipped and he nearly fell past it. Biting back the pain he quickly secured his grip on the floor ledge of the balcony. Bloody scrapes trailed down his arm, including a newly-rendered hole in Quinn’s jacket.

  Hope she’s not going to get mad at me for that…

  A crowd was beginning to surround the ground below him. The mob had identified its glorious leader in the window.

  “Get her— them!” Milo desperately yelled.

  Abel needed another way out.

  Shit. Shit. shit.

  He shakily pulled himself up the balcony rail again, only to face a pair of kids who stared at him with wide saucer eyes, tucked behind their older sibling brandishing a bat.

  Abel narrowly ducked a bat swing to the head and pushed off of the railing, leaping across to the neighbor’s balcony.

  But that wasn’t much better either.

  He was grappled by a woman as he attempted to dodge another bat swing.

  “I’ve got him!”

  His cover was blown.

  Quinn was going to get caught.

  The thunder of footsteps of the gang surging through the hall echoed above and around him.

  And then shouts began erupting below.

  The stairwell doors opened and Quinn Volta emerged into the courtyard with a boy in tow. Abel’s uniform jacket was wrapped around her head like a babushka’s scarf. She took one scan of the scene, recognizing Abel’s unfortunate circumstance.

  There was a slight hesitation. She then disengaged from the boy beside her.

  “Look! It’s Arwen!” She yelled as she retreated. As soon as the crowd turned to the boy, she ducked into a side street, disappearing.

  The boy looked shocked, then terrified. He immediately broke into a run. The mob pursued.

  Why did she go through all this to find him, only to give him up?

  Abel took the distraction to free himself from the grapple and launched himself off the balcony.

  He landed on the ground with a tumble that sent pain straight through his knees, then ducked through the rush.

  As he turned to look back at the apartment, he saw Neymar standing on the balcony, staring directly at him.

  Furious.

  ——

  Abel couldn’t find Quinn Volta after that. Anyone remaining from the mob that attempted to pursue him had stopped in their tracks the moment they spotted a Catcher. He played it casual as well, ducking away to hide and lose their trail as soon as he could.

  Once he was out of sight, he tucked Quinn’s jacket in a bundle under his shirt and returned to school to retrieve his guitar.

  It was right where he hid it in that abandoned classroom.

  Phew.

  He stuffed the jacket in his guitar case and returned back to his apartment, where he made quick work patching up his arm.

  At dinner, Neymar was characteristically quiet. Abel only briefly mentioned the new practice room he had found on the corner of campus. Neymar grunted in acknowledgment.

  It was only just before retiring to bed that Neymar faced Abel.

  “Big scrape you have there.”

  “It is. It stings, too.” Abel noted, aloof.

  “You didn’t come across any Catchers, did you?” Neymar looked genuinely concerned.

  Odd.

  “Not beyond the usual walking around.” Abel shrugged it off. “Rockwell missed you.”

  There was a pause as Neymar searched his memory. Nothing.

  “… like she was aiming for me?”

  “She asked me to invite you to some study group. It was canceled in the end.”

  “Me?”

  “She’s not the ‘she’ we’re looking for, by the way. So it seems like she invited you out of the goodness of her heart.” Abel gave him a look. ”And you stomped on it.”

  Neymar blustered.

  “That was completely your fault! When were you going to tell me?”

  “Oh just before you blew me off for bloody Milo.” Abel failed to keep the venom out of his voice. It was enough to set Neymar off.

  “You want to talk about blowoffs?”

  “How could you?” Abel interjected.

  “How could YOU? With Quinn? It’s a miracle nobody recognized you back at that apartment.”

  Abel scoffed.

  “Even Milo?” Abel clarified.

  “He just knows he was tricked. That Quinn is working with someone else. Be thankful he didn’t sense the magic you threw at us. What were you thinking?”

  But Abel stopped listening.

  Be thankful.

  Be thankful.

  Be thankful we plucked you from that backwater village.

  Be thankful we gave you a purpose, so fight for us.

  It grated on him. He wanted Neymar to hurt.

  “How was the swarm? Was it satisfying seeing Milo’s mob rip that kid to shreds? Did they even ask him why he did it?”

  Neymar’s gaze turned hard, anguished. Of course he wasn’t comfortable. Of course he hated it.

  But it was a sacrifice. If only Abel could see that.

  “I’m trying to protect us.”

  “So am I.”

  Now it was Neymar’s turn to scoff.

  “No, you’re being—“

  “Being what?” Abel snapped.

  “You think I can’t tell you’re down bad? Every other word out of your mouth all week has been about her.”

  Abel flushed red, fuming.

  “Fuck you, Neymar.”

  Abel stormed to his room without another word.