Abel expected the Altiman District to turn into his personal battlefield.

  He had lost Neymar as an ally. His only other potential ally, Quinn, was hated by the rest of the District. Rockwell was far too stubbornly neutral, and Milo had many ways to suspect him as his number one enemy— as the one who duped him into chasing a fake Quinn Volta.

  And the bandage on his arm was glaring evidence of that.

  So Abel put together a meager alibi. He threw more bandages on himself. A second one on his opposite hand, a patch on his cheek and neck.

  When Milo asked him— or rather, demanded answers from him— Abel claimed it was a cooking accident.

  “Seems like serendipitous timing.” Milo scoffed.

  Abel stood, bracing himself for the swarm to consume him.

  After all, Neymar was bound to refute him, to turn him in.

  But to Abel’s surprise, Neymar corroborated his story instead.

  “My mom gave him hell for messing with oil like that.” He grunted.

  It was enough to get Milo to back off, at least momentarily, for he had developed a reputation amongst the school for being the Catcher-Chaser— the one to rescue a man from the clutches of a Catcher.

  Abel barely managed to keep his emotions in check. There was a strange twist in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake off.

  Maybe this is what it meant to have a brother.

  Later that afternoon, Abel squirreled away to the abandoned classroom he now dubbed his practice room. It had become a sanctuary for him. Away from Milo’s prying eyes. Away from the Catchers, away from the Empire at large.

  It was just him and his guitar, and potentially Quinn Volta listening beneath the window.

  And maybe that was why the first thing he did was pull out her jacket.

  But he couldn’t exactly reveal that he knew she was there. She would undoubtedly run off or attack him.

  So he pretended to dismissively toss the jacket aside, conveniently towards the window with her tucked note. He even added a scoff to sell the charade.

  When the sleeve slapped over the other side of the windowsill, he heard a light squeak.

  Then the jacket shuffled with movement as it was pulled on the other side.

  Abel began playing his guitar, waiting as he watched the jacket shift side to side on the window, then stop.

  And he stopped with it.

  “Who’s there?” He called out.

  A soft silence filled the room.

  “Unless you’re a mouse, I saw you move it. Show yourself.” Abel called out again.

  “You ripped it.” Quinn’s voice responded from the other side, measured. Abel saw the top of her head slowly rise into view from the bottom of the window.

  “I tried to fix it.” Abel attempted an appeal.

  ”You’re bad at sewing.” Quinn’s hand came into view and pulled the rest of the jacket over to her side.

  “Sorry.”

  Her eyes flicked to his bandages.

  ”How’s your arm? And your… face?”

  “It’ll heal. Doesn’t hurt too bad. This one is fake.” Abel pointed to his cheek bandage. That didn’t seem to ease the frown on Quinn’s face.

  “It was a bad plan— the jackets, all of it. Here’s yours, by the way.” She flung Abel’s jacket through the window. Abel caught it before it touched the ground.

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  “Is that why you let that Arwen guy go?”

  “He was a dud.” Quinn scowled. “Whether the plan was good or not didn’t matter.”

  “A dud.” Abel prodded for more information.

  “Useless, pointless, ineffective.”

  ”Are you going to keep listing synonyms, or are you going to share what utility you were trying to find in him?”

  Quinn shot him an annoyed look. Abel merely smiled at her, his jaw clicking in tandem.

  “I’ll leave you to return to your music.” She turned away, disappearing from sight.

  ”You still don’t trust me?”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it.” Quinn muttered.

  Abel crossed the room and stuck his head out of the window, peering down at Quinn propped against the building wall.

  “I could help you.”

  “With another bad plan?”

  “The more I know, the better my plans can be.” He tilted his head slyly.

  She huffed and finally looked up at him.

  ”Do you know what I find odd? You’ve been here for less than a month. Most kids would be shitting their pants and cowering in their homes just from the Catchers alone. But I’ve seen you chase after a gangster, break into someone’s apartment, run headfirst towards a mob, and leap from a building.”

  Abel blanched.

  Well shit.

  When she put it that way…

  …he did sound a little psychotic.

  “I bet the only thing you know about me is that those same Catchers are my good good pals, and that’s why Milo has a bounty on my head. Now you’re trying to help me?”

  She then groaned.

  ”Is that what it is? Are you doing all this because you think it’ll help your chances with the Catchers?”

  “Well, that depends.” Abel rested his arms on the windowsill, drawing closer to her. ”There was a great crowd at that apartment building yesterday. Plenty of unrest for the assault of an informant for the Catchers. Did they turn a blind eye because you asked them to? If that were the case, you made it harder on yourself to complete your mission.”

  Quinn stiffened.

  “Or is it that informants aren’t valued after all? If I truly wanted salvation, I would have better luck pretending to be a Catcher myself.”

  ”Then what? Are you just some thrill-seeker?”

  Abel hesitated. Would that be a useful assumption? She might treat him cautiously, like a firecracker. She might dismiss him.

  And he wanted answers. He wanted a resolution— a way to get out from fearing both Milo and the Catchers all at once. To finally enjoy his time in school in peace, regardless of where the Empire threw him.

  He had already sullied his promise to Dmitri to stay out of trouble this much that he might as well get something out of it.

  “Someone made me out to be their enemy the first day I arrived here.” Abel finally spoke. “She had her gang jump me in an alley. I once thought it was you, but it seems like you work alone. She does not.”

  “She.” Quinn repeated the word like it was foreign.

  “I don’t think she is Rockwell’s either. But—” Abel stopped at the sight of Quinn trembling. What he first believed were sobs turned out to be laughter.

  “She!” She squeaked in between laughs.

  Abel didn’t know how to react. Quinn scrambled to her feet, energized. She pumped her fists in celebration.

  “She finally messed up! Oh, Arwen was a dud but you aren’t.” Quinn turned and grabbed Abel by the shoulders. “I could kiss you. You should’ve started with this!”

  “I thought—“ Abel blustered.

  But Quinn wasn’t listening.

  “So you’re in it for payback. Good, good.“ There was a glint in her eye that made Abel fascinated and apprehensive at the same time. It was like she came to life before him. She then leaned in towards him conspiratorially.

  “You want to take her down? I’ll show you.”

  ———

  Milo was uneasy ever since he hosted Arwen’s trial. He was repeating his motivational speeches more often. He took less people with him on patrols. By the end of the week, he even threatened to kick Neymar out of his inner circle— a position Neymar had only recently earned after earning the title Catcher-Chaser. He was set to join the rest of the circle in their regular meetings with their Lady Informant at the end of the week. It was what allowed him to hold his stomach during Arwen’s trial— when he watched dozens of kids crush and bleed a person until his cries turned to dull sobs.

  And he couldn’t just sit by and lose that on a whim.

  “Milo. Talk to me. What’s going on?” Neymar asked him in the midst of their laps around the school field. He was barely managing to speak between huffs.

  “There’s nobody we can trust now. Nobody.” Milo huffed back, his gaze focused on the field ahead of them. “That guy…Back at the apartment…”

  Abel?

  Neymar held his breath. He nearly tripped over the uneven ground.

  “He was a Catcher. But he was in civilian clothes.” Milo finished. “It’s the only explanation.”

  “W-What?”

  “The Catchers are the only ones in the District who can wield magic. I’m sure that’s what I felt.” Milo frowned. “To think Quinn Volta would pull that kind of trick… First they try to hide from us, now they try to imitate us?”

  Milo turned to Neymar in desperation.

  “I am only telling you this because I know you have a sense of these things. You found that hidden Catcher. Yes, maybe you’ll find this one— No, I know you can find this one— out of anyone. If you really want to keep your place, you’ll bring me that imposter.” Milo’s eyes glittered with anger and fear. “We’ll give them a trial. We’ll show them that nobody can escape accountability.”

  “What if they use their powers against us?”

  “We have numbers. They can’t get all of us before we have a chance to make them feel our punishment. “ Milo spoke quickly, decisively.

  Neymar paled. He was going to sacrifice his own people for the sake of making a statement. This was lunacy—

  Then, Milo’s gaze lit up with lucidity for a brief moment. As if he had just woken up from a dream.

  “Keep this quiet. Not even the rest of the patrol can know. The Catchers could interfere with our plans or worse— the mere suggestion that someone in plainclothes wielding magic could embolden their actions. So keep your mouth shut until you have answers. Got it?” Milo slapped a hand on Neymar’s shoulder.

  “Can I rely on you?”

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  This was spinning out of control.

  If he turned Abel in, Abel would get in trouble and risk exposing his real identity as a non-Altiman to the rest of the District. Neymar’s identity would be compromised shortly after.

  Then, even if they manage to survive the inevitable wrath of the District in the aftermath, Madame Fenharrow would find out about Neymar’s own involvement in an attack against Abel and hate him forever. Maybe even send him back to his aunt.

  And then he would get pulled back into his old life— the life he promised himself he would never return to.

  But if he didn’t turn Abel in, Milo could be mad enough to start an Anti-Catcher riot, which could turn the whole District into a bloodbath.

  Damn it.

  Why did Abel have to be so irresponsible?

  There must be a way out of this.

  Neymar needed to find a fall guy.

  “Of course you can rely on me.”