Jakub watched, head and chest both pounding, as the cops pulled away from the curb with Cheshire in the back. There’s nothing you could do, he told himself, over and over, as the crowd began to disperse and the remaining officers went back to the storefront that had brought them there. The police have nothing on him. He’ll be all right...if he can keep his mouth shut.

Jakub grimaced and rubbed his eyes, telling himself one more time that following Cheshire to the station wasn’t about to help anything. So he turned his sights on the Foley teen who was sneaking away down the street.

He wasn’t difficult to tail, with so many people who had stalled now moving on in their daily routine. Jakub slipped through the milling pedestrians with ease, and soon enough he spotted the girl from earlier, waiting on a street corner. They met up, laughing and chattering excitedly. Their good humor had him seeing red.

They started to move on, heading north, likely ready to meet up with even more of their crew to share the good news. Jakub waited only long enough until he could see a familiar café sign ahead. With a deep breath he increased his pace, catching up to them just as they reached the entrance.

The boy turned, but he wasn’t fast enough to defend. Jakub grabbed him by his coat and swung him around, throwing him up against the front door of the café. With a twist of the handle the kid was spilling inside, and Jakub followed, shoving him into the small room of sparse diners.

“What the hell—” the teen started to swear, but then he recognized his attacker, and his face went white just before Jakub punched him straight in the nose.

Before he’d even hit the floor his partner lunged, leaping onto Jakub’s back. She only got one good hit on his ear before the cafe’s patrons jarred from their seats, dragging her off and into one of the booth seats. Between the two hollering teens and everyone else asking questions at once, the room was in chaos until a shrill whistle split the air.

Edith, the owner, glared from one to the next with steely impatience until she spotted Jakub. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

It took Jakub a while to answer. Even with his head swimming he should have been fine, but he couldn’t stop thinking of Cheshire wilting in the back of a police car, being sped off to an unknown fate. They have nothing on him, he thought again but it wasn’t doing any good. His fists were trembling and he wanted to beat the little punk senseless. But then Edith cleared her throat, and he straightened up.

“I need a minute,” he said.

Edith nodded knowingly, and with a wave of her hand the patrons began to clear out. As soon as the Foley girl was free of them she rushed to her friend’s side, and they gaped at the retreating men and women with shock. “Are you really just leaving?” she sputtered. “After he—”

“It’s like Bloom said,” Jakub cut her off. “You’re too far south.”

The last guest out flipped the door sign to CLOSED. Edith took up a guarding position in front of it, her hand in her apron, but Jakub shook his head at her. “It’s okay, Edith,” he said. “You won’t have to use that.”

The teens glanced between Jakub and the stone-faced woman with mounting dread. Finally they seemed to understand just how much they’d risked for the sake of whatever game they were playing. “You don’t scare us,” said the girl, eyes cold but a tremor in her voice. “You’re not so dumb that you’d kill us in broad daylight.”

“There’s a basement,” Jakub replied, and he was glad to see her shudder.

The boy sat up, holding his freshly-bleeding nose with both hands. “What do you want? It’s your friend’s fault he got caught!”

“You targeted him specifically,” said Jakub. “On purpose. Tell me why, right now.”

The pair exchanged a look. Neither looked ready to give anything up, until they quite clearly heard the click of a revolver hammer being thumbed back from inside Edith’s apron. She couldn’t have known anything that was going on, but she’d been in the business since before Jakub had been born and he was grateful for her keen instincts.

“Boss Foley put us up to it,” the girl admitted. “The cops finally caught wise to your safecracking trick—they know Bloom’s a witch, or whatever the hell it is. They’ve been asking around for him.”

Jakub’s fingernails dug rivets into his palms. He’d known all along that it was only a matter of time, but he still fumed at having not paced themselves better, at having encouraged Cheshire to take it back up after avoiding for a while. There would be time to blame himself for it later, though, so he focused instead on the two teenagers shrinking beneath his glare. “Cops can’t prove magic in court,” he said. “They’d have to catch him in the act.” As long as he keeps his mouth shut.

The girl shook her head. “They’re not looking for proof. They’re looking for a snitch.”

Jakub saw red again, and he took a step toward them. “Who would snitch on him?” When they didn’t answer swiftly enough for him he bent down, grabbing the boy harshly by his ear. “Who do the cops have to rat him out?”

The boy yelped but he didn’t fight, and he motioned for his friend not to, either. “The boss just told us to get him pulled in,” he said through a grimace. “It could be anyone! The river, the south—even one’a your own. Anyone who doesn’t want to see Kozlow get any bigger.”

Jakub ground his teeth as he considered those options. Certainly the Foleys had the most to lose if Kozlow gained turf along the river, but he and Cheshire had tangled with plenty of the other gangs, even family members of Barney’s soon-to-be bride. And even if there wasn’t some mysterious snitch hiding in the wings already, there would be. There’s no real precedent for magical crime, he thought, letting go of the boy’s ear. What if they just do what they want and make an example of him?

“Go back to your boss,” Jakub told the pair, conveying as much of his seriousness as possible. It must have worked because they all but cowered from him. “And tell him that if a Foley snitches on Bloom—or any of Kozlow’s—they’re going to regret it. He’s more powerful than you know. Tell him that.”

The teens nodded, but they remained where they were even after Jakub had stepped aside and motioned for them to go. It wasn’t until Edith relinquished her position at the door that they bounded to their feet and dashed out. As soon as they’d passed a few of the diners peeked their heads in, and at Edith’s encouragement returned to their tables to finish their meals.

“Take a breath, honey,” said Edith as she moved to Jakub’s side. “You look like you’re about to do something stupid.”

Jakub scrubbed the back of his palm across his face as if that might clear away whatever expression she was referring to. “I’m fine,” he said, and without any time to lose, he turned to leave. “Thanks for the help.”

Out on the sidewalk, Jakub’s mind grew a little clearer. He fetched a cigarette out of his pocket, and the first breath, devoid of what had become a familiar tang, sharpened determination in him. If the coppers figure out what he can do, they’ll find any excuse to put him away, he thought, his feet already carrying him north. But to do that they’ll need someone to testify against him. That can’t happen. He picked up his pace. It’s not stupid, it’s what needs to be done.

***

Cheshire had seen the inside of the station a few times before, though not for any trouble he’d gotten into himself; he’d accompanied Jakub to retrieve Kozlow comrades from lockup when they got into petty trouble, smoothing things over with a bit of charm. He spotted a few familiar faces among the officers as the mysterious detective guided him toward the rear, and even got one to smile back. Then the man stopped abruptly, and Cheshire did, too, very careful not to bump into him.

They were standing in front of a desk cluttered with folders and paperwork, occupied by a young woman who was making a focused attempt to rein in the mess. Her black hair was braided close to her scalp in intricate patterns, and she was wearing a thick muffler with bright colors that Cheshire was instantly envious of. She glanced up when they approached and flashed a brilliant smile.

“Your desk could use some work, Dad,” she teased.

The detective gave a short sigh and then motioned her out of his chair. “Wait for me up front, Sally,” he said. “We’re going to be a while.”

She stood, smoothly taking up one of the folders from the desk as she did so. “Not a problem.” She winked at Cheshire. “Whatever you did, good luck.”

Sally started to move past them, but her father stopped her, plucking the folder out of her hand. “Not this one,” he said sternly. He shooed again for her to leave as he replaced the folder on his desk and then removed his hat and coat. “Sit down, kid.”

Cheshire shrugged meekly as he maneuvered past her for the chair opposite. “I like your braids,” he said.

“Thank you.” Sally regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, and then her demeanor changed. Her eyes grew wide and expressionless, and it wasn’t until the detective cleared his throat that she jarred back to life. With a sudden urgency she hurried off; Cheshire had no idea what to make of the reaction, but it sure didn’t help his already tight nerves any.

The detective sat down, shoving some of his papers to the side while Cheshire took a seat as well. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked without looking up.

Cheshire stalled, glancing around the room. It wasn’t an office so much as a corner of the station walled off by a few short file cabinets. He could see other cops casting glances in their direction from all over. “Isn’t that...kind of rude?” he asked, trying to sound flippant. “Arresting me before—”

“You’re not under arrest. So tell me your name.”

Cheshire refocused, and he startled when he realized that the man was staring at him now—glaring, even, which he was somewhat used to, but not quite at this level. What would Jay do in a situation like this? he wondered desperately, and he blurted out, “You, first.”

The detective reached across his desk, and Cheshire tensed, despite the distance between them somehow thinking that he was going to have his tie tugged again. Instead, he moved his nameplate from one corner to the center where Cheshire could more easily read it: DET. D. ALICE.

Oh, no, thought Cheshire, sweat under his gloves as he met the man’s steady, expectant glare. A parade of Hannah’s 49th Precinct ghost stories marched between his ears. I’m in trouble.

“You don’t look like an Alice,” Cheshire said with a half grin that probably looked as helpless as it felt. “What does the D stand for?”

“Daniel,” Alice replied, startling him. He hadn’t actually expected him to answer. “And you’re Cheshire Bloom.”

“I’m…not…?” Cheshire winced; he simply couldn’t get his full bearings, when he needed them most. He sat up taller in his chair. “I mean, I’m not sure why it would matter if I was. You saw everything that happened—it was just a little—”

“Cigarette?” Alice interrupted, tugging a case out of his inside jacket pocket.

No, Cheshire thought, but his mouth said, “Sure.”

Alice offered him the case, but he didn’t reach across the desk very far—Cheshire had to get out of his seat to take one. As soon as he had a cigarette Alice sat back and returned the case to his jacket, and Cheshire stilled, suddenly feeling as if he’d fallen for some trap. He gulped. “Um, got a light?”

Alice only stared. He somehow managed to be patient and judgmental at the same time, and Cheshire wondered if that was something fathers were taught, or instinctually gained upon bringing their children into the world. It filled Cheshire with a gut-twisting sensation of shame he couldn’t shake.

“I’ll just chew on it, I guess,” he muttered as he sat back down.

“You’re not going to show me your little parlour trick?” Alice prodded. “You’ve shown everyone else.”

Cheshire’s heart skipped, and as he stared back at Alice across the desk he finally understood just how dire his situation was. Alice knew. He knew what he could do—had done—and not just that Cheshire would have no trouble lighting a cigarette on his own, or even blowing open some rich New Yorker’s wall safe. Cheshire glanced to the top folder on Alice’s desk and thought of Sally’s eyes growing wide in what he could now interpret as terror, of a young Foley maybe not exaggerating as he cried on the sidewalk. Did everyone know?

What would Jakub do? Cheshire thought again, but he couldn’t believe that unflinching stoicism would work against the brick wall that Alice was already, even if he could have mustered the strength to hold that up. He licked his lips and squashed a sensation of dread. What would Bunny do?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cheshire said.

“You’ve shown everyone,” Alice repeated. “It’s all over town, son—’the safecracker is one of Kozlow’s. Blonde kid always in a suit. Cheshire Bloom.’ That’s you.”

Maybe they only know about the safes after all? Cheshire thought, but he couldn’t even try to feel relief with Alice still watching him so closely. “That’s a...quite a story. But I’ve never touched a safe. I think you have me—”

“Tell me about the alley,” Alice said.