It was as if gravity reversed. Cheshire’s organs crowded at the base of his throat and he couldn’t help but remember that night, chunky blood sloshing against the back of his neck. It was almost enough to make him sick, and it must have shown in his face, because he could see Alice’s gears winding tight between his knuckles. The detective didn’t just know, he’d seen it. There were probably even photographs sitting in the folder on his desk. Cheshire squeezed his fists against his lap as part of him was tempted to pull it open and see for himself, just to be sure if the reality matched his hazy memory.

Calm down, he thought, and he wasn’t sure where the boost of sudden rationality came from, but he welcomed it. If he had proof you’d be locked up already or worse. He forced himself to meet Alice’s steely glare with ease. He’s waiting for you to give yourself away. You’re the one in control here.

“You mean, the alley the Foley kid and I came out of?” Cheshire replied, clinging to the shreds of his confidence. “We had just come up from the river. Ask the old ladies down there, they’ll tell you—”

“You know which alley I mean,” Alice interrupted, and even though Cheshire had expected him to, it was still a little rattling. “May 8th of last year, north of here on the edge of Foley territory. Buckman Road.”

Cheshire shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Alice gave him another minute to sit and stew, and then he finally leaned forward, slowly, to place his elbows on the desk. When he lowered his voice it sent an honest to goodness chill up Cheshire’s spine. “Son, I’ve been around a while,” he said, imparting his full seriousness. “I’ve seen all manner of the strangest things you can imagine, some of them right here in this city, even worse in the war. I’ve seen men taken apart by bullets and grenades and tanks—and yes, even magic. But I am never going to forget what I saw in that alley. And I don’t think you will, either.”

Cheshire leaned hard into the chair back, but he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t even begin to think of a response, and could only sweat as Alice continued. “You see, the safes you’ve been blowing open aren’t my business. Back when we all thought you were using some new, home-brew dynamite, I couldn’t have cared less. But then one of our boys said, ‘What if it ain’t dynamite?’ And you can bet I made it my business then, because there’s no way two witches more destructive than anything I’ve seen go unnoticed in this city that long.”

Something hard crept into his eyes, so familiar in their accusation that for a moment Cheshire couldn’t breathe. “Magic like that,” said Alice, pointing at him, “isn’t supposed to exist in the world. Maybe there’s not much an old cop like me can do to stop it, but I’ve seen you now, Bloom. I know what you are. And I want you to remember that the next time you snap your fingers to make someone disappear.”

You don’t know me. Cheshire shivered beneath Alice’s unrelenting intensity and want to shout, maybe to beg, You don’t know anything about me. The words were so potent he could taste them in his throat, and even knowing he would be giving himself away, he could already feel them at his lips, desperate to make Alice understand that he was wrong and—

“Alice!” a man called from a few desks away. He was pressed up against the window with several other detectives and officers, their attention locked on something outside. “Alice, come take a look at this!”

Alice shot the man an angry look, then turned back to Cheshire. He was still waiting for his confession. But as more and more of the officers moved to the windows, his face screwed up, and he pushed to his feet. “Don’t get out of that chair,” he ordered and, grumbling to himself, he moved to investigate.

As soon as he was far enough away Cheshire let his breath out in a rush. His heart was pounding, shaking through his fingers as he gave his eyes a quick rub. He doesn’t know anything, he thought, bitter and sick with the memory of Sean Foley digging a blunt knife into his neck. He was still battling the impulse to tell Alice so when he glanced up, and his eye caught on the folder still on the top of the desk.

He reached for it. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by looking, but he couldn’t help himself. Just as his fingers brushed the corner, however, he sensed eyes on him, and fearing that Alice was already returning, he jerked his hand back.

Alice wasn’t at the window anymore, but he wasn’t looking at Cheshire, either; he’d grabbed the phone receiver off of the nearest desk and was talking heatedly into it. The deep, distinctive tones of his voice cut above the harried chatter of the other officers and Cheshire heard him say, “I know very well where that is—it’s one of Foley’s storehouses.”

A Foley storehouse? Cheshire looked to the north-facing windows that had everyone’s attention, registering interest for the first time. When one of the officers hurried off, leaving an open space, Cheshire snuck from his chair to take their place. A plume of black smoke was rising above the skyline in the distance, just far enough away that Alice had to be talking about the Connell Bakery. He and Jakub had had their eyes on the place for weeks, suspecting that the Foleys were using it to smuggle Hallorran shells in the loaves. Any fire put to the basement would certainly have caused an impressive explosion.

Cheshire leaned into the glass. Jakub? He found himself pressing up on his toes, a hundred tons lifted from his shoulders. That can’t be him, can it?

“Admiring your handiwork?” said a young voice, and Cheshire turned. The girl from earlier, Sally, was standing just behind him. “Blowing things up is what you do, right?”

Cheshire realized a moment too late that he was grinning; he quickly swallowed the expression down. “What, are you a gumshoe like your old man?”

“I’m a reporter,” Sally replied, folding her arms. “I know all about you.”

It wasn’t nearly as intimidating a notion as coming from her father, and Cheshire was so emboldened by the thought of distant explosions that it didn’t register at all. “I really don’t think you do.”

“Sally,” Alice barked, and she startled a little—Cheshire did, too. He hadn’t known the man more than an hour but he could immediately tell it wasn’t often someone heard that tone from him. He looked over expecting the detective to be angrily advancing, ordering him back to his seat, but what he found was somehow worse: Alice standing very still, his glare edged with caution.

He’s afraid of me. The realization sent Cheshire’s heart thudding again, an indescribable emotion twisting beneath it. He glanced to Sally and she took a step back, that same expression from earlier tightening her face. He thinks I’d hurt her. They both do. And though the temptation to assure them otherwise was still hiding between his teeth, Cheshire took a deep breath and headed for the door.

“Bloom,” Alice called after him, the other officers making way for him to pursue. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“If you’re not arresting me for punching that kid, I’m leaving,” he said, not breaking stride. He felt like his brain was made of noodles and all he wanted was to find Jakub. “You can’t hold me here.”

Alice caught up to him quickly, his hand lifting, probably intending to halt Cheshire by the elbow; Cheshire beat him to it, pausing just in time to catch Alice’s hand in his. The flinch that jarred the elder man left Cheshire breathless and ill, but he somehow managed to plaster a smile over his uncertainty.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny,” he said.

Alice’s grip cinched tight around his, eyebrows drawing in as if they might be able to restrain his quarry, too. “I am going to pin this to you, Bloom,” he promised.

Adrenaline kept Cheshire’s easy smile in place. “Not today,” he said, and when he relaxed his hand, Alice did too, allowing him to slip away. He could feel the heavy eyes on him all the way to the door.

Out on the sidewalk Cheshire leaned against his knees, taking a few deep breaths to settle his bouncing stomach. As he straightened up he was nervous about the number of people on the street, thinking against all common reason that they would have taken notice of him, that they would know him just as easily as Alice had; everyone was already facing north, talking about and gesturing toward the black smoke continuing to rise in the distance. Watching it drift and curl gave Cheshire his strength back, and he hurried down the sidewalk as quickly as he could without drawing suspicion.

Cheshire’s gut had been right—he was a block away from the bakery when he was urged back by police trying to contain the scene, but there was no mistaking the origin of the smoke. Foley’s southernmost establishment was up in flames, bells clanging from approaching fire trucks. Cheshire stood watching for a few minutes, the familiarity of falling ash both comforting and chilling. He had no idea what to do with himself next until he spotted a familiar mop of black hair, spots of dried blood staining the back of a man’s scarf beneath it.

Jakub was sitting on the curb. An unlit cigarette was pressed between his lips and he was watching the commotion speed past, his face calm and unreadable. Cheshire was so relieved to see him he could have whooped for joy, and he rushed forward. His humor sobered when Jakub lifted his head—hadn’t even been spotted yet, and still he dreaded how he would be met. At a slower pace, he took a deep breath and sat himself down next to his partner.

Jakub tensed; Cheshire was too scared to look, and before the other could say a word he blurted out, “I’m sorry. You were right—I should have left them alone. I totally fell for it.”

Jakub didn’t reply right away, just sitting there, letting Cheshire broil in guilty silence. Finally he took the cigarette out of his mouth. “What did you say to the cops?”

“Nothing,” Cheshire assured him quickly. “They had nothing to keep me on.” His mind tried to dwell on the folder on Alice’s desk, so he plowed past it. “It was that guy Hannah warned us about—Alice? Det. Alice? He knows I’ve been hitting safes but he’s got no proof.” He tugged nervously on his ponytail. “Maybe I should lay low for a while…”

“If you do, that’ll just prove him right,” said Jakub. “You might as well not worry about it. No one in Brooklyn will snitch on you.”

Cheshire risked a glimpse of Jakub’s face and interpreted his steady, almost unblinking stare toward the bakery to be grim resolution. Whatever remaining tensions in his joints fluttered off, and he watched Jakub with a sensation of awe. “This really was you, right? You took out Foley’s storehouse as paybacks?”

“A calculated risk,” Jakub said quickly. “Going after one of us means going after all of us. We’ll never take the river from them if they don’t realize that.”

It made perfect sense, really. Jakub thought of the gang first, always had. He didn’t have personal grudges let alone settle them. But even so Cheshire grinned like a fool, and he slung his arm over Jakub’s shoulders. “You blew up a bakery for me?”

Jakub tensed again, but he didn’t withdraw or try to push Cheshire off. “Better than letting you go to jail,” he muttered, and Cheshire beamed, beside himself. After another moment he cleared his throat and held up his cigarette. “Got a light?”

Cheshire faltered, but only briefly. He cupped his hand over the end of the cigarette to hide it from anyone who happened to be nearby, even if they were deeply engrossed in the scene playing out down the street. The tip of the cigarette flared, and Jakub brought it to his mouth, taking a long puff. “Thanks.”

Cheshire smiled sincerely. “Thank you.”

Jakub shrugged his arm off and pushed to his feet; he looked anxious, and Cheshire worried that he’d misjudged Jakub’s intentions even further than normal until he offered a hand. He pulled Cheshire upright. “Let’s go,” he said. “Letting the Foley’s see you here is one thing, but you don’t want the cops on you again.”

“No, I certainly don’t,” replied Cheshire. “Lead the way.”

They hurried the first two blocks and then strolled the rest of the way back to the riverfront where the entire altercation had started. The potato-peddlers were still there and greeted the pair happily, handing over the paper bag holding Jakub’s suit coat. “Figured you’d be back for this,” said one. “It’s very handsome.”

“Thanks,” said Jakub, and he paid her a nickel for her trouble.

They headed back to their building after that, neither eager to invite more eyes. “Think you’ll have a problem squaring this with Boss Kozlow?” Cheshire asked along the way, preemptively wincing. “He won’t be happy you made a move like that on your own.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jakub replied, with such stoney self-assuredness that he could have convinced Cheshire of anything. “He trusts my judgment.”

“I hope so.” Cheshire rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you in trouble because of me. I owe you, a lot.”

Jakub shook his head. “You don’t owe me,” he said. “Let’s just say I paid you back for the suit.”

Cheshire laughed, and because he’d gotten away with it earlier, he draped his arm over Jakub’s shoulders again. “If I buy you a suit every time you save my bacon, your wardrobe will be bigger than mine in no time!”

“That’s not funny,” Jakub protested. “Just let me be the one to tell the boss what happened, okay?”

“Sure, sure. And I’ll have matching shoes for that jacket by the time you’re done!”

Jakub grumbled, but he still didn’t try to sneak away, so Cheshire kept him close. They walked that way the rest of the trip home.