Juliette hadn't been lying about the quality of ice cream. Charles had never been to Morgenstern's Parlor before, but the cold cream was thick, sweet, and the absolute perfect temperature. He assumed the temperature bit was due to the ice mage working behind the counter. The man held the base of a large metal bowl as another employee whisked its contents. Charles watched with mild fascination as small blue ice crystals formed on the side of bowl and the liquid slowly thickened into rich ice cream.

Juliette also hadn't been lying about her finances. When they reached the counter, Juliette started digging through her pockets, and Charles saw an impressive flash of coins. However, he stopped her with a hand on her arm and insisted that he pay.

"You sure, Mister Abbot?" she had asked.

"Of course, Juliette. My treat."

After they had finished their ice cream—leaving nothing but empty silver bowls behind—they continued their walk home. The stroll was fairly uneventful, save for a moment when Charles spotted Mister Davis in the distance. Charles was so intent on not speaking with the older gentleman that he promptly changed course, turning down a side street to avoid him.

"You look like you just saw a ghost," Juliette commented, glancing over her shoulder as they changed direction. "Is your thief over there?"

"No, no," Charles said, putting his head down. "Just a customer who won't leave me alone."

"What does he want?"

"A specific memory. Someone who can fly."

"Huh." Juliette looked thoughtful. "I knew someone, once, who could fly."

Her admission nearly stopped him in his tracks. Charles had been asking around for months and no one seemed to know anyone with that particular gift. "Really?"

Juliette nodded. "A girl named Emma. She lived with me, in the orphanage."

As much as Charles didn't like asking children for memories, the allure of having Mister Davis off of his case for a few months was tempting. "You don't suppose she'd be willing to sell me a copy of a flying memory? I'd reimburse her for it."

Juliette shrugged. "I haven't seen her since I left Silvers. But she'd probably take you up on your offer... if she's still there, that is." She frowned. "She probably still is. No one really ever leaves that place."

"You did," Charles pointed out.

She shrugged again. "Lucky break. Mister Barnes was looking for talent—apparently a seven-year-old who could shoot lightning out of her fingers and lift people in the air was impressive. As for the others? Lucky breaks are few and far between. Especially for the mages. Everyone knows that new parents don't want a mage. 'Too difficult to control,'" she quoted, mimicking a high-pitched voice.

Charles' heart sunk. Despite the lightness in Juliette's tone, he could sense the underlying sadness. Survivor's guilt, he thought to himself. It was something he had struggled with himself—How had he been so lucky to escape a life of beatings and punishment and poverty when others tried and failed?

"My fiancée volunteers at Silvers," he said, rubbing his arm. "After we catch this thief, if you want to go over there with her, say hi to some of your friends..."

"Thanks for the offer, Mister Abbot, but I don't think that's a good idea." Juliette was looking ahead now, at the cobblestone streets sloping their way into the nicer part of the city. "I got it pretty good. And I don't want to flaunt that in front of them—it just doesn't seem right."

"I understand," Charles said, thinking, once again, how unfair it was that a ten-year-old was stuck with these thoughts.

They continued in silence for the rest of their walk, however, Juliette perked up when Charles pointed out his house. Her eyes flitted up and down the stone exterior, and she nearly tripped as she ran up the front steps.

As soon as they stepped inside, Charles could hear James fumbling around in the kitchen; spoons clanged against metal pans, a knife thudded against a wooden cutting board, and the smell of a just-finished meal wafted through the house.

"You took so long that I was getting ready to come after you!" James cried out from the kitchen. The blond appeared a moment later, arm outstretched as he walked to the front entry, ready to greet Charles' new hire. However, his gaze fell—literally moving down several feet—to Juliette, who was looking around in the foyer with an appraising eye.

"The house is a bit smaller than I expected," she said, almost by way of introduction.

Her critique stung Charles' bravado—he was very proud of his home—but James didn't seem offended by the comment. Instead, he flashed Charles a quick, confused look, and then crouched down so he was closer in height with the girl. "Hello there," he said. "You are?"

"Juliette," the girl said. "Battle mage extraordinaire."

When James continued to look confused, Juliette extended her arm, but not in the manner of a handshake. "I'm a prodigy. Wanna see?"

Realizing what was about to happen, Charles quickly stepped forward and moved Juliette's arm back to her side. "I don't think he needs a demonstration right now," he said quickly, not wanting to see his brother hoisted mid-air. "That can wait until tomorrow, when we go out to catch our thief."

Juliette looked mildly disappointed by the turn of events, but nodded in agreement. "I'm assuming he's your brother?" she asked, pointing to James. "You guys look alike—save for the hair."

Charles nodded. "James Abbot, potion-brewer extraordinaire."

The name caught Juliette's interest; Charles saw a new sparkle in her eye. "I've heard about you. Didn't realize you two were brothers. You're a potion-brewer but you don't have any magick, right?"

James looked mildly confused. "That's right. How did you know that?"

She grinned. "I do a lot of reading."

"She apparently has a voracious appetite for old newspapers," Charles said by way of explanation. "Anyway, Juliette will be staying with us for the next month. I was thinking she could stay in the spare bedroom?"

James hesitated for only a second before saying, "Of course." He then turned to the girl. "Juliette, why don't you run upstairs and take a look around? You can put your things in the guest bedroom—upstairs, first door on the left. I'll swap out the linens later today."

She nodded. "Okay!" Then she scampered up the flight of stairs and disappeared on the second floor.

Once they were alone, James turned to his brother, shaking his head. "Charles, what the bloody hell happened?" he hissed. "I thought you were hiring a battle mage, not a child!"

Charles held his hands up in defense. "I don't like it either. But Mister Barnes said she was the only one available who could help me. And don't let her size fool you—her magicks are quite impressive."

James started to protest, but Charles interrupted him. "We'll catch the thief tomorrow. After that, I won't need her to do a thing. Mister Barnes made me pay for a full month, so she can relax here until her contract's over, see what it's like to have a home for a bit—not an orphanage or a cramped dorm room under the arena."

"Your soft spot is showing," James said, but eventually he nodded. "Okay. But be careful with her. Prodigy or not, she's still a child."

"I know," Charles said, finally taking off his hat and stepping out of his shoes. "Speaking of which, do you mind watching her this afternoon? I have some work I need to get done and it'd be easier to do if I didn't have to babysit."

At this, James let out a laugh. "Very funny, Charles. No, I cannot watch her."

"What? James, why not?"

"Because—" and as James said this, he reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a silver timepiece, "—I have a date. And if I want to get there on time, I should be leaving now."

Charles took the pocket watch from his brother and checked the time. "It's 11 o'clock! Who has a date at 11am on a Wednesday?"

"I do," James said smugly, taking the watch back and grabbing his jacket.

Charles squinted at his brother. It had been a while since he had gone on a date—or at least had admitted it to him. "Is it that guy who lives down the street? The one who gives you googly eyes on Saturdays when you sell at the market?"

"Intrusive, much?"

"Or..." Charles thought hopefully. "Is it Cecilia's cousin, Henry?"

James rolled his eyes. "I don't know what your fascination is with that man."

"He's attractive," Charles said, listing the reasons on his fingers, "he's wealthy, and he's a Monroe. Think of it!" Charles grinned. "The two Mister Abbots hitched to the two Monroes. We'd be brothers by both blood and marriage, and the newest members of the wealthiest family in town."

James laughed and put on his hat. "Goodbye, brother," he said, and without answering any of Charles' burning questions, he turned and left.

Charles peered out the window, watching his brother's retreating form. It doesn't look like he's calling a carriage, he thought to himself, which means he must be meeting someone nearby...

The desire to snoop was strong, but his musings were interrupted by a, "So, what do we do next?"

Charles jumped, and then saw that Juliette was standing behind him, hands clasped together like a little angel.

Charles didn't know what to say for a moment. He genuinely liked children and knew he wanted a family of his own—Cecilia and him had talked at length about this—but he didn't know how to handle a mage child, particularly one with such an impressive array of powers.

"So," Charles said, starting with the truth, "I was thinking that I should get a little work done this afternoon and we can focus on catching the thief tomorrow."

"Okay. Sounds good." The girl still stood there, looking at him expectantly.

"Er..." Charles didn't know how to dismiss her and had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be able to even if he had the right words. So he finally asked, "Would you like to sit in my office as I work?"

The girl grinned widely. "Yes, Mister Abbot. I'd love that."

He led Juliette into the office, which looked nearly the same as it had the other night. However, there was one small difference. There was a new addition to his memory collection: the red, pulsating memory he had taken from the thief girl. James had put it up on the shelf at his request.

Charles hadn't had a chance to look at it since his run-in with her. He knew that if he had any chance against this girl and the people she was running from, he needed to scour the memory and glean as much information as he could from it. But he was apprehensive. It had been hard enough to witness the memory the first time; he didn't want to watch it all again.

Juliette leaned onto his desk, elbows pressing into papers and crinkling them. She pointed to the shelf full of vials. "Are these memories?"

"Yes," Charles said, "but be careful. Don't touch them."

She eyed the leather straps wrapped around each bottle. "What are those for?"

"To keep the memories in place," Charles said, appraising the colorful display. "Memories are interesting things—they always want to return to their original owner. The strap is a precaution; there have been a few times where I've forgotten to fasten one and the next morning there's been a broken vial on the floor and a missing memory."

"Wow. Does the memory fly back to the person then somehow?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't think so. I think they just vanish into thin air. A complete waste of time and energy."

This only made Juliette more intrigued. She looked at Charles, a smile on her face. "Can I look at one? Please?"

Charles hesitated. There was no way he was going to show her the thief's memory; it was much too dark for a child. But he thought he had one she could view. He reached up, took a yellow memory off the shelf, and poured it into his scrying bowl. As it swirled and undulated, he passed Juliette his scrying glass. "Peer through that into the bowl and you'll be able to watch the memory. But be careful not to touch it—if you do, it will seep in through your skin and become yours."

"And then you'll lose out on your profit," Juliette said astutely. "Got it."

She leaned forward and peered into the bowl. "Someone's at a beach," she said, watching the scene. "There's sand and... the water looks endless." She stared at it for a few minutes, lost in the scene, before she put down the scrying glass. "It's beautiful."

"Not the most exciting memory, I admit," Charles said, taking the bowl and tilting it so that the memory was back in its vial. "But I'm going to hold onto it until winter. Folks love a good memory of the sun in the dead of winter."

As he fastened the bottle back into place on the shelf, Juliette said, "I've never seen the beach before. Just read about it."

"A memory can be a decent substitute for the real thing," Charles said. "It's why people pay so much for them." He saw the wistful look in her eye and said, "We can go, if you like. Once we catch the thief and this whole mess is over."

Juliette frowned. "Mess? Seems like a strong word for a thief who just stole some of your things."

Charles felt a little stir in his gut. Right, he thought to himself. She still doesn't know what's going on. He took a breath. "Listen, Juliette, I should be honest with you. I didn't tell Mister Barnes the entire truth about my situation when I hired you."

Charles was surprised when Juliette merely shrugged. "That's alright. People rarely do. It's factored into his price." She tilted her head. "What did you actually hire me for?"

"I still need you to catch this thief. But it has nothing to do with stolen items. I met a woman the other night who asked me to take a memory from her. She claimed she was having horrible nightmares after she saw her mother being murdered, but it was all a lie. She had actually stumbled upon a cult doing... horrifically evil things." He didn't want to frighten her with tales of child sacrifice. "I think the thief wanted me to take the memory from her because she was being tracked by this cult for witnessing their activities. But since I'm the one with the memory now—"

"You'll be the next target," Juliette finished.

"Exactly," Charles said. "So once we capture her, I need to learn everything she knows. About this cult. About who might be involved. And I need to stop it or else I... I..." He trailed off, leaving his final words hanging in the air.

He felt strange being so vulnerable with a child, but Juliette simply nodded. There was an uncanny aura to her. She was precocious in a way that Charles wasn't sure was healthy for someone so young. "So since memories like to return to the source, I'm assuming we're going to use it to track her down?"

"Correct."

"And at that point I'll swoop in, do a little magick, and bring her here?"

"That's the goal," Charles said. "But I'm worried it might not be that easy. I don't know who's involved in this cult, who might be watching her, so we need to be as discreet as possible. And I was telling the truth when I said I don't know if she's a mage or takes strength potions or is just incredibly talented at combat."

Juliette waved his concerns away with a flick of her hand. "Don't worry, Mister Abbot. I've dealt with worse before. You should see some of the errands Mister Barnes has shipped me out for. We'll get her no problem tomorrow."

"Still," Charles said, "I want to be prepared. All I know about her is that she is an incredibly good liar, so we need to be careful. Which reminds me..." He looked at Juliette. "How good are your acting skills?"

Juliette's grin widened and she pressed her hands together excitedly. "Oh, Mister Abbot, this is going to be fun."