A young blonde girl was crying in the middle of the street.

Mud spattered her face and britches. Her tangled hair fell in messy clumps around her reddened cheeks.

None of the high-class folks spared her a second look. A child alone without their mother? That would normally be a cause for concern. But a poor child without their mother? That was just a reality of the day.

And so no one paid her any heed... except for the woman with shining black skin who lurked in the shadows. A thief.

The thief stared at the little girl for a long time before finally approaching her.

"You all right?" she asked quietly.

The blonde child looked up at her with wide, shining eyes. "N-no. I can't find my mother." She pointed towards an alley. "She told me to wait here for her... said she had to do something. But... it's been hours. And I haven't eaten anything all day and I'm... I'm scared... I'm scared something..." She started crying again.

The thief didn't say anything for a while. She stared at the little girl, then glanced around uncomfortably. "I don't know where your mother is, but I can get you something to eat."

"You can?"

She nodded and reached for the little girl's hand. "Come on—" she started to say, but suddenly her words were cut off.

Had anyone been paying attention, they would have seen the thief's eyes bulge and her fingers claw at her throat. They also would have noticed that the little girl was no longer crying. Instead, she was moving her fingers like a puppeteer.

The thief let go of the girl's hand and started to run, but her gait was clumsy from the lack of air and she stumbled straight into the arms of a well-to-do gentleman.

"Are you all right?" the man asked, surreptitiously waving an uncorked vial of silver liquid under her nose.

The thief only responded by collapsing more fully into his arms.

The blonde girl walked over to the man. "Oh dear," she said, "looks like she's fainted, Mister Abbot. We should call a carriage and take her home."

"My dear Juliette," Charles said, pocketing the sleeping potion with a smile, "that is such a considerate idea! Let us do just that!"

And that was how the gentleman and the child captured the thief and no one saw a thing.

An hour later, Charles was sitting in the parlor with James and Juliette, watching the lightning cage as if it were some sort of spectacle.

Juliette had crafted it with her magick—after she had taken a proper bath and washed the mud out of her hair, of course. The cage was made entirely of lightning, and the bolts sputtered, sparked, and hissed, casting crazy colors across the parlor walls and ceiling.

And inside the cage, lying fast asleep on the floor, was the thief.

James eyed the wood floors with a frown. "That lightning is going to scorch the hardwoods," he muttered to Charles.

Charles ignored him and turned to Juliette. She was sitting calmly on the settee, reading a book she had taken from the small library upstairs. "Doesn't this tire you out? Keeping up a cage like this?"

Juliette looked up from her page and shook her head. "As long as she's within ten feet of me, I won't tire for hours. Maybe even days. I bet you I could keep it up half-asleep."

Charles nodded. "Impressive."

James meanwhile ran his hand up and down the arm of his chair. "I can't believe we're doing this right now," he mumbled.

Charles heard the judgmental tone in his brother's voice and frowned. "Do you have a better idea?" he asked, gesturing to their captive. "This girl put our lives in danger. And it's not like she's some innocent little lamb—she had three knives hidden in her clothes!"

James opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off when the thief let out a soft groan.

Charles sat up quickly. His heart was racing, but instead of nerves, he felt a strange undercurrent of excitement. He was the one in control now, not this thief. Now he would get some answers. "Look alive everyone," he said, rubbing his palms together.

"Right!" Juliette said, shutting her book with a grin.

James, meanwhile, only frowned.

They all watched anxiously as the thief began to rouse. She rubbed her face, then blinked her eyes—and, when she suddenly realized where she was, she scrambled to sit up. Her hand instinctively went for the bar of the cage, but when the lightning stung her flesh, she jerked her arm back with a cry of pain.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," Juliette said with a sweet smile. "It burns like hell."

The thief glared at her, clearly recognizing her from the square. "You little brat!" she hissed, pulling her shawl across her chest. "I was trying to help you!"

"Hey now, be nice!" Charles said, drawing her attention to him. "She isn't the one responsible for this. I am. Remember me?"

The girl did recognize him; he could see it in her eyes. "Charles Abbot," she said, breathing his name like a curse.

"Correct."

The thief's gaze darted around the parlor. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"Your memory made that a piece of cake," Charles said, pulling the vial with the glowing red memory out of his pocket. It seemed to radiate even more vividly in the presence of its original owner. "By the way, we hope you enjoyed the show—I know you like to pretend and I felt that it'd be rude if I didn't offer you the same treatment you offered me."

The thief tried to keep her face neutral, but her eyes were locked on the glowing vial. And although he could have easily been imagining it, Charles thought he saw the tiniest hint of fear in her eyes.

"So," Charles continued, "do you have any idea why you're here?"

The girl pressed her lips together and sent him a defiant glare.

Charles pointed to his bruised temple, where the skin was tinged a ghastly mix of blue and yellow. "First of all, that wasn't very nice. And secondly, you roped me into something that I did not want to be roped into."

"I didn't rope you into anything," she spat. "I told you not to look at the memory."

"Ah, okay. So you do remember some things. That's good to know."

"I only remember that I did what I had to do to keep myself safe."

"Yes, well, your plan put me in an incredible amount of danger. Did you really think getting rid of the memory would keep you safe?" Charles stood up, smoothing down the front of his vest.

"What are you going to do to me?" the thief asked, eyes narrowed at his looming frame.

"First thing I'm going to do is give you your memory back," Charles said.

The thief scrambled backwards as he took a step towards her. "No!" she cried out, but Charles was prepared for this.

"Juliette," he said.

The little girl cracked her knuckles and fiddled her fingers in the air. At her command, the cage changed, lightning shifting and reforming in a terrifying display. The thief shrank back, curling into a ball to shield herself. But she was so immersed in her task that she didn't notice that Charles had knelt besides her. A second later, he reached a hand through the bars of the cage and brushed his finger against the back of her neck.

She flinched as his flesh touched hers, but it was too late. The memory flew out of the bottle, conducting through Charles like electricity down a wire, and then slammed back into the thief.

"Ahh!" she shouted. Her hand darted to her head, fingers winding through her dark black curls as Juliette returned the cage to its original form. Her eyes were screwed up tightly as the memory took root in her brain. But then, she looked up at Charles with darkness in her eyes. "You're a monster."

"I think my definition of the word might be a little different from yours," he said. "Whoever those people in cloaks are? They look like monsters." He sat back down on the sofa. "Now, I need your cooperation. You need to tell me everything you know."

"You saw my memory," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know what I saw."

"Not exactly," Charles said. "There were bits missing. It was like I was jumping ahead through time. I need you to fill in the gaps."

The thief's eyes sparkled, and for a moment, she seemed to relax. She leaned back on her arms. "Huh. Charles Abbot, the great memory mage, couldn't even extract my memory in one piece? For shame."

Charles felt his cheeks burn. "It had nothing to do with my skill."

"Really?" And now the thief had pitched her voice up high. "I... I've never taken a memory away before," she quoted, eyes shining with fake fear. "There could be side effects—"

Charles slammed his hand down onto one of the end tables. James flinched, but the thief remained stoic, staring at him intently. "Tell me what you know!" Charles shouted.

"And then what?" the thief hissed. "You're going to kill me?"

"That wasn't my intention, but you're trying my last nerve!"

"Charles—" James started hesitantly.

"Shut it!" Charles shouted back at his brother. He crossed his hands over his chest. He could feel his face burning with anger. The girl had gotten under his skin; he hadn't expected that. He took a breath, tried to keep his voice level. "I need you to tell me what you know so that we can both survive this."

"Hah," the girl laughed. "I honestly doubt that."

"What do you mean?" Charles demanded.

"So that we both survive this?" she quoted, shaking her head. "You don't care about me. All you care about is what's in here." She tapped her head. "And once I'm used up, you'll have no more use for me." She glared at him. "I know how this will play out."

"I'm not that kind of person," Charles said, surprised that he felt offended by her comment.

The girl only rolled her eyes and laid down on the ground.

It took Charles a moment to realize what she was doing, but it quickly became apparent that she was done talking. She seemed content to lie on the wooden floor and feign sleep.

Charles' jaw dropped, and he found that the rage that had been building in him earlier had returned. Only this time, it was more subtle. It burned and hissed like a snake.

"You're putting us all in danger. You need to tell us what you know," he demanded.

His request was only met with silence.

Charles' hands balled into fists. "Please," he added through gritted teeth. He couldn't believe he had stooped to begging, but still the thief refused to speak.

This was too much for Charles. Feeling the hot rush of anger flooding through his body, he turned to leave the room.

James scrambled to his feet, chasing after him. "Charles, where are you going?"

"I refuse to waste my time with her." He glanced over his shoulder, looked at the girl whose eyes were closed. "If you aren't going to talk, then enjoy your time in the cage!" he shouted. "We'll see how long you can go without food. Hopefully time will loosen your tongue."

This caught Juliette's attention. "Uh... Mister Abbot..." she said, raising a finger, but Charles wasn't having any of it and stormed out of the room.