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forward, snuffed out the fire in one hand and pulled the nearest box toward me. A scratching sound scraped through the silence.
    Status: Empty.
    All the boxes on the lower shelf had been emptied. Maybe the city hadn’t been abandoned as fast as I’d supposed. I extinguished my other hand and let my eyes adjust to the dark.
    After a few minutes, I could see well enough to hoist myself onto the shelf in front of me. Boxes: Barren.
    I climbed up another shelf. Status: Dusty.
    Then another. The top shelf held boxes that hadn’t been opened. I slashed through the tape with the sentry knife and pulled out two cans.
    They had pop-top lids that grated on my nerves when I peeled them off. The smell wafting from the cans made my mouth water. I drained them both, balking a little at the chunks of meat. At least I thought it was supposed to be meat. Either way, the stew would provide enough energy to keep me going.
    I had to travel light, so I only took four cans of stew, shoving one in each of my pockets, glad my jeans were of the cargo variety. The last two cans went in my coat pockets.
    I jumped down from the tower of shelves just as lights buzzed on overhead. I crouched, squinting in the bright light. I’d only heard stories about electricity , the man-made light people used before the Manifestation.
    “I knew you weren’t gone. Stand up, I already see you.” The young voice, still so familiar, sliced through the emptiness in the warehouse.
    I straightened slowly. The Crylon sentry stood just inside the plastic door, a knife in one hand, and the other positioned in front of his body for balance.
    His attack stance.
    My own hands hung limply at my sides, the stolen knife tucked in my waistband. Without moving my head, I glanced around. What I saw: Shelves and more shelves.
    “Gabriella Kilpatrick, you’re under arrest. You killed seventeen Elemental students in the northern barracks at the training school in the city of Crylon.”
    “I did not,” I murmured, though it sounded like a shout in the spacious warehouse.
    The sentry’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. Without warning, he launched the knife. I dodged to the left and raised my hand. The blade skimmed my coat before embedding in the door behind me.
    The ping! of metal on metal registered in my brain as I threw a plume of fire down the aisle. A couple of empty boxes caught the flames, and the soothing smell of smoke filled my head.
    “You killed Harriett,” he said, stamping his steaming boots to extinguish the fire.
    “A Watermaiden ought to be able to quench the flames,” I shot back.
    “So it’s her fault?”
    I shrugged. I hated Harriet Thornton, but that didn’t mean I’d torched her barracks. “I’m not saying that. I didn’t set that blazing fire.”
    “When did your Element Manifest?”
    I didn’t see why he cared, but I couldn’t think of a reason not to tell him. “Last fall.”
    “Why didn’t you report it?”
    Hot infernos. “I—”
    “Do you know what the Supreme Elemental does to liars?”
    “You don’t work for him.”
    “Everyone works for him.” The scorn in his voice nagged at me again.
    I hadn’t been paying attention, and the sentry had moved halfway down the aisle. “Don’t come any closer.” I raised my hands into my own attack stance, which was way less impressive than his.
    “Why? You afraid you’ll recognize me? I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”
    I studied his face. His square jaw sloped up into hollow cheeks. His brown eyes and brown hair weren’t extraordinary, except for a white spot of hair above his right ear.
    “Patches,” I breathed out. I didn’t know which emotion ran hotter: Relief or rage.
    Patches grinned, a gesture without happiness. “You do remember.”
    “How could I forget? We lived together until you turned twelve. You—” I took a step forward, but he drew another knife. The motion was fluid, unrushed, and precise.
    “Gabby—”
    “Don’t you dare,” I said, the sound