And then Kate watched as the girl skip-stepped a few paces ahead and turned back, lifting her phone to snap a picture of the boys. At the last minute, Freddie held up his hand in front of his face. He did it with a smile, but there was something to the gesture, and when the girl teasingly tried again, Freddie closed his eyes and looked away. Just like in his school photo.

It was such a small thing, really.

But as she watched him deflect, a ghost of panic crossing his face, a single word hissed through her head.

Monster.

It was ridiculous—absurd, paranoid—but it was there, and suddenly her thoughts were spiraling past the blurred picture on the Colton Academy page to the lack of photos anywhere on the updrive and the false name and the words scribbled in the margins and his protective parents and the stolen medal and his refusal to play for her and his rebuke and the way he looked at her, as if they shared a secret. Or as if he was keeping one.

Sunai, Sunai, eyes like coal.

Sing a song and steal your soul.

Kate reached for her phone. The girl gave up trying to snap photos, and Freddie disentangled himself from the other boy, waved good-bye, and began to walk away. Kate didn’t hesitate. She pulled up the camera on her cell and held the button down, snapping a sequence of shots before he could turn away.

A car honked behind her. It was the black sedan.

Kate climbed in, heart racing, fingers clenched around the cell’s screen. She didn’t look, not right away. She waited until the car pulled away from Colton, waited until the world began to blur beyond the windows.

And then, slowly, she looked at the phone.

It was a crazy theory, she knew, and she scrolled through the photos, half-expecting to see nothing but Freddie’s face staring back at her. In the first few shots, he was already looking away, and she swiped back through the rapid-fire sequence with nervous fingers, rewinding until the moment when his head was turned enough to show his face.

Her eyes tracked over the image, sliding over his uniform slacks and his crisp Colton polo to the bag on his shoulder and the dark hair falling across his cheeks and into his eyes . . . but there the illusion ended. Because his eyes weren’t their usual gray.

They were nothing but a smudge of black, a streak of darkness the camera couldn’t catch.

Have you ever seen a monster up close?

Kate slumped back against the seat.

Freddie Gallagher wasn’t an ordinary student.

He wasn’t even human.

Who are you?

Kate’s voice followed him onto the subway.

You don’t look like a Freddie.

It trailed him through the city.

I’m going to figure it out.

It tailed him on the street.

August was relieved when he made it to the top floor of the Flynn compound and found the place empty. He dropped his bag onto the bed next to Allegro, and sank into his chair, his thoughts spiraling.

I know it’s hard to believe, but not everything in this world is about you.

Why had he said that?

I thought you were better than this.

What had he done?

Not with a bang but a whimper.

A question.

Who are you?

Whoever you are . . .

I’m going to figure it out.

He tore off the iron pendant and lobbed it at the wall. It hit hard enough to dent the plaster before rolling across the floor. August put his head in his hands.

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you?

There was a knock on his door, and his head snapped up. Leo was standing there, filling the frame. “Get your coat,” he said. “We’re going out.”

August glanced at the window and was shocked to see the sun had gone down.

“Where?” he asked.

Leo held up a piece of paper. “Where do you think?”

August scrubbed his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care. Phillip’s in critical and Harris is out of commission, so tonight you’re with me.”

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve his brother’s attention, but he didn’t want it, not now, not like this. Leo had a reputation when it came to hunting.

“Everyone knows your face,” said August, scrambling. “If I go with you—”

“They’ll assume you’re a subordinate. Now get up.”

August swallowed and got to his feet. He reached for his violin case, but Leo stopped him. “Leave it.”

August blinked. “I don’t under—”

“You won’t need it tonight.”

He hesitated. His brother didn’t have any of his instruments, either. “Leo . . .”

“Come,” ordered his brother.

August’s hand slid from the violin case. As he trailed Leo through the apartment, he cast around, hoping to catch sight of Henry or Emily, a lifeline, someone to stop them. But his parents were nowhere to be found and Ilsa’s door was shut.

He didn’t ask where they were going. Away from the Seam and the city center, that much was obvious, into the grid, a tangle of darkened streets, broken buildings never salvaged. A place for addicts and ex-criminals looking to hide from FTF and Sunai alike.

“You’re quiet,” said his brother as they moved down the street. “What are you thinking about?”

August hated when Leo phrased questions that way, leaving little room for evasion. His head was a mess, and the last person he wanted near it was his older brother, but the answer still drifted to his lips. “Kate Harker.”

“What about her?”

A harder question to answer, because he wasn’t sure. Everything had been going fine. And then something had tipped, the balance had faltered, fallen. Why did everyone have to ruin the quiet by asking questions? The truth was a disastrous thing.

“August,” pressed Leo.

“She knows I’m keeping a secret.”

Leo glanced back. “But she doesn’t know what it is?”

August fidgeted. “Not yet.”

“Good,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm.

“How is that good?”

“Everyone has secrets. It’s normal.”

“None of my secrets are normal, Leo.” He shoved his hands in his coat. “I think I should pull out of Colton.”

“No.”

“But—”

Leo stopped. “If you suddenly pull out of school, they’ll figure out why. Your identity will be forfeit. I’m not willing to trade the possibility of trouble for the certainty of it.”