"Inquisitor?" he shot back, and then, to her relief, he said, "Youngest. You?"

She liked that he asked, even though he had to know.

"Only," she answered.

In the distance the lunch bell rang, and Kate hesitated, but Freddie showed no signs of turning back. Instead he slumped down against a tree, his back against the trunk. Kate sank against its neighbor and mirrored the pose. Freddie dug a crisp, green apple from his bag and held it out.

Who are you?

She reached for the fruit, fingers purposefully brushing his, and again she relished the small shiver that went through him, as if the contact were something foreign, something new.

She took a bite and handed the apple back. He rolled it between his palms.

What are you hiding?

"I wish the rest of the city were like this," he said softly.

"Empty? Green?"

"Peaceful," he said, passing her the apple. He never took a bite.

She traced her thumb along her own teeth marks. "Have you ever seen a monster up close?"

Freddie chewed his lip. "Yes. You?"

Kate raised a brow. "My father keeps a Malchai as a pet."

His eyes narrowed, but all he said was, "I prefer cats."

Kate snorted and tossed the apple back. "So do I."

Their voices trailed off, and for a second it was there, that glimpse of easy silence. A gust of wind rustled the branches overhead, sending down a shower of dying leaves, and between the fruit in his hand and his colorless eyes and the golden leaf stuck in his black curls, Freddie Gallagher looked more like a painting than a boy.

Who are you? she wanted to ask.

Instead she reached for the apple, and took another bite.

All afternoon, the questions ate at her. The longer they'd stayed in the forest, the louder the doubt. About him. About her. Maybe there was a simple answer for the alias. Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe sometimes people had good reasons to hide. To lie.

But Kate wanted to know the truth.

She was halfway down the hall when she heard the violin.

She'd gotten out of her last class a few minutes early from a test and was killing time until the final bell. Her steps slowed as she listened, assuming-hoping-it was Freddie. A glimpse of truth among the mysteries. The music was coming from a classroom down the hall; as she reached the door, it stopped, followed by the screeching of chairs and equipment. She peered in through the glass insert and saw the orchestra students packing up. The bell rang, and as they poured out, she scanned the class for Freddie, but she didn't see him.

"Hey," she said to a guy hauling what looked like a cello. He blanched a little when he realized she was talking to him. "Is there a Gallagher in your class?"

"Who?"

"Freddie Gallagher," she said. "Tall, thin, black hair, plays the violin?"

The guy shrugged. "Sorry, never seen him."

Kate swore under her breath, and the cellist took the opportunity to escape.

The halls were thinning, and she backtracked to the lockers, reaching them in time to see Freddie packing up his bag. She shot a look at the student one locker down and the girl fled. Kate leaned her shoulder against the metal.

"Hey."

"Hey," he said, shuffling his books. "I keep finding pieces of forest stuck to my clothes."

"I brushed myself off," she said. "Wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea."

He stared at her blankly. "What do you mean?"

She stared at him. He stared back. And then a streak of color shot across his cheeks. "Oh."

She rolled her eyes, then remembered her purpose and nodded at the locker. "No violin?"

"It's at home."

"I figured you were in orchestra."

Freddie cocked his head. "I never said I was."

"Then why bring it?"

"What?"

She shrugged. "Why bring the violin to school, if you're not in orchestra?"

Freddie closed the locker, not with a crash like everyone else, but with a soft, decisive click. "If you really want to know, I can't play at home because the walls are too thin. Colton has music rooms, the soundproof kind. So, that's why I brought it."

Kate felt her conviction slipping. "Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice light, teasing. "But if you're not in orchestra, when am I supposed to hear you play?"

A wall went up behind Freddie's eyes. "You're not."

The words landed like a blow. "Why not?" she asked, temper rising.

He slung his bag onto his shoulder. "I told you, Kate. I don't play for anyone."

"I'm not anyone," she snapped, flushing, suddenly hurt. "I'm a Harker."

Freddie gave her a disparaging look. "So what?"

"So you don't say no to me, not like that."

He actually laughed-a single, icy bark-and shook his head. "You really believe that, don't you? That this whole city revolves around what you want, because you have money and power and everyone's too afraid to tell you no." He leaned in. "I know it's hard to believe, Kate, but not everything in this world is about you." He pulled back. "Honestly, I thought you were better than this. I guess I was wrong."

Kate recoiled, stunned. Her face burned, and anger flared through her, hot as coals. Freddie turned to go, but her hand hit the locker beside his head, barring his path. "Who are you?"

Confusion spread across his face. "What?"

"Who. Are. You?" He tried to knock her hand away, but she caught his wrist and pushed him back against the locker. She'd had enough. Enough games. Enough dancing around the point. "You know what I mean, Freddie." She brought her metal-glossed nails to the pendant on his shirt. "You really don't look like a Freddie. Or a Frederick. Or a Gallagher."

His eyes narrowed. "Let go of me, Kate."

She leaned in. "Whoever you really are," she whispered, "I'm going to figure it out."

Just then another body came crashing, an arm thrown around Freddie's shoulders.

"There you are!" said the boy loudly. "Been looking for you everywhere!" The kid flashed Kate an apologetic smile while pulling Freddie free of her grip. She let her hand fall away. "We're going to be late. For that thing. You know. The party thing." He tugged Freddie down the hall. "You didn't forget, did you? Come on ..."

The other boy waved good-bye without a backward glance, but Freddie cast a last, unreadable look her way before the two disappeared around the corner.

Anger rolled through her as Kate stormed out of the school.

She tapped another pill out of the vial Dr. Landry had given her and tossed it back, berating herself for letting Freddie of all people crack her calm. Stupid, stupid, stupid-but she thought he liked her, thought he got her, let him get under her skin. Idiot. If she'd learned anything from her father, it was that composure was control. Even if it was just an illusion.

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

The rage flared fresh.

I thought you were better than this.

Who did he think he was?

I guess I was wrong.

Who was he?

Kate reached the lot, but the black sedan wasn't there yet. She paced and tried to take a few steadying breaths, but it didn't help. She could feel her nerves rattling like loose change inside her chest. She perched on a bench and dug a cigarette out of the box in her bag, shoving the filter between her lips as she watched the students pour out of the school like ants.

"Miss Harker!" called an administrator as she reached for her lighter. "We have a strict no-smoking policy on campus."

Kate considered the man. She was in the mood for a fight, but the more logical part of her recognized this wasn't the right one. "Let me guess," she said, returning the cigarette to its box. "It's a health ..."

She was going to say risk, but something caught her eye.

They were striding across the lawn, Freddie and the short boy and a girl she didn't know. The boy and the girl were smiling, and Freddie was doing that the thing people do-the flickering grin and the nod-when they want you to think they're paying attention but they're not.

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.

VII.

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.