the memory of the Corsai and pulling her features back into alignment. She smoothed the collar of her Colton-issued polo, ran a hand over her pale hair. It was loose, parted to cover the scars where her head had struck the glass. It could have been worseâthe hearing loss was partialâbut she knew better than to let it show. It was a weakness all the same and weaknesses should never showâthatâs what Harker told her, back when she was twelve and the scars were all fresh.
âWhy?â sheâd asked, because sheâd been young and stupid.
âEvery weakness exposes flesh,â heâd said, âand flesh invites a knife.â
âWhat are your weaknesses?â sheâd asked him, and Harkerâs mouth had become something that almost looked like a smile, but wasnât one.
To this day, heâd never answered that question. Kate didnât know if it was because her father didnât trust her with his weaknesses, or because he didnât have any. Not anymore. But she wondered if there was another version of Callum Harker in one of those other worlds, and if that one had secrets, and weaknesses, and places where knives could get.
âMiss Harker,â said the driver. âYour father wanted me to pass along a message.â
She slipped her silver lighter into her shirt pocket. âWhatâs that, Marcus?â she asked blandly.
âIf you get yourself expelled, heâll ship you out of Verity. One way. For good.â
Kate flashed a cool grin. âWhy would I get myself expelled?â she said, looking up at the school. âIâm finally where I want to be.â
âPark Station,â announced a calm, metallic voice.
August sank back against the train seat and tugged a well-read copy of The Republic from his backpack, opening it to the middle. He knew most of the text by heart, so it didnât matter which page he landed on. What mattered was that it gave him a reason to be looking down instead of up. He listened to the stops as they were announced, not willing to risk an upward glance at the grid in case he caught the attention of the cameras above. More little red eyes looking for monsters, even though everyone knew they all came out at night.
Well, thought August. Almost all.
âMartin Center.â
Three stops to Colton. The subway car was filling up, and August stood, offering up his seat to an old woman. He kept his head bowed over the book, but his eyes trailed across the passengers, in their nice dresses andslacks, heels and suits, and not a weapon in sight.
A man jostled his shoulder as he squeezed past, and August tensed.
There was nothing unusual about the man himselfâsuit and tie, a bit slack around the middleâit was his shadow that caught Augustâs eye. It didnât behave as a shadow shouldâin such a well-lit space, he shouldnât even have oneâbut when the man stopped, the shadow kept moving, twitching and shifting around him like a restless passenger. No one else could see it, but to Augustâs eyes, it loomed in the air, a ghostly thing with too many features for a shadow, too few for a man. August knew it for what it was, an echo of violence, a mark of sin. Somewhere in the city, a monster lived and killed because of this man, because of something heâd done.
Augustâs fingers tightened on the pole.
If they were in South City, he would learn the manâs name. It would be handed to himâor Leoâon a slip of paper along with an address, and he would find him in the night, silence the echo, and claim his life.
But this was North City.
Where bad people got away with everything, so long as they had the cash.
August tore his eyes away as the old woman sitting on the bench leaned forward.
âIâve always wanted to be on stage,â she said in a confiding voice. âI donât know why Iâve never done it. Iâm afraid itâs too late now. . .