“I’m not snitching,” Kali scoffs, like that didn’t even occur to her. “The detective”—she gestures at Constantine, gold bracelets jangling—“asked what happened on Friday, and I told the truth the way I know it to be. I’m sure you did the same.”

“Please don’t be surprised when you find her lying in a ditch tomorrow morning,” I say, shoving up and out of the chair. Once in the hallway, I find Oscar waiting again. He seems to like hovering around to see if I’ll fuck up.

“What?” I ask, but he just shakes his head slightly.

“Not everything is about you, Bernadette; I’m here to monitor Kali.” Oscar leans back against the rusted lockers and crosses his arms over his suit jacket, button-down, and tie. He watches me carefully as I approach but keep my distance at the same time. “Anything to report?”

“Officer Young’s using her to pick at us. She basically admitted that Kali was a snitch, to see if we’d move on her.” Oscar just smiles at my explanation, his lips a razor-sharp slash across the bottom of his wicked face. He knows as well as I do that we won’t have to do anything to see that Kali gets a spanking from the students of Prescott.

“Fantastic. I’d hate it if something were to happen to the good officer, after all the hard work she’s putting into this case.” Oscar keeps his gray eyes focused on Ms. Keating’s door as he lounges in the shadows, his feet encased in a pair of those pretty loafers with the metal skulls on the tops.

“You can’t hurt her, you know,” I tell him, and he shifts his unyielding attention over to me. “Sara Young. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“And you are not the morality police,” Oscar explains as my nostrils flare with anger. Motherfucker. “When it comes to your list, we are on your schedule and your whim. Otherwise, you are the same as any of us: just one sixth of a slice of Havoc.”

“You’re so fucking rude, you know that?” I snap back at him, knowing this isn’t the time or place for us to have a conversation about anything personal. Oh well. “Why did you run out on me? Seriously. I thought we were getting somewhere. You told me you were trying to keep my flame from being snuffed out; you said I was incandescent.”

He stares back at me like he’s trying to decipher a complex chemical reaction.

“I think I know why you ran,” I say, and he extends a pale hand, his palm the only part of it that isn’t wrapped in ink.

“Do tell then, Bernadette. Enlighten me on my own motivations.”

“You said you didn’t like that I let them touch me, after everything they’d done. Yet, you did it, too. You made love to me, Oscar. Don’t try to deny that. Trust me: I’ve been fucked plenty of times and that was not what we did.”

He just keeps smirking at me, his expression stoic and distant, very fae-like. Oscar could curdle milk with that stare of his.

“Sometimes men compliment women to get what they want, Bernadette. Don’t be so self-absorbed. As I said, not everything is about you—despite what the others might make you think. The sun doesn’t rise and set on your whim.” Oscar pushes up off the locker and slips out the back door, the same way he went before. That is, most definitely not to class.

I hang back slightly to watch him, curious as to where he’s going.

He ends up leaving through the hole in the fence behind the dumpster, passing by Hael’s Camaro as he stalks across the pavement and down the sidewalk. I keep pace, making sure I keep my eyes out for hiding places, in case he turns around.

He doesn’t.

But he does start to walk faster, to the point where I’m struggling to keep up with his long-legged strides and cursing under my breath. Eventually, I lose him near a busy market and end up having to turn and head back to the high school.

About three blocks later, I feel the barrel of a gun press into the side of my head followed by a very audible click as a hammer is pulled back on a revolver.

“Tsk-tsk, Bernadette,” Oscar says as I freeze in place, my eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of me. People pass by on the opposite side of the street, but nobody looks too closely at what we’re doing. Probably a smart choice on their parts. He grinds the gun in just a bit harder. “I could've blown your brains out; you aren't to follow anyone until I say otherwise.” Oscar withdraws the revolver and tucks it into his suit jacket. I glance his way, still struggling to get my panicked heartbeat under control; on the outside, I stay calm. “I’ll also be informing Victor that you left campus without alerting anyone as to your plans. Understand this is a fundamental safety and training issue that requires immediate resolution.”

“Immediate resolution,” I echo with a snort, turning my head to look at him. He leans one shoulder against the brick wall on his right, crossing his legs at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. I swear, even with the December breeze, I can smell cinnamon in the air. “You’re not a robot, so stop talking like one. We had messy, weird, awkward sex, Oscar Montauk. Like people sometimes do. Despite your ideas to the contrary, you’re still human.”

“I am not human,” he says, but he doesn’t raise his voice or shift his position at all. That statement is dropped like straight fact. “I have not been human for years. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am.”

“You’re not human, but yet, you panicked and ran away from me. You’re still too cowardly to talk about it honestly. Fine. Victor said we should define our own relationships.” I shake my head and sigh, turning back toward Prescott High. I can see its brick exterior looming just a few blocks down the way. “I see that for you, a Havoc Girl is just another recruit to boss around and talk down to. Got it. Message received, Oscar.”

I start off down the sidewalk when his long fingers wrap my wrist and yank me hard into the alley. He shoves me back against the brick wall and slams his palms down on either side of my head.

“Stop poking and prodding at me, Bernadette,” he snarls, but clearly, he dragged me in here for a reason. Oscar closes his eyes for a moment, giving me a chance to study his face. He’s furious right now, his skin taut, mouth set in a thin line. But at who, or why, I’m not sure. He isn’t human, remember? He opens his eyes to look at me again, and I can’t help but admire the watercolor-like effect of his gray irises. If you really look at them, I guess they’re blue, but there’s very little pigment. “Can’t you just be happy with four unworthy cocks vying for your attention?”

“My relationships with any of the other boys have nothing to do with my relationship to you,” I say, moving as if to duck beneath Oscar’s arm and leave. He stops me by putting his left hand on my throat and pushing me back into the wall. Before I can even think up what to say, he crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me with so much passion that my knees buckle slightly. My fingers dig into the brick wall behind me as Oscar’s left hand tightens slightly and then loosens, releasing me abruptly.

“Come with me,” he says, standing up and then fleeing the alley before I can get a read on his facial expression. I jog to catch up and then force myself to match his pace. It’s a punishing one, but I could use the exercise.

“Where are we going?” I ask, but he just glances briefly down at me and says nothing else. He’s so goddamn verbose and loquacious when there’s business to discuss. Bring up feelings and he shuts the fuck down. I decide that wherever we’re going, I should get some answers, at the very least, so I stick with it.