The square concrete courtyard between the Architecture Building and the Math Sciences Building was packed with students crossing between classes. Now that Claire knew what to look for, she couldn’t help but notice how many of them had bracelets—leather, metal, even braided cloth—with symbols on them.

And how many students didn’t.

The ones who wore the symbols were the shiny, confident ones. Sorority girls. Frat guys. Athletes. Popular kids. The loners, the sideliners, the dull and average and strange…they were the ones who weren’t Protected.

They were the cattle.

Shane was scanning the crowd. Claire kept walking quickly toward the Math Building; she knew for a fact that Monica wouldn’t be caught dead—or killing anybody—in a place that geeky. The only problem was that the third building on the Quad was the Business Administration Building, and that was, of course, where Monica liked to spend her time hanging out, looking for rich boys.

Almost there…

She was actually on the steps leading up to the Math Building when she heard Shane stop behind her. He was staring off into the Quad, and as Claire turned, she saw Monica, surrounded by a clique of admirers, staring right back at him. The two of them might as well have been alone. It was the kind of look that people in love exchanged, or people who were about to kill each other.

“Son of a bitch,” Shane breathed. He sounded shaken.

“Come on,” Claire said, and grabbed his elbow. She was afraid he wouldn’t let her pull him on, but he did, as if his mind was somewhere else. When he finally glanced at her, his eyes were dark and hard.

“Not here,” she said. “She won’t come in.”

“Why not?”

“It would embarrass her.”

He nodded slowly, as if that made sense to him, and followed her to class.

Claire had a hard time keeping her mind on the droning lecture, which was familiar anyway, and she’d read far ahead of where the professor was teaching…but mostly, she kept thinking about Shane, sitting motionless next to her, hands on the desk, staring blankly into space. He wasn’t even listening to his iPod. She could sense the tenseness in his body, like he was just waiting for the chance to hit something.

I knew this was a bad idea.

It was an hour-and-a-half lecture with a fifteen-minute break in the middle; when Shane got up and walked out, she hastily followed him. He went up to the glass doors and looked out over the Quad.

“She’s gone,” he said, without looking at Claire. “Quit worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“She—Eve said she burned your house.” No reply. “And—your sister—?”

“I couldn’t get her out,” Shane said. “She was twelve, and I couldn’t get her out of the house. That was my job. Watch out for her.”