“Then—what?” I’m hanging on to the tree again, because until there’s another plan in place, I need to get up there. “Should we call for help? Do you have a phone?”

“Anders.” Flynn lets out a breath. “You’re too late. It’s too late for all of this.”

He steps closer to me. Dim light from the sky coats the guitar case. I recognize it now. I know every tiny scratch on its hard silver surface. It’s Yvonne.

Wait. How did he get her? Has he been in my house?

The questions fly away when Flynn speaks again.

“You’ve only got one chance now,” he says.

“What?” My heart is screaming. I’ll do anything. “What?”

“You have to give in to them,” he says very clearly. “Anders. It’s over. You have to let them in.”

It’s like he’s punched me in the gut.

I told myself that Flynn kicking me out of the studio was my own stupid fault. That it was one more loss meant to punish me.

But maybe it was something else.

I stare at him. This close, I can make out a flickering darkness around his edges, like a knot of shadows that’s stuck to his skin.

It must’ve always been there. I just couldn’t see.

For a second I can’t breathe.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the knife. It’s solid in my fist. I don’t know how I’ll use it, and it’s so small and childish looking, I might as well be fighting a monster with a toothbrush. But holding it makes me the tiniest bit stronger.

Maybe this is why Thea threw it to me. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to saw off branches with a pocketknife. Maybe I was supposed to fight.

“Really, kid?” Flynn glances at the knife, then gives me a half grin. I can’t tell if he’s laughing at the knife or at me. “They’re stronger than you are. They’re faster. There are more of them. Besides, the things they can give you . . .” He sets Yvonne’s case on the ground. The silver lid shines. “You know what they can do, kid. Just accept it. Like you should have done forever ago. Then you wouldn’t have had to risk losing everything first.”

“Why?” I burst out. “Why are they doing this to me?”

“Doing this to you?” Flynn frown-smiles, shaking his head. “They chose you, Anders. You’re special. You’re exactly what they want. You’re going to be a rock star, adored by millions. What’s more powerful than that?”

For a second the words rock star, the image of myself onstage in front of a massive, screaming crowd, actually makes my heart lift. Then I hate myself for it.

“I don’t care about that,” I say. Lie. “But if—if I give in—” I look up. Frankie sways from the bony black twigs. Mom’s unconscious face tilts toward me. “Will they be all right?”

Flynn gives a little shrug. “Sure. Of course.” He gestures down at Yvonne, lying on the dirt. “Plus, the songs will come back. The ones you were writing. You’ll be able to play again. As well as you did before, maybe even better.” He meets my eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed that.”