Trent slowed as he stepped upon the bridge. His expressive eyebrows were slanted, and I remembered his fear when Algaliarept had turned into me. There was only one reason the demon would have done that. Trent was afraid of me, either for still falsely thinking I had set Algaliarept on him, or for having snuck into his office three times in as many weeks, or for me knowing what he was.

“None of the above,” he said, his casual shoes scuffing as he came to a halt.

A wash of cold shocked through me. “I beg your pardon?” I stammered, pulling myself up and away from the railing.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

I stared, his liquid voice melting itself into the chatter of water surrounding us.

“And I can’t read your mind, either, just your face.”

My breath came in a soft sound and I shut my mouth. How had I lost control so fast?

“You took care of the troll, I see,” he said.

“Detective Glenn, too,” I said as I touched my hair to be sure my curls hadn’t escaped my braid. “He won’t bother us unless you do something stupid.”

His eyes tightened at the insult. He didn’t move, keeping that same five feet between us. “Where’s your pixy?” he asked.

Irritation pulled me straight. “His name is Jenks, and he’s somewhere else. He doesn’t know, and I’d just as soon keep it that way as he has a big mouth.”

Trent visibly relaxed. He went to stand opposite me, the narrow width of the bridge between us. It had been hard to slip Jenks this afternoon, and Ivy finally stepped in, taking him out on a nonexistent run. I think she was actually going for doughnuts.

Sharps was playing with the ducks, pulling them under to bob to the surface and fly away quacking. Turning from the sight, Trent leaned his back against the railing and crossed one ankle against another, his position mirroring mine exactly. We were two people meeting by chance, sharing a few words and the sun. Ri-i-i-i-ight.

“If it gets out,” he said, his eyes on the distant bathroom behind me, “I’ll make the records concerning my father’s little camp public. You and every one of those sorry little snots will be tracked down and treated like lepers. That is if they don’t simply cremate you out of fear something will mutate and start another Turn.”

My knees went loose and watery. I had been right. Trent’s father had done something to me, fixed whatever had been wrong. And Trent’s threat wasn’t idle. The best-case scenario would involve a one-way ticket to the Antarctic. I moved my tongue around on the inside of my mouth, trying to find enough spit to swallow. “How did you know?” I asked, thinking my secret was more deadly than his.

Eyes fixed to mine, he pushed the sleeve of his shirt up to show a nicely muscled arm. The hair was bleached from the sun and his skin was well-tanned. A ragged scar marred its even smoothness. My eyes rose to his, reading an old anger.