“Scheisse,” she muttered, at the same moment someone said, “Aufpassen!”

Attention. The word was as hard as a slap against her cheek. When she jerked her head up and looked into the eyes of the person who’d said it, her heart dropped into her stomach.

He was tall, broad, and hawk-nosed, with a cutthroat smile and eyes that never blinked, in the way of a snake. His uniform was crisp, the brass medals on his chest gleamed in the light from the streetlamp. The automatic weapon slung over his shoulder gleamed, too.

“Apologies, leutnant,” Lu said smoothly, swallowing the acid taste of fear. She adopted a fake smile and a blank expression, a talent she’d cultivated to perfection. “How stupid of me. I was just thinking how wonderful Thornemas Day is; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She added brightly, “Can’t wait for the fireworks tonight!”

Dieter Gerhardt smiled down at her from his considerable height. Lieutenant of the district’s ironically named Peace Guard, he was smug and skin crawlingly familiar, never missing the opportunity to stand a little too close, to stare a little too long. He’d always taken a particular interest in her, and she tried to avoid him at all costs. In spite of his enviable upper Second Form position that had some of the other Third Form girls clamoring for his attention, he scared Lu. She had the unsettling sense that he might at any moment crack open his jaw and eat her alive.

“Ja,” he said. Then because of course he would, he lifted his hand and slowly brushed his fingers over her chin, wiping away the coffee.

A flash of anger made her face flush. Lu lowered her lashes to hide the rage in her eyes. Still with her pasted-on smile, she turned her cheek and rubbed her face with her gloved hand. “I must look a mess. Thankfully I didn’t get any on you.”

Pig. Maggot. Arschloch!

“Too bad. Then you might have had to make it up to me.”

His trademark cutthroat grin appeared, accompanied by a carnivorous once-over. His gaze lingered on her hips, the swell of her breasts beneath her coat. Her flush deepened. A violent itch bloomed in the palms of her hands.

Her laugh was breezy. “Well, I’m off to work. Happy Thornemas to you.” She started to brush past him, but he caught her under her arm. Dieter pulled her closer, his breath sliding down her neck.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh.” Scheisse! “Thank you, but you don’t have to bother—”

“It’s no bother,” Dieter said, a hint of hardness in his voice, “as I’m already going that way. And these streets are dangerous for a girl like you.”

A girl like me?

He must have sensed the sudden tension in her body, because he laughed, low and pleased, chucking a knuckle under her chin. “Don’t worry, vögelchen, with me by your side, no one will mess with you. No matter how pretty you are.” He gave her braid a firm tug to underscore the word pretty, and Lu had to fight hard to resist the urge to scratch his eyes out of his face.

Her smile was sweet, as was her murmur, “Danke,” though the word tasted bitter in her mouth. With his hand an unwanted presence on the small of her back, a command and a threat wrapped into one, Dieter moved her forward. As they walked side by side down the busy street, people scurried aside, their glances filled with trepidation before they ducked their heads and looked away. Even out of the UV protective over suits they wore during the daylight hours when they hunted, members of the Peace Guard had a certain “I’ll gut you” vibe that everyone understood was based entirely on fact.

The guns didn’t help, either.

Be calm. Smile. Breathe.

Dieter walked with the unhurried, cocksure stride of one who’s used to being obeyed. His hand found its way back under her arm, and his fingers tightened ever so slightly as they walked. He nodded to a few people, said hello to others, but never loosened his grip. Lu had the uncomfortable feeling she was being herded.

It was a silent, ten-minute walk through the tangled lanes of New Vienna to the Hospice. By the time they arrived, her nerves were wound bowstring tight. Her jaw ached with the effort of smiling.

The Hospice building was one of those awful, square brick institutional affairs guaranteed to evoke depression in whomever passed through its doors. Squat and ugly, it sat hulking atop the rise of a low hill, surrounded by brown grass and the occasional withered tree. Glazed windows like dead eyes and finials on the black courtyard gate lent it a sinister air, which today seemed amplified by a thousand thanks to her escort.

Still with that proprietary hand under her arm, Dieter said in an offhand tone, “I’m told the Grand Minister will be visiting tonight. Something about a disturbance. Must be important if the GM himself is coming to check it out.” His gaze slid sideways and down, fixing on her.

Dread unfurled in the pit of her stomach. Lu cleared her throat and pretended ignorance. “The Grand Minister? Really? Well, it doesn’t surprise me. There’ve been a few odd incidents over the past months. I hear he’s brilliant, though. I’m sure he’ll . . .” she cleared her throat again. “I’m sure he’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Dieter’s gaze intensified. He made a sound she might have taken for amusement, but for the total lack of humor in it. “Yes. He will. Nothing ever escapes him.” His fingers pressed harder into her arm. His voice lowered an octave. “Nothing.”

Lu’s heart began a thundering gallop so loud she was sure Dieter would be able to hear it. For a moment she simply stood silently, the foolish smile dying on her lips. She stared straight ahead at the Hospice, her mouth as dry as bone.

In a voice so low Lu nearly missed it over the chatter of a group of passing schoolgirls, Dieter said, “If they bring the ocular scan equipment, you’re done for. There’s something about the optic nerve that gives it away. They’ve only recently figured it out. Your contacts won’t conceal it.”

Lu’s heart stopped beating. Her blood froze to ice water inside her veins.

Her contacts were muddy brown, purchased on the black market at an insanely high price. They had no prescription, as her eyesight was beyond the human definition of perfect, but they hadn’t been bought to correct any problem with her vision. They’d been bought to conceal the electric, unnatural yellow-green of her irises. She’d worn them as long as she could remember.

Dieter knew. He knew.

Her hands began to shake so violently she dropped the empty coffee mug. It shattered at her feet with a sound like a bomb.

Dieter removed his hand from her arm and adopted one of those at ease soldier postures, legs spread shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his waist. Looking up at the sky, he inhaled deeply the warm evening air. In a more normal tone, he said, “My colonel’s old enough to remember when the sky was blue, and winter was cold. Can you believe that? Cold. Says it used to snow on Thornemas Day, flakes as big as your thumb.” He shook his head, bemused, his attitude casual as if nothing at all had just happened. As if the world itself hadn’t just ceased to turn. “Can’t say I really believe him, though.” Dieter turned his head and looked directly into her eyes. “People make up all kinds of things. Sometimes if they’re really good at it, everybody believes them. A really great liar might even convince the entire world his kuhscheibe is the truth.”

The ground had turned liquid beneath her feet. Lu was poised to run, a scream trapped in her throat. Every nerve in her body hummed with fear, and an odd, animal excitement.

Would it be a relief? To let the mask drop and finally give in to the beast she knew lurked inside her? With a tremor of sick enjoyment, she enjoyed a brief vision of Dieter in flames. Of the entire city in flames, and herself standing in the middle of it all, laughing.