Trevor locked his gaze with mine. His torment was palpable. He owned a portrait Alexander had painted of me—the only thing he could own of me. And as I stood before him, he strained with the knowledge that I was the only girl in town that he couldn’t have—and perhaps the only one he truly wanted.

“Get out of here already,” he finally acquiesced. “Run off to your little Monster Boy, freak.”

I dusted myself off and picked up my bike. I’d have felt sorry for Trevor if he didn’t bring his own torment on himself. I pushed past my nemesis and the other runners, and we both headed off in opposite directions.

I pedaled through the darkness as fast as possible. I didn’t want to miss any precious moments with

Alexander and Sebastian. I felt as if I were hauling my bike up a ski hill. Exhausted, I barely had enough strength to bang on the Mansion’s door. I was still out of breath and perhaps a little disheveled when Jameson let me in.

“Good evening, Miss Raven—are you all right?” Jameson stood crisp and creepy in his gray butler’s uniform.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve never been better.”

“Are you sure?” His voice and expression were kind and sincere.

I guess I appeared worse for the wear. Had there been mirrors in the Mansion, I might have been able check out my appearance. Out of respect for the Mansion’s inhabitants, I didn’t dare open Ruby’s compact, nestled in my purse. Instead, I just combed my hair with my fingers and tried to straighten my outfit.

“I believe they are upstairs,” Jameson directed.

I hurried up the creaking staircase. I passed Sebastian’s new accommodations and peeked in. The once-barren room was a mess—clothes, CDs, and games were strewn all over the hardwood floor. It appeared as if he’d been living there for decades. His coffin was finished, and the lid was closed and topped with junk. The sides of the coffin were adorned with stickers of global cities—Lisbon, Beijing, Rome—like a giant suitcase.