TWELVE.

Picking up the paper, Allie glared at it fiercely, as if the intensity of her gaze could change its contents. But no matter how long she looked the same message glared up at her. She flipped it over and back again. Aside from those two unwanted words the page was blank.

Behind it, though, was another piece of paper a short sheet of instructions, neatly typed.

Now that your subject has been assigned, you are required to inform this person that you will be investigating them. Try and do this in an unthreatening fashion. For example, offer them tea first. Or meet them for lunch. In that relaxed environment, tell them that they have been assigned to you, and that you'd like to conduct your first interview as soon as possible.

During your meetings, take thorough notes. Along with your final research document, all of your notes must also be submitted for review. Keep no copies for yourself.

Keep this folder safe. Allow nobody to see it or its contents. Any breach of this rule could result in your disqualification from Night School or, in some cases, in your expulsion ...

A light tap at the window stopped her mid-sentence. Carter peered at her through the glass from his perch on the ledge outside.

Allie scrambled to close the file folder. For a moment she thought about telling him to go away.

Feigning illness or exhaustion. Anything.

When she didn't move, he pointed at the window latch and gave her an 'any time now' look.

Reluctantly, she climbed off the bed and pushed open the latch. The shutter-style window swung out and Carter climbed on to the desk in a rush of cool air, unfolding his long legs with difficulty. It was still raining out, and his dark hair hung lank; water dripped on to his blue jumper. The cold had made his cheeks red.

He looked amazing. But he was a bit cross.

'What took you so long? It's freezing out there.'

'Sorry,' she said, gesturing vaguely. 'I was working on a ... thing.'

Glancing at the folder on her bed, his eyes darkened. 'Yeah, I've been working on that thing myself.'

'I hate that thing,' she said. 'Do we have to do that thing?'

'Yes,' he said. 'But it doesn't have to ruin our lives. We just do the thing and then we go and do some other thing. It's just a thing.'

'You say that, but what they're asking us to do is invade each other's privacy.' Her eyes flashed. 'Tell each other all our secrets. Reveal all the embarrassing or weird or bad crap we never tell anybody. And, basically, accuse each other of being spies and liars. How do we do that and still stay ...' remembering that he didn't know yet who she'd been assigned, she finished weakly, '... friends?'

'You just do,' he said. 'Because everybody has to go through it, so we're all in the same position.' He pulled her closer. 'Don't worry, Al. It'll be fine. Who'd you get anyway?'

Instead of answering him, she stood on her toes and kissed him. Kissed him until his hands moved down to her hips and pulled her closer. Kissed him until his breath came in short gasps. His hair was wet between her fingers and his lips cold against hers but she didn't care. His warm breath filled her mouth and she was as close to him as she knew how to be.

Then without warning, he stopped and looked down at her, realisation clear in his eyes. 'Oh hell, Allie. You got me, didn't you?'

She nodded.

Carter swore under his breath. 'Those utter bastards.'

'So what you're looking for are physical signs sweating, for example,' Eloise explained.

'Gross.' Staring at her shoes, Allie slid further down in her seat. She twisted the hem of her shirt around her fingers. Then untwisted it. And twisted it again.

'Also fidgeting.' The librarian glanced at her pointedly. 'But these are very obvious indicators and, frankly, I would expect more from Carter.'

Allie bristled. 'What does that mean?'

It was late morning, and Eloise had taken her out of her maths class for her first training session on interview techniques and lie detection. This was her area of speciality and Isabelle had insisted that she spend extra time with Allie, training her.

Normally cutting maths would have filled Allie with joy, but she was still too angry about being assigned to interview Carter to find any happiness in it.

'It means,' Eloise's voice was patient, 'that he's had a lot of Night School training. So he's probably quite skilled at deception.'

Her words chilled Allie as if they'd been chipped from ice.

Carter is the least deceptive person I know. He would never ...

'Right. Let's try something different.' Leaning back against the vividly painted wall, the librarian pulled her notebook on to her lap and flipped through the pages. They were in one of the study carrels at the back of the library. All the little rooms each about the size of a small office with barely room for a desk and two chairs were completely covered in seventeenth-century murals. This was the one Allie thought of as 'Peace', as the people in it were smiling. The cherubs fluttering near the ceiling seemed adorably plump and jolly. Nobody was killing anybody else like they were in the other rooms.

'You tell me,' Eloise continued, 'what signs are you going to look out for in your next interview with Carter?'

Allie thought about Carter looking at her with those eyes, his long lashes sweeping downward when he was upset ...

'Sweating,' she sighed. 'And if he touches his ...' she waved a hand at her own face 'you know ... nose or mouth.'

'Good. And do you know why people cover their mouth when they lie?'

Allie did know but, her lips set in a tight stubborn line, she shook her head anyway.

Eloise wore a stylish pair of narrow glasses that barely covered her eyes. They sparkled in the light as she spoke. 'Some believe it's a subconscious effort to hide the lie.' She flipped a page in her notebook. 'You should also be looking out for eye movements.'

'Seriously?' Allie frowned at her. 'Like, if he looks shifty?'

'Actually, the opposite,' Eloise said. 'You're looking to see if he makes too much eye contact. When people lie they often concentrate on looking you in the eye, not realising they don't normally do that.' She pointed at Allie. 'For example, just now when I said you should watch his eye movements, before you spoke you looked up to the ceiling. Why did you do that?'

'I did?' Allie squirmed in her seat. 'I don't ... Did I really?'

Eloise nodded. 'We do that when we're thinking of an answer to a question. It's like we're trying to check our brain for the information we need.' She leaned forward. 'If Carter doesn't do that when he's thinking, he probably prepared the answer in advance.'

Sighing, Allie looked down at her hands, which were now twisted into a tight knot in her lap.

'Great,' she said, miserably.

'Here.' She handed Allie a sheet of paper with three questions written on it. 'When you interview Carter, you must work these questions in. They have to be in your final report with his answers.'

Taking it, Allie stared at the first question. 'Have you ever talked about me to Nathaniel or anyone who works for him?' Her stomach churned.

When she spoke, her voice was sharp with tension. 'Eloise, you know and I know that whoever the spy is, it's not Carter. This is a waste of time. Why can't we concentrate on finding who it really is? What if it's Zelazny or Jerry? What if it's you? Who's interviewing you?'

Her voice rang out in the quiet room, and Eloise didn't immediately respond. Instead she walked around to be closer to Allie. She took her glasses off, set them down and leaned forward. Her long dark hair was pulled back loosely. Not for the first time, Allie noticed how young she was. As she leaned forward, her face unlined, her brown eyes clear, she could have been another student.

'Look, Allie,' she said, her voice more gentle now, 'I know you're having a rough time with this. And we all knew you might. That's why we've asked you to do it.'

Resentment made Allie's heartbeat rush. 'What? You all wanted to ruin my life?'

'No,' Eloise said. 'We want you to learn how to keep yourself safe even from people who seem like your friends. Don't forget Gabe. He was your friend, too. You trusted him we all trusted him but he wasn't what he seemed. We were always going to have you interview the person closest to you.'

'But why Carter?' Allie's voice was anguished. 'He's not my friend. He's my boyfriend. That's different.'

Reaching out to untangle her tightly knit fingers, Eloise squeezed her hands. 'Because the person closest to you can do the most harm.'

That was a horrible thing to say. Furious, Allie wrenched her hands free. But when she opened her mouth to argue Eloise held up one hand to stop her.

'Look, before you say it, I know. I know Carter is a good person. We know Carter very well and it's extremely unlikely he has any secrets from us. But Carter might not always be the closest person to you. And you've got to learn how to assess the people you care about dispassionately. You've got to be able to separate what you want people to be from what they really are. Even if you love them.'

At the mention of the word 'love', Allie flinched. 'That's stupid.' She kicked a foot against the leg of her chair. 'Nobody can do that. Nobody can investigate their boyfriend and then, like ... make out with him after class. Nobody.'

'People do,' Eloise said simply. 'All the time.'

That evening after dinner, Allie sat alone in her room, pretending to read her English assignment, but as she stared at the words they seemed to float on the page in no particular order, as meaningless as a code for which she had no key. Her thoughts were elsewhere. The seeds of doubt Eloise had planted that morning were taking root and winding through her mind.

How would I feel if Carter lied to me? she wondered, flipping a page. Then, horribly: Would he do that?

Keep moving and you won't die.

Allie ran through the frozen woods repeating those words in her head over and over.

Keep moving.

Blue moonlight suffused the forest, glinting off her white pyjamas.

You won't die.

Nine hundred and seventy-one steps ... Nine hundred and seventy-two.

She was so cold she couldn't believe she was still moving. Her frozen fingers clenched into fists that pumped at her sides. She could hear nothing except her ragged breathing and the sound of her sodden slippers crunching through snow.

In the moon's day-for-night glow, she could make out pine trees and frozen ferns as she skidded along the forest path. Her breath puffed in a crystalline cloud.

She didn't know where to go. And she was so cold. A sob welled in her throat and she forced it back.

Not now.

Then a sound something moved through the frozen brush nearby. A bush shook off its mantle of snow.

She skidded to a stop, then crouched in a defensive stance.

As she held her breath and waited for attack, the undergrowth parted and a fox slunk out and stood facing her.

His lush fur was a flash of elegant carmine against the white snow.

Gazing at her with fearless, predatory eyes, he sniffed the air.

Tears sprang to Allie's eyes, and she dashed them away.

'You're so beautiful,' she whispered, reaching out a hand blue with cold to touch him.

His lips curled up to show his white teeth. Before she could withdraw her hand he crouched.

Then, with a snarl he leapt for her throat.

Her breath burning in her throat, Allie leapt out of bed. By the time she was fully awake, she stood shivering, her bare feet on the cold floor, clutching the corner of the duvet. Her eyes wild, she swatted at the desktop lamp until the light came on, then she searched the corners of the empty room.

Finally satisfied that she was alone, she closed the open window, latching it tight. When she climbed back into bed, she pulled the duvet up across her chest like a shield.

'Thank you, my subconscious,' she muttered, 'for ensuring I never sleep again.'

She stayed awake for a long time, and when she did sleep, she left the light on.

THIRTEEN.

After the nightmare, Allie slept only fitfully, and it was still dark when she woke for good. She made her way downstairs before seven and sat in the dining hall watching the kitchen staff set up the hot plates and coffee urns. She was staring into the distance when Rachel walked up a few minutes later. Allie hadn't seen much of her lately she'd been too busy with Night School.

'You look like hell,' Rachel announced, dropping her books on the table. 'Let's stuff ourselves. And you can tell me all about it.'

Now they sat in the still mostly empty dining hall with steaming cups of tea and piles of scrambled egg and toast that Allie hadn't wanted but was nonetheless devouring. Somehow, she felt better just being with Rachel. She'd missed her. There was so much she couldn't tell her things she longed to talk about. But bantering with her over breakfast felt good.

It felt like the old days.

'I'm famished,' Rachel announced. 'Dinner was too weird last night for actual consumption. They should have just, I don't know ... framed it. Called it modern art. What are you doing up so early anyway?'

'I couldn't sleep.' Allie yawned. 'I had this messed up nightmare where I was running and then a fox ate me.' She took a scalding sip of tea.

'A fox ate you?' Rachel looked impressed. 'Was it gory? Did it hurt?'

Remembering standing shivering and alone in her bedroom, Allie said, 'I woke up when it started eating my face.'

'Yum. Eating.' Rachel took a bite of eggs. When Allie didn't laugh, she tilted her head to one side. 'Foxes don't usually eat people, you know. Actually, they never eat people and I think I should be precise about that. Foxes do not eat people. Your dream self was probably just too delicious for that particular dream fox to resist. It just means he likes you.'

Even as grim as she felt, Allie had to smile. 'He? What if it was a girl fox?'