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My gaze locks on the wave of students. Laughter lifts from one cluster, excited chatter from several others.

Multiple couples pass holding hands, and I study their entwined fingers with fascination.

Fine—with longing. It’s almost like high school again, well, what I remember before dropping out in tenth grade.

Everyone in high school thinks they’re alone.

I was one of the few who actually was. Friends don’t exactly line up when you invade their minds.

There are ghosts in there, and no one’s a good enough liar to pretend there aren’t.

Madison Academy is the place that’s supposed to accept that.

Clausen promised my nineteen years of isolation would end the day I got sucked into this hallway.

He promised there’d be others like me. Freaks and outcasts and monsters who also know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself.

He promised this was the place I’d learn to laugh.

I stare down at my fingers, imagining them wrapped around someone else’s.

“The Birchwood Suite is somewhat isolated from the other dorms, but two of its residents are highly respected students at this school.”

I blink and force my attention back to the impatient guide. “Why were you surprised when Director Clausen said I’d be staying in the Birchwood Suite?”

She fails at another tight smile. “No reason. I thought it was full, that’s all.”

I don’t believe her, but there’s no point in asking for more lies. I steel myself for whatever surprise waits in the mysterious Birchwood Suite. Spirits, demons? Maybe vampires. I can think of worse things. Prom committee.

Then again, who needs monsters when there are so many living faces to explore?

I want to memorize each one, but Maria doesn’t stop for introductions.

We’re on a mission, and I try to stem my irritation as she careens us from one hallway to the next.

She’s just doing her job, but she also has no idea what it’s like to duck around potential friends I’ve waited nineteen years to meet.

She probably has a boyfriend and weekly card nights with the girls.

Best friends, dinner parties, night clubs.

Okay, maybe not, but she’s got her closet organizing club.

I’d give anything to organize closets with real friends.

I’m out of breath from our sprint through the maze of corridors and staircases by the time we climb another labeled: North Wing.

The castle-mansion seems a hundred times bigger from the inside, and I’m pretty sure we passed the same room twice.

Why couldn’t they build a new facility with actual dorms?

Converting old, creepy mansions is one of those things eccentric rich people do, not prestigious Ivy League universities with mountains of grant money for pet projects like Madison Academy.

I consider asking for a map when we finally stop before an ornate door straight out of any girl’s princess fantasy.

I stare at the brass nameplate with Birchwood etched in severe script and fight the urge to duck behind the carved oak doorjamb. If there are demons on the other side, I don’t want them to sense my fear. Kind of funny, considering my own monster complex is reason number two that I’m here.

Maria knocks, and I brace myself for the fires of Hell. Maybe I even squint against imaginary flames as she opens the door to reveal a very normal, handsomely adorned sitting area. It even has two well-dressed angels reclined in the leather chairs. Huh. I hadn’t considered angels.

One of them rises, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen his bust on several pianos and mantels throughout my life.

“You must be Rebecca,” he says with a breathtaking smile. His voice breezes through me like a sexy sonata. “We heard about your arrival. I’m Ben.”

My pulse pounds in an alarming pang of attraction.

My gaze fixates on him in awe and concern.

He’s beautiful, sure, but I’m not the type to fall into easy crushes.

I’m confused, not smitten, when I take the hand he offers, and quickly pull back after a brief shake.

Skin-to-skin contact again? I don’t like how this place has made me abandon nineteen years of carefully crafted rules so quickly.

I turn to the other woman who seems less eager to connect with me.

At least it should be easy to stay on guard around this one.

“Hi. I’m Laura.” Her facial muscles barely move with her greeting.

I lift a hand anyway in an awkward wave. “I’m Rebecca. I mean… sorry. You know that.”

Ben chuckles, but Laura doesn’t even pretend I’m welcome.

She clearly doesn’t like me, but why? It makes no sense for her to be jealous.

I can’t possibly be competition for a goddess supermodel angel who makes those jeans look like runway material.

I squirm beneath their divergent appraisals and decide Maria probably wasn’t worried about Birchwood monsters at all.

Like I said, there are worse things. Things like my new role as fifth wheel to the campus golden couple.

Vampires are starting to look really good.

“Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Your things should have been sent up, but let me know if you’re missing anything.”

“We’ll take good care of her, Maria,” Ben says, and I don’t miss her stiff nod during her retreat. He closes the door with a smirk.

“She hates us,” Laura mutters, and Ben shoots her a look. “What? She does.”

“She’s just doing her job. So, Rebecca, welcome to the circus.

What’s first? You want a tour?” He settles a penetrating stare on me.

Very penetrating. So fully and completely penetrating, I start to feel it in other places.

Stop it, Rebecca! What the hell is wrong with you? I shudder from my own thoughts.

“She probably just had a tour,” Laura quips.

Ben narrows his eyes at her, and they exchange a look I wish I hadn’t seen. My skin burns beneath my shirt when he takes my arm. Burns. But with a heat that feels dangerous. Distracting and warm. At least I don’t get a vision this time because of the fabric separating us.

“Sorry about her. She’s in a mood today. Something about a hairdryer malfunction.”

“You’re such a dick!” she snaps back, and stalks off to her room.

Wow. Laura is in massive need of a hug. Maybe her pants are too tight. They’d make anyone cranky.

Ben offers a sheepish grin which helps a little. “It’s not you, trust me. Okay, so you’re over here.”

He leads me to one of the four doors opening to the common area, and I hesitate once more like the first-time Disney princess I’ve become.

Even the door is nicer than anything in my hometown.

I grip the antique pewter handle with one hand and press my other palm against the smooth wood.

Does Ben think I’m insane? Probably. He knows it when I push the door open and my eyes widen in shock.

I’m sure I look like a two-year-old who just discovered bubbles, but the bed is big enough for three and I have no idea why I’d need so many pillows.

A delicately carved desk fills an alcove beneath a stained glass window that almost makes me want to do schoolwork again. Almost.

Then my gaze settles on a breathtaking stone mantel surrounding a giant, honest-to-goodness fireplace. Damn, this place begs to be haunted.

“I’m guessing this is nicer than what you’re used to,” Ben says with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

I nod in wonder as I continue to study the oversized room and adjoining bathroom. “We saw a sample on our first visit, but it certainly wasn’t this one.”

“They wouldn’t have gone near Birchwood, trust me.”

I sober a bit at his words. There it is again. Birchwood. Said with an air of eerie mystique. “Why not? Wouldn’t they want to put their best rooms on display?”

Ben’s lip curls as he points toward the bedroom door near mine. “Even a canopy bed wouldn’t win recruits if Daniel was on the tour. They wouldn’t take the risk.” A sudden darkness settles over his features.

“Daniel? He’s our other suitemate?”

There’s that look again. The same reservation Maria covered up in Clausen’s office. Ben seems to do the same when he dismisses his previous gloom with a wave. “Anyway, he’s too busy getting wrecked and picking fights to show his face much. Don’t worry about him.”

I cringe and study the depressing door for another moment before focusing back on my own palace suite.

Maybe the curse Maria feared wasn’t campus royalty clique drama after all.

I force away the dark thoughts. Who has time for phantom outcasts when you have an eight-foot bookcase for the two books I brought?

“What about my room? Who had it before me?”

If the question bothers Ben, he disguises it well with another smile.

I suspect he accomplishes a lot with those full lips and perfect, white teeth.

Those eyes. That hair. Damn, everything about him seems geared to turn girls like me into mush.

And I am not the mushy type. “Oh, well, she moved on. Madison isn’t for everyone. ”

I nod through his unsatisfying explanation—the way his gaze darted away when he gave it told me more. But I do things like that. Ask questions I shouldn’t and ignore the ones I should. Another symptom of knowing things I shouldn’t.

“So is it too early to talk about your gift?” Ben asks, rescuing me from my dangerous thoughts. Imagination and ironing: vices of my destruction.

It appears my belongings had been delivered as promised, and I hoist a suitcase on the bed. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“True. Mine is a bit of a headache if you haven’t noticed.”

“Let me guess, you’re cursed with being ridiculously good-looking?”

He laughs. “Something like that. What about you?”

I tug at the broken zipper on my bag, still not sure about any of this. About him. “I get flashes when I touch people. Past and future.”

“Really? Wow. You must have some great conversations.”