Wendy and I were standing in line, trays in hand.

"You seem very fond of him." She gazed across the room. Dean already had his food and was sitting at a table by the window.

I followed her gaze. "Dean? It's complicated." I wouldn't have used the word fond. When I was around him, I felt confused and suspicious.

"I've learned that most things are. During the day, he's Dean, but at night, he's..."

She seemed to be searching for his name, so I answered, "Luke."

"And you and Luke are a couple?"

"We are."

"Have you been together long?"

"About...four months." Had it really been only four months since I first walked through the doors of the magic shop? In some ways, it felt like a lifetime ago. How could I explain to a complete stranger that I'd come to have such strong feelings for a guy I'd only known for such a short time?

Luke. I wished desperately he was with me right now. Since coming to the hospital, it felt like we hadn't had much time together.

"It must be hard," she said, as if reading my thoughts.

She can do just that, I reminded myself.

We slowly made our way in line until we stood in front of the food servers. One of the ladies scooped up runny oatmeal full of raisins and plopped it on my plate.

When the lady offered some to Wendy, she declined. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

I watched oatmeal jiggle around the plate as I moved down the line and grabbed a stale muffin.

"Some days, I swear I think they're trying to poison us with this food," I said in a voice low enough that only Wendy could hear as I reached for a carton of milk.

She didn't answer and headed across the room. I followed close behind. As we passed Dean, he looked up and gave me a smile. I focused on his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips against mine. Dean had accused me of feeling something when he'd kissed me by surprise, and for the briefest moment I had.

I turned away, trying to force the image of those blue eyes out of my mind. I only feel like this because I've been kissing that handsome shell. It's Luke I care for, Luke I love. I glanced at Wendy's back and wondered if she was picking up on my thoughts. When I came up next to her, she averted her eyes and looked uncomfortable, which made me think she probably had.

Wendy sat down and I sat next to her. I put my tray on the table and looked down at my food, but all I could think of was nothing but that kiss. It was natural I would feel something when I kissed Dean. I'd been kissing those lips for weeks. Heck, I'd been kissing Luke for weeks. But I knew deep down that when I'd kissed Dean, it'd felt different. He was different. Then why did I react? Why had I felt a rush of heat race through me when Dean's lips touched mine? Another thought slid into my mind. Maybe Luke's right—maybe we should be looking for a spell to help him take over Dean's body permanently.

I glanced at Dean. Taking over would mean that Dean's essence—his entire spirit—would be forced into that dark place.

Dean would be a prisoner in his own body.

I knew how that felt. It had only happened to me for a few minutes, but the terror I'd experienced during the possession ritual would never leave me. How could I, in good conscious, do that to another human being? How could I do that to Dean? He wasn't a bad guy. He'd been trying to help me. He'd done nothing but cooperate during this entire wild situation. How could I banish him forever?

Dean looked my way, our eyes met, and he gave me another smile. I blushed and looked away.

Wendy studied me out of the corner of her eye. She seemed to be picking up a lot about me, but I didn't know the first thing about her. "Tell me something about yourself."

If she looked uncomfortable before, now she looked ready to bolt. But she didn't. She let out a little sigh. "There's not much to tell."

Why was she being evasive? What secrets did she have? Too bad I couldn't get a glimpse into her mind. "You said you were in another hospital before this one?"

There was a long silence before she finally answered, "I was."

"Were you there long?"

"A few years. It's not something I like to talk about." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her body language made it pretty clear she wanted me to stop asking questions.

It was okay for her to ask me things, but apparently, it wasn't okay for me to pry a bit into her life? "Now that they let you out of solitary, will your family be coming to visit?"

She cleared her throat. "My mom... She can't visit. She's in an institution."

I didn't know what to say to that. When I didn't respond, she continued, "I don't really know her. They institutionalized her when I was quite young."

"And your dad?"

"He's not around much. He's a recruiter of sorts. He's always on the move, traveling around the country."

I knew what it was like to be without family. But I'd at least had mine around me for a good portion of my life. I wondered what it was like to be raised without a mother, to be raised with an absentee father.

"I had a governess who took care of me. And a tutor."

I'd never known anyone with a governess and a tutor. Wendy must come from serious money. "Sounds like a lonely way to grow up."

She shrugged. "It didn't get bad until a few years ago." She rubbed her wrist.

I forced myself to take a bite of food. After I finished breakfast, we would be heading back to my room. I had to tell her about the heart and the bloody sheets before we went in there. At the thought of the gruesome mess, I lost my appetite. I dropped my fork and turned to her. "There's something I have to warn you about. When we get back to the room..." I suddenly wasn't sure how to tell her.

I had her full attention. She looked at me with open curiosity.

The only thing to do was come out with it. "I found a—well, someone left a—"

"Hi." Out of nowhere, Andrew sat down at the table, interrupting me before I could finish. When he looked at me, he had a wide smile on his face, but the moment his gaze turned to Wendy, the smile vanished, only to be replaced with a pained expression. His hand went to the pouch around his neck.

That was weird. "Andrew, what's wrong?" I asked.

He pointed a finger at Wendy. "She's a reader." A look of fear spread across his face. "Stay out of my head."

Wendy didn't say one word. She seemed to be concentrating on the empty tabletop in front of her.

Andrew's voice rose without warning. "Stop it!" He stood and screamed at her. "Get out of my head!" Then he turned and ran.

I watched him make his way across the room and out the cafeteria doors. Focusing my attention back on Wendy, I asked, "What just happened?"

Wendy didn't bother to answer.

I looked toward the doors where Andrew had disappeared. When I glanced back at her a few moments later, I could have sworn I saw a smile slide across her face.

* * *

After we ate, Wendy wanted to go back to the room. I reluctantly agreed, and we headed down the hall. An orderly followed us out of the cafeteria. We had a shadow. What would I do if that shadow followed us into the room? I had to tell Wendy about the human heart. There was no way to hide it. She might see the bloodied bedding when she entered the bathroom.

If the orderly didn't follow us in, he would surely hear her screams when she realized what a gruesome thing she was looking at. Maybe the best thing to do was to show her and then tell her the story. At least that way she wouldn't stumble onto it. I quickened my steps, walked ahead of her into the room, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, I closed the door behind me. I turned around and looked down at the toilet.

The bedding, the heart, the blood—it was all gone.

The room was clean. Too clean. The floors sparkled, and even the toothpaste in the sink had been wiped away. Someone had replaced the broken mirror too. I left the bathroom in shock.

Fortunately, the orderly had not followed us in. We were alone in the room behind a closed door.

"What's wrong?" Wendy sat on one of the beds.

"Nothing." I pointed to the bed she was on. "That's mine." I gestured toward the other bed. "You can have that one."

She went over to the other one and sat on the edge, her legs dangling, not quite touching the floor. She watched as I started pacing back and forth across the room.

My mind raced. Who had come in and taken the heart? If the staff had found it, I had no doubt they would have come into the cafeteria and dragged me out. There would have been a big scene, a lot of shouting and blaming, and restraints and drugs would have soon followed.

If it wasn't the staff, then who? It couldn't have been Dean. He'd been in the cafeteria when we left.

"Are you okay?" Wendy asked.

I stopped pacing and looked over at her. "I'm fine."

"Clearly, you aren't."

If I didn't tell her, she would just pull it from my head eventually, especially since I couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. "Someone left a pool of blood and a human heart in my room last night."

The news didn't seem to upset her at all. She looked around curiously, and when she could find no evidence of blood or gore, she looked at me quizzically. "Where is it?"

"It was in the bathroom, but I just went in there and... It's gone."

"Someone came and got it?"

I looked at her, ready to defend myself from what would be perfectly justifiable doubt, but I saw in her eyes that she believed me. That or she'd seen the truth in my mind.

I tried to work out the puzzle out loud. "It wasn't a nurse."

"It was the janitor," Wendy said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Sometimes I know things. There's no rhyme or reason to it. I can't always turn it on or make it work." For a moment she seemed to forget I was there. "Sometimes when I need it most, it won't work at all."

The janitor, the old man who had talked to me in the common room. Why would he protect me? "It just seems odd that he would take bloody sheets away without telling anyone. I mean, I don't know him. I've only seen him a few times in the hall."

"Good thing he did. I can't imagine a human heart with bites taken out of it would go over well with the staff."

"I never said anything about the heart being bitten." For a second, I actually wondered if Wendy might have been the killer. Had she left the heart in my room? But why would she do that if she didn't know me? She hadn't been let out of solitary until that very morning.

I was seriously starting to lose it, being in here. The sooner I got out of this place, the better.

"Can you tell who left the heart?"

She shook her head.

She seemed to have an easy enough time picking up my thoughts, though.

"Because they're easier to read—your thoughts, I mean—because you broadcast them so loudly." She looked apologetic.

I understood Andrew's reaction to her earlier. All I could think at the moment was, Get out of my head. Yet Andrew wore a protection pouch, but that didn't seem to stop her. How strong was she?

"Thoughts are easier to read, especially when I'm physically close to a person."

Without realizing it, I took a few steps back.

But then she'd read the runes and foretold my future. "How can you know things before they happen?"

"I don't know. Mainly I get glimpses."

"Do they always come true?"

"Mostly."

I thought back to what she had said to me. Surrounded by flames...bound to someone...evil and death.

As if following my thoughts, she said, "Runes help focus the images. Runes, tarot, and those types of things sort of focus your abilities—heighten them or narrow them in. Like, maybe I see you and have no ideas or images of your future, but you ask me to do a rune reading. You touch the stones and then I do the layout, and I can see something in your future."

"But sometimes you're wrong?"

"Sometimes."

I couldn't accept that my fate was already written. I'd always believed you could change fate. Take a different road or open another door, and things would shift, and the path you went down would be different. As far as I was concerned, you crafted your own fate every day with each random decision you made.

I looked at the closed door. "I guess our bodyguard will be following us the rest of the day."

I worried that the orderly posted outside would stand watch over the room at night. But why would he? They locked us in. Besides, no one knew I had Mildred's keys.

I touched the thin lump in my waistband. "I usually go into the common room to play checkers with Andrew, but I guess now that you're with me, that's out. He didn't seem happy to see you."

"He seemed quite on edge."

"You seemed to push him over the edge. What did you do to him?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"Why did he scream, 'get out of my head'?"

"I have no idea."

"He was wearing a protection pouch. He said it helped keep people's thoughts from coming in."

She stared at her shoes.

"Wendy, seriously, what did you do to him?"

"I didn't actually mean to do anything. He had protection, but he broadcasts so loudly. He has no control over his abilities. It was physically painful, like someone was standing right next to me, shouting in my ear."

I could understand that. "You did something to stop the shouting?"

"I just shouted back. That's all."

"And he could hear you even with the protection pouch?" How was that possible?

"I guess so."

She might be able to read minds, but she wasn't a particularly accomplished liar.

"You must be strong." She didn't answer, so I asked, "Do they...rank your people? Measure your strength levels or something?" Eventually, she answered, "They do give us ratings. From the time we are young."

"I'm not familiar with the system. How does it work?"

"They rate it like IQ. A hundred is average. A hundred and thirty is above average." She looked off into the distance. "I would say Andrew is a hundred and thirty."

Andrew was high, which explained the hard time he had keeping the voices out. "What are you?"

"I'm...a bit higher than that."

"How much is a bit?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I'm up in the one-hundred-seventy range."

I whistled. "That seems powerful. How do people go about keeping someone of your level from reading their minds, if pouches don't work?"

She didn't answer.

I knew she didn't want to talk about it. Everything about her body language screamed that she wanted to be anywhere but here. But I wasn't going to let it go. "Has anyone been able to keep you out?"

After an awkward beat, she finally admitted, "No."

She's incredibly powerful, and no one can block her out. Great. "Aren't people uncomfortable with the fact that you randomly pick up thoughts from their heads?"

"I don't spend a lot of time with normal people. I spend time with my kind, and I've spent a lot of time with, you know." She gestured around the room.

"In hospitals." I imagined the patients didn't complain, because who would listen to them if they did? "How does your own kind keep you out?"

"We aren't like healer clans. Readers don't live together in groups. Your people get together and have gatherings. My people are individuals. Loners. My father's not a reader. My mother wasn't around."

"But the governess and the tutor? Surely, you could read their thoughts?"

She gave me a half smile. "They never seemed to mind."

I bet they didn't if Daddy was throwing money at them.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you feel uncomfortable," she said.

Her eyes met mine, and I had to force myself not to take more steps away from her. "It just so invasive. Can you do something else instead?"

"What do you mean?"

I thought back to the lake when Luke had been trying to connect with a drowning victim—Sarah. He'd told me not to concentrate on the ghost, to sing a song in my head. "Think of a song. Or go over baseball batting averages."

The last one made her smile. "Okay, I'll try not to pick your brain if I can help it."

"Great. Thanks. We can go out to the garden in a couple of hours. But until then, the common room is pretty big. If you were on the other end of it, would it be enough distance between you and Andrew so he wouldn't freak out?"

"I'm not sure."

"Let's go tell our watchdog we want to hang out in the common room." At least with a roomful of people and all their thoughts firing at her, maybe she would have less time to pick up on mine.

Another thought occurred to me. "Andrew seems to really struggle with his power. Every time I'm around him, he seems so anxious and scattered. You're stronger than he is, and yet you're very calm and collected."

She gripped her opposite forearm. The cuff of her shirt lifted, and I noticed the crosshatch of scars. There were dozens of fine white lines in only a few inches.

Wendy focused on the floor. "We all have our own way of dealing. I've been worse than him in the past, but I found ways to cope. But I'm still in here, aren't I?"

I felt a rush of guilt over asking her and a sudden rush of empathy. Would I be able to handle the influx of thoughts that must come from a building full of unstable people? I doubted it. I found myself wanting to make it up to her, and I forced some cheerfulness into my voice. "Let's go find some cards. Do you know how to play poker?"

I marched toward the door, and Wendy followed, nodding shyly.

* * *

We entered the common room with our watchdog tagging close at our heels.

Our shadow made himself comfortable at a discreet distance, far enough away that he didn't intrude but close enough to keep tabs on us.

Dean was across the room. As soon as he spotted me, he headed in my direction. I thought about avoiding him, but how realistic was it to try and avoid someone when locked in a hospital?

He gave Wendy a smile. "Hey."

She didn't bother to answer but instead stared at him again with that odd look on her face.

"Do you mind if I have a word with my friend?" Dean asked her.

Friend. It was odd to hear him use the term. I barely knew Dean, and yet when I spent time with him, he acted as though we were old acquaintances. He'd been listening in on my life all this time, but I had no clue who he really was.

"No problem," Wendy answered and moved away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean grabbed my hand. "Where have you been?"

I shook him off and stepped back. "None of your business."

He raised an eyebrow.

Ever since he kissed me, I had felt uncomfortable around him. But I wasn't about to admit that to him. "I've been busy."

He looked over at Wendy. "With your new roommate?"

"They assigned her to me. I didn't have a choice."

"What happens when we escape? Is she coming with us?"

I could tell by the look on his face that he was hoping my answer was no.

Wendy was odd, but considering the amount of time she'd spent in these types of places, who could blame her? If I had been in multiple hospitals, would I have been able to keep my sanity? "If she wants to come, she can."

His eyes narrowed. "We can't have a parade of people with us."

"Two, three, four—what difference does it make?"

"The more people who know about our plans, the more likelihood the staff will get wind of it."

I had a hard time believing Wendy would gossip to the staff. "You think Wendy would rat us out?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know her, and I don't trust her."

Dean resembled a pouty three-year-old. I couldn't help but smile. "You don't like her because she thinks you're an abomination."

"Sure, laugh it up. It's all fun and games until she decides to go all cleansing on our butts."

Cleansing. A term used by the religious cult, the Redeemers. They abhorred anyone that possessed magic talents and considered our gifts unnatural.

My amusement faded. "Why would she want to cleanse us? She has powers of her own."

"You've only spent a couple of hours with her. Dangerous people don't always show it. She's in a rehab center for mages unable to deal with their powers."

I rolled my eyes at him. "So are we."

He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward me. "Look, enough about your new roomie. I want to talk about us."

The term us made me stop and just stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Ever since I kissed you—"

I put my hand in the center of his chest and stopped him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We can't act like it didn't happen." He didn't back away. Instead, he kept the pressure of his chest firm against my hand. I could feel his heart beating through my palm.

"As far as I'm concerned, it was an accident." I wanted to stop talking about it, stop thinking about it.

That made him smile. "My lips accidentally brushed up against yours?"

The way he looked at me made me uncomfortable. His eyes were devilish, as if we shared a dirty little secret.

"We don't have to talk about it, because it's never happening again."

"It's not?" He raised a brow.

"It can't."

"Because of Luke? And what if Luke was out of the picture?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. "Are you planning to try and push him out?"

He suddenly looked sincere. "I promised you I wouldn't. I'm giving you a chance to find a solution to this. To our problem."

"Do you really think we can find a spell to help Luke hop into another body?"

"I think it's worth a shot. I think it's a better plan than his. He's still looking for a spell to force me out so he can take control."

"He won't do that."

I could tell by Dean's expression he didn't believe me.

Dean leaned in and murmured, "If he finds a spell and goes to use it, I'm supposed to believe you'll stop him?"

I turned away, feeling guilty. Just an hour ago, I'd thought about how much easier my life would be without Dean. Even if I wanted to, could I be so unfeeling to actually help Luke get rid of him? Those blue eyes stared into mine.

I won't hurt Dean if I can help it. "He won't do it. Luke's not like that."

The anger returned to his eyes. "He's not above surviving. People have done crazier things to stay alive. When it comes to survival, it's every man for himself."

I didn't answer.

His voice turned soft, and he reached for my hand then stopped himself. "I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if we're going to get out of this place. But I know I don't want you to keep avoiding me. You're all I've got in here."

For the second time in an hour, I felt guilty. Dean had been an unwilling pawn in my plans, and as much as I hadn't intended to do him harm, my actions had placed him in an impossible position. The least I could do was to be civil.

"You won't lose me."

He gave me a smile. "So...friends?"

I smiled back. "Friends." And I made an internal—if somewhat desperate— promise to myself that that's all we would be.

A cool breeze washed across my face and a voice whispered, "Help us..."

Dean blinked. "Someone's here. I can feel a spirit."

I nodded. "It said, 'help us.'"

He looked around. "But nothing else?"

"No."

"Can't you help it cross over into the light?"

I could help it cross, but I didn't want to. The spirits were the only ones with the answers to our questions. "They might be able to help us figure out what's going on."

"You think we can learn the truth from the ghosts?" He sounded skeptical.

I didn't blame him. So far, they hadn't been much help. "They're powerful enough to give Andrew visions. They've come into my dreams, and I've seen things. As long as they're around, we have a chance of finding a piece that might break this puzzle loose."

The breeze blew close by again.

Dean spun around. "And if we don't find the answer before we leave? These spirits will be tied here for eternity if someone doesn't set them free."

I would leave them be as long as there was a chance, they might give me more visions. "I agree that the right thing to do is help them cross over. But we need answers. I don't want innocent people to die any more than you do."

He seemed surprised at my answer. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I just can't risk losing... I won't let anyone I care about be put in danger again."

"So you still don't want to figure out who's killing people? It won't bother you to walk away? To leave this whole mess unfinished?" Suddenly, I felt an urge to explain myself to him. So many of the people I cared most for in the world had died. Dean didn't know what that kind of loss did to a person. How it ate at your insides. I didn't have to justify myself or my actions to him.

Yet a part of me wanted to.

Wendy joined us. "I don't mean to intrude, but I just wanted to let you know that the doctor wants to see me. So, you wouldn't worry if you couldn't find me."

I could see fear in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I shouldn't be too long. If I don't see you in the garden, I'll catch you back at the room." She turned and walked away.

Dean watched her go. "It's not one of Barton's usual days for therapy sessions."

Wendy's shoulders slumped the closer she drew to the door. And then she was through it and out of our sight.

"They just let her out this morning. Maybe they have to do some kind of follow-up," I reasoned.

"Probably have to give her more drugs."

"They do prescribe a lot of medication in this place."

Dean scanned the room. "I would hate to see some of these folks without the pills." He stopped on a man across the room who seemed to be bowling, only he didn't have a ball or pins.

"It does get surreal in here sometimes."

"Any word on Mildred?"

"Wendy said she's safe in one of the isolation rooms."

"The reader has her uses. How do we find Mildred before we leave?"

"As soon as it's dark, I can start looking for her. Once I find her, I'll come to your room."

"I won't be there."

I gave him a questioning look, and then I realized what he meant. "Oh, right. Luke will be there."

"You guys will escape, and I'll have to sit back and hope it all goes well." He curled his hands into fists.

"I'm sorry, I really am." I grabbed his hand. "The only time we can get out is at night." I felt guilt again. I had no right to treat Dean like a second-class citizen in his own body.

He shook me off. "We both know you want Luke with you when you try to get out."

"Luke and I have been through a lot. We can rely on each other, trust each other."

His expression was guarded, when he said, "You don't know about me. You aren't sure if I would be there for you in a crunch. If you could count on me."

He gazed toward the windows, obviously bothered. "Tonight, you escape and tomorrow I'll be on the outside."

Freedom. I wanted that more than anything.

I refused to considerwhat would happen if we got caught.

****