I snort, but before I can answer for myself, Quinn steps up. “Vampire.”
We all stare, but he doesn’t give any more information, and the pinched look on his face doesn’t invite answers. It’s a ridiculous reaction, especially since we’re all dead. I guess prejudice and the fear that comes with it don’t die easy. My skin prickles, begging me to speak up as he squirms under the group’s stares. I figure redirecting their attention is the only way to save him. Good thing I’ve got a pretty weird story.
“I’m a witch who can see the dead, but that’s about all I can remember. On top of being life-deprived as Kaz says, I’ve also got crippling amnesia.”
Yasmin presses a hand to her chest. “The horror. Were the Healers able to help at all?”
“Not really. They said it would take some time.” I stab at my mac and cheese. “Because we have so much of that.”
Haya squeezes my forearm. “The mind can be a very complicated machine. Even without the electric impulses which we left behind when we died. But maybe we can help? A round of rapid paced questions might jar something loose.”
“That’s what I said.” Rafe’s grin hits full power.
Landon snorts — his go to emotion — but then straightens a little in his chair. “That’s not actually a terrible idea.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “He approves. I’m in shock.”
“It’s a better idea than the one you had in the woods.” Landon sneers and I roll my eyes.
Rafe lifts his brows. “What happened in the woods?”
“This genius was attacked by one of the Twisted,” Landon says. “She then decided to stand and stare stupidly at it instead of running. Even reached out to it like she had an after-life death wish.”
Haya’s entire form flickers as her eyes go wide. “You were attacked?”
I flick a strand of floating hair out of my face. “Not attacked. I really don’t think it wanted to hurt me.”
Landon glares. “The Twisted don’t want anything. They can’t think. And the next time one gets anywhere close to you, grow half a brain and run.”
Arms crossed, I return his narrow-eyed expression. “Right. So, we just leave them crying out in pain like that. Sounds like an awesome plan.”
“Because you can help them?” Landon asks. Flames flicker off the tips of his fingers and red tinges his body. “I knew you were a stupid blonde, but I didn’t think you were that arrogant.”
“Dude, back off.” Rafe’s jaw is tight and his dark brows low.
With a growl, Landon pops up from his chair, hauling his tray up with him. “Whatever.” He jabs a finger at me. “But suggestions like that get people hurt. So do us all a favor and don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand.”
Chapter Eight
Since I couldn’t talk to Rafe at dinner with everybody around, plus all of the drama, I make it my goal to pull him aside some time today. It helps that because we’re both new, we have multiple classes together, including Corporeal Contact. Which I am currently running late to because I overslept. I never used to be a breakfast person — another fact that pops into my brain as I bolt downstairs — but bacon sounds extra good right now and I’m sad I’ve missed out.
I tear down the hallway toward the back of the school, diving headfirst at the door, assuming I’ll slide right through. My skull collides with solid iron. Sparks fly across my vision and I stumble backward. If this were a rom com, I’d fall into the arms of a gorgeous, moody man-hunk.
But this is the afterlife. So instead, I crash right onto my butt, feet flying over my head. At least I didn’t crash into Landon again. That would be way worse. The door I just battering-rammed my head with swings open and a massive group of ghost students stare down at me. A girl wearing an over large shirt, ripped skinny jeans, and her black curls pulled into a scrunchie smirks down at me, then schools her expression into a look of concern.
“Oh dear, are you okay?” She steps forward and extends a hand. “You have to be careful with the Corporeal Contact door. It’s lined with iron for practice.”
Based on that previous smirk, I don’t trust her, but I accept the help up anyway. Her grip is intense, strong and surprisingly callused. Not what I would have expected from someone with French tips. Or a piercing in one of her dimples. Probably a dumb assumption to make. As I brush off my butt — probably a worthless endeavor — I return her smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake and stiff as it feels.
“Got it. Don’t use my head as a battering ram when iron is involved. I now see my mistake.”
“Yes, a very painful mistake.” The girl’s voice is still nice, but with her back to the other students, she rolls her eyes. She turns around, shooing the others away from the door with a flick of her wrists. When they’ve cleared out, she waves at the dark lines in the wood. “If you see these, you know the door isn’t safe to float through.”
Without another word, she winks at me, then strolls back into the classroom. I shove my fists into the pockets of my jacket in order to avoid giving her a sarcastic salute. My spirits lift fast when I see Rafe weaving his way through the small group to meet me. That beautiful boy’s grin could turn any crap day around.
He glances at the door and winces. “That had to suck.”
I grin. “Like a vacuum cleaner. Please tell me you made the same mistake and I’m not the only one who tried to plow through this monstrosity.”
“You’re not the only one who made the mistake of trying to plow through
