‘No, it’s fine,’ Claire said. She supposed to normal people there was something spooky about the tour – after all, it was after hours, they were trudging around in the dark, and the upperclassmen leading the tour were doing their best to freak them out. But she couldn’t get nervous about it. She supposed Morganville had raised the bar way too high on that one. ‘We’re safe. They’re not going to let anything happen to us, trust me.’

‘I don’t know where we are,’ the girl whispered back anxiously. She shuffled maps, frowning; like Claire, she had a ton of materials, but unlike Claire, she hadn’t come armed with a backpack to stow them in. ‘Do you know? Because I thought we were heading for Baker House. Isn’t that right?’

‘I think so.’

‘But – we’re way off, right? Look, I think we’re not even on campus … no, wait, we are …’ The girl’s anxiety teetered on the edge of panic, and there wasn’t much Claire could do to help. She checked her phone, supposedly to look at the GPS, but quite honestly, she was checking to see if she’d gotten any messages.

She had. Voicemail from Michael. Again. She’d skipped listening to the last three because she was hoping Shane’s name would pop up … but just as she started to stow the phone away, she saw a text pop up.

It was still Michael … but it said, This is Shane hit me back.

What?

Claire lagged behind a little, texting back – risky to do on unfamiliar ground, in the dark, but this couldn’t wait. Y R U on Michael’s phone?

A few seconds, and the text came back. Broke mine sry.

It sounded like an excuse. A bad one. But accidents did happen. Was waiting, she texted back. Saw vid.

No answer for a long moment, and then he typed back, I meant it. That was all. Just that.

And she stopped walking, closed her eyes for a moment, and pulled in a deep, chilly breath. Then she texted, Miss U.

He responded, Luv U.

Her eyes stung with tears, and she hesitated for a long second before she texted back, Ttys. Talk to you soon.

‘Hey!’

Claire jerked her head up at the urgent whisper from a few feet away, instincts coming alive and screaming, but it was just the girl, the nervous one, still clutching all her brochures and maps and binders. She looked even more paranoid than before. What was her name, anyway? Started with a V. Vita? No, Viva. ‘Viva,’ she said, and the girl nodded. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re supposed to be going to Baker House,’ she said. ‘But it’s not on the map!’

‘Well, it’s supposed to be a secret tour,’ Claire said. ‘So maybe it’s called something else on the map.’