The ballroom doors rattled.

  Frost crept across the gilded handles, spreading in icy webs. Frankie’s breath turned white mid-exhale.

  “Uh, dudes?” Ted’s voice cracked.

  The walls shimmered.

  White figures stepped through the paneling. A woman in a 1940s cocktail dress, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. A sailor with half his face missing. A child clutching a teddy bear, her eyes empty sockets.

  Dee Dee scrambled backward, shoes slipping on the floor. “Oh shit. Oh shit.”

  More came.

  From the corridor. The ceiling. The floor itself. Dozens of them, their forms flickering like damaged film. The cold was an active presence, a void of warmth that pressed against Frankie’s skin. Her vampire senses screamed.

  They formed a circle. Silent. Watching.

  “Iron,” Frankie hissed. “Get the iron.”

  Ted was already moving, wrenching a section of decorative railing from the wall. The metal groaned. He passed pieces to Dee Dee and Frankie, keeping a twisted length for himself. Damon grabbed a broken chandelier arm.

  The spirits closed in.

  Frankie swung. The iron bar passed through a steward. The shriek had no sound. It was a pressure inside her skull, a spike of pure agony that bypassed her ears entirely.

  The spirit dissolved. Reformed three feet away.

  Ted grunted, swinging a twisted piece of railing. A ghost lunged. He batted it away like smoke.

  Dee Dee was back-to-back with Frankie, her swings methodical. A spirit’s touch left a frost-burn on Frankie’s arm. The cold was a physical weapon.

  Then, a sound cut through the mayhem.

  Footsteps.

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  Slow.

  The spirits cleared a path to the main stairs. Something descended.

  Frankie’s stomach dropped. No skin. The words from the diary slammed into her mind. Wrapped in flames.

  Raw red muscle, exposed and wet. A dress of pure, pulsing fire wrapped around its form but didn’t burn it. Its eyes, like burning coals, locked onto Damon.

  Ancient. Starving.

  One moment it was on the stairs, the next it was on him.

  It grabbed his arms, fingers sinking into his skin. Damon screamed, a raw, ragged sound of agony.

  A red mist streamed from his body. Not blood. Energy. Life force.

  The thing’s fiery form grew brighter, more defined. Damon’s body went slack, his skin turning a waxy, bloodless gray. His eyes rolled back.

  “NO!” Frankie lunged.

  She swung the iron bar, smacking the creature’s shoulder. It screamed, a high-pitched hiss of static.

  Ted came from the other side, driving a jagged railing piece into its back.

  The creature released Damon’s limp body.

  Ted caught his right arm. Frankie grabbed the other. They dragged him backward.

  The creature rose, its burning eyes fixed on them. Behind it, the spirits swarmed, blocking the doors.

  “There!” Dee Dee pointed. A side door behind a curtain. “The lounge!”

  They ran. Damon was dead weight. Frankie’s shoulders screamed. Ted’s feet slipped on the floor.

  Behind them, a shriek that felt like needles in her brain. The cold intensified.

  Dee Dee hit the door with her shoulder. It groaned. She hit it again. It flew open.

  Ted dragged Damon inside. Frankie spun, grabbing the heavy door. Dee Dee was already there, adding her weight. The spirits swarmed the doorway.

  Frankie threw the bolt as the door slammed shut. Dee Dee piled a table and chairs against it. Outside, a howl of pure, wordless rage echoed.

  The door shuddered in its frame.

  Frankie pressed her back against it, breathing hard. Her hands shook. The iron bar clattered to the floor.

  “Is he—?” She couldn’t finish.

  Ted knelt beside Damon, fingers pressed to his neck. “Pulse is weak. But he’s hanging.”

  Frankie crossed to them on unsteady legs. They laid Damon on the floor. His chest barely moved. His face was a slack, gray mask.

  “Damon?” She touched his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

  Nothing. His eyes were open but vacant, staring at the ceiling.

  “What did it do to him?” Dee Dee’s voice trembled.

  Frankie sank down beside him, her hand finding his. Cold. So cold. She squeezed, but his fingers were limp.

  The confident light that was always in his eyes was gone. Replaced by a strange, chilling emptiness. He was alive.

  But a vital part of him was missing.