I drag in a shuddering breath. The skull in the black stone and the Spiritist at the table both swivel suddenly toward me, those empty eyes narrowing, and for a moment I’m certain that the thing inside Mr. Blanc can see me, and I jerk backward as—

CLANG!

Jacob shoves both hands into the bell at Mr. Blanc’s side.

It tips and falls, ringing through the narrow room and tearing the Spiritist from his trance. He sits, bolt upright, looking as shocked as I feel. He blinks rapidly, and clears his throat. The fog has faded. The draft is back. The black stone is empty. The presence is gone. And for a long moment, no one speaks.

And then Jenna claps her hands. “That was awesome!” she squeals.

But I can’t breathe.

The fear that was pinning me down is gone, the weight lifted, and I violently shove myself up to my feet, knocking my chair against the wall.

“Cassidy?” asks Mom, but I’m already rushing toward the velvet curtain.

I can’t get out of there fast enough.

I push aside the velvet curtain—or I try, but I pick the wrong one, and find only a wall beyond.

Panic works its way through me, and I can hear Jacob telling me to calm down, can hear Dad asking if I’m all right. But my heart is a wall of noise in my ears, and I just have to get out.

I finally find the right curtain and shove it aside, stumbling back down the hall and into the lobby.

We have seen you.

I pull the necklace from beneath my collar, gripping the mirror tight.

And we will find you.

I run across the lobby, past Adan, who’s lounging with his legs up on the equipment, and out through the doors into the night.

The air is warm, and the street is full. Not just with a crush of tourists, but with a river of strangers in brightly colored masks, a parade of people playing music and painted up like a sea of skeletons.

They’re everywhere. I can’t get away. So I race back into the hotel. My shoes squeak on the lobby’s marble floor as Mom and Dad appear, Jacob and the film crew just behind.

“Bit over the top,” Dad’s saying.

But Mom pulls me into a hug. I try to laugh it off, apologize for getting overwhelmed, as if it was just a scary séance. As if I’m just a girl afraid of ghosts.

We will find you and return you to the dark.

Lucas polishes his glasses and says, “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but the words still feel like they’re directed at me. I want to say no, say I’m fine, but my head’s too full of fear and questions. I’m relieved when Mom yawns and Dad agrees, saying tomorrow is a fresh start.

We say good night and go upstairs.

The hall to our room suddenly feels menacing, the light unsteady. The bronze hands reaching out from the walls all seem to be reaching for me.