There was the definitive sound of a lock clicking into place. A low-level hum signaled that some type of electrical current also served to keep the unwanted out.

Slowly the crowd dispersed. Elegantly dressed patrons re-formed into smaller groups. Some wandered up a beautiful wooden staircase. Others slipped into open rooms.

Aisling noticed that none of the interior rooms had doors, and understood the significance of Elena’s comment. Why privacy was hard to find.

The man and woman in red lingered nearby. The Ghost dealer went through a doorway with a small flock of people behind him. Aisling forced herself to leave the comfort of Zurael’s arms and walk across the room.

The dealer stood in an old-fashioned parlor. Furniture from the era, or copies of it, graced the room. There was a fireplace. The blackened and ash-coated tool set on the hearth indicated it wasn’t just for show.

There was no attempt at concealment. Like disciples to a messiah, men and women gathered around the Ghost dealer. They offered silver, gold, jewelry. They received small metal boxes in return.

Aisling shivered at the sight of the containers. The one in Elena’s possession had made her think of an antique pill- or snuffbox. Now she saw small metal coffins.

Three of the buyers hurried from the room. The remaining five settled on the chairs and couches. Aisling braced herself when their fingers reverently stroked the lids of the tiny boxes.

Zurael’s heat warmed her back. She longed for the comfort and security his touch had come to represent, but she didn’t blame him for standing apart until he knew she wouldn’t be dragged into the ghostlands.

Aisling felt the spirit winds as soon as the first lid was opened. Her hand went to the hidden fetish pouch containing the pentacle.

The winds recognized her. They swirled around her but didn’t pull at her spirit.

The Ghost users dug their fingers into the tainted substance. Some of them rubbed it on their bodies, while others licked and sucked it off their skin.

One by one they were taken.

Club patrons drifted into the room like theatergoers waiting for the show to begin. A few checked their watches. The Ghost seller moved to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel.

He surveyed the room, perhaps looking for other customers. Aisling tensed when his gaze settled on her. It was there for only an instant, then gone.

She’d expected to feel a jolt of recognition, to feel something of the ghostlands in him. Instead she felt nothing, as if he were only human, a man with no connection to the spirit world.

Aisling turned to look at Zurael. “I’m going over to him.”

Zurael’s eyes burned with an intensity that sent wild heat coursing through her. His hand curled around her forearm, possessive and protective, allowing for no argument. “I’ll go with you.”

She acquiesced. Until dawn arrived, they were all trapped in the house. There was little point in pretending she and Zurael weren’t together.

The five men who were Ghosting started to moan. Like Elena they must have been seeking pleasure in the spiritlands. Zippers gave way. Hardened cocks emerged to be taken in hand. Hips rose as backs arched.

Aisling couldn’t stop the blush from coloring her cheeks. She’d grown up on a farm and witnessed animals mating. She felt no shame in sexual desire or attending to those needs but she’d never imagined men and women, strangers, entertaining themselves like this.

She couldn’t tell whether the Ghost dealer was monitoring those he’d sold to or whether he was merely watching them. His attention shifted to her as she drew near. “Last one,” he said, pulling a container from his pocket.

Even as he said it, the spirit winds shifted and the rhythmic grunting of the men who were Ghosting was silenced. A coldness swept into the room along with a malevolent presence.

Aisling turned away from the dealer to look at the Ghosters. Their fingers were locked around their swollen organs, forgotten. They were all sitting, focused on her though they had the dead, empty eyes of zombies.

She heard a faint whispering, a command spoken on the spirit winds. Dull nothingness gave way to gleeful hatred in the men’s expressions, and the Ghost dealer quickly left the hearth.

Instinctively Aisling grabbed the poker from the fireplace tool set. It wasn’t as good as a hoe or pitchfork, but it would serve as a weapon.

“They mean to attack,” she said.

Zurael was already positioning himself in front of her. The men didn’t bother with their trousers before closing in.

Aisling stepped to the side even as the first one launched himself toward where she’d been. A second man attacked as Zurael tossed the first one across the room. The third and fourth were right behind him, and while Zurael dealt with them, the fifth leapt at Aisling.

She swung the poker and hit his arm, but he kept coming, slamming her against the wall. His fingers locked around her neck.

The thrust of the steel in her hand and her raised knee broke his hold. But her freedom lasted for only a second before he was on her again, his fingers a vise depriving her of air.

Aisling was vaguely aware of the room filling with shouts as the bouncers rushed in. Zurael’s arm went around her assailant’s neck. His hand grabbed her assailant’s chin, and with a sickening crack he snapped the man’s neck before tossing him to the side.

For an instant Aisling flashed back to the black mass and the bodies he’d casually discarded. Her gaze met his, but unlike that night, tonight Zurael’s eyes promised protection instead of retribution.

“Put the poker down,” a bouncer said. He was one of three closing in on them, leading with batons Aisling knew were capable of delivering a shock large enough to render someone unconscious.

She dropped the fireplace tool at her feet. “We were only defending ourselves.”

The bouncer shrugged but didn’t turn away. He and his companions stopped several feet back. They lowered their weapons to their waists. Their bulk continued to trap Zurael and Aisling near the fireplace.

Across the room additional bouncers hovered around the four remaining attackers. Two of the Ghosters were once again lost in pleasure. The other two were on their feet, dead-eyed, though Aisling sensed a different spirit presence hidden in them, beings who’d found a host and planned to remain in possession.

Slowly the room filled with the powerful and privileged. The air grew heavy with anticipatory excitement just as it had right before the club locked its doors. Conversation faded to hushed expectancy, only to give way to a chant. “Vote! Vote! Vote!”

The word traveled through the club with pulsing intensity. It brought more elegantly dressed men and women crowding in.

When it reached a crescendo, the bouncer who’d pronounced Aisling gifted raised his baton. Silence descended.

The bouncer pointed toward one of the men who was Ghosting, his hips jerking as his hand worked his penis. “In or out?”

A feminine laugh answered. The woman dressed in red waved a hand and said, “His act has gotten old and boring. Out!”

Those around her took up the chant. They were only silenced when the bouncer lifted his baton.

The same routine followed for the second Ghosting man, and then for the two who stood like zombies. They were all voted out.

When the bouncer pointed his baton at Zurael, the woman in red licked her lips and undressed him with her eyes. “What do you say? Will you play nice if we vote you in?”

Aisling glanced up and shivered at the sight of Zurael’s liquid gold eyes. They burned with a hatred so deep it was impossible to miss his intent to kill anyone who tried to force his or her will on him.

“I think not,” the man in red said. “Out!”

The chant was taken up immediately. It rolled through the house and filled the air until it was silenced.