Theo's scalp prickled-and she was no longer alone. Red mist poured around the ancient artifacts. It swirled across the floor, clinging to the concrete like dry ice. Tendrils gripped at the edges of the cases and churned against the glass, finding cracks. From the mist came the hands. Dozens of them. They lunged weakly from the oncoming tide of mist, groping blindly for the floor or the furniture. They tried and failed to hold on to the solid world around them.

A ragged sigh breathed into Theo's ear. A breath, a moan of pain. "Please don't leave us," a voice whispered.