The silence upstairs was the first warning.

Lisa had been banging on the door nonstop for nearly twenty minutes-screaming, cursing, clawing at the wood like an animal. And then suddenly... nothing.

Not a sound.

Not even her breathing.

I stood at the bottom of the staircase, frozen, one hand still clutching the railing. Damon was behind me, his chest rising and falling carefully as he watched the ceiling like he expected it to crack open.

"She stopped," I whispered.

"I know," he said. ...