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Jasper’s phone buzzes, and he pulls it out, reads the message, and looks around until he finds Leo staring at his phone too.

“Security sweep,” Jasper says, standing up. “Final night protocol. They want us to scan the area for anything suspicious.”

Leo walks over with Emmie. “Same message. We should go.”

Jasper turns to me and pulls me close, kissing me in a way that suggests he doesn’t love leaving me here.

“Stay with friends,” he says.

“I will.”

“Stay away from suspects.”

“I’ll try.”

“Bizzy.” He frowns at me and looks vexingly hot while doing so.

“You should don the cape more often,” I tease, but he’s not amused. “Okay, fine. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He kisses me again, and then he and Leo head off toward the security station, leaving Emmie and me standing in the middle of the festival.

“Want to hit the Beyond the Grave Rave?” Emmie asks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Mom and Georgie materialize beside us like they’ve been summoned.

“Not without us, toots,” Georgie announces. “I didn’t get dressed like this to miss the final event.”

The four of us make our way toward the back lawn, where the Scream Queens Showcase has given itself a Halloween-night makeover. The grass that hosted opening night is now home to the Beyond the Grave Rave, complete with a temporary dance floor, a DJ, and enough strobe lights to make the dead reconsider staying put.

Clawdia died maybe fifty feet from here.

Judging by the crowd on the dance floor, everyone has decided murder is no reason to waste a perfectly good beat.

Vampyra is holding court near the DJ booth in enough purple and black to qualify as Halloween royalty. The costume is all velvet, feathers, glittering stones, and dramatic sleeves, and I’m willing to bet somebody in Paris lost sleep over it.

Miss Kitty flits through the crowd in her pink witch getup, leaving a trail of sparkles and enthusiasm in her wake.

Ghoulia has stationed herself near the back in full Victorian mourning attire, pale eyes sweeping the party as if she’s waiting to see who needs burying next.

And Morticia is bouncing between the event staff with a clipboard and the strained expression of a woman who has personally discovered the thirteenth circle of Halloween hell.

Every single Scream Queen is here. The crowd is in full costume, dancing or drinking or laughing, and the energy is chaotic in the best way.

I scan the room and spot Vampyra standing off to the side by herself, not socializing, looking disconnected despite her elaborate costume.

All I need is one last chat. One last chance to confirm she’s not the killer and rule her out completely. Or, as cruel as it sounds, send her off in handcuffs.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell the group.

“Where are you going?” Georgie asks.

“I’ve got a few more questions to ask.”

Mom gives me a look that says whatever I’m about to do, she’d prefer I didn’t. Emmie’s says the exact opposite. She knows me too well.

I start weaving through the crowd as I make my way to Vampyra.