Dread crept up Sarah's spine like tiny razor sharp fingers, leaving streaks of terror leaking out of her bones. Horror oozed from her bones, thick and viscous as blood and leaving a paralyzing weakness in its aftermath. Her instinct was to draw closer to Victor as he had always protected her from dangers both real and imagined but deep in her gut, deep where the witch resided, she remembered this feeling or a twinge of this raging tsunami. The part of her brain that demanded survival was clawing for freedom to run, to hide, but the witch, the intuition, the part of her that lived in mysticism restrained her with a cold hand. Sarah took a deliberate deep breath and raised her chin.<br/><br/>The temperature in the room plunged and ice crackled on the wallpaper. Frost crusted the windows even though the sun was shining outside. Sarah's teeth chattered and goosebumps raised on her arms. Rather than fight the cold, she relaxed into it and the shivers that had been building calmed. An odor of decay infiltrated the room, cloying and thick on the back of the throat and Sarah swallowed twice, trying to rid herself the need to retch. Her eyes watered at the pungent stench but still she clung to the witch in her brain, her power, her poise.<br/><br/>Something, someone of power was here and Sarah thought she knew who it was.