Lydia drew a protective circle around herself with salt. And within that circle, she sat in the middle of a pentagram, lighting candles on the five spiritual points with her fingertip. Settling back into meditation, she began to call on the ancient power, commanding the power of the witches to rise.  Swaying with her eyes closed, chanting spell after spell, Lydia failed to hear the scratching outside her window.<br/><br/>Her white dress dipped precariously low on her lush breasts, revealing her slender shoulders and round cleavage. She would like to be skyclad for this ritual but the basement was much too chilly for that. This sleeveless dress was pulled over her thighs as she sat in tailor’s fashion within the circle. More than flesh, she wished for blood, her virgin blood for this spell, but knew that with the advent of night that it might call the nobles to her.<br/><br/>Tossing back her head, Lydia’s black hair brushed the floor. That was when the furtive sounds reached her ears. Pulling the atheme from the sheath on her thigh, she stood slowly, trembling.<br/><br/>“Who is there?” she managed in a voice that spoke of confidence. Her little corner of the earth was protected and as far as she knew the blood that tainted the nobles could not pass through, but that didn’t mean that a human or a demon could not.<br/><br/>“Show yourself.” Lydia commanded, but not leaving the circle. She would take her chances and make a stand in the center of the room.<br/>