The air surrounding Mourning Manor grew heavy, saturated with a cold, metallic tang that made the hair on Gillian’s arms stand up. After the interrogation in the basement, he had emerged into the main hallway to find the temperature plummeting. He stood near the entrance, his hand still throbbing from the injury sustained when he crushed the transmitter. He looked toward the front yard, where the darkness of the woods seemed to have stretched, reaching toward the manor like grasping, elongated fingers. A familiar, dark aura began to coil around his territory, a signature he had encountered years ago in the depths of a war he thought was buried.
"They have found me," Gillian whispered, the sound barely audible over the sudden, unnatural silence of the night.
The guards stationed at the ma
