She sobbed and curled into a ball. The dream had felt so real. Sorsha leapt off the couch, laid her ears back, and hissed as she darted from the room. The quiet thwack of the rubber flap on the cat door told her Sorsha had left the house.Isobel closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the robed woman was sitting on the floor, a vial of blood in her hands.The woman gazed back. “Sanctum inveni virum.”Startled, Isobel froze. The woman faded and disappeared.Warm drops sprinkled across Isobel’s cheek. She wiped at it, and her hand came away red. Turning, she looked up at the ceiling. Damien’s body hung impaled by arrows, his face twisted in pain as blood dripped down on her. Screaming, she threw herself off the couch and scrambled across the floor on her hands and knees.“Isobel. You are mine,” the voice whispered throughout the house. She covered her ears and huddled against the wall as the blood continued to splatter the couch. “Isobel,” it taunted.Damien disappeared, and only the dripping arrows remained.
