Days went by in a blur of odd noises, flickering lights, and that awful sense of being watched. Fatigue was heavy on Lily, and one night, sitting in the study, sleep finally overtook her. She didn't know how long she was out, but a cold, searing pain woke her up.
Disoriented, she was in the basement for the first time ever; it was a place that had scared her from trying to enter. The air was heavy and moist and the walls seemed to hum with dark, malignant force. She could barely remember how she got there but, looking down at herself, saw that her hands were covered in smudged black marks. Her head throbbed as she saw flashes of memories she could not place: images of symbols, a deep chanting voice, a dark, hulking figure looming over her.
Panic seized her. She scrambled up the stairs and locked the basement door behind her, breathing heavily as if escaping from something that was trying to hold her back. Her hands shook as she realized what had happened—she'd lost time. Hours had elapsed, during which period something had her in its grip, pushing her downstairs without her consciousness. She felt as if something was bent upon possessing her, just as the journal had told her it would.
She required rescue. She recalled Mr. Armitage's caution and, desperate, determined to find him.