Abigail was internally playing ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ as she tried, in vain, to figure out whether or not it was worth squatting in a mouldering old mansion for the best part of her evening watching kids get scared by slightly older kids.  Her legs hurt. Her elbows itched. It was starting to cool off in the dark so her skin felt clammy with sweat. She was half-wondering where Lilith had wandered off to; she was a solitary type, but could hold a silent conversation for hours on end...a skill that Abigail unfortunately lacked, but would have been very useful to practice up here. She had to crane her neck a little to watch the two boys shuffle awkwardly down the hall and huffed a dull sigh at the sight of it.

Then there was a tightening in her abdomen and a very unpleasant feeling rose up from her chest, one that really did make the hairs on the back of Abi’s neck stand on end. When you grow up in the conditions that she did, you harboured a sort of...unshakable instinct. It was like riding a bike; difficult to forget, impossible to explain. The scary part was that these thoughts didn’t tend to show up in Brimstone. They belonged to a previous chapter in her life and she was not okay with feeling the way she did in a place that she knew was incapable of matching up to her childhood.

It told her something was watching her. Abigail glanced over her shoulder briefly and saw nothing. She looked down the corridor and found nothing else of interest, save for a few spotty teens in last year’s Halloween costumes. There was no reason to feel so tense, but her gut never lied. Deciding that she had quite enough cheap thrills and barely containing the urge to get the hell out, she padded down the corridor and skirted the stairs towards the front door-...only to freeze in place, staring at the backs of James and Max incredulously. They were right in front of the pantry door...