Claire’s lungs burned with every panicked breath as she stumbled deeper into the garret, clinging the black paintbrush that sounded incredibly heavy in her hand. The air felt alive, moving with a slow, deliberate palpitation that pressed against her skin, strained into her bones, and filled her with a cold mindfulness that the house had come a critter in itself. The storm outside had n't lessened — it had only grown more furious.