She drove through the night, a grim expression on Shutting off the car engine, she left the vehicle and scaled the wall, listening out for dogs. Hearing no sound except the beating of her own heart, Jill pressed on through the estate. The rain soaked her to the skin, but she ignored it, thinking only of the dilapidated old manor house she would lose of this failed. Prison or some poky flat, each would be worse than death to her. Reaching the house, she saw a light on, and moved forward cautiously, sizing up the place.
Pausing in a flower-bed, and thus showing that she was no sort of thief, Jill sneaked a look into the house.
What she saw appalled her. A young woman was strapped to an altar, while oddly-robed figures chanted. A knife was lifted, and Jill tried to scream, only to find that power had deserted her. She could only watch helplessly, as the knife buried itself in the victim's chest. Only then did the power of action return to her.
And Jill knew exactly what to do with it, taking to her heels. As the sprinted through the woods, she heard an explosion behind her. Running as though all the fiends of hell were after her, Jill scrambled back over the wall, leaving a trainer behind her, before driving back to the house. She had one thing on her mind. She had to speak to her friend, the friend who had taught her so much - Sylvia Vaughan.