Cold.
Not the nice "ooh, let me snuggle under blankets" kind of cold, but the slimy, gross "something is very wrong" kind that slithered right into Grace's bones.
She blinked awake and immediately noticed two things: Petriel was gone, and water was seeping under their door.
[Well, that's not good.]
Grace tumbled out of bed, almost face-planting when her feet hit the wet floor. The water was only an inch deep, but it was spreading fast, dark and oily-looking.
"Petriel?" she called, her voice bouncing off the empty walls.
No answer.
Grace yanked on her clothes, not bothering with all the complicated angel robes—just the basics. As she reached for the door handle, her medallion went from ice-cube cold to fireball hot against her skin.
[Is that a warning or are you cheering me on? Make up your mind!]
No time to figure it out. Grace threw the door open, half-expecting a wall of water to knock her on her butt.
Instead, she found total chaos.
