Flames singe my fur as I slide down the chimney. It's been such a long time since I practiced Christmas spells that I'm a little rusty at stealthy entrances. No matter. It will all come back to me once I have punished tonight's first victim. I emerge from the flames, finding myself in a chamber that takes up an entire attic. From the spellbooks strewn across the wooden floor and the empty cauldron in the corner, it looks like Natalia Jasper is a witch. Occult symbols glow crimson on the walls and ceiling: a pentagram, an inverted cross, and a six-sided star surrounded by flashing numerals.
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