The hum has a rhythm to it, a heartbeat for creatures with no hearts. They can't be here though, there's a whole bar room between the front door and the kitchen, there would have been shouting, they would have been warned.

A blue light, head-height, gleams in a dark corner of the kitchen, steady as a staring, lidless eye.

Oswin forges her rationalizations and screams before bolting for the stairs.