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The mound of dirt and silt behind Omaha started to bloat. Distended clumps of soot inflated in doughy sacs. Sloan tilted her head and focused her bleary eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening anymore, unable to understand what magic this was. Unable to see anything but Erika's death...

The mound bubbled until red cracks shone through the dirt. Omaha turned and let a small gasp of surprise as the mound burst. Through the exterior papering of dirt rushed a deluge of red liquid—of blood.

Omaha went invisible immediately, but as the blood crashed into her a slight void appeared in the flow where her body obstructed it. She floundered through the downpour as the narrow room filled, her legs splashing and her invisible body dripping. Sloan hoisted her upper body on her forearms to keep her chin above the line, but the moment the tide washed over the tendons of her legs all her wounds healed and she discovered herself capable of standing again.

From the origin of the onrush rose a fay sorceress in a bloodsplattered dress with blooddrenched hair and bloodstained skin. Raising aloft a staff bedecked with an immense ruby in her one remaining arm, Delaney Pollack cackled with wild-spinning eyes as she stepped forth into the sloshing sanguine pool.

(Chapter 12)