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Clair Ibsen unhinged her jaw with an electronic whirr. From the void within spewed an array of dazzling crystal shards. Winnipeg threw up a hand to defend the Soul Gem strung from her neck and Sloan had a mere moment to do likewise as the shards crashed against them.

What felt like about fifty jagged knives dug into Sloan's body. She gasped the breath she had shored to prevent inhaling the archon's pollen as foreign bodies plunged deep through her skin and diced her innards to ribbons. One thick blade gored her through the cheek. She tasted iron blood on her tongue and something hard like bone knocked against her teeth until she yanked it out.

It took her only a moment to identify the spade-shaped, blood-drenched object. Seeds. The archon had implanted them with seeds.

Still sailing on Winnipeg's current as it cycled them around the perimeter of the den, Sloan tore furiously at the seeds lodged in her chest and stomach, wrenching each out with a painful groan and hurling it away. She devoted part of her mind to her gun to keep the roots at bay, but it was tough to focus as she clawed more and more frantically at the seeds lodged inside her.

"Oh dear." Delaney rode by atop a small bubble. "That looks bad."

"More incoming," said Winnipeg.

The archon/Clair Ibsen bellowed again and spat another volley. A bubble ballooned to catch the spray, the seeds sticking in the bloody membrane.

(Chapter 11)