Clair knocked Delaney aside and drew her bow across the violin. Slashes struck the naga's tubular body as more and more and more and more of it slithered into the room, wounds of black blood opening and pouring devious innards across the spotless carpet, the sheets and blankets, the corpse of Bloomington. From its face emanated a hypnotic kaleidoscope of gray hues. Sloan felt its gaze taking some kind of hold on her even through Delaney's bubble, so she averted her eyes before it turned her to stone or a pillar of salt or some shit.

All the while Clair nailed it with direct hit after direct hit, but nothing affected it. The room filled with blood. It rose to ankle height and slowly drained through the open door, carrying Anoka's unconscious body down the hall. Sloan floated the same direction, but the bubble was too wide to fit through the doorframe, so she churned aimlessly while the violin screeched and sang.

(Chapter 26)