Decapitates tooloo

Swearing, she turned off her console and opened the safe that secured their dwindling supply of gold one-kilo bars and cash. Swiping a stack of bills, she slipped through the steel fire door.
Ghorm sighed and glanced at the open door. “For the six-hundredth time, Tooloo, shut the door. You weren’t birthed in a barn.” Returning to his screens, he muttered, “That I know of.” Tooloo didn’t reply, nor did the door close, so Ghorm spun his chair. “I know you heard me, you unfeeling knob! Get back here and—”
But he didn’t sense her. Only two asura inhabited the building: he and Mr. Saxby.
“Something’s the matter,” Ghorm whispered.
Mr. Saxby glanced from his jar of pulsating eggs, tilting his head to the side as one human ear sharpened to a dog-like point. “I hear something.”
A drip, drip, drip plinked from the shadows beyond a yawning doorframe.
“And I smell blood,” Mr. Saxby whispered. “A lot of it.”
“Impossible.” Ghorm’s eyes searched the darkness. “She’s stuck to the Bradford girl; she’s always with her!”
Something oblong rolled awkwardly from the doorway, into the light—Tooloo’s head. It emptied Ghorm of feeling, thought.


Chapter 17, Page 262-263