Several imps leapt onto her back and clawed at her coat. She flailed her arms at them, frying them with pulses of light from her fingertips. She staggered into the dead end, still no sign of Delaney or Winnipeg, options dwindling. The imps slowed their assault, understanding they had her cornered, none wanting to be the first forward as she faced them with her hands afire. Magical exhaustion had yet to set in, which meant she had hope. If the wraith rodentia wanted to take her, they would pay dearly in their own cooked corpses.

The front lines of the army advanced hesitantly, little feet scuffling across the tile. Many of the wraiths clucked and chuckled at her, some outright cackled. She pointed her palm at an imp and erased it with a ray of light to send a message.

(Chapter 5)