Warning bark for Mordite

Peabody may not have seen the man turn into a grizzly, but he was bright enough to know that Injun Joe was getting set to adjust another relative ass-to-ears ratio. The little secretary took one look around the room, and then at my dog. The expression went out of his face.
"The end," he said, calmly and clearly, "is nigh."
And then he flung his spare pot of ink onto the floor, shattering the glass.
Mouse let out a whuffing bark of warning, and knocked Molly backward off of the bench as a dark cloud rose up away from the smashed bottle, swelling with supernatural speed, tendrils reaching out in all directions. One of them caught a Warden who had leapt forward, toward Peabody.
It encircled his chest and then closed. Everything the slender thread of mist touched turned instantly to a fine black ash, slicing through him as efficiently as an electric knife through deli meat. The two pieces of the former Warden fell to the floor with wet, heavy thumps.
I'd seen almost exactly the same thing happen once before, years ago.
"Get back!" I screamed. "It's mordite!"
Then the lights went out, and the room exploded into screams and chaos.


Turn Coat Chapter 47, Page 490-491