but the scent of kerosene, tar, and burnt flesh clung to the air.

The memory of ignition lingered after the brilliant light no longer burned and Durabas’s screams fell silent.

When Sigmund peeled his body from mine I expected to see a pile of burnt bones, or the demon’s body reduced to ashes. I saw neither. 

Nothing remained in the area under Lachlan. No charred remains. No ash pile. Just a partial outline of the burned ground underfoot.  

My body sagged as the others poured into the room. I heard Emily say you’re bleeding, but her voice was too far away for her to be speaking to me. Was Lachlan bleeding?  He had to be. The memory of Durabas hanging on the back of him like a demonic leech pulsed into my mind’s eyes.  

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