The fallen angel had taken her death, but that was all he could do for her. She'd owe him a favour. She'd owe him for the souls.
If she didn't pay him back, he could take hers.
She had to make it the rest of the way. They didn't have many living anchors left, she could be useful, even if Dirge had to carry her everywhere.
Then she heard the cry of the acid spitter, wheeling overhead.
No. She wouldn't let it end like this. She had to seek cover. With the last of her strength, she pushed herself up and loped for the nearest abandoned building, shattered by the side of the road but the ground floor ceiling might be intact in places.
The door was oddly unharmed; she lost a few vital seconds pushing it open, the jaculi lined up, and let loose a gout of acid as she finally worked the catch open and practically fell through...
It seared through her gold-trimmed leather armour, through her tawny leopard spotted fur, and she screamed.
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