Still don’t have one!
If Janet had been worried about whether this was a cultist — she was not — then the man’s next move would have ‘reassured’ her. The cultist reacted to his elbow getting broken with just a grunt and a lunge, his remaining hand trying to gouge at her eyes. He didn’t quite make it, but his nails raked her cheek, hard enough to draw more blood than she liked. But it left him off-balanced just enough for Janet to shove the son of a bitch into a table edge, hard enough to crack a rib. Three hard smacks to the back of the head, and suddenly the cultist was just a guy vomiting on the floor with a wrecked skull, rib, and knee.
Elizabeth had been guarding the exit with two large knives and a faint shimmer; she took a step toward Janet, but stopped when waved off. “Don’t come close!” Janet yelled. “There’s filth in the nails.”
“Poison?”
“Evil. Stay there.” Janet closed her eyes, and dug down deep, trying to feel for, well, she wasn’t sure what it was. There was something deep inside her that seemed powerful, and inclined to be helpful. And it didn’t like the stuff that was infecting her now. It really didn’t like it.
I have this itching sensation that claims .. and it often lies, I should mention that .. you have a title .. but that it’s a bit of a Shah Guido G., that it gives away a bit more than it ought, this early.
.
Of course, it could just be winter dry skin.
.
Mew
No, hate to say it, but I REALLY don’t have a title for this one. 🙂