Marcia, her tiny body a limp blob lay on the cold floor, mad laughter dripping from her lips.
Shel Lur sat impassively in the high-backed bench, a wig of human hair fixed on her head, her dark eyes staring at him. Around her neck was a necklace of black triangular shaped stones that winked evilly in the sullen light of the sun.
Sean tried to comfort the sobbing, screaming Marcia, but her soft face was twisted and torn with frightful agony and her tiny red mouth still burbled raucous laughter.
Sean turned coldly to Shel Lur.
"What have you done?" he lipped, his green eyes stabbing flame.
Shel Lur stared at him impassively, her wide-lipped mouth lax.
It was then that Sean felt that latent hope for the Krak's vulnerability flare in his heart.
Shel Lur was dead.
His quick mind spun through a million queries. How had she died? Was it a Krak's ordinary death? What had happened to cast the life from her?
Sean looked down at Marcia's contorted, writhing body.