Lillian countered by flinging a particular spelled spice blend about her. I couldn't tell what it was supposed to do, other than make me want roast chicken for luncheon, but Lord Benderskeith fell to his knees. Lillian took advantage of his moment of weakness to reach for some of the fermented entrails. But Lord Benderskeith rallied astonishingly, summoning an ugly little imp to wreak havoc with Lillian's work.
"(an) amusing bit of mannered romantic fantasy" —Lois Tilton, Locus online
When he was done killing another glass, he dragged the demons' bodies out of the saloon into the street for the buzzards circling overhead. They’d eat anything. There were a few more people standing in the doorways of other buildings now. He couldn’t tell if they were ghosts or not. He didn’t have an eye for that sort of thing.
"A title like that had better deliver. The prose does." —Lois Tilton, Locus online