If she hears him, she ignores him - too busy ducking and dodging in an attempt to avoid the thrashing of the creature as it twists after her. The horrible nearness of it looms large. She leaps in tandem with one of its blinded swings, and just misses the wretched curled talons gutting her lengthwise. But the swing of the swipe catches her, something heavy and feathered clipping hard enough to dash her to the loamy earth with a blunt cry.

The summoned horror blunders after the sound. Blood or tar or something too terrible to put a name to pours of of its great black shape as it pounces.

Snap! goes the spring in the wire spool under the wrench of her hand. The tethered bolt rips free of the monster's ruined face and flies as if enchanted back to Fitcher's waiting hand. She stabs up at it from where she's fallen prone, driving the blessed iron into whatever sloughing portion of the half formed creature she can reach.

"Dismiss it, Mr Ginsberg!"