The scream took Solomon by surprise; he flinched, stumbled, suddenly unsure of what was ahead of him. The pause wasn't long enough. Not with the sudden slurp of the floor receiving Sanguine, the way his bolt dissipated now its target had vanished from the immediate vicinity.

Sanguine's soul burst from the floor like an exploding boil, and with a curse Solomon threw himself to the side, knowing that the glint of a raw, open wound, unlike the congealing victims, was the weapon with which Sanguine bathed himself. He couldn't see the Texan's arm but he still lifted one of his own to deflect the blade on his Bespoke-tailored sleeve. It hit hard enough to jar his bone, scraping past his side.

It should have been easy to break away, once upon a time. Not now. Engulfed in the nearness of Sanguine's soul and sheer murderous intent directed all at him, Solomon flinched hard, staggering as if struck in the face. One hand groped for purchase in the lifestream; this time he had no chance to let it build. He just gripped another handful of his own soul's light and threw it at the Texan, just wanting some distance and still trying to orient himself toward the door.