Shirley raised her hands. Fire leapt between her palms, pulsing brightly as it found form and became an orb that flamed as bright as the sun.
Ethan threw up a hand to protect his face from the glare, but the growing ball raced heat across his flesh. Her words hit him—the heat of the sun was one of two things that could kill a vampire, and that was what the imps were attempting to create here now.
He ducked under the table and hoped the tablecloth was thick enough to protect him. Heat burned through the air, and Walter screamed, a high-pitched sound of agony that quickly died. Flames crackled, and the smell of burning flesh rent the air.
The heat died. Ethan climbed out from under the table. Walter was little more than a patch of black soot. Even as he watched, a wind stirred his remains, spiraling them toward the roof and out of sight.
