That’s when Siena rose to her feet and shouted, “Stay away from my mom!” A stiff gust of warm air rushed through the room and an invisible force passed over the chair, sweeping away the unfortunate imp, propelling it across the room and smashing it into oblivion against the wall. The ruined, smoking corpse hung there, half-embedded in the wall in the center of a perfect, four-foot circle of crumbling, indented plaster. Everyone turned and looked at Siena. She shrank back into her seat, embarrassed. “Crushing thrust,” observed Jude. “Nice.”
