And here is the promised daily writing sample (remember, this is not polished stuff):
There was a pile of heads. Some were still blinking. One of them was wearing my face.
“Right then,” I said. “Let’s go back out and try to enter the Elamner’s room through the window. Dealing with Bosch can wait.”
More strenuous agreement from behind me. I was becoming popular with the mercenaries.
Holgren smiled, which, considering what we were surrounded with, made me like him more, oddly. “We can try,” he said. “Lord Osskil?”
Osskil was staring at a rotting arm that dragged itself toward his boot, a look of sick fascination on his heavy face. Very deliberately he raised his foot and stomped down on the black, split-nailed fingers that inched it forward. He kept stomping until the bones were shattered and the thing just lay there, quivering.
“Yes,” he finally said. “Let’s.”