Shouting in panic, Philip scrabbled with Ankh's arm, trying to force it away. He'd come into this with a perfectly-formulated plan: Knock Ankh out without killing him. Now, though, he couldn't think. All he knew was he was on fire and it was one of the most horrible things he'd ever experienced.

When he couldn't make Ankh let go of him, he lifted a leg and kicked at Ankh's stomach. He wasn't braced for the recoil that followed; he went flying back and skinned his elbow as he landed on the floor. He struggled out of his flaming vest and shirt, a lick of blood making its way down his arm. Without thinking, he curled his hand around it and it solidified into a whip.