Once Severo and the others were on the move, no doubt on their way towards her, Maria knew she couldn't afford to linger. She might be willing to flaunt her presence rather brazenly, but she wasn't completely foolish. She didn't have a death wish. Ever since her escape, she knew Severo took it as a personal offense that she was still roaming about freely. He must regret now that he showed her even a moment of sympathy. Even if the regret wasn't inborn, she was sure his mother Araya didn't let him forget the error.
Slipping down from the dais as quickly yet covertly as she could manage, she didn't pay the bleeding young man any heed, intent on moving with self-preservation. He wasn't her problem. If he split his head open partying in the Calaveras' nightclub, that was their mess to clean up, physically as well as legally. All the better for her, really. The important thing now was to put as many writhing, difficult to get pass bodies between herself and the approaching hunters.
She was halfway to one of the side exits that she knew led into a back corridor when it happened. The club lights dimmed as the multicolored strobe lights switched on. Maria's head turned, perking up like a hound that caught a scent. And she had. Turning to look back towards the booth in time to Severo whispering to the backup DJ, whose fingers flitted over some dials and buttons in front of him. The lights were an obnoxious distraction, but the smole machine being turned on was the real problem at hand. The human partygoers all around her whooped in delight as the thick fog began to creep across the dance floor.
That scent... It was unmistakable. Instead of the usual glycol based fluid, this fog was laced with the distinct scent of wolfsbane. Almost immediately, Maria began to sputter, coughing into her shoulder in an effort to cover her nose and mouth. The Calaveras were pumping wolfsbane fog into the club. It was getting difficult to breathe.