Almost.

She dove with a ferocious hiss at the coin-wielding man, using the coiled muscles within her lower body to propel herself forward with terrifying speed. She dodged beneath another attempt to burn her with the sacred coin and buried her fangs deep in his throat. His blood tasted of foreign spices and she drank deeply.

A new strength surged through her serpentine form. She tossed the empty corpse aside, reared back and snarled at the others.

"Come, then," she hissed, licking the blood of their brethren from her lips with a red forked tongue. "If you want me, come and take me."

They hesitated briefly and then rushed at her. There were more than she had realized and they swarmed upon her, each using a blessed talisman that burned, shocked, froze or nauseated with every touch.

Her claws became slick with the blood of the enemy but still they came. She was growing tired, distracted. Too late, she sensed behind her the approach of the four men with the Net of Nimrod.

Scylla spun around to face them but the net engulfed her. The colours of the confining weave danced before her eyes and she felt the strength drain out of her. She slumped to the ground.

"A most excellent acquisition," she heard the leader gloat as he gently kicked her shoulder with his foot. "Those who gave their lives in obtaining this prize will be remembered as heroes."