A starting leap in the direction of where the demon appears beside Abby is stalled to a slide, flinching backwards at the avalanche of books, the heavy tumble of the shelving. Shows teeth in a wince, and then pivots automatically for the sound of that demonic screeching—above.

(That all was horrifying. But, he is busy, and will simply have to process it in a minute or two.)

With something that is both faith that Abby will be fine and someone else will see to her (he hopes) (in his periphery, that appears to be resolving) as well as an understanding of where he, Loxley, should be in any encounter, he starts taking long strides for the staircase, letting one of his daggers drop to the floor.

The item that springs into his hand is pointed upwards as soon as he can get an angle, and gives off a sharp metallic twang. A hand crossbow, firing off an innocuous barbed bolt, aimed for where he can see distorted muscle hopefully up near the demon's throat, if not, his shoulder.

And then continuing up the stairs, bounding leaps, two or three at a time.