Then there is nothing.
Blood drips onto my face, warms my body. It is my friend’s.
I try to move Pax. I manage to squeeze out from under him. The Jackal has fled and Pax is bleeding to death. A banshee wails in my ears. The Proctors are gone as well. The Howlers stumble to their feet. When I look back to Pax, he is dead, his mouth pulled into a quiet smile. Blood slithers along the stone. My own chest tightens and I fall to a knee sobbing.
He had no last words. He had no goodbye.
He threw himself upon me. And was savaged.
Dead.
I want to cry so bad. Jackal needs to die a painful death