The man and the woman are flung forward, and land just five feet away from me.
It’s so bright. It’s so hot. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can feel is wave after wave of pain.
But then the light clears.
And I watch as Jaxon collapses to the ground.
Jaxon,I scream, only I’m too weak for the words to actually leave my mouth, so his name just resounds in my head, frantic, panicked.
I try to roll over, to claw my way to him, to save him, to protect him.
But as I roll over, I hear something splash against the sandstone beneath me.
I look down.
And see the blood pouring out of my chest.
I hear groans. I hear curses.
And as I look up, I watch as the man climbs to his feet. He looks at me with disgust. But he doesn’t come after me.
He turns, and he stalks toward Jaxon.
No,I scream, but something is wrong with my lungs. They feel like they’re full of liquid. I try to claw my way toward him, but the ground beneath me is growing warm and wet.
The woman climbs to her feet as well. She watches as the man hooks his hands under Jaxon’s armpits, and begins dragging him away.
I try to gather my shadows. I call for my darkling. I watch as the bones in my outstretched arm rearrange into an elongated limb.
But the pain washes over me in a massive wave.
Jaxon.
He is completely limp as the Kindred man drags him toward the car. Is he dead? He can’t be dead. He just exerted an enormous amount of power. He’s simply unconscious.
That’s what I tell myself.
The woman turns back to me. She reignites her hands.
“Katrina!” the man bellows. “She’s not worth it. I can hear the others. We have to go.”
Yes. Everyone else is coming.
They have to get here in time.
They can save Jaxon.
It’s too late for me. I can feel it.
I’m dying.
But they can save Jaxon.
The woman turns back to me, a look of absolute disgust and hatred in her eyes. As the man hauls Jaxon into the busted-up car, she steps toward me.
She extinguishes her light.
But she takes a step closer. And then she swings her booted foot.