I was hit with a cold first.

Next, dirt.

Then the world began to buzz steadily again, as if someone were piecing together reality one agonizing thread at a time.

With a gasp, I turned onto my side and began to cough. My throat stung from the taste of ash and light. The fire of the Blood Moon had faded to a pale red stain, like a wound that had finally stopped bleeding, but it was still hanging overhead.

"Michael—"

Before I could even glance, his name broke out of me.

His chest hardly ...