The rest of the week went...normally? Or as normal as life could get for me. I patrolled with no more interference from Paul, the mausoleum seemed to crouch in on itself as if it were sucking itself into a black hole, I was no closer to figuring out who the other Necron Brotherhood member was, and I hissed "don't touch" if anyone got close enough to pluck stray hairs off my clothes for another make-the-slayer-useless spell.
So yeah, normal.
Until Friday came.
That night, after my patrol, I went to go see Ronick again, as I had every other night, with a mug of blood and Night's Fall. Other than a couple scratches on his stomach, Sawyer hadn't seen any markings or tattoos on him. But every time I'd visited, he looked a thousand times worse than the night before.
Tonight, he looked ne
