He manages a few steps back, trying to force his voice to work, trying to tell Malcolm to run even though the music is still clawing at them. Then that thing is holding on to him, and anything coherent is blocked by the emptiness of immaculate panic.

It lasts forever, the moment between it taking his chin and the moment Neal feels a stabbing agony that turns into an odd, throbbing not-quite-numbness. It's a little like his mind has short-circuited at the pain. He staggers again when the monster lets him go, looking down at his midsection with horrified fascination at the red-black tide starting to melt outward from...

That's intestine, isn't it? Neal moves to touch it, shock making his ears ring, but he stumbles and falls flat on his back, head cracking against the floor hard enough that he sees sparks. Rosewood, he thinks absently. Rosewood and jasper, interesting combination of reds.