Page 56 of Inextricably Tied

“The spirits that find me are usually stuck before trauma, days or hours or minutes before the inciting incident.” Bodie braids her hair methodically, a ritual in its own right. “It’s often hard for them to focus on the details of what happened. It may take some time, and it may be painful. Is everyone prepared for that?”

It’s quieter than the chaos of before, something otherworldly settling between them. Hands link around the circle, weaving connections until Harbinger’s hand settles into Flint’s. Her reassuring smile through the dark is one last bit of comfort before the banshees cross beyond the Veil.

It’s amplified with so many of them here, a dull buzzing that shifts when Flint turns his head. What starts as the low croaking of a thousand voices becomes the vibration of tectonic plates. But when Flint looks around the room, it’s eerily still. No motion. Not a breeze. Liquid ripples in nearby glasses.

Flint focuses on the girls. Even Agony doesn’t move, brows knit as his eyes press closed.

“One of them is here.”

Bodie’s voice is little more than a breath. Ringing starts in Flint’s ears. Everything is silent and still, connection too tenuous to risk frightening the specter away.

Bodie’s head bows. She doesn’t lurch or scream as Flint feared she would, rattled and shaken by whatever exists on the other side of the Veil. Instead, it looks more like an agreement. An offering. Bodie extending herself as a mouthpiece to whomever wishes to speak.

Silence stretches through the room. Maybe the connection’s lost, gone wrong on the other side. But finally, Bodie lifts her head, blinking as if she’s woken from sleep. Her fingers tighten in the hands holding hers, breath evening as she stares into the middle distance.

“She’s young in her lifespan. Late adolescence.” Bodie’s fingers lift toward her cheek. The motion jolts in Flint’s stomach, but he tamps it down. Focus.

“What’s her name?” Harbinger murmurs.

Bodie’s head shakes once, as if the spirit speaks rapidly. “She was doing her hair. Getting ready for something.” Bodie’s fingers linger over her braids. Her voice is weary. “She felt beautiful.”

Flint pages back through through the stories they know. Zavi missed her soccer game, Evie had a date with her friends, Greer was prepping for an art show…

“She wasn’t supposed to go. Her brother told her not to.”

Flint’s talons dig into his palm.

“Who had a brother?” Harbinger whispers. “Zavi, Mila…”

“There was a man. He was nice.” Bodie’s voice drifts as if she’s mourning. Reid’s face flashes in Flint’s mind. “He was nice when she went with him. He told her they understood each other.”

Flint’s eyes meet Harbinger’s. “She knew him?” They’d found nothing to suggest the girls went with Reid willingly. That he groomed them. A cold chill darts through the room. Flint tenses to keep from shivering.

“But then he was cruel.” Bodie reaches over her shoulder, along her back, as if something protrudes — but there’s nothing. Then she covers her mouth. “Oh no.”

“What?” Poe asks. Bodie presses her chin down to her chest, sucking in a breath.

“I don’t want to say it.”

Omen ducks closer to her ear. Bodie tightens her fingers in his, color draining from her face as if she’s going to be sick.

“He —” Bodie shakes her head. Nausea rolls in Flint’s stomach. Harbinger sucks in a breath. “After — her wings —”

Bile rises in Flint’s throat. His tongue is heavy. Tingling. He can’t find breath to force the words out.

“Wings?” Harbinger murmurs. “But that’s not…”

Flint’s voice crackles like static. “It’s not them.”

Bodie hisses in pain. Omen wraps both his hands around one of hers. She clutches tighter, gritting her teeth. “It’s so much. It’s like she’s been waiting so long…”

Flint’s head swims like he’s there again, torn between before and after, her reflection in the mirror with hair falling down her back. Those same strands wet with blood, spilling out around her, as dark as a hole dug straight into the ground.

“Stop.” Flint breaks the grip Harbinger has on him, pushing to his feet. The candles flare. “It’s not one of them!”

Patches of black throb in his vision. He can’t breathe. He reaches for the wall, hand slipping when he tries to steady himself.

Someone calls his name. There’s a tunnel with Bodie at one end, her eyes locked on him for the first time. The look splinters his chest the same way it did all those years ago, worn by someone else. Her voice is small through the dark room.