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Reid.
“You have to hear me. You have to be able to hear me.” He holds my cheeks so our noses are an inch apart, and tears run down his face.
How long have I been like this? Is my heart beating? Am I breathing?
A gust of wind cuts through the yard. Half a dozen wendigos drift forward, straight through the fence.
I crouch beside Reid, pressing my hand to my physical body, but I go right through.
“No, no, no,” I whisper.
“Please come back,” Reid whispers, his eyes closed and forehead pressed to mine. “Please come back. I love you, Valerie, please come back to me.”
“I’m right here.” I reach for his face, but my hands go through him too. “Reid, I’m right here,” I say, louder this time even though I know he can’t hear me.
But then his head lifts an inch.
“Can you hear me?” I demand, frantically grasping for the bond in my chest, but I can’t feel it right now. “I can’t get through! I’m right here. I’m right here!”
I dig my blade into my wrists, letting my blood fall as I press my hands to my physical form again, but nothing happens.
“I’m righthere,” I grit through my teeth.
“Get back in the circle,” Reid barks.
“Reid…” Kirby starts, sniffling and rubbing at her wet eyes.
“Now!” He looks at them over his shoulder. “She’shere,” he insists. “She can’t get through.”
That, finally, spurs them into motion.
The wendigos circle in, one behind each of my friends. Oh God.Oh God.What if they can reach them through the veil?
“Stay away from them!” I shriek.
Adrienne and Monroe kneel so they can grasp my physical body’s hands on the ground, tears flowing down their cheeks as they chant.
The wendigo closest to me turns its head, its cloak flowing behind it as it moves closer. It lifts an arm, its sleeve falling back to reveal its claws.
But the panic bubbling inside of me gives way to determination, to rage.
This is not happening again.
“Use the vial.”
My head snaps up. A figure as dark and shadowy as the wendigos stands behind Reid. She cocks her head, studying me, an easy smirk on her face.
On…myface.
My head spins. That makes three totalmesin this yard.
She snaps her fingers, bringing my attention back to her, then points at her own chest. “The bottle. You don’t have a lot of time.”
With shaking fingers, I pull the vial from my shirt.
“Good. Now, get back in line with her.” She points to the unconscious version of me—us.
What the fuck is going on?
