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“Wait, what?” I demand.
Quinn’s brow furrows as every eye in the room focuses on her. “Shadow selves that have crossed over tend to gravitate toward each other,” she says slowly. “The village has always been a safe place for them.”
An entirevillageof shadow selves?
“What do you know about shadow selves, Quinn?” says Reid, sounding utterly perplexed. “You said…you said those people were your family.”
“They are,” she insists. “At least in the important ways. They took me in and raised me after my parents died. At least I think they’re dead. I was so young when it happened, I don’t remember them at all. My parents—my adoptive parents—said they found me wandering the barrens all alone. I was four. They took me in and waited for my parents to coming looking for me, but they never did. By the time I was seventeen, I moved into New York with the hopes of getting into the vampire industries. Not many opportunities in the barrens, and the risks as a human are…higher. Anyway, by eighteen, I was with Reid.” Her smile softens as she lays a hand on his shoulder.
“Do you know how they came over to this side? Or what happened to the versions of them who used to be here?” asks Connor.
“Or do you know how to send a shadow self back?” I add. “One who doesn’t have a physical form yet.”
Quinn’s head ping-pongs between us, the line between her eyebrows deepening. “It was different for each of them, the circumstances that allowed them to cross over. As for sending them back…I don’t know. It’s rare for one to exist on this plane if not in the full capacity. They would’ve needed something to latch on to to cross.”
“Or someone,” murmurs Connor, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
Quinn follows his gaze. “It’s yours.”
I nod.
“And she’s made contact with you?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
She chews on her lip, worry dampening the light in her eyes. “I’ve never seen it done before, and with no magic of my own, I’ve never learned how to do it. Someone back home may know.”
But would they willingly give up that information? Something that could be used against them?
“Can you get in touch with them from here?” Reid asks. He leans forward but comes to a sudden stop after a few inches, his wince evident despite how hard he tries to hide it.
“You need to rest,” I say. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“I’ll see if I can get ahold of them,” says Quinn. “But I agree with Valerie. For now, you just focus on healing.”
“Connor, I need to stay here with him, but can you go check that everyone else is okay?”
He nods and heads for the door, Quinn close behind. “I’ll keep you updated.”
The door clicks shut as I grab a washcloth to wet in the bathroom sink. The healers have been in such a hurry with all the injuries, so they tended to Reid’s wounds but didn’t have time for much else. His eyes are closed and his head tipped back against the wall as I sit beside him, bringing the wet cloth up to get some of the dirt and blood off his face.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly.
“Stop talking.” I move on to his chin, then his jaw, careful to avoid anything that might be painful. Even with all the help he’s received and his accelerated vampire healing, he looks so…humanright now. That blast could’ve killed him. A second longer standing there and it probably would have.
His hand finds my knee, the touch light. “I really am feeling better already.”
I nod, focused on scrubbing the blood from his hairline, but the strands are entirely coated in blood and dirt. I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out without a full shampoo. Every time I blink, I see him staked to the floor when the Russians were testing if I could bring him back. Coming home to find him not moving, not breathing. Not even a whisper of life left inside him.
His fingers flex against my leg. “Valerie.”
Westcott’s words—He’s already dead—echo in my head.Walking into that cold room where his body was so still on a metal table.
“Valerie.”
His arms bound to the post as the whip sliced through his flesh, the air filled with jeers and slurs, and he’d just taken it. He’d just put his head down and taken it.
“Please look at me,” he whispers.
