Wendy twisted in Peter’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She balled his shirt into her fists and bawled with abandon.
Peter’s body tensed at first, but then his muscles relaxed. He placed one hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, pulling her closer. He tucked the top of her head under his chin.
The shadow had been right there in front of them. They should’ve stopped it. They should’ve done something. Wendy should’ve stopped it. That was why she was here, that was what she was supposed to do, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t—she didn’t know how. The thing that was holding John and Michael captive had been right in front of her, but she was still no closer to saving them.
Wendy didn’t know how long they stood there. She would start to calm down, but then she would think of her brothers scared in some dark room together, or Alex alone and crying in the woods, or the little girl, Ashley, being tormented by the shadow, and a new wave of guilt would consume her.
But Peter remained, holding on to her and occasionally speaking softly in her ear, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find the missing kids. We’ll figure this out. Wendy, it will be okay.”
Eventually, the crying subsided into intermittent hiccups. Maybe she had finally cried out all the tears left in her, or her body just didn’t have the strength to keep it up. Every sob and ache drained Wendy of her energy to fight. The very air seemed to be weighing on her shoulders. She was exhausted and defeated.
The only comfort was the radiating warmth of Peter as she huddled against him. When she finally pulled back, the front of his shirt was soaked with her tears and snot. She rubbed her nose off on the back of her hand and tried to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Her eyes stung. Everything was blurry. Her whole body ached with grief.
“Let’s get out of here,” Peter said gently. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s getting late. We don’t want to run into the search crews…”
Wendy could only nod in agreement as she wiped her nose on her arm. She started to follow Peter, fingers lacing with his, but as she left the clearing, Wendy couldn’t help sparing one last look at the tree.
It stood there, silent and gray as stone. All trace of the whispers had vanished.
CHAPTER 17
Fairy Lights
When they got back to Wendy’s truck, Wendy slid into her seat and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. With her eyes closed, she took a deep breath to steady herself. The springs of the passenger seat groaned as Peter climbed in. “What now?” he asked quietly at her side.
Good question.
Wendy turned her head, her cheek pressed into the warmed leather as she looked at him. Red tinged his freckled cheeks. His shoulders slumped, hands clasped in his lap. The auburn hair at the nap of his neck was damp with sweat. There was a tilt to his eyebrows that made her want to reach out and touch his arm.
Peter couldn’t stay in the woods. Soon enough, they would be overrun with police officers and volunteers. Even then, there was no way she was going to let Peter be by himself, not after what the shadow had done to him last night. Peter needed to be protected, too. She wanted to hide him away somewhere safe. The idea of something—or another thing—happening to him was out of the question.
There was the fleeting and outlandish desire to just run away and disappear, but Wendy wouldn’t abandon her brothers, not again.
She sighed and forced herself to sit upright. “Now, you come home with me,” she said definitively. She glanced over at Peter, half expecting him to object.
Peter simply stared out the windshield and, after a pause, nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.” An airy laugh escaped his lips.
“Good, then let’s go home.” Wendy moved to put her key into the ignition when she caught sight of the sun sinking below the tree line. She swore under her breath.
“What?” Peter said, suddenly alert, wide eyes jumping to the direction of the woods.
“The sun is going down and I haven’t called my dad yet,” she said, frantically digging her cell phone out of her pocket.
“Oh.” Peter sounded relieved. Wendy wished she felt the same.
She selected her father’s number from her favorites list and held the phone up to her ear. She pressed her lips together. The last thing she needed was to further piss her father off, or make him even more suspicious, when she was about to try to sneak Peter into the house overnight. Hiding a person in her room was a lot different than trying to hide something like a pet mouse, which she had done when she was little.