“No, of course not! How could I?” she spluttered, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not like they would believe me. We already ruled them out from being any use,” she muttered. If the police couldn’t find her brothers when they’d first gone missing, how could she expect them to help now? This was up to her and Peter.

Wendy cast a wary glance down both sides of the street. “Let’s keep walking,” she said.

Peter fell into step beside her. Fewer and fewer places felt safe anymore, and the last thing she needed was to be overheard talking to Peter by Jordan or the cops or, even worse, her parents.

“They do think you have something to do with the missing kids,” she continued.

“We already knew that from the news,” Peter pointed out.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re a suspect”—Peter winced—“I think they think that you were kidnapped, too,” she added quickly. “And since they connected you to my disappearance, they think that the person who is taking the kids now is the person who took me and my brothers.”

Peter only nodded. It was hard to read his expression as he stared down at his feet, deep in thought.

Wendy sighed and rubbed her palm against her forehead. “I guess, technically, they’re right?” she thought out loud. “Your shadow took my brothers and now it’s taking more kids.”

Again, Peter said nothing.

Wendy wrung her hands together. “It’s not hurting them, is it?” she asked, nervous to hear the answer.

Peter shook his head. “No, they need to be alive,” he told her, looking dismayed.

Wendy didn’t like how that sounded.

“In order for the shadow to feed off them, they have to be awake.”

“Awake and terrified,” Wendy finished.

Peter nodded again.

He’d told her before how shadows got stronger by feeding off of a person’s fear. Their terror and sadness, their sense of hopelessness. John and Michael had been trapped by the shadow for years. What was it like for them? What kind of existence was it, to be consumed by fear and unable to escape it?

Wendy’s chest ached. She couldn’t stand the thought of them suffering, especially for so long. She and Peter needed to rescue them.

“Do you know where they are?” Wendy asked.

“No—well, in the woods,” Peter corrected himself. “Definitely in the woods, but it could be hiding them anywhere with magic.”

They crossed the street and started walking down the road that led into town. It was the road that hugged the woods. The same one where Wendy had found Peter. They walked along the shoulder but, even in daylight, it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Her steps became slower and more hesitant. The overgrown trees and hanging branches loomed above them.