“Yes.” Peter rubbed his eyes. “The stronger it gets, the weaker I get. I can feel the magic bleeding out of me.” He looked so tired and defeated. It only made her more worried.

As she tugged the seam to test her work—it was good enough to hold together for now—a thought occurred to her. “The woods.” Heat clawed up her neck. Wendy put the needle and thread away and left the kit on the counter. “Is that why it’s keeping them there—the missing kids and my brothers? Because of me?”

Wendy was terrified of the woods and the shadow was using it against her. It had lured her in there to taunt her with Alex, with the promise of finding her brothers, just to feed off her fear. It was her fault. It was all her fault. Wendy raked her fingers through her hair. “But why? Why my brothers? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Peter murmured quietly, thumbing the stitches on the knee of his jeans. “All I know is you’re the only one who can help me catch my shadow and put it back.” He looked … not good. His tan skin was paler than normal. Puffy bags were starting to form under his eyes. He was missing his usual spark. The change was unsettling.

Wendy wondered when was the last time he’d gotten some rest and something to eat.

“If we can’t stop it, what will happen?” she asked. “To the kids? My brothers?”

Peter shrugged and stared at the floor. It pained her to see him like this. It pulled at something in her chest. At the same time, she was frustrated with him. If she was going to help him, she needed more guidance and answers. She couldn’t just magically solve this mystery on her own. Those kids needed her and Peter—they had to find and rescue them. She needed to see her brothers again, to bring them back.

“Peter…” Wendy hesitated, scared of the answer she might get. “What will happen if you keep getting weaker, and it keeps getting stronger?”

Peter looked up and watched her for a moment. She could see him thinking. Physically, he was so young, even if he was growing older. But his intense eyes felt like they held the age of the galaxies swirling behind them. He was a star locked inside a boy’s body.

Peter shrugged again. “Nothing good.” He tried to conjure up a smile, but it was nothing compared to its brilliance when he really meant it. “So we can’t let that happen.”

Wendy pressed her fingers to her mouth and tried to think.

“We need to call the police. We need their help,” Wendy finally said. She couldn’t believe she was even considering it, but where else could they turn for help?