He reached down to stroke her cheek. His hand did not pass through her, his fingers were stopped by her skin, but there was no sensation of feeling. He felt neither the warmth of her body nor the softness of her face. Her cheek was merely an impediment to him. But there was no more wall between them, and though he could no longer feel her the way he had in that split second before he’d been pulled back to the House, just the fact that he could be close to her made him feel better, made him feel good.

He bent down even farther to kiss her, and he realized that when he pressed his cheek to hers, he could hear her sleeping thoughts. She was dreaming about him, planning their reunion, thinking about their future life together, and he had to pull away; it was too painful, too raw. He wished he could talk to her, wished he could communicate, but when he tried to nudge her and wake her up, he found that he could not move her. He could touch her form but was unable to exert any pressure against it. He said her name. Softly first, then louder, but she did not awaken.

He straightened, turned toward the door. Tony was the real reason he’d returned, Tony and Doneen, and he took one last look at Margot’s sleeping form, then walked out of the bedroom. He could not only pass through the door now but through the wall, and he walked directly into Tony’s room through the back of the closet.

Doneen was on the bed talking to Tony, sitting next to him. The boy could obviously see her, obviously hear her, and there was an expression on his son’s face as he listened to the girl that made Daniel feel extremely uneasy. It was a look he’d never seen before, an insidious, unwholesomely cunning look that seemed totally out of place on Tony and only served to accentuate the influence Doneen was exerting on him.

A doll lay between the two of them.

“Tony!” Daniel yelled.

The boy gave no indication that he could hear.

“Tony!”

Doneen’s eyes flicked up at him for a brief second, but she continued talking to his son in a low, steady, even voice, not pausing, and the boy did not turn or even flinch when he screamed his name again.

“TONY!”

Daniel moved closer, grabbed his son’s arm, but though his hand closed around the boy’s wrist, he could not move the arm, no matter how hard he tried. He put all of his muscles, all of his weight into it, but it was like trying to lift a mountain, he was not able to pull his son even a fraction of an inch.