She stared, gorge rising. “Uncle,” she whispered, but he didn’t answer.
His guttural muttering continued. The wound that should’ve been spilling his guts onto the ground had closed, though he was still drenched in blood. A foul stench darkened the close air around them.
“Reee … eeee…”
“Uncle Jeremiah?”
The voice was not his. “Re … eeturn … me…” He held the box out to her.
Hettie reached for it, but the barrier slapped her back.
“No!” Uncle thrashed on the ground, arching and spitting like a hissing cat fighting a small snake. Hettie backed away, helpless, until finally, finally, the old man subsided and lay still.
Power shimmered as the barrier collapsed, as if the air blinked, and it was suddenly easier to breathe. She scrambled to Jeremiah’s side. He lay half curled in a pool of v
