Again, Brooke and Maryanne cast out before her and she was left there chanting alone. They’d gone more quickly than ever this time. It was becoming second nature to them. Alex stiffened as she continued to tap and chant. She knew why the delay, of course. Her own fear was holding her back. Full memory of the assault was so close now, so frighteningly close... But she was a caster, dammit! And she wanted— “—out.” Suddenly she was. As always, Alex looked back at the slump of their three bodies on the attic floor. So defenseless lying there in the glowing candlelight. Brooke’s original’s right hand flopped to the side, weakly smacking Alex’s original on the ribs. That that was the extent of her physical ability didn’t seem to bother Brooke. Alex felt the tap, of course. It still was strange to her, this dual consciousness. “Waving, Brooke?” Alex asked, turning to Brooke’s dark cast beside her. Brooke laughed. “It still strikes me funny.
