I also had trouble sleeping because my bed was a giant beanbag.

“You sure you don’t want the couch?” asked Marcus.

I shook my head and gave the beanbag a couple of half-hearted punches to get it into shape. “You take it,” I said. “I don’t know if I could fall asleep under any conditions.”

He grinned. “Howie probably has something to help you sleep.”

“No thanks,” I said with a snort.

Marcus shut out the lights and curled up on the mustard yellow couch. Silence fell, aside from the occasional faint strains of “Mr. Tambourine Man” coming from the basement. I shifted a few times, trying to get comfortable but having little success. I tried to turn my thoughts from Sydney toward thinking about tomorrow, when I’d be helping the witches interrogate Alicia. Those weren’t exactly calming thoughts, but they at least helped me channel my emotions into something besides anxiety. Before she’d left, Maude had said someone would come and pick me up tomorrow evening to take me to where Alicia was being held. Apparently, they were busy securing a location and also trying to figure out a way to slip Ms. Terwilliger out without the spying Alchemists following her.

Amazingly, despite all the crazy conditions, I did finally fall asleep. And even more incredibly, I found myself being swept into a spirit dream by someone else. As a lush tropical garden slowly materialized around me, I knew who the dream’s creator was even before she appeared.

“Hello, Sonya,” I said.

She emerged from behind a honeysuckle bush, wearing casual gardening clothes but with her red hair immaculately styled. “Adrian,” she said, by way of greeting. “You’re hard to find in sleep these days. I can’t tell what schedule you’re on.”

“Not much of any,” I admitted. “Haven’t had much sleep, really. We’ve been busy.”

“I’ve gathered as much. Rumor has it the Alchemists know you left Court now.”

“Afraid so.” I leaned against a palm tree. “You could have called if you wanted to talk.”

She nodded. “I know. But I wanted to chat face-to-face. There was also something you could only see in a dream. Or rather, someone.”

It took me a moment to realize what she meant. “Nina.”

Sadness filled Sonya’s features. “Yes. Her waking condition hasn’t changed very much. She’s not exactly comatose, but she’s also not particularly responsive. If you put food in front of her, she’ll eat it. Turn on a shower, she’ll stand under it. But she makes few decisions that aren’t initiated for her. And she never talks.”

The shock of that news made me reel, and I used a small bit of spirit to create a bench to sit on. “Is there any hope for improvement?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Sonya sat beside me. “I mean, I’m praying there is. I never want to say there’s no hope. But that spirit overload . . . it was too much, with too little preparation. She was in such a fragile state already from excessive use and in no way prepared to handle what she summoned. The scarring from it was formidable.”

My heart plummeted. “I should have stopped her somehow.”

“I don’t think you could have, Adrian. She was intent on doing whatever she thought she had to do to find her sister.”

I hesitated, almost afraid to speak my next words. “I found her. I found Olive and learned why she ran. But . . . well, the story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.”

Sonya didn’t press me for details. “I’m not sure I’d tell her that.”

“Tell her?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. When Nina wouldn’t respond in person, I tried reaching her in spirit dreams. That didn’t work either at first. Then I was able to—in a way. I’ll show you.”

She fell silent and stared off at a clearing in the garden. After several moments of intense concentration, a huge rectangular block of stone appeared. A small opening was cut into it, but that opening was covered in bars. I stood up and peered inside, gasping at what I saw. Nina sat there in the small stone cell, on the floor, wrapped in shadows.

“Nina!” I exclaimed.

She stared off at the stone wall, saying nothing, her face expressionless.

“Nina? Can you hear me?”

Sonya came to stand beside me. “I think she can, but I just don’t think she’s capable of responding.”

I gestured to the portable stone prison around her. “Where did this come from?”

“Her mind,” replied Sonya. “This is how she sees herself: trapped. But honestly? The fact that she appears this way at all is promising. Before, there wasn’t enough of her mind to form any sort of connection with. I’m hoping, in time, that she’ll advance further, so I try to talk to her either in person or in dreams. I thought you’d like to know, in case you want to visit as well.”

“I do,” I said, still coming to terms with the shock I felt at her condition. Even while imprisoned and tortured, Sydney’s mind had remained strong enough to connect at the spirit-dream level. What kind of damage had been done to Nina to put her in this state? Was this the danger I was courting with my continued spirit use?

“I think it’s good for different people to talk to her,” said Sonya carefully. “But I think certain topics are best avoided until she’s recovered. Like unhappy endings.”