Amber’s demon-self walked up beside them, in shocking clarity amid all the blurred details of the alley. “A speargun is a shit weapon,” she said, and stepped into Amber and Amber gasped, like she was reabsorbing every violent thought she’d ever had, and the fuzziness vanished and she blinked. She wasn’t in the alley anymore. She was in Jesper’s office, with the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and the big windows and the desk that was probably once owned by a president. She was still in demon form, and Jesper was there, and Milo stood beside her with his head down and his eyes closed, and right in front of her with his finger tightening on the trigger of his speargun was the Nightmare Man.

Amber jerked her head to the side as she batted the speargun away. The gun hissed with compressed gas and the spear shot past her ear and thudded into the bookshelf behind. Beneath his plastic mask, Sterling looked surprised, and angry, but before he had a chance to recast whatever spell he’d put on her, she shoved him. He lost the speargun when he hit the ground and went sprawling. Jesper staggered back against his desk, actual fear on his face now, but Amber ignored him as Sterling scrambled to his feet. His features contorting with hatred, he slid a spear from his jacket, then dived for his fallen weapon. When he was in mid-air, Milo drew his gun and fired three times.

Sterling collapsed mere inches away from his weapon. Blood leaked from the bullet holes in his chest.

Amber raised her eyes to Jesper. He wasn’t looking so confident now.

“We don’t have to be enemies,” the old man said.

Milo grunted, grabbed Jesper’s arm, and dragged him after Amber as she headed for the door they’d come through. She shook away the last remnants of the dream and took the brass key from her pocket. Ignoring Jesper’s attempts at bargaining, she did her best to visualise the mirrored door back at the carnival, but images of her parents eating her flesh kept sneaking back into her thoughts.

“I remember him now,” said Milo.

She looked at him. “What?”

“I’ll pay you,” said Jesper. “Ten million. Ten million each.”

“Shut up,” said Milo, and turned back to Amber. “The Nightmare Man. I remember him. Or the stories, at least. Only two other people are known to have managed to break out of that … whatever that was. Trance, or whatever. Only two. And now you.”

“I didn’t much like the dream he had me in.”

“Didn’t like mine, either,” said Milo, “but I was trapped in it. Not like you.”

Amber shrugged. “I got lucky.”

“Stop selling yourself short, kid,” Milo said. “Own your awesomeness.”

She grinned. “Awesomeness?”

“And you can shut up now, too, and concentrate on getting us the hell out of here.”