Two women carried a large, framed painting into the room. The subject wasn’t very exciting, just a bucolic landscape dotted with sheep, but the art was nonetheless appealing in some way. It bothered Jordan, actually, that she couldn’t pinpoint why she found it so appealing. She couldn’t stop looking at it. She wanted to get closer, but the crowd and her dignity wouldn’t allow it.

She glanced at the other partygoers to see their reaction to the painting, but their gazes were all firmly focused on the wingback chair in the middle of the room.

“Can I put my shoes on?”

It was a small, high voice. The boy had half sat up in the chair. With one youthful hand, he rubbed his eyes, and with the other, he reached for his shoes. He searched for a familiar face among the women looking at him. “Mum? Is it time for shoes?”

All around him, the previously still butterflies had taken flight. The little rabbit made a small thud as it jumped from the chair to the floor and made haste. The partygoers drew back to allow it to lope softly into their midst.

“Mum?” said the boy.

“As you can see, this particular sweetmetal is effective for multiple dependents at a distance of several yards,” Fisher said into the microphone. “Please inquire for a full list.”

Barbara made a sweeping gesture with her wineglass and the attendants carried the painting back to the side door.

“Mum?” said the boy again. “Oh, my shoe.”

One of the shoes had fallen from the chair. The boy reached for it just as the door closed behind the attendants. The painting was gone.

With a little sigh, the boy, too, fell from the chair to the floor beside it. The butterflies dropped from the air around him. One of the partygoers came forward long enough to lay the now-sleeping rabbit back in its initial position on the chair.

Jordan’s heart was an elevator with snapped cables.

Dreams.

The dependents were dreams without dreamers. And the sweetmetal—the painting that Jordan, a dream, had found strangely alluring—had temporarily woken them.

Just like that, Jordan realized Boudicca hadn’t invited her here because they knew Jordan Hennessy was an art forger. They’d invited her here because they knew Jordan Hennessy was a dreamer.

They’d invited her here because they knew Jordan Hennessy would have dreams she wanted to keep awake.

The rules of the game had changed.

Chapter 5

Matthew Lynch woke to the sound of his oldest brother screaming.

His brother’s old bedroom was down the hall and Matthew’s door was shut, but the sound came in clearly anyway. These old houses were full of nooks and crannies.

Matthew climbed out of bed, saying oof oof oof as the old floorboards chilled the bottoms of his bare feet, and then promptly smashed his head against the slanted ceiling.

Declan was still caterwauling.