And yet now he envisioned her as “Liz Pike,” the sixties coed, or in old-timey Victorian clothes—

“I was thinking about when we were little,” Mateo said. “All the fun stuff we used to do together.”

“Those were good times, weren’t they? Maybe you can think about those while you try to fall asleep.”

“What was your favorite? Out of all those memories.” He needed to hear that—to remember it through her, to know that she treasured those experiences as much as he did.

Elizabeth said, “All of them, of course.”

“Pick one.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Why was she being so vague? It couldn’t be that she didn’t cherish those memories as much as he did—that was impossible. Elizabeth had proved, time and again, how much she cared about him. If Elizabeth could forgive him for being a freak, then Mateo could forgive her for keeping a few secrets she felt she had to keep.

But I’m not a freak, he reminded himself. The curse is real. What happened to Mom, to all the other Cabots—that was something done to us.

Her soft voice said, “You’ll call me if you have another of the dreams, won’t you? Right away. I don’t want you to worry.”

If she is a witch, the way Nadia says, she knows the curse is real but won’t tell me about it. Not even to make me less afraid of going nuts and killing myself.

“Okay,” he said. He couldn’t picture her lying next to him any longer. “Good night.”

“Night,” she replied. Funny, how he’d never noticed before now that she never added the good in front.

That night, despite all the Tylenol PM, he dreamed.

The entire world was fire.

Floor. Ceiling. Walls. Doors. Every breath burned in Mateo’s lungs. Red, yellow, orange: They all glowed and flickered around him, strangely alive, as if heat itself could hate him enough to kill.

Nadia lay at his feet, her dark hair just another burn in the scorched world that now enclosed him.

Mateo wanted to go to her—to save her, to hold her, something, anything—but he couldn’t, because he was in someone else’s arms.

Why couldn’t he let go?

From her place on the floor, Nadia whispered, “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

Desperately Mateo tried to reach her, but he remained held fast—those weren’t arms holding him, they couldn’t be—they were chains—

He awoke with a start.

Then swore.

Then rolled over in bed, punching his pillow, to wait out the long, sleepless hours until dawn.

“You’re positive?” Cole whispered, his covers drawn up under his chin.

Nadia closed the closet doors. “Inspected it top to bottom. No monsters. Absolutely, one hundred percent monster-free.”

He smiled a little, and she came to his bedside and ruffled his hair. As Cole relaxed, he said, “Can we have mac and cheese tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is a pizza night. I won’t be here. But I bet Dad will order all the toppings you want. You should pick some crazy ones. Like—pineapple and anchovy!”