Well, there’s another thing Sarah and I have in common. “I spent a lot of time thinking about John and the others. About how I could help them.”

“And?”

I open up my hands, showing Sarah what I came up with: a whole lot of nothing.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, there’s always the crossbow.”

“I’m worried I won’t be able to help. Like sooner or later I’ll end up captured again, or worse, and that’ll just screw things up for the others. Then I hear a story like Eight told tonight and I wonder if maybe it wouldn’t have been better if John had left me in Paradise like Eight left those soldiers. Like maybe he’d be better off without having to worry about me.”

“Or me,” Sarah says, frowning.

“I didn’t mean that,” I say hurriedly.

“It’s okay,” Sarah says, touching my arm. “It’s okay because you’re wrong, Sam. John and the others do need us. And there are things we can do.”

I nod, wanting to believe her, but then I look down at the scars on my wrists and remember what Setrákus Ra told me in West Virginia. I fall silent. Sarah hops to her feet, holding her hand out.

“For starters,” she says, “we could go make some breakfast. They probably won’t make us honorary Loriens for it, but it’s a start.”

I force a smile and climb to my feet. Sarah doesn’t let go of my hand. She’s looking at the dark purple scars on my wrists.

“Whatever happened to you, Sam,” she says, holding my gaze, “it’s over now. You’re safe.”

Before I can respond, a piercing shriek erupts from one of the bedrooms.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I JOLT AWAKE AS SOON AS ELLA STARTS SCREAMING. It was my night to stay with her and it had gone by peacefully. We’d stayed up late talking about the new arrivals and what Malcolm Goode had told us about Pittacus Lore and the possibility of helpful Mogadorians. Ella had finally fallen asleep and I’d hoped that maybe the nightmares plaguing her since New Mexico were finally gone for good. She hadn’t had one since reading Crayton’s letter. Maybe it was all stress related after all. Now that she’d gotten over the anxiety of that unopened letter, things could get back to normal.

I should’ve known better.

“Ella. Ella, wake up!” I shout, trying to decide if I should shake her. I’m feeling a little panicked, especially when she doesn’t immediately snap awake. Ella digs at the blankets with her fingers, kicking her heels into the mattress, all while belting out steadily hoarser screams. She’s moving about so much that she almost falls out of the bed. I reach out to steady her.