I gripped the end of that Anna woman’s bed, drawing strength from her music box just as she did, clinging to what was solid. She wound it again while Dr. Turner likely put the frantic patient back to bed, then he came for me, leading me out with one hand to my back.

Light. A small glow along the corridor. I could see again, had a sense of what was around me. I took a few breaths as the world settled back into normalcy. Stones, wall lights, rows of doors.

But that face. Those wild eyes.

My legs began to tremble. No, convulse. I could not steady them. Alternating hot and cold prickled my skin, and I grabbed hold of a shelf recessed into the wall, propping myself up.

Dr. Turner swept me upright like a limp rag, searching my face. “What is it? What’s happened? Are you ill?”

Oh, the tenderness. The warmth in his look. I shook harder. The memory of low groans and distorted features along with bright, intelligent eyes pierced my composure, and I stumbled, shaking with silent tears. He caught me, and I leaned heavily on him. If he moved, I’d fall.

“You’re afraid.” He laid a hand on my back, and calm radiated from the spot where it lay. “I shouldn’t have taken you there so soon. It was too much.”

I didn’t fear the woman, actually. No, not at all. I recognized that intense sense of desperation, the sharp terror, and I feared becoming her, trapped forever in darkness once again. I’d come here as one separate from them, pitying them. As I’d stared into her face, so terribly afraid, the line between us had thinned and all but disappeared.

I smoothed my hands over my face, pushing back my hair and forcing a smile. “I’m afraid I have a rather irrational fear of the dark. Truly, I’m fine. It’s childish, really.”

He eyed me, unconvinced. I didn’t add any words to my explanation—I’d already admitted too much. I was glad of his closeness, though. Darkness had never been like this—so alive and full of mystery.

“Dr. Turner.” A voice sliced through the moment, and the solid chest jerked away. “The superintendent would like to speak with you.”

I stumbled forward, catching myself on the wall. Nurse Duffy stood tall and resolute several yards down the hall. Her hard look centered on me through the shifting light from the wall sconces that made her face seem harder. Older. Almost stony. “He’s waiting in the office.”

“Of course,” he said quietly. “I’ll be down presently.”

The nurse paused, looking from one of us to the other.

Turner crossed his arms. “Perhaps you should take him the message.”

“Of course, Doctor.” She lowered her gaze and hurried off, shoes clicking on tile as her uniform fluttered around her legs.