He would have run straight over her if she hadn’t snapped out of it and taken off like a shot ahead of him. It shouldn’t be here. It was like something from a dream had followed her into the real world, or maybe it was the other way—she’d followed it into the dream. Quentin covered a lot of ground with those long legs—he overtook her on the second floor, sprinting right past her, but he grabbed her hand as he passed her and pulled her along, practically yanking her arm out of its socket. He barked his shin hard on an ottoman as he ran, which must have hurt like hell.

“Run run run! Come on!”

On the third-floor landing Quentin paused and sent a spell down the stairs over her shoulder, something that flashed hot on her face, then they were running shoulder to shoulder up the stairs and into the workroom and through the door and out into the real world.

She slammed the door behind them, then blasted out the blocking spell she’d had ready for good measure. She’d totally forgotten about it till then. The air in front of the door shivered.

They looked at each other, both breathing hard.

“I don’t,” Quentin panted. “Think. She can. Come through.”

He looked like he was going to cry or be sick or both. She really hoped he did neither of those. They shouldn’t have cast the spell. Jesus, how stupid did you have to be—ancient enchantment rouses primal horror, it was the oldest story there was. Hubris. They were such idiots.

“How the fuck did she get here?” Plum gasped.

Quentin didn’t answer. His face looked weird: happy and sad and terrified all at once.

CHAPTER 22

Quentin didn’t sleep that night. He did try, because it seemed important, because sleeping was something you did at night, but it was never going to happen. After a couple of hours of staring at the ceiling shivering, his mind spinning and lurching like a dryer with a shoe in it, he gave up and got dressed and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. It was three in the morning. He stood in front of the red door for a good half hour, nervously jiggling his knee, clenching his jaw till it ached.

Then he began plastering himself with wards and boosting his reflexes and doing whatever else he could think of that might come in handy. He was going back through.