Maren gritted her teeth so hard they made a crunching sound. She couldn’t keep her eye on the dark alley and the man at the same time. He let out a wet, phlegmy cough and took a small box from his pocket. Humming quietly, he unfolded its waxed-paper lining, pulled out a clump of stuck-together lozenges, and popped it into his mouth. Then he held the box out in Maren’s direction and gave it a shake.

“These’ll clear out that frog you’ve got stuck in your throat,” he said.

It wasn’t a frog; it was a rock. Maren licked her papery lips and checked that the numbers were still on her phone screen. No bus. She never should have come out here alone. She should have waited until tomorrow and figured out a way to distract Lishta so she could steal the nightmares in broad, safe daylight. She could have made Lishta extra cups of tea and gotten the nightmares when she went to the bathroom. Maren was furious with herself for not thinking of that. If she got herself kidnapped, it would devastate her parents. They’d been through enough already.

The man shook his box of cough drops again, and the smell of his breath wafted over: sour cherry menthol mixed with sardines and smoke. Maren’s eyes began to water. It wasn’t crying—only babies cried when they were scared.

“No, thank you.” Her voice flew out firm and angry.

“So you can speak.” The man twisted his braided beard and smirked. “Suit yourself. I got the last box before they shut down.”

Maren glanced across the street at the pharmacy and realized its windows were boarded up. A black sign like the one outside Zottery Pottery sat propped beside the door. COMING SOON: THE MONKEY’S PAW, it said, and underneath the silver script was a grisly illustration of a disembodied monkey’s hand, its dried-up fingers curled into a claw.

“Are you taking over the pharmacy, too?” said Maren.

The man’s thorny laugh made her stomach clench. “I’m a business associate of the new owner,” he said. “But it’s not going to be a pharmacy anymore.”

Maren looked at the black and silver sign and tugged her sweatshirt zipper up tighter. Someone had once tried to sell Lishta a monkey’s paw like that, but she’d refused, saying some items were too disgusting even for nightmares.

“Things are changing here,” said the man, and Maren hated that she had to agree. The pharmacy had been in business for fifty years and carried a few charmed remedies for things like toothaches and gout. This made four businesses in a week that were either temporarily closed or out of business. Something was rotten in Rockpool Bay. And Maren suspected she knew who this man’s business associate was.