“I don’t think you’ll want anyone else seeing this.” The woman held up her phone. Its screen showed a video of a hospital room. Maren squinted. That was Hallie’s hospital room, and Maren sat beside her sister on-screen. Her legs went numb.

Maybe Ms. Malo paused the video and beckoned to Maren again, and this time she moved closer, floating like a balloon tied to the woman’s wrist. That couldn’t have been what she thought she saw. It wasn’t possible.

But it was. The video had been shot from somewhere to the left of Hallie’s bed. Judging from the picture’s fuzzy edges and the long stalk of green running up the side, the camera had been hidden in a flower arrangement. Maren watched herself glance nervously at the door and then begin to sing happy birthday to her sister.

“No,” she whispered, wishing she could scream through the camera, through space and time and warn her past-self not to do what she was about to do. But past-Maren slipped out of her chair, still singing, and leaned over Hallie. The camera zoomed in. Past-Maren glanced straight at it, unseeing, and then opened her sister’s mouth. She took a tiny something from her pocket and placed it in Hallie’s mouth. The worry and hope etched all over her past-self’s face cut Maren deep, made her want to sob with frustration and fury.

“How dare you?” she said as the video cut out.

The woman slid her phone into her purse. “I hope you’ve brought me truly horrific nightmares.”

Maren nearly choked on her rage. “These dreams are so frightening, my grandmother won’t sell them to most people.”

Maybe Ms. Malo smirked. “If you’re lying, I’ll send this video straight to your grandmother and all of your sister’s doctors. And post it on the internet for good measure.”

Maren gaped. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“I’m sure you know it’s against hospital rules to feed magical things to poor, unsuspecting coma patients.” The woman’s voice was ice and razor blades. “I’m also sure Rockpool Bay has laws about using magic on people against their will. You won’t be allowed to set foot in this building again. Or in Sterling or Whittaker, whichever your parents end up choosing.”

Hot acid swam up Maren’s throat. She pulled the plastic-wrapped nightmares from her bag. “Take them,” she said. “I hope they scare you to death.”

Just you and nobody else. Maren’s whole body thrummed with guilt. Giving away nightmares was the worst thing she’d ever done, and she hated herself for being so selfish. But it wasn’t just about her. It was about healing Hallie, too, and their family. The last thing Maren’s parents needed was a scandal on top of everything else.