Obscura’s painted face twisted with rage, and Maren’s skin tingled with the same foreboding sensation she got when a thunderstorm came rolling in across the bay. The tall woman steadied herself, smoothed down the front of her impeccably tailored suit, and bent her lips into a smile. “Why not?”

“My grandmother locked them in the safe with the whispering dust, and I don’t have the combination.” Maren prayed Obscura couldn’t smell the nightmares nestled in the bottom of her backpack.

Obscura tutted and sighed. “Well then, I’m afraid this is the end. I hope you enjoyed your time with your sister…and at dear old Gran-Gran’s shop. It’s about time for her to retire anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” said Maren.

“All evidence of those rogue nightmares points straight to your grandmother.” Malice gleamed in Obscura’s dark eyes. “She did create them, after all. I dare say if you call the police, they’ll figure it all out pretty quickly, including the typewriter she used to write those incriminating notes.”

Maren thought of the mountain of old typewriters waiting to be repaired in the stockroom. There was no way of knowing if Obscura had used one of them. “But that’s absurd,” she said. “Why would anybody believe she was sneaking around giving people nightmares? And then trying to get them to leave town?”

“There are many reasons why a person might want to rid a town of all the other magical people.” Obscura tapped her narrow chin thoughtfully. “As for the regular people…”

“What regular people?” said Maren, but Obscura ignored her.

“Doesn’t she sell some kind of calming dreams for them to take after they have a nightmare? Seems like a good way to keep them coming into the shop and spending money. And then there’s the footage of you slipping dreams into the mouths of unconscious hospital patients.”

“My own sister!” Maren fought the urge to stomp on Obscura’s pointy shoe. Again, the woman continued like she hadn’t spoken.

“If all of that gets out, I don’t think anybody’s going to want to buy your dreams anymore…or even your typewriters.” Obscura’s purple lips turned down in an exaggerated pout. “Assuming the police let you keep the shop open, which seems unlikely.”

Maren swallowed hard. Losing the shop would be horrible. Losing the respect of everyone in Rockpool Bay would be even worse. Those customers had trusted Maren’s family, and she had betrayed them by helping this awful woman mess with their innermost thoughts and feelings. Maren deserved their hatred, but the rest of her family would be ruined, too. They’d have to leave town.