Maren had never heard of magic that let people communicate with insects, though. Lishta seemed equally fascinated. The old woman gazed at the moth for a long while, then blinked rapidly as if to clear her head. She readjusted her apron.

“I’m afraid I can’t sell you more than three nightmares at a time. If you read the fine print of the contract you signed a few months ago, you’ll see that it’s spelled out quite clearly.”

Maren’s fingers slid toward the pink flying dream that lay forgotten on the counter. She had taken one last week, and it was everything Lishta had promised it’d be. When she closed her eyes, Maren could still feel the effortless weightlessness, the chilly wind kissing her face. It was the perfect sensation for someone trapped in a hospital bed. The perfect dream to energize somebody, to enliven them and give them the strength to heal and wake up.

Shuffle ball change stamp went Maren’s feet. Hallie would never tell on her for breaking the rule, even if she woke up tomorrow. Her fingernail scratched the stitched edge of the pink sachet.

“How about five?” said the woman.

Lishta shook her head. “You signed the contract agreeing to our terms. If you’d like to take your business elsewhere, that’s fine.”

Maren’s lips twitched with a barely suppressed grin. This was the only dream shop on the entire East Coast. Maren’s distant cousins in Oklahoma also had dream magic, but they didn’t make nightmares. There were rumors of other shops hidden around Europe and the Middle East, but Maren knew nothing about them.

“Four, then.” The woman opened her handbag. “I’ll pay you double for them.”

“It’s three or nothing,” said Lishta. “Rules are rules, and I refuse to haggle.”

Before her grandmother noticed the stray dream on the counter, Maren tucked it inside her fist.

“VOLEUSE!” shouted Henri. The tall woman glanced sharply at Maren, who felt her face go hot.

“No one is stealing anything,” said Lishta. “Ms. Malo will pay for her nightmares, just like everyone else.”

Pulse thundering, Maren turned away and pretended to put the dream in a jar, sliding it inside her sleeve instead. Busy wheeling the ladder over to the opposite side of the shelves, Lishta didn’t notice.

“If I’m only getting three, they’d better be terrifying,” snapped the dark-haired woman.

Lishta’s shoulders hunched up for a second. “I’m certain I have the perfect thing for you, dear.” As she climbed the ladder, Henri fluttered up to the top rung, then hopped impatiently from one side to the other until she reached him. With a happy squawk, he leapt on top of the old woman’s head and settled comfortably on her braids.