She tried to wipe them clear, but all she could see was stinging red. The cats’ hissing grew louder, and furry bodies began to weave around her ankles. Back and forth and higher, up her legs, their razor claws piercing her skin.

“Go away,” she whispered, trying to pull them off, but their fur was slick with paint. “Get off!”

The cats clambered up her back and chest, and a furry face rubbed against her cheek. Its breath drifted into her nostrils, reeking of rubber and rust and rot.

Maren screamed.

And woke.

But she couldn’t open her eyes. She tried and tried for a long time before realizing they were already open, but it was so dark that it made no difference. Her head felt like a cracked egg, and dust clung to her lips and eyelashes. Maren eased up to her elbow and waited for the horrible spinning to stop. It was so much harder to stabilize when she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t tell which way was exactly up.

“Hello?” Her voice came out scratchy and dust-coated. “Is anyone there?”

Silence. Then a click clack click clack over her head.

“All I wanted was a few dreams.” Obscura’s voice was muffled, but her tone was sour and flat. “You didn’t have to make me do that.”

Panicky bile rose up Maren’s throat. “Where am I?”

“Under the stage, where the trapdoors go.” Obscura’s shoes tapped closer. “It’s called the trap room.” She laughed like she’d just made a hilarious joke, and Maren bit her tongue to keep from screaming. “A few days in there should make you a bit more cooperative.”

Something skittered past Maren, either a small rodent or a large bug. She scooted in the other direction, and her shoulder slammed into a hunk of metal. Overhead she could just make out a single line of grayish light, not bright enough to help her see anything.

“Where did you get that nightmare?” said Maren. Lishta had no dreams like that in her shop, and Maren had never heard of Hallie making one about cats. She had to admit, it was very good.

“I made it,” said Obscura. “I held that jar of dream crystals under Gran-Gran’s nose while she slept.”

“You made…” Maren caught herself. If she told Obscura the truth, that the dream had been genuinely terrifying, Obscura might decide she didn’t need to keep her around anymore. “I mean, of course you did,” Maren said. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Why?” snapped Obscura.

“Well, you did a good job…for a beginner.” Maren layered false kindness over her words and tucked her feet up so nothing could crawl on them. “But the walls had a lot of patches with nothing on them, and every so often the cats turned into pencils.”

Dead silence.

“But like I said, it was a really solid first attempt,” added Maren quickly. “I screamed. Did you hear me?”