“I did.” Obscura’s voice was sharp and annoyed.

“A good nightmare is a work of art.” Maren paused to consider her words. “It takes a lot of practice before you can craft something truly spectacular. You have to build up your…technique.”

Another long pause. Maren brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and realized it was a cobweb. She slapped at her face, shook out her hair, and combed through it with her fingers, shuddering.

“I’ll think about it,” said Obscura.

The dark was so thick, Maren felt like it was eating her. “Could I please have a flashlight?”

The shoes click-clacked away.

“Please?” called Maren.

“I’ve got dreams to deliver,” said Obscura’s faint voice. “See you tomorrow…maybe.”

“No!” Maren leapt to her feet. On tiptoe, she reached up until she felt splintery wood, the hinges and the edge of a trapdoor where the line of gray light glowed faintly. She pushed, but the door didn’t budge. “Please! Don’t leave me in here all night. I’ll make any dreams you want. I promise I won’t try anything funny. You can sit with me the whole time. I promise, I promise.”

From somewhere in the distance came Obscura’s voice, sharp and annoyed. For a second, Maren thought she was coming back to let her out, but then another voice joined in. A man’s. Maren struggled to make out the words, but she recognized the slithering voice. It sounded like a centipede.

“I told you not to come here,” yelled Obscura, and the man murmured and pleaded. Maren held her breath and tried to hear the rest of the conversation, but she only made out a few words: garbage cans and moths and midnight and something about a bribe, which caused Obscura to yell again and the man to apologize again.

Then Obscura’s click-clacking shoes faded away. A door banged, and all went silent.

Maren sank to the gritty floor, tucked her knees up, and hugged them tight. She’d been right about Obscura being that man’s business associate. She wondered how much he knew about her scheme, if he even knew Maren was here, locked in this awful, claustrophobic space that was surely swarming with spiders. Black spiders with long legs. Hairy, fat brown spiders. Jumping spiders. Maren stifled a sob.

“Mom,” she whispered. “Dad, please come and find me.”

Slowly, the line of gray overhead dimmed until it disappeared. Maren wished with every molecule of herself for a time machine. She’d go back to the moment where she and Amos found the note in the dream shop, and she’d call her parents instead of rushing to rescue Lishta. She’d go back further than that and tell Lishta the truth as soon as Obscura started threatening her. She’d go back further and never give Hallie that dream. Even further and tell Hallie to be careful at the traffic light.