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  “If we can stop him,” Tovah whispered. “That’s a big if.”

  “Do you want to live the rest of your life unable to dream, Tovahleh? Because that’s what’s happening. Maybe not to everyone. But to many. To me.” Henry looked pained and suddenly paler. “To you, no?”

  She thought of the last few times she’d gone into the Ephemeros. It had been a while since she’d been able to go to the club or make flowers in her meadow. She missed those simple pleasures that had come to mean so much and had made her waking life bearable. “Yes. To me, too.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “Do you mean it?” The boy heard hope in his voice and hated himself for trusting.

  The witchwoman got to her feet. “You put him down.”

  The blood stained her face like war-paint. The dogman pressed against her leg and she reached to bury her hand inside the thick, dank fur of its head. Its hand curled around her ankle. It had not yet decided to go naked, but the boy knew that time was coming. Maybe, too, a time when not only its head would become that of a dog.

  “You put my boy down,” the witchwoman said. “He is my boy. I planted him. I watered him. I grew him from a seed. He is my boy, and I shall have the reaping of him, too!”

  “Fuck off,” said Edward, and the witchwoman laughed.

  “He’s not yours.”

  “He’s not yours, either.”

  The boy buried his face in Edward’s shoulder. The screams grew louder. Maybe it was the wind. The witchwoman didn’t care. Her fingers curved to slap and scratch. She pushed away the dog’s head from her thigh, where it had been sniffing, and the dogman snarled.

  “He’s as much mine as he is anyone’s!”

  “And why,” said Edward softly, “is that?”

  “Because I am the one who makes him afraid,” said the witchwoman. “I own him. We own him, the dogman and I, and you…you are just—”

  “I’m trying to help him!” cried Edward, cradling the boy against him as though he were suddenly afraid he might drop him.

  “You are trying,” said the witchwoman, “to help yourself.”

  “That doctor man. He’s a friend to you?” Henry lifted his chin toward the door, though Martin had not yet returned.

  “Yes. A good one. He brought me here tonight. He helped with my leg.”

  She didn’t mention the kiss.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “I—” Tovah stopped herself. Did she trust Martin? “I have no reason not to trust him. Why? Has he hurt you?”

  “Tovahleh, would I know?” Henry spread his hands, the wry grin returning.

  “I trust him. He’s been kind to me. And to you, even if you didn’t know it.” Tovah’s left foot twinged suddenly and she automatically used her right to itch it—though it wasn’t really there.

  Henry looked down. “Inside, you might not have it, either.”

  Tovah looked, too, at the smoothly folded and pinned hem of her soft sleep pants. She hadn’t even changed. “I know. Whoever it is…he’s strong. Or she.”

  “Yes.”

  “And every time, so far, the leg’s gone when he starts doing his thing. That boy.” She paused. “Who’s not a boy.”

  “Will you be all right, though, this time? Knowing what’s going to happen and facing it anyway?”

  “I’ll shape harder. Rocket-powered crutches, if I have to.”

  “Good girl.” Henry patted her shoulder. “We’ll help you. Ben and me.”

  Tovah still had no idea how they were going to make a difference. How they were going to convince this shaper to stop breaking the Ephemeros…or force him to. Henry winced as though something had poked him.

  “Henry?”

  “She noticed I’m gone.” His hands fell slack from hers, against his thighs. His lips parted with an intake of breath. His gaze swung back to Tovah’s, and it looked a little blank. “We have to hurry, Tovahleh.”

  She gripped him, hard. “Who has you? The woman? Henry, look at me!”

  Already his muscles were getting rigid under her touch, resisting her.

  “Me,” he said. “Me. Me. Me.”

  “Shit. Henry. Spider, listen to me! I’ll find you, okay? I’ll find you!”

  Henry’s eyes cleared for a moment. He shook his head, just slightly. He licked his lips. “Tovahleh, doll, listen to me.”

  She listened, but he did not speak.

  After too many seconds, his voice growled from his throat like the sound of rusty gears, like each word cut him. He made the effort, though at what cost Tovah was afraid to ask. His body beneath her hands had gone hard, the muscles like granite.

  “Find Ben. You and Ben, find me. And…Tovah…”

  “Yes, Henry?” She shook him though she knew it would do no good.

  He blinked, hard, and looked at her for the last time. “There’s a good chance, a really good chance…”

  She couldn’t ask him to stay with her. He had to go. But not like this, pulled against his will. “What is she doing to you?”

  And how? Was this real? Was Tovah awake or asleep? She was finding it hard to tell the difference now.

  “I might not…come back…”

  Then he was gone. The body remained, but the part of Henry that made him Henry had become Spider and disappeared into sleep.

  Henry sat motionless on the bed. His eyes had glazed over. When Tovah lifted his hand it moved without resistance, but hung in the air where she left it. She didn’t waste time with trying to wake him, but put his hand back on his lap. She wanted to lay him down, but couldn’t from her chair.

  She looked up at a sound in the doorway. “Martin!”

  “What’s going on?” The door banged shut behind him. He was at her side in a moment, doing doctorish things like checking Henry’s pulse and whipping out a pocket flashlight to look at his pupils. He gave Tovah an accusing look. “What happened?”

  The look, like he thought she’d done something, set her back a moment. “He’s back under.”

  It took her a second to realize that outside, all the noise and commotion had stopped. Martin stood and arranged Henry’s body on the bed. He took his time and care, going so far as to smooth Henry’s hair over his forehead before turning to Tovah.

  Henry’s door slammed open hard enough to hit the wall. The orderly standing in the doorway looked surprised, maybe at his own brute strength.

  “Sorry. I wanted to tell the doctor that we got everyone settled down now. Just like…they all just stopped.” He shook his head. “They all just stopped and went back to sleep.”

  Martin nodded. The orderly went away. Martin returned his attention to Tovah and sat on the edge of Henry’s bed. They stared at each other a moment longer in silence before he spoke.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, Tovah?”

  She’d heard that tone before, from well-meaning friends and physicians who sought to get her to admit she was having what was euphemistically referred to as “trouble orienting herself.”

  “Tovah?” Martin looked into her face but didn’t encroach on her personal space.

  Anticipation hung between them. Tension of a different sort. The sensation ran chill fingers over her skin, and Tovah fought a shiver.

  “He’s in trouble,” she said at last, knowing how that sounded.

  Martin looked at Henry, prone and silent. “Right now?”

  “I think so. Yes. I’m almost certain of it.”

  “But not positive?”

  Tovah thought of the boy, the woman and the dogman, and of a dream lover who’d taught her to climb mountains. Three who would harm a Spider…and one who might save him, if she could convince Edward it was what she needed. “I am sure that if he’s not in trouble at this moment, he will be very soon.”

  She watched him carefully for the signs she’d learned to recognize, but Martin didn’t appear to be placating her. He nodded after a second’s hesitation, like what she was saying made sense. He looked again at Henry.

  “And