Aline’s arms draped over my shoulders. “Sweetie, you should go back at Raynard Hall. You need sleep.”

My eyelids sprung open. The edges of a dream pressed against my temples, like a locked door with a misplaced key. Corbin had been there, and he’d been shouting something about a crown, and his hand was clasped around that metal lump he wore on a chain, then I’d fallen into the darkness. There were other details, but when I grasped at them, they faded away. I rubbed my eyes, but that did nothing to halt the weariness spreading up my spine. “I’m fine. I’m staying right here.”

“You’ll do no good for him sapping your strength like this. He’ll wake up when he’s good and ready.”

Arthur’s lifeless face stared up at the ceiling. I’d never seen him so still for so long. Arthur was a fireball of energy and passion. Now even his beard looked as though it was made of stone – a statue of a Viking warrior at peace with his gods.

No, I raged against the notion. He’s not at peace. Inside that thick skull of his, he’s fighting for us, for me. I had to believe that. I grabbed his good arm – the one he hadn’t mutilated – and shook it. “Arthur, you bastard. Wake up.”

“Sssssh, honey bee.” Aline placed her hand over mine and drew me away. A warm, calming feeling shot up my arm. I glared at her. Don’t use magic on me. I need to feel this. I need to feel all of it. It’s the only way I’ll be strong enough.

Hatred isn’t strength, Aline answered inside my head, but the warm feeling disappeared.

“Maeve, you’ve been here long enough. Why don’t you call Rowan or Blake? They can sit with Arthur for a while.” I started at the sound of Clara’s voice. I’d forgotten she was there as well. “Someone will be here when he wakes up.”

“Robert is waking up,” Smithers cooed. “Robert is greeting the birds.”

Aline hushed him.

I picked up Arthur’s hand. My stomach clenched as his limp fingers slid through mine and flopped back on the sheet. “Rowan and Blake aren’t talking to me. We had a fight.”

“What about?”

“They inserted themselves into my dream last night so they could talk to Corbin.” A shudder of disgust wracked my body. The betrayal of it still smarted.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” Aline said gently. “Did you see Corbin in your dreams again?”

“Of course I did. I’ll never stop thinking about him or wishing he was with us. But they think Corbin is speaking to me through my dreams. They think he deliberately got himself stuck in the underworld and we can bring him back,” I whipped up my head to narrow my eyes at her. “And don’t say you believe them.”

“My question is, why are you so determined not to believe them?”

“Because it’s impossible. Dreams have no precognitive powers, and they’re not microphones into other dimensions—”

Aline held up her hand. “Ah, I believe I’ve heard this lecture before. As I recall, scientists know very little about the true nature of dreams, so I think one theory is just as relevant as the others.”

“You’d be wrong,” I snapped.

Aline ignored my rude comment. “Very well. Then if what you say about dreams is true, and they are your subconscious mind interpreting signals from your brain to process important information, then Corbin’s appearance might be your subconscious alerting you to facts or discoveries your waking mind hasn’t put together yet. Did Corbin speak to you in this dream? Maybe he told you something strange or coincidental?”

I frowned. Aline was right. My brain was such a pile of mush right now, I wasn’t thinking as clearly or logically as I usually did. My brain might be using my dreams to sort through all this confusing magic stuff and create some kind of logical framework. I thought back to Corbin’s words in my dreams. “He said he died to stop the villagers from killing us, and also because he figured out that any agreement we made with the fae would be useless unless it included the demons, too.”

Clara’s eyes danced. “He’s bright, that lad. None of us even thought about the demons.”

“It’s not Corbin! It’s just my subconscious. But yes, I guess that makes sense. Daigh dragged the demons into this so if we strike a deal with Liah after we defeat the Slaugh we’ll have to include them, too.” I didn’t bother telling them about Corbin trying to speak to the demon ruler, because that was obviously my dreamstate inventing details.

“Did he say anything else?” Aline leaned forward.

“He said that that Daigh traded his powers with the king of the demons, which we already guessed. And that Daigh’s planning something that will be disastrous for humans and fae alike.” I wiped one of my fallen tears off Arthur’s cheek, hating the way my fingers pressed into his waxy skin. “It’s all so stupid. Daigh’s locked away in Raynard Hall. He has no powers. He’s not a threat anymore. Oh, and Corbin also said he’d done this in secret on purpose because I never would have let him try it if I’d known, but that he had a way to get himself back to the land of the living. It’s just wistful thinking by my subconscious.”

He also kissed Rowan. That kiss ached in my heart because I wished it had been real, and that I could feel Corbin’s warm lips on mine one last time.

“What did he – I mean, your subconscious mind – say about coming back?” Clara leaned against the door, tightening her black shawl around her shoulders.

“He said, ‘I wrote it all down for you,’ and Rowan found some Post-it notes on one of his spellbooks. I think it was the one you brought from the Soho coven. It was something about the Mysteries of Lazarus.” I waved my hand. “I didn’t look at the notes. Corbin wrote a lot of Post-its. They were stuck all over his books. It doesn’t mean he had a plan. That’s why I fought with Rowan, and Blake stepped in on Rowan’s side which is fucking ridiculous. I don’t know where they are now, and I…”

Weariness swept over me, and I found myself unable to recall the words I wanted to use. I sagged against the bed, watching Arthur’s lifeless features and begging the warrior inside to wake up and fight again for me.

“Maybe all you need to bring Corbin back is to believe,” Aline cooed.

“Belief is nonsense,” I murmured as sleep overcame me. “It’s an opiate for the masses without scientific justification…”

Aline’s hand rubbed circles on my back. Clara and Aline talked together, but their words blurred into a dull roar. I leaned my head against Arthur’s chest, timing my own breath with the steady rise and fall of his chest as the machines kept air circulating through his body.

Arthur, if you’re still in there, come back to me. We need you.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I drifted into sleep.

I stood in the dark hallway again, listening to the piercing screams from behind the doors. Corbin faced me, his hands in his pockets, a sad expression in his kind eyes. That weird lump of ancient metal still hung from a chain around his neck, and the handle of the bone knife bobbed in his side.

“I don’t know how to convince you I’m real,” he said, his voice resigned.

“Come back to me,” I shot back. “Appear in the hospital as flesh and blood. That’s the only way.”

“I can’t. You’re going to have to bring me back, Maeve. And the only way to do that is to believe.”

“That’s the hokiest thing you’ve ever said,” I folded my arms. “You sound like my mother, who I was just talking to before I fell asleep, so that explains why you’re parroting her. You’re not even a very convincing illusion.”

Corbin shrugged. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe I’ve found someone else you’ll trust.”

He swung his hands around, trailing the dust from the ends of his fingers so it formed strange shapes, almost like runes in the air. I gasped as the dust settled in the air, floating still and forming a faint outline of a body. A body with impossibly broad shoulders and a big, bushy Viking beard.

Arthur.

My mouth dried up. My heart shriveled into a raisin as the grief hit me in a wave. It rocked through my body, shattering the thin veneer of control I’d managed to exert over my emotions. I gasped as pain tightened my chest. Don’t let me lose him, too.

“He can’t speak,” Corbin said, placing a hand on Arthur’s dusty shoulder. Arthur inclined his head toward Corbin’s hand, as if agreeing with him. “He’s halfway between this world and yours. I nearly had a heart attack when I found him. What’s going on up there, Maeve? Why does Arthur have one foot in his grave?”

As if answering Corbin’s question, Arthur raised his arm. Even though he was only dust and air, I could make out a long dent in his skin where he’d cut himself. Corbin sucked in his breath when he saw it.

“Shite,” he said.

Arthur nodded.

“You’re an idiot.”

Arthur nodded again.

“Okay.” Corbin touched the knife in his abdomen. “This makes what happens next even more important. Maeve, I know you think I’m just a dream. That’s fine. But dreams tell us things about ourselves, sometimes even about things we don’t think we understand but actually do, deep inside. I think deep down you know I’m real in some way, otherwise you wouldn’t keep coming back here. I need to you stop resisting me. Stop thinking of me as Corbin if that will help, and start listening to yourself. Can you do that?”

I nodded.

Corbin’s shoulders sagged as he let out a breath. “Okay, then. Our first order of business. Allow me to introduce the person who’s going to help us stop Daigh.”

A figure stepped out of the swirling dust, dragging an injured leg. Green clothing hung in tatters from her body, and one arm ended in a stump.

Liah.

“What’s she doing here?” I hissed.

“Greetings to you, too, witch,” Liah hissed back.

“I saved her,” Corbin said. “Daigh had her tied up in one of the torture chambers. He didn’t want the fae to run to her in case they found out about his little bargain. She wants to help us.”

I folded my arms. “Nope. This isn’t going to work, because subconscious me is an idiot. Liah is against us. She always was. That’s why she tried to kill me in the church and that’s why she was the one compelling the villagers to attack the castle. Blake felt her mind as she did that evil.”

“He did,” Liah said. “Because Daigh forced me to do it. Didn’t you wonder why I wasn’t on the field of battle, gloating over my victory? I was here, tied up, being poked by demons until I bent my mind to Daigh’s will. You’ll learn soon enough that even without his power he is no enemy to be trifled with.”

I threw up my hands. “Fine. I give up!” I jabbed a finger at them each in turn. “You’re Corbin, back from the dead to talk to me. Arthur’s a weird dust ghost. Liah’s a totally kind and trustworthy fae who’s really on our side and never tried to kill me. What’s all this in aid of? What do you want?”

“Daigh’s going to try and take his power back,” Corbin said. “He’ll escape from his prison. He’ll wait until the Slaugh ride, and then he’ll make his move—”

BANG BANG.

A loud rapping noise echoed through the tunnel. The floor shook beneath my feet. Dust toppled from the ceiling high above, pouring over my body and sending me crashing to the ground. My knees hit the hard stone floor and pain shot up my spine.

BANG BANG BANG.

The floor jerked again. Corbin looked up at the roof, just as another shower of dust rained down on his head. “Looks like you’ve got a wake-up call.”

“Corbin, wait—”

“Remember, Maeve, the clay steals the clay!” Corbin shouted at me as his body faded into the darkness.

I reached out to grab him, but he retreated into the shadows as more dust toppled from the roof. My body pitched forward, and the dust swallowed me.