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She shook her head, not understanding. “I have to sit, my leg’s aching.”

He helped her to the chair by the bed. “When was the last time you were in the Ephemeros?”

“A few hours ago.”

Henry looked grim. “Did you see Ben?”

“No, Spider. But I didn’t see you, either. Look, what’s going on?” Tovah pulled his hand until he sat on the bed facing her. “Where have you been?”

“Was it bad, there? Like before?”

She looked at him. “It was bad. But not like before. But, Spider…”

“Henry. I’m Henry, here.”

“Henry,” she said. “I think I know what’s causing the trouble there.”

“The boy. The dog. The woman. I know.” Henry squeezed her hands.

Tovah told him about Edward, the man who’d been her lover and all the forms he’d taken. Of what had happened on the beach with Ben. She left out the part about the kiss, mentioned only that she’d intended to break it off with Edward completely and that he hadn’t taken it well.

“Oh, God,” she said, stunned as the memory of Kevin on his knees came back.

She fumbled in the pocket of her jacket for her cell phone. She dropped it onto the hard tile floor and it slid beneath the bed like it meant to escape. Henry grabbed it for her, handing it over while his face creased with concern.

“Tovahleh, what is it?”

She couldn’t speak through the emotion burning her throat. She dialed by memory, praying her trembling hands didn’t hit the wrong keys. She swallowed, again and again as the phone rang and rang.

“Kevin,” she managed at last, looking into Henry’s eyes. “I think he did something to Kevin.”

A shriek from outside Henry’s door made her drop the still-ringing phone. The screen flickered this time and went dark, and Tovah let out a string of curses when she saw the case had cracked open. The call had disconnected.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now.” Henry put his hand over hers. She looked up at him, his face blurred by her tears. Henry took a tissue from the nightstand and wiped her cheeks. He leaned forward to take her face in his hands. “We have other things we need to do now.”

There was beauty in chaos, and chaos in beauty, and all of it rotated in and around and among them, and the witchwoman laughed her terrible, beautiful laugh.

The dogman growled, snapping and chasing.

The boy stood on the mountain with black sand beneath his feet and black sky above his head and the wind screaming all around him. For the first time that he could ever remember, he let the wind whip at his hair and clothes without trying to run from it. Not even the witchwoman’s laughter or the dogman, now pacing on all fours, were enough to make him flee.

“I told you, sweetheart, didn’t I? How lovely it all was?” The witchwoman laughed, twirling in a circle with her arms spread wide. Her dark hair blew straight out, each strand painted with silver lightning as it flashed.

The boy ignored her. He wasn’t doing this for her, not because of her, not even in spite of her. He was doing this, for the first time, for himself.

The world shimmered and shuddered around them, and he heard screams. The boy knew how it felt to scream so hard your throat burst; he’d done it once or twice. He knew the taste of blood and how it made you want to vomit. He knew about cowering before shadows, too, and some small part of him wished he could soothe all of the screamers. He wanted to tell them that all they had to do was reach inside themselves and pull out all that fear and fury, that they could do what he did, that they had no reason to quake and break.

Perhaps later he could make them understand. Show them the truth, that they dreamed this because they needed to, for reasons he could never know.

The darkness parted and the man who never looked the same came through it. He had a long and easy stride, long arms moving naturally at his sides as he walked. The wind plucked at his clothes like a nervous mother, but he ignored it the same way he paid no attention to the woman, who reached her hands to him, or the dogman that snapped its jaws.

The man knelt in front of the boy and took small hands inside his large ones. “They’re coming for you.”

“What can we do?” Tovah didn’t bother reaching for her wounded phone. Her gaze searched Henry’s. She trusted him.

In the corridor, more feet pounded. More things crashed. Henry looked up, overhead, as the lights flickered. A far-off boom of thunder turned his gaze back to hers.

“They’re all having nightmares. They look like they’re awake, but they’re not, really.”

“And other people?”

“Not everyone who’s crazy is in the hospital.” Henry’s wry grin tipped his mouth. “Tonight, I think the world is crazy.”

“But…what can we do?” she asked again. “Henry, eventually, the people who are sleeping will wake up.”

“And the ones who are awake are going to sleep.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know, really, okay? I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just know we have to stop them.”

“But…” She shook her head, her mind weary and body aching. “None of this makes sense.”

“What, everything should make sense?” Henry squeezed her hands. “You know I’m right. You can feel it, can’t you?”

It took her only a second to nod. “Yes.”

“We have to guide them, Tovahleh. The three. Guide them back together.”

She sighed, squeezing back. “Can we do it?”

Henry nodded. “I hope so.”

The man had many faces and had been called many names, but Edward was the name he said to the boy.

“They want to hurt you. Stop you. Hurt you,” chanted the witchwoman.

Edward looked at her. The boy’s hands felt impossibly small within Edward’s much larger ones. A world of responsibility rested in those hands, both pairs.

“They want to stop you,” Edward said. “But not hurt you. I want you to listen to me—”

“Don’t listen!” The witchwoman flew forward, her face twisted. “Don’t you listen to him, sweetheart!”

Edward struck her hard enough to crunch the bones of her face under his fist. She crumpled to her knees, her face in her hands. She made no sound. He turned back to the boy, whose nose was bleeding.

“People are screaming,” the boy said. “All around the world. Babies are crying…” It was too much. He clapped his hands over his ears.

Edward took them gently away. “Listen to me.”

“No! No! They’re screaming!” The boy shook his head, back and forth. “And I like it! I like it! I like it! Let them be afraid instead of me!”

Edward did what nobody had done in a long, long time. He hugged the boy, held him close and tight. Held him safe.

The boy’s body tensed and twisted in Edward’s grasp as he fought the embrace. The witchwoman moaned from her place on the ground, and the dogman stalked closer, getting bold.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Let me help you not be afraid any more. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Too late.” The boy wept against his chest. “It’s too late! They already hurt me, both of them.”

The witchwoman rolled onto her back. The dogman lapped the blood on her face. She laughed.

“I won’t let them hurt you again,” said Edward. “Not ever. I promise.”

“How will we do it?”

Lightning flashed outside Henry’s window, and rain spattered the glass. He looked at the window for a moment. To Tovah, who loved him, Henry was beautiful, but she could see the lines of strain that would make him look haggard to anyone else. He’d aged since the last time she’d been able to talk to him in the waking world.

“I don’t know,” Henry admitted. “I’m a coward, remember?”

Tovah hugged him, hard, though it bent her body in another awkward position. “Being afraid of something dangerous doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you smart.”

His arms tightened around her, and she felt the press of his face against her hair. “Then I’m the smartest bastard I know, because I’m scared shitless.”

“What happened to you?” Tovah whispered, holding him tight.

“They kept me from getting back,” Henry said. “For the first time in a long time I wanted to come back, and they made me forget how.”

Tovah didn’t push for more. She looked into his face, echoing the position he’d held before, with his cheeks in her hands. “You’re here, now.”

Henry nodded and took her hands to link their fingers. “I’m sorry, Tovahleh. I know you wanted me to come back, before.”

Good friends don’t lie to each other. She looked him over, how frail he’d become. “I did. But you had to do what was best for you, Henry. I was just worried about you. I don’t want to live without you, that’s all. Not here, or there.”

“I told you before, doll, you’ll never get rid of me.” Henry squeezed her fingers and smiled.

She believed him, somehow, even though she knew that wasn’t really true. Tovah kissed Henry’s bristly cheek. “So. Let’s do it.”

Even as she said the words, her heart pounded harder. It was easy to sound brave sitting here with Henry’s hands in hers. Awake. In a world with rules. It was easy to play the braggart’s role and pretend she was ready to go in with guns blazing, when the truth was there was nothing she felt less capable of doing.

“You’re a good guide. Even if you don’t know it.” Henry smiled.

Tovah shook her head. “But this is big. Bigger.”

“It’s still someone who needs to get someplace—”

“For a reason we don’t know. I know. But Henry, it would help so much if we did know. If we could just…stop this boy from what he’s doing. And what if it’s not that easy or simple? What if he doesn’t want to stop?” Words tumbled from her mouth, pushed by anxiety. “What if he’s doing this on purpose, just because he can?”

“What if he is?” Henry asked gently. “Does that mean we should just let him, when we can stop him?”

“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.”

“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 he’s your friend, so you want to help him.”

“Martin.” Tovah reached for his hand to bring his attention back to her. “Yes. I need to help him. It’s important.”

She resisted the melodrama of saying “for the entire world.” That sounded too much like disaster-movie dialogue. She turned Martin’s hand over in hers, so the palm lay face up. She traced one of the long lines.

Martin’s fingers closed over hers. “Tell me what you think you need to do to help him.”

What you think you need to do.
He didn’t quite believe her. Tovah couldn’t take the time to care about that, not as long as he was willing to help her.

“I need to get to sleep.”

To give him credit, Martin didn’t immediately look as though he wanted to laugh. He looked from her to Henry, then back again. He studied their joined hands. His thumb passed over her palm. Then he let go of her hand.

“Right here? Now?” He stood.

Tovah nodded. “As soon as possible.”

Martin moved away from the bed and put his hands on his hips. He paced, slowly, paying close attention to the position of his feet on the tiles. “You want me to give you drugs.”

She had never thought he wasn’t smart. “Yes. Please.”

He laughed. Tovah had seen him smile before, had heard a chuckle once or twice, but this was something different and without humor. He looked at her over his shoulder. “How’d I guess?”

It stung, that he thought she might just be pressuring him to get her high. “I can try myself, but I need something that’s going to help me down and help me stay there.”

“Why?” he asked in a low voice that sounded like it wanted to be a shout. “Why sleep? What is going to happen?”

“I can’t tell you. Just please…trust me.”

And though she could tell he didn’t want to, Martin did anyway.

The boy looked at the figure crouched on the ground. A moment ago he’d been a broken spider, jointed legs crushed, furry abdomen oozing from a dozen wounds. Now he wore a pair of faded blue pajamas and dug his fingers into the black sand. His hands and feet were so pale as to be almost translucent, startling against the sand’s inky darkness. The boy couldn’t see his face.

Edward had put him down but held tight to his hand, almost too hard, but the boy didn’t let go. With his friend beside him, the dogman was kept at bay. The witchwoman, though she laughed and circled them, kept her distance, too. Both had taken their turns with the spider, kicking and fighting, biting, until it had become human.

“See, sweetheart, what we do for you?” The witchwoman aimed another kick toward the blue pajamas. It struck solid flesh beneath, but her target didn’t cry out. “We are your friends. We love you.”

“No,” said the boy with a shake of his head. “You don’t.”

“He doesn’t, either.” The witchwoman pointed behind the boy. “He’s only using you. You can take that to the bank.”

His mother had used to say that. Yearning so vast it was like a whirlwind whipped around the boy, and he went to his knees. He let go of his friend’s hand.

He began to cry.

He was, after all, only a boy and a small one at that, no matter what they expected him to do or be or become.

“I w-w-want to go h-home!” The words caught and stuck, hurting his throat, but the boy didn’t care. “I want my mom and dad!”

“Too bad,” said the witchwoman, “that they don’t want you.”

The boy wept, his face in his hands. After a moment he felt the touch of his friend’s hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t help. The witchwoman was right. His mommy and daddy didn’t want him. Why wouldn’t they have come for him, if that was the case? Why had they let him be taken away in the first place?

He remembered now, how it had begun. The blackness as the hood was pulled over his face, the sharp stench of the chemicals they’d used to put him to sleep. The room in the basement where they kept him. The promises, the lies.

The dog.

“You don’t have to listen to them,” whispered a thin voice, low, beneath the sound of the wind. Only the boy could hear it.

“You shut up,” cried the boy. “You want to hurt me!”

“I only want you to stop what you’re doing, son. That’s all. I want to help you.”

The boy got to his feet. “No! No, you don’t! You’re not my friend!”

“Of course he isn’t.” The witchwoman sneered and opened her arms. “Come here, sweetheart. You know I’ll take care of you.”

“No.” The hand on his shoulder kept the boy still. “She’s a liar. You know it.”

It was too much. Too many people claiming to want to help him, but none he could trust. The boy threw out his hands, pushing them away. Pushing it all away. Breaking everything around him until everyone was broken, too.