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“Reed?” she prompted. “Can you help me put it on?”
The tons of clothes were gone now. She held the chain open around her neck, waiting for me to clasp it. Swallowing my ire, I placed the book of spells aside on the bench on which I was sitting and stood up. Maybe it wasn’t my necklace at all—just one that looked like mine. One step and I teetered on my heels. When I looked down, I was wearing a pair of vinyl, high-heeled boots. They didn’t belong to me, but I’d seen them somewhere before. For some reason, the sight of them made me tense, nervous, and sad all at once.
I took another step toward Lorna. She turned to face me, as if wondering what was taking me so long, when suddenly the necklace tightened around her throat. Lorna’s eyes bulged and her lips pulled back.
“Reed!” she rasped.
“Lorna!” I took a step toward her. My ankle turned, and I grabbed a rack of sweaters for support.
“Reed! Reed, help me!” Lorna choked.
“She can’t help you.”
The voice sent a violent shudder down my spine as I tried to right my feet under me. Sabine DuLac glared at me over Lorna’s shoulder, her hands clasping the two ends of the gold chain as she pulled. Her black hair was wild and unkempt around her shoulders, and her light brown skin looked waxy, almost gray. Her once-sharp cheekbones now appeared sunken and there were angry red circles around her green eyes. She was wearing a black robe with wide sleeves, the hood pushed back from her face. I tried to take another step, but the heel broke beneath me and I hit the floor. My hip exploded with
pain. Sabine snickered as she looked down at me.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” she said.
I realized suddenly that my skirt had flipped up and my underwear was exposed to the world. Out of nowhere, dozens of faces hovered over me, laughing, and I remembered. These were Cheyenne’s boots. The ones she’d used to embarrass Sabine last fall. I turned and looked up at the spectators—Gage Coolidge, Hunter Braden, Walt Whittaker, Marc Alberro, Sawyer and Graham Hathaway, Upton Giles, Thomas Pearson—and they were all laughing. I opened my mouth to scream at them, to get them to help Lorna, but nothing came out. And they seemed not to notice anything but my humiliation.
“She has no power here,” Sabine said, her French accent thicker than ever. She turned her lips toward Lorna’s ear. “She never had any power.”
Lorna reached out to me with both hands, fingers stretched to their limit. Blood poured into the whites of her eyes. Her lips slowly turned blue. Sabine jerked her backward, cutting her neck with the chain. And then, finally, Lorna’s head lolled sideways. She was dead.
“No!”
I slammed my forehead into the wall and woke up, seeing stars.
“Reed! Reed, what is it? What’s wrong?
Josh pushed himself up on one hand. His chest heaved beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. I sat up, holding onto my head, biting back tears.
“It was Lorna … Sabine … Sabine choked her to death.”
“What?” Josh drew me into his arms. I gasped for breath as I rested my cheek against his chest. I could hear his heart beating and it seemed to be racing even faster than mine. “It was just a dream,” he said. “It’s okay.”
I closed my eyes and tried to believe him, but all I saw was Lorna’s sagging head. Sabine’s evil grin. Astrid being dragged through the Billings door by Cheyenne. Rose’s and Kiki’s faces that morning when they’d come to tell me the news.
“Josh.” I pulled away. “What if it wasn’t just a dream? What if—?”
“Reed.” He reached out and smoothed my hair with his palm. “Sabine is behind bars. She can’t hurt anyone.”
“Yes, and Cheyenne’s dead, but Astrid’s still missing,” I replied.
I threw the covers off my legs and got up. I couldn’t sit anymore. I had to think. I slid the locket back and forth on its chain, making a rhythmic zipping sound as I paced. “Reed, listen to what you’re saying,” Josh said, looking up at me. “What are you going to do, call the police and tell them you dreamed that Lorna was killed by a girl who’s been locked up for two months?”
“Yes! No,” I said, wringing my hands. “I don’t know.”
“Just take a deep breath,” Josh said, rising. He put his hands on my shoulders. “The Astrid thing might still be a coincidence,” he said. “This could just be a dream.”
“Stop trying to calm me down!” I blurted, turning away from him.
I shoved my hair back from my head and pressed my eyes closed, trying to get those images of Sabine and Lorna out of my head. Trying to will them away. But they wouldn’t go. If anything, the images only grew more vivid. They were stronger than most dreams. Starker. I could practically smell the new-clothing and leathery fresh scents of Sweet Nothings. Could practically feel those stupid boots pinching my feet.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it felt so real,” I said quietly.
Josh blew out a sigh. “Okay, so … what do you want to do?”
