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“That’s one of the reasons we need illusionists on Soma,” Maxwell says, taking on a professorial tone that reminds me of Dylan. “Soma founders expected people to go crazy from staring at the weird sky. Illusionists can make it all look normal.”

As if to illustrate the point, Valerian uses his powers to unfold the environment around us, making the sky look all-encompassing, as usual. The houses that were in the sky show up as distant structures on the horizon.

“Don’t.” I touch his elbow. “I’m not stir crazy yet.”

The surreal reality comes back.

I gape at everything until we walk into a cuboid structure, where the guard leads us into what looks like a cafeteria. There are shiny metal tables and chairs all around, but only one of them is occupied.

It’s an older woman with white curly hair, and I recognize her immediately.

It’s Bailey, my grandmother.

Chapter Sixteen

Dropping something that looks like a toothpaste tube onto a silvery tray, my grandmother leaps to her feet and rushes over to Mom’s bed. Lips trembling, she stares down for a long minute as I watch her, my chest heavy.

Somberly, my father opens the clamshell-like top of the contraption, and my grandmother bends over her daughter and kisses her gently on the forehead.

I can’t even imagine what she must be feeling.

When she looks up at my father, her eyes are swimming with tears. “It’s as you said. Not even a hint of sleep. My poor Lia.”

Lia? I’ve never heard anyone call Mom that. I like it, though.

Blinking a few times, my grandmother straightens her spine and turns to the guard. “Please take Lia’s bed to the medical bay.”

The guard glances at us uneasily. “They haven’t been cleared.”

“Leave me the gun then,” she snaps.

The guard walks over and hands her the gun, which she accepts with obvious distaste.

My father gives the guard the remote for Mom’s bed and explains how to use it. Reluctantly, the guard makes Mom’s bed roll out and follows behind it.

My grandmother stares after them with visible longing. When the guard is completely out of sight, she composes herself and turns to Valerian. “You’ve grown to be a fine young man,” she says, her voice softening to a kind, motherly tone. “Can you be a dear and make sure no one can overhear us?”

Looking a little taken aback, Valerian nods and presumably does as she asks, while my grandmother turns her razor-sharp gaze on me.

“Come, child. Let me take a look at you.”

I take a reluctant step in her direction.

Will she hug me or shoot me with that gun?

Her gray eyes—identical to mine—moisten again as they scan me from head to foot. “You’re so much like your sister,” she says softly. “Yet so unlike her at the same time.”

“You have some of Mom’s features,” I say with a shy smile. “And mine.”

Laugh lines appear at the corners of her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not the two of you who have my features, little bee?”

Was that my nickname? If so, I don’t remember it at all.

“Where’s Asha?” Maxwell asks.

“All in good time,” my grandmother says, her face smoothing out. “You’ll have to forgive me for the security measures. We’ve had the Overtaken try to sneak into the gate.” Her hand tightens on the gun.

Valerian’s expression darkens. “Overtaken here, on Soma?”

“I’m afraid so. And not just from the Otherlands either. Some Soma citizens have been succumbing. That’s why the guards now walk around armed at all times.”

“But how?” I ask. “Is anyone dumb enough to listen to other people’s description of nightmares?”

She shakes her head. “Phobetor’s power has now grown to the point where he can work his vileness through a regular nightmare, especially if the sleeper’s guard happens to be down.”

“Call him Collywobbles,” Valerian says, and explains why.

“That’s like trying to stop an ocean with a dam, but I’ll do as you ask,” she says. “Now, please, let’s get the unpleasantness taken care of. Lie down.” She gestures at the nearby benches.

Valerian pulls out a hygieia device and waves it over a bench for me.

I lie down, and he does the same.

My grandmother points a hand at Valerian and his body slumps. She does the same to my father next.

I feel them both in REM sleep and realize how the clearing works. If we’ve been Overtaken, dreamwalking in us will reveal it.

She points a hand at me, and I instantly fall asleep.

Valerian and I are in his bed, making out. Suddenly, he disappears and I find myself clothed and standing in a cafeteria-like room.

My wrist is lacking Pom. This, combined with the sight of prone Maxwell and Valerian, informs me of two things: I’m asleep, and my grandmother is dreamwalking in me at the moment.

Probably.

“Where are you?” I ask, looking around.

With a satisfied chuckle, she drops her invisibility. Here, in the dream world, she looks to be about my age, and our resemblance is even more noticeable.

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