I shook my head. “Nina, there’s no way she can—”
Those fingers bit deeper into my arm. “She is, Adrian! Join me, and you’ll see.”
I thought carefully before responding. Nina was right about me being the best spirit dreamer (that we knew of), and I’d never seen any sign of a non–spirit user being able to take control of a dream. Nina clearly believed that was the case and that it was preventing her from making contact with Olive. I didn’t dare say it, but I wondered if Nina had been using so much spirit lately that her control was faltering. That would explain why she was having difficulty forging a dream connection, and in her addled state, she’d come up with the idea that Olive was interfering.
Yes, but what has she been using so much spirit on? asked Aunt Tatiana.
It was a good question. Looking over Nina and her state of disarray, I found myself at a loss. Even if she tried to form a spirit dream connection with Olive every day, there was no way that alone could’ve driven Nina to this state. What else was she using magic on? Or was her mental deterioration being accelerated by something more than the magic? Was it a culmination of that and personal stress—like Olive’s disappearance and my rejection?
“Adrian?” asked Neil tentatively. “Isn’t there any way you’d consider helping?”
Not knowing my thoughts, he believed my hesitation was over a refusal to offer assistance. The truth was, I just didn’t know how. And honestly, Nina needed a lot more than help with a spirit dream. She needed help with her life.
“Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll help you connect to her in a dream—but only if you get some sleep.”
Immediately, Nina began shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m too excited. I have to keep looking. I have to—”
“You will get some sleep,” I ordered. “I’m getting Sonya here, and she’s going to bring you a sedative. You will take it. And you will sleep.”
“Later I will. Right now, we need to reach Olive. She’s on a human schedule. She’ll go to bed soon, and I can’t be asleep. We’ll reach her first and—”
“No. No deal.” I made my voice as firm and harsh as I could. “If she’s waited this long, she’ll keep waiting. Sleep first. For God’s sake, Nina! Look at yourself. You’re—”
“What? What?” she demanded, that earlier feverish look returning. “A mess? Ugly? Not good enough for you?”
“Exhausted.” I sighed. “Now, please. Let me call Sonya. You’ll sleep today, and we’ll look for Olive tomorrow. If you’re rested, you’ll be better able to, uh, fight her control.” I still didn’t buy that, but Nina did, and she finally conceded.
“Okay,” she said. “You can call Sonya.”
I did, and Sonya was relieved to hear I’d made progress, small though it was. She promised to come over with something to help Nina sleep, and I promised to hang around until then. When I disconnected, Nina returned to her shredding and began humming what sounded like “Sweet Caroline.”
“It’s really nice of you to help her,” Neil murmured, coming to stand beside me across the room. “Sleep will do her good. And for my own selfish reasons . . . well, I admit I’m eager for you to have contact with Olive too. Not that that’s your primary reason for doing this.”
“Hey, it’s a good enough reason. They all are.” I tried to keep my voice light, not letting on just how bothered I was by Nina’s state. Because if I had to be honest, I wasn’t doing this just for Neil, Sonya, or Nina. Watching Nina as she sat there humming, so clearly out of her mind . . . well, the truth was, it wasn’t that hard to imagine myself in that state someday. And if it came to that, I hoped desperately that someone would help me too.
Chapter 4
I DON’T RECOMMEND TURNING INTO A CAT.
The actual experience of being a cat isn’t too bad. But coming out of it? Awful. I felt as though I were being torn in two. My bones and skin stretched and twisted in ways that nature had never intended, and when it was all over, I felt beaten and bruised—like the time I’d fallen down a full flight of stairs as a child. A vaguely nauseous feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and for a panicked moment, I thought I would throw up. Forced vomiting had been one of many punishments the Alchemists had inflicted on me while I was in their captivity, and the very idea of it triggered a flood of unwelcome memories. Fortunately, the sensation soon passed, and I felt more or less like my former self.
“There’s a great place to get coffee about twenty miles from here,” Ms. Terwilliger said once I was settled and had my seat belt on. “We’ll stop there and get some gas before pushing on to Pittsburgh.”
I nodded, finished a text to Adrian, and stretched my legs, still coming to terms with the return to my old body. Beside me in the seat sat the wooden box Ms. Terwilliger had brought, and I picked it up for a closer look. Free of its sealing enchantment, there was nothing extraordinary about it now. In the month since Jill’s disappearance, there’d been a lot of speculation about who would’ve taken her. Almost always, we’d laid the blame on some Moroi dissident who didn’t support Lissa. Yet, this clearly showed evidence of human magic, which kind of turned everything we’d believed upside down. Aside from me, we knew of no magic-using humans working with Moroi.
I could only hope this museum offered some answers, as unlikely as it seemed. Inside the box, the words on that flyer glared up at me: COME PLAY, SYDNEY.
Once we had our coffee, the drive passed uneventfully, with our only slowdown being summertime construction scattered along the highway. Honestly, it would have been a pleasant road trip, if not for the fact we were all still keyed up with worry and tension. I was worried Adrian might do something reckless back at Court. And, of course, I was worried about Jill. Eddie clearly was too, and rather than make him feel better, this new lead had only increased his agitation. He barely said two words to us the whole drive. We still made good time overall, rolling up to the Pittsburgh Robot Museum in late afternoon. A hand-painted sign declared that it was “world famous,” but none of us had ever heard of it. Judging from the empty parking lot, not many people had.
“We’re usually busier on weekends,” explained the attendant at the admission window. We bought three tickets and stepped inside.
“Please come in, please come in,” boomed a robot standing near the entrance. It didn’t move and had been patched with duct tape in a number of places. In its arms, it held a long, rectangular welcome sign.