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And he was trapped inside a cage like an untamed beast, the cheerful afternoon replaced by cloying despair and only the slightest glimmer of light. Rain dribbled through the panes of the tiny window above him, icy cold and smelling of rot, its steady drip like a metronome.

He could hear Lucy muttering beside him, a kind of fervent prayer or maybe a song, the clatter of her hands against the bars of her cage as she rocked from heel to toe.

This time, when the echoing footsteps approached, Blair turned away, resting his forehead against the cool metal at the back of his cage so he wouldn’t have to face the beautiful witch whose heart was made of twisted, slimy, rotted things.

Even with his hands clamped so tightly over his ears that his bones ached, Blair could hear the un-oiled hinge of Lucy’s door as it was pried open with magic, as she was hurled to the ground. Her screams. The rip of her skin.

Then came Lucy’s soft voice, somehow audible over the din of her own screams, as though she were speaking directly into his mind.

“Blair. Blair, look at me.”

He peeled his eyes open. Lucy knelt next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder. Outside the cage, she also lay twisted on the ground, her screams reverberating through the chamber, a dagger twisting in Blair’s gut.

“You must take care,” the Lucy in his cage said. Her red hair was still matted against her face, her gray-green eyes wide with distress, but there was resolve within her, desperation as her hand tightened around his shoulder. “Be careful who you trust. Let the past inform your present. Do not despair.” She reached for his hand, a reassuring gesture full of quiet strength. “You are braver than you know.”

“But how do you—” The blood drained from Blair’s face as the door to his enclosure swung open with a horribly familiar metallic screech.

Lucy’s parting words echoed through his mind alongside her screams, which mixed with his own as a power beyond his control ripped him from his cell and slammed him into the floor, as his own skin tore apart at the seams, as he was lost in a haze of rage and fear.

Blair woke with a start, face drenched in sweat and lips parted in a silent scream. His heart beat out an erratic rhythm against his ribs, echoing through his ears. Dimly, he was aware of scratching at his door, of a loud, high-pitched whine followed by several short barks. For a confused moment, he thought of wolves, but then his door flew open and a tiny chihuahua launched onto his bed and began to lick his face. Iris was close at the dog’s heels, her expression a mask of shock and worry. Blair hurried to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his face heating in shame as he fought to control his breathing.

“What’s going on?” Iris asked. “Are you hurt?”

Footsteps sounded from down the hall, and a moment later Gabriel was leaning in the doorway, his face calm but for the hint of concern knitting his brows.

Blair gently gripped Luna—the dog Iris was watching while her boss, Dr. Sumpter, was on vacation—and settled her on the bed, his hand stroking the fur on her back as he tried to calm the shaking in his limbs. It was incredibly embarrassing to be so affected by nightmares after all this time.

“I’m fine. Really,” he added, because Iris appeared unconvinced. She sat on the edge of his bed, joining him in petting the dog’s silky fur. “It was just a nightmare. It’s stupid.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid.” Iris’ hand slid over his.

Gabriel cleared his throat, motioning vaguely to the kitchen. “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He spared the pair a final glance before retreating back down the dark hallway.

Iris turned to Blair. “Do you have nightmares a lot?”

He shrugged. “A few times a week.” He hesitated, wondering if he should confide in her. Lucy’s words were ringing in his ears: Be careful who you trust.

Surely that didn’t apply to Iris?

“You should get some rest.” He pulled his hand away and tucked it under the covers. Iris’ face sagged a little, and he was immediately remorseful. “I’ll tell you more about it in the morning,” he promised.

Iris nodded, standing up. She paused. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?” Moonlight cradled her face, and Blair was uneasy to see it still tense with worry.

“No. Thank you.”

“But—”

“In the morning,” Blair reminded her gently.

She backed slowly out of the room. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He twisted his hands under the covers. “Iris?” She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Thank you.”

With an uncertain smile, Iris nodded. She ushered Luna out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Blair slumped back against his pillows, suddenly wide awake. Lucy’s fervent, urgent eyes clung to his mind, making sleep implausible.

Let the past inform your present… What did that mean?