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settled upon the ground, Waschbär nestled deep into the folds of his furry overcoat and gestured to the ferrets, who came at a run and dove into his pockets. “No more proper bed than a soft cushion of earth and the night sky for a coverlet.”
    Running, Bertie called out, “Good night, everyone!” She feared the fairies would give chase, but a glance revealed they were already constructing impromptu nests of twigs and brambles, as though setting a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream . There was no time to stop and appreciate the pretty picture they made as she climbed the diminutive back stairs. Inside, Nate wavered in the center of overturned boxes and cabinet doors hanging ajar. Far worse than the mess, he’d gone as fuzzy as a spotlight diffusing across a stage.
    How can he look paler than a ghost?!
    “Bertie?” came the soft query behind her.
    Though she didn’t want to, she turned around in the doorway to see Ariel standing just below her, a Romeo of reduced circumstances now that they were without the necessary balcony.
    “Would you like to me come inside?”
    “Whatever for?” Before Ariel could explain, the answer slammed into her chest. “Oh. No. No, thank you.”
    “Are you certain?” When the air elemental placed one foot on the staircase, the caravan began to vibrate.
    Standing just behind her, Nate strained to close the door. The journal’s sparks had burned tiny holes in his shirt, his hands, his cheeks, and bits of light gobbled yet more greedily as he expended what energy he had left.
    Bertie hastened inside, not wanting him to wink out like a candle. “I am. But … er … thank you for the offer.”
    “Good night, then—” Ariel managed to say before Nate succeeded in slamming the door shut in his face.

CHAPTER FOUR
Darkness Like a Dream
    W hile I don’ like th’ idea o’ him sniffin’ about ye,” Nate said, his voice crawling out of a dark so blue that it could only be found at the bottom of the sea, “I hope fer both yer sakes all he’s done is sniff.”
    “Never mind that.” Entangled in unseen debris, Bertie lost her shoes as she tripped over what felt like a table leg, a jumbled pile of bedding, and an open drawer. She fumbled her way along one wall, locating the wooden bracket that contained a tiny glass oil lamp and a box of matches. Once she’d banished the shadows, the interior of the caravan reminded her of a doll’s house that had been upended and rattled about. The sleeping berth tucked along one wall had belched half its bedding upon the floor, the pocket-size breakfast nook was a jumble of embroidered place mats and crockery, but she gave the amenities only a perfunctory glance. Setting the journal and pen in the center of the table, she turned to address a more important issue. “You’re fading.”
    Nate leaned against the cabinetry, though he wasn’t solid enough to rest any weight against it. His poltergeist act had apparently drained him of yet more strength, causing his features to waver then resettle upon his spectral bones. “I’m not long fer this place, I fear.”
    Bertie would have traded any number of things to be able to reach out and take his hand. “Your soul isn’t meant to be separated from your body. I’ll have to write you back.”
    “T’ Sedna’s cave?” Nate surged forward and attempted to grab the journal, though his hands merely stirred the cover. “Like hell ye will!”
    “I have to! Do you want to die here?”
    He hesitated before admitting, “I’m already dead, lass.”
    Everything went hazy around the edges, and the floor tilted up to meet her. When Bertie sat down hard upon the crooked mattress, she cracked the back of her head against the wood that framed the sleeping berth. “What do you mean?”
    “Sedna drown’d me, don’t ye remember?”
    Instantly Bertie was transported back to the theater. Hanging from the chandelier, she saw him sucked under by the saltwater currents. She remembered holding her own breath