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the lab tomorrow morning and take it from there.” She raised one eyebrow. “In other words, yes, you two have some free time.”
    This was less of a treat than they seemed to think. Making out in my room isn’t as much fun when I have to wonder if my parents can hear, or worse, if they’re cheering us on. I used to be considerate and listen to my music on headphones. These days, I turn the speakers up to eleven.
    Paul stood there awkwardly; he still hasn’t figured out how to navigate the path between “respect for his mentors” and “desire for their daughter.” So I did the talking. “Okay, we’ll just—”
    That’s when we heard a thump on the deck.
    â€œTheo?” I let go of Paul to walk toward the sliding door, but Dad got there first. He pulled it open, startled, and swore as he rushed outside. I hurried after him, then stopped short, frozen in horror.
    Theo lay sprawled out on the deck. His laptop restedwhere it had fallen a few feet away, and the light from the screen illuminated Theo’s face—the blankness in his eyes, the slackness of his mouth.
    Oh God. Is he dead? He looks dead—
    Theo’s body shuddered, then convulsed. His limbs tensed as they started shaking so hard they hammered against the deck. I gasped. “Oh, my God. He’s having a seizure.”
    â€œCall 911,” Paul said, just behind me, and I heard Mom’s footsteps pounding as she ran for her cell phone.
    â€œWhat do we do?” Dad said as we both kneeled by Theo’s side. “Do we put something in his mouth so he won’t swallow his tongue?”
    â€œNo! Definitely don’t do that.” I’d heard that was a bad idea with seizure patients, but I didn’t know what else to do. “Just—be here with him.” Could Theo hear us? I had no idea. I only knew that my blood seemed to flush hot and run cold, back and forth, over and over again. My hands were shaking. As frightened as I was, I knew Theo had to have been so much more scared than me. So I whispered, “It’s all right. We’re going to get you to the hospital, okay? We’ve got you, Theo.”
    Dad muttered, “Has he ever mentioned—any illness, any other episodes—”
    â€œNo.” Paul looked grim.
    Could he be sick? Please just let him be sick. But we all knew Theo didn’t have epilepsy. We knew what was to blame.
    Nightthief. The drug Wyatt Conley’s spy had pumped into Theo’s body over and over again, for months—the stuffhe had told me still gave him the shakes—it had done more damage than we knew. Theo hadn’t been getting better; he’d been getting worse.
    Conley had told us he didn’t like relying on Nightthief for his dimensional travelers; we knew the drug could be harmful. But that night was the very first time I realized just how serious this might be.
    The first time I realized Theo might die.
    And the night Paul decided to do whatever it took to save him.

4
    THE WIND BLOWS THROUGH THE GLASSLESS WINDOW OF the Castel Sant’Angelo, ruffling the veil I wear over my curly hair. “You knew Paul would have to come to the Triadverse,” I say to Conley. “To look for a cure, for Theo.”
    â€œI can give you that, too. You can save them both.” He chuckles softly. “You’ll be rescuing Theo from the effects of his Triadverse self’s journey to your dimension—and rescuing Paul from the consequences of his journey into mine.”
    â€œYou deliberately . . . splintered Paul?”
    Conley just grins wider. “Guilty as charged.”
    Now I know why the reminder didn’t work. It could only have awakened Paul’s soul if—if his entire soul were within this world’s version.
    But Wyatt Conley has torn Paul’s soul apart.
    Nothing I could scream at Conley would be foul enough.There are no curses to carry the obscenity and fury in my