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they’re throwing a tantrum. His tears were streaming silently down his pink cheeks. Then I saw his ruby-red eyes, and I noticed that his tears were no longer clear. He was crying blood. It was slowly dripping from his nose, too. He held his arms out, as if he wanted to be picked up. Then Alfarin was there, holding someone back. I realized it was Mitchell. I couldn’t see Elinor, but there were another two people in the nightmare. They had a halo of light around them. One was a guy, maybe a couple of years older than I am, and he was dressed in an old brown army uniform.The other was a stunningly beautiful girl with light-brown skin and long, wavy hair as dark as coal.
    â€œJeanne, you can’t help him,” called the army boy.
    That’s when I started to scream.
    â€œMedusa!” Mitchell calls again. I feel strong hands holding my wrists. I stop fighting, not because I think I’m safe, but because I don’t have the energy to battle the nightmare anymore.
    â€œWere ye having a bad dream?” Elinor wraps her arms around me and strokes the curls away from my sweaty face. No girl in my dorm has ever done that before. I feel safe.
    â€œI saw a little boy,” I pant. “He was crying blood.”
    I drink some water from a cup. It’s Septimus who passes it to me. When did he come back?
    â€œI do not have words of comfort for you, Miss Pallister,” he says. His deep voice sounds like a double bass being plucked. “Considering the events that transpired yesterday, and unfortunately, those events that may yet come to pass, I fear the nightmares that plague your sleep may only intensify.”
    â€œHave you found him? Have you found Rory and the Dreamcatcher?” I ask.
    Septimus shakes his head. “Alas, they have not been recovered. I understand that Perfidious and the Skin-Walkers have now severed all communication with the HBI and The Devil’s office and will act of their own accord. There will be meetings all day today about the recovery of the Dreamcatcher, and in the absence of Sir Richard Baumwither, I have been asked by The Devil to chair. It is apparent, however, that Mr. Hunter has departed Hell.”
    â€œIt had nothing to do with us, Septimus,” says Mitchell quickly. “I don’t have the combination to the safe anymore, not since—”
    â€œMitchell, if I were to unlock the safe now, I have no doubt that Hell’s Viciseometer would still be sitting on the shelf,” interrupts Septimus. “No, I do not believe the Unspeakable left Hell with either our travel timepiece, or indeed the one from Up There. He wouldn’t need it. The Dreamcatcher absorbs immense powersfrom The Devil, and it won’t surprise you to learn that that includes his ability to travel to any place, to any time, at will. I believe the Unspeakable left Hell via the power of the Dreamcatcher.” He pauses, and a frustrated look crosses his face. “How the Unspeakable knew the way to wield it, though, is something I have yet to ascertain.”
    â€œIs the Dreamcatcher a weapon, Lord Septimus?” asks Alfarin.
    â€œYou are very astute, Prince Alfarin. In the wrong hands, it could certainly be used for nefarious activities.”
    â€œSeptimus, sir?” asks Elinor timidly. She’s rubbing the back of her neck again. I make a mental note to check her for eczema or some other skin condition when the boys aren’t looking. I doubt they’ve even noticed she does that.
    â€œYes, Miss Powell?”
    â€œYe said ye will be chairing the meetings today. Why? Doesn’t Sir Richard want to be involved? That’s his job, surely?”
    Septimus sighs. It is a long, sad exhale. Too long, especially for someone who doesn’t need to breathe.
    â€œI warned Sir Richard Baumwither that it would be prudent to show Perfidious more respect. To challenge a Skin-Walker in such an arrogant, foolhardy way as he did