“As long as this scroll is in your belt, yes,” Crixus says as he holds it up.

“And as long as you have permission to leave,” Luc adds, ensuring I remember who’s really in power here.

“There’s also Tenebra clothing for you in the taberna.” At my raised eyebrow, he elaborates. “The clothing stall in the Macella Quarter.” Crixus holds out the scroll. “Just show the shopkeeper your papers. They should be your size.”

“I don’t want to dress like some Roman actor,” I say. “My noxior costume is ridiculous enough.”

“And I don’t like to pay taxes, but that’s part of life.”

Taxes? Those things followed us into Tenebra? I take the scroll, tucking it into my pocket.

Luc pulls a leather portfolio from a cabinet and tosses it on the table. Then he sinks onto the couch as though his recent actions taxed him. Again, he seems weaker. It makes me think of Mom. And that’s when I connect it.

His body above must be sick. That happens, even to people in LifeSuPods. They catch colds or the flu or have an asthma attack, and it still gets to them here in Tenebra.

He gestures to the portfolio. “Study these.” Inside are ancient, crinkled, stained papers, but when I spread them out, the contents are quite modern. Floor plans, security details, and road maps of New York. Why bother having the facade of old parchment?

“My father’s in a high-rise here.” He taps at a space on the map. It’s not too far from Somnus University, actually. “Where are you and your truck located, Cain?”

“I’m on the road.” I think that’s right. Or am I still at the university?

He leafs through the papers and tosses another one in front of me—a map of my city. He points to a spot on the edge of it.

“If you can make it to this warehouse, there should be fuel inside. As long as it hasn’t been compromised.”

I stare at the map, but my brain doesn’t comprehend much. Something tells me this should be familiar, but it’s like trying to recall details of something that only played in the background.

“Focus, Cain!”

“I’m trying,” I growl.

University. Warehouse. High-rise. I try to set the routes and locations to memory. He’s offering me a fuel-up, but how do I know if his sources are safe? The best way to conserve gas is to ditch The Fire Swamp altogether, but it’s the last bit of home I have left with Mom and Nole gone.

I grab the papers and move to put them in my pocket before I realize I won’t be able to take them with me.

Luc walks me through potential routes. “Once you get to my father’s LifeSuPod, you’ll find the new address inside my father’s suit-breast pocket, tucked inside his handkerchief.”

“Your dad’s wearing a suit in a LifeSuPod?”

Luc waves a hand. “Why not sleep in style?”

Okay, whatever. Weird.

“The new location shouldn’t be more than a quarter hour from the high-rise, so plan accordingly.”

In other words I need to find Galilei immediately so I have enough time to complete this job. “And that secret address is where I’ll find my LifeSuPod?”

“Precisely.” He eyes me shrewdly. “Don’t think you can double-cross me, Cain.”

“I won’t.” What does he think I’m going to do? Leave Galilei to die and claim the LifeSuPod for myself? That’d leave us all without any hope.

“Sir.” Crixus steps forward.

Luc shifts his eyes over to Crixus. “What?”

“I see a lot of potential for failure. Cain could get robbed, he might run out of gas, the warehouse may not have fuel . . . shouldn’t there be a backup plan? I still wonder if fixing the power to the high-rise is a better option.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Crixus.” Luc levels his centurion with a glare. “What was my response the first time?”

“I thought perhaps you’d reconsider.”

Luc waves his hand again. “Go train the new noxiors.”

“Sir.” Crixus bows in submission and leaves the room. Poor guy, only trying to help.

“What do you think, Cain? Want to try to restore power to the high-rise?”

“It’s a good idea, less complicated. But I don’t have that skill set. That would have been my brother, Nole. And I couldn’t guarantee that any power grid patchwork would hold. The Spores could just cut it again.”

“Precisely.” Luc gestures back to the parchments. “This new location is safe only because it’s unknown. Out in the middle of nowhere. Off-grid. Solar and wind powered.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And you’re trusting me with the details?”

“Trust is an interesting word when desperation is involved.” He locks the parchments back into the cabinet. “But you’ll keep its location to yourself because that’s where your physical self is going to be as well. Whoever you tell would become someone who would know where and how to kill you.”

“Clear enough.” We sit across from each other in silence for several minutes. We aren’t friends and we certainly aren’t going to be. This feels more like a dangerous business partnership where we both know exactly what we have to lose and what we have to gain. Once I complete this job for Luc and am either cured or in my own LifeSuPod, our interactions will be over.

I need to start building a life for myself in the Nightmare. In Tenebra. At least until I can track down another Spore and figure out how they control the Nightmare and the how and why of their ability to reenter the Real World. Until then, I might as well start using Luc’s terms and playing his game.

“So what do I do while I’m in Tenebra? Buy some land? Build a house?” Already I miss my truck and tiny house. Whatever I build here will likely be carefully controlled since the dreamscape is only so big. I doubt they’ll let me build anything on wheels.

“You don’t build. Not with your talent.”

“Talent?”

“With nightmist . . . you create.” He gestures to my kris dagger.

“So far I’ve made wings that disappear after a few seconds, a half-constructed spear, a dagger, and a chain rope. You think nightmist can make a house?”

Luc spreads his arms. “How do you think this coliseum was built?”

I look at the stone and only now realize what my mind has been neglecting. Nothing in Tenebra is actually tangible except in our minds. The foundation had been laid by the Draftsman who created the original virus, yet Luc figured out the loopholes of this ever-growing and ever-spreading virus. Nightmist and nightbeasts are all new. All created by the mind.

If he was able to figure out how to create when he’s not the Draftsman, then I can too. “If this coliseum was made by someone’s mind, what happens if that person dies?” If I build my own house, will it disappear if I get killed?

“It depends on their roots.” Luc lifts his boot, and thick roots retract from the floor of the room into his boot like snakes. “The more you ground yourself in Tenebra, the more permanent your creations are.”

I’m tempted to lift my own foot to see if I have any roots, but I’m not sure I want to know. I don’t want tentacles attaching my body to this place.