The sound of knocking wakes me from a deep sleep. In the interminable space between waking and sleep the knocking is just the thrum of my heart against my ribs. It takes a little too long for me to realize that it’s someone at the door.

I don’t have the energy to get up. I’ve been drinking the tea Ezra gave me for three days now. I expected to feel a little out of it, but the effects have been so much worse than I had prepared for. I’m struggling to think clearly and ...