Pita hadn’t been to the basement in—how long? Nearly three days. She leaned her head against the cool window glass, staring down into the city and trying to collect her racing thoughts. Had the dream been a plea for help? Was the cat in trouble? Pita gnawed her lip. She hadn’t even given the animal a name—she thought of it only as Aziz’s cat. But she had to know if it was all right.