Desert heat, and a call for a doctor; Dantalion could follow human logic to some degree, even in dreams. A whirlwind of sand started at Dantalion's feet and ruffled their clothes; when it settled, he was clad in the long dark coat of a modern London physician.
"My dear," he said sympathetically, taking Sadie's face in his hands and drawing his thumbs gently over her eyes; when he finished and she could open them again, they stood in a neat private office. "Are you quite well?"
A fever was one of the signs of possession; Merritt was already succumbing regularly. Dantalion took his hands from Sadie's cheeks, resting one comfortingly on her shoulder; the other conjured a glass of water from the air and offered it for her to take.