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up top. The older ones are deeper, but sometimes they find ways to resurface.”

John thought of the old things, the old doors, the wooden wheels, that mammoth bone... “How do you know all this?”

“Someone explained it to me, a very long time ago. I remember seeing you. That was a long time ago, too. For me, anyway.”

She seemed to be choosing her words with extreme care. “I knew you—it was like everything had already happened and I was seeing

you again—but it was also true that we hadn’t met yet. We saw each other at once, but also across time and space.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” she said quietly, and when she spoke again her voice trembled. “John, there is something I have to ask you.

In interviews you’re vague when it comes to whatever happened in your afterlife before you got here. The Other Side. But tell

me now, the truth. Did you really—there has to—did you learn anything? Did you see anyone? Angel types? Guides? The Masters?

God? Something?”

John shook his head.

“Not a scrap of information? No one at all?”

“I saw a Grey Man. Hardly one to pass out an instructional manual before he ousted me from my own House.”

She looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry. You came to me for answers and here I am... So what’s this about a Grey Man?”

“Like I said, I didn’t leave my House because I wanted to. It was him.” And he told her all he knew about the creature. “Do

you know of him?”

“Not particularly,” she said. “I can probably guess, though. Let me ask you something. Are you sure the Grey Man pushed you

out, or did you fall out, because you were so scared, maybe?”

“I didn’t want to go. That’s the point.”

“You don’t think you might’ve put yourself out?”

“Why the hell would I have done that?” He took a breath. “No.”

Mabel looked thoughtful. Dubious.

“It isn’t just about the House,” said John. “He’s tried to come for me here, in the living world. He wants to destroy me.

I don’t know why, but he does.” He paused. “Ruben thinks Persephone may be the one to vanquish him.”

Mabel quirked a brow.

“Then what do you propose?” John said. “So much mystery but very few answers.”

“You have not changed a bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just as impatient and ornery as ever.” She straightened. “If I’m right, I can’t stay long.”

“Don’t go,” he said, suddenly desperate. Probably in his entire life he’d never been so desperate to keep a person around.

“And you might be right about what?”

“It’s only a guess. I think your Grey Man, well, I’m not so sure he kicked you out of the House.”

“I can assure you he did.”

“But he’s still after you.”

“Because he wants to real-death me.”

She gave him another pointed look.

“Ruben’s words. The point is, he wanted me out of the House. And now he wants to take me out for good.”

“I’m not sure I’m buying it. And for that reason, I don’t think we should be in the same vicinity, you and me.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because... Listen, John. Our relationship was a complicated one. Loving. But complex. It’s not like I don’t want to help

you, but I’m not an oracle. I can’t give you answers because I don’t know them. Not the ones you really want, anyway.”

“What about my family—my parents?”

“Your parents died in a car accident when you were barely two years old.”

The sting was unexpected. After all, he couldn’t remember them. Yet it hurt, a dull, calloused injury. How much was he prepared

to know, really?

“You came to me,” she said, “to the orphanage.”

“Is the Grey House—is it the orphanage?”

“If it’s the one I’ve seen.”

“Well, where is it?”

“It’s... gone.”

John’s heart sank.

“It used to stand outside a small village in England—”

“England!”

“Rookhope. It’s gone, John.”

“Since when?”

“Ages ago.” She took a breath. “What else do you want to know?”

Too stunned to think past the House, he shook his head. The wind had picked up. John glanced back at the others. Hannah, still

on her call, was growling a response, a hand atop her head to keep her hat, the brim of which strained in the wind. “What

was I like? Tell me about us, you and me.”

“Like I said. Complicated. And the joke’s on us, because apparently it’s just too damned much to get any answers even—” Mabel

exhaled. “Anyway, we don’t have time. Look at that water.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” But he looked.

The ocean was steel-grey and turbulent, the waves moving as if deep beneath the surface something was shaking.

“Mabel, why are you here?”

Her mouth twitched and her eyes flashed with uncertainty. “To help,” she said, but he sensed that she’d come for more than

that.

“I’m not looking for a family member to catch up on heart-to-hearts. Nor do I need a friend for hire. As you can see, I’ve

got those.”

He followed her gaze as she glanced at Hannah’s deck. Persephone was speaking with Ruben, who waved his skinny arms as he

demonstrated something that looked a lot like drowning.

“They know that?” Mabel asked. “That they’re just means to your end? Friends for hire?”

“Don’t worry about them. They’re getting plenty out of the bargain.”

Mabel glared back, her mouth tight.

“I thought, however na?vely, that you were here to help me find my House.”

“Yeah? Well, neither of us is short on expectations.” She huffed. “Listen, I don’t think it matters that the physical Grey

House is gone. It’s been gone for years and you’ve been in the Grey House all this time, isn’t that right? Don’t know where

it is, but I’m inclined to believe that your personal construction of the Grey House still exists. I’m going to give you my

number. I’ll pass it to Persephone, because I doubt Ms. J?ger passed it on, and I want you to call me, but...”

“But what?”

“Whatever you decide to do now, you have to feel through it on your own, so that you actually come to the right conclusion,

whatever that is. It’s the way you want to do it, trust me.”

“I hardly know you.” It was Hannah’s voice buried in his words, and she had a point.

Mabel didn’t speak for several moments. But then: “John, when you were nine I found you tucked away in a linen closet. It

was more room than closet, but anyway, there you were, pressed against a wall. You said you were just listening. And that

you did it sometimes.”

“Listening to what?”

“Twice a month I had a child psychologist come, just to make sure everybody was OK. I thought it was important and I got some

funny looks, the general sentiment being that I was a clueless outsider, and too soft.”

“An outsider? Why?”

“The psychologist was just someone for you all to talk to. You won’t remember her. You only went once. After the first time,

it wasn’t mandatory. Anyway, you said you liked to listen in on sessions.”

He remembered the room he was drawn to in the Grey House, the one in which he’d wait, listen, never knowing what he was listening

for. “Did I say why?”

“You said it made the kids less scary. There were only three of us there. Black people. You, me, and one other child.”

Outsiders.

“You two got more than your fair share of bullying, but you got the worst because you were so deep-complected. The way those

white children went at you made me furious. I needed to look out for you extra.” She sighed. “But aside from that, I think

you felt alone and intimidated. The other minders didn’t understand. They’d send you out for fresh air and you’d be practically

hugging the house, you stood so close. They didn’t get it. I always let you stay in if you wanted. And through the window,

sometimes you’d watch them play. Sometimes, you’d even go outside. You’d take a few steps toward them and then back right

up. It’s like you wanted them to see you as much as you wanted them not to.” She stopped for a moment. “Thing is, John, we

are not outsiders. This othering that human beings tend to do, you can’t let it stick to you like some real thing. You can’t let yourself be somebody else’s

invention. Even as a ghost.”

Mabel’s gaze narrowed over the ocean. Her wispy red hair tossed violently in the wind.

“We’re definitely pushing it...” Her Southern accent had completely dropped off.

“I’ve got my bag packed at least.” Her arms were covered in goose pimples.

She knew about the Grey Man, about the Grey House and the Ocean of Memories, but her skin reacted to temperature—obviously she was part of this world. She was alive.

“Who are you, Mabel? Who are you really?”

“Just tell me you believe me when I say I want to help.”

“I believe that you believe you want to help.” But what wasn’t she saying? What could he say that might make her stay awhile

longer? “Meeting Persephone has... changed things. Since meeting her, I’ve actually had memories. And I’ve touched things.”

Mabel looked surprised.

“It’s true. I can’t make it happen, it just does. Persephone and I have a connection, but I can’t even guess what it is.”

He searched her eyes for recognition and found none. He’d finally found someone who knew him, someone who had been in the

Ocean, who knew what it was, and nothing had changed. He was no closer to getting back home than he’d been before.

“You asked me who I am. But John, I’m trying to figure that out as much as anyone. I just have more time than you do.” She

smiled wistfully. “I should go.” She began walking up the beach, but then she turned to face him.

He thought she might speak, but she only waved, and she left.

12

When John returned to the beach house he left Ruben and Persephone on the deck to debate the differences between movies from

the eighties and current movies that were supposed to feel like movies from the eighties, and found Hannah in her home office,

sitting behind her desk and scribbling on a notepad. She didn’t look up. “Riley wants you to lay those vocals he mentioned.

He’s back in LA tomorrow night and he already booked a session for Wednesday afternoon.”

“Presumptuous of him.”