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“It was with the understanding that you might be busy and there would be no worries. But he’s on tour. Not a lot of open days. And you know you want to do it. Deep inside you want the world to hear what you have to say. It’s the same for everybody. You’ve seen the internet.”

He watched as she continued to scribble.

“So,” she said. “How did it go?”

He closed the office door behind him. “You never passed me her number. You don’t believe her.”

“The scar?” she said, still writing. “She could’ve seen it online, hi res. The bicycle bit? How many kids have one? I bet

she couldn’t tell you a thing about your family.”

“She isn’t a fake. And you let her come forward. Why let me on the show if you never believed it?”

Hannah lifted her head. “If I thought you’d completely fall for it I might not have.” She put down her pen. “We had to give

them a happy ending. The world. The people. Starboard Food and Beverages.” She looked back at him, and it was one of the few

times he saw who she was before she’d moved to Los Angeles. Na?ve, young, willful. “I’m sorry. I know you think I’m not and

that I don’t care, but I really am, I do.” She leaned back into her chair. “Oh, come on. You know yourself there’s something

not right about that woman. I could see it in your face the moment you laid eyes on her. We couldn’t let things drag out forever

and we couldn’t end the search on a downer. I knew things were going that way when I saw that no one was making it through

the vetting. And Mabel”—Hannah shook her head—“she made it through everything. The personal statement, the interviews with

neighbors and coworkers—the few there were—the lie detector tests... I made her take that third after she passed the two.

It all checked out. But the thing is, she wants to get to you as bad as everyone else, but she isn’t deluding herself about

it. She contacted us a few times, before the search was even announced. She isn’t a crazy person. And that tells me we have

to be very careful with her.”

“You said nothing.”

“My gut tells me she’s hiding something.”

Hannah was obviously concerned; what John didn’t know was whether she was concerned about him or his brand.

“John, we had to give the people what they wanted.”

The brand, then.

“They aren’t out there. It’s like I told you before.” She paused. “We’ll come out with the truth next week.”

“And what truth is that?”

“That she isn’t a relative and she was lying. Four to six months will be enough time for the public to digest the happy ending

and then they’ll consider the truth inevitable. Because everybody knows everything ends up shit in the end. They’re suspicious

otherwise.”

“It’s all maneuvers and illusions for you. You want to give everyone their bullshit, fine, but don’t you try to steer me.”

“I was giving them hope . Do you even remember what that is? You think I haven’t noticed how disconnected you are from all of this? Have you even

stopped to think about what you really mean to people?”

“You’re the one to tell me?”

“What, I’m a woman so I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about? Or is it because I’m white? I’m white, so I’m clueless,

is that it?”

“You don’t have to be clueless to be wrong.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“Your investment, you mean.”

“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to position you? It wouldn’t be enough to just waltz back into the land of the living, you

know.”

“I should be grateful.”

“Yeah, a little fucking appreciation wouldn’t hurt.”

He thought of the way she’d looked at Riley that night, proud and protective and intense, and now he understood what had discomfited

him about it: her protectiveness seemed genuine, but coursing through it was an undertone of patronage, an undercurrent of

white guilt. However faint, he recoiled from it now. “I don’t need you to save me, Hannah.”

“You can’t have this stranger in your life!”

He stared at her, at her wind-mussed hair, at the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tried to regain her breath, at her struggle to regain control.

He saw again the young girl standing before her ruined birthday cake, her drunken father in the corner, the lies she had to tell to hold it all together; he sensed the years stretched behind her, all her disappointments and her expectations that things would inevitably end in despair.

And he didn’t know exactly what to say to her now, because he agreed with her so completely.

So he said, “You want to take a breath?”

“I’m fine,” she said sharply. But she took a breath. “OK. Now what?”

“Now we forget this search for whomever from my past.”

“But Mabel?”

“Can’t tell me much.”

“You... don’t want to find your Big House?”

“Grey House. And I do. But my past isn’t the way there.”

Hannah smoothed her paper with a hand. “You know what I wanted more than anything, as a kid? I wanted to change the world.

Twelve years old and I swore I was going to leave my mark. You can be whatever you want . The sky’s the limit, kid . Girls do it better. You believe all of it. But nobody tells you how hard that’s going to be. And then it hits you: Not enough time, baby. Not

enough fucking time. I don’t know if you can remember what that feels like, but it’s scary. It’s enough to keep you up at

night if you think too long on it, and I thought long on it a lot. Fear is a hell of a battery. It drove me through college

and through my first internship and probably the first year of my marriage. And it still drives me, every day. Every hour.

But no matter what I accomplish, there’s this huge clock ticking in my ears. It’s cruel, don’t you think? Being made to be

the only creatures living who can see time spooled before us and laid out behind us, to know there just isn’t enough of the

damned stuff.”

She always appeared so fierce but inside she was as vulnerable as anyone. He felt as if these past few minutes he had witnessed

something very private, and he felt himself soften toward her. If anyone could understand needing to feel armored against

the world, it was him, and yet... “Maybe impending obliteration is a necessary component to being alive.”

“Maybe. And maybe this is my chance,” she said. “To inspire the world, to change history. With you. Maybe it’s your chance, too. Maybe in your life you screwed things up royally and now you’re supposed to make it right. Or maybe I’m full of shit.” She smiled.

“Maybe.” John smiled back. He knew an apology when he heard one.

13

That evening, John sat with Ruben and Persephone on her living room floor, waiting for something to happen.

“So we’re looking for a portal now and not a physical house?” Persephone whispered. “But how in the world do we make one?”

She looked around the dimly lit room. “And are we sure we want to open it here? What if it doesn’t close back up? What if

those vines...” She shivered, still shaken after Ruben and John explained to her the truth about the fog vines.

Ruben, eyes closed and clad in his tasseled robe, said, “A portal wouldn’t stay open very long, if we could even make it.

Come on, guys, concentrate.” He opened his eyes. “Dude, I feel like we should’ve prepared our goodbyes and so-long, see-you-soons.

What if the portal does appear and you have to hurry into it? It’ll be like dropping my mom off at the airport when she’s

about to miss her flight.” He frowned and shut his eyes.

Persephone stared down at her legs. “But what if those fog-vine-whatevers come back? What if the Grey Man shows?”

“The fog vines can’t hurt you,” Ruben said, opening his eyes again. “You probably wouldn’t see them, anyway.”

“But the Grey Man—I mean, would I see him? Would he come for me?”

“Well,” Ruben said slowly, “we can’t know, really.”

“You guys, Christine would definitely say I’m opening my house up to some bad vibes. What if the Grey Man gets stuck here

afterwards? What if he haunts this place—or worse, me ? What if he brings back low-energy spirits from another dimension?”

Ruben looked impressed. “Theoretically, that stuff could happen. But you aren’t trying to do an out-of-body and we aren’t calling upon any spirits. All we’re doing is sitting here and concentrating on the connection between you and John and the grey stuff back at his house.”

“I don’t know if I see a difference,” Persephone mumbled, but she closed her eyes.

“I say all that,” said Ruben, “but we can totally not do this. Right, John?”

John said what he knew he should, even as he hoped it wouldn’t make her reconsider. “I can’t say it won’t be dangerous—”

“What?” Persephone opened her eyes.

“—but I can’t say it will be, either.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Believe me, I don’t want to see the Grey Man any more than you do—”

In an instant, John wasn’t in Persephone’s house, wasn’t with Persephone and Ruben at all.

14

He sits waiting in a sleek corner office, all harsh lines and edges, high in the sky, gazing at the glittering river as it

cuts through the city. It’s busy below, black cabs and red buses rushing about as crowds bustle up and down the streets. But

here, in the uppermost floor of the building, the dark woods and the solemn marble lend a sense of stillness, of unhurried

import to the atmosphere and I must not be nervous.

Even if this office is twice as large as his entire flat.

He stares at the ringed triangle etched into the marble near his feet. He doesn’t know why they’ve chosen him—he’s only a

temp here, after all—but apparently a background check has proved his life to be quiet, private, and suitable for a new position.

Something not quite on the books.

15

Persephone collapsed onto the floor. “What the hell was that?”

“Dude!” Ruben exclaimed. “OK, did we all see a ginormous corner office, a river and traffic and people and a—a—a symbol?”

“But I didn’t see John,” said Persephone. “Instead, it was like I was John, seeing everything from his point of view.” She shuddered.