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“I’ve got the cash and that’s all they want. You guys have done more than enough. Nothing else for you to do, and if there

was I wouldn’t ask it of you.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“OK.” Her voice was barely audible.

Parker jerked his thumb toward the motel room door. “I’d better get going.”

“Parker...” Persephone hugged herself and ran her hands over her arms.

“I’ll be fine, Funny. They just want their money. I’ll call you right after I get this settled, OK?”

“Promise?”

“?’Course. You guys should get going.”

Persephone stepped forward and embraced her brother and whispered something in his ear. He whispered something back and held

her tight. After Parker left, she stood with her back to the door, eyes shining and lips trembling.

John felt compelled to change the subject. “It seems the housekeepers have taken care of our cigarette problem. The smell

of smoke, I mean.”

Persephone closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Exhaled. And then she opened her eyes and rolled them, looking once again like her usual self. “Are you kidding? It still reeks .”

18

Ruben slowed the Cadillac to a stop at an intersection. “Tuna fish sandwich, beer-battered fish... I am a starving man.

These leftovers aren’t cutting it.”

Persephone stared out into the night, an arm dangling from the back window.

“I’m really thinking pancakes,” Ruben went on, addressing no one in particular. “Chicken and waffles, maybe.” Ruben’s nonstop

chatter made it obvious how nervous he was to be searching for water towers now that they believed the portal to the Grey

House might be near one, which meant the Grey Man as well. “Or maybe chicken-fried steak.”

“It’ll be all right, Ruben,” John said. “You won’t be coming inside. You won’t need to see him again.”

“What are you talking about, dude? I’m cool.” Ruben turned on the car radio and glanced at John.

“I’m not going to disappear,” John said.

Ruben continued to drive, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to a song. After a short commercial break,

a very familiar drumbeat and piano melody looped through the car.

“Hey, isn’t that—” Ruben turned up the volume.

It was. Riley’s song, featuring John. John, self-conscious, kept his gaze to the window, though he only came in at the very

end, and there was a different section of the track playing than what he remembered speaking over. His contribution was to

the point: I’m John. And it’s out there.

He hadn’t said it. That is to say, he’d said those words, but with many other words in between. Now there were new spaces

and omitted spaces, the cobbled result being an uncomfortably sentimental context unrecognizable from what he’d actually said

or intended.

Ruben turned to John. “Coinky-dink?”

“That...?”

“That we’re looking for these mysterious water towers and right now, the song comes on, telling us It’s out there. ”

“Riley Ray’s songs are some of the most played in the world.”

“Dude.”

“Coincidence.”

“Or a sign.”

As they pulled into the car park of a fast food seafood restaurant, the orchestral sounds of Persephone’s mobile filled the

car but she didn’t move from the window.

“All right, gang,” Ruben said as he parked. “I’m grabbing a tuna melt. Any requests?”

After Ruben strode from the car, Persephone’s mobile rang again. This time she picked it up, but when she glanced down, she

set it aside.

“Is Parker all right?” John asked.

“It’s my mom. I’ll call her back soon.”

In less than ten minutes, they were back on the road. The sun was beginning to set, splashing orange and pink and violet across

the sky.

“I’m just glad we’ve got something to go on,” Ruben said, “something really solid.”

“I wouldn’t call it solid,” said Persephone. “But I guess it’s something.”

“Maybe one of these side roads will take us there.” Ruben slowed the car and drove down a narrow, two-lane road. “Hey, about

my mom and Hannah’s husband?”

“Yes?” said John.

“I think I have seen him. A really long time ago, though. Like, when my aunt was here. In LA, I mean.”

“Your aunt?”

“My mom’s youngest sister. She was helping out. Answering the door, keeping track of Mamá’s appointments, stuff like that.”

That could explain things. “I mean no offense by this, but do you think he was seeing your aunt?”

“No way. Aunt Mary was already married and super devoted to her husband back in DR.”

“So you think he was visiting your mother for readings?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Like I said—”

“Bigwigs. Right.”

Ruben smiled, proud. “Some of those people don’t make a move, won’t trade a major stock, without talking to Mamá about it

first.”

John wondered what Hannah would think about her husband seeing a psychic, especially for business advice, which he imagined

would be antithetical to her.

“You think it’s all coincidence?” Ruben asked.

“Your mother and Hannah’s husband?”

“Not just that. You and me meeting, Mamá advising Gunther J?ger, the man married to the woman representing you. It’s very

Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.”

“You mentioned that before.”

“There’s definitely something to it. Thing is, I don’t believe in coincidences. The connection with my mom and me and you

and Hannah and her husband back to my mom—it’s got to mean something.”

John didn’t want to tell Ruben that the world was small, that commonplace things happened every day and could be deemed interesting,

that any two events might appear connected if one tried hard enough. But he couldn’t not say it, either. “Do you remember

when Persephone was looking at ancestry websites and saw just how many celebrities are related to US presidents? Practically

everyone.”

“Yeah, but... this is different.”

“Is it?” But even as he asked, John detected in his words the hope that Ruben would say something convincing. It was embarrassing,

John’s desperation to believe.

“I have a feeling,” said Ruben.

“I thought you said you weren’t psychic.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what does this feeling mean?”

“That I’m human. And that my spidey senses are tingling.”

“I suggest you get a spidey-sense tune-up—we’ll be hitting that pothole.”

Ruben veered to the right and winced as the Cadillac hit another pothole anyway.

“Over there,” John said, as suddenly as the thought entered his mind. “Pull over.”

Ruben jerked the wheel hard and the Cadillac jostled as they pulled over beside a narrow strip of wild grass, on the other

side of which stretched a rocky bar of sand, and beyond that, the Atlantic. While John and Ruben walked to the water, Persephone

remained in the car, still silent in the back seat, likely ruminating over her brother’s troubles.

“Anything?” Ruben asked.

“Not a whisper,” John said.

“What do you think you were looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” John murmured.

“Hmm.”

“But my spidey senses are tingling.”

Ruben laughed. “Really?”

“No.” John would feel ridiculous saying that yes, he did feel something , though he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, only that he could not get over the feeling that he’d been here before.

Something was placing him firmly here, almost at this very spot. “What do you think your mother would say if someone told

her they’d been to a place before, but of course it wasn’t possible that they’d been to this place?”

Ruben set his hands on his hips. “She’d probably ask if it’s really an impossibility or if you’re thinking it’s more like

a slim-chance kind of thing. She’d think a past life could explain things, too. Or it could be that you’re reminded of a place.

Or it could be that something about the energy of the place is drawing you to it.”

“But if any place were pulling me toward it, wouldn’t it be the Grey House?”

“You never can tell with these things. And, you know...”

“You’re not a psychic.”

“Alas, I am not a psychic, dude.” He grimaced.

“You OK?”

“My stomach. I’m good.”

John studied the dark expanse of the ocean beyond.

“Speaking of the unknown,” Ruben said as he crossed his arms across his torso, “I know you’re fake dating and whatnot, but,

like, are there any, you know, feelings... ?”

“There’s nothing there, Ruben. She’s entirely too young. Not to mention the obvious.”

“Living, dead. Yeah. But you know, the age thing between humans and paranormals is always eh.” Ruben made a wavering motion

with his hand.

“There’s nothing there. Why?” Probably he was just daring Ruben to say it aloud.

“No reason. Look, I think we should do two rounds of Overlays when we get back to the car. You look really faded. We gotta

get you back to normal.”

But what did normal even look like for John? He drew a deep breath and again became overwhelmed with the feeling he’d been

here before.

“Aw, man,” Ruben said with a groan. “I think that tuna melt was not copacetic.” He lurched, bent forward, and proceeded to

lose the contents of his stomach.

In moments, Persephone was beside him, a palm on her knee as she rubbed his back.

“Tuna melt, we think,” John offered.

“I’ll be right back,” she said when Ruben lurched again. She returned with a bottled water. “You’re gonna wanna rinse afterward.”

After a time, Ruben took a few swigs of water, swished, and spit. “I’m good,” he said breathlessly. “That was a really weird

color. Funny enough, it was the palette of Maximum’s Awakening series, a couple of years ago. I’ll have to ask him about his inspiration one day.”

“Oh, great,” Persephone said to John. “You were able to reschedule?”

“Reschedule?” John said absently.

She raised a brow.

“Hm? Oh, right.”

Her face morphed from confusion to dawning recognition. And then fury. “The meeting with Maximum Peace?” she demanded. “The one you didn’t want me to bother trying to get for Ruben? Really, John?” She was the one setting a dare, now.

“What... what’s going on?” Ruben said.

John wasn’t going to be cowed. “Yes,” he said to Persephone tersely, “the Maximum Peace meeting. What about it?”

“Why don’t you tell Ruben?”

“Why don’t you? You seem to have it all figured out. I’d tell you not to let me stand in your way, but we both know that would