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Panic, Jay decided. Panicking a little was maybe the best bet.

But not here. Breathing shallowly, he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling back down the drive, breaking into a staggering run as he headed back to his own house, his bastion of dubious safety.

Once inside, he leaned against the door and sank down, trying to catch his breath as it tried to outrace him. Okay, he thought, with a bit of hysteria, Everything is terrifying. But I wasn’t poisoned or murdered, I got a good breakfast, and I have a bit more of an idea of what’s going on. It’s just that what’s going on is local cults to elder gods.

Was that really such a big deal? He picked up one of Aunt Grace’s shoes and turned it around in his hands over and over, just to have something solid and tactile to keep him grounded. It being a local religion didn’t necessarily mean it was, like, something eldritch and awful. Just because Louis had talked about His Coming and shit like that didn’t mean it was real. Hell, Catholics also planned for His Coming, that was just, you know, mainstream.

God, the stories that Grace had told, the dream he’d had, were those tied into this too? When that woman in his dream had told him to find a sign, had there really been an actual person telling him to do so? Had he really been in a library? Had he traveled in his dreams, like Grace had always said she did?

He threw the shoe against the stairway banister post with a loud thunk, and closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said aloud. “Let’s say this is all real. Louis seemed like he was being honest, and he said nobody wanted to hurt me. There are way worse horror cult scenarios to be involved in. He was a relatively friendly connection. Nothing terrible happened. I’m fine.”

Because people who talked aloud to themselves about horror cult scenarios were fine, of course.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He pushed himself to his feet and headed to the basement door.

If there was no door in the house’s basement, then all that had been a story Aunt Grace had made up. If there was—well, it still didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it was a thing he could confirm, at least. Something solid to go off of one way or the other.

He gripped the banister firmly as he headed down the stairs, aware of how unsteady he was right now.

It wasn’t so bad, he reminded himself again. He hadn’t totally screwed up things with Louis, so if the man turned out to have been honest with him, he might have an ally in his corner—if not something more. Louis had been awkward and strange, but seemed to genuinely be hurting for human connection and eager to meet someone new. Perhaps he’d wanted to recruit Jay into his cult, but that might just be something he saw as a thing they could have in common.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, found the light switch, and threw it.

Most of the basement looked pretty normal. There was a long couch here, with a pillow and blanket set up, as if Grace used to sleep down here sometimes. A table was in front of the couch, and further ahead of it, a large wall-mounted TV with bookshelves on either side that held a mix of DVDs, VHSes, and paperback novels. Boxes full of the usual knickknacks of Aunt Grace’s house were stacked against the walls, but there was still plenty of room to move around down here. One door sat open, showing the laundry room. Another..

Another was an old oak door that sat freestanding, a few feet out from the far wall. It didn’t seem to be leaning against anything, as if the frame had been bolted to the floor itself. Slowly, Jay approached it.

Strange symbols had been carved into the door. One was a circle with three twisted lines emerging from it to mark out to what would be the points of a triangle; two of the lines were bent enough to look like question marks, but the third was incomplete. Another symbol looked like a branch, or perhaps seaweed, equally twisted. A third one looked like an inverted ankh. The fourth and final one was a warped, five-pointed star with a flaming eye at its center. The symbols surrounded the knob, which had a keyhole beneath it.

Jay peeked behind the door. Nothing but the space between it and the wall; this side didn’t have a handle, let alone a latch or keyhole. Facing the front of the door again, and drawing a deep breath, he jiggled the handle.

It didn’t open.

It figured that it was locked. He let out a breath and, suddenly finding himself remarkably calm—itself the aftermath of panic, maybe, as if he’d worn his anxiety out—he sat down on the couch.

It was probably best to go ahead assuming this was real, he decided. If it wasn’t, he could laugh at himself later. But if it was real, and he ignored it, he might get himself into some real trouble.

So. Maybe the dream had meant something. Maybe there were signs he could find—if just to better understand what was happening. Or, at least, if he learned what the signs were, he might be able to avoid them. Louis might be able to help him with either option, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to throw his hat in with the first person he met—second, if he were to count Camden—just because the man was attractive and had talked openly to him about all these things.

What he needed was information.

He squeezed his knees with his hands, reluctant to move, then forced himself to his feet. He could try to talk to his other neighbor, he decided. It was late morning, but there was a chance someone would still be home, and the more he learned about the other factions, the more context and information he would get. Somehow, he didn’t feel like ignoring things would make them go away.

As he headed back upstairs and out the door, he tried to remember more about what Aunt Grace had told him, since her position sounded like a good one—getting along with everyone, while rising above the mess. But everything she’d said felt so far away right now, a jumble of dreams and adventures, nothing about local cults. This world, that world, some kind of dream witch. And always the piping music.

Jay hadn’t heard any music. The library had been so silent.

He tried to get his thoughts in order as he headed to the house on the left, trying to figure out what to say. Should he go right ahead and say he’d heard about different cults? Should he ask about the door, about signs? Or play it subtle? He just couldn’t be sure, couldn’t decide.

This house, too, was in a similar architectural style, though a bit larger, as if it had been developed further over time. He drew a breath and tried to focus on at least not looking quite as sickly and horrified as he felt as he knocked at the door. He reminded himself that nobody had been anything but kind to him. He was a stranger in their midst and he’d still been welcomed and greeted just fine. It was natural to be wary, even without all this, but he didn’t necessarily need to assume that anyone was out to get him.

There was enough of a delay after his knock that he almost turned and left again—but then the door opened.

The person on the other side was dubiously thirty and absolutely gorgeous. He had long black hair, slightly curled, and warm, olive-brown skin. His eyes were dark, but seemed to catch the light as they crinkled in a smile, along with a soft-looking mouth. Tall and slim, he was wearing black shoes, fitted black trousers, and a T-shirt that read ‘Technology is bad fire is scary and Thomas Edison was a witch‘.

“Hello there,” the neighbor said, offering a hand along with a bewitching smile. “You must be my new neighbor. Jae-Hyun, right? Grace used to talk about you all the time.” He seemed cheerful, as if this meeting itself was enough to bring him joy.

Jay took the hand, shaking it. “Call me Jay,” he said, stomach giving a little flop, only partly from the firm grip and warmth of that hand. “And you are?”

“Call me Ashesh.” He said it like it was a joke that he didn’t expect Jay to get, and that strange feeling grew.

Ashesh felt wrong somehow—not even in a bad way, not exactly, but there was an intensity to him that took up all of Jay’s attention. It was sort of like it had been with the woman in the library dream, where they were both beautiful and charming but something about them made every hair on his body stand up in alert. They seemed very different from each other in their presentation, even in their personality, but his reaction to them was the same.

As the handshake broke, Ashesh smiled at him again, brightly. “What can I do for you? Everything good?”

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Jay considered his options, and quickly decided that he might as well be straightforward here, and just ask everything that was on his mind. After all, Louis had basically told him to.

“I guess I do have a lot I want to know,” he admitted wryly. “Everyone here seems like they’ve lived here for generations, and here I am wandering into the middle of all these situations I know nothing about.”

“Oh, you certainly are,” Louis agreed. “More than you probably realize. I’d like to, hm.” He glanced Jay over. “Throw you a bone?”

He was definitely flirting. Wasn’t he?? Jay wished he could be sure. He flustered, then rallied, giving Louis a smile back. “I’d like that,” he said. He nibbled on honey toast—good stuff, he decided, definitely real honey. “You said that I’d have large shoes to fill, that Aunt Grace was a hoarder type—it sounds like you knew her pretty well?”

“I don’t know if I’d call her a friend, exactly,” Louis said. “After all, I was still in my teenage years when she was last around. But she was friendly to me, and she and my predecessor may have been actual friends. Your Aunt Grace was a popular person. She managed, somehow, so that even in a place where there were lots of factions, she was on no side, but made herself available to help everyone. And did it in a way that people accepted.”

“I’d heard something like that,” Jay said. He hesitated, his desire not to pry warring with Louis’s own declaration that he’d only answer things that were asked directly. “I’d assume this was your family home, but you said… ‘predecessor’?”

“Not my father’s house,” Louis said lightly. Then, in a self-deprecating tone, “Maybe my daddy’s, but not my father’s.”

Jay blinked, then blanched. “Uhh.”

“No, it’s fine,” Louis said, laughing at the look that must be on his face. “I did deliberately make that sound more objectionable than it was. The person who used to live here had a job that I’ve since taken over. Consider it an apprenticeship.”

“What’s your job?” Jay asked, trying desperately to push past that moment. “I’m a programmer, though my company just went through a round of layoffs. Since Aunt Grace left me the house, I figured… well, might as well take a little break, you know?”

Louis nodded, leaning forward with his chin in one hand. “Sounds like a good idea to me. My job… hm. My job. Are you familiar with the sort of factions there are here?”

This whole conversation was beginning to feel more and more ominous, but he was neck-deep in it now. “I’m not. Camden called them cliques. Are you familiar with him?”

“Yes, I know him,” Louis said. “I’d say I know everyone here a little. He moved here with his little sister a few years ago from another nearby city, one by the sea.” He gestured at his own mask. “He’s got a condition, you know.”

“I, uh, didn’t ask,” Jay admitted. “It seemed private.”

“It probably is,” Louis said with a shrug. “He’s a nice boy. Genuinely sweet, I’d say, which is probably going to be a problem for him sooner or later.”

“So what faction is he in?” Jay asked, starting to eat the oats.

Louis said, “His own, since he moved here. His kind are usually further south.”

“…What sort of factions are here,” Jay asked. He stirred the oats uneasily, not actually willing to look away from Louis at this point.

“Honestly, they’re more like cults,” Louis said.

Great, Jay thought distantly. Sure, great, yeah. He’d moved into a house in a town full of cults. “Is this another of your jokes?”

“Sure, if you like,” Louis said easily. “Think of it as small town religions and small town superstitions. As I said, your Aunt knew everyone and was welcomed as part of it. When they know you’re connected to her, I’m sure the same thing will happen. You seem lovely; I can’t imagine anyone will want to do you harm.”

Jay put his spoon down, picking up the teacup and gulping his tea. For a moment, he struggled to find words. “Uh, you’d understand if I was, uh. Having a little trouble with this?”

“Well, you know I don’t mean you harm, or I would have drugged your tea,” Louis pointed out, with an apparently-strained patience.

Jay looked down at his cup.

“I didn’t,” Louis said.

Swallowing slowly, Jay just tried to stop thinking so much, tried to let this conversation flow where it could. “So what cults? What was your predecessor’s interest in my aunt? Is there anywhere I shouldn’t get rid of her stuff to? Does this have anything to do with the weird note I found this morning?”

Louis blinked at him, leaning back in his seat. “Numerous cults to the old gods. I’d say there are four or five in town. Yes, the neighbor on your other side is involved in one as well, though it’s not the same as mine and so I wouldn’t pry into which one without a more pressing need. My predecessor gave her some signifiers of his god, ones that could allow passage between the realms—in theory. I sent you a note about that this morning, yes. Ah, and I’d be careful of what you get rid of. Strange books or jewelry, anything that feels uncanny to you, hold onto that. If you want to get rid of it anyway? Talk to me. I can hook you up with some proper collectors.”

Jay wheezed softly, leaning back in his seat. “Holy shit.”

“Was that a bit much?”

“You sent me that note?“

For a moment, Louis just gazed at him. And then he tilted his head slowly, smiling behind his mask. “When people find certain things, I know. It’s traditional to warn someone if they’re about to find the Yellow Sign. If you don’t want to find it, don’t read The King in Yellow. If you read it, you’ll find the sign sooner or later. You might anyway.”

“How exactly,” Jay said, “did you know that I found The King in Yellow? Were you watching through the window?”

“I am the Messenger. The Phantom of Truth who wears the Pallid Mask,” Louis said, tone light and easy. “I know all the things that could trigger His coming. That’s my job.”

Jay wheezed, “Does that pay well?”

“Not really,” Louis said. “I also do transcription online.”

“I think I should go,” Jay said.

“Oh,” Louis said. He sounded disappointed, but rose, coming around the table. “That’s fine. I understand.”

And despite everything, Jay didn’t like the dejected tone of Louis’ voice. He drew a breath to apologize, but didn’t know what to say. “…It’s nothing personal,” he said finally, heading to the front hall and taking his shoes down from the cubby there. “I just have a lot to think about.”

“Of course,” Louis said, tone grave. He folded his hands in front of himself, knotting them together. “Well, I won’t take it personally, then. You have a good day, Jay.”

Sure, okay, they could do this all normally now. Sure. “You too, Louis.”

Louis opened the door for him. Jay stepped out, gave him a little nod, and watched as the door closed behind him.

And then he sat down on the steps of Louis’s house, putting his head in his hands.

Now what?

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“You know what,” Jay said, “I honestly am pretty hungry. If it’s no trouble, I’d love to come in.”

Mask or not, Louis was clearly being polite, and Jay could do the same. Besides, if he wanted to get to know the neighbors, it’d be better to spend a little time getting to know each one rather than running around, just barely making introductions. Even if the other neighbors went out, he could talk to them later today, or tomorrow—or whenever, really. He was going to be here a while, after all.

As for inviting the guy over right away… yeah, naw. Not until he got to know him better, at least. He did seem nice—maybe they’d hit it off. And if they did, who knew if, later on, he’d want to invite Louis over anyway.

Louis seemed to smile, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and stepped aside more fully. “Come in, then.”

Jay stepped inside, glancing around. A second impression confirmed his first; the entryway was tidy, decked out with an old console table of scraped varnished wood, decorative paintings, and a cubbyhole shoe rack with only two sets of shoes in them. He took his own shoes off, putting them inside, and heard Louis make a faint hum of approval.

“The dining room’s this way,” Louis said. He lead the way down the corridor to a heavy mahogany table under a slightly-dusty chandelier. “Please take a seat. Any food restrictions?”

“Can’t really manage milk. Cheese is the biggest problem with breakfast foods for me,” Jay said. “Is that okay?”

“I’m inventive,” Louis said. He seemed to wink. “Do get comfortable.”

Jay sat, watching as Louis headed into the kitchen, where he could only just see Louis’s back as he moved around, taking things from the fridge, fiddling around on the counter.

Louis didn’t seem inclined to talk as he worked, and after a few moments of looking around at the room—a painting on the wall of a half-clothed artist’s model, the large china cabinet on another wall—Jay cleared his throat. “Can you direct me to the bathroom?”

“Up the stairs, second door from the end,” Louis called back over his shoulder.

“Be right back.”

Jay headed back to the entrance, then up the stairs. He was being just a little nosy, he knew, taking the time that Louis was busy to look around just a little—though he supposed that Louis had done the same to him as well, if outside.

As he reached the second landing, he realized that the layout of this house was the same as his; they must have been made around the same time. So, that closed door was the office, that one would be a closet, that to the attic stairs, then the bathroom, and the bedroom.

The bedroom door was open, and he glanced into it as he headed into the bathroom. With the lights out, it was hard to see in there. What he could tell was only that the walls were painted black, and the room was dominated by an enormous bed with an intricate metal headboard.

He felt his cheeks heat a little and headed into the bathroom. It, too, had the same style: claw-foot bathtub, freestanding sink, and so on. Slightly water-stained lace curtains fell over the bathroom window; from here, he saw, he could see right his own house’s office, where he could make out the rough shape of the desk.

No wonder Louis had got curious, then, if he’d seen him working in there. Feeling a little more reassured, Jay finished up his business, washed his hands, and came back downstairs.

Louis was just carrying a platter into the dining room as he returned. “Toast and honey,” he said. “A small bowl of oats. Jam. No milk or cheese. Tea?”

“Uh, please,” Jay said. It seemed like the entirety of breakfast was going to be slightly sweet, so the tea would cut the sugar flavor. “Thanks.”

“Of course. It’s my pleasure,” Louis said. He headed back into the kitchen. “I already started the water.”

“Great.” The food did look very good, arranged neatly on the platter. Jay was getting the impression that Louis cared for his aesthetics—and, almost certainly, also his manners. Although he’d found himself suddenly starving, he folded his hands on either side of the platter, waiting for Louis to return.

When he did, carrying a cup of tea, he paused in the doorway, apparently surprised to see Jay waiting. “I’m sorry—feel free to start.”

“Uh.” The single cup of tea, the single platter… “I didn’t want to start before you. Aren’t you joining me?” Jay asked.

“I ate already,” Louis said. He put the cup down at Jay’s elbow, then went around the table, sitting. Folding his hands under his masked chin, he seemed to smile at Jay again. “So, what do you want to ask me about?”

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Huh, Jay thought blankly. Guess I found the woods guy.

Under normal circumstances, meeting a man in a mask who had crept around outside his house as night fell would absolutely be cause for panic. But the absurdity of the entire situation—sunlight, flannel, tight jeans and all—made it almost impossible to panic.

“…Good morning,” he said. He held out a hand. “I’m your new neighbor, Jay Park.”

That masked head tilted, and then his neighbor took it, shaking, his hand slightly chill to the touch. “Louis Castaigne,” he said, his voice odd and soft. Maybe just muffled a little behind his mask. “You moved into Miss Evans’ house.”

As Camden had implied, then, Aunt Grace was well known among the neighbors. “Yes—she was my great-aunt.” Louis gave him a slow look over, as if trying to compare him to Grace and the results not being what he expected. “On my mother’s side.”

“I see,” Louis said. “You’ve large shoes to fill.” The handshake, which had lingered a moment too long, was dropped.

“I’ve heard she was popular in the community,” Jay agreed. He shifted, tucking his hand back into his pocket, his knuckles bumping his pocket knife. “I thought I saw you outside last night—taking a walk?”

“Ah, something like that,” Louis said. “I was curious. I’d known Miss Evans, you see.”

“It was a bit alarming,” Jay admitted. With his other hand, he gestured at his own face, as if to mime a mask there as well. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but looking into the woods at night and seeing…”

Louis tilted his head, as if waiting to see if Jay would finish what he was saying, then chuckled. The sound was warm, his body language slowly relaxing. “Ah. Yes. I do wear this. Everyone around here is used to it.”

“Should I ask…?”

“Only if you want to know the answer,” Louis said, head tilting again. Jay watched him blink languidly through the eye-holes.

Jay laughed awkwardly. “Well, now I’m not sure I do,” he said, still prompting.

Louis nodded. “Don’t ask questions around here unless you want answers,” he advised. “But do ask questions if you do want to dig into people’s business. Secrets don’t get volunteered on their own.”

His voice had warmed considerably through the conversation, and although the words themselves seemed oddly threatening in isolation, his tone was not, more conspiratorial, two people sharing a joke that Jay only wished he got.

“I’m from Seattle,” Jay said. “It’s a pretty different environment.”

“It would be,” Louis said. He stepped aside, holding the door open. “Have you eaten? If you just moved in, you might not have much in the house. Can I offer you anything?”

Through the door, Jay could see that the interior of Louis’ house had a look of luxury—if a faded luxury. Slightly threadbare rugs lay over scuffed hardwood; the kitchen had faux-marble counters and floors, and he could see somewhat scratched and peeled gold gilt on the banisters in the stairway leading up. Perhaps the interior had been opulent in Louis’ parents time, or even his grandparents’, but whatever he’d inherited was less so.

“Oh, I couldn’t put you out,” Jay said. “Besides, I was hoping to meet all the neighbors this morning—I really want to go around and make some friends around here.”

“It’s no trouble,” Louis said. “I don’t get company often, not since I began to live here alone. And I could tell you about the neighbors, if you wish.” His gaze passed over Jay, eyes intent, and Jay had the sudden distinct impression of getting checked out. Louis’s expression warmed again, heavy lids lowering again. There was a hint of smile in his voice when he spoke again. “I’d like to know more about you, Jay. Or if you’d rather not come in, perhaps you I could come help you with your house, later? I recall Miss Evans being something of a hoarder, and it must be a lot for you to deal with alone. I’d love if I could take some of the burden away, help you sort her things.”

Jay hesitated on answering. He hadn’t eaten yet today, and while he could eat some of his cold pizza later, it might not hurt to get to know this handsome—if mysterious—neighbor a bit better, and see what information he could get from him.

On the other hand, he did want to meet the other neighbors for himself, and delaying here might mean missing them, since they’d probably go out as the day went on. Learning about them secondhand might be helpful, but could also bias him, especially if it was as cliquey here as Camden had said.

And he could use the help with the house, certainly; a second pair of hands would make things go faster. Still, he wasn’t sure if he should; he didn’t know how Grace and Louis had got along, after all, and there was still the question of whoever had slid the note under his door, let alone the vagueness of Louis’ answer about what he’d been doing in the woods.

But if he refused all offers entirely, might Louis take that badly? Louis might be a little weird, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a bad person. Fitting in here was going to be hard enough already. Refusing both offers might close some doors, at least if he wasn’t careful in how he went about it.

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