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Jay took a deep breath and felt himself relax a little. A wave of relief rushed over him as he reached out to take the vase. “Thanks, Camden,” he said, and heard his voice come out a little shaky. “This is really kind of you.”

It was a good reminder: no matter what was going on with cults and gods and signs and the end of the world, there were still good folks who wanted to help each other. It was easy to get caught up in all this, and in the paranoia of not knowing of who he could trust or what they wanted from him. But there was more than just that.

Camden licked his lips, tilting his head slightly. “You, uh, look stressed. You okay?”

Jay hesitated on what to say; on the one hand, of course he had the impulse to avoid talking about any of this to anyone. He’d sound absolutely nuts. On the other hand—Camden was also a relatively new arrival, according to Louis, only here for a few years, and was aware of the ‘factions’ while being in one of his own rather than anyone else’s. It was possible he’d have something of an outside perspective, and Jay also wasn’t sure he could get much insight on whatever was going on with Camden’s perspective without talking to him directly.

“I’m not okay,” Jay admitted. He looked down at the vase; it was an assortment of flowers that looked to have been arranged professionally, not plucked from a garden. “Can I talk to you about some stuff?”

“Uh.” Camden shifted on the step, but nodded, rubbing his hands together where he had them clasped. “Sure. I mean, you know, I came over to see if there was, uh, anything I can do for you, so… sure?”

“Thanks. Shut the door behind you?” Jay carried the vase in, though he turned back before he could entirely leave Camden’s line of sight. As much as he hoped to have a sympathetic ear in Camden, without knowing more, he didn’t want to leave anyone from this town alone in his house, with whatever strange supernatural things Aunt Grace might have owned.

Camden entered, shutting and locking the door, and looked around. “She really, uh, she was always real bad at cleaning up.”

“Way too much,” Jay agreed. “It’s worse than I remember as a kid, but she probably tidied for family visits and stuffed her junk in other rooms. Living room?”

He led the way out there, putting the vase beside the fireplace mantle, letting out a sigh as he sank down onto the couch. Camden followed him in, then perched on the edge of the chair there, hands on his knees, shoulders hunched.

“I’ve been hearing some strange things about the town,” Jay began. “About… well. Frankly, about cults.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Camden muttered. “I didn’t want to lead with that? You know, just say, cults? It’s weird as hell and super freaky and I thought maybe, they’d, um, leave you out of all that. You’re not your great-aunt. The worst thing would be if… if you were taking over her role just because… she wasn’t here?”

“What was my aunt’s role?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Camden said. He fidgeted, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the hardwood floor. “Being an outsider, maybe.”

Jay leaned back, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“I don’t know if I do either,” Camden admitted. He sighed, slumping further in his chair. “She was good at giving advice without committing. Said she had her own interests to watch out for. I think she was a master of a dream realm.”

“Dreams again,” Jay said. “I don’t know what that is. A dream realm.” He tilted his head forward to watch Camden. “But I think it’s important?”

Camden dragged one broad finger against the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “I haven’t done it myself,” he protested. “But the… the gods people worship here, they’re from other worlds, originally. From… from somewhere far away. And some of them stay on this world and some stay on other worlds, but the dreamlands spread between all worlds so they’re, um, they’re… a way for even those gods and their creatures to get around, to spread their worship. And most people don’t go far enough into the dreamlands to leave their own… area? I guess. They just dream, their unconscious mind fiddles around with their memories and the things they have to work through and toys around with the stuff of dreams to let that happen. But some people can walk around the dreamlands. And some really advanced ‘waking-worlders’ can lay claim to a place in dreams. And some can make their own worlds. Everyone said that Miss Grace was a waking-worlder, and since she vanished, they all say that instead of dying, she chose create her own kingdom to live in.”

Jay couldn’t quite keep himself from grimacing. “Like ‘she went to live on a farm’?”

“Does sound like that kind of thing, huh,” Camden said. He, too, grimaced; it was a little more grotesque on him. “I don’t know if it’s real or not. I don’t know about much of this.”

“Who do you worship?” Jay asked, quiet. Not entirely sure he wanted to know.

“I don’t want to worship anyone,” Camden said. He ducked his head further. “My hometown, the community there, they worship these ocean gods, the progenitors of a race of undersea… things. But we’re cursed because of it.”

Cursed… Jay winced, sympathetic and out of his depth. “Louis said you had a… a condition.”

“Louis doesn’t know when to shut up,” Camden mumbled. He sighed, running fingers through his greasy hair. “They say our people have children with the deep ones. The things who live underwater, their blood runs through our veins. We start out looking normal and then slowly change to become more like them. We get drawn to the water, until eventually…”

“Eventually?” Jay asked, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know,” Camden said. “We go under. Maybe we drown down there. I thought maybe if we’re away from our community it won’t happen. Everyone else refused to go, so I took Candace and left.”

An uneasy feeling was swelling in Jay’s chest. “Your sister?”

“Yeah. She still looks human,” Camden said.

“So do you,” Jay said.

“Do I?” Camden made a face.

Jay made sure his voice was coming out firmly. “Dude, you absolutely do,” he said. “I imagine you probably have… changed so you see the ways you’ve changed most, but I wouldn’t have thought you weren’t human.”

“Just ugly, right?” Camden asked. He held up a hand. “Sorry, don’t—sorry. I know there’s no way you can answer that.”

“Sorry,” Jay said too. “It’s just… I don’t know what to say. Anyway, I’ve definitely seen worse. I bet you’d clean up well.”

Camden flushed. “Well, I basically avoid submerging myself in water, just in case, so that’s not really something I’m great about doing either.”

“Hydrophobic?”

“Want it too much.”

“Jeez,” Jay said. “Sorry. I know it’s personal.”

Camden shrugged a shoulder. “…I guess it’s better that you learn about it,” he said. “If these things are all piling up, you should know whatever you think you need to know to have it help. And…”

“And?”

“I don’t… nnn.” Camden sighed, then slapped his knees with his hands, straightening up more. “Listen, this stuff, all the things about it, cults and gods and dreams and curses, it’ll eat at you. It’s hard to keep yourself healthy with all of this battering around in your head. Believe me, I know. You should walk away from it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Jay blurted out. “Someone told me the world was going to end.”

“—What?”  Camden stared at him, bulging eyes wide.

“I don’t know! All he said was our world was going to end, and I didn’t have much time, and I needed to… learn? Investigate?” Jay picked at a torn thread on the couch, desperate to have something to do with his fingers. “I don’t know what’s expected of me. I think it has something to do with the dream world and I need to find some sort of sign so I can go into the dream world without putting myself at risk, and maybe I’ll learn more when I do that. But I don’t want to ally myself with any particular cult, but also I don’t want to alienate anyone, and I can’t go too slowly or the world might end and I don’t know if Aunt Grace left this to me on purpose—”

Camden rose, then came over, joining Jay on the love-seat. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay.” He put a clammy hand over Jay’s, preventing him from picking. “You’re not alone.”

That cut off Jay’s rant, the building pressure in his chest draining. “What?”

“If you have to be involved with this stuff,” Camden said slowly, “Lean on people where you can. Don’t… trust everyone, obviously, but don’t take it all on yourself. Being alone in this is a good way to completely lose it. I’ll help if I can?”

Jay swallowed; the pressure in his chest had seemed, actually, to shift to his throat, and was a scratchy lump there. “I don’t know,” he said.

“It’s fine if you don’t want me to,” Camden said. “But then, like… stop sometimes. Even if you’re in a hurry, smell some flowers. Read something normal. Email your parents.” He gave Jay what was surely meant to be an encouraging smile. “Keep in touch with normal things. And if you do want me to help you investigate just… tell me what you want me to do. If you want me doing things with, or just being there, or not being there, whatever helps you out the most… I’ll see what I can manage.”

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Jay stared at Ashesh’s closed door and tried to process what had just happened.

Okay, he thought distantly. So he met a guy with an unnaturally overpowering presence who mysteriously implied he’d been ‘invited’ here, magically made keys and books appear, and apparently was affiliated with a cult without being part of a cult. And claimed the world was about to end, that also was a thing.

Was it crazy for him to think that this guy might not be human? Normally, yes, it would be nuts. But under the circumstances…

Dazedly, Jay headed back to his house. He’d been planning on seeing who else was around a few houses down, or even go into the city, but everything felt really big, really overwhelming, and really just… too much. He needed time to deal with this and wasn’t sure he was up to starting something new.

Besides, it sounded like he had things to deal with at home.

As he opened the door, he compared the new set of keys to his old, lining them up. Two of the keys—the two longer ones—were the same as those he’d already had, which only raised more questions. If this guy was an eldritch god, why would he bother giving Jay keys he already had copies of? Had Grace actually had him housesit, and these keys were really spares she’d loaned him, and if so, what had she known about him? Or was it meant to put him at ease? Or the opposite, was it meant to freak him out? Imply that Ashesh had been inside the house whenever—even last night, when Jay was sleeping?

Fuck all of this.

His first impulse was to just go back to bed and take a nap, wake up when the world made sense again, but the idea was itself frightening. If he fell asleep in that house, would he end up in the library again? Without bearing a sign, and without opening the door, would he be safe? The woman in the library had implied not.

It was only midday; would he even be able to find ‘a sign’ before tonight? Did he want to? Should he sleep somewhere else? He could probably afford a hotel—he wanted to watch his finances, but they couldn’t be too expensive out here in Kingsport. Or—

He made a face at himself. Louis would probably let him stay over, but he wasn’t sure that was a great idea either.

Jay’s head felt too full, scratchy with anxiety, thoughts chasing each other around and around. Suddenly needing to vent it, he grabbed his pillow from one of his moving bins and screamed into it until he started to feel silly, then dropped it, taking a deep breath.

One thing at a time, he decided. He could shelve the issue of sleeping until he saw how the rest of the day went. The morning had already been wild, a scattered thing, and he needed to focus down on each next step.

First up, food. His breakfast had been fine, but it was almost noon now. He grabbed his cold pizza from the fridge—cheeseless pizza at least meant that it needed heating up less than most—and sat at the crowded kitchen table, pushing things away to make space.

And then he cracked open the book that Ashesh had given him.

As soon as he opened it, he understood why Ashesh had warned him that it might be hard to use without knowing at least a few names of things to have a place to start. Each entry was about some obscure monster, god, creature, or place, all of which sounded made up and fantastical. He flipped through aimlessly for a few moments; while the idea that all of these things might be real was terrifying, it was impossible to tell what was relevant to him.

Focus, he reminded himself. He had heard a few terms, and he could see if those were in there.

The Phantom of Truth — see the Pallid Mask. Already promising, if that was the word for something like this. But Louis had tied those two concepts together, and if this book did too, that had to mean something. He flipped through.

The Pallid Mask — paraphernalia worn by the messenger associated with Hastur, the King in Yellow. There is little consistency with the appearance or behavior of this messenger, save that they generally are ritualistically associated with the potential arrival of the King in Yellow. Research indicates that the Pallid Mask is originally meant to indicate the role of the Stranger in the play ‘The King in Yellow’, a performance that is said to endlessly be enacted on Carcosa, but was also published in English in a short print run in 1895.

That gave Jay more to look up, even if he felt pretty bad about all of it.

Hastur (The King in Yellow, The Feaster from Afar, the Shepherd God, The Unspeakable One, Him Who Is Not to be Named, Assatur, Xastur, H’aaztre, Kaiwan, or The King in Yellow) – An Old One who is sometimes described as a god, a place, or an object. A silent watcher who, as many of its kind, will drive to madness those who look directly upon him. Sometimes he is considered the god of the world of Carcosa, and sometimes another term for Carcosa itself. His presence is marked by the discovery of one of the Elder Signs, the Yellow Sign.

The pizza felt rubbery in his mouth. He forced himself to keep chewing as he flipped to a new section.

Elder Signs – Sigils or symbols of the Old Ones, Elder Beings, the Deep Ones, and other forgotten and chthonic deities. The below list is partial; some may be multiple forms of the same sign, or may be misrepresentations. Use this list with caution.

There followed a long list of symbols, many of which were rendered nearly incomprehensible with ink blots in the printing of them. Jay skimmed them, looking for the symbols that he had seen on the door. It took him some time, but he was able to find all four.

The twisted ‘triangle’ made from two question marks and another warped line was the Yellow Sign, the symbol of Hastur. The reverse ankh was a symbol of a god named Nyarlathotep, while the branch/seaweed was a mark of something called the Deep Ones. The warped star with the flaming eye in the middle was listed as an unknown Elder Sign, often used for protection against other gods, and for protections in dreams; as such, it was associated with a being called Keziah, the Witch of Dreams.

This only gave Jay more to look up, and he was feeling worse and worse about all he read, almost skimming at this point. Keziah’s entry described an ancient god who took on the form of an attractive young woman who had existed since the creation of the earth, a witch who haunted places she had been through dreams. The Deep Ones’ entry described an immortal race of undersea beings; Nyarlathotep’s entry described a shape-shifting, malign deity called the Crawling Chaos, an outer god who was unusual in that he preferred to walk among humans in disguise as one of them, and who stood outside the usual pantheon by acting as the messenger of the Outer Gods, enacting their will, possibly due to his role as the their prince, the child of the ruler of the Outer Gods, Azathoth.

Jay’s head was swimming, and that feeling of scratching was back, as if all his thoughts were clawing to get out, swarming over each other. He wanted to laugh and to cry. None of this was real; it couldn’t be. It was all a fantasy someone had cooked up and written about, not something he’d wandered into, not something he had to accept as part of his reality, not something he had to deal with.

A knock came at his door and for a moment he wanted to run and hide. He didn’t think he could face dealing with anyone else, anything else.

But it came again and he hauled himself out of the chair, desperate to tell whoever was there to go away. He knew his hair was messy—he’d been running his hands through it over and over as he read—and he had no idea what expression was on his face as he yanked the door open.

Camden gave him a nervous smile. “U-uh, hi,” he said. He held out a vase of flowers. “I, um, thought, I was thinking it, um, you were probably working hard and might be, um, feeling kind of alone in, um, in the house of someone you cared about w-who’s gone now, and wanted, uh, wanted to get you something to cheer you up. I also, uh, i also moved here from somewhere else, so I, uh, you know, I get it. I was wondering if, um, there was anything I could help you with?”

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Part of Jay tried to analyse this feeling of overwhelming presence. His impulse was, oddly, to trust it. The woman in the library had mentioned having an agent in town; perhaps this was that person. And if not, maybe it at least meant it was related to that dream in some way. He should, he decided, try to pay attention to that feeling when it happened.

The rest of him was finding that attentiveness, that attraction, to be really damn hot, and it was very quickly overruling the rest of him.

“Good, great,” Jay found himself saying. “Fantastic. Love the shirt.”

“Thanks!” Ashesh said. “Technophobes are my pet peeve. There’s no use in being trapped in the old ways if we don’t update them for the future.”

“I completely agree,” Jay said. “Programmer. I mean, I am a programmer.” He was making an idiot of himself, but was having a hard time not babbling. “Though right now I’m just, uh, trying to settle in here. So I’m, you know, going around, meeting the neighbors.”

Ashesh’s smile brightened, his eyes twinkling. “Well, nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m not actually one of your neighbors, but I hope you’re willing to meet me anyway.”

“Very willing.” Jay drew a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. “What do you mean? Just visiting?”

“Something like that. I was invited over,” Ashesh said with a shrug. “But the homeowner had to leave on a trip, so I’m staying here in the meantime.”

Jay nodded. “Housesitting, huh.”

“Sure, housesitting,” Ashesh said. He gestured. “You want to come in?”

There was no reason not to; he was here to get to know people. Even if Ashesh might not be his actual neighbor, he was still here for the time being, and he too might have some information if he was around often enough. “Sure, I’ll come wherever you want.”

Laughing, Ashesh said, “Is that so.”

His ears caught up with his mouth. “I, uh—I just meant, I’m happy to come in, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Is that what you meant… no, it’s no intrusion, come on in. Coffee?”

Jay wasn’t sure that more caffeine was a great idea at this rate, but it was a good excuse to sit and have a conversation. “Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.”

Ashesh led the way into the living room next to the entrance, the front window looking out over his—or, Jay supposed, the owner’s—lawn. “Take a seat,” Ashesh said, gesturing to the living room generally.

Unlike Louis’s place, the furniture here was more modernized. Not exactly minimalist, and there was a rich rug in the middle of the floor, but it didn’t have a feeling of old, ostentatious wealth about it. Jay took a seat in the armchair, because the other option was the couch, and if he took that, Ashesh might sit with him, and at this point Jay didn’t trust himself to not shuffle closer.

Ashesh headed into the kitchen, and the weight of his presence lifted. Jay took a few breaths, trying to get himself under control, antsy and nervous and, frankly, horny. It was like, on seeing Ashesh, all his panic and anxiety had converted straight into hormones.

Like being a teenager all over again, he thought at himself, wryly.

Shortly after that, just when Jay had been about to pull out his phone to occupy himself, Ashesh came back in carrying two cups and a small copper pot with a long handle. It took Jay a moment to place it. “Turkish coffee?”

“I prefer it. Is that all right?” Ashesh glanced over with his brows raised, hands halted right before pouring.

“No, it’s great. I haven’t had it before myself,” Jay said. “But I mean, today’s a day for new things.”

“Oh, then you do have to try it.” Ashesh poured for them both, handing Jay a cup and then perching on the edge of the sofa cushion. “So you’re meeting the neighbors?”

Jay took a sip, overwhelmed for a moment by the rich strength of the coffee and the unexpected undercurrent of cardamom. He licked the foam off his upper lip, and tried to decide exactly what to say.

But—and maybe it was this newfound recklessness speaking, he wasn’t sure—he didn’t feel like playing coy would get him far. He needed information, and maybe he would offend Ashesh, he wasn’t sure, but being straightforward had worked for him so far.

“I just got back from meeting Louis,” Jay said. “He seems nice, if a little odd. But, ah, he told me some strange things about this town.”

“Oh, yes, he would,” Ashesh agreed. He took a sip of his own coffee with visible pleasure; Jay watched his tongue swipe some foam away from his lips. “Yes, he’s nice enough. Not one of my boys, but nice enough. What did he say?”

“Well. Uh, that there were a bunch of cults in town to elder gods.”

“True,” Ashesh said. “I mean, it’s not something most people talk about, because they don’t have to, and I’m surprised he trusted an outsider that much that quickly. Then again, you are Grace’s boy.”

Jay let out a nervous laugh. “I guess so,” he said. “I’m sort of trying to figure some things out about that.”

“Have you explored Grace’s house yet?” Ashesh asked, lifting a brow.

There was a pointed edge to that comment that gave Jay pause. “I’ve started to,” he said, with a touch more caution. “But I sort of feel like I have to split my time. Grace was obviously an important figure in this community.”

“Right, for sure,” Ashesh said, his tone gone thoughtful. “She willed you the house and everything in it, though. You’ve been at least to all the rooms?”

“I… haven’t been to the attic yet,” Jay said. He leaned back in the chair, watching Ashesh with a thrill as he licked the rim of his cup, eyes fixed on Jay’s face. “Everywhere else I’ve at least been through.”

Ashesh nodded, lips curving against the rim. “I’ve housesat for her before, so I know what you’re dealing with. Messy place. Hard to figure out where to start.”

“You housesit for a lot of people?” Jay asked.

“It’s a hobby,” Ashesh said, grinning again. He put his cup down on the table, leaning toward Jay, his hands sliding down his thighs as if to smooth his trousers. “Here, maybe I can help you.”

“Help me—?”

Ashesh turned one of his hands over, and Jay saw that he was holding a set of keys. “Here,” he said lightly, tossing them.

Jay failed to catch them, and put the half-finished cup down as he bent to pick them up instead. “What’s this?”

“The keys she loaned me before she left,” Ashesh said. “I don’t know if your set is complete, but I doubt it. These should help get you into a few places that you might not otherwise be able to.”

Sure enough, there were four keys on the ring, not just the two he’d had. “Thanks,” he said, surprised. “I have had a bit of trouble with locks.”

Ashesh nodded, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over his knee. “As well as the duplicates to the ones I assume you already have, that should help you in the attic and the office,” he said. “Grace would want you to be able to get around there; it’s just that she wouldn’t have wanted to risk others getting into it before you.”

“She didn’t trust others, but she trusted you?” Jay asked. He flushed a little. “I don’t mean to say that she wouldn’t! If you housesat for her, obviously there’s that, just, I don’t really know what her relationship was with anyone here. Everyone’s said she didn’t play favorites or take sides, so—”

“I’m not offended,” Ashesh said lightly. “I don’t think she was stupid enough to trust me, but she knows I meant her no harm.” He rose, stretching, then took a couple of quick steps over to Jay.

Jay squirmed as Ashesh put his hands on the arms of the chair, blockading him in with his slim body. This close, he was overwhelming; he smelled of the coffee he’d been brewing, all strong grounds and sweet cardamom, and he blocked the overhead light, casting Jay in shadow. “I—what are you…?”

Ashesh’s lips brushed Jay’s forehead lightly, sending a rush of heat through his body. “You’re delightful,” Ashesh said.

And then he tapped Jay’s leg with a book he was, apparently, holding. Jay hadn’t seen him pick it up, but he took it obediently. “You might find this useful,” Ashesh said cheerily, and stood up again.

Jay tried to catch his breath, staring down at the book with his cheeks burning. The title was The Laws of the Dead, and its author someone named Abdul Alhazred, who Jay hadn’t heard of previously. “What’s this?”

“It’ll answer your questions. Not about the specific cults here, but in general, it’s a good collection of information, if not always accurate. Maybe too much information for your purposes,” Ashesh said. He stretched again, his t-shirt riding up to show a small stretch of stomach that Jay tried not to stare fixedly at. “It’s basically an encyclopedia. Once you’ve got something to go off of—a few names of cults, servants, gods, and all that—and you’ll be able to learn more without having to go around grilling literally everyone and getting yourself in trouble.”

“Where did—how did—” Jay’s voice cracked.

“Finish your coffee,” Ashesh said, tone mischievous.

Blushing hard, Jay picked up his cup again and downed it, sucking what beverage was left between his teeth and leaving the grounds behind, though his mouth came away gritty regardless. He swallowed, and put the cup on the table. “…Thank you,” he said.

“You’re most welcome. Go and explore more before talking to me again,” Ashesh said. It was still in that light, playful tone, but there was a bit of finality to it, and Jay realized he was being dismissed.

If he’d had any doubts about that, he’d have lost them a moment later when Ashesh rose, taking both cups and putting them on his tray, then offering his free hand to help Jay up.

Fumbling keys and book, Jay took it. “But I can talk to you again?”

“Sure. Whenever I’m around, so long as you’re keeping things fresh and interesting.” Ashesh slid his hand out of Jay’s, then put an arm around him, steering him back toward the door. “Which is why I’m not sure I’ll enjoy talking to you too much more just yet. Open some locks, find some signs, talk to some more people, look some things up—any one of those things might give us a bit more of a common basis to talk about things with. As things are, you’ve barely gotten started, have you? But we don’t have much time left.”

Jay let himself be steered to the front porch again, then turned before Ashesh could get a hand on the door. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, your world will end soon,” Ashesh said. “I’d rather that not happen, but there’s only so much I can do.”

He said it so lightly, with that little smile lingering around his lips and his eyes twinkling, that Jay could hardly take it seriously. Still…

Jay put a hand on the door, resisting it closing. “One last thing?”

“Is it my phone number~? Oh, darling, you have to earn that, but I’m willing to answer your calls,” Ashesh said, almost purring.

Jay flushed again. “No. What—what cult are you in? Whose?”

“Oh, sweet child,” Ashesh said, an edge of mocking to his tone. “I’m not in a cult.”

And he shut the door.

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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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