“Sky says poetry is the true language of the goddess. She exists everywhere,” Amanda babbled on as if reciting the words. “Originally, she was in the myths, obviously, then, when Christianity threatened to banish her, she appeared in the folk tales. The sleeping princess in her glass coffin, in her briar-covered castle. She’s shown up in the novel since the time of its conception, though. She may not have been called by name. And she’s in the songs of many female singer-songwriters. She’s even on reality television.”

Definitely high. Or just crazy: Izzy felt like she was talking to Leanne. Her head hurt. “Please stop,” she said.

“Were you looking for something?” Amanda asked. Had she narrowed her eyes when she said it?

“Just the restroom.”

“Down the hall,” Amanda said, pointing. “Are you staying for the ritual?”

What ritual? But Amanda didn’t wait for an answer.

“Sky’s the real deal. A mystagogue. That means someone who teaches the mysteries. A hierophant. That’s another word for it. Really.” Her smile vanished, and she lowered her eyes. “I had a big loss too,” she said. “My first baby died. Sky nursed me through it.”

Izzy felt the blood drain from her face and put a hand to her abdomen to touch the phantom pain, remembering her own loss. What would have happened if her baby hadn’t died in the womb? Would everything be different between her and Cyrus? Would he still be alive now? “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Izzy said.

“I’m better now. I have Kurt! I didn’t want to make you sad. I just wanted to let you know it’s good you’re here and I understand.”

Izzy nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said again. And walked away.

◆◆◆

After she’d used the restroom, Izzy stepped back out into the hallway. She remembered walking around this house the first time. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for then, but her feet just moved her forward. Ever since Cyrus’s vanishing, she had been restless for answers. But it seemed there were no answers. Except perhaps a clue in the video someone—maybe those red-haired children—had played in Bombay Beach and in what Jody had said.

Izzy’s footsteps sounded on the tile, and she walked as lightly as possible, carefully trying a number of doors. They were locked.

Then, at the end of the hall, she tried a door painted with a large golden eye; this door opened.