“How did we miss this?” he questions beside me.

We didn’t.

“I don’t know.” I try pulling it back up on my phone, but now when I search for the internet listing I read earlier, it’s not there. As if by appearing in the physical world, Fortune’s Gate has disappeared from the online one.

“Let’s go inside.” I unbuckle my seat belt and climb out of the car.

As we near the store, I see the giant moon decal across the plate-glass window. It blocks our view of the store’s interior. I cringe as the shadow of the awning slides over my skin with a fickle breeze. A sign over the door reads Fortune is a strange caller.

Daniel reaches out to open the door for me, but it doesn’t budge. “Huh. Locked.” He steps back.

I try it myself, as if maybe he just didn’t pull hard enough, but he’s right. It’s locked up tight. “That’s weird.”

He shrugs. “Maybe they went to lunch. Maybe that’s why we missed it before.”

“The whole store?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t know. I mean, we obviously overlooked it.”

He is reluctant to believe otherwise. I don’t blame him. Buildings don’t just come and go like people. But I am equally as reluctant to mistrust my own eyes.

“We can try another day,” he says, taking a second step back.

But I don’t want to chance it. Who says Fortune’s Gate will be here another day? I tap my jaw, thinking, and accidentally hit one of the bruises from my run-in with the Magician. It brings the whole encounter flooding back into my mind. But it also reminds me of something. I glance at the door for confirmation. “Hold on. Let me try one thing.”

I dig deep in the pocket of my cutoffs and pull out the key from that afternoon, the one the Magician urged me to take. It slips easily into the oversized keyhole that looks about a hundred years older than the rest of the door. It turns without resistance, and when I give the door a tug, it opens wide.

Daniel stares at me.

“It’s a skeleton key,” I say, as if that explains it. “After you.”

A cascade of bells goes off as we enter. Right away, I can smell peppermint, but laced over it is cinnamon and jasmine and patchouli, weaving a tapestry of fragrance that plucks at every corner of my aura. Instinctively, I take Daniel’s hand. He doesn’t draw back or act surprised, but instead laces his fingers through mine.