James and Ainsley's visit nagged at Connie. Why did Ainsley even come? She barely stayed and feigned only slight interest in seeing the house or listening to anything Connie said.

And James. The James she knew was a nuisance and busy body who took delight in cataloguing and dissecting every glimpse and utterance, and gleefully creating intrigue and drama out of trivialities. Unless he was now also regularly seeing a shrink, she doubted his penchant for meddling and rumormongering had disappeared with his couch potato physique. That he barely said a peep about Arden, or the gate in the fence, was completely out of character. And suspect.

When Grayson arrived, they sat under the oak tree in the back yard. He placed Ida's notebook on the table. "There you go. I'm truly sorry. I'll even get down on my knees if you can forgive me."

"Stop the histrionics. You're worse than James."

"So, he and Ainsley brought the lithograph."

"Yes, they were delightful." Connie raised her eyebrows, "You see a lot of Ainsley?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's hardly my type."

Connie shrugged, "She left a different impression. But whatever. Right now I want you to tell me what it is that you're so anxiously looking for."

"Sure, I will. But first, I want you to explain the lightening bolt hieroglyphic. I think it's something related to you and the flaming sword in the old lithograph, isn't it?"

Connie paused. Uncertain how to go forward. "Yes. It was sort of a short form Findley used sometimes for me. I don't know why he put it in his notes. I thought if I interpreted the Roman numerals for you, you could take it from there. I'm just so done with Findley's stuff, playing the role of the little scribe. And you haven't helped with your, 'oh sorry, Connie, some of this is privileged information only for us learned archaeologists.' I should have told you about the hieroglyphic earlier. It's just me being petulant. Okay, now your turn."

Connie wondered if her explanation sounded remotely plausible.

Grayson grinned, "Petulant. Bravo, Connie. Good for you."

"Don't patronize me."

"Ah, still testy. But that's good. Coming out of your shell a little."

Connie frowned, "Your turn, Grayson."

"Okay, but all kidding aside, you must promise not to speak to anyone about what I tell you." Those words had a familiar ring to Connie. "Findley was following a hunch he had about an ancient legend. In the last years he was supported handsomely by a wealthy patron to follow that hunch."

"Yeah. The mysterious patron. Findley was quite secretive about him. And a little nervous, it seemed. Is he still funding you?"

"I convinced him to let me keep going for a few more seasons. Findley kept saying odd things that made me think he'd discovered something that last year he was at the site. I thought that once I had complete access to all of Findley's notes, I could uncover what he found."

"You're still not telling me what you're looking for."

"You'll laugh when I tell you. It's a sort of version of the Leprechaun's pot of gold." Grayson smirked. "I think you know more than you're telling me. If you trust me, you could be the beneficiary of considerable wealth. I'm quite serious."

There was something in Grayson's gaze and manner that Connie had never seen before. She couldn't judge what it was and felt caught in some elaborate game of cat and mouse with him that she would be sure to lose.

"What does my mother's notebook have to do with it?"

"You tell me."

Connie stood.

"I don't know what you want, Grayson. And you know what? I'm still pretty upset with you. As I'm still upset with my mother, who lied to me about my father. You read it. That he was some kind of weirdo illegal refugee with goofy eyes like mine. I'm still processing all that and, right now, I'd like you to go."

Grayson frowned.

Connie continued, "I'll look at the notebook again and think about what she wrote, and we can talk about it another time."

Grayson slowly stood, "Of course, all right. We'll talk again soon." He gentled his voice. "Connie, I know you may not think so, but you've had a pretty sheltered life. Uncovering what Findley discovered, could have some big, real-world ramifications. I can help you navigate that." He did his head tilting move. "You need to be aware that Findley's patron is a powerful man. If he believes you know something that Findley kept from us, he could bring considerable pressure on you. If you trust me, I can prevent that."

As Connie watched Grayson leave, it triggered a reminder about the dance James and Ainsley had done, keeping her separated from James at different points and how closely scrunched up to the table he was when she and Ainsley came out of the house. She ducked down, looked underneath, and straightened up quickly. When she stood up, the gate was ajar a few inches and Pria was standing in the opening.

Connie motioned for Pria to be quiet and wait. She went into the house and came back with pen and paper and wrote:

'Can you read?'

Pria smiled and nodded yes. Then Connie wrote:

'Don't talk. Meet me at the ravine steps. 30 minutes. No phone. Nod okay.'

Pria took her time, nodded, and closed the gate.

"Follow me," Connie told Pria thirty minutes later at the ravine steps. She hurried them along the trail in the opposite direction of the pond to an overflow spot on the creek. The sun was low in the sky.

Connie spoke softly over the splashing water, "I hope it's safe to talk here. I thought the noise would provide cover. I don't really know what I'm doing, I only know about espionage stuff from the movies. Did you hear what Grayson said?"

"I did and, earlier, those other people. He's the stepbrother you told me about? And the woman?"

"Yeah. That's him. And the evil stepsister Ainsley. I'm still trying to process this Dahria stuff, but the way Grayson and Tweedledum and Tweedledee are acting is very strange."

"Tweedledum and Tweedledee?"

"Oh, James and Ainsley, my kid nicknames for them," Connie shook her head. "I think they played me. I found some little gizmo stuck under my table in the back. It might be a bug, you know a device to listen in remotely on conversations. I don't know. I wish I knew more about this stuff. I left it there so they wouldn't know I found it. James may have put something in the house too, though I haven't located it."

Pria looked alarmed, "How long ago? Someone's been listening to your conversations with us?"

Connie continued excitedly, "I don't know. I'm thinking James only put it there this morning. His odd behavior and cyber-security talk got me anxious. And the weird way they acted. I think they came to bug my house. And maybe after seeing me talking to Arden through the open gate, James thought to plant a bug at the table? Or, what if it was Grayson? He's been in my backyard a few times and in my house. I'm so stupid about these things."

"They're all friends with each other?"

"Good question. I didn't think so, but they seem to be in touch a lot. And that threatening stuff Grayson said about Findley's patron makes me uneasy. I don't know who the man is. Findley never even told me his name. And it wasn't important to me, but it sure is now. I need to find out what this is all about."

Pria spoke briskly, "We know some. His name is Hastings. He's a wealthy man who made his money in mining. For the last decade or so, he's been funding archaeological digs near sites with legends about openings to other realms. In fact, many of them were once passages to Dahria, but closed millennia ago. Findley uncovered a little-known Irish legend related to his site that caught Hastings' attention. But the dig was far enough away from the passage that some argued it was safe. That's changed."

"Where I felt the trance? Arden said that passage is likely closed."

"It should be."

"I handed over the coordinates to Grayson."

Pria exclaimed, "What?!? What are you saying?"

"In the notebook of Findley's that I found, he wrote the GPS coordinates of where I was standing when I felt the trance, the signaling, start. And I gave Grayson the notebook and decoded the coordinates. When I did, I didn't understand about signaling and passages and everything. I feel terrible."

"That passage should be closed by now. They won't catch any Dahrians coming or going. But that's troubling. We'll need to make sure as soon as we get back." ­

"I take it that you can't just open and close passages willy-nilly?"

"Once a passage is closed, we can't reopen it. And only a signaler can close a passage. And there aren't many of you left."

"You're not a signaler?"

"No, Eneko and Arden are. Well, Arden was. The ability disappears as you get older."

"But you can use passages?"

"We came with Eneko and will return with him. He helped Arden come through." Pria put her hands on Connie's shoulders, "You understand what has to happen now? If there's even the smallest hint that those men suspect something. We have to leave."

"And close the passage here in the ravine?"

"Yes. That was always the plan. They're all being closed."

Connie stuttered, "You know what this means for me."

Things were moving too quickly for Connie. The small piece of comfort she had been slowly nurturing in her new little neighborhood was blowing apart.

Arden's appearance was a jolt and the Dahria stories hard to accept, but the simple truth was that she liked the Dahrians and was warming to bringing them into her life. She had decided to keep an open mind about Dahria – even if it all seemed fantastical. She would let the conversations unfold a little bit at a time. To have that now end so abruptly was upsetting.

But James, Ainsley, and particularly, Grayson were up to something. How much they knew or suspected or had overheard about Dahria and her Dahrian abilities and connections, she didn't know. But the sooner the passage closed, the better to rule out the chance of using her or Eneko to gain Earthside access to Dahria. The Dahrians needed to leave and close the passage without being followed. She would run decoy Connie decided.

Pria pushed back, "Arden won't leave without you."

"We'll make it sound like I'm going with you."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"You must, it's the only way this will work. You know that, Pria. I'm sorry. I just can't do it. It frightens me. It's all too much. Too fast. Besides, this way, I can help ensure that you'll get back safely and close the passage."