During Lewis's time in the hospital a construction team worked fast on the water, smoke, and fire damage to the Graham family's house. The work wasn't complete yet, but they had progressed far enough that Lewis and his family were able to move back in. Lewis's room was still a disaster zone. His dad set up a blowup mattress for him in the living room.

Lewis plopped down on the mattress, testing it out. It was too firm at the moment, but it was still better than a hospital bed. He knew it would deflate slowly throughout the night, anyway. Having just concluded their first family dinner in forever, Lewis's dad was making himself an after-dinner coffee.

His father made an exasperated sigh. "Who used all the sugar?" he asked.

"Don't look at me," said Jenny.

"I've only been home an hour," said Lewis. Mr. Gray must have stopped by for a snack.

"Maybe the construction workers have been using it," said his mother.

His dad sipped his coffee, black, and made a face. He'd been grumpy a lot recently. Lewis felt bad for adding to his stress a lot since Mr. Gray first appeared. He took one more sip then walked straight to the kitchen and poured the whole cup down the drain. "I'm going to bed," he said. It was seven o'clock.

Reunited with A Secret History of Parcae, Lewis was finally able to read some more while he waited for the rest of his family to turn in for the night. He hoped to glean a little bit more about the way the Parcae did their manipulation. How likely is it that Mr. Gray is lying to me? The Parcae seemed to follow a loose set of rules for dealing out their guidance: They couldn't tell their subject what their destiny was or what choices would lead to major changes in their fate. They couldn't change the fate of a non-Chosen individual directly, but they could indirectly change anyone's destiny by leading a Chosen down a different path. Hitler was a good example of that.

The Parcae weren't supposed to reveal themselves to non-Chosen people, although that rule was sometimes broken in order to prove a point to a Chosen. One Parca in particular named Mendacius had on many occasions revealed himself to non-Chosen to scare them, just for fun. He was eventually punished for his antics, but not before scaring people into believing in ghosts and demons all across the mortal timeline.

There were some notes about the Agares as well—the species that Mr. Gray claimed was trying to snip humanity from existence. Being inter-dimensional like the Parcae, they'd gathered various creatures from other realms that were of use to them. Within their ranks fought shapeshifters, giants, vampiric ghasts, fear-inducing empaths called dreadnaughts, and many other terrors that formed the roots of dozens of the most horrifying myths and legends known to mankind. The text had a picture of what appeared to be a bearded, pointy-faced old man riding a crocodile. According to the caption, the Agares' reptilian mounts were something like the mythical basilisk. They had the ability to temporarily freeze the passage of time with their mere presence.

Notably, the Parcae were not affected by the basilisks. It had something to do with them coming from the Beyond and not truly being part of the stream of time that the basilisks were freezing.

The Agares were described as Mr. Gray had purported. They wanted to repurpose the energy that the various realms ran on. The only thing standing in their way was the unpredictable nature of the Chosen.

After about an hour, Lewis's mom went to bed early. Jenny went up to her room as well, leaving Lewis to make his escape.

He wasn't being directed by Mr. Gray this time. His ribs were still bruised and sore. He had to move slowly to avoid wincing in pain as he got up from the air mattress. Every step was a trial of will. He took out a blue hoodie from a box of old clothing his mom had retrieved for him from out of the attic. It was worn out, but he didn't have much of a selection when it came to autumn clothing. The fire had taken his whole wardrobe. He pulled it on gently over his head and tip-toed over to the side door.

It barely made a sound as it clicked open. Lewis slipped out into the night. He'd never retrieved his bicycle from Jeremy's house—not that he would have been able to ride it with the state his ribs were in. He set out on foot to Josie's house.

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He eyed the creepy house suspiciously as he passed. The halfway boarded-up windows always made him feel like he was being watched. He shook it off and continued towards Josie's.

His mind wandered to the earthy scent of her hair—he'd gotten a whiff of it when she'd laid her head on him in gym class. It smelled like standing in the forest just after a hard rain. Little puddles filling in his footprints; the water still rippling as droplets fell from the glistening leaves overheard. Saturated earth. It was like a memory, but not of any specific time. It was funny how a smell could do that—even just the memory of a smell. Such a vivid experience all tied up into a neat little bundle like a universal truth; nostalgia. He missed the essence of Josie, though admittedly, he barely even knew her. Still, he felt drawn to her.

When he got to Josie's street, a wave of panic rushed over him: A police car was sitting outside her house. After coming home to the fire, an emergency vehicle outside of his destination was a triggering sight. An officer was just saying goodbye to Mr. Mays as Lewis ran up. The officer eyed Lewis suspiciously.

Mr. Mays waved the cop off. "Hello, Lewis," he said, a grim expression on his face.

"Is everything okay?" he asked

Mr. Mays shook his head. The worried knot in Lewis's chest clenched harder.

"Come in," said Mr. Mays, "I'll explain."

Lewis stepped into the silent house, a sense of dread enveloping him.

"Josie's gone missing," said Mr. Mays. "A note was left, but... it's easier to show you." He led Lewis upstairs to Josie's room.

The first thing Lewis noticed before he even entered was the overturned desk chair and unusual clutter all across the floor. It wasn't the normal mess of a teenage girl's room—there had been a struggle.

"Don't touch anything," Mr. Mays warned as Lewis stepped into the room.

Lewis stepped gingerly around the mess surveying everything for anything that would tell him more about what had happened. He found blood smeared on Josie's bedding and pillow—a lot of blood. His heart sank even further.

"Here," said Mr. Mays from behind him.

Lewis turned around to see him pointing at the wall beside the door. A message was scrawled in blood: "Fate is what you make it." He had no idea what to make of it. He'd seen enough. He stepped carefully back out of the room.

"Is there anything you can tell me," asked Mr. Mays.

Lewis shook his head. "I've been in the hospital for weeks," he said. "I haven't seen Josie since...." This couldn't be Landon, could it? It was a worrisome thought. He hadn't expected Landon to be capable of nearly killing him, and yet.... What else might he do for revenge?

"Since?" asked Mr. Mays.

"Since before I was in the hospital," said Lewis. "I'm sorry, I have to go. If I hear anything, you'll be the first one to know." He ran back down the stairs and out the front door. He wasn't sure if the idea that Landon could be involved with Josie's disappearance was ridiculous or not. He didn't want to say anything to anyone just yet—not without any evidence. He needed to see Landon himself and get a read on him.

Mr. Gray was waiting for him when he got to the end of the driveway. "You can never leave well enough alone," he said.