“Are you sure the lady on the phone said the bookstore was in Craiger?” Gimble asked from the backseat of the car, studying the map he’d bought when they stopped for gas.
Mulder had been driving around Bowie, Maryland, for twenty minutes while Gimble navigated, which wasn’t easy to do when the town they were looking for wasn’t on the map.
Phoebe turned around in her seat and glared at Gimble. “Of course I am. It says it right here.” She held up the strip of paper she’d torn out of the Yellow Pages. “And I wrote down the directions she gave me on the back.”
Gimble rotated the map until it was upside down. “Yeah, well, I’ve never heard of a town that isn’t on a road map.”
“Maybe it’s small,” she said, refusing to give an inch.
“What did the woman say exactly?” Mulder asked.
Phoebe blew out a long breath. “That the store is on Route 320A—”
“We’re on 320A,” Gimble pointed out.
“I wasn’t finished,” she snapped. “On 320A near Powdermill Road.”
“Hold on,” Gimble said. “Powdermill Road is on here. Keep going straight and we should run right into it.”
The two-lane road was empty, and within minutes, Mulder spotted a metal road sign. WELCOME TO CRAIGER, MARYLAND.
Gimble shook his head. “What kind of town isn’t on a map?”
“A town we probably shouldn’t be visiting,” Mulder said.
“It’s right there.” Phoebe pointed at a peach-colored building on the corner. BEYOND BEYOND was hand-painted on the wood, in rainbow colors.
He turned into the gravel driveway and parked. He was the first person out of the car, and he peered through the front window. Long counters with glass cases beneath ran along the wall. One cash register was near the front, next to an arched doorway, with COFFEE BAR written above it in loopy script. The shelves along the walls displayed crystals, tarot cards, books, and candles.
“There’s a coffee bar inside,” Mulder said. “Who gets coffee at a bar?”
“Maybe it’s a joke.” Gimble hopped the curb and walked up to the window. He cupped his hands around his eyes with his nose an inch from the glass and looked inside. “This must be the right place. It’s full of candles and hippie junk.”
“I’m going in to check it out. I could use some caffeine.” Phoebe opened the door, and a lopsided wind chime jingled.
“We might as well go in, too.” Gimble shrugged and followed her, hanging back enough to check out her ass again.
The moment Mulder stepped inside, he was hit with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon, sickeningly sweet flowers, and patchouli. He coughed and fanned the air.
“It’s our signature blend of essential oils,” said a willowy woman with a mane of unruly blond curls framing her face. She breezed toward Mulder. “We call it Sacred Dream.”
Gimble glanced up from where he stood at a shelf, already toying with a head massager. The moment he saw the curvy woman with the wild hair, he gave her ass his full attention. At least he wasn’t looking at Phoebe’s anymore.
“It’s interesting,” Mulder said, referring to the noxious odor.
“I haven’t seen you in the shop before, and I never forget a face.” The woman winked at Mulder. “Corinda Howell. Psychic, medium, and co-owner of this beautiful sanctuary.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly self-conscious. “Fox Mulder.”
“What a powerful name.” She smiled.
Gimble rushed over and flicked his hair out of his eyes. “Gimble.”
Corinda raised an eyebrow. “That’s one I’ve never heard before.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s a family name.”
“And that’s Phoebe.” Mulder nodded in her direction, but she wasn’t paying attention. Not to them, anyway.
Under the archway, Phoebe was talking to one of the tallest men Mulder had ever seen. He didn’t look as old as their parents—maybe thirty? But the guy’s dark hair and confident posture reminded him of a movie star from the 1950s. Phoebe stared up at him like she was hypnotized.
Even if Mulder and Phoebe weren’t together, he wasn’t okay with some random older guy hitting on her. He strode over to them, with Gimble on his heels. When he reached the archway, he slid his arm around Phoebe’s waist and thrust his other hand at the tall asshole talking to her. “Mulder.”
Phoebe looked at Mulder like he was insane.
The tall guy towered over him, and Mulder expected him to make a dominant tough-guy move. Instead the guy studied him with the gentle eyes of an old soul.
“Sunlight.” The man’s voice sounded smooth, like liquid silver.
“What about it?” Mulder asked.
“I’m it,” the movie star said.
“Sunlight is his name,” Phoebe said.
“That’s even weirder than mine,” Gimble said, joining the conversation. “Name’s Gimble, by the way. Your parents really named you that?”
Sunlight smiled. “I named myself.”