The well had been dry for years. Bob knew because he'd dropped a rock down it once, counted to twelve, and never heard it hit water. But tonight, something glinted at the edge of the stones. A coin. Not like any he'd seen before. It was heavier than it should be, warm to the touch—warm like the device Petunia had found in the middle of the road. The symbol on one side was a spiral with a line through it, like a galaxy caught mid-turn. Petunia's ears shot forward. Her tail went still. She wasn't growling. She was listening. Bob turned the coin over. The other side was smooth except for a single word: RENO. "Reno?" Bob whispered. Petunia whined low in her chest. They found Johnny Maverick in the Dawghouse parking lot, leaning against his truck, staring at his phone. Bob held out the coin without a word. Johnny took it. His face went pale under the parking lot lights. "Where'd you get this?" "Old well. Behind the Whitfield place." Johnny turned the coin over. His thumb traced the spiral. "I've seen this before," he said quietly. "Tour bus in Reno. Three years ago. A woman handed it to me after a show. Said I'd know what to do with it when the time came." "What did you do with it?" "Threw it in a tip jar." Petunia sat down hard, her body blocking Bob from the truck door. She wasn't moving. Johnny looked at the coin, then at the dog, then at the darkening sky over Okanogan. "She knows something," Bob said. Johnny nodded slowly. "They always do." From the direction of the Whitfield house, a low hum began. Petunia's ears swiveled. The coin in Johnny's hand pulsed once, warm. "It's starting," Johnny said. And he didn't mean the night.