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lot like the Prince of Darkness himself? He’s got a nose that would have made the Medicis proud.”
    Skag raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea his appearance would matter. Isn’t that rather shallow of you?”
    “Right, I forgot, only men are allowed to be shallow.” She blew out an irritated breath. “Look, Skag, I’m tired. I just spent the evening pretending to be an old lady so I could watch William Bradford run a confidence game on the bereaved, not to mention I’ve got powder in my hair. I need to take a shower. Then I’ll check Delwin’s ad. Then I’m off duty for the rest of the night. Don’t even try to call me.”
    “Your Great-great-great-grandmother Maura also behaved the way you’re behaving,” Skag mused. “Testy. Easily annoyed.”
    “So it runs in the family. Sue me. Good night, Skag.”
    “Testy,” he murmured, his feet becoming transparent. “Definitely testy.”
    Rose watched him fade completely into the darkness before heading back upstairs. “Trust me, my see-through cousin,” she muttered, “you haven’t begun to see testy yet.”

Chapter 3
    Alana DuBois peered up into the opaque San Antonio sky, trying to get her bearings. When she’d gone into the storefront before the séance, the weather had been mostly clear and muggy, just a little drizzle. Now mist obscured the buildings on both sides of the street. Somehow it turned everything around—she couldn’t get her sense of direction to work.
    She flexed her shoulders, shaking off the niggling sense of uneasiness. Just fog. In a few moments, she’d figure out where she was. She peered toward some distant streetlights, considering which way she should turn at the intersection. The street signs were too dark to read.
    Her red velvet cloak tangled briefly around her ankles. Normally, she loved the sweeping contour the cloak created, but it could be a pain in the neck, particularly on a warm wet night. The hood started to slip again, and Alana jerked it back up, shivering.
    She wished she’d been able to drive to the storefront where the séance had taken place. But downtown San Antonio didn’t offer a lot of parking, even on a weeknight. She headed toward the bus stop.
    For a moment, she thought she heard the scrape of footsteps behind her, echoing up the street. Her chest tightened uncomfortably.
    “Oh, grow up,” she muttered. “What do you think it is? Ghosts?”
    Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she chuckled. Ghosts. Oh yes, that would certainly make her night. Her first real ghost after years in the business.
    Get a grip.
She tucked her purse more firmly under her arm. Muggers or rapists were much more likely than ghosts, particularly when she was dressed like Little Red Riding Hood. What thief could resist?
    She started walking again, more quickly this time, wrapping her hand tightly around the pepper spray attached to her keychain. She’d never used it, but there was always a first time. She only hoped she could remember which way to spray it so she didn’t get a face full of pepper oil.
    At the next corner she turned right, listening for footsteps but hearing nothing. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Overactive imagination. She took a deep breath. No one else was out walking on the street. She was just on her way home from work, like an average person.
    “Sylvia?”
    The voice seemed to come from directly behind her, a thin rasping whisper, like dry leaves skittering across a gravel road.
    Alana froze for a moment, swallowing hard, then picked up her pace. “I’m not Sylvia,” she muttered.
    No Sylvia here. No, siree. No Sylvia for several years now
. She stumbled slightly on a crack in the sidewalk, holding herself firmly in check to keep from running, her leg muscles tightening with the strain.
Just keep walking. Everything’s fine.
    “Sylvia?” the voice seemed to scrape across her skin like sandpaper. Ancient, desiccated. “Sylvia Morris?”
    Alana caught her breath.
No.
She’d never used that name