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“Huh.” The cat woman tilted her head. “What brings a god to my cemetery?”

Odd how she couldn’t quite put her finger on what I was, or he was, but maybe it was a difference in her perception along the lines ofa cat may look at a king. Then again, lots of folks mistook us for gods when we weren’t exactly. Probably I was thinking too hard. “What could tempt you to answer our questions?”

“Your souls?” A wicked smile spread across her rosy cheeks. “Just kidding.” She tapped a finger against her chin with a low hum. “How about this? Agree to deliver fifty pounds of dry cat food a month to this address for the next year. That would satisfy my requirements.”

Hesitant to question our luck, I failed as curiosity won out. “I thought nekomata only ate souls.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” She laughed at my expression. “It’s for the strays in the city. I feed them.”

“That’s kind of you.” Kierce glanced overhead as Badb sailed past. “We accept your bargain.”

Curious what put the crinkle in his brow, I decided it was just Badb being Badb when it came to cats.

Lucky for us, no one else could speak to her. As long as she kept to the skies, we might pull this off.

“Excellent.” She hopped onto the nearest bench and swung her legs. “Then ask away.”

When Kierce remained silent, I took the hint. “Does the name Sugar Brown mean anything to you?”

“That was the password for the last auction.”

“Ah.” A beat of excitement pounded in my chest. “Do you recall what items were on offer?”

“Tons of trinkets.” She lifted a narrow shoulder. “Most of it junk. Some of it legit.”

“Nothing stood out to you?” I waited until she shook her head to ask, “What was the hook?”

Regardless of the quality of the rest of the items, there was always one legitimate piece meant to snare the attention of serious collectors with seriously deep pockets.

“The finger bone of some saint or other. It was supposed to grant its owner immortality.”

That wasn’t the type of object Vi would want for herself, or as an investment piece, so it must not have been the draw. Which meant we needed to learn all we could, including who had won what, just in case a purchased item held the key to disbanding the parade.

“Can you be more specific?” Kierce shifted his weight. “The bones of saints are sold the world over.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make it right that people got chopped up for parts like stolen cars.

“They all sound the same to me.” The nekomata twitched her lips in a smile. “I do remember the name of the guy who won. Hard to forget. It appealed to the feline in me. Kitt Gato.”

Kitt Gato.

The crime-solving cat who belonged to the titular character in Dis Pater’s cozy mystery series.

A roaring filled my ears as implications tumbled through my mind, deafening me to my surroundings.

Until the screams began.

Spirits begged me, pleaded with me, cursed me. Their grasping fingers sank into my flesh, digging at me. I couldn’t shake them off, couldn’t block them out. They clamored for my attention, tunneling my vision until their spectral hands were all I could see.

“Enough.”

Kierce spoke the word like a promise of violence, and the dead cowered from him in fear.

“Thanks.” As hearing and sight returned to me, I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. “Haven’t had one of those in a minute.”

The fits were less common now than when I was alive, but Kierce had warned me I couldn’t master them until I figured out the root cause: what the dead wanted from me.

“Breathe through it.” He stroked a hand down my back. “It’s all right.”