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A rmed with the only solid lead we had left, that the afflicted had congregated at Lafayette Cemetery No. 2, Kierce and I caught a Swyft to Washington Avenue. He had warmed up fast to using the rideshare app as our primary mode of transportation, probably because it didn’t require him to sit behind a wheel.

Five minutes later, we climbed in an SUV, and fifteen minutes after that, we stepped out to a party at St. Joseph Cemetery. Most of New Orleans, even after death, loved a reason to put on the dog.

Since St. Joseph’s was still open to the public, it made for a less conspicuous drop-off point, and it was only a block away from our actual destination.

“We should get dinner after we finish here.” Kierce trailed his fingers down the back of my arm. “You’re not eating enough. Sweets don’t count. You don’t have to starve yourself until we get Matty back.”

“Hmm? Yeah. Dinner.” I examined the street, searching for any spirits I knew. “That could be nice.”

His huff of a laugh promised I hadn’t fooled him with my distracted response.

“Do you think Anunit is okay?” I tensed like she might prowl out of the shadows after hearing her name. “She was pretty burned out from helping.”

“As the spirit of a divine being, I believe she would have retreated to one of the cemeteries to rest.”

“She commandeered Harrow to get to New Orleans.” Her travel range must not be great without a body to ride in. But that couldn’t be right. She zipped straight to me when I was swept away to Dis Pater’s house. Why would coming to New Orleans be any different? No. There must be another reason why she decided to borrow him. “If she doesn’t return to Vi’s soon, we’ll have to hunt her down.”

We couldn’t risk leaving her here, or she might kidnap some other poor soul and wear them home.

“We could ask Pascal to make inquiries, but we don’t want to call attention to her while she’s weak.”

“You’re right.” I pushed those concerns aside for the time being. “That’s a worry for another day.”

At Lafayette Cemetery No. 2, we climbed the fence and landed with a fresh purpose in the middle of what was clearly a rivalry between the two cemeteries to see which one could party the hardest.

As far as afterlives went, hedonism wasn’t a bad way to spend one.

“Divide and conquer?” I noticed a few spirits shying away from Kierce and knew we had to be cautious. “You can take the left, and I’ll take the right.”

A long caw rent the air, comforting me that Badb was in the skies watching over us.

Kierce must have told her where to meet us, since I hadn’t noticed her trailing us earlier.

With more confidence than I felt, I peeled off to the right in search of spirits eager to chat.

“You’re a neck-romancer,” a dark-eyed girl asked, hiding behind a tree. “You romance ghosts, right?”

“Um.” The kid might have been eight or nine, and her clothes placed her death in the eighties. “I’m more of a neck-friendancer.” I rubbed a finger between my eyes. “I’m friends with ghosts. That’s what I meant to say. I have a boyfriend. Who’s alive.” As far as I could tell. “So. Hi. I’m Frankie. Nice to meet you.”

“With lines like that, I believe you.” She burst into bubbling giggles. “I’m Tina.” She craned her slim neck, which seemed longer than it had been a minute ago. “What brings you to the cemetery? Are you looking for someone?”

“I have a few questions for anyone who might have seen or heard anything about a recent auction.”

Recent kept the time frame vague enough I could hope a spirit would remember, but it was a crapshoot.

“Those happen all the time.” She teased her hair-sprayed bangs to even greater heights. “You’ll have to be more specific.” She shook glitter off her fishnet-gloved hand. “Ghosts aren’t great with time anyway.”

A niggle in the back of my mind prompted me to pay closer attention.

I could have sworn she was younger than ten when she made the neck-romancer comment, but her face seemed thinner than when I had first noticed her. Up close, she also appeared taller. Almost like she was aging in front of me. Her self-awareness struck me as peculiar too.

Most ghosts had a loose grip on time made worse by the fact they didn’t realize how fast it slipped past them, but she was aware.

And the longer we talked, the more her speech and posture altered with subtle but visible tweaks.

“You’re not a spirit,” I said, taking a shot in the dark.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t bumped into one of my kind yet.” She laughed, delighted. “Am I your first?”

Definitely maturing before my eyes, but I wasn’t sure how she managed the trick. Spirits could alter their appearances, but to change so much? Had she been playing at being a kid and was older? I could see her using that trick to attract prey…

Oh.

Crap.

She lowered part of her glamour, revealing green slitted cat eyes, which she winked at me.

“You’re a nekomata.” I jolted at the realization. “Definitely my first.”

Nekomata were cats who gained the ability to shapeshift into humans and could then feast on their souls. Few cats achieved what was, for them, a sort of divinity. Parasitic though it may be.

“I’m honored then.” Her smile grew more pointed with needlelike teeth. “Hunting is good here, so I’m always around. Funerals are a particular draw, and auctions aren’t so bad either.”

“What do you know about the last auction?”

“Offer me a good deal—” she flexed her fingers, and tiny claws pierced their tips, “—and I’ll tell you.”

This was better news than I could have hoped for, in the sense she would know dates and times. Better than a spirit anyway. Which, honestly, might not be saying much. Still. It was worth a try. If I couldn’t get information out of her, there was an entire cemetery full of potential witnesses to canvass.

Carter would have been proud. I had almost sounded like a professional investigator there for a minute.

“What kind of deal?”

The cool voice washed over my shoulder as Kierce stepped up beside me, and I said, “Hi, honey.”

A faint stain painted his cheeks at the endearment, tempting me to tease him more often. “Hello.”

“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 of a 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.”

“Do you have seizures or something?” The nekomata wrinkled her nose. “That can’t be good for you.”

Kierce and I exchanged a puzzled glance, but it was clear she hadn’t heard the commotion.

Once I caught my breath, I asked, “Can you see spirits?”

The heavy plastic bangles on her wrists clanked together as she toyed with a bit of frizzy hair. “Yes.”

I had my doubts—there were definite gaps in her perception—but I only needed her help figuring out what happened here. And now I knew enough about that I considered her side of the bargain fulfilled.

“We appreciate your help.” Kierce tucked me under his arm, helping me support myself, or maybe he wanted to keep me stuck to him so I couldn’t indulge in the temptation of grave-dirt uppers on my way out. “You’ll receive your first shipment on Monday.”

With a hop, she hit the ground, her form compacting into a calico cat that sashayed away, tail held high.

After she was out of sight, Kierce helped me to the stone bench she had vacated.

“Do you think we can trust her?” I was grateful for a place to sit. “I get the feeling she was lying. Not about everything, but here and there. For one thing, I don’t think she can see spirits.”

“I’m not sure.” He tilted his head in a birdlike way. “Her perception is different than ours, for certain.”

“Too bad Anunit isn’t here. She could confirm whether it’s a divine animal trait. That’s what nekomata are, right? Felines touched by divinity?”

“Nekomata can be created by something as simple as a god stroking a hand down a beloved cat’s back.”

“Ah.” I tried picturing Buttons, Dis Pater’s beloved pet, as a cat god but couldn’t. “So, the divine touch can be literal.”

A loud squawk alerted us to an incoming messenger. Or, based on how she cuddled Kierce after landing on his shoulder, maybe she was just jealous and wanted pets. With Badb, I had given up predicting her motives.

Especially since she and Kierce could communicate while she was in the air, making landing for updates moot.

“She says there are spirits in a mausoleum at the rear of the property worth talking to before we go.”

“Okay.” I pushed to my feet. “Let’s check them out.”

“Are you up for it?” Concern sat heavy in his voice, but we couldn’t risk talking about it here. Dis Pater could have ears everywhere. Though, I suppose, Kierce counted in that number too. An unsettling reminder I could have done without. “I could go if you need to rest.”

“No rest for the weary.” I offered him a hand up, smiling when he put no weight behind his pull as he stood. “We need answers. Preferably before midnight. I want to try our luck extracting Vi tonight.”

“All right.” He jerked his chin at Badb, who nodded then flew away. “She’ll guide us.”

A few rows away, we came across a mausoleum stacked nine high and nine wide with vaults. Before health and life insurance gained popularity, it was common practice to belong to a benevolent society that provided members’ families with cash for funeral expenses and resting places upon their deaths. Badb landed on the cross topping this battered example of a society tomb, and her flight earned us the attention of four toughs who looked like they ate small children rolled into their breakfast burritos. Or had, when they were alive.

Prickly magic radiated off the marble into the surrounding air, brushing against us as we drew closer. The steady pulse of it convinced me the structure had been warded recently. Perhaps in the last week. That must have been what caught Badb’s attention.

The musclebound spirits, oddly enough, exuded similar energy signatures.

“Keep moving, lady.” Tough One cracked his knuckles. “This ain’t no sightseeing tour.”

“You heard him.” Tough Two elbowed his friend. “Feel free to tip your guide, though.”

“How about you lift that shirt?” Tough Three suggested. “I got some beads for you, if you do.”

Faster than he could smirk to his buddies, Kierce palmed Three’s throat and squeezed until the spirit’s eyes bulged in shock. Souls got used to the idea they were untouchable by the living. Kierce was simply reminding him he wasn’t as impervious as he thought. “What are you guarding?”

“You can’t just waltz in here and— Gack .” Tough Four dangled, his feet scrabbling above the dirt, while Kierce held him aloft by his collar. “Put…me…down.”

“The thing is, fellas, my boyfriend takes offense to perverts asking his girlfriend to flash them.” I pretended to sympathize. “You guys don’t strike me as the kind of men who are hired for their brains, so I’ll point out what you should have noticed from the start. We’re gods .”

Okay, fine. So, I spent a lot of time telling people I wasn’t a god and neither was he. But these toughs had no clue what we were, or they would have hesitated. Maybe not dropped their routine, since I was sure it had proven effective in the past, but hit pause for a second or two.

“That’s what that shiny thing means?” One looked taken aback. “I thought it was a costume.”

“You get a lot of people like us in costume—” I cut myself off, remembering where we were and how often masquerades were held in the city. “The point is, we can see you, hear you, and punt your asses into the great beyond if you don’t cooperate.”

“Chill, man.” Two shook out his shoulders, glaring at Kierce. “Ain’t no need for violence.”

“Let’s talk,” Three agreed, like they hadn’t been the ones who started it, “like civilized people.”

With that, Kierce released them, but he stood close enough his threat never wavered.

Happy they saw reason so quickly, I pressed, “What are you guarding?”

“Mumbo jumbo that didn’t move in the last auction.” One knocked against the nearest vault. “Leftover junk is always sold at cost to a dealer. He’s coming through to pick it up tomorrow or the next night.”

That was one way to keep inventory fresh, but trusting spirits to deliver was risky. “Who’s the dealer?”

“Dunno.” Three shrugged his beefy shoulders. “Boss don’t like it when we ask questions.”

Picking up where I left off, Kierce took a menacing step closer. “Who is your boss?”

“Desmond Patel.” One flinched when Kierce’s attention fell on him. “He writes them children’s books.”

Desmond Patel? Dis Pater’s pen name? That was nearly as bad as using Kitt Gato as an alias.

Either this was a spectacular frame job, or Dis Pater wanted to get caught.

But caught doing what, exactly?

“Um.” A laugh got trapped in my throat. “I think you mean cozy mysteries.”

“They got kitties on the cover,” Four argued. “They must be for little kids.”

“Sure. Fine. Doesn’t matter.” Dis Pater’s branding choices weren’t our problem. “Do you remember the last auction?”

“Yeah.” One tapped the side of his head. “We gotta have sharp memories to do our job, don’t we?”

Now that was interesting, but it did make sense. I wasn’t sure how you could grant a soul the ability to perceive time without driving them insane in the long run, but Dis Pater wouldn’t be concerned with any fallout over his gifts, and this group wasn’t quick enough to fear what that type of awareness might do to them as decades slipped past. Perhaps that explained why their energy signatures mirrored the vault.

Thanks to the nekomata, I already had an idea, but I asked them anyway in the hope they could offer more insight. “What was the big-ticket item?”

“A finger bone.” Two shuddered. “Came from a saint or something.”

“But it was cursed.” Three tried to cross himself, but it looked more like a square to me. “Nasty thing.”

Plenty of religious icons ended up cursed from a misuse of their powers, so that didn’t surprise me. “What kind of curse?”

“Dunno,” One said, checking with the others, who had no clue either.

“Walk me through it.” I rolled my wrist in a circular motion. “What, exactly, did you all do that night?”

“We handle security for events the boss attends,” Two explained, pensive. “We protect his interests.”

“How does that work?” I didn’t want to come off as rude, but it was a valid question. “You’re all…”

Invisible to most. Intangible too. Not a great combo for deterrents.

“He makes us so we can touch people. And things. That’s how he pays us.” One slid a hand through his hair. “We can even eat if we want, but the food don’t taste like nothing.”

“That’s right.” Four snapped his fingers. “The boss wanted help with refreshments this time. Not our job, but sure. Whatever. He told us to make sure everyone had a drink in their hand for some toast or another.”

Everyone had a drink in their hand.

The toast almost guaranteed even the teetotalers sipped once for show.

Could the answer be that simple?

Hope thumping in my chest, I pressed for more details. “What kind of refreshments?”

“Boss had lemonade brought in from some fancy-pants restaurant. Real fine stuff. Barrels of it.” Two wiped a hand over his mouth. “Then he put the finger in the lemonade. Left it in each barrel for a minute or two, gave it a stir, then resealed them.”

“It was a bone.” Three frowned at Two’s obvious distaste. “Not like it was fresh with blood or tendons or nothing.”

“Okay.” I was grossed out, but I had heard of worse. “Do you know why?”

“Yeah.” Four made it seem obvious. “He always does a demo for the spendy ones.”

Providence was required as well as proof the objects did as they were meant to, but it also depended on how demonstrable their effect was. “What was the demonstration?”

“The bone makes its owner live forever,” Three stated, making out like that was any kind of answer.

“What happened,” I said slowly, hoping for clarity, “to everyone who drank the lemonade?”

“Nothing.” Three eyed me funny. “They drank it and went home.”

They drank it, went home, and later—I was willing to bet—every single one of them lost their soul.

The bizarre parade was a manifestation of the people ensnared at the auction. I had no idea whether Dis Pater had dreamed it up or if its form was linked to the saint’s identity. That made more sense, now that I thought about it.

Vi wasn’t much interested in bones, but if this one had belonged to a local priest or priestess? That changed things. I could see her wanting to ensure the remains were returned to their family. That was the only lure I could imagine hooking her into a bidding war, and she had definitely come to play with fifty thousand as a deposit.

Using a proxy—Kitt Gato—to place bids on his behalf was the only way Dis Pater, overseeing the auction as Desmond Patel, could have sold an item and then won it back with no one the wiser.

But if Dis Pater was the host…and also the winner…then he must be the one reaping the benefits.

Did that mean the whole auction was a setup from start to finish, meant to lure Vi out in the open?

The way Dis Pater was tossing his aliases around like confetti, he didn’t care if I came looking for him.

No.

With his choice of targets and location, I was starting to believe that was exactly what he—or anyone who might want me to believe it was Dis Pater—hoped I would do.

“Thanks for your help,” I told the spirits then locked gazes with Kierce. “We’re done here.”

The souls heaved sighs of relief they didn’t need as we turned to go.

With time to kill, I guided Kierce to a nearby oyster house where we could refuel before midnight.

And hash out reasons why Dis Pater, à la Desmond Patel, might be gunning for my family.