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Daylight had broken just minutes ago, knitting darkness and light together in shades of deep violet and orange. A gusty desert breeze flung dirt onto the windshield of Ida’s 1972 LTD. My partner Fennel purred next to me.

It wasn’t a happy purr.

“I’m sure we can get right in and out with no fuss at all.” Ida was usually wrong about such things, but it didn’t matter. I’d taken the job, and I’d get it done, no matter how long it took.

Fennel purred louder.

“Do you think it’s a ghost?” Ida asked, waggling the eyebrows I’d drawn on her face before leaving this morning. She maintained that my steadier hand kept her from looking unintentionally angry or surprised.

My bestie had just turned eighty, not that age had slowed her down. She ran 5Ks on the regular, could pass for Helen Mirren on a good day, and had a personality like fine champagne—sparkling and dry, with just the right amount of sweetness.

She was also a retired professional necromancer, which was why I’d brought her along for this job—well, that and because she was the one who’d gotten me the job in the first place.

“If we’re lucky, it’s just a kid pranking the mayor.”

“Carmen doesn’t have any kids,” Ida said. “Like me, she never wanted them.”

“Doesn’t have to be Mayor Derecho’s kid. Could be someone else’s.” I fastened a delicate gold collar around the cat’s neck then gave him a scratch between his cute black ears. “What’s got you all worked up, Fennel? You weren’t this purry when we faced off with a demon two months ago.”

“He’s mad we woke him up,” Ida said. “Should’ve brought the gnome, instead.”

“ Meow ,” he replied, and yawned. He was not a morning cat.

“Cecil’s even less of a morning person, and he has a propensity toward violence when inconvenienced.”

“Fair point,” Ida said. “Also, it’s Cinco de Mayo, remember? So, it’s been almost three months since the demon. If you’re talking about the highway one.”

“I was talking about the big bad one.” I stared at the early morning sky, wishing I were still curled up like a warm little shrimp in my comfy bed. “It’s worrisome that we have to specify which, isn’t it?”

I was referring to Belial, the demon who’d attacked me in my own parking lot a couple months ago. I still had nightmares from when he’d shoved my head through a portal into hell. I’d been lucky to make it out of that salt circle alive; if Ida hadn’t humbled herself and called one of her worst enemies to come to my rescue, I wouldn’t have.

She shrugged. “Like I told you before, we all have demons, Betty. It’s not like yours are any worse than the rest of ours.”

“After dealing with Belial, I’d have to disagree.”

“Okay, you got me there. That one was super scary.”

“And Bertrand Sexton, of course.”

“Yeah.” She flicked a glance at me. “Sexton’s another story.”

I was grateful she hadn’t referred to him as “Grandpa Sexton” this time. I’d only recently discovered the cemetery demon was my grandfather, and I still hadn’t adjusted to the news. I was avoiding the demon like he was a … well, a demon.

Ida hung a left and coasted down a quiet street in a new development outside Smokethorn. The city, not the county.

Smokethorn the county encompassed several towns, the largest of which was La Paloma, and the smallest was an incorporated area an hour from here called East Pluto. Each had its own mayor and operated largely independently from the other. The county population was somewhere around 170,000, so most of our towns were cozy.

Well, not exactly cozy . Desert folk liked their space and tended to sprawl. Paranormal desert dwellers doubly so.

“So you think the kid pranking the mayor is a paranormal?” Ida asked.

“Probably. Though I’m not convinced it’s a kid. That was more of a hopeful guess.”

I counted the empty houses in the high-end development. It seemed the mayor was the only occupant on her street. Each home sat on an acre of land, and the lack of people combined with the large land parcels made it seem particularly lonely.

“So, not a human.”

“I don’t know many humans capable of astral projecting their image into another person’s home. I don’t know many paranormals who can do something like that, outside of mages, witches, and dire wolf shifters.”

And demons. Couldn’t forget the damn demons.

“We don’t know that it’s their image,” she said. “The photo only shows a tall, hooded figure. Personally, I’m holding out for ghost.”

“If so, you’ll be coming out of retirement for the morning and taking the lead.”

I wasn’t being facetious. As a necromancer, Ida was the ideal person to convince a ghost to take a hike .

“Got it.”

Ida docked the LTD in front of Mayor Derecho’s palatial ranch-style home. The front yard had been xeriscaped to resemble a desert creek, complete with trickling water. Recirculated, most definitely. The mayor was well-known as a stickler for water conservation.

“Should we park in front?” Ida asked.

“No reason not to. If the person is projecting from a distance, they feel safe. Our presence won’t bother them.”

“And if it’s a ghost?” She shut off the engine and shoved the keys into her pocket.

“Same thing.”

We disembarked, and Fennel shot off to the back of the house, where there was easy roof and attic access. None of us thought the culprits were on site, but it was smart to make sure.

Ida waved at the front door. “Good morning, Carmen.”

“Betty, Ida, thank you for coming.”

Mayor Derecho drew the front of her bathrobe tighter around her chest with one hand and held a steaming mug to her lips with the other. She was in her early sixties, tall with a slim build. Her shoulder-length ebony hair was elegantly threaded with white, her brown skin lightly creased by time.

She was kind, levelheaded, and shrewd—by far the best mayor this little town had ever had. I’d re-registered in California even when I hadn’t been sure how long I’d be staying, just to cast my vote for her.

“Mayor Derecho, what are you doing out here?” I asked. “I assumed you’d be asleep, since you gave Ida a key.”

“Carmen, please,” she said, motioning us inside. “I’d planned to be asleep, but my uninvited houseguest decided to show up early.”

“Where?” I asked.

“In the kitchen. It’s still there.”

“Perfect. We can have some coffee while we talk to it.” Ida strolled through the front door, no hesitation in her hot-pink-sneakered step. She was dressed from head to toe in the color, from her sweatshirt to her socks.

I, on the other hand, was dressed from sweater to boots in black, as usual.

“Betty, I hated calling you and Ida out so early, but this is becoming something of an annoyance. I’ve got an important meeting coming up with the city council, and I’d rather not be distracted.”

I was a little taken aback by her casual attitude. “You don’t seem afraid of this thing.”

“No,” she said on a sigh.

It was immediately apparent why she’d sighed her response.

“Geez Louise, if you were going to go to the trouble of haunting someone, you could have at least put some effort into it.” Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and regarded the hooded figure.

It had the look of a ghost, ephemeral and smoky, with charcoal holes for eyes, a gaping mouth, and a large warty nose that protruded from the hood. It reminded me of the evil queen’s disguise from Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs . It floated menacingly from the stove to the fridge to the back door.

The thing was less The Exorcist and more Scooby-Doo Where Are You? scary . Which was to say, it wasn’t frightening at all.

Ida set down her mug to pour another and leaned in as she handed it to me. “Not a human spirit.”

I appreciated the necromancer confirmation, but I’d already figured that out. Human spirits have a certain presence—an air of dignity. This thing had all the gravitas of a three-day-old dead fish.

“Do you have any creamer?” I asked the mayor.

“In the refrigerator.” She fiddled with the volume of a small radio on the counter. The local oldies station, KLXX, played the stunningly appropriate “Ebony Eyes” by Bob Welch, a seventies rock hit from when my mom was in junior high school.

“Starting to think that radio station is run by an empath,” Ida said .

“That’s an interesting theory.” The mayor smiled mysteriously over the rim of her coffee cup. Ooo, she definitely knew something.

The creature floated from the stove to the fridge. I stepped right through it to grab the creamer. It was cold and a little damp—the creature, not the creamer—and when I shut the fridge, it let out a squeal of pain at my retreat.

I poured creamer into my coffee and leaned against the counter. Stared directly into the being’s eyes. “All right, who are you?”

The creature let out a humming sound.

“Was that a boo?” Ida asked. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Die,” it booed.

“Lame,” I said.

The creature rushed me, coming close enough for me to peer into its cavernous eyes. There was something familiar about the shape of those eyes, the twist of that mouth…

“You had a contentious mayoral race,” I said to the mayor without taking my eyes off the creature.

“Yes. I ran against former mayor Felicia Juarez.”

“And you beat her, fair and square,” I said, still watching the being. One of the eyes pinched slightly. A reaction.

“Well, yes.” The mayor eyed me curiously. “Or I wouldn’t be mayor.”

“But you didn’t only beat the old mayor. You humiliated her by garnering ninety percent of the vote. A veritable landslide victory. Historical.”

“I heard even Juarez’s kids didn’t vote for her.” Ida instantly picked up on what I was doing. “Is that what you heard, Betty?”

“Yep.”

The being’s gaping mouth sewed itself shut, but not before a whisper-quiet, “Lies,” floated out.

“I’m certain that’s untrue,” Mayor Derecho said. “Felicia and I had differing political views, but she ran a professional race, and I’m sure her family was in full support of her. ”

“Someone printed campaign signs with Bye Felicia on them.” Ida snickered.

The “ghost’s” mouth cinched until I could barely see it.

“That was you,” I said. “I was with you when you ordered them.”

The ghostly being bobbled up and down. If steam could’ve erupted from its ears, it surely would’ve.

“Trini, Jaq, and Xandra helped me put them up,” Ida said.

“ Bitches ,” the creature screamed.

“Mayor Derecho, I present former Mayor Juarez.” I took a sip of my coffee. It had undertones of chocolate and was a little acidic. Guatemalan blend, I’d bet. Delicious.

“Felicia?” The mayor sounded shocked, but I’d bet she’d suspected her former opponent all along. She was too smart not to.

“You’re all bitches.”

“Stop with the sexist slurs,” I said. “There’s nothing worse than a female misogynist.”