The dryer tumbled in the kitchenette, a warm white noise. Lulled by the hum, Zyr and Mys napped on opposite ends of the couch with legs entangled. The studio had become a fading-daylight shade of blue as Sunday unwound. With the downturn, my thoughts shifted back to my eventful journey to see the voodoo loa.

It started with a tentative knock at the door of unit 15B. While the sounds of the projects thumped and shouted around me, I strained to hear the shuffle of feet on the other side, staring at the peeling flecks of maroon latex around the peephole, afraid to walk through walls.

"Right on time," an old lady greeted me as the door swung open.

Dressed in a colorful mu-mu, she patted a headful of pink foam rollers and waved me toward her kitchen. I took a hesitant step inside and closed the door behind me. The woman had a plump, jolliness to her. She might sooner trade coupons than hurt me, but I couldn't be too careful.

"Got the sacrifice?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Ma'am?" I squeaked.

Facing me, she shook her head skyward and grinned. "I told that so-and-so you need a sacrifice, gyal." She tapped a cigarette out a crumpled pack and lit it. I wrinkled my nose, although the smoke didn't burn. She scrutinized me, and I scrutinized her. "Lawd, you scared. I don't bite. You look like your mama," she said with a grin. "Both y'all do, you and your sister."

"You know my mother and my sister?"

She gestured again at one of the folding chairs by the table, and I sat beside an open window that let in the noise of the storm. Weak morning sun illuminated the cluttered kitchen. There were dishes in the sink and a pot of grits on the stove. The place smelled like burnt coffee. I didn't mind any of it. It felt human, and it made me comfortable.

Plopping a battered stack of cards between us, the old woman beckoned for me to shuffle. I did, asking my question again. She had me to cut the shuffled deck, and I did that, too.

"I got a sense for you. Ionno you, but I got a sense for you," she answered as she laid a tarot spread. A scruffy cat hopped on the vacant chair and arched its back in a lazy stretch. Its pink nose sniffed along the edge of the sticky Formica table before losing interest and wriggling in my direction.

"I don't understand," I said to the woman. "What do you sense about me? Do I know you?"

Her eyebrows were threaded with silver. Staring at the cards, she raised them, and wrinkles lined her forehead. When she looked up, I noticed her irises were murky brown, but ringed by an intense cobalt blue. I fidgeted beneath her scrutiny.

"Why you here, baby?" she asked in a smoke-husked voice.

"My friend told me I could meet a voodoo loa here. Are you...are you the one?"

"I tend the offerings." She sounded amused. "I say the prayers. I'm Mambo Julene. They do the interceding on yo' behalf. They do the resurrecting. You do the sacrificing, but you ain't got no offering, and you ain't got no sacrifice. So, what can they do for you?" Her rambling speech slowed as she flipped over the first card in my spread, the card in the center. It was upside down. The Sun.

She hurried to the upper right corner of the spread, muttering under her breath. The Hanged Man. Well, that seemed ominous. The Hermit was next. It was in the lower right corner. When the old woman flipped that one over, she pursed her lips and inclined her head. The lower card on the left read Death. It was upside down.

I bit my thumbnail as I studied the images being revealed. What on earth could they mean, and did I even believe in the tarot? Glancing at my ghostly hand—as solid as any living person's—I realized I lowkey did believe all this. If Overlay City had taught me nothing else, I learned impossible things weren't so impossible here.

The old woman flipped over another card, one in the upper left corner. It was the Wheel of Fortune. Fortune was always a good sign, right? The final card was The Tower, and it was also upside down. I sat back apprehensively.

"What do you see, Mambo Jolene?" I asked.

She cracked her deformed knuckles as she studied me through a haze of smoke. "I see you in the wrong place. You don't know what you want or where to go. You stuck here, gyal." She pointed a gnarled finger at me and then the floor.

"You want to see the light, but the lantern don't reveal everything," she warned. "Some secrets you have to travel directly into the wild dark to uncover. I get it. You're scared—mm-hm—you should be. Because if you don't find a way, you die. I mean, die in reality.

"Fortunately, you not alone. I'll guide you far as I can. Just bring your offering and a body to sacrifice, and I'll put your Soul in the vessel. Hm?" She lifted a brow and smiled. "If not, you'll suffer. Oh, you'll get free, more or less, but—well, let's not let it come to that." She laughed as she flapped a hand at a table with candles interspersed amongst bottles of rum and long, fat dry leaves that smelled pungently sweet.

I didn't know why or how I would suffer, but a more pressing question moved to the forefront. "What do you mean by get a body to sacrifice?" I asked.

Mambo Jolene's seamless face broke into a toothy grin. "Are you the Son of Man that you can rise three days later in the same body them crucified you in? You need a human sacrifice." She slid a large knife from a kitchen drawer.

That was when I had run from the room. I didn't want to murder someone to get a second chance at life. I didn't want anyone dying on my behalf.

With an unhappy sigh, I turned from the dryer and tiptoed across Mys' quiet studio to sit on the coffee table and watch my friends (and lover?) sleep. I wished I could do the same. My incorporeal body couldn't rest. It needed nothing but to figure out my unfinished business, and with that, I was back at square one.

Frowning, I realized I was no longer upset at Mys for running hot and cold. After hearing how their parents reacted in a crisis and seeing how Kittie had given up in frustration, it became clear to me: My roommate was afraid of more than embarrassing anatomy. Mys was hardwired to expect abandonment.

I reached across the gulf and tucked a strand of hair out of their serene face. The silk kimono framed their androgynous body like gallery art. I had never confronted my sexuality before dying, but it seemed like affection didn't require a special identity. I simply liked this person, and I wanted them to like me, too.

I wanted to promise I'd never abandon them, but that wasn't possible because eventually, I would have to go to that damn Light. I glanced at Zyr. The detective's eyes were open, and I jumped, startled. He grinned sleepily.

"You should join us," he suggested.

"I'm okay. You guys need your rest. We have a busy day tracking down Cyprian's other victims tomorrow." Plus, I didn't think my libido could handle another tease-fest with the sexy Empath. Real talk.

"Aurie?" Zyr paused. "You know, you were never bait to me. I admit I hoped your presence would bring Cyprian within reach, but sacrificing you was never the plan. I'll guard you with my life, understand? Always. You can trust that. A wolf's vow isn't made carelessly."

I pondered how to respond. Leaning back on the coffee table, I stretched my legs in the space between us and crossed my ankles. The movement caused Mys to stir, blink awake and disentangle from Zyr. The detective stared longingly a second before sitting up, too.

"What are we talking about?" Mys asked.

"Trust," I stated. "I want to trust you both, but you guys seem all too willing to keep me in the dark while you figure out what you think is best for me. I can't put faith in that."

"You're right," said Zyr, "and I see that now, and I apologize. I'll do my best to keep you in the loop with new information from now on."

I turned to Mys for the same, but my roommate stayed mum. I arched a brow. "Any other big reveals you want to get out the way?" I asked. I wasn't up for another plot twist.