Greg did not walk me to my door. He did walk me down Passyunk Ave, eventually onto to South, and left me at the corner across from the Bean & Brew. It was too late and too cold for that walk, but neither of us offered to call a cab. Not sure if it was because we were both too broke to justify the one-mile trip or if, Netherworld forbid, we might have been enjoying each other's company.

But we didn't enjoy it too much. The realization as to why Lily sought me out that night left me colder than the wind howling between the rowhomes. It was research. Or maybe desperation? A last-ditch effort to know if she'd be back again before she died? Then again, she hadn't mentioned it.

She had mentioned that she and her ghost were close.

They couldn't have been that close. Reincarnation isn't real—trust me, I've asked around behind the veil on that one—no more so than Heaven or Hell.

I pitied the girl for being taken in by the idea.

My bringing her back from the dead probably didn't help put it out of her head.

Yikes.

"Goodnight," Greg said, nodding at the still open café, pretending not five blocks ago I hadn't noticed him nearly put his arm around me after I wiped a snot trail from my reddened nose. "I'll, um, have my secretary call you with any further updates on the case."

I shivered, knocked off balance by the sudden weight in my stomach which had absolutely no right to be there. "Oh."

"I appreciate your assistance tonight," he continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets and avoiding my eyes. "But us working so closely won't be necessary any further. Frankly it would be a liability. I'll see to it tonight doesn't go unnoticed on your bill, though."

"Right," I snapped open my clutch and poked around for my little wallet. "What I owe you for food?"

"What? No. I—" He pinched his nose. Under the glow of the streetlamps his pale freckles danced like snowflakes on his scrunched face. "Exchange of services. I'm reducing your fee because you helped me break into an apartment, which you didn't do, and never happened, got it?"

"Oh. Right. Course." I snapped my clutch shut. "Thank you."

"Sleep well," he said, turning on his heel before I could reply and briskly walking back up South Street. Yep. Cheese fries and a greasy steak later, those jeans still looked good on him.

That ass was a liability.

Heck, I thought I'd done pretty good tonight, all things considered. I told him about the bloody towels. Probably a mistake, but maybe the right thing? Cool as a cucumber when he questioned me about it too. Didn't even let the vamp spy the ring I'd snagged from Lily's place either. Consider it collateral for the thousand bucks she owed me. Poor, stupid, totally-resurrected-like-new girl.

Cut through the café again on my way up. A paper cup of extra hot red eye was waiting for me at the edge of the counter, psychic written in loopy cursive on the side. I could hear Mason knocking a mop about in the basement storage level. Not wanting to bother, I wrestled enough quarters (thanks for those too, Lily) to cover the coffee and dropped them on the counter. I could pay back what I owed from the other night later. Once I broke that last hundred from Greg.

That first sip of coffee pleasantly scolded my lips. But it was warm and the flavor rich and I savored it. It was better than the garbage brew Greg made in his office.

So. Greg. He'd have his secretary—Phoebe?—call me with details about the case. Now, girlfriend, be honest with yourself. Do you think he'd have Phoebe call you before he reported the resurrected corpse to the Magistrate, or would he just let me know after I'd been arrested? It was a stroke of luck him asking me to tag along tonight. One that terrified me.

Not sure what terrified me more. Finding Lily and having to revert my mistake, or Greg just finding her without me.

Oh, wait, scratch that.

What terrified me the most was the fact that my apartment door was left open, and my home was a ransacked, crap storm mess beyond it.

My bed had been stripped. Comforter, pillows, sheets, everything torn off and leaving my mattress shamefully naked. The bedding was tossed into a pile of dirt on the floor. Literal dirt, you know, from where my plants had been smashed.

Books and magazines were strewn about. My wobbly chaise had even been overturned. Every drawer and cabinet—from my dresser to under the kitchen sink—was open and emptied. It seemed, I think, as I tiptoed through the wreckage, that most of my things were still at home. Some plates were broken. One of my grandmother's teacups too. At this rate, I'll lose the whole set by Samhain. Her ghost wasn't going to be happy about that.

As I bent to pick up the shattered teacup pieces, I noticed my hands trembling.

Teacup could wait. I snatched up my cigarettes instead. Fumbled with the lighter only three times. Took a long drag. The nicotine and coffee combo did not offer me the sweet, soothing hit of nirvana I was aiming for, but at least my hands stopped shaking. A little.

Minotaur shit. My crystal ball was gone. So were my many other crystals, all those bits of rose quartz and agate I collected for purely aesthetic sake. Some bits of my jewelry too. I counted between cigarette puffs. Mostly the flashy costume stuff, not the tarnished silver and gold of real family heirlooms, thankfully. And, alright, I admit I might just not have noticed them beneath the mess, but I think the intruder had taken my candle collection too. The black tapered ones I used for seances, and the Champagne Toast scented one from my bathroom too. Some tarot packs were also gone, and the Ouija board I'd hung up for décor was torn right off the wall.

That board had been a gift from my sisters.

My TV was untouched. Closet and kitchen were also both ransacked, but nothing there seemed to have been taken either. My stash of needles in the first aid kit remained hidden.

The heck? I piss off a nunnery recently?

Or was this... karma for busting into Lily's place? But that was the vampire's idea.

Balls. Could this have been a Magistrate sting?

It's probably funny, isn't it? Objectively. Somebody tries to rob me of all the 'display only' occult fixings I don't actually need to perform any occult rituals (they were for ambiance!). Except when it's your home being violated it's not funny. It's scary as shit.

They trampled over my salt circles. My circles. There were runes and charms in those circles. The spell jars—now shattered over my bathrobe—that I'd already replaced days ago. They were protective. Top market shit from the Local Hag. I couldn't afford anymore. Not now.

And without those... well. I had made the veil thin here. Thin enough to keep my cat busy chasing at nothing.

A row of goosebumps erupted down my forearms.

Where was my cat?

"Grumpkin?"

The shadows in the corners of the room elongated, creeping steadily closer.

I finally heard the water splashing. My bathroom door was closed. At least until I hurled myself through it.

The floor was wet. I slipped on it, creeping out on the other side of the door. The water, and my feet now, were cold. My bathtub had been filled to the brim. Inside it something thrashed, spilling water out all over the place, knocking my razor and shampoos off the ledge.

I jumped into the tub. It was freezing and for moment I thought the weight of my wet dress would drown me. Completely submerged was a pillowcase. Claw marks had torn it open in spots, but not open enough. I snatched up the case, splashing water everywhere. Above the surface, Grumpkin yowled.

"Baby, it's okay. I got you!" I cooed and shushed him. My hands and voice quaked. The knot in the pillowcase wouldn't budge so I shoved my nails into a rip Grumpkin had started and yanked.

The hole stretched easily, and a sopping wet cat leaped out. He bounced off me, digging claws into my chest and slapping me in the face with his wet tail.

Grumpkin made a B-line for the stretching shadows on my walls. Scratching. Hissing. Spitting. The shadows retreated back into normal, perfectly content, regular ole shadows.

"Good boy." I sighed.

Dragging my soaked butt out the tub, I pulled the drain plug and stubbed out the cigarette I'd dropped with my stocking foot, just in case the puddle it fell in hadn't totally put it out. I needed another. And where the shit did I put down my coffee?

Seemingly satisfied with protecting house, Grumpkin trotted back into the bathroom and rubbed his soggy chin against my shivering thigh. I slipped and nearly cracked my skull open on the sink.

Which would have been a real shame cause then I would have missed the message scrawled— son of a banshee, in my black lipstick!—across it.

"I know what you did. Be home tomorrow night."

Oooohhh nooooo. No, no, no, no. Not good.

I should've called my parents. Or Nazira. Anybody. The police. The Magistrate. My sisters! Beg those witches to help me out of this jam. My battery was dead though and the jerk who did this had thoroughly misplaced my charger.

Screaming, I grabbed the ruined pillowcase and tossed it across my apartment. It smacked unsatisfyingly against wall, startling Grumpkin. He twined himself between my legs, purring.

What precise kind of threat was this, anyway? How did anybody—

Lily. Somebody knew what I did to Lily. Did they follow her to me?

I didn't bring the finger with me. Couldn't risk getting pinched with it. Of course, I didn't want to just leave it laying around. What if something happened?

I snorted.

Yeah, well, something did.

"Grumpkin," I held my palm out to my zombie cat and commanded: "Spit."

He retched. Hacked. Mewed. Instead of a hairball (well there was a bit of a hairball) my normally fuzzy, now waterlogged cat spewed the pinky bone Lily had left behind straight into my waiting palm.

"Good boy," I said, wiping cat slime off on my wet dress and giving him a good behind the ear scratch. Good. At least that was safe.

But was I?

Be home tomorrow night. I snorted. Yeah, okay, buddy.

: [Pass-ee-yunk] Passyunk Avenue cuts a diagonal line from southwest to northeast South Philly. This avenue is a hip, popular dining and shopping destination now, but you should have seen the place when that prison was still standing. H.H. Holmes was executed there. That site is an Acme grocery store now. Wild.