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  A large dust mote dropped into the lamp, extinguishing the flame. The chandelier darkened as the door slammed shut and the lock engaged. The Romanov mask glowed for a moment in memory of a long ago Mardi Gras and then faded again into the dull relic. Sean Edward’s body lay where it had fallen, his head lolling to one side. One last tear made its way from his eye to the floor, where it pooled for a moment before soaking into the dust-covered floor.

  Chapter One

  Mia gazed down at the landscape from the window of the private jet. They were approaching Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, cruising over Lake Pontchartrain. She stared a moment at the shallow lake before sitting back and closing her eyes. She didn’t want to be on this jet, nor did she want to be traveling into a city where the disaster of Hurricane Katrina was still impacting the city, not only the living but the dead too. It had been a last minute request and a hastily made decision that had brought her to Dupage County Airport and the private jet waiting for her. “Beware of favors” needed to be tattooed on her somewhere she could see it minute to minute. It had been an accumulation of favors she owed Gerald Shem that had all but guaranteed that she would agree to his request.

  Mia had looked up into Gerald’s eyes on the day he asked for his favors to be returned in disbelief and asked, “You want me to leave my baby, husband, and home to travel to a place that is full, elbow to elbow, with the dead walking and do what?”

  “Cross them over,” he said simply.

  “I’m sure there are more sensitives down there than Bev has shoes. It’s their territory; I’m not going to be welcomed.”

  Gerald waved his hands around as he collected his thoughts. He guided Mia over to the couch in his inner sanctum and encouraged her to sit down. “Mia, the hurricane, as you can imagine, left a lot of the dead wondering what hit them. The spiritual leaders of all the various religions were exhausted by the enormous task set before them. As you are aware, not all of the dead were found right away. Each time a home is torn down or renovated, there is a chance of disrupting a sleeping soul.”

  “Various religions were tripping over each other, in the beginning, trying to help these lost souls. A commission was established in 2007 to study the problem. It was decided that once a year after Mardi Gras, a group of sensitives encompassing most of the population’s beliefs would assemble to cross over the lost souls.”

  “What if they don’t want to cross?” Mia asked.

  “They stay. New Orleans has always been a haven for the dead. Not even a hurricane will change that. But not all want to wander for eternity. Most want to move on to be with family and friends.”

  “Why after Mardi Gras?”

  “One last party before they go,” Gerald said smiling. “This August, it will be ten years since Katrina, and they are still in recovery mode.”

  “Ten years is a long time. I have to admit to being ignorant of what could be taking so long,” Mia said.

  “Politics for the most part. The money is there but not available. But that’s not your problem. I would like you to go and take the place of a sensitive who had planned to attend.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Felipe Acosta has contracted pneumonia and is too ill to leave his home.”

  “Pardon my ignorance, but I’m going to take the place of a Spanish priest?”

  “You know Padre Acosta?” Gerald asked, amazed.

  “I know of him. One cannot have a conversation with Father Alessandro about ascensions without his good friend Felipe not being mentioned.”

  “Did Father Alessandro mention why Felipe was so special?”

  “Because… Oh.” Mia stopped a moment as realization flooded her. “He’s a fence-sitter like me. He understands the need to stay sometimes overrides the necessity to leave.”

  “I’ll clear the favors you owe me and two of the favors owed by PEEPs,” Gerald bargained.

  Mia’s mouth dropped open. The value of these cleared favors was costing Gerald a lot.

  “I understand that your son is young, and the pain of being away from him for one hour, let alone a few days, you will have. Most young mothers who have to return to work go through this every morning. You will only be away for seventy-two hours. A private jet will take and return you. Ted will be with little Brian, and I have asked Judy to spend a few days in Chicago to be near them just in case there are any problems.”

  Mia looked at Gerald and calculated the cost he was taking on. “I’m surprised you didn’t just ask my aunt and save yourself all these favors.”

  “Oh, Beverly has been there before, in 2012, and was asked not to return. The commission didn’t appreciate her brusque nature. I believe they said that she had lined up the souls and proceeded to cross them in assembly line fashion.”

  “Sounds like her. Are you sure she wasn’t just having them on?” Mia asked, having borne the brunt of Bev’s unusual sense of humor before.

  “No, I asked her, and she admitted to having dinner reservations at Emeril’s and was running late.”

  “That’s one way of blowing your reputation as a sensitive sky high,” Mia commented.

  “Yes, the Cooper name took a big hit, I assure you.”

  “But if it has, then how am I going to pass?” Mia asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re Mia Martin now.”

  “Window dressing, I’m still a Cooper,” Mia argued.

  “Your reputation of crossing into purgatory and returning has wiped away any stain Beverly may have caused.”

  “I’m surprised that you would use that, Gerald,” Mia said, visibly upset. “That was private.”

  “It wasn’t I, but the judge who brought that to light.”

  “Judge Roumain has to stay out of my life,” Mia demanded.

  “Good luck with that. Once he got to know you, he laid claim to you. It’s not a bad thing, Mia; it’s just business.”

  “A judge of purgatory has laid claim to me, and it’s not a bad thing?” Mia questioned.

  “He doesn’t own you. He is just interested in you. He protects you.”

  “How is that different from what the Other had planned for me? Besides, if Roumain protects me, then where was he when I was being dragged off to… to…”

  “You never found out the owner of the contract, did you?” Gerald questioned.

  “No.”

  “From the little Beverly has told me of Others, there isn’t a way for paranormal beings to interfere with these contracts. Others are brokers for both sides. There has to be some sort of immunity so they can do their job.”

  “But Angelo took him away.”

  “That was after the contract was found to be false.”

  Mia raised an eyebrow. She knew that her aunt had used the smallest of technicalities to break the contract and pushed the Other into a position of stepping outside his authority. Mia never asked what Angelo did with Richard Chapman. She knew instinctively that question was out of bounds.

  “Mia, my back is against the wall here. I promised. Something I rarely do. Can you help me out?”

  She had acquiesced, and the arrangements had been made. Ted wanted to go with her, but Mia insisted that he stay with Brian. They discussed Cid or Audrey going along, but Mia nixed the idea. She would go solo. Get in, do the job, and get out was her goal. She didn’t want to sightsee. New Orleans had its draw, but she would return one day on Ted’s arm. This trip was purely business.

  She tightened her seatbelt, earning a smile from the flight attendant. Mia figured that she must have her hands full corralling her normal flyers into chairs. Mia was determined to be as compliant as possible. “Don’t rock the boat,” she reminded herself silently, “or the plane either.”

  ~

  Murphy looked on as Ted and Cid packed the command post vehicle of the Paranormal Entity Exposure Partners. Ted had little Brian tucked securely in a front pack. Cid did the heavy lifting, but Ted still managed to do his part without waking the baby. Burt had called, and they
were to meet at a neighboring village library. There had been reports of paranormal activity there, and Burt wanted to capture it on film. He doubted that it was anything more than displaced energy - maybe a residual haunt? It would be back to the old days when they didn’t have a sensitive to cut corners for them. Murphy offered to go along, but Burt declined. He didn’t want to waste their valuable asset on a few displaced books and a rolling cart moving slowly across the main floor independent of driver.

  “Well, I think that’s everything,” Cid said, looking at his list. “It feels so odd to being doing this without Mia.”

  “We’ve done it before,” Ted commented. “It’s actually kind of exhilarating, like walking a tightrope without a net.”

  “Exhilarating? I call that scary,” Cid said as he closed up the back.

  Cid would be driving the truck while Ted took Brian in the baby-friendly PEEPs van. He was surprised that Ted didn’t seek out a babysitter. It wasn’t that they lacked offers. Deputy Tom’s mother was itching to get her hands on Brian and didn’t mind being out at the farm with Murphy there. Judy was on call, courtesy of Gerald Shem. But Ted had insisted that PEEPs was a family-friendly business, and Brian would be sleeping through most of it anyway. He had engineered a small baby room in the space behind the files which Mia normally used as an OOBing launch pad. Jake would be monitoring the truck’s temperature. At no point would the vehicle be allowed to drop below a comfortable temperature for an infant.

  “I’ve thought out every scenario. I’m more than prepared.”

  “Best laid plans, my friend,” Cid voiced.

  “Don’t jinx us,” Ted warned.

  “Does Mia know?” Cid asked. He could tell by the way Ted reacted that Mia hadn’t been consulted. Well, this would be an interesting evening for Brian and for PEEPs.

  ~

  Mia wasn’t surprised to see a driver waiting for her on the tarmac of Atlantic Aviation. Her overnight case was taken from her by an energetic young man whose pristine, tailored suit and carefully-tied tie bespoke of his usual fare. She wondered if he was disappointed seeing the wrinkled, sleepy-eyed woman who handed him a much abused gym duffle bag. If he was judging her, he did it without it showing on his face. He secured the duffle in the trunk of the black sedan. He walked around and opened the car door for her.

  “Ah…” Mia began, not catching his name on the first quick introduction.

  “George Markam, Miss, but you can call me George.”

  “George, I need to visit the facilities.”

  “I’ll be waiting outside the front entrance, Miss. Take all the time you need.”

  “Oh, George, drop the miss. I’m a missus but prefer Mia.”

  “Yes, Mia,” he responded with a smile.

  The copilot escorted her into the FBO. He confirmed with her the return day and time. She thanked him and shook his hand before proceeding to the bathroom. Mia took in the multitude of grooming products on the counter before she entered the private stall. “So this is how the other half live,” she muttered.

  “The other two percent,” a perky voice said from the neighboring stall.

  Mia blushed. She took care of the immediate concern and prayed that the perky woman would have left the bathroom before she left her stall. She wasn’t that lucky. The woman winked at her in the mirror.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offense,” Mia said, washing her hands.

  “None taken,” the expensively-dressed woman said with a slight drawl. “Actually, I have a favor.” The woman turned around, and Mia saw that the zipper of her dress had opened halfway down. “It must have been that last pecan roll. Is there any hope?”

  Mia couldn’t understand the recent style of large, metal-toothed, visible zippers. If she had to be zipped into a dress, she wanted the zipper to be invisible. She examined the breach and found that the large teeth had simply become misaligned. She pulled the zipper upwards and down again, checking the base before pulling the zipper back up. She took a moment to tug on the previous problem and it held. “I’m not sure, but I think this ought to get you where you’re going, and then I’d have a tailor put in a new zipper.”

  “You are such a darling!” the woman squealed over her shoulder as she checked out the back of the dress. “If ever I can return the favor,” she said, dropping a business card into Mia’s hand, “don’t hesitate to call. Just tell my secretary you’re the zipper wiz.”

  Mia nodded and watched as the woman all but dance out of the bathroom. Mia took the time to pull a comb through the knots in her blonde hair before leaving the bathroom. She would never pass as rich, but she would now pass as human.

  The sliding doors of the exit opened and blasted Mia with the hot humid air. George was leaning against the sedan parked in front of the doors with a devil-may-care expression on his face.

  “Aren’t you hot?” she asked.

  “Thank you. I thought I looked good in this suit, but hot, fancy that.”

  Mia puzzled over the exchange and pondered if she could have asked a better question. The confident George probably would find a compliment in anything she said, so she gave up.

  She got in the car and sighed with pleasure at the comfy seventy-two degrees.

  George got in the car and took a moment to make sure Mia had been made comfortable before he pulled away.

  “Is this your first trip to N’awlins?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Mia replied, a bit unsettled by the older black gentleman that got in the front seat after George and put on his seat belt. He was dressed in a somber black uniform, although his hat was perched on his head at a jaunty angle.

  George looked over his paperwork. “It says I’m to drop you at the JW Marriott on Canal Street to get refreshed, and then wait.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m not sure what’s going on honestly,” Mia said. Wait? Wait for what? she asked herself.

  “I assume you’re here on business,” George said.

  The older man frowned. It was evident that, in his day, the driver did not converse with the passengers in such a familiar way.

  “Really?” Mia squeaked, looking down at her travel-worn cargos and stretched out t-shirt with a faded, baby barf stain on the shoulder.

  He caught her eye in the mirror and flashed her a smile.

  “Most people don’t come to N’awlins alone, and they rarely have a car at their disposal unless it’s business,” he explained.

  “Oh. Well…” Mia stalled a moment before continuing, “I’m here at the request of the Guiding Light Commission, George. I have certain abilities they intend to make use of.”

  “Guiding Light Commission,” he repeated. “The name’s not familiar to me, but that’s not unusual. There are so many associations, charities, and commissions involved here that I’m surprised they don’t trip over each other. Not that I disapprove, mind you,” he qualified.

  It was Mia’s turn to smile. “I guess people’s good intentions can get in the way of recovery.”

  The older gentleman nodded.

  “George, you said you were going to wait for me?”

  “Yes, I’m to drive you to an address in the Garden District.”

  “Is it far from the hotel? I could walk it.”

  “Not if I’m expected to get paid,” George admitted. “I’m yours for the day; do with me as you please.”

  Mia lifted an eyebrow and refrained from using the Mike-worthy bawdy comment that had sprung up in her mind. “I understand. I’m just not used to this…” Mia fought for the right words before speaking, “level of luxury.”

  George nodded. He had exited the highway and was navigating the streets that would lead them to the hotel.

  Mia looked out the window, and from where they were presently, New Orleans looked like any city’s business district. Towering business hotels and swanky restaurants lined the drive. George pulled under the awning of the Marriott, and a liveried doorman opened her car door.

  “Mia, call this number before you leave your roo
m to come down.” George handed her a card, explaining, “I’m going to wait in a less congested area until needed.”

  “K,” Mia replied distractedly. She found herself being swept into the hotel. She felt a bit cheap grabbing her gym bag from the doorman. He waved off the tip before she could dig into her pocket for some cash.

  “The driver took care of me,” he said.

  “K.”

  Mia found herself in an impressive lobby. To her right, she spied a long counter staffed by uniformed men and women. “I guess this is where I check in,” she said to herself. She approached the first available person timidly. “Reservation for Martin, Mia Martin.”

  The woman looked up from the keyboard and quickly assessed her. Mia imagined that they were going to want payment up front before this ragamuffin would get a key to her room. A few keystrokes later, the practiced smile formed, and the attitude of the woman went through an amazing change. “Welcome, Mrs. Martin! We are glad you decided to stay in our hotel. I see we have an Executive King corner room looking over the riverside or would you prefer to look over the French Quarter?”

  “River’s fine,” Mia said, not really caring. She wouldn’t be spending much time in her room except to sleep.

  “A package has been left for you. Would you like it now or I could have it sent up to your room?”

  “Depends on how big the package is,” Mia said.

  “We’ll send it up. Also, if you would wait a moment, there is something in the safe…” the woman said, leaving the counter and a very perplexed Mia.

  The woman returned with a smiling manager in tow. He asked to see Mia’s ID and had her sign for the manila envelope. Mia noticed that the envelope was sealed and decided to keep it that way until she reached the safety of her room. She jammed it into her duffle and accepted the key to her room. She was directed to the elevators and was assured that she could just pick up the phone, day or night, and they would see to her every need. She responded with a lifted eyebrow and a moderated comment, “Fine, thank you.”