Néomi didn't think Nïx looked a day older than Mari, but what did she know? "Can either of you tell me how I became a ghost?"
Mari shook her head. "No one really knows for certain, but I've heard it has to do with a soul being too strong, even after death, to pass on. Oh, and usually you have to have a sturdy spirit anchor."
"Spirit anchor?"
"Yeah, if you die in a place that you loved or that had meaning for you, it can anchor your spirit there."
Néomi had loved Elancourt - the property had been all she'd had that was permanent and lasting. She'd wanted to plant roots, to watch children play in the gardens and the folly. To grow old here with someone she loved.
Why did Conrad's face flash in her mind when she imagined that?
"So what do you do for fun around here?" Mari asked.
"Fun? Um, I read the newspaper. And... oh, sometimes cats move in! And there's this family of nutria that come in the winter to root around inside the house. Their antics are so funny, I could watch them for hours." She frowned. "Actually, I do watch them for hours."
Mari cast Nïx a speaking glance. "Bones, we got here just in time!"
"Clearly, Jim," Nïx replied in a bored tone.
Bones? Jim? "So you'd heard of me?" Néomi asked.
"Yeah, I'd thought about doing my class report on you."
Striving for a casual tone, Néomi said, "But you didn't?"
"An older witch had already written a paper on a suffragist from Baton Rouge. I wasn't above using it. But I remember you were a burlesque dancer turned ballerina."
"Burlesque? That got out? But people never understand," Néomi said, wondering what these women would think of her - Conrad had been appalled. What if they wouldn't take her seriously about what she was seeking? "I only did that for three months. Four possibly. A year at the most. I was never entirely naked," she added. "Not many times at all. Back then it was called a striptease. Not a strip, you understand. There were usually fans or big feathers - "
"But that's one thing people loved about you," Mari said. "These days burlesque is way cool. After your secret got out, people called you the ballerina with burlesque soul. You fit New Orleans."
"Oh, then," Néomi said on a breath. At last, people were seeing it as they should. "I'm actually mollified."
"Great. So, let's get down to business."
"Would you like to have a seat?" Having her own guests here was so surreal!
With a nod, Mari kicked her briefcase past the coffee table to the cot, then sat. Nïx hopped atop the display table to the dust-free spot where the gramophone had been. She surveyed Néomi's collection of condoms, bras, and Mardi Gras paraphernalia, but said nothing.
"I'd offer you coffee - "
"I don't ingest food or drink," Nïx said evenly.
Mari added, "And coffee on top of margaritas is courting the wrath of Cuervo." She took out a pen and a pad of paper. "So, Néomi, first some background just for my own records... . Why contact me now? I mean, you've been a ghost for decades."
"Well, I didn't even know about the Lore until the vampires moved in a couple weeks ago. I'd had no idea there were witches or Valkyrie - "
"Vampires moved in?" Mari interrupted, flashing a look at Nïx. "Funny. I just saw a foreign vamp at a bayou bar recently. What a coincidence."
Nïx mouthed, "Who? Whaa?"
"Yes, they're from Estonia," Néomi said, and soon the entire story flowed. "... and then Conrad cut off his hand and called me a pathetic ghost, and I realized I was, and I couldn't stand it. So that's when I rang you up."
"You're not seeking to be embodied because of the vampire, are you?" Mari asked. "To show him what he's missing? Because this is really serious."
Even if Néomi never saw Conrad again, she had to take action of some kind. Because I can't stand what I've become. "I'm seeking this, because it's time."
"Okay, I'm just going to lay all this out for you." Mari set down her pen. "I can help you with your incorporeality problem, but it's a temporary fix, and it comes with a high price. Not just the monetary type. It's basically a shell spell that creates a target practice body. The spell will make you look and feel precisely like the human you once were, but you'll, well, you'll get killed soon after."
"Why is that?"
"Some folks call what we're discussing a hail Mary mortality play. You could set about righting old wrongs, using knowledge of the afterlife to screw with the present. Fate doesn't like these bids and shuts them down forcefully," Mari explained. "It'd be like you were walking around with a glaring target on your back. You'd get capped by some unnatural cause - a runaway trolley car or a plane crash or you'd be electrocuted by your hair dryer. Something pretty horrific would happen. Your shell body would expire, then disappear, and then your spirit would die, die."
"How long would I have?"
"A couple of weeks? A night? Maybe a few months. There's no way to tell. But the most I've ever read of in the Web forum was a year."
Néomi swallowed. "What happens after death, death?"
"That's the kicker. Nobody knows - it's kinda between you and your God, gods, goddesses, et cetera."
"Well, now that we're in discussions," Néomi began, "I have to ask - is there any way to make me corporeal for a lifetime? Maybe I have enough money for a full resurrection?"