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?'
Mari and Nïx shared a look. 'I don't touch those. But what you're asking for isn't a resurrection. Your spirit's here and available. No need to suck it back to this plane. What you need is an embodying, which is highly dangerous in itself. And there are about a dozen different conditions that would have to be met. But even if everything were ideal, I'm just not skilled enough to try it. Not yet.'
'You've never attempted it?'
'On a human? Not outside a simulator.' After a hesitation, she admitted, 'I did recently attempt it on my ghost cat.'
'And?'
'And, did you ever see Pet Sematary?'
Néomi shook her head.
'No? Well, my Tigger came back wrong!' she cried, biting her knuckle.
Nïx rose to sit beside Mari, patting her back. 'There, there, favorite Wiccan-type person.'
Mari dabbed at her eyes, muttering, 'Got some, uh, dust in my eye.'
To Néomi, the Valkyrie said, 'Mari's got oodles of power, but this would be a skill level of'—she frowned—'what level?'
'A fiver,' Mari answered, regaining her composure. 'Out of five.'
'Why not practice on me?' Néomi said, making her tone bright. 'I'm game.'
Nïx shook her head. 'For Mari to do a five, she'd have to commune with the mirror to unleash her full power. It's likely she would get entranced in her own reflection, unable to break away from it. Possibly forever.'
Mari nodded. 'But I'm going to face my reflection in fifty years, when I'm stronger and more skilled. We've already got it marked on the calendar. If you can wait that long, I'll put you at the top of the list, for a nominal, onetime fee—'
'No. Merci, but no.' Fifty more years of loneliness and sliver moons? Her death relived another six hundred times?
Or possibly a year of life. There wasn't even a question of which she'd choose.
'I'm sorry, Néomi. If I tried to embody you now, I'd probably get enthralled and you'd come back worse than dead. I know you're thinking that there's nothing worse than dead—'
'No. I don't think that.' Néomi had just spent a lifetime worse than dead. She understood the concept, and why it'd be wise to avoid it.
'There's one other option as well,' Nïx said. 'In the Lore, there are Phantoms, a ghostlike species of immortals who can incarnate at will, like shape-shifters between life and death. If you can exist long enough in this plane as a ghost, you'd gradually regrow a physical form, accumulating strength to become like them. You'd be able to leave your spirit anchor, and still retain all your telekinetic abilities.'
'How long?' This sounded perfect! 'How long do I have to exist to grow a body?'
Nix snapped her fingers. 'A mere four or five centuries. It'll be over before you know it.'
'Oh.' The breezy way Nïx said that made Néomi wonder how old the Valkyrie could possibly be.
