Chalk one up for the freaks of the world. Long may their freak flags wave.

CHAPTER 18.

"We did it!" For the first time ever, Kelly gave me a spontaneous hug.

I returned it, but kept it brief. I wanted to get out of that damn basement before all hell broke loose.

"Okay, okay, we did it. Now let's blow out the candles and get out of here."

"I have to end the seance first," Kelly said.

"Um, excuse me, but in case you haven't noticed, it's over." I rose from my chair.

"Hardly," said Psycho Barbie, emerging from the shadows. "Your stupid sister has given me an opportunity. I'd be a fool not to take it."

The cat who'd been lying on the table jumped up with a hiss.

"Good kitty," I said weakly, certain my heart would never bear the strain. "Sic her."

The cowardly beast jumped down off the table and slunk away.

"What-" Kelly took one look at my face and shut up, mid-sentence. At least I thought that's what happened, until I realized that not only was Kelly not talking, she wasn't moving.

Fucking with time and dimension is only one of the many perks of my job. Sammy's comment popped into my head, and sent a chill down my spine.

"You were warned, little goth girl," Barbie said spitefully. "You think you're so cute and stylish, don't you, with that pink hair and that 'out there' style." I didn't like the way she was smirking at me. "You look like an idiot. A reject from an old eighties video." Then she laughed, a tinkly, nasty laugh that made the back of my neck prickle. "Is that a flock of sea gulls in your hair or did you just forget to brush it?"

I opened my mouth with a scathing retort, but managed only, "Get away from us."

"I think not. Your sister's little ritual has made me stronger," she said. "This is going to be fun."

And while I watched, Psycho Barbie's face became mine. Her perfectly coiffed blond hair became dark, pink-streaked, and spiky. Her chic black dress became a short denim jacket over a ruffled poet shirt, her pearls a funky necklace I'd picked up at a garage sale last year.

"What kind of thing is that to say, Nicki?" Kelly's voice startled me.

I turned to answer, but she wasn't looking at me-she was looking at Barbie. "Your hair doesn't look so hot at the moment either."

Oh, shit. Kelly thinks Barbie is me.

"At least I have a sense of style," Barbie said snottily, using my voice. "You look as drab as a potato farmer. Always do. They make other shoes besides Birkeristocks, you know."

Kelly's chin went up. "What's your problem?"

I tried to tell her, but it was no use-my mouth was moving but nothing came out. When I tried to grab Kelly's shoulder, my hand went right through her.

With a rising sense of horror, I realized that I'd become like the ghosts who came to me for help-nobody could see or hear me.

"My problem?" The plastic surgery queen was enjoying herself, I could tell. "You're my problem. Everything was fine until you showed up." Barbie clasped her hands theatrically in front of her and said mockingly, "Oooh, poor me, I've been in a car accident." Her fake falsetto was evidently supposed to mimic Kelly's voice. "Take care of me, Nicki; save me, Joe! My mommy's dead. Boo-hoo, I want my mommy."

Kelly's gasp tore my heart.

"You think I don't know what you're up to, Kelly?" The horrible creature who looked just like me dropped the mocking falsetto, but kept talking. "You came to Atlanta hoping Joe would take you back, didn't you?" It smiled an ugly smile. "You must've been royally pissed when you found out we'd been sleeping together. He said I was better than you, by the way."

"Bitch," Kelly said. Tears glittered in her eyes, but didn't fall.

Barbie/Nicki gave a careless shrug. "The truth hurts." She trailed a finger over the Ouija board, still on the table. "And here's another truth for you. Joe told me he was still married to my sister, but I didn't care. I slept with him anyway. Seduced him, in fact. But after what happened tonight, I'm sick of him and his goody-goody ways. You can have him back-he's all yours." Slyly, Barbie added, "Hope you don't mind sloppy seconds."

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and there stood Joe, silhouetted in the light that spilled in from the florist shop.

"That's what I am to you?" The raw hurt in his voice bit like a knife into my heart. I tried to speak but it was useless and he didn't see me. He saw only the creature he thought was me.

Then the creature laughed, and I knew it had won.

"You knew what I was like when we started, Joe. I warned you, that day in the coffee shop," it said.

That's right-I had warned him.

Are you trying to tell me you'll break my heart? he'd asked.

You can keep your heart, I'd answered flippantly. It's not the part of your anatomy I'm interested in.

But that was before I knew what real love meant.

Joe paused at the top of the stairs, as though he had something else to say.

Or maybe he just wanted me to take one more long, last look at something I'd never have again.

Then the door slammed shut, creating a draft that almost blew out the candles.

Kelly took off up the stairs, swearing at me over her shoulder as she brushed past. "Dammit, Nicki. What the hell is wrong with you?"

And then I was alone in the basement with Psycho Barbie, candlelight flickering on the madness in her eyes.

Or maybe it was just a reflection of the tears in mine. "End the seance," came a whisper. "End the seance, Nicki."

I looked around wildly, wondering who else was in the basement.

"She's just a spirit, she has no substance. Send her away."

It was a woman's voice, raspy and low. I didn't recognize it.

"You're stronger than she is, even with the help of her master. Send her away."

The basement was dark, and I saw no one except Psycho Barbie, who morphed before my eyes back into her sleek blond self. The smirk on her perfectly made-up face made me itch to slap her.

"Focus, Nicki, focus. Speak the words and end the seance," came the raspy whisper.

The words? What words?

Hell, I'd make something up.

I cleared my throat, thrilled to find my voice working again. "Go away. The seance is over."

Psycho Barbie laughed again, mockingly.

"Your anger makes her stronger, Nicki. She's feeding on it."

I ceased to care who or where the whispers were coming from. Somebody wanted to help me, and I could use all the help I could get.

Doing my best to get a grip, I said shakily to Barbie, "I... I command you to leave." Truly improvising, I added, "I banish thee!" Who knows? Biblical language always seemed to work in horror movies.

Psycho Barbie's laughter faded. The flash of hatred in her eyes could've sparked a forest fire.

Emboldened, I went on. "I banish thee, O Spirit, and command you to go."

"In peace," came a whisper from the shadows.

"In peace," I added hastily. "I banish thee, O Spirit, and command you to go in peace."

Barbie's face got even uglier.

"May the peace of the Light be upon you." I was babbling now, grasping at vague memories of exorcist movies. "And the Force be with you."

The table between us started to shake, causing the candles to flicker.

"In the name of the Being Behind the Light"-I wasn't going to be hypocritical enough to claim I knew exactly who-or what-the Being was-"I command you to go in peace." Besides, who knew what would happen if I chose the wrong name?

Psycho Barbie opened her mouth and hissed at me like the cobra she was.

At least I thought the noise came from her, until the stupid tabby cat leapt up onto the table again. I was ready to strangle it until I realized it was hissing at Psycho Barbie, facing her down just like I was.

Good kitty. Sic her.

Barbie didn't like the cat. Her attention shifted from me to it, eyes slitted with rage.

My heart was pounding, and I willed it to slow down, welcoming the brief opportunity to get my fear and anger under control. If Barbie was feeding on my negative emotions, I needed to close the buffet.

"Go," I said, as calmly as I could. "Go back to wherever you came from, and stay there. You don't belong here."

"That's what they told me at the country club," Barbie said nastily.

Surprisingly, I felt a pang of pity. She must've lived a very isolated life-the rich man's mistress, kept in the shadows while her lover lived his life among society's elite. A status symbol to the men, scorned and despised by the women.

"That must've hurt your feelings."

"Like you care," she scoffed, but her voice lacked its usual edge of spitefulness.

Encouraged, I tried even harder to let go of my anger. I needed to generate good feelings, not bad ones. Knowing Psycho Barbie's biggest weakness was her vanity, I decided once again to use it. "Those people were just jealous because you're so beautiful."

Her face changed, some of the anger leaving it. "I am beautiful, aren't I?"

"You had everything those rich married women wanted," I went on. "Young, pretty, a wealthy boyfriend... all the perks of the good life without the responsibilities of kids and a mortgage." I'd seen enough HBO movies to improvise. "Pure jealousy, that's all."

"Those rich bitches were no better than me," Barbie said. "What made them think they were? Just because they were married didn't make them saints. They whored themselves for money, just like me." Her cynicism held a note of pain.

"Just jealous," I repeated. I had no doubt the married women of Buckhead Country Club viewed her as a threat. "But you don't have to worry about those women anymore. You don't even have to think about them."

Her image flickered, wavered like the candle flame.

The cat shifted into a sitting position, allowing its fur to settle. It stared intently at Barbie, tail twitching.

"You must be tired," I said to the wavering image. I sure as hell was.

"Speak the words, and send her away," came a whisper from the shadows. "Now, while she's weak."

As firmly as I could, I ordered, "Go in peace." For good measure, I added, "Get some beauty sleep."

Barbie looked confused, uncertain. And then lo and behold, she faded away until there was nothing left of her except the faint smell of Chanel No. 5.

I slumped in relief, grabbing the edge of the table for support. The black velvet tablecloth was soft, well-worn.

A small mew came from the cat. She rubbed herself against my arm, softer than any velvet, blessedly warm and alive.

"Good kitty," I said weakly. "Good kitty."

Then I looked around the basement for the source of the helpful whispers. "Hello?" The shadows were too dark. "Is anyone here?"

Silence met my questions. Scooping up my new best friend, I carried the cat up the stairs to the light switch and flipped it on.

The basement was empty. Nervously, I went down again, still carrying the cat, and blew out the candles. One last look around revealed nothing but books and purple draperies, and then I was so outta there.

CHAPTER 19.

Once outside, I put the cat down and let her run off into the night. Then I scooted across the front porch and let myself into the Blue Dahlia, unsure of what to do next.

Find Joe? Find Kelly? And tell them what, exactly?