"More power to her," Joe said, and promptly fell over. Thankfully, the couch was right there, under his cheek. His light snores began almost immediately.

"He's really tired," I said, giving Evan and Butch a rueful grin. "Poor baby." I bent over, smoothing a dark lock of hair from Joe's unconscious forehead. "He's been very busy taking care of me."

"Thank God," Evan said. He drained his martini in one gulp, plunking the glass down on the coffee table. "Somebody sure needs to."

Butch was thoughtful. "So Peaches's death was no accident."

I sighed, taking a sip of wine. "My near death experience drew the Devil's attention. Once the 'knack' kicked in, my ability to see spirits-to steer them away from the Light-became a tool he wanted to use. He wanted Peaches to corrupt us, help sway us in his direction, but she wouldn't. She tried to get to us first."

"So he killed her."

"That's what she said."

"Wow. The Devil plays dirty."

The only way to win against evil is not to play the game.

I couldn't help but wish Peaches had never played.

"Gives a whole new meaning to your nickname, Devil Doll." Evan looked at me strangely.

Just hearing those two familiar words sent a chill down my spine.

"Yeah. Don't call me that anymore, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sure I can think of plenty other names to call you."

"Skank."

"'Ho."

Feeling better already, I raised my glass in a salute. "To the freaks of the world-may our flags ever wave."

"Here, here," said Butch, with a sip of dry martini.

"Amen, sister," Evan finished, with a hand to his heart.

I looked around my living room, at the familiar walls, the worn velvet sofa I'd bought at a garage sale, the battered old chest I used as a coffee table. The Blue Dahlia was a cool old house, and Savannah was a charming old city, but there was no place like home.

Little Five Points, Georgia, was stuck with me.

By Terri Garey.

A Match Made in Hell.

Dead Girls Are Easy.