"He'd be right." Kelly sounded more hurt than angry. "I was hoping that making the funeral arrangements for our mother would bring us closer, not drive us apart."

Guilt trip, anyone? And there was that "our mother" again.

"Okay, okay." I held out my hand for the casket book, secretly dreading even touching the damn thing. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? Show me the African mahogany... anything but the pink one."

"I thought you liked pink," Kelly said, eyeing the vivid streaks in my otherwise dark hair. "Peaches seemed to like it. She was wearing pink the first time I saw her."

"I do like pink," I answered. "I like lime green, too, but I wouldn't wanna be buried in it."

Kelly rolled her eyes, flipped open the book to a page near the back and handed it to me. I pretended to be fascinated at the differences between velvet and crepe bedding systems.

"What about the Angelica model? It has those beautiful guardian angel cornices."

I refrained from asking what a "cornice" was, and dutifully flipped through the book until I found the Angelica model. It was white with gaudy gold trim, but at least the interior wasn't pink.

"Great. Let's take it."

"You're not even trying, are you?"

My patience was shot. Rather than say something else I'd have to apologize for, I handed back the casket book and stood up. "I think this one's just fine, but if you wanna keep looking, feel free. In the meantime, I need to find the little girls' room."

Kelly eyed me warily. "You're coming back, aren't you?"

"I'm not going to abandon you in a funeral home." I'd meant it when I said I wasn't heartless-there was no way I was gonna leave an invalid in this dusty, depressing place.

I might strangle one, but I wouldn't leave one.

I left the office and headed down a corridor to the right. The hallway was lined with glass cases full of bronzed sculptures and marbled urns, all apparently designed to hold ashes. Like putting Grandpa's ashes above your fireplace was less creepy if you put them in something pretty. Ugh.

Thankfully, I found the ladies' room and went inside.

There was a woman leaning over the sink, touching up her mascara. She glanced at me briefly in the mirror. The black cocktail dress she was wearing fit her size four figure like a glove, the perfect foil to carefully highlighted blond hair. Big freshwater pearl necklace and bracelet. She had a glamorous look, like she was used to money, and plenty of it.

That's all I noticed before I slipped into a stall, except for a glimpse of strappy black heels. They couldn't possibly be Jimmy Choos. Georgia wasn't exactly known for high fashion.

The woman was still there when I came out. She gave me a little smile as she dabbed at her lipstick.

"I love your hair," she said. "Very Kelly Osborne."

"Thanks," I said, though I'd never cared for that particular comparison. I smiled back as I washed my hands, emboldened enough to take a second look at the shoes.

"Great stilettos," I said.

"Thanks. When I bought them, I considered them to die for, and I was right... they're killing me." The woman gave a laugh, then pulled back from the mirror. She tucked her lipstick away into a tiny black bag and turned to face me. "You've got a great look, even if it is a little 'out there.'" She tilted her head, eyeing me critically. "Ever tried modeling?"

Out there? Modeling? I didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Cheerleaders and beauty queens were hardly the type of girl I usually hung out with. My style was darker-a holdover from my goth days, I suppose-even though I did have a girlie side. Today, my black leather jacket was paired with a perfectly lovely yellow sundress, circa 1950s.

"I own a vintage clothing store." I snatched a paper towel to dry my hands. "Handbags and Gladrags, down in Little Five Points." Anyone who lived in the area would know the neighborhood, and if she didn't, it didn't matter. She didn't look like the type of woman who'd wear vintage anyway.

The woman smiled. She was very pretty in a Barbie doll sort of way, and looked out of place in this shabby bathroom with its faded wallpaper and its smell of cheap potpourri. I wondered who she was there to say good-bye to. Nobody would get that dressed up just to make arrangements-she was obviously there to see and be seen.

"You run your own business?" the woman asked. At my nod, she said, "Good for you. Don't be stupid enough to depend on a man to support you, like I was." Bitterness crept into her voice. "If I'd had something to fall back on, I wouldn't be here."

Whoa, She hardly looked the part of a grieving widow, even if she was wearing black. Her makeup was flawless, unsmudged by tears. She was older than I'd first thought, tiny lines around her eyes and lips that makeup didn't quite hide. I wondered how much plastic surgery she'd had.

"I'm sorry." I wasn't exactly sure what I was sorry for, but it seemed the appropriate thing to say. "Did you... did you lose someone?"

Her laugh raised the hair on my arms.

"Oh, I haven't lost him yet."

I tossed my paper towel into the trash basket and started edging for the door. The conversation was starting to get weird-why would anybody be hiding in a mortuary? "Well, I hope you find him soon," I offered lamely.

"Ask your sister where he is."

I stopped, hand on the door. I hadn't mentioned a sister.

"She needs to tell that bastard something for me."

I turned, not liking the suspicion that crept into my head, or the acid that seeped into her tone.

"She needs to tell him that if I'm going to Hell, I'm not going alone. He was the one who lied to his wife all those years, not me." The woman's face wasn't quite as pretty now, and her voice was even uglier. Her eyes had narrowed into slits.

"Maybe you should tell him yourself." No way was I gonna get in the middle of somebody else's love triangle-not with one of my own going on. Kinda. Sorta.

"Oh, I intend to." She gave an ugly chuckle. "The car accident was his fault, too-he'd been drinking at the country club before he picked me up." Her cherry-red lips curled in a sneer. "Keith Morgan never could resist a drink or a chance to schmooze. He killed us both, the drunken idiot." She stabbed a finger in my direction. "Tell your sister to ask him about that, why don't you?"

My heart sank. Another lost soul with unfinished business, and this time it was a Barbie doll with a mean streak. Why did this keep happening to me?

"That slimy weasel may have gotten out of marrying me while we were alive, but I'll be damned if he's going to make me face the afterlife alone." The woman was working herself up. "Whatever punishment I deserve, he deserves the same and more for being a low-down dirty dog who cheated on his wife. And a big fat liar."

What was that saying about "hell hath no fury"'?

She took a step closer, while I took a step back. "He's lying to your sister-enlisting her sympathy. He thinks he can save his soul in time to avoid paying for what he did."

He's a liar. Don't believe anything he says. Peaches's warning popped into my head. He'll go after Kelly first. Promise me you wont listen to him.

Oh, shit.

The blond woman's gaze turned inward, frustrated and bitter. "All those wasted years... getting older and older while I waited..." She spun back to the mirror, checking the skin around her eyes for wrinkles. Her voice hardened. "Now he wants to ditch me when I need him the most. I won't let him. I won't."

"Listen, I can't help you." I should've felt sorry for her, but I didn't. She wasn't very nice anymore, for one thing, and she'd been sleeping with another woman's husband. What kind of reward did she expect?

"Oh, yes, you can help." A sly expression came over the woman's face as she watched me in the mirror. "You can do a lot of things... more than you know."

"And just what do you expect me to do?" I stood my ground, unwilling to get involved with another pissed-off spirit. "It's not like I can order your dead boyfriend to 'go to Hell' and have him take me seriously."

She turned and looked me. "That's not what my master says."

Make that a Barbie doll with a mean streak and a taste for sadomasochism. "Um... yeah. Well, your master doesn't have any control over me."

"Are you sure?" I was so not liking that smirk. "What if he gave you everything you ever wanted, Nicki Styx?"

My blood ran cold. I'd never told her my name.

Hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt, I said, "I have everything I need, thanks."

There was a silence, and then-before my very eyes-the woman became someone else.

Literally.

One moment she was a blond beauty queen, two seconds later she was a dark-haired young woman, dressed in glam couture-heavy makeup, sleeked 1920s hairstyle, fabulous clothes. I recognized the chocolate silk and velvet dress as one from Marc Bouwer's fall line-I'd drooled over it in the pages of a magazine the week before. Everything matched the model in the photo, except for the woman's face, and the vivid pink streaks in her hair.

The model was me. I was staring at me.

"Money, power, eternal youth." The other Nicki's voice lowered, took on a seductive note. "Fame and fortune. Fashion designers falling at your feet while the public screams your name... wealth beyond your wildest dreams... anything your heart desires, Nicki, anything at all."

"No." I shook my head, finding it hard to believe what I was seeing. "Leave me alone."

She took a step toward me and I jerked back. The tiled wall was against my shoulders before I knew it.

The woman returned to her original form while I stared, speechless. In a few seconds I was once again looking at a bitter-eyed blond in Jimmy Choos. She tilted her head and smiled like we were best buddies.

"You know my master already," she wheedled, making me remember nights spent sitting in the dark with my girlfriends, a single candle flickering on the wall and a chalk pentagram on the floor. "Where's the bad girl with a dark side who wanted to form a coven, hmm? The girl who put a hex on her ex-boyfriend to make him shrivel every time he looked at someone else?" She gave me the sly smile of someone who shared a secret. "You could have powers like that, Nicki Styx, and more. The Master rewards his servants well when they give him what he wants, and you have something he wants."

Still in denial, I insisted, "I was a teenager. That was all just make-believe."

She stared at me, then said flatly, "It's never too late to make it real."

"You actually expect me to make some kind of deal with the Devil?"

She smiled suddenly, in a dazzling display of white teeth. The perfect smile of a perfect woman, no doubt honed over perfect dinners with her married lover. The look she gave me was one of pity.

"Oh, honey... I sold my soul to the Devil long ago, and it didn't hurt a bit."

--- "Kelly, let's get out of here."

I'd made a beeline for Mr. Bates's office without once looking over my shoulder. Hopefully, Psycho Barbie would stay in the ladies' room while I got my sister and her wheelchair out to the car. The office was empty, except for Kelly, and I started rolling her out without waiting for her reply.

No dead guy filling her head with lies. Good.

"You're being rude." Kelly grabbed the wheels with both hands, effectively stopping me in my tracks. "We haven't finished yet."

"Trust me-we're finished." I wanted to get as far away as possible from Psycho Barbie. Her boyfriend would likely end up in Hell with no help from me.

"I'm not leaving until we've picked out a casket. If you need to go, then go."

"I don't have time to drive all the way back out here a second time." Now was not the time to explain about pissed-off mistresses and deals with the Devil-now was the time to get the hell out of Dodge. "Evan's waiting for us at the shop. We were supposed to pick out a nice outfit for Peaches to be buried in, remember?"

Kelly shrugged. "I'm sure I can get Joe to pick me up and drive me back."

She said it lightly, but I didn't take it that way. "Joe's hardly yours to command anymore, now is he?"

"Well, he's not yours to command, either. The divorce papers haven't been signed yet."

Before I could respond, Mr. Bates walked back in, rubbing his hands briskly. He looked entirely too much like a man who enjoys his work. I couldn't help but wonder where those clammy hands had just been, and repressed a shudder.

"Well," he pulled out his chair, "made any decisions yet?"

"No," Kelly said, while I said, "Yes."

Cadaver-man checked in mid-sit, then let his weight carry him down. His chair creaked as he settled himself, but otherwise the silence was deafening. He gave us a fake sympathetic look and tried again.

"I know this is a difficult time. It's not unusual for families to disagree on the final arrangements. I'm sure we can settle on something that's agreeable to all parties." Cadaver-man patted the casket book like it was an old friend.

I leaned down and whispered in Kelly's ear. "I thought you liked the one with the guardian angel... um... thingies. Let's get it and go."

"I can't believe you," she whispered back. "And I like the one with the pink lining better."

Outmaneuvered and out of patience, I looked at Mr. Bates.

He gave me a bland smile, knowing perfectly well that whatever disagreement we'd just had, I'd just lost.

"Okay, okay. The pink one it is. Where do we sign?"

--- "What the hell was that all about?" Kelly was holding tightly to the armrests of her chair as I wheeled her toward the car.

I couldn't wait to leave Forest Lawn Mortuary behind. Just being outside was a relief, but I wasn't going to be satisfied until we were on the road.

Kelly kept talking. "You were very rude."

"You're not my mother, you know," I snapped. "I don't need a lecture." I was jittery, mildly hung over, and had no idea how I was going to discuss with Kelly the dangers of talking to dead people.

"No, you need a chill pill or something." We hit a bump and she gasped, "Could you slow down?"

I bit my lip and walked even faster.

Kelly muttered something I pretended not to hear as I opened the passenger side door and positioned her wheelchair so she could lift herself into the seat. By the time I folded up the empty chair and stuck it in the back, she was buckled up and ready to go.

I got in and started the car for the benefit of air-conditioning, but I wasn't going anywhere just yet. Might as well jump in with both feet.

"We've got a real problem, Kelly. We need to talk."

She looked at me, then sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry about the 'divorce papers' comment. It wasn't very nice, but you deserved it for the way you were acting."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"