I thought of the first visit, when I hadn't seen him at all, only felt him, then last night when he'd been there enough to leave me a turquoise coyote.

"Yes."

"Have you begun to see him even when you aren't dreaming?"

To begin with, I'd only sensed him, then I could have sworn his fur brushed my legs. Later I'd touched him and then I'd caught a glimpse of him standing on my bed, caressed the warmth left behind by a body that could not be there.

"Yes," I said.

Sani nodded. "He's between worlds."

"I don't know what that means."

"Only the most powerful of sorcerers could manage this much, and then only because the two of you have a connection that stretches the boundaries of earth and beyond. But he's going to need more a.s.sistance to take that final step."

"a.s.sistance," I repeated. "As in more dream s.e.x?"

"Can't hurt."

Except it did. Every time I dreamed of touching Sawyer in the night, then woke up alone in the morning, it hurt. A lot.

"If I do that"-or him-"eventually I'll bring Sawyer forth?"

"You're going to need help."

"That's why I'm here."

"More than I can give."

"But-"

"Sawyer's stuck between worlds," he repeated. "If he could come to you he would have." Sani gestured at the fading circle in the dirt.

"Who can help?"

The coyote's mouth lolled open. "First, payment must be made."

I glanced at him sharply. "What kind?" In my world, payment was seldom in currency I wanted to give.

"Sawyer left you that fetish for a reason, child."

"Oh! Right." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the turquoise coyote. "Uh. Here." I let the icon rest in my palm and extended my hand, fighting not to flinch when Sani trotted closer.

But he merely snuffled the stone into his mouth, leaving a slash of snot behind. I was such a mess already it hardly mattered. A second later, the sky filled with silver light, and a man stood before me.

Perhaps eighteen or twenty, with inky, dark hair long enough to brush the curve of his naked backside. His skin was bronze all over, his muscles long and lean from centuries of running through the trees on four paws. His face was unlined, stark bones beneath wide cheeks, his eyes as black as his hair.

"Why do they call you Old One?" I asked.

"Because I am." I lifted a brow. "Skinwalkers don't age."

"Sawyer was a child once." Or so he'd said. I wasn't quite sure I believed him.

"But he's been a young man for centuries. Though we're born like humans, we grow like magic. It is in our blood."

I thought of Faith, and I knew he was right. "And then?"

"We stop aging when the magic becomes ours."

So murder made us more than sorcerers. Murder made us forever young, too. I could see where some might consider this a pretty good trade. Some but not me. Unfortunately I hadn't had any choice in the matter.

"Are you going to leave the mountain now?" I asked, concerned that I'd just unleashed a very bad guy into the world, although, again, I hadn't had much choice.

Sani stared at the turquoise wolf between his fingers, then smiled and lifted his face to the sun. He yipped, just like a coyote, and moments later a gray female appeared in the shadow of the trees. Her doey brown gaze focused on Sani, but she didn't appear afraid.

He crossed to a large flat rock, dug a hole, laid the turquoise within and then covered it up. Pa.s.sing his hand over the obviously disturbed dirt, he muttered a few words in Navajo, and the earth smoothed out as gra.s.s sprouted like springtime. There was so much I didn't know about what I was.

"No," Sani said.

It took me a second to remember what I'd asked. "You're staying?"

He glanced at the coyote in the trees, and his face softened. "For now."

Left unspoken were the words, As long as she lives.

I swallowed against a sudden thickness in my throat. Love hurt.

Leaning forward, Sani placed his hand against the new gra.s.s. His outline shimmered and in a flash, he was a coyote again. His mate bounded out of the trees, jumping onto his back and then rolling onto hers, presenting her belly in perfect beta submission. She'd obviously never cared that he was different, that he wasn't completely a coyote. True love never did.

They began to run off. "Hey!" I whistled. "Buddy."

Sani stopped then nuzzled his mate, who disappeared into the trees, before trotting back.

"Forget anything?" I asked. He tilted his head. I pointed at the rock where the fetish lay buried. "I paid, you talk."

For an instant I feared that giving Sani the icon had taken away his voice. But I guess once a talking coyote, always a talking coyote, because he spoke. "There is someone you must see, but it won't be easy."

"Wow. Not easy," I deadpanned. "That's new."

He ignored me. I guess age does grant wisdom.

"If you still want to bring Sawyer forth, only this man possesses the knowledge of how."

"Who is he, and where can I find him?"

"You'll find Mait in an old church near New Orleans."

New Orleans. The perfect place for someone who could raise a ghost.

"How near New Orleans?"

"Honey Island Swamp. Look for the crossroads."

"Can you be more specific?"

"No. But I doubt there are very many abandoned churches in the swamp at a crossroads."

"There better not be," I muttered. "So this guy is a bokor?"

"He came from Haiti ages ago, but he's not a voodoo priest. He's more of a magical bodyguard, named after Mait-Carrefour-the G.o.d of magicians. He's a bringer of bad luck and the ruler of night demons."

"What is he?" I spread my hands. "A voodoo spirit? A G.o.d?"

"I'm not sure. He protects things. He makes magic. I've heard he's a necromancer as well."

I spread my hands wider.

"A witch who can raise the dead, usually for purposes of divination. Sometimes with the entrails of the dearly departed."

I couldn't wait to meet this guy.

"How does he do all this?" I asked.

"He uses a book of prophecy and magic."

I stilled. "What kind of book?"

"Grimoire."

The Key of Solomon. Had something actually come easily?

"In it are spells that reveal mysteries beyond the understanding of humans, along with hints of how to win the coming war between good and evil. They say it was dictated by a demon to his offspring here on earth. Mait keeps it near him at all times, and protects those secrets with his life."

A chill wind seemed to sweep across the mountain, though not a single gust stirred the trees.

Not the Key of Solomon. The Book of Samyaza.

"How do you know about this?" I asked.

"I am not completely cut off from the world."

"Yet you didn't know that Ruthie or Sawyer was dead."

"I haven't exactly been in contact with those on the side of the light."

"Still, I'd think the forces of doom would be thrilled to inform you that we'd lost both our leader and a powerful ally."

Sani huffed breath through his nose. "I did know you'd lost your leader. When I was banished, however, Ruthie was but an underling."

Ruthie an underling? I couldn't imagine it.

I opened my mouth to ask about her past, about the previous leader of the light. Sani spoke instead. "And I have my doubts that Sawyer is dead, as well as whose side he's actually on."

I had doubts about that, too.

"Mait is protecting the grimoire," Sani continued. "He has killed everyone who has tried to take it from him."

"You think it's a good idea for me to visit a guy who keeps Satan's handbook on his nightstand?"

"I think that if you want to talk to Sawyer, you'll have to. Besides-" Sani's coyote shoulders rippled in a canine shrug. "-he can't kill you."

Even if he could, it didn't matter. I had to get my hands on that book-and not just to raise Sawyer. According to legend, whoever carried the Book of Samyaza was invincible.

Which made me wonder why-if they had it-the Nephilim weren't already marching across the earth, laying waste to cities, and munching on the citizenry like a never-ending human buffet. I guess I'd just have to go and find out.

Sure, I was nervous. Not only was I going to meet with a half demon who'd been a.s.signed by other half demons-or maybe a whole demon, who knew?-to protect what amounted to the Holy Grail of the Apocalypse, but I was being sent there by someone I trusted about as much as I'd once trusted Sawyer.

Sawyer had walked the line between good and evil, but Sani? I thought he lived over there in the dark. Why else would Sawyer have banished him?

Regardless of whether Sani was on our side or theirs, if the Book of Samyaza was in New Orleans and if it actually contained a spell to bring forth Sawyer's ghost, I'd go there and I'd take it. Someone had to.

In the distance, Sani's mate called. Sani fidgeted, looking in that direction, then back at me, then into the trees again. I needed to ask my questions before he gave in to the call of the wild.

"You're telling me there's a spell in the book that will raise a ghost?" I asked.

"No."

I lost it. "Dammit, Sani! You just said-"

"The time for raising ghosts is past, at least with Sawyer."

"Past?" My voice came out faint, like a lost little girl in the night.

"Sawyer has climbed out of the afterworld with your help. Now you must raise him completely or let him wander forever between here and there. Your choice."

"Raise him completely," I repeated. "As in . . ." My voice trailed off. I was more lost than ever.

"The spell in the Book of Samyaza doesn't raise ghosts," Sani said. "The spell raises the dead back to life."

CHAPTER 22.