She looked back as we tromped in, nodded. And a flush rose on her cheeks when she caught sight of Connor.

“You know me, Connor, and Theo,” I said. “This is Petra Jassim. Petra, Ariel Shaw.”

“Hi,” Ariel said.

“Hi,” Petra said. “I’d offer a handshake, but . . .” She held up a gloved hand.

Ariel just looked at it blankly. “But . . . you have an infection?”

“She’s an aeromancer,” I said. “She’ll shock you. Literally.”

Ariel’s eyebrows lifted in interest. “No shit.”

“Zero. Necromancer, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

I had a feeling we were witnessing the blooming of a very weird friendship.

“I reserved the party room for two hours,” Ariel said. “I have a roommate, and she doesn’t like ghosts in the apartment.”

Who could blame her?

“So what am I working from?”

Petra pulled out the vial from yesterday. “Will this be enough?”

Ariel grimaced as she took it, held it up to the light. “It’s very green.”

“Is that unusual?” I asked.

“No clue.” She lowered the vial again, looked at us. “We usually have stuff that belonged to the deceased. A watch. A hat. That kind of thing. Not their . . . fluids.”

“There were no watches or hats at the gate,” I said. “We’re working with what we’ve got.”

“Which is 1872?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “If it helps, the magic probably wasn’t done by a sorcerer.”

“Well, obviously,” Ariel said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s ghosts. I mean, at most a sorcerer might help kindle the magic, but this is necromancer territory.”

That confirmed Uncle Malik’s take.

“How does this work, exactly?” Theo asked. “The necromancing?”

“With eye of newt and graveyard dust,” Ariel said.

His gaze remained level. “I’m pretty sure you’re kidding, but as I’ve never been at a séance before, I’m not entirely sure.”

“I’ll do my prep, try to make contact. I’m powerful enough to share the ghost’s image, or at least as much of it as I can produce on short notice. Go get a drink if you want, then find a spot and stay there. We want as little movement as possible while we’re communicating. It’s distracting.”

Theo took a coffee stirrer and was shoving it into his cast. He closed his eyes, and I was half-surprised his back leg didn’t wiggle like a dog’s as he scratched with obvious enjoyment.

“This is going to be a long recovery,” I murmured, taking a seat on the end of the couch.

“Good Ombuds itch their partners,” Theo said, sitting beside me.

“That’s not even remotely true, and you just got to second base with that coffee stirrer. She’s your partner now.”

Connor snorted, leaned against the arm of the sofa near me as Petra sat on the floor, legs crossed.

Ariel pulled ceremonial objects from a black leather backpack: a candle, a silver bell, a piece of indigo silk. She placed the silk on the coffee table—around which hundreds of bridal shower guests had probably gathered—and put the candle, the bell, and the vial we had given her atop it.