Kris got to his feet as I conjured fresh clothing. “I’m right beside you. But even if the Nix does get to Jaime before we do, Jaime’s not about to volunteer her body for full spirit possession, certainly not to an unknown spirit.”

Finding Jaime wouldn’t be a problem. Because of her erratic schedule, we’d already worked out a system so I could track her down if I needed help. If she was out, she’d leave me a note on her desk, where I could read it.

I recalled Jaime mentioning earlier that she’d be in Sacramento for a couple of shows this week, and when we got to her apartment, the note she’d left confirmed she was already gone. She’d even penciled in her schedule in both local and Pacific time, to avoid confusion.

“Very considerate,” Kris said.

“Unless she thinks I’m the one lacking a few brain cells.”

He laughed. “There are probably misconceptions on both sides.” He peered down at the paper. “So her show finished an hour ago, with nothing scheduled before or after. Either she’s still at the theater, or she’s headed back to her hotel.”

“For which we have a name, but no room number, which she probably didn’t know at the time. She says it’ll be a suite on one of the top floors. That should narrow it down…I hope.”

“Do you want to take that, then? And I’ll search the theater.”

I agreed, and we left.

Chapter 38

38

BEING A GHOST SEARCHING THROUGH HOTEL ROOMS at eleven P.M. has its drawbacks—namely unwitting voyeurism. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could have picked up something useful—a new technique, a new position, a new game—but it was all pretty pedestrian stuff. Even the businessmen who’d sprung for high-class hookers weren’t doing anything that they probably couldn’t have done at home with their wives. That made me wonder how many halves—or wholes—of these copulating couples had a wife or husband or lover at home, and what they thought they were doing, risking that relationship simply for a momentary change of pace…and change of face.

I finished the first floor of suites, climbed to the second, stepped into the first room…and found the Nix and Jaime kneeling across from each other, a host of necromancy implements between them.

“Hey!” I said, racing toward them. “What the hell are you doing?”

The Nix’s gaze flicked my way, then turned back to Jaime, who was nibbling her lower lip, staring down at the necromantic altar.

“I’m not—I’m really uncomfortable with this,” Jaime said.

“No shit!” I said, planting myself over the altar. “If this is what it looks like—Damn it, Jaime, that’s the Nix—the demi-demon I’ve been chasing.”