As I lifted my head, he blinked, realizing his gender blunder. “Look, lady, this is private property. You wanna join, you gotta talk to Ted.”

I looked him full in the eyes, and switched on my blinding power.

“You deaf or something, hon?” he said. “I know I’m good-looking, but you ain’t my type. Stop staring and start walking or I’m going to introduce my boot to your pretty butt.”

As quick as I am to correct an insult, I’m just as quick to recognize an obstacle when I see one. Sure, I could probably just kick his ass the old-fashioned way, but that might tip off my quarry. So I murmured an insincere apology and trekked back down to the end of the laneway.

As a kid, when my mother had harangued me to get involved in extracurricular activities, I’d signed up for track-and-field. Was pretty damned good at it, too. Got to the city finals. I can still remember that moment, poised at the starting gate, before a crowd that had included my mother and all the Coven Elders. I crouched, waiting for the starter pistol, then leapt forward…and snagged my shoelace in the gate. Fell flat on my face. And that was pretty much how I felt now. My first job in the ghost world, and I was sucking dust at the starting line.

The worst of it was that, like forgetting to tie my shoe, my mistake was inexcusable. That earth-spook bouncer had clearly known I was a ghost—that’s why he’d stepped into my path. How had he known? I’d been careful not to walk through anything. And why hadn’t I recognized what he was? Basic afterlife skills. Time to admit I needed help.

My house was in Savannah’s historic district. Before my daughter had been born, I’d scoured the supernatural world for greater sources of power, and a few of those stops had been in Savannah. I’d loved the place. I don’t know why. Savannah was the epitome of genteel Southern charm, and there wasn’t an ounce of gentility or charm in my body, nor did I want there to be. Yet something about the city struck a chord in me, so much so that I’d named my daughter after it. After I died, and had my pick of places to live, I’d chosen Savannah.

My house was a two-story antebellum manor, both levels decked out with verandahs and thin columns looped with ivy. A squat wrought-iron fence fronted the tiny yard, which was filled with so many palms, ferns, and rhododendrons that I had yet to see a blade of grass.