I’d found Robin MacKenzie’s grave earlier, so I led Jaime straight there and waited while she set up, then spent another hour waiting while she coaxed MacKenzie out. The Fates and their ilk keep a pretty tight lock on the nastier areas of the afterlife.

Finally, a ghost popped through. In my vision, I’d only seen MacKenzie from the back. This spook fit: average size, sandy brown hair, scrawnier than I remembered, but I guess a decade in prison took its toll.

“Robin MacKenzie?” Jaime said.

He looked around, deer-in-the-headlights stunned, then saw Jaime. He gave her a slow once-over, grin broadening by the second. Then his gaze slid to me and his grin widened.

“Hell-o, ladies,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

“Robin MacKenzie?” Jaime repeated.

“Uh, yeah. Right.” He shook himself and stretched. “Sorry if I’m a bit slow on the uptake. Never been called out by a necromancer before.” He paused. “That is what you two ladies are, right? Necromancers?”

Jaime nodded.

“Sweet.” He gave us each another once-over, his grin returning. “Very sweet. So…what can I do for you ladies? Looking for a little incubus action?”

I slipped off my tombstone and strolled over to him. “Is that what you think you’re here for?”

“Well, heh-heh, let’s just say it’s what I’m hoping I’m here for. A little ghostly ménage à…uh, a three-some.”

I kicked him in the back of the knees. As he crumbled, I grabbed his collar and threw him face-first into the dirt. Kind of blew my cover, but it was a bit late to worry about that.

“Let me give you a hint,” I said, leaning down to his ear. “This isn’t foreplay.”

He let out a gurgle, and tried to rise, but I ground his face into the dirt. He writhed and coughed.

“Stop faking it,” I said. “You’re dead—you can’t choke. But there are a few other discomforts I can dream up. Any more ménage à trois notions, and we’ll put my creative abilities to the test…right before I toss your murdering ass back down to hell. Got it?”

He sputtered, eyes saucer-wide. “Murdering…? Look, ladies, I don’t know who you’re looking for—”

I glared at him. “You aren’t Robin MacKenzie, are you?”

“Shit, no. I saw you ladies hanging around, trying to get hold of this Robin dude, and I figured if he doesn’t want to answer, I will. I mean, shit…” His gaze traveled over me. “Can’t blame a ghost for trying, right?”

I hauled him over to Jaime’s altar, bent over her bowl of vervain, blew the smoke into his face, and watched him fade away. Then I turned to Jaime, who was sitting there, head in her hands.

“Sorry about that,” I said.