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“Hazel,” she replied warily. “You see me.”

“I do,” I answered, easing to the edge of the bed to gaze down at my feet. Feet still in wet, muddy sneakers. I toed them off and peeled away my sodden socks. My feet were wrinkled like Yeye’s beloved prunes. They smelled worse than his prunes, though. I glanced up at the spirit hovering in front of me. “Hazel, are you a resident ghost?”

“I don’t know what that means,” she said as her feather duster disappeared into nothingness. She was a plump woman, older, with no visible signs of a violent death, but something in her past, her death, had trapped her here.

“It just means that you reside here. At the motel.” I waved a grimy hand around. Man, I really needed a shower, some aspirin, and a meal. Yeye and Monique would be here tomorrow, and I was going to need all the Qi I could manage to recover. He was not going to be happy about Phil’s injury or the reason we were even at that damned camp. I hoped when I explained our thought process he’d be cool about it, but I had my doubts. “Are you stuck here?”

“Yes, I want to go over, but I can’t.”

“Did you die here?”

“Yes, sir, I did. Just in the next room. A man I didn’t know come in when I was cleaning and knocked me down and held a pillow over my face. That was that.”

“I’m so sorry for your ending. That is not how a woman who works as hard as you should meet your end.”

“Thank you kindly, sir. Can you send me over? If you can see me and speak with me, do you have gifts to guide me across?”

Here was where I stumbled. I shook my head, sadly, side to side. “I’m not sure. I have a key at home, safely tucked away, but I’ve not tried to open the door to the other side again.”

She sighed and reached behind her to find a ghostly canister vacuum, which floated by her foot, one of them was bare, I just noticed.

“Thank you just the same,” she whispered then phased through the wall before I could call her back to explain that I was willing to come back and try.

With a huff of exasperation at my own shortcomings, I eased off the mattress and padded into the bathroom to shower. As the hot water soaked my hair, I stood under the stream, eyes closed, thinking. That key the Loa God had left me had been locked away in a small safe we had in Yeye’s bedroom closet. I’d been tempted to use it several times since Papa Legba had gifted it to me, but every time I entertained the notion, something held me back. I’d never spoken to Monique about it, but she surely knew I had it. The livestream from the sanatorium had shown the key plainly. Perhaps the voodoo priestess my grandfather called sugar pie was waiting for me to broach the subject. Perhaps I would when we were back home, and this nightmare was behind us. For now, I just wanted to be clean, get some food, and curl back up with Phil. My life force was still terribly low. It would take days to replenish it. Days that I needed to be working on schoolwork as the days were ticking past. Yeah, we had an extension blah, blah, blah, but I’d rather not rely on anything Senator Kestrel said or promised.

Phil was stirring when I exited the bathroom, steam rolling out after me. He gave me a lazy smile that helped ease the upset of this entire escapade. I fell back into bed, damp hair, glasses in hand, and stole a dozen kisses from my boyfriend before sleep called to me once more.

I was warm and clean. Phil was under me. And somehow my dick wasn’t in charge of things, which was pretty surprising. Anytime I had Phil beneath me, my cock was leading the way. Guess a depleted reservoir of life energy needed to be refilled before getting off. Color me all kinds of shocked.

This nap was different from the tumble off Exhaustion Mountain. It was gentler, the arrival a soft landing beside a pond covered with dark green leaves and stalks of lotus bursting open when I touched down with bare toes. The smell of the flowers was glorious. I knew instantly my mother’s spirit was close at hand. I sat at the water’s edge, unafraid, and dipped my toes into the pond. White fish with long whiskers nibbled at my toes. I wanted to linger here forever with the scent of my mother on the warm winds. Glancing up from the fish, I saw a swirling cloud of dark mist appear. The lotus flowers bent to and fro. The fish leaped from the water in joy.

A man appeared on the other side of the pond. Clad in a scarlet Hanfu with frayed edges, his robes moved around him as if alive. Soft blue light fizzled around his outline like an aura of magic. His appearance was sharp, resolute, demanding respect. A handsome yet stern face marred by a set of dull reddish scars that ran across his cheek to his lip. From a demon, I assumed. Dayum, this dude was impressive!

His hair was pulled back into a large bun—or Ji—atop his head. Staring at this man, I knew his hair would be down to his ankles if loose. It was once believed hair was a sacred gift from one’s parents and should never be cut, so his would be exceptionally long and shiny as a raven’s wing when worn down. At his hip hung a peach wood sword. He held a bronze mirror and a paintbrush damp with either blood or a rich cinnabar paint in his hands. Those hands also bore scars. A crisscross of them on the backs.

“Young Kee, do you know who I am?” he asked in a voice that rumbled like thunder.

“A priest,” I offered and got a brisk nod. He floated above the shore, the tips of his black cloud shoes peeking out now and again.

“I am Kee Huang.”

Oh. Oh wow. This was not your normal dream. This was a vision. My ancestor had something to tell me, and I would be a numbskull not to pay heed. I immediately pulled my wet feet from the pond and bowed deeply as I remained kneeling.

“It is an honor to be visited by you,” I said, nose touching soft green grass.

“Look upon me, Archimedes Kee.”

I lifted my head to gaze at the famed ghost hunter. He looked to be thirty, but perhaps he was three hundred. The white fish rolled about in the water, shaking the lotus flowers as they played.

“You are a novice with much to learn.” He didn’t seem mad, just stating a fact.

“Yes, revered ancestor, I am a foundling fool.”

“Youth makes you impatient. You move too fast, little koi. You think because your eyes are sharp and your limbs quick that you are ready to face the hungry dead. And while you possess great skills, your age makes you foolhardy. Look at this sword.” He held aloft the glowing peach wood sword. “When I was your age, I thought its power came from my swing. But that is not what empowers it. Its power comes from the stillness of the heart directing it. Your youth fills you with a hot energy, a bright Yang energy. That is good as well as bad. Do not empty your satchel of talismans at the first chill in the air. Youth wants to fight, to conquer, to banish. A true master of the hunt knows some spirits do not need to be struck down. They simply need to be heard or outlasted. Learn to walk through the graveyard without waking the grass.”

Wow, that was cryptic. “So I need to chill out?” He cocked a black brow. “To learn patience.”

“Yes, you must learn to quiet your blood. When you can stand in the freezing yin of a burial mound and keep your inner flame small, steady, and hidden, only then will you be a true hunter and not the prey.”