ELVIS HAD NEVER LOOKED BETTER. HE WORE HIS NEW cape, the white one with the high, flared collar and the glittering rhinestone trim. The sunglasses gave him a dashing air of mystery.

With a star's unerring instinct for the spotlight, he had managed to find the most dramatically lit position in the room, the center of the Guild boss's vast desk. The light from the nearby lamp struck small sparks off the rhinestones.

"Don't think I've ever seen a dust bunny wearing a cape and sunglasses," Fontana said.

His full name was John Fontana, but as far as Sierra McIntyre had been able to determine, no one called the new chief of the Crystal City Ghost Hunter's Guild anything except Fontana.

She looked up from her notes, distracted, and smiled in spite of her tension. If you didn't notice the six tiny paws that were just barely visible in the fluffy gray fur and the innocent bright-blue daylight eyes, it would have been easy to mistake Elvis for a large ball of dryer lint; in this case, a ball of lint in a cape and sunglasses.

"Elvis has a sense of style," she said proudly. "He knows what looks good on him."

Fontana leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I can see that. How did you end up with a dust bunny for a pet?"

The black and amber ring on his powerful hand glinted ominously.