Someone touched my arm. I wheeled, but no one was there. I rubbed the spot. Probably a butterfly brushing past. It wouldn't be a ghost-with them I only got sight and sound, no touch.

I checked the schedule Becky had given me. Three interviews plus-

Fingers clasped my free hand. Resisting the urge to yank away, I looked down. Nothing. Yet I could feel the unmistakable sensation of a hand holding mine.

My gut went cold. This was how it had started with Nan. A lifetime of seeing what shouldn't be there and eventually she started imagining what she knew couldn't be there. That's what happens to necromancers, and that's what I am, same as my Nan.

Like most supernatural powers, necromancy runs in the blood. It often skips a generation or two, but in our family no one is spared. We see and hear the dead, and they are relentless in their quest to be heard. I may have learned a way to profit from my powers, but if I could be free of the ghosts, I'd give it up in a heartbeat and muddle through like every other con artist in the business. Better that than this long, cursed road that ends in madness.

The fingers slid from my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Once before I'd had a ghost who'd been able to touch me. Didn't hold my hand, though. She'd sunk her fangs into my neck and nearly killed me, all because she couldn't make contact the normal way. Typical vampire-thinks the world exists to serve them.

But the chance that I'd encounter another dead vamp was remote. Extremely rare to begin with, they're so uncommon in the afterlife that I'd found only unconfirmed ancient tales of necromancers contacting one. If a vampire is already dead when it walks this world, where does one go when it passes into the next?

Somehow Natasha had clawed her way back and made contact with me, physical contact, as this ghost had now done. I rubbed the spot on my neck and cast a nervous glance around.