I grew hopeful. “Because they don’t exist here?”

  “According to Starla, they do exist and will continue to exist for as long as you’re here,” Mitzi said.

  Whoever Starla was, I wanted to clobber her with a rubber chicken right now. “Why? We’re not in the physical world anymore.”

  “Divine Place isn’t your happy place. It’s limbo. If you’d ended up somewhere like Elysian Fields or Tushita, they’d be gone. On the flip side, if you’d ended up somewhere like Hell, you might have them every five minutes for eternity.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “But if I’m dead, I won’t age, right? So does that mean I’ll have hot flashes off and on for eternity if I stay here?”

  Mitzi looked appalled at the idea. “You’d have to ask Starla. I never quite made it that far.”

  “You’re not missing out,” I assured her.

  “What does it feel like?” Mitzi asked.

  “Like your whole body is burning from the inside out for thirty seconds a pop,” I said. “It’s like the spirit of every witch burned at the stake is trying to remind middle-aged women everywhere that it could’ve easily been them.” I scratched my head. “What’s Tushita? I don’t know that word.”

  “The heaven for contented souls in Buddhist culture,” she replied.

  “Contented souls,” I said softly. I imagined a ghost lounging around on a recliner with an endless bowl of popcorn resting on his belly and a cold beer in his hand. “That sounds nice.”

  “We have a couple of options here that might ease them,” Mitzi said. “We have repeat customers for those potions, so they must help.”

  I lit up. “I’ll take a bottle of your strongest antidote, please.”

  “It’s not so much an antidote as an…”

  I silenced her with a look. “I don’t need the fine print. Just find me the bottle.”

  Mitzi recoiled slightly. “They’re right there. Next shelf over.” She seemed too wary to gesture past me. I wondered how she managed to live among all these supernaturals when she seemed afraid of her own shadow. It had to be torture for someone as skittish as her.

  I turned to examine the labels on the shelf behind me and pointed. “Which one of these three is the most potent?” Burning Down the House, Sizzle, and Fire in the Hole sounded equally strong.

  “Oh, not those,” Mitzi said quickly. “You want either Tundra, Ice, Ice, Baby, or Cool as a Cucumber.”

  I snatched Tundra from the shelf. “This sounds like it’s the most powerful.”

  “That’s the one Starla favors,” Mitzi said. “Take one sip each morning with breakfast.”

  “Great. The fewer distractions, the better while I try to solve this murder. The last thing I want is to hunt down the killer and then get a hot flash during the critical moment.”

  Mitzi canted her head and I saw the question in her eyes before she even asked it. “Why do you want to solve the murder?”

  “Because Hera appointed me marshal,” I said.

  “She appointed you marshal because you wanted to solve the murder.”

  “Not exactly.” I paused. “Well, sort of.”

  “You didn’t know Zeus. Why do you care so much what happened to him? A lot of those who knew him don’t even care. They’re just happy he’s gone.”

  “Hera’s going to obliterate me if I don’t solve the case,” I said.

  Mitzi gasped. “She can’t do that.”

  “Who’s going to stop her?”

  “Then I definitely want you to be able to communicate with your cat. Talking to Daisy is the best part of my day.” Mitzi added a dash of white powder and a puff of smoke rose from the surface of the cauldron. She grabbed an empty bottle from the basket and siphoned the mixture into it from the cauldron. Next she sealed the liquid inside by using a lid that reminded me of a wine cork. “If you need a lid extractor, we sell those too.”

  “Oh no. I could get that off with my teeth if I had to.” I had experience in that regard. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Mitzi gave me a puzzled look before returning her attention to the book. “I’m going to jot down the words you need to say when you and your cat drink this.”

  “Wait. We both need to drink that gnarly garbage?” I eyed the strange mix of colors swirling around in the bottle.

  “If you want to communicate with each other, then yes,” Mitzi said. “If only one of you drinks, it won’t work.” She secured the paper with the chant to the bottle and I accepted it begrudgingly.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Why don’t you come to the counter and I’ll ring you up? If the potion doesn’t work, I’m sure you’ll be able to get a refund.”

  “There aren’t any potential side effects, right? I mean, if you messed up the potion, I’m not going to end up deaf in one ear or turn into a cat or anything?”

  Mitzi’s hesitation wasn’t comforting. “Let me know if you do and I’m sure we can help.” She tallied up the purchases and I debated whether to give her the DP card that Barney had given me. Since I didn’t know how much money was on it, I decided to try something else.

  “Put it on my tab,” I said airily. If Cole could have a tab at Bloodlust, then why couldn’t I have one here?

  “You don’t have a tab.”

  “I will if you start one for me.” I leaned my elbows on the counter in a casual gesture. “You’ve been pretty awesome today. Maybe we could hang out sometime with our cats. It would be nice to have a friend in this place. I’ll be honest. This whole experience has been really isolating.” I figured the claim of isolation would appeal to her. Mitzi didn’t strike me as someone with too many friends.

  The witch peered to one side and then the other before seeming to reach a decision. “Okay, I’ll start a tab, but please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  I took the bag and offered a reassuring smile. “No need to worry about that with me. I’ll be as silent as my grave.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The only thing that resulted from Mitzi’s potion was a stomachache on my end and diarrhea from Mischief’s end. Served me right for forcing her to make the potion and then starting a tab. I’d just scrubbed away another patch on the floor when a knock at the door startled me. Mischief glowered from her corner of the room, still angry with me for subjecting her to the vile liquid.

  I opened the door and my stomach plummeted when I saw Cole standing there in all his blindingly handsome glory. It seemed to me that a demigod should have the decency to look only mildly godlike since he didn’t have the full set of divine genes.

  “Hey, I heard about your cat.” His eyes dragged over me. “You look…” He faltered. “Are you hungover?”

  “No, I tried a potion that Mitzi made for me over at True Brew.” I padded back to the kitchen to make another attempt to communicate with Mischief. As long as we were both suffering from the effects of the potion, I figured there was a chance the magic would work.

  Cole trailed behind me. “Did you just say that Mitzi brewed you a potion?”

  “Not a very good one,” I said. “So far, it hasn’t done the job.” Mischief was on the counter now, so I bent toward her and stared intently into her blue eyes.

  Cole smothered a laugh. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to communicate with Mischief. That’s what the potion was for. I want her to tell me how she found me here.”

  Mischief meowed at Cole.

  “I hate to break the news to you, but if Mitzi prepared the potion, I think you’re wasting your time. She’s not known for her magic skills.”

  I straightened and turned to face him. “That’s what she said, but I assumed she was being modest.” Lots of girls I knew were like that because society had taught them to downplay their skills and abilities.

  “Oh, she wasn’t being modest,” Cole said. “She’s a terrible witch.”

  My stomach was inclined to agree. “I guess I’ll request that refund.” On the tab I had no intention of paying.

  “We can try a psychic,” Cole said.

  “To help with the investigation? Why didn’t you say so? We could’ve asked a psychic to be the marshal from the beginning.”

  He shook his head. “Not for the murder. For your cat. They might be able to help the two of you communicate.” He scratched his chin. “They also might be able to tell you the reason you’re here. Probably a long shot but worth a try.”

  “What kind of psychics are here?” I pictured the faux psychic I’d met at a carnival when I was a teenager. She’d told me I’d be in prison by the time I was forty. I was pretty sure it had been wishful thinking on her part because I’d accidentally knocked down her tent after tossing her crystal ball into the pole during a game of Truth or Dare with my friends. It wasn’t my finest hour.

  Cole rubbed his rugged jawline, thinking. “There are a few options.”

  “Maybe we should try a more competent witch,” I said. “Mitzi said there are other witches.” I snapped my fingers. “She mentioned Starla and Helen-Mary is supposed to be good too.”

  Cole studied me. “Are you pushing for a witch because you’re afraid to meet a psychic?”

  “Of course not. I’m not afraid of anyone,” I said. That much was true. I’d learned a long time ago not to be intimidated by others, that we all pooped as my grandfather liked to say. Far too often, according to the staff at the nursing home. Still, the lesson was a good one.

  “I didn’t think so,” Cole said. “Why don’t we start with Rosie though? She’s pretty docile and she has a good third eye. Her father’s Apollo.”

  “She’s a demigoddess?” I was beginning to feel like a convenience store coffee in the middle of Starbucks.

  “Apollo was the god of prophecy and her mother was a human with the Sight. She was bound to inherit prophetic abilities.”

  “Sounds promising.” I scooped Mischief off the counter. “Let’s go.”

  Cole watched me closely. “You’re going to carry her like that?”

  I cut a quick glance at the cat. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “You look like you’re carrying a radioactive bomb.”

  “She bites,” I said. “I have to be careful.”

  He frowned. “I thought you two adored each other. That she pulled off a Saving Private Ryan-style trek through enemy territory to find you.”

  “I was thinking more Princess Bride, but yes, I think she…” I halted. “How do you know Saving Private Ryan?”

  “I know a lot of excellent films,” he said. “Just because I didn’t live in your realm during the relevant timeframe doesn’t mean I don’t keep up.”

  “What else have you seen?” Now I was curious. “I bet you like action movies.” I groaned. “Please don’t say you like Michael Bay movies or we need to end our blossoming friendship right here and now.”

  He laughed. “Is that what this is? A blossoming friendship?”

  “Isn’t it?” Mischief squirmed in my arms, insisting on her release. I looked down at her. “I’m trying to help you. Resistance is futile.”

  “Your cart or mine?” Cole asked.

  “I’m not riding on a scooter with a cat in my arms. My balance isn’t good enough.” I knew it had everything to do with my weak core muscles, and that, if I’d been willing to develop said muscles, I’d have been able to surf and paddle board and do all the hip outdoor activities that required a celebrity body.

  “Then I guess we’ll take your cart.”

  I lifted the cat slightly. “Then you’ll have to hold Miss Fidgetbutt.”

  “No problem. Rosie’s in Zone 1 since she’s a demigoddess, so we don’t have to travel far.” Mischief didn’t object to the transfer. The cat probably sensed that Cole could smite her if she stepped a paw out of line. After all, she was a living creature in the land of the dead and forgotten.

  As Cole directed me to Rosie’s bungalow, I briefly wondered whether the psychic would be as attractive as her demigod counterpart. I assumed extreme beauty was part of the package. Maybe Cole and Rosie had even had a little affair during their time here. That was probably the reason he suggested her first. She’d broken his heart and now he had an excuse to see her. I shuffled my butt in the seat of the golf cart, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my appearance. There was nothing I could do. I’d spent a lifetime enjoying cheeseburgers and baked goods and this was the result.

  I pulled the golf cart in front of Rosie’s bungalow and parked. Cole looked at me askance with Mischief pressed against his chest. Was it possible to be jealous of a cat?

  “Why are you looking at me with that face?” I asked.

  “Because it’s the only face I have. I’m not Janus, you know.”

  “You look like you dropped half a tuna sandwich between the sofa cushions for a week and finally smelled it.”

  He squinted. “That’s very specific.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just imaginative.”

  Cole gestured to the golf cart. “You can’t park like this. You’re completely crooked.”

  I looked over my shoulder to see that the back end of the golf cart was partially in the road. “Does it matter? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

  “The worst that can happen is that someone can clip the end of your golf cart with theirs and do damage to both.”

  “Then they should watch where they’re going.” I climbed out of the cart and held my arms open for Mischief.

  Cole stroked the cat’s side. “I can carry her in.”

  Mischief seemed in no hurry to leave her comfortable spot curled up against a demigod, not that I blamed her. In fact, I was pretty sure those blue eyes were mocking me right now.

  We strode up the walkway to the front door. The bungalow was painted yellow with a brown wooden door and a charming front porch complete with a rocking chair and potted plants. Nothing about this house screamed demigoddess.

  I used the knocker and waited. “Do you think she’ll be expecting us?”

  Cole made a face. “Her powers don’t work like that.”

  I pointed to the spot above his ear where a tuft of hair had curled up. “Do you maybe want to fix that before she answers?”

  “Fix what?”

  “Your hair is unruly.”

  “It has waves. Sometimes waves are unruly.”

  “I know, but I figure if a guy can’t stand the way I park, then he might get bent out of shape about his unkempt hair too.”

  “It’s not unkempt,” he objected.

  The door clicked open and an elderly woman stood in the doorway. With her cropped white hair, round face, and wiry glasses, she could’ve passed for Mrs. Claus in my shopping mall at Christmastime.

  “We’re to see Rosie,” I said. “Is she available?” How did she manage to have a maid in such a small house? Maybe she only worked during the day.

  Cole cleared his throat. “Eloise, this is Rosie.”

  For once my startled expression was genuine instead of pretending to be surprised that I’d cut in front of someone in line at airport security or taken a parking spot that someone else had already been waiting for.

  “Hello Cole,” Rosie said with a pleasant smile. Maybe her mother had named her after those red cheeks.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t schedule an appointment,” Cole said. “Any chance you have time for a reading? Eloise is somewhat of a special case and I thought you might enjoy the challenge.”

  My body warmed all over. Cole had just described me as ‘special.’ Okay, maybe it would be better to have the word ‘lady’ after it rather than ‘case,’ but I’d take what I could get.

  “You’re the human,” Rosie said. “I heard about you at bingo night.” She gave me an appraising look. “Someone said you were young.”

  I straightened my shoulders. “I’m forty-seven.”

  “Hmm. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  I wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or a putdown. Given that I needed her help, I let the comment slide without a follow-up question.

  “And who’s this?” Rosie asked. She lowered her head to peer at Mischief. “A chocolate point Siamese?”

  “Yes. Her name is Mischief,” I said.

  Rosie was smart enough not to try to pet the cat. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “And she knows it,” I said.

  The demigoddess took a step back. “Please come in. Would anyone like tea or coffee?” She directed her attention to me. “Something stronger, perhaps? I heard you’re a fan of tequila.”

  I cringed. My antics at Bloodlust had already been a topic of discussion it seemed. Divine Place had more in common with Chipping Cheddar than I realized.

  “Water is fine with me,” I said.

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” Cole added.

  Rosie smiled at the cat. “And what about you? A nice saucer of milk as a treat?” The cat meowed and Rosie resumed an erect position. “I thought as much. Milk it is.”

  She turned and walked softly into the kitchen. I let Cole go first so that I could take a good look around Rosie’s house. I was nosy to a fault. It probably started when I was a kid and I knew something was going on with my parents, but they refused to talk about it. Initially I’d assumed it had something to do with me, so I’d started rummaging through their drawers and closets in an effort to uncover their secret. I’d run the gamut of ideas from ‘I was adopted’ to ‘my mother is actually my older sister.’ In the end, it had been the same event that half the kids in America lived through—a divorce. What a letdown.

  Rosie’s rooms were cluttered with furniture and knickknacks. It appeared that she’d lived here a long time, although clearly she’d lived to an advanced age before she died.

  “Stop gawking and get in here,” Rosie called.

  I hustled into the kitchen as Rosie set a saucer of milk on the floor for Mischief. The cat seemed to prefer everyone in Divine Place to me. Then I reminded myself that she followed me to the afterlife and that made me feel better.

  “You do readings in your house?” I asked, attempting to make small talk.