Life could be very hard for those unfortunate enough to find themselves utterly alone. For the past year life had been especially harsh for Alice. It was bad enough to be stranded in the world without any family connections. To be alone and on the run from the wrath of a powerful woman like Ethel Whitcomb would have been a thousand times worse. A lot of people, male or female, would have been crushed by the experience.

He opened the door. The deep, throbbing rumble of a heavy rez-rock tune playing on a cheap sound system spilled out into the otherwise silent street. Houdini chortled, clearly excited.

“He’s a fan of rez-rock,” Alice said. “He also loves the bar snacks and pizza here.”

Drake heightened his senses a little as Alice slipped past him into the shadowy tavern. She was so close that she brushed against him. She seemed unaware of the brief physical contact but he got a hot, heady thrill that left him on edge.

He told himself that he was still gathering information about Alice, still analyzing the situation and evaluating possible strategies. Maybe, on some level, that was even true. But he knew that in reality he’d been fascinated from the moment he had seen her illuminated in a thousand shades of paranormal light, hauling a suitcase through an alley while she out-maneuvered two knife-wielding assailants.

In that moment he’d seen everything he needed to know about her—she was the kind of woman who would never give up, regardless of the obstacles. No matter what life threw at her, she would just keep going.

That inner fire marked her in subtle ways. There was a fierce, vibrant energy about her that called to his senses. She was striking rather than beautiful; intriguing rather than glamorous; strong-willed rather than flirtatious. She radiated an interesting mix of innocence, irrepressible optimism, and savvy, street-smart intelligence. Her dark brown hair was caught in a ponytail. Dressed in a sleek, long-sleeved black turtleneck, black jeans, and black sneakers, she looked like a cat burglar heading out for an evening’s work.

He followed her into the moderately crowded tavern. The khaki-and-leather gear worn by several of the men occupying barstools identified them as members of the local Ghost Hunters Guild. They were drinking beer and Green Ruin whiskey. A man and a woman sat in a nearby booth. The man looked as if he was trying to convince the blonde to go home with him. The blonde looked bored.

Another booth was filled with a gaggle of young women dressed in flirty little dresses—expensive flirty little dresses—and stilettos. Definitely not from around this neighborhood, Drake thought. The women were drinking colorful drinks and trying to look as if they weren’t aware of the ghost hunters at the bar who were eyeing them in turn. It was a familiar ritual in the Old Quarters. Taverns like the Green Gate were popular destinations for bachelorette parties, coeds out for a little fun, and ladies from the more affluent suburbs who wanted to party.

The large, middle-aged woman working behind the bar was busy filling a beer glass. She looked up when Alice walked in.

“Hey there, Alice, you’re early tonight,” the bartender called in a hearty voice. “What happened?”

“The act closed, Maud.” Alice plunked her tote down on a seat in an empty booth and slid in beside it. “The owner of the theater cancelled me. Houdini and I are now unemployed. Again.”

There was a low chorus of commiserating responses from the crowd at the bar.

“Ah, now that’s just too damn bad,” one of the hunters said.

“Real sorry to hear that,” another added. “You gonna be okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Alice said. “This is the way it goes in show business.”

“Maybe you could get a job at that new magic show that opened up a few blocks from here,” someone offered. “Catacombs of Mystery.”

“Maybe,” Alice said. She did not sound optimistic.

Houdini was the only one who appeared unconcerned by the sudden reversal of fortune. He chortled and bounced down to the floor. He scampered across the room, bounded up onto an empty stool, and from there hopped onto the bar. Several of the hunters greeted him.

“Lookin’ good, Houdini,” one said. “Nice tie.”

A hunter pushed a bowl of bar snacks toward Houdini, who made happy sounds. He surveyed the offering, made a careful selection, and munched with enthusiasm.

Maud set the glass of beer in front of one of the patrons and wiped her hands on a towel. She looked at Alice with concern. “The usual for you and Houdini?”

“Yes, please,” Alice said. “I’m really hungry tonight. And Houdini is always hungry.”

Maud turned toward the open door at the far end of the bar and raised her voice to call to someone in the small kitchen. “Alice’s usual.”

A man garbed in a dingy apron and a yellowed cook’s hat peered back through the opening.

“Coming right up,” he promised.

Maud scrutinized Drake with a vaguely suspicious air. “Who’s your friend, Alice?”

“He’s not exactly a friend,” Alice said. “More like a new acquaintance. We met outside the stage door a few minutes ago.”

Maud raised her brows.

“The name is Drake Sebastian,” Drake said.

“You’re not from ’round here, are you?” Maud said.

“No. Just visiting.”

“They wear sunglasses after dark where you come from?” Maud asked.

“I do.”

“Huh.” Maud did not look impressed. “What can I get you?”

Drake sat down across from Alice. “I’ll have a beer.”

Maud looked at Alice, awaiting direction. The ghost hunters followed suit. A distinct hush fell over the small crowd. Everyone was suddenly watching the booth where Drake and Alice were seated. There was a little hum of energy in the atmosphere. Drake wondered if he was going to find himself in the middle of a barroom brawl. He, too, looked at Alice, politely waiting for her to decide if there would be a fight.

“He’s okay,” Alice said. She wrinkled her nose. “At least for now. He helped me deal with a couple of lowlifes who were waiting for me in the alley behind the theater tonight.”

“Damn,” Maud said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Alice assured her. “But we left a couple of unconscious thugs back there, thanks to my new friend.”

There were murmurs of approval from the hunters.

“Huh.” Maud looked satisfied. She turned back to Drake. “What kind of beer?”

“Whatever you have on draft is fine,” he said.

Maud selected a glass. The ghost hunters at the bar went back to leering at the giggling young women. The energy level in the room went down.

Drake looked at Alice. “Thanks for the character reference.”

“You’ve got five minutes to convince me you are not going to be a problem for me,” she said.

“The thing is, I probably am going to be a problem. But on the positive side, I may be able to help you with your current unemployment situation.”

She sat back and watched him warily. “You need a box-jumper?”

He thought about it and then smiled. “That’s as good a description as any. A couple of very important items have disappeared. We need to find them, and fast.”

“We?”

“Let’s start at the beginning.”

“Where is that, exactly?”

“The last time you were on Rainshadow Island.”

Alice went very still. She got a little blurry around the edges. It was suddenly hard to focus on her. Drake was pretty sure it was not deliberate. Her instinct to disappear when she felt threatened was a natural aspect of her talent. He jacked up his senses a bit so that he could see her clearly once more and waited.

She took a sharp breath and snapped back into focus. Her expression gave nothing away, but it didn’t take any psychic talent to know that her anxiety level had spiked.

“What does this have to do with Rainshadow?” she asked, her voice unnaturally even.

Before he could answer, Maud bustled around the end of the bar with two glasses in her hands. She set the beer in front of Drake and the white wine in front of Alice.