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a narrow alley； and Ghost thought they'd gotten lost。 Instead they suddenly found themselves in the cacophony of Jackson Square； with the silvery spires of St。 Louis Cathedral looming up behind them and a panorama of portrait painters and street musicians spread before。 In the middle of it all Andrew Jackson reared up on his horse； sour…faced and pigeon…spotted； challenging the giant magnolias that surrounded the square。
Ghost couldn't recall ever seeing a map of New Orleans； but he knew the Mississippi River curved around the city in a giant crescent shape； like a cradling hand。 He could smell the water and feel its throbbing current in his nerves。 But he knew about the miasma that could sometimes hang over such a powerful body of water； especially in such lush； humid weather。 It was as if the water vapor created a palpable feeling of despair。 His grandmother had told him of a man she'd known who stood on a spot in England by the sea and heard a voice urging him to jump to his death on the rocks a hundred feet below。 Later the man found out that several suicides had occurred from that spot。 Considering the state he and Steve were in after driving all night； if they saw a large expanse of water； they might be tempted to take a swim。
They crossed the square and were soon deep in the Quarter again。 The side street they were on did not look as well travelled as some of the others。 The long shutters on either side of the doorway stoops hung crooked； their bright paint fading； and some of the cobblestones in the sidewalk were smashed to pieces。 Steve's pace slowed as they passed a dark little bar； and he stared in longingly at the rows of bottles reflected in the mirror。 〃So what do we do now？〃 he asked Ghost。 〃You think they're here yet？〃
Ghost closed his eyes and tried to send his mind out； tried to find something familiar； something young and lonely； something green…eyed and frightening。 At last he opened his eyes and shook his head。 〃I can't tell。 There's too much magic here。 This place is too haunted。 I can't separate it all。〃
Steve clawed at his hair。 〃Well fuck it； then！ Let's just go back to that bar！ Jesus； I thought you'd know what to do once we got here。〃
〃Calm down；〃 said Ghost。 〃I'm working on it。 First we need a place to stay； I guess。〃 Steve shrugged。 Okay； thought Ghost； if that's how it is； then that's how it is。 Steve's tired and disgusted； I don't blame him。 And maybe when we find Ann； she'll tell us to fuck off。 But I'm not giving up yet。 〃e on；〃 he said。 〃We'll ask around for a cheap place。 Then maybe we can get a drink and decide what we're gonna do next。〃
They asked at several hotels and guest houses； starting with the modest ones and progressing to the seedy…looking dumps。 There was nothing under fifty dollars a night； which would take just about all the cash they had。 〃Let's just stay up all night drinking；〃 Steve suggested。 Ghost was almost ready to agree with him when he saw a small wooden sign at the mouth of an alley： MAGICK SHOPPE。 Below that； in smaller letters： Arkady Raventon； Proprietor。
Had he found his way here on purpose？ Were such places like a magnet to that part of his mind？ Ghost was too tired to care much； at any rate he would inquire here。 He felt fortable among practitioners of the occult； he had grown up around them。 Maybe Arkady Raventon； Proprietor； would know of a cheap place to stay。
The shop was far back at the end of an alley； its door hidden behind shadows and garbage cans。 〃Creepy place；〃 said Steve。
〃You never know；〃 Ghost told him。 〃There might be somebody here who can help us。 You got a better idea？〃
The alley was dim； and the inside of the shop seemed fully black。 Steve and Ghost stood just inside the door for a moment； waiting for their eyes to adjust to the sudden absence of light。 Slowly； pinpoints of fire began to appear in the darkness。 They were candles； Ghost realized； scented votive candles； the only source of light in the shop。 He smelled cinnamon； orange blossoms； nutmeg。 And under the perfume of the candles； a smell like the back room of Miz Catlin's store。 Spices and ancient dust； herbs and medicines； rust and wood and bone。 He breathed in deep。 His nose prickled。 He sneezed once； twice； three times。
〃Bless you；〃 said a voice from within the darkness。 〃If your spirit has escaped your body； I promise not to capture it。〃
Only now did the darkness in the shop begin to soften。 Ghost made out a figure standing behind a long glass counter； a small emaciated figure draped in white。 The proprietor。 Ghost saw sharp jutting cheekbones and hollow eyes； thin dark hair； spidery hands resting flat on the glass； bony fingers splayed。
〃We just got into town；〃 said Ghost。 〃We're looking for a place to stay a few days。〃 He stepped forward。 His feet felt too big； his arms long and awkward。 The shop seemed too full of stuff； the walls leaning in toward the center of the room。 There were shelves crammed with tiny bottles and boxes。 There were books…at a glance he saw the I Ching； titles by Aleister Crowley and Robert Anton Wilson； crudely printed booklets promising charms for love and luck and revenge。 He saw a rack of bejewelled metal daggers； jars full of herbs； candies； sticks of incense。 At the back of the shop hung a curtain of colored plastic beads； and beyond that； more blackness。
〃I am Arkady Raventon；〃 said the proprietor。 Ghost could see his face more clearly now； but could discern no hint of age。 The skin was smooth； the eyes depthless dark pools。 He took the hand Arkady offered； a hand whose bones would surely crumble if Ghost squeezed too hard； a hand with bones like the bones of lizards。 The hand was dry； cool； the grip surprisingly strong。 Ghost opened his mouth to introduce himself and Steve； who was lounging near the door looking skeptical。
But before he could speak； Arkady Raventon said； 〃You must be Miz Deliverance's son。 Or is it grandson？ Yes； grandson surely。 Miz Deliverance's grandson。〃
Ghost heard Steve's sharp intake of breath。 He met Arkady's limpid dark gaze。 〃How did you know？〃
Arkady smiled。 Was that a youthful smile； open and easy？ Or was it the wise； humorless grin of an old； old man？ 〃Everyone knows of Miz Deliverance；〃 he said。 〃Everyone who has dealings with magick。〃 Ghost could hear the k。 〃You may be too young to know it； child； but your grandmother is a legend from here to the mountains of West Virginia。〃
〃I knew it；〃 said Steve。 〃She was a witch。〃
〃A white witch；〃 Arkady told him。 〃A benign conjurer。 And a fabled beauty too； in her youth。 My own mother told me tales of her hair like yellow spun glass； her lips bowed like the lips of the infant Christ； her clear unlying blue eyes。 I saw a silvery old photograph of Miz Deliverance once； taken when she was about your age。 Yes； she was a fabled beauty。 And you are her image； Ghost。 Her very image。〃
〃I didn't tell you my name；〃 said Ghost。
Arkady smiled again。 〃Poor child！ Did your grandmother let you think you were the only sensitive in the world？ I have been to the other side； Ghost。 I know things too。 I know you。
Steve came forward and stood next to Ghost； positioning himself so that he s