"You got a cell phone?" Nana asked, incredulous. "You?"

I held the buzzing thing out from me like it was a ticking bomb or a multilegged insect. "Um, no. I didn't."

"Then whose is it?"

"Well, it is mine, but—"

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

It stopped ringing. I set it on the table.

"Maybe they'll call back," Nana said, finally opening her cigarette case. "I thought you didn't want one of those?"

"I don't."

She cocked her head at me, eyes squinting at me as she held a cigarette to her lips. "Then why do you have one?" She flicked the lighter.

"It's not a phone. It's a protrepticus."

Nana was stunned silent for a long moment while smoke wafted toward the ceiling and her eyes darted back and forth annoyingly. "Xerxadrea was your Eldrenne. Damn." She breathed the last more than said it. "You said you weren't the high priestess."

"I'm not."

"Don't lie to me!" Nana shook her head. "When Xerxadrea is the overseeing Eldrenne, the high priestess always trots out of the competition with a protrepticus."

"Hunter and I both got them."

"Both?" Her features sharpened and she sat forward. "You mean the Eximium came down to a vote of the Elders?"

"Yes."

"Lord and Lady! What was the vote?"

"The Eldrenne's vote broke a tie between the two of us."

Nana pursed her lips, then loosed them to click her tongue.

"What?"

She took a long draw off the cigarette and rubbed at her knee. "She's always been partial to her sorcery, showing off, and doing her part to ensure the generations after her have had a taste of it. Those willing to accept the bargains get the rank. Of all witches, it had to be Xerxadrea on this Eximium." She shook her head. "I don't know if there's ever been a solitary to have a protrepticus."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Probably not. But they all knew you were a solitary going in. You wouldn't both have gotten to keep them if you were going back to be in a coven as an underling."

"You're saying that in the end she voted for Hunter to be high priestess so she didn't have to take away my protrepticus?"

Nana fixed me with a stern look. "I'm saying she gave the prize position to Hunter because that way she could keep the ties to you both intact." She sat back and took another drag off the cigarette. "Xerxadrea saw something in both of you, something she wanted to hold on to… and she let you both succeed in order to not have to choose between you."

"Is she corrupt or something?"

Nana shook her head. "I don't think so. Though I knew her when I was sixteen. That was a long time ago. She was the high priestess of your great-grandmother's coven. She irritated me with her elaborations on every detail. Her rituals took hours." She rolled her eyes and made a flippant gesture. "Many things could have happened since then. Did you get a sense that she was corrupt?"

"No."

"You, being you, probably would have if she was. Forget about it." She waved her hand as if dismissing the subject. She pointed at the phone. "You did it."

"Yeah," I said softly. "Here," I said and showed her the drawing for turning the dining room into her bedroom. "That's what I think we should do. See how the bathroom becomes a new space added on there? You'll have that window, but the other will turn into a door for the bathroom."

"A private bath?" She sounded tempted.

I grinned. "Just for you. Jacuzzi tub if you want it."

"Look at this drawing. Is there anything you can't do?" she asked proudly.

"Keep a boyfriend," I blurted, then instantly regretted it.

Nana's happiness faded in an instant. "I—"

The protrepticus rang again.

Since it had stopped her from starting something I didn't want to talk to her about, I was thankful for the interruption, until she shifted gears and said, "Well, go on. Answer it. Introduce yourself to the spirit you got."

Resignedly, I picked up the phone, flipped it open, and stuck it to my ear. "Hi. This is Persephone."

"Now, more than ever," the spirit said, "I think you're gonna rot in Hell, little girl."

My eyes widened as I recognized the voice. Jerking the phone away and staring at the little color screen, my eyes beheld a pixilated version of the Reverend Samson D. Kline in a pale blue polyester suit. He waved at me and laughed. "Didn't expect me, did ya?" It came out in a Southern drawl, "dih-juh."

"Oh, fuck." I shut the phone and pushed it away.

Nana squealed, "Language, Persephone Isis!"

Before I could utter a word in my defense, the phone rang again.

Nana reached for it, but I was faster. I didn't answer it, just frantically turned it over and pushed buttons hoping to make it stop. It rang on and on.

"What is wrong with you?" Nana asked loudly.

"No," I groaned. "Why him?"

"You know the spirit?"

"Unfortunately." The phone was still ringing. I shoved it under my legs to deaden the sound. "It's the spirit of the man who came to collect the stake from me after Menessos helped with Theo."

"That pompous-ass preacher whose head ended up in your fridge?"

"Yeah." There was a mental flashback I didn't need. "Shit!"

"Persephone!"

I whispered hotly, "I vowed to investigate this spirit's murder and avenge him!"

The phone stopped ringing. My shoulders relaxed some.

"That's the trade-off you bargained for?"

"That's what he asked for. I thought that with me being the Lustrata it would be… okay," I said dully.

"You thought it would be easy."

"No, I didn't. I thought it would fit right in with my other tasks."

"And be easy."

"I never thought that word!"

"Definition's the same."

"Nana."

"I forget, which one was actually to blame?" she asked pointedly. "Menessos for actually killing him or Johnny for the deception that brought it all about?"

"Nana." Did she have to rub it in?

She pointed a finger at me. "You should know better! Witchery is natural; it asks the universe to align things as you will. Slow and steady, in good time, laying groundwork for what is to come. But sorcery's immediacy alters what is. Its cost is equally immediate! After the protrepticus is sealed, it's too late to change the terms of what you agreed to do."

I sat there feeling grouchy, then, "And what if his own stupid, brainless actions—and attacking a master vampire qualifies—brought about his death? What if no one is to blame but himself?"

Nana just stubbed out her cigarette. I could tell she had more to say—

The phone rang.

This time it wasn't the twitter of bells. This time it was some rap song about booty.

I flipped the phone open and dropped it on the table, disgusted.

"Hey, now. Not so rough." Samson stumbled around inside the square display screen. "Holy Moses! You're sweet as pie at first, but soon as something's not going your way, pow, you go sour as a wet cat."

That probably was his true perspective, as far as my encounters with him went. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Sam," I replied. Assuming he could see me, I added my I'm-being-polite-but-I-hate-you smile. Rev. Kline had seen it before.

"Women." He rolled his eyes; but being a spirit, he could literally roll them all the way back so the irises and pupils came up from the bottom. It made my stomach churn a little.

"I suppose your attitude is well earned," I said, employing a little psychology, "because this is how women have treated you all your life?"

"Not at all." He smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "Some women in my life were downright nice to me."

"After you paid them, right?"

"It's always a trade-off of one kind or another. Everything and everyone has a price. One way or another, what you want always has a cost; what you're willing to pay for it defines you."

My fingertips galloped irritably on the tabletop.