“I assume so.”

“That’s nonsensical.” She leaned forward. “I mean, ghosts? Why would they have answers? Or for that matter, power? They aren’t even corporeal. Why would a ghost have any more knowledge than the human body had while alive? I mean, you die an idiot, you’re pretty much still an idiot. Am I right?”

“Are you saying all ghosts are idiots?”

“No, I’m saying I don’t think any of them would have the kind of knowledge the necromancer is looking for. I believe Ben has been using him to tap into stock market futures. How can anyone know that? Most especially a dead someone?”

“Move beyond your skepticism, Annja. We are all one. All part of the greater consciousness. When the body dies it is buried. But the soul—the mind and spirit—become part of the collective.”

“You just went New Agey on me, Roux.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He gave an unexpected shudder. “Must have been Roxanne. She read my cards last week. Told me I was going to have a long and prosperous life.” He chuckled. “Tell me something new?”

The old coot.

“This sounds too Nostradamus scam to me.”

“The man was a soothsayer, Annja. The true seers are in such a minority the majority will never believe them. Which is both good and bad. You cannot judge time from point A to point B,” he explained. “All time is happening at all times. That’s the only way you can ever conceive of a person’s or an entity’s ability to know the future.”

“Not going to touch that one. I buy the immortality bit,” Annja said. “I don’t have a choice. And I can even buy the monsters and supernatural voodoo, because I’ve seen it.”

“Show you the truth and you’re a believer.”

“Exactly.”

“I promise if you are on the receiving end of a necromancer’s voodoo, as you call it, you will believe.”

“I’m still not buying it. This skull…” She picked up the beheaded entity from the seat next to her thigh.

Setting it on her lap, she let the silk spill away, turning it so the eyes did not look directly at her. She remembered it had been so in the warehouse. As soon as Garin turned the eyes on to her and the thug, something freaky had happened. They hadn’t glowed. But she had felt its power.

“It is rather plain,” Roux commented. “I see some idiot decided to add gold. I thought it was originally silver or even a simple base metal.”

She held up the skull. “Why did you take this skull from the alchemist?”

Roux gripped the forehead and turned it so the eye sockets were facing down into her palm.

“I’m waiting.”

He sighed. “It was about two years before Joan’s death. It was one of the first items on my list.”

“Your list?”

“That’s none of your business. A man has a right to gather certain items that intrigue him, if he wishes. But I will tell you I witnessed its power. Garin and I were being attacked in an almond grove outside of Granada, and it set back the attackers. But it didn’t discern evil from good. Many were slaughtered later that day. Quite a few innocents.”

“Garin told me. You must have been awed.”

“Not really. More frightened.”

“Garin said he was the one to throw it in the well. You wanted to keep it?”

“Did he say that? Never. I was distraught, Annja. I had just been responsible for the destruction of innocents. I was not in my right mind. I’m grateful Garin was able to think straight and dispose of the thing. I was thankful to lose it. I’d thought Garin was, too. But obviously not.”

“So do you know about its origins?”

“The necrophilic liaison?” Roux chuckled.

“You don’t buy the Templars were involved?”

“Didn’t say that. I don’t need to buy anything, Annja. I just knowit works, no matter if it was birthed because of a macabre copulation, or if it came from aisle nine in Wal-Mart.”

“I’m going out on a limb to guess you’ve never graced the aisles of Wal-Mart.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No, just too rich to bother. So, anyway, the legend is supposed to be the origin of the skull and crossbones.”

“Pirates were not the first to use the symbol, nor, I suspect, were the Templars. It’s a bit before my time, you’ll recall. But does it matter?”

“It does to place it on a time line, and verify it is actually this skull we all believe it to be.”

“Annja, you tire me with your skepticism. You’ve seen it work.”

“Yes.” She sat back again. “Sorry, I can be a little stubborn on the uptake sometimes. Where are we headed?”

“To my hotel. Are you all right with that?”

“I could use a nap.”

“I’ve got a suite, and I promise to be quiet.”

“Then let’s go!”

THE GUEST BEDROOM was standard luxury hotel fare. King-size bed, 900-thread-count sheets and rich jewel colors. Nabbing the mints placed on a silver tray on the pillow, Annja quickly downed all three.

She set the skull on the bed between her feet. Eye sockets facing away from her, she leaned forward, tapping the skull gently.

“You’ve been handled rather poorly in the past few days,” she said to the ancient artifact. “Sorry about that. I intend to get you on your way home.”

Leaning to the side, she turned to her laptop and brought up her e-mail program. Maxfield Wisdom had replied to her request for his phone number. She grabbed her phone and dialed.

As it was ringing, she calculated what time it must be in Venice. It was early evening in New York. That would make it around midnight there.

A groggy male voice answered. Annja winced. “Sorry, Mr. Wisdom?”

“Yes. Is this Miss Creed?”

“Yes, I just got your phone number. I apologize for waking you.”

“S’all right. Needed to answer the phone.”

At least he could find the joke in it, she thought. Then it occurred to her, if Ben Ravenscroft knew she had communicated with Wisdom, could he have seen this same e-mail?

“First let me ask, has Benjamin Ravenscroft been in touch with you?”

“No. What would be the reason?”

“The skull. He’s hot on the trail for it.”

“I suspected he was more interested in it than should be.”

“Don’t worry,” Annja rushed to say when his tone wavered through the phone line. “I’ve got the skull.”

“Excellent. I could catch a flight in the morning and be there before nightfall tomorrow.”

“That would be great. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind if I take lots of pictures and document the skull as completely as I can?”

“Be my guest.”

“I’d like to have it properly dated, but haven’t been able to find a contact who can do it.”

“It’s still in one piece, I hope?”

“Yes. Been joggled a bit, but it’s a survivor.”

“Much like you, I wager. I did some online research on you, Annja, after you contacted me. You’ve got quite the impressive résumé.”

“I travel a lot for the TV show.” Fingers crossed he hadn’t stumbled across the nudie pic.

“I like a woman who’s comfortable anywhere in the world, with the dirt as her bed and the sky her ceiling.”

Did he now? Annja hadn’t done the same research on Wisdom, but had assumed he was an old coot after reading his claim to have held the skull for generations. But she realized that didn’t necessarily make him old. His voice did sound young.

“Perhaps we can spend an evening discussing the skull when you get here? I know a great restaurant in Manhattan I’ve been eager to try.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had in months,” Wisdom said. “I’d be delighted.”

“I’ll make sure a car is waiting for you at the airport when you arrive,” she said. She could finagle something with Doug if she made him believe this was research for a show on…Venetian…mermaids. Yeah, that would work. “E-mail me with your flight information when you have it.”

“I will. I look forward to tomorrow night.”

Now all she had to do was make sure no necromancer or business mogul got to Wisdom before she did.