Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

“I saw Gigi first,” Roberto said, as he sat on one of the vanity tables in the large common dressing area. Behind him, bulbs lined a mirror, and Dawn could see hair plugs dotting the back of the emcee’s scalp. “Gigi was on those steps leading to the stage, just as bold as life.”

He pointed at the stairs to their right, and everyone looked, as if expecting to find her there.

Much to Dawn’s gratitude, they didn’t.

Kiko asked, “How do you know it was her?”

“No mistaking Gigi Calhoun,” Roberto said. “I’m her numero uno fan.”

The magician’s assistant, Naomi, cleared her throat, and Roberto chuckled.

“Okay. Maybe I share that honor.”

Naomi smiled at him and picked up a brunette wig behind her, starting to comb it out. In spite of her attempt at humor, frown lines decorated her forehead.

Kiko asked, “Could you see Gigi’s face? Tigerman said she appears with her hair half-hiding her features. Her dress and gloves cover the rest of her.”

Roberto had that dreamy fan expression — he was in Gigi-land, and Dawn wondered if his love for the star had been strong enough to conjure up a ghost.

“I’ve been a fan since I was old enough to watch old movies on TV,” he said. “I know my Gigi.”

Dawn asked, “How long did she stay?”

“Not long. She walked to the top of the stairs, then turned right once she got to the stage. It was during a show, and I was—”

The magician broke in “—flirting with the showgirls while you waited for your next cue?”

Everyone else but Naomi laughed, and Trevor slid her a grin, as if he liked teasing her about Roberto having a wandering eye. She didn’t seem as amused, and Dawn guessed that there was probably something hearts-and-flowery between the numero uno fans.

“As I was saying,” Roberto said, “I was able to run up those stairs pretty fast, but Gigi was gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

“I saw her in the back of the showroom about a month ago,” Naomi said, “while Travis and I were rehearsing a new trick on stage. When I said something, Travis thought he saw her, too.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” The magician settled back in his chair, all fading boyish good looks. “The lights were in my eyes. You should ask Victor about it, though.” He nodded to the usher. “He’s seen Gigi more than anyone.”

In response, Victor just shrugged. Dawn narrowed her eyes at him.

“How many times?” she asked.

“Three.” He had a voice as dry as a half-drunk martini. “She comes and goes.”

So nonchalant. “You see a lot of ghosts?”

Victor’s attention seemed focused on the pseudo-tattoos that Dawn’s makeup barely covered. She didn’t flinch. Let him stare.

“If Gigi has decided to hang out with us,” the usher said, “I say let her be.”

“I agree,” Trevor the magician said. “I was even hoping to put her in my act.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Classy.”

Travis grinned at the rest of them. “Gigi was never shy about publicity, from what I hear. She’d be a boost for all of us. A draw. God knows we need the PR.”

Ah, the sweet stench of show biz, Dawn thought. She’d grown up in Hollywood, so she knew it well. It smelled just like piles of bloodstained money.

As Kiko went on to question them about details — how solid did Gigi’s form seem? What were the exact times and dates? —Dawn realized that there wasn’t much of a pattern to her appearances.

When showgirls and other staff began to arrive, Dawn and Kiko’s time was up. Tigerman had invited them to watch the rehearsal — a few tweaks to a rain forest number featuring the statuesque young ladies in towering diamond-shower headdresses, and not much else. Dawn and Kiko had asked to watch from backstage, since Gigi had been seen here the most.

They stood out of the way while the topless showgirls quickly moved past them on their way to the stage. Since Dawn wasn’t much for boobs, she lost interest early, wandering down to the common dressing room and finding a quiet corner in front of a darkened dressing station. She should call Costin and update him, but she was dreading it. He’d hoped to live the rest of his life with her in peace, not picking up the pieces from former Undergrounds.

She looked up, into the mirror. Her eyes, which had gained clarity during this past year of rehab, were shaded again. It was almost like she could see straight to her dormant soul stain.

Just as she was about to look away, she caught a flutter of movement in back of her—

Red.

A dress?

She whipped around, her pulse pounding and, at first, her mind refused to believe what it was registering.

A person … a … thing. One eye barely visible under a curtain of red hair. Shoulders hunched, gloved arms curved by its sides.

All of Dawn’s hunting instincts came screaming back, and she flipped open her jacket, going for the silver-bullet loaded revolver she’d strapped on, just for this case.

No time to get Kiko, so she grabbed a tube of lipstick from a nearby table and scribbled on the mirror: Gigi!