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preferred - Taylor's of Harrowgate was good enough for anyone - and in a minute and a half, it was done.

By the time she turned around, the Living Goddess had conjured a bowl of sugared dates, either from her bag or thin air. Ellen didn't much care which. She set the mug in front of Isis, considering, then sat down opposite. "So," Ellen said, "what did your, uh, brother, tell you?"

"That only Nepthys, of all gods, can raise the dead. We were bewailing the loss of our beloved Aliyah and . . ." Isis raised her mug, inhaling the steam like an oracle with her bowl, then put it plainly: "Can you help us?"

It had been a long while since Ellen had sat with a client. "Perhaps, but I have to tell you that it's going to be less than what you want. I have to be up-front about that. The last time . . ." How was she supposed to put it? "My last client was expecting the Second Coming and just got a Broadway Revival. I'm a psychometric trance channeler. Most objects" - she hefted her mug as demonstration - "I can feel the psychic impressions on, like smudged fingerprints or whispers on the other side of a wall . . . but if an object is very important to someone, I can tell that, and if that person has died . . ."

Isis finished her thought: "You can channel the soul of the departed?"

Ellen took a sip of tea, letting it linger on her tongue as she thought of the best way to phrase it. "I think they're souls, but the dead . . . well, when I call them back from the darkness, they don't recall an afterlife. They only remember up to the last point they touched an object."

Isis's dark eyes were limned with kohl. "My daughter left the world as she came into it, naked and screaming. But at least . . ." Her voice caught. ". . . at least, your gift is kind." She reached into her bag. "You will spare my darling Aliyah the torment of her end."

Ellen moved the mugs and the untouched dates aside, making room for Isis to unroll a tightly furled bundle of denim. It was like unwinding a burial shroud, revealing at last a pair of low-rise jeans and a black baby-doll T-shirt with the American Hero logo, the legend EVERYONE WANTS TO BELONG TO THE CLUBS!, and the image of a pretty brown-haired girl wearing nothing more than a whirlwind of glitter, the name SIMOON stenciled below. Isis then added a pair of earrings, small bits of silver and Swarovski crystal in the shape of the Egyptian Eye of Horus, the same as you could get in any Cambridge or Greenwich Village Goth shop. "My daughter wore these her last day on American Hero."

Ellen blinked. "Your daughter was an ace?"

"We called her Simoon, the child of the whirlwind. Though the name on her birth certificate is 'Aliyah Malik,' 'Malik' for 'daughter of the King.' "

"Oh . . ." What Ellen did not usually tell her clients was that when the person she channeled was an ace, she channeled their power as well. The contestants from American Hero included some pretty potent aces. If occasionally wonky ones. Ellen pursed her lips. "Before we go any further, there's one other thing we do have to discuss: payment."

"I am not rich," Isis said, "but you will have the eternal gratitude of the Living Gods, this I promise you. And you may join us at any of our temples as our Nepthys."

"No offense, but I've got Catholic nutjobs after me. Rather not have Muslim ones, too."

"Osiris foresaw this. As payment, he offers prophecy. The night hawk has killed the red bird, he told me. Does this omen bring ease to the heart of Nepthys?"

Ellen sat back. A red bird? A cardinal? Contarini was dead? That would be welcome news - mostly - but she'd like better assurances than a vision from a Las Vegas lounge act. She made a counteroffer: "Just let me keep your daughter's things."

"They are mere mementos. If you can make my Aliyah live again . . ."

Ellen composed herself, picking up the jeans. They were . . . unimportant. "You can keep these." She touched the T-shirt, feeling a touch of excitement, a thrill of passion, and a great deal of disappointment, quickening as she touched one, then the other of the earrings.

"Aliyah very much