‘You’re joking.” Cole looked up in disbelief at the sign above the door that advertised the diverse and amazing powers of Miss Nefertiti.
“No, I’m not. If a ghost is chasing us, I want to know what to do about it. And John speaks highly of her.” Henry pushed the door open before he could reconsider the source of this recommendation and dragged Cole inside.
The interior was dim and smelled strongly of sandalwood and other incense. They looked around in stunned silence at the array of astrological symbols, arcane objects, and voodoo paraphernalia that cluttered the small space.
“Ah, my dahlings,” a thick Jamaican-accented voice called from the shadows. “Come to Miss Nefertiti and ask her anyt’ing. She knows da future, mon.” A large black woman in a muumuu emblazoned with African figures a
