“Did you finish all of your work for today?” I ask. No matter how old Raziel gets a part of me will always see him as the child he was when I first met and I can’t help but take responsibility for him.

He waves me off, “I finished enough of it.” I have a strong urge to berate him for being lazy, but I hold my tongue. As if sensing my unspoken thoughts he smiles, “I thought you said we had a client?”

I’m still not used to it. Raziel treats me like an equal to himself. Tristan had treated me like a slave, always carrying my death totem around to always remind me that he was the one in charge. Now, though, I can feel my coin tucked away safely in the lab out of sight from prying eyes and Raziel waits on me patiently.

“Yes, there was a visitor in the shop last night.”

Raziel frowns, “Strange. What type of visitor?”

“The spectral kind. In the form of a young girl.” I try my best to describe to him what had happened without giving in to too much excitement. The memory of her death still races through my thoughts like a shot of adrenaline. I do wonder what would happen if I were to touch her again. Would I experience her pain again or could we feel other sensations?

After I’ve finished Raziel sits thoughtfully at his desk, “Well there’s not much we can do for her. We don’t even know her name.”

“You could put a couple sigils up to make the place more stable for her when she visits.” I snap in annoyance.

Raziel leans back with a smirk and I can feel my form flicker in embarrassment. I hadn’t meant to sound like that.

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“Did you finish all of your work for today?” I ask. No matter how old Raziel gets a part of me will always see him as the child he was when I first met and I can’t help but take responsibility for him.

He waves me off, “I finished enough of it.” I have a strong urge to berate him for being lazy, but I hold my tongue. As if sensing my unspoken thoughts he smiles, “I thought you said we had a client?”

I’m still not used to it. Raziel treats me like an equal to himself. Tristan had treated me like a slave, always carrying my death totem around to always remind me that he was the one in charge. Now, though, I can feel my coin tucked away safely in the lab out of sight from prying eyes and Raziel waits on me patiently.

“Yes, there was a visitor in the shop last night.”

Raziel frowns, “Strange. What type of visitor?”

“The spectral kind. In the form of a young girl.” I try my best to describe to him what had happened without giving in to too much excitement. The memory of her death still races through my thoughts like a shot of adrenaline. I do wonder what would happen if I were to touch her again. Would I experience her pain again or could we feel other sensations?

After I’ve finished Raziel sits thoughtfully at his desk, “Well there’s not much we can do for her. We don’t even know her name.”

“You could put a couple sigils up to make the place more stable for her when she visits.” I snap in annoyance.

Raziel leans back with a smirk and I can feel my form flicker in embarrassment. I hadn’t meant to sound like that.

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Raziel takes his cue and makes his way to the lab to find the blue moon water. I stare down at the sigil. Even without being activated I can still sense its power and the calming effect it has on me. It would be easier if Raziel could just use magic. Such a ridiculous thing: a wizard not using magic. Instead Raziel has to rely on potions and artifacts to aid him in his work. It would be better if Raziel could just summon the ghost instead we have to wait and just hope that she tries to return.

“It’s different now…” A soft, ethereal voice floats through the air. I turn from my window watching to see the girl staring at me with wide, blue eyes.

Gazing into them I can suddenly understand why someone would like to dress her up like a doll, ‘Because she looks like one.’ The memory of Raziel’s smirk floats through my mind and I quickly clear my thoughts.

“Yes, we do try to accommodate to our clients.” I answer in a business-like fashion. “Even the dead ones.”

Even with the sigil though I can see parts of her fade and she looks behind her in a distracted way. Whatever is keeping her wants her back.

“So you really are wizards? Does that mean you can help?” She looks hopeful, but then I see her quickly withdraw the sentiment and put herself on guard.

‘Perhaps too jaded by death to trust anyone.’ I think, out loud though, “We can try. Why don’t you start with your name…”