Brittle Brush was a quiet place. Nestled in a forest, somewhat off the beaten path, the town felt like something out of a forgotten fairytale. Wood and brick buildings that leaned oddly with the pull of time, covered in ivy and cobwebs that were left simply to add character, lined the wonky pathways. Each home and business was uniquely crafted with a vaguely gothic style about their windows and doors. The streets were made of uneven cobblestones that struggled against the hilly landscape, and the street lamps were curled and made of wrought iron. Even during daylight hours, Brittle Brush felt dark due to the tall trees obscuring the sky, so the lamps burned with otherworldly flames to light the paths.

The small town was an oddity amongst the supernatural community. A haven that did not welcome visitors—both due to its placement and its strangeness—Brittle Brush’s small populace kept to itself. Newcomers rarely found themselves standing in front of the admittedly eerie town sign, and it was not a popular place to call home. It was isolated and hard to come by. Since it was the only supernatural city around for quite some time (an unusual thing given the fact that it was in such a magic-heavy part of the country), it was somewhat busy compared to other havens like Wylder Wood or New Eden. It was the only safe place for many to call home, and most residents kept to themselves. Which made it sooooo boring.

Carmen McIntyre was bored. Constantly. All day. It never ended. Nothing changed, ever, and she had long since given up on something exciting happening. Even with her recent career move to a new funeral parlor for part-time work—which resulted in a half hour commute each way that was already driving her insane—nothing interesting had happened. Her life was fairly mundane. She’d get up, get ready, spend too much time saying goodbye to her cat Poppy Pumpernickel McPeppermintPants, then head off to go work—if it could even be called work in her probationary period—until it was time to head home. Dinner, snuggles with Poppy, then reading whatever random new monster romance book caught her attention before heading to bed rounded out her day. Rinse and repeat. Over and over and over again. It was exhausting, and she wondered if she’d made a mistake somewhere along the line for the universe to curse her with such dullness.

Obviously she had done something to make some all powerful being mad. She was the weird one in not only her friend group but her family and never really fit in. What kind of grim reaper didn’t even have a scythe? It was no wonder she had to go off to a haven that already had two other reapers that regularly handled business, no one else would really take her. Boring, basic Brittle Brush would be the end of her, she swore it.

As she stood in front of her fridge in her fuzzy robe, slippers on her feet and a face mask on her, well, face, Carmen wondered what the point was. Her ringlet curls of black were lazily thrown up and held back by a cat headband, which couldn’t even do its one job and let a few strands get stuck to her face mask. Her silver eyes stared blankly at the contents of her fridge, the light cascaded over the wooden floor of her apartment’s kitchen. Every square inch of space around her was either packed with books, cheaply made goth decor from the arts and crafts store, and plants. Poppy sat on the floor beside her, also looking up into the fridge. He’d grown bored of smacking his bowl around trying to get her to feed him a second dinner, so he opted to just sit and wait.

The day had been long, boring, and went by so slowly. She was glad it was the weekend, she could sleep in and question her life choices in her pajamas in peace instead of in heels and a business suit.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I should have gotten ice cream.”

Poppy meowed in response.

Carmen looked down at him. “I don’t need your pity, small man.”

The oversized Russian Blue flicked his bushy tail and left the room.

“Bruh…”

As she went to grab a roll of cookie dough to eat raw, her phone started ringing. She blinked a few times and turned to the small table across the way. With another groan, she stomped over to it, leaving the fridge door open as she went. Just as she feared, it was her boss. The worst part was, Lionel Kingfisher was a saint. Genuinely nice, polite, caring, and patient, the sweet older man was the perfect employer. He’d also recently been injured and was somewhat needy, so he’d been calling on her for more and more tasks as of late and she couldn’t even say no because he was too damn sweet. A literal walking cinnamon roll.

So even though she knew he was going to ask her to come in on her day off, it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

“Yes, sir?” Carmen asked.

“I’m so sorry to ask this of you but would you be able to assist with a body? I need to do an autopsy,” Lionel said with his swoon-inducing Irish accent.

“N-now?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry. Genuinely, but it’s a wee bit of an emergency. I will pay you overtime and order a pizza. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Carmen looked at the coffin-shaped clock above her bed in the corner. It was nearing midnight. She expected to be called in but not this soon. She wondered what kind of situation required such a rushed autopsy.

As she went to inquire what the hurry was, her boss spoke again.

“The body belongs to someone fairly high profile in town, and the death looks… suspicious. I have two detectives, hell, the whole police department if I’m being honest, a grieving mother, a panicked agent, and tabloids blowing up my phone trying to figure out what happened. We have to get answers tonight… legally, and I’m still struggling with my injury. I could use a second right hand to make sure nothing is missed,” Lionel explained.

A real life murder mystery? Now that was exciting!

“Yes, of course. I’m literally in hermit mode right now so I’ll try to get ready and leave as soon as I can, I’ll be there within the hour if that works?” Carmen asked as she scrambled into the bathroom to wash the green tea mask off of her face.

“That would be excellent, plenty of time to get the pizzas delivered. Thank you, Carmen, sincerely. I’ll let you have Monday off for the troubles,” Lionel replied with an obvious sense of relief in his tone.

“No worries, this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all year!”

“Please don’t sound so excited about a possible homicide, people already think we’re weird for being in this line of work. We don’t need them to know we actually are.”

“Too late! But I will take you up on the extended weekend.”

Lionel laughed on the other end of the line. “Deal. Come along, Ms. McIntyre, we’ve got a mystery to solve and pizza to indulge in. I eagerly await your arrival.”