Carmen frantically waved with a panicked expression. Finally realizing he wasn’t alone, the ghost of the writer turned to look at her. Like all previously human spirits, he was a greyish hue and looked as he had in life. The only difference was that he no longer had facial features, so his nervous nail-biting wasn’t actually happening, and where his eyes had once been now stood two black discs that looked like a mix between a stretched out button and an alien eyeball. They did blink—sort of—and it was obvious he was caught off guard by the new presence in the room.

The frantic young mortician pointed to the spot beside her.

Lincoln tilted his head.

She pointed at him then back to the floor.

He pointed at himself.

“Yes!” she whisper-yelled.

“O-oh!” he mumbled as he nervously scampered over to where she stood.

She closed the door and crossed her arms with a huff, trying to keep her boss from waking from the noise since he looked like he needed the sleep. Then she waited. And waited. When he didn’t show up, she popped the door open again and looked at the ghost. He looked so sad.

“What?” she asked.

“You shut the door in my face,” he whined.

“You… oh… oh, no.”

He didn’t know he was dead yet.

She gestured for him to step out, he did and nervously set his hands together, looking at her with as much emotion as someone without facial features could. She then closed the door and looked up at him. His hair was perfectly parted down the center, that luxurious wolf cut with Kpop Idol bangs that, on his incorporeal body, gave him the appearance of an unfinished webtoon sketch. Voluminous and cascading around his featureless face. He stood with one shoulder raised a tad higher than the other from an injury in high school that Lionel had mentioned when they were doing paperwork so she wouldn’t forget to notate it, and his pointer fingers were nervously pressed together.

“I’m confused,” he admitted. “Do we know each other?”

“H-hi, and no, but you know my boss—”

“Oh, you must be Carmen. Lionel talked about you a lot. I’m Link.”

“I-I know. Um… so, sad news, bud… you’re dead.”

Link titled his head and blinked slowly again. He lifted his hands up and studied them for a moment in the gentle light of the lamp on the nearby table. He shifted his gaze to the mirror that hung up outside of Lionel’s office, as if he’d suddenly remembered it was there, and it must have dawned on him that he couldn’t see his reflection since he fully turned to face it with a motion that radiated shock.

Carmen shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry to break the news to you.”

“Are you sure?” Link asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure? That doesn’t sound all that sure.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure. Your body is in the other room in a really expensive coffin.”

“I… this is a disappointment, I don’t want to be dead. How did this happen?”

“You don’t know?”

Link shook his head. He set his ghostly hand against his chin as if trying to recall. Carmen tried not to look too disappointed, but she also knew that ghosts who had just woken up often had trouble recalling recent events leading up to their death. It would take some time and, judging by the fact that she didn’t feel the need to reap him, he wouldn’t be moving on all that easily. True, she may be a bad reaper who never got gifted a scythe by Death, but she still knew when a spirit needed reaping, and he didn’t. Lincoln Crane would not be leaving Aspen Harbor anytime soon.

They may still have a chance at getting to the bottom of this.

“I can’t remember much, if I’m being honest,” he admitted.

“That’s not uncommon, it may take some time. You didn’t feel off or anything on Friday, did you?” Carmen asked. She turned her eyes to the office and gently shooed him along, trying to ensure she didn’t disturb Lionel. She also didn’t feel like having him open the door only to find her talking to thin air, so she figured it was best to move them both along to continue the conversation. Link followed her down the hall.

“Did I die on Friday? Wait, did I miss my event? Lucy is going to be a wreck,” Link ambled.

“She is, she also got a really bad haircut so she’s not okay,” Carmen mused.

“Oh, no, she went with that bob, didn’t she? I told her it wouldn’t be flattering.”

“It’s… it’s bad. She looks like a LEGO figure.”

Link chuckled. He walked instead of floated, moved out of the way of the furniture, and it was apparent he hadn’t quite gotten his mind wrapped around the fact that he was nothing but energy. He followed Carmen into the break room so she could try to make a coffee or something to get some energy back into her system.

“Do we know what happened? Any leads?” Link asked once he’d breached the entryway.

“No, the only thing we were able to find was a piece of folded paper shoved in your mouth with a symbol on it,” Carmen replied.

“That’s quite distressing. I feel bad that I’m inconveniencing everyone but I’d really like to know what happened.”

Carmen turned to look at him. Her raven-hued curls fell over her face. He, also, looked immensely sad. His spirit was turning a dark hue. Normally, reapers wouldn’t get involved. Normally, reapers would simply hear them out and send them on their way. Normally, reapers wouldn’t mess with the affairs of the deceased.

It was a good thing Carmen wasn’t a normal reaper.

“So,” Carmen said with pursed lips. “Maybe we could… figure it out?”

Lincoln turned to look at her. His spirit immediately lightened. “We… we could, I suppose.”

“Right… like a cozy small town mystery.”

“I… died, that’s not really cozy, but I like the enthusiasm. I appreciate the enthusiasm, and the help. I don’t know if it would ease anyone else’s mind but it would mine. I was kind of a hermit.”

“I think it would help a lot of people, honestly. Your loved ones are pretty upset, and even though your mother kept the service small it was well-attended. The Quirky Quill…” she stopped, trying to figure out a way to not make it sound like the shop was taking advantage of the hype, “Had a whole memorial up. Lucy’s a mess and Lionel is… heartbroken. He’s really not okay, and the book world is mourning heavily. Your mom did give Lucy the okay to let your publisher release the last book, I thought you might want to know.”

“Aw, I won’t be able to do edits or pick the cover, that’s such a bummer. I hadn’t updated my will this month after finishing up that manuscript, either.”

His spirit turned dark again.

“Hey, we’ll get this figured out. Maybe once you get a hold of your spiritual powers some you can write a little note that we can just happen to find with instructions. I… wait, this month? Do you update your will monthly?” Carmen inquired.

“I… think I did? Why did I do that? That seems excessive, doesn’t it?” Link asked. He ran his hand up to his head and rubbed his button-like eye.

“Lionel also mentioned you were pretty adamant about telling him that you had a physical recently, like you were worried—”

“Why does my head hurt?”

Carmen set the mug she’d picked up back down on the counter. She watched as Link’s spirit turned pitch black and his form buckled over, as if he were in immense pain. He whimpered. She approached and softly set her hand on his back. She wasn’t gifted like her older brother and couldn’t make much meaningful contact with spirits, nor did she have any special wards or power transferral bands, but she could conjure enough of her supernatural energy to allow a moment of contact so he knew he wasn’t alone.

Being dead must have been horrifying.

“We’ll figure this out, no need to stress,” Carmen whispered.

“I want to go lie down. Can I lie down?” Link mumbled.

“Yes, if you need. Just… don’t go into the chapel, unless you feel the need to see yourself.”

Link continued to crumple his spiritual form up until he was in a ball. He went quiet, and Carmen watched his shape roll through shades of grey. She tried to ask him a few questions but he didn’t respond, he’d used up too much of his spiritual energy, so she went back to the counter to make her coffee. He was a normal human, his spirit was limited in its abilities since it wasn’t meant to still be in this plane of existence. The writer would tire easily, and he was wrestling with the reality of his existence in a way Carmen couldn’t even imagine. For now, all she could do was let the new spirit settle and her boss sleep as the storm continued to chill the late September breeze that blew in over Aspen Harbor.