Exhausted and over literally everything, Carmen finally left Aspen Harbor in the mid-afternoon after ensuring that Lionel had eaten and was heading home. It took a lot of coaxing, but he finally agreed that he needed to step away from work for a while. Carmen reminded him he was allowed to take some bereavement time, so he reluctantly called a nearby funeral home in the closest town to ask if they could handle any incoming death calls for the next day or two with a note that he would be available to unlock the morgue for drop offs and would tend to anyone come Monday.

She’d watched as the funeral director took one final look at the writer—which was insanely awkward when the spirit of the writer was also watching—and he left his not-quite-boyfriend with a soft kiss on the forehead before he closed up the chapel. She told him to call if he needed to talk. Told him to take the weekend off and rest. He thanked her, asked for a hug, and sent her on her way after she’d made sure he shut down the lights and locked the door to his business.

The bigger struggle came as she tried to figure out how to help Link. He didn’t want to stay in the funeral home and she didn’t want him haunting Lionel, so she briefly explained that she lived in a supernatural haven full of otherworldly creatures and could come along so he would be seen by humans and wouldn’t be lonely. His foggy spirit struggled to grasp the sudden truth that monsters existed, but he was so overwhelmed that he’d said screw it and accepted her invitation.

It had been a challenge to coach him through the whole being a ghost thing, but he eventually figured out how to keep himself attached to her car enjoyed the ride down on the winding backroads into the New England forests.

The biggest trouble came once they’d gotten to Brittle Brush, with Link’s spirit turning dark again and complaints of pain returning that rendered him unable to move. He was drawing a lot of attention to himself, and her. So Carmen carefully escorted him inside of her quiet second-floor apartment on the edge of the supernatural town that was coming to life now that the sun was setting. The reaper knew she’d be asked a million questions next time she stepped out of her apartment with so many people noticing her arrival with a recently deceased author on her arm. This day couldn’t get any worse.

Poppy hissed when he noticed the spirit.

“Poppy Pumpernickel McPeppermintPants, do not hiss at our guest! That’s rude,” Carmen said with a dismissive wave at her oversized feline.

Poppy simply flopped over and slapped his tail on the rug.

“I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience,” Link mumbled.

“You’re not. This is kind of a weird situation and I’d rather you hide out somewhere safe. We have a café that sells drinks spirits can consume, I was going to order a latte for myself so I’ll get you something. That should help you recover. For now, try to find something you won’t fall through to nap on. Between the long car ride and how stressful today has been, I can’t imagine you’re doing well,” Carmen said.

“I feel odd.”

“You will for a while. Go rest, Mr. Crane, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She urged him to the living room where her couch, floor pouf, and fuzzy rug were so he’d hopefully find a place to land. She fed Poppy before she stepped out and headed down the stairs, stopping by her downstairs neighbor’s door before she made the trek back out into the rainy streets of Brittle Brush. She knocked a few times and shuffled from foot to foot, only then realizing she was still in her uncomfortable heels. She made a mental note to throw some flats in her car so she could change after funerals.

The door opened and a half-asleep vampire named Ruben appeared with a blood bag between his teeth. The recently turned twenty-two year old’s red eyes were half-closed. His 3C curls had been tucked up under a silk bonnet but a few bleached strands poked out from under the band that sat a bit crooked on his head. It was obvious he’d just woken up for his overnight shift at the general store.

“Sup, Carmen?” he mumbled.

“Hey, so, long story short I have a really lost and scared spirit upstairs who doesn’t quite have control of his form yet that may-or-may not be my boss’ boyfriend and a minor celebrity and a murder vic. He’s in bad shape, so if you suddenly have a ghost fall through the ceiling that’s why,” Carmen said with a grin.

“Not the weirdest thing that’s happened since I signed the lease. Is he not able to move on?”

“No, and you know me, I’m a lame reaper without a scythe so it’s not like I can do it. He’s also—” she leaned in to whisper, “trending on Bootube, so I’m trying to keep him hidden.”

“Bet. You heading to The Styx?”

“Obviously, after the week I’ve had I deserve a treat. You want a cookie?”

“If you expect me to keep this secret you better get me two.”

Carmen laughed. “You got it. Thanks, Ru!”

Ruben gave her a thumbs up and closed his door. Carmen popped open the umbrella she’d snatched up before she left her unit and walked down the dimly lit, winding streets toward Brittle Brush’s café, The Styx, that was nestled between a pizza place and the library. Brittle Brush was a unique haven compared to some of the others in the country. It didn’t have a drawing feature like Broochport’s School of Magic and Divination or Penny Dread University up in New Eden, which was only a few hours away in Vermont. It was significantly bigger than Wylder Wood, a small bit bigger than New Eden, but it was nowhere near as big as Broochport in the Pacific Northwest, and from what she understood it was a small speck compared to Ever Oak—the largest haven and hardest to find since it was tucked away somewhere in the endless dry plains of the south—so Brittle Brush, Maine was mostly unremarkable.

It had all of the usual needs for remote havens: a café, an ice cream shop, a pizza place, a tavern, and a bar for nourishment, with a library, living spaces ranging from apartments to cabins, a stationary shop, the mayor’s office and its necessities like a post office and police station peppering the sides of the road. A few other odds and ends like a general store, a salon, a small gym, and a doctor’s office that also acted as the morgue for the locals rounded out the necessities. It was typical.

The one thing it did have in abundance compared to some of the other havens was history. Many of the havens were indeed old, but Brittle Brush had seen it all, and due to its geographical location it had seen the rise of magic in a unique way. It became a safe space for the country’s witches during the trials hundreds of years prior, and predated even Wylder Wood by over a hundred years, so the sleepy little spooky town was flooded with heightened magical energy.

Crystal and witchery shops, tarot parlors, spellbook boutiques, herbalism stores, broom carpenters, even a witch bag crafter, anything and everything one could need to practice magic was right around the corner. That side of the supernatural world was one Carmen was well acquainted with, so it didn’t feel as odd to call the place home even if it wasn’t where she’d planned to land after she’d graduated from the School of Magic and Divination—the very same school that all Wylders who took up the head position of the clan called their alma mater. Though the McIntyre clan was nowhere near as mighty as the Wylders, they had powerful witches in their lineage, so Carmen and her family were greatly in tune with spell casting and magic.

Though she hardly used it, she did have her very own witch bag—a must-have necessity for any well to-do witch—that she picked up at The Witchery in Broochport. She didn’t have a specialty like most, but she was drawn to water, so the rainy evening lifted her spirits some.

Stepping inside of The Styx, Carmen wasn’t surprised to see a line had already formed despite the fact it was barely nighttime. She waited until it was her turn, taking in the conversations around her from neighbors she’d yet to get acquainted with. She spent so much time holed up in her apartment that she hadn’t done any of the community events, but she was excited about the Halloween festivities coming up and hoped she’d make some connections then.

When she finally got to the front of the line she said hello to the goat-woman behind the counter—she was pretty sure her name was Celeste—and ordered a spirit boba for Link, two blood orange cookies for her downstairs neighbor, and a midnight meteor shower latte for herself. It was her favorite drink, even if it was just a dark chocolate latte with star-shaped marshmallows inside.

With her order in hand, she hurried up the slightly sloping road back to the block of apartments near the only parking lot in Brittle Brush. She dropped off Ruben’s cookies and went back upstairs with the drink carrier and umbrella in hand.

“Okay, Mr.Crane—uh, Link—I got you a boba, I think it’s vaguely taro flavored. How are you feeling?” Carmen asked as she finally kicked her heels off.

“Tired,” Link grumbled.

Carmen looked across her little living room and saw him half-fading into the sofa. He shakily tried to push himself up but struggled to get a grip on something solid to give him the leverage he needed. The mortician walked forward and set the drinks on the coffee table. She squatted beside the furniture and looked at the writer as he finally managed to get himself upright. She handed him the boba cup.

“This should help, it’s imbued with energies that helps spirits recover energy, and the cup has magic in the base so you should be able to hold it,” Carmen explained.

“So the whole magical underworld being a real thing is… real, huh?” Link questioned.

Carmen smiled softly. For an author, Link seemed to struggle when it came to finding the right words in conversation. She wondered if it was one of those situations where his socially awkward demeanor vanished at the keyboard, or if he was really in worse shape than she’d initially thought.

“Yes, my downstairs neighbor is a vampire and a goat-woman made that drink, monsters exist and we’re mostly friendly. Once you feel better we’ll go on a walk to try and get you back to normal so you can see for yourself. It’s going to be hard to figure out what happened to you if you can’t recall much,” Carmen said as she picked up her coffee.

“That whole week is simply… gone. I vaguely remember sending off my last manuscript and getting a haircut but other than that it’s all… nonexistent. It’s worrying. Did you discover anything when you did the autopsy? Assuming you did one?” Link asked. He shoved the straw into the semi-transparent space where his mouth used to be.

“Not much, you did have a folded piece of paper in your mouth with a symbol on it, I took a picture when Lionel wasn’t looking since it got turned over to the police and I’m super nosy, but haven’t had the chance to study it closely.”

“May I see it?”

Carmen nodded. She excused herself to go grab her bag that she’d dropped by the front door. The wooden floor under her sock-covered feet was a bit chilled. The rectangular apartment wasn’t big, merely consisting of an open space where she’d placed her small rug, a couch that could seat two, and her TV and a few bookshelves that matched the dark cherry wood of her dresser. Her bed was tucked up against the back wall under the window which was covered by a tapestry that had the phases of the moon on it. A half-wall—where her TV was set—separated the open kitchen from the living room, and a tiny bathroom was tucked up by the front door. Every square inch seemed to be covered in spooky decor with cartoon ghosts and moons, plants, and books featuring a range of monsters in romantic scenarios and states of undress on the cover.

Phone in hand, she returned to the sofa and sat. Poppy jumped up on the arm of the couch beside her. She flipped through her album and the handful of recent photos she’d taken between the autopsy and the current day until she found the image of the small folded paper that had been placed oh-so-delicately atop the writer’s tongue. That was another thing that Carmen had found odd, the paper was dry and in the transportation from his office to the morgue, one would think that the paper would have slipped down his throat. The thought that it had been placed there after he’d arrived at Kingfisher’s crossed her mind, but she wasn’t sure how that would make sense.

“That’s…” Link whispered.

“Do you recognize it?” Carmen asked as she once again picked up her latte.

“Not exactly, but it has a familiarity to it that I can’t place… like I do know it but I can’t recall why. It makes me uneasy though. I write—well, wrote—horror books, I researched scary things, so it wasn’t uncommon for me to come across things like that. It feels old… dangerous.”

“Hmm…”

Carmen brought the coffee to her lips. She had a feeling she knew just who to ask about it. But for now, she needed to tend to her new semi-ill and highly unlikely roommate. The murder mystery clue gathering could come once the rain passed.