“I can’t believe I forgot about my cat,” Link whined. “My poor baby, I’m so sorry, Siren.”

“I’m really starting to worry about you. It’s like someone snatched away a chunk of your memories. Your soul,” Carmen replied quietly. Though Lucy had excused herself to the washroom, the reaper didn’t want to be too loud while talking to what essentially looked like thin air in front of a normal human.

Carmen had set Siren down in the armchair in the corner of the packed office. Every wall was made of floor to ceiling bookshelves, with an oak desk in the center that had one of those old fashioned green glass table lamps, and a computer setup that looked expensive on its surface. A single window sat behind the desk, framing whoever sat there with perfect symmetry. The house was so fancy, Carmen was jealous.

“Don’t worry about Siren. We’ll take her home with us so she can play with Poppy. I think she can sense you, she keeps looking in your direction so I’m sure she’s happy you’re back,” Carmen soothed.

“I feel weird, Carmen,” Link whined.

“He’s really not okay,” Sam mused as he squatted beside the desk. His large frame was hardly hidden by the furniture, even in the human disguise. He pulled out a lock picking kit and started searching for the correct tool to get into the drawers.

“What clued you in to that fact, Sherlock?” Carmen teased.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Where did they find you? Your body, I mean.”

“I… don’t know,” Link whispered.

“Slouched over on his desk,” Carmen replied. “His laptop was on still on, he had a warm cup of coffee, and there were no signs of forced entry. The front door wasn’t latched entirely but the lock was partially engaged and his keys were in their usual spot. Mr. Kingfisher guessed that he may have been in an absentminded state and forgot to fully close it.”

Link looked at them. “I don’t remember that day at all. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, dear. That’s why we’re here. If it stresses you out you don’t have to stay in here,” Demi said from the desk as they, too, squatted beside the drawers by their husband. “Which drawer?”

“Top one, it’s a… dark green notebook, it has an octopus on it with a decorative pen in the elastic,” Link replied as he rubbed his eye again.

Demi nodded and opened the drawer that their husband had just unlocked but stopped when the floor creaked. Everyone turned to look to address Lucy as she returned. Carmen gasped when she saw her employer standing behind the literary agent with a confused look on his face. Lionel Kingfisher looked at his employee and nodded his head back, obviously upset. For a second, it looked as though Lionel had spotted Link, but when Carmen turned to look the writer had vanished. The young mortician’s apprentice excused herself before Lionel utterly stroked out on her from the stress.

She met her boss in the hall.

“What are you doing?” Lionel whispered as he pointed to the living room.

“So, like… um… we’re helping?” Carmen stammered nervously.

“How.”

“So… I kind of had a weird dream?”

The unamused look on Lionel’s face sent shivers down her spine. He looked dead tired, she was pretty sure he’d gone more grey over the weekend. His injured hand trembled excessively as he clutched his raincoat. He hadn’t shaved, his face was covered in light scruff and his eyes were rimmed with purple.

“Carmen—”

“I think the note we found in Link’s mouth came from his notebook. Lucy and I went to The Quirky Quill earlier in the week and they had a display of notebooks with unique paper colors and I woke up in panic when dream-me put it together that I’d seen the colored paper before. Demi is a psychic and Sam is a private eye, and I thought I’d… help,” Carmen said, hoping her on-the-fly lie was convincing enough.

Lionel let out a slow, heavy sigh. He pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he went to speak, Demi approached with the aforementioned notebook in their glove-covered hand. The well-loved hardbound book was tattered, obviously used frequently, and when they turned it around Lionel bit his tongue. The page that Demi had opened it to was missing a familiar section along the bottom.

“I don’t think this was an accident,” Carmen said quietly.

“Even more of a reason for you to stop. Don’t get involved in this,” Lionel replied.

“Perhaps it isn’t wise to delve deep into this situation, but this piece of evidence does seem to have been missed. From what Ms. Buckingham said the local law enforcement has ruled the death as natural causes. I think—though perhaps misguided—Carmen’s worries were warranted,” Demi replied.

“And you are?” Lionel asked, turning on his professional demeanor.

“Demetrius Oddfellow, my husband and I own a private detective agency. We didn’t mean to cause any extra stress, it simply sounded unusual and it’s obviously taking its toll on everyone who cared for Mr. Crane—including you,” Demi said softly.

Carmen nodded. “You look sick, Mr. Kingfisher. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to take care of Siren. I stopped by earlier to check on her then headed out to get supplies and allergy medication. I’m allergic but I couldn’t stand the thought of her ending up in a pound. Link adored her, and Mrs. Crane doesn’t want her,” Lionel replied.

“I have a cat at home, I don’t mind taking her. You don’t need the stress, and Poppy would probably do well with a playmate since I’m gone so much… Unless you want to have that piece of Mr. Crane to remember him by?” Carmen offered, unsure of what he needed.

“As much as I would like to, I think you’re correct, so I would appreciate it if you could give her a good home. How much longer will you all be here? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you all being in our—in Link’s space,” Lionel said nervously.

Demi closed the notebook and looked at him with a curious eyebrow arched. “We will try to be quick, and of course we’ll take this to the police on our way out. Unless you would like to? It may be more believable coming from you, that you happened to come across it while here over a random stranger.”

Lionel and Demi shared tense glances. Carmen could feel a distrust radiating off of them both as she turned her eyes between the two much taller individuals with worry. Lionel merely nodded and excused himself to grab a plastic bag from the kitchen to keep it safe. He returned shortly after with a lunch baggie and opened it up for Demi to drop the book inside. He then told Carmen that he’d unload the purchases he’d made for Siren so she could take it all with her when they left, making it a point to ensure she knew that he wouldn’t be leaving until they all did.

Demi went back into the office to finish up their tasks, leaving Carmen in the living room with Lionel. The mortician sat on the sofa and set his head in his wounded hand.

“Maybe you should go to a doctor? You really don’t look good, your arm is shaking so bad. I’m worried,” Carmen noted gently.

“I’ll be fine. Please don’t get involved in this, Carmen. I’m begging you,” Lionel pleaded.

“But—”

“No, I need you to promise me you will not get involved anymore. We have no idea what we’re dealing with—”

“So you agree this was foul play.”

“Obviously, but that doesn’t mean it’s our place to meddle with it. Neither of us need to become targets, and we don’t need your acquaintances, or poor Lucy, caught in the crossfire of your curiosity.”

“But what about Link?”

“Link is…” Lionel hesitated. “Please, promise me you’ll stop this.”

Carmen nodded. It was a lie, but Lionel was obviously stressed and she didn’t want to add to his issues. He mouthed a soft thank you and closed his eyes. Out of the corner of her vision, Carmen saw Link poke his head around the door frame, obviously worried about Lionel.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” Carmen asked, though she wasn’t sure which of the men it was really directed at.

“It doesn’t matter…” Lionel whispered. “Not now.”

“It does, though.”

“Then I suppose I did… I do… This is destroying me, Carmen. I don’t know if I can do this without him. I’m so tired…”

“Take a break, please. I promise I’ll stop meddling if you promise me you’ll take the week off. You need to let yourself grieve and rest.”

“I’ll see how I feel tomorrow… I’m going to lie down for a short while. Please don’t linger.”

Carmen nodded in understanding and left Lionel on the sofa in the living room. She returned to the small hallway that separated it from the kitchen where Link floated nervously. The little hall was full of paintings and gothic artwork, with a few interesting boating decor pieces scattered throughout.

Link looked at her with worry. She smiled.

“I don’t know…” Link whispered.

“Don’t know what?” Carmen asked as she urged him back into the office.

“Don’t know why he’s acting like we weren’t… together.”

“What do you mean?”

Link’s spirit turned dark again, almost black.

“I’m was sure he was about to propose… I love him…” Link mumbled.

Carmen stopped walking and looked at him, then looked back where she’d come from.

“He said you’d only been on a few dates,” Carmen mentioned.

Link whipped around. His spirit went pitch black.

“We’ve been together for a year,” Link whined.

An overwhelming wave of negative energy rolled over his spirit, the lights in the home flickered. A few of the windows rattled. Demi raced out of the office and snatched him up by the arm, which snapped him out of his panic when he was overwhelmed by the sense of touch and contact. The paper witch pulled him back so they’d stop making so much noise chatting in the open.

“He also said it was a secret, so he may be trying to protect everyone by pretending things are casual. This feels like foul play, we all know it, so he could be trying to keep us all safe. He wouldn’t have been able to handle your funeral if he didn’t pretend like you all were merely acquaintances. I’m sure he doesn’t intend to hurt anyone—especially you, not that he knows he can, but you know what I mean,” Carmen reassured.

Link’s spirit lightened in hue by a few shades but it was obvious he was truly upset. Carmen didn’t know how to help, she didn’t know how to wrap her mind around the fact the relationship went much deeper than she’d been told. Granted, she knew Lionel wasn’t being entirely truthful, but she didn’t realize it had been that committed.

“As much as I’d love to continue to look around, I feel as if we shouldn’t stay much longer so let us be quick so we can exit before arousing more suspicion,” Demi said quietly.

Carmen nodded and followed the paper witch and the writer back into the office. Sam had moved and was now squatting in front of a door, looking intently at the lock. He flicked his eyes over to the returning group. Carmen closed the office door for privacy as she stepped inside.

“What’s in here?” the detective asked.

“I don’t know,” Link replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam pressed further.

“I… don’t know? The door has been locked ever since I bought the house, I hired several locksmiths and no one can get it open. It isn’t on the blueprints so I kind of left it alone, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was inside,” he explained.

“Huh.”

Link wrapped his ghostly arms around his upper body and floated over for a few seconds before deciding to walk the rest of the way. It seemed that he was slowly getting used to his new form but struggled to grasp the truth of it. Walking felt normal. Felt human. So why would he try anything else?

“Didn’t the little mushroom girl say this doorknob was rattling?” Sam asked.

Carmen tried not to laugh. It would be impossible to not call Lucy mushroom girl now. Damn him, he was funny for a demon. 

“She did, yeah. Do you think something supernatural could be behind it?” Carmen asked.

“I’m not sensing anything but the house does have a strange vibe to it. It’s hard to pinpoint all of the wayward energies, and Mr. Crane’s aura is so agitated right now that it’s overpowering everything else. Perhaps if the door has been sealed that thoroughly, that intensely, we don’t want to know what’s behind it. At least, not right now when things are so volatile,” Demi proposed.

“So we should probably call it, huh?” Carmen asked.

“I would say that might be wise. The house’s secrets may not be ready for us just yet,” Demi replied with a firm nod.

Sam pulled a small leather-bound notebook out from his back pocket. He scribbled a sigil on its surface and handed it over to Demi who snatched it up in manicured nails. They tore it from the binding and rubbed their fingers agains the surface, which caused the sigil to glow a deep red before they folded it into a small paper flower and tucked it into the crack between the door and the frame.

“What was that?” Carmen inquired.

“A ward,” Demi replied.

“And a threat,” Sam added as he stood. He tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “It lets anyone who may be snooping know the house has already been looked into by some powerful people. Hopefully it’ll keep troublemakers at bay since it will emanate a particular energy to those sensitive to the world of the supernatural.”

“It will also keep the house protected from any negative energies that might try to slip into the cracks in the foundation,” Demi said.

“So, that’s it then?” Carmen asked.

“That’s it,” Demi replied. “We should go before your boss, or Mr. Crane, gets more upset. I have a feeling they’re feeding off of each other. Mr. Crane, is there anything you’d like to take with you? Anything small we can sneak away?”

Link looked around his office for a moment. “There’s… a photo in my bedroom, in a black frame with an anchor on it. I’d like to keep that if I can… I’m sure there’s more but that’s all my brain can focus on right now.”

“I’ll go get it, we should tell Lucy we’re leaving and get Siren ready to go,” Carmen said quietly. 

She snuck back outside and headed to the library to go inform Lucy that they would be leaving. The agent looked sad but nodded in understanding, asking if they could maybe meet up for coffee in the morning before she had to leave town. Carmen agreed with a smile before she went to go find the photo.

Link’s bedroom was about what she’d expected after seeing the rest of the home. Dark green-blue walls with black accents, bookshelves full of novels and DVDs, nautical themed decor, and a massive octopus on the duvet. The photo of Lionel and Link in front of a lighthouse on a grey, cloudy day sat on the nightstand. They looked happy, in love. A handsome couple. Next to the frame was a fancy box that appeared to have a really nice pen inside. The black writing utensil had a tag with it that said ‘To Link, Love Always’ in what she immediately recognized as Lionel’s handwriting. She decided to take that, too.

Tucking the items into her pockets, she hurried back to the front of the house and prepared herself mentally to manage the hurricane-force emotions that would follow the writer home on their way back to Brittle Brush.