Chapter Text
The attic was unusually quiet. Well, for the living, it was always quiet, but even for its inhabitants, it had been still for some time now. Since Port Townsend, they hadn’t gotten any cases worth their time. The longest it had taken them was yet another case of sprites, and even that only lasted three days.
Charles sighed for the third time in the past hour while sitting on the couch.
“We get it, it’s boring, but we need to note these things down. The Night Nurse will have us dead… or whatever the equivalent is for you guys,” said Crystal.
“I wouldn’t be sighing if it was an interesting case. He got trapped in that house; we freed him. It was nothing. What even is there to note down from this?” Charles called out, exasperated.
Edwin, sitting cross-legged on the floor, didn’t bother joining the argument. He was surrounded by an organized chaos of notes and books, completely absorbed in his research. His hand paused briefly over one of the pages, a faint frown tugging at his lips before he scribbled something down. A collection of old maps and writings sprawled around him, the faintest sketch of what looked like a manor tucked among the mess.
“Edwin, a little help here?” Charles called, exasperated.
Edwin didn’t look up. “What’s the point? I’m not writing the report. I’ve got better things to do.”
Crystal sighed. “No one asked you to obsess over the Nurse’s case.”
Edwin’s voice softened, but his focus didn’t waver. “She trusted me with this, and if there’s even the smallest chance of it happening to someone else, I need to know how to stop it.”
Before anyone could respond, the door flew open.
“Coffees are here!” Niko announced, stepping into the room with her signature energy. She carried a tray with two steaming mugs, her smile bright enough to light up even the shadowiest corner of the attic.
Crystal reached for her mug, muttering, “Took you long enough.”
Niko’s grin didn’t falter as she set the tray down. “Sorry! The line was so long. I think the barista was flirting with me—took forever to make these.” She handed a cup to Crystal, then flopped onto the armrest of the couch beside Charles.
Edwin’s head finally lifted, his gaze softening when it landed on Niko. “You didn’t have to go out of your way.”
“I wanted to.” Her tone was light, but the way she glanced at Edwin carried a quiet reassurance. “You’ve all been so cooped up lately. A little caffeine won’t hurt.”
“Won’t help us either,” Charles muttered, but there was no bite to his words.
“Cause it’s not for you.” Niko stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to Edwin. “You’ve been at that all day. Take a break?”
Edwin’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “Maybe in a bit.”
Niko leaned closer, dropping her voice to a playful whisper. “Promise me you’ll stop before you turn into one of those brooding Victorian poets?”
Charles snorted. “Too late.”
Edwin gave Niko a soft smile before hitting Charles on his leg with a heavy book.
The attic was finally starting to feel a little less suffocating. Crystal sipped her coffee while Charles stretched out on the couch, complaining half-heartedly about the lack of work. Niko chatted away, her voice a bright hum against the background of Edwin’s quiet scribbling.
And then it happened.
“Help! Help!” The man called out, suddenly appearing in their room. Niko flinched at the yelling, and Crystal inched towards her.
“You must… it’s awful… too dark… it hurts…” The man started, his breath catching, and he looked like he was going to faint. Then he did.
For a moment, everything was still. The man collapsed onto the floor, his body limp. He was tall and thin, with sharp, aristocratic features that seemed frozen in an expression of pain. His hair, dark and slightly unkempt, framed his face in waves that suggested a time long past. His clothes were old-fashioned, a faded suit that seemed more fitting for two centuries ago than the present. He had a faint glow to him, a pale, ethereal aura that marked him unmistakably as a ghost.
His eyes fluttered shut before he hit the floor, but for the brief moment, before he fainted, his intense green gaze seemed to pierce through the air, full of a silent desperation that tugged at something deep within the room.
“Oi, mate,” Charles reached out his hand even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to touch him. “He’s a ghost.” He exhaled.
“What!? It can’t be. Ghosts don’t faint or pant as they run—come on…” Crystal stated.
“I know, but look.” Charles touched the man’s shoulder. “I can feel him.”
The man jolted awake as if from an electric shock. Whatever energy had taken over him passed out and went like waves through the four of them. It was powerful magic. How could a ghost possess such strength?
“The Dead Boy Detective Agency?” was the first thing he asked. They nodded in response.
“I am Marvin. Have you heard of the Solis Manor? I need help with a haunting.”
“A ghost needs help with a haunting? Not enough rooms is not an issue we can solve for you, mate.”
“No. I am the ghost that haunts Solis Manor. At least I was. Someone… no, something has taken over.”