My name is Danny Morita and I’m a Shinigami. That means “death spirit,” more or less. For those of you who watch those new-fangled Japanese cartoons, we don’t go around fighting people with stupidly huge swords or drop killer notebooks to mess with mortals’ heads. We help the dead take care of their unfinished business so they can cross over to the other side. It’s a messy job sometimes.

It was cold that day in In-Between Town. It’s always been cold for all the years I’ve lived here. I was thinking about all the things I got wrong in my life, trying to get drunk (not easy when you’re dead, I’ll tell you what) and cursing the heating when I heard a knock on the door. A woman came in. Her hair was long and smooth, her skin was pale. She wore a white dress stained with blood. A murder victim, then. This should be interesting.