In that moment, I felt everything escaping me. All feeling, all sense of the world around me, all understanding of who I was, being drained through the silent scream trapped behind my frozen lips. It wasn't until a swift breeze and a shock of bone-chilling cold passed through my body, that my muscles finally gave out and I collapsed to the floor.

"You need to leave here now," demanded a voice that floated a little ways from me.

As my body retaliated with a fit of shivers, fighting off the lingering cold left by the sudden passage of a ghost through my body, I managed to look up to find a familiar face drifting above me.

"T-t-trevorrr," I muttered, my teeth chattering.

"I'll explain later, but for now go upstairs and get warm." The ghost, a young man with wispy hair and a determined set to his jaw, gave me one last look before facing off with the still shrieking ghost, that undulated and whimpered before the new arrival.

Not waiting to be told again, I dragged myself along the floor until my legs found themselves and managed to propel me towards the stairwell some distance away. Without looking back, I fumbled up the stairs, relying heavily upon the railing to keep me aloft. Once I managed to scale three basement levels, I finally emerged on to the first floor where cheery sunlight filtered through the many windows and burned away the remnants of the chilling touch I had felt down below.

With my legs now reliable, yet still weak, I made my way to the closest sofa and fell down with a grateful sigh. Though I must have looked pale and frightened beneath my trembling, none of the handful of patrons perusing the shelves gave me any notice. Strange was simply the norm in a town like Whisper Valley.

"I'm really sorry about that Del," said a voice that once again startled me from my stupor. Hopping up into a sitting position, I wrapped my arms tight around me to stifle my shiver and looked for the source of the voice.

"Trevor, you're okay," I said with relief curling my words. The assurance that my savior made it unscathed offered a drop of warmth that spilled over my shoulders and eased the tension pulsing through me. My arms unfolded and my hands fell to my sides as I reclined back into the chair.

"Yeah, it takes a lot to do a ghost in," he said with a playful smile, before a nervous hand went up to run through hair that was far too ethereal to be in any need of combing. "Were you actually worried about me?"

"Of course," I replied. "Despite the variety of unusual and sometimes horrifying things I've seen here, what just happened is a new experience. I didn't need my favorite librarian being destroyed by whatever that was." It was true, though I may have worried for any other ghostly attendant that worked at the library, Trevor was the only one I was on a first name basis with. The others tolerated my presence and offered me help when I needed it, but, like with most ghosts, they seemed to lack any particular interest in the material world. Trevor, however, often chatted with me about the books I was reading and always greeted me with a warm smile.

"Well, that was just another ghost like me," he said with an even wider smile that created a rather jarring juxtaposition alongside my memory of the ghost he was now equating himself to. "She's just troubled."

"That looked like more than just trouble to me."

"How much do you know about ghosts, Del?" There wasn't frustration or annoyance in his voice, only curiosity.

"Well, I know that to become a ghost, you have to tether yourself to the world. You can't be converted by another ghost, like vampires, werewolves, and zombies do." I knew that little fact thanks to a fellow human and Body, Violet. I still didn't know her reasoning for wanting to become a ghost, since the first rule of the Body code was to never ask about a Body's first life, however, I did know that was her intention. She was being trained by a ghost and a mage to best prepare herself for anchoring her soul to the world when she is euthanized at the end of her contract.

"That's correct," said Trevor with a light smile. "Only the strongest emotions can keep you attached to this life. Something like love, anger, or regret. But, outside of that, do you know what it's like to be a ghost?"

"Well," I said, my eyes turning up to the ceiling as I thought back to my encounters with Spencer at the hotel, "you can't interact with the material world unless you have a lot of training. Otherwise you simply pass through things. Although..." I shivered as I recalled my experience just fifteen minutes earlier. "When a ghost does pass through something it leaves a sort of ghostly residue."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said with a sheepish grin. "I figured the best way to break the shock coursing through your system was to counteract it with another shock. I came bolting down the moment I heard Jessie's cry, but when I saw you frozen there, I figured the best way to get to her was through you — literally."

"Well, it worked and I'm grateful for that, even if I might be a bit fidgety for the rest of the day."

Trevor responded with a grateful laugh that lit his clear blue eyes and brought life to what should have been a deathly face. "That's good to hear, but I suppose what I really want to know is how familiar you are with our shape, our form."

"I have no idea what you're made out of," I said with a shake of my head. "If that's what you mean."

"What you see is the aura of our souls," he said, gesturing to the muscular figure that he hid beneath a ghostly pair of jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and a sweater vest. "We shape it as we see ourselves. For most they appear as they did in life, choosing to look as they did at an age they treasured the most. For others they appear as they had always envisioned themselves, the selves they always wanted to be in life but couldn't. Whatever form we feel most comfortable in is the one we take because it is the easiest to hold."

"So you could transform into anything?" I asked with a curious smile lighting my lips. In response, he shared a playful smirk before transforming into a ghostly white rabbit. After a minute of me cooing over how adorable his new form was, he shifted back into the Trevor I'd come to know. "That's amazing," I replied with deep awe.

"This is nothing," he said with a laugh. "We have one resident here who often goes out to a town several miles away and haunts a cinema that used to be a theater. He had always wanted to be an actor in real life and died with severe regret after he failed to achieve that dream. Now he's able to form his aura into multiple entities, a talent he now uses to put on his own plays there."

"He what?" I asked with a shake of my head. "Doesn't that threaten your security? Won't people figure out what's going on?"

"How many shows do humans have about ghost hunters?" he replied with a snort of laughter. "Most of the time people misinterpret what's going on and the rest of the time they're too terrified of being right. Ghosts haunted the material world long before Whisper Valley was founded and humans are still none the wiser. Plus, the cinema loves his shenanigans, he's turned the place into quite the tourist trap."

"Too bad, I'll never get to see it," I muttered, recalling my imprisonment in the town.

"Become one of us and you're free to do as you like," he reminded me with a warm smile. I wondered then if the handsome young man that I saw before me was how Trevor looked in real life or how he wanted to be seen. As I deliberated this, I recalled the other ghost, whose form had caused such a jarring turn in my day.

"What about Jenny? What about her form?" I asked.

"It's Jessie," he corrected, before pausing to consider his next words. "See, the reason I asked about all this is because to understand what you just saw, you have to understand how we live our lives. Many ghosts find what they were missing once they take on their ethereal state. However, for some, their reasons for not moving on are so consuming that they can't gather themselves enough to properly form into a ghost. Well, at least not a benign one."

"Are you saying, Jessie is dangerous?" I gulped back the sudden rise of fear boiling in my throat as I considered what could be lurking just below our feet.

"No," he replied with a sigh, "not yet anyway. Jessie didn't love herself in life and when she died, filled with anger and regret, she couldn't bring herself back to the form she once wore. Problem is, she doesn't know what she wants to be, so she doesn't really wear a new form either. She just doesn't know who she is and as a result, has a very difficult time maintaining her image."

"That's terrible," I muttered, suddenly regretting the resentment I felt towards the ghost that had frightened me so thoroughly.

"Unfortunately, it can get worse," he continued. "We try to help her by letting her work the deeper levels of the archive where so few people tread — whether they be human, vampire, werewolf, or whatever. The cataloging calms her and she doesn't feel the stress of maintaining an image for others. It helps, but it's just a bandage and not a cure. As you've seen, it takes only a surprise interaction to send her into a panic. She can't figure out how to form herself and if she keeps spiraling like this, she's destined to become a revenant."

"What's a revenant?"

"An undead whose soul is so torn and broken that it fights both life and death. She'll exist in the space between, taking on a semi corporeal form that will indiscriminately inflict violence upon all around her."

***

Poor Jessie is a reminder that though Del has mainly encountered supernatural beings who seem happy with their after life, many got there because of a rather tragic first life.  What would you do in the after life if you were a ghost?

And this was another exposition heavy chapter, but I should be moving away from that since I think I'm done bringing readers up to speed.  At least I hope I am...