That same morning, after a breakfast of cereal (Greg) and oatmeal (Taz), before they could get to brainstorming how they were going to earn enough money to pay rent, there was a knock at the door.
With Taz standing a few paces behind, watching in mild curiosity, it was up to Greg to get it. There was no peephole, so Greg kept the chain lock in place and cracked the door open.
Before him stood a rather unassuming man, if a bit lanky. A bit on the tall side, gray hair, cloudy blue eyes. He wore a pair of grey slacks and a white button-down shirt. Greg thought the formal wear to be a poor fit for the blazing summer sun that had already started its journey across the sky.
“Um, hello?” Greg felt awkward. The man hadn’t said anything for several seconds, just staring at Greg, a faint smile on his face.
“Hey there, neighbor! Nice to meet you. The name’s Amar,” the man introduced himself in a raspy voice of someone who’s throat was as dry as a desert. “I live in the unit right next to yours,” he pointed to his left, “and I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself before I head off to work.” He must have intentionally waited until Greg and Taz had finished settling in before coming to greet them. Greg wasn’t sure how exactly they had known. Maybe Amar didn’t know, and had just assumed they would be moved in by the start of the work week.
Greg stared at him a moment before shutting the door and quickly unlatching the chain so he could step out and properly greet his new neighbor. “Hey, I’m Greg and that’s,” he stepped to the side and gestured behind him, “is Taz. We’re new here,” he didn’t specify what here meant, letting Amar assume he meant new to town, “just moved in. Still getting used to the place.”
Greg held out a hand for Amar, which he took.
Cold.
Amar’s hand was worryingly fridged, like had stuck it in an icebox until his fingers went numb. His hand was also strangely stiff.
Greg was brought back to attention by a cough from Taz. Greg had just been standing there, staring at the hand he had grasped, not even shaking it. Rather than complete the handshake, Greg just let go awkwardly.
Oh my god, he cringed and groaned internally.
Taz must have sensed his dismay, because he stepped forward to take over the conversation.
“Well, we won’t keep you any longer than we have to. Can’t be late for work, right?” Taz had provided Amar with a way to end the conversation.
Amar, much to Greg’s relief, took it. “Ah yes, traffic is awful unless you get an early start. Luckily, even if I am, it’s not like anyone can do anything about it,” he smirked conspiratorially.
“Oh?” Taz leaned forward a bit.
“I’m the owner. Serenity Funeral Home.” He offered a light bow. “Some may find it a bit grim to work with the recently departed and their remaining family, but I take solace in helping others find peace.”
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Before either Taz or Greg could comment, Amar glanced at his phone briefly before putting it away. “Ah, I might be a bit late after all,” he flashed an embarrassed smile. “I might be the boss, but it doesn’t help company morale to show up after your employees do.”
“Have a nice day.” Greg mumbled after the retreating figure.
---
“Did that guy seem a bit… off to you?” Taz asked.
Now that Greg thought about it, yes. There was something strange about Amar. “His hand was cold, almost painfully so. And stiff, like he had a bad case of arthritis. But he didn’t even flinch when I grabbed it.”
Taz nodded. “He didn’t blink once during the entire conversation.”
What? “Seriously?” Greg asked in disbelief.
Taz confirmed. “Yep. Also…” he trailed off. “I don’t think he’s human. A living human, I mean.”
Greg thought Taz was being rude before he remembered that he was talking to a literal demon, one with far more knowledge and experience with the occult than he had. Taking a moment to review the facts, it was pretty obvious in hindsight that the man was not a mundane human. Feeling a bit disappointed in himself for not realizing it on his own, Greg tried to move the conversation forward. “Well, any ideas of what he might be specifically? A zombie?”
Taz shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. He had too much fine motor control, and while he isn’t technically alive, he isn’t dead either. It felt more like possession rather than reanimation.”
Felt? Greg filed that away for later.
Taz continued, “beyond that, there aren’t enough clues. Well, beyond the fact that he runs a funeral home.”
Greg had a thought. “Isn’t it kind of rude to pry? He seems friendly enough. I mean, we’ve been here for a few days already, and he hasn’t tried anything. I think.”
“This might be disingenuous, but personally, I would like to know if I’m living next to a serial killer.” Shaking his head, Taz continued, “I won’t snoop. But I will confirm.”
“Trust, but verify?”
“Yeah, that. Anyways, I’ll have to do some research. If you want to help, we’re looking for a spirit that possesses the dead, retains their intelligence, and can get along with humans, and may in fact be a necromancer or soul mage. There are countless spirits out there, but few who can actively pass as human and prefer staying under the radar.”
Greg nodded. He might in fact be of some help here. As the only tech-literate members of the cult, he had been tasked with digitizing their collective knowledge. He scanned grimoires and scrolls, took pictures of artifacts and trinkets they had acquired over the years, organized and catalogued it all, then uploaded the collection to a private server. Greg still had access to the server, and he kept a local copy on his laptop as well. Every time he had to search through that multi-gigabyte monster, he patted himself on the back for the excellent job he did of tagging everything. Instead of spending hours sifting through irrelevant search results and page upon page of cryptic text, the longest he had spent trawling through the database was a whopping thirty minutes.
Greg had few things he truly loved doing. One of those things was, oddly enough, investigative or detective work. Solving mysteries. He loved reading Sherlock Holmes as a kid. In recent years, he would listen to podcasts that told real-life mysteries, wherein the answer would be revealed at the start of the next episode. Greg had been silently proud of himself for how often he was right. Sometimes, the answer just felt right, even if it was, according to other listeners, not at all obvious. Of course, being a broke college student studying electrical engineering, he had never actually done any real mystery solving of his own. But he secretly yearned for a bit of adventure, a mystery to solve.
And what could be more extraordinary than solving a magic mystery? Even if it was a stretch to call a bit of profiling an investigation, it relit a fire in him that had been forgotten amidst the woes of college and his subsequent dropping out.