Dorian pulled the stool to himself, and sat down, quite tiredly, too.

Harper, now being a ghost and all, didn’t really remember the feeling of being tired – she just knew she was angry.

“You’re not lying about being murdered, are you?” he asked her, toying with his fingerless gloves.

“No…why would I?”

“Well, since you apparently have ‘unfinished business’, as some like to say, so you’ve been granted powers,” Dorian closed his eyes, and let the new ghost soak up the information.

“These powers come with a price, though; you can use them only to avenge your death,” he continued, his head lolling back. “And – you have a time limit. If you don’t get your revenge within a year, you’ll be taken to the S.S.S. without a question.”

“What’s the S.S.S.?”

Dorian released another breath. “It stands for Spirit Sorting Society. That’s where you’re judged.”

“Judged according to what criterion?”

“You’ll find out later.”