Rivergate Tower, the beer can-shaped skyscraper, is straight ahead, with red and green Christmas lights strung around each of its plethora of windows. Cars speed past me along Kennedy Boulevard, their drivers undoubtedly hurrying home for the last-minute rush before the holidays.

I turn my back on the spectacular view of the Tampa skyline to navigate my way through the University of Tampa campus. I walk through a courtyard filled with palm trees and oaks. Spanish moss drapes one of the sprawling oaks and I wonder what lurks within. Hesitantly, I press on, questioning the wisdom of willing myself to this distance from Plant Hall. Who knows whether wards have been cast on the building? But still, the tree scares me.

The tree, though, can do me no harm. My humanly fears and worries linger, but I decide to woman up.

My pace quickens as the moss hangs overhead, the plant's leaves resembling a reaper's chain inching toward me. The wind kicks up and the moss swings violently. Three bats fly out of the tendril and I duck to avoid them. That was too close for comfort. I continue on glad the animals can do me no harm and ecstatic to have distance from the moss.

Before long, I am in front of the opulence that is Plant Hall. The five-story, brick building was built by railroad magnate Henry Plant. Minarets, domes, and cupolas top the former Tampa Bay Hotel, which serves as a museum and part of UT's campus.

The faintest of voices pulls my attention away from Plant Hall's architecture. I inch forward, trying to locate the source. I rise to the fifth story and peer inside the head of the gingerbread-shaped window. A man in a brown pinstriped suit floats through the hallway, calling for Marie. His spread-color shirt, the suit's wide pantlegs, and the Charlie Chaplin mustache on his face suggest he met his death in the 1920s.

But his is not the voice who caught my attention. As the ghost turns around and calls out for his Marie once more, Oliver bolts inside a room and Jose follows. Bracing myself for failure, I shrink to a pebble and enter through the window.

The ghost in the brown pinstripes continues his path to the other end of the hall without acknowledging my arrival. I smile at my luck. No alarm-sounding wards have been cast here. But it does not mean the next room has been left unprotected, or that my luck will hold.

I inhale a deep breath outside the door and decide to enter through the old skeleton keyhole.

The science lab is full of ghosts, probably thirty of them, with each fashion era in Tampa's history represented. Greeting each other by name first, they part to allow Oliver and Jose passage to the middle.

I crawl along the ceiling and hover overhead as Jose orders the meeting open. He looks over the other ghosts and his lips downturn.

"Donde esta' Carlita?"

I can feel my face match Jose's in its seriousness.

"I haven't seen her since last night at Howl," the man with sideburns and bellbottoms says.

A teen who would appreciate my ghostly clothing steps forward. Clearly she died wanting to be Madonna and Cindi Lauper. "We were, like, totally supposed to go to Carmine's together after the meeting. I waited for her 'til sunrise, and when she didn't show, it was, like, gag me with a spoon, she's stood me up again."

A look of confusion crosses the pirate's face. Oliver bends to his ear and whispers the translation.

"Ah, so... Jennifer, does this 'stand you up' happen often with Carlita?"

Jennifer's attention flicks to a ghost opposite her. He inches toward them, glowering like he's ready to pounce. "Take a chill pill, dude."

Once the American soldier from the Spanish-American War slinks away, Jennifer's gaze returns to Jose. "She's like so radically late everytime we go out, but she always shows. Not last night, though. It's like she just disappeared."

Jose seems to give it some thought. Oliver interrupts, "Did she still have the devilsfoil?"

The crowd hushes to the point that I could hear a pin drop.

"She, like, totally had it last week. I guess she got into a righteous fight with a reaper, cut him to pieces with it. I'm sure it was grody to the max."

Oliver's eyes narrow. His body tenses. "Did you witness the fight?"

"No, but she told me about it. Some reaper named Dave. She watched him harvest her boyfriend's soul and went into a tizzy." Jennifer stares at the glowering ghost. She shifts from foot to foot, clearly nervous. As the soldier approaches them again, she exclaims, "Dude, you're freaking me out."

Oliver turns to confront the ghost. "Either cut it out, Greg, or go. We're trying to conduct a meeting here. Had you been more effective in the position, you'd still be in charge."

Greg seems to deliberate his choices. After a couple of seconds of butter-like tension, he positions himself at the back of the science lab and watches from afar, his attention never straying from Oliver and Jose.

Jose asks, "You're positive Carlita killed the reaper?" Jennifer nods her answer. "That does not bode well for us. Derek has been spotted in the area."

At the sound of Derek's name, a collective gasp fills the room. It takes several calls for attention for Jose and Oliver to regain control of the ghosts, with Greg smiling from the back of the room as it descends into chaos.

Jose is the first to speak. "He will not be a problem for much longer. I know a ghost who he's marked for crossing, and she seems willing to fight him. I will need an extra piece of devilsfoil for us to rid ourselves of Derek forever. Who is willing to donate to the cause?"

Cries of "Reapers don't let ghosts walk away," "they don't give a timestamp on when they're harvesting," and "how do we know she will use it on him" drown out any reassurances by the pirate and my former boss. Several ghosts zap themselves out of the lab after voicing their disbelief and their desire to remain on this side of the curtain. The room has lost half its ghosts by the time Jose can be heard.

"Cowards! This ghost wants to live the same as you and me. He will come for her and she will use the devilsfoil to send him to the other side."

I am glad Jose is giving me options, but why does he think I'm eager to do his bidding? This reeks of him using me to keep his hands clean while I assume all the risk.

My deal with Derek is almost complete. Carlita has killed my reaper, and with so many gone missing, my honest guess is that the ghosts have been killing the reapers any chance they get. Once I summon Derek, I'm as good as free. This is one fight I'd rather not find myself enmeshed.

Greg steps forward. His smile twists into a grimace. "And why should we trust a pirate? In my seventy years as leader, it is only the past two weeks we have faced trouble with the reapers. Oddly enough, that correlates to when you two" he points to Oliver and Jose "usurped my leadership. Derek will be on the warpath when he discovers the fate of the other reaper. Jose knows what happens when ghosts fight battles with the gatekeepers."

Greg turns to the other ghosts. "These two ghosts promised you change and you bought into it. Is a fight with the reapers the change you so desired? I was here during the Ghost Rebellion of 1935 and witnessed firsthand the terror Derek can inflict when one of his reapers is merely harmed. He is ruthless. He takes no prisoners.

"We lost a great many ghosts after a group held off a reaper from harvesting old Balthazar Bertwinkle. Derek came back for the man and took half our population as a lesson." He pauses, seeming to allow time for the ghosts to process his words. "If I recall, Jose was not so brave back then. Isn't that right?"

Jose clenches his teeth. "I was in Espana. I had heard my beloved Paloma was there, searching for me. I had no idea the Rebellion had transpired until I returned several months later."

"Convenient. I distinctly recall your involvement in the Balthazar incident, how you incited the group to attack the reaper."

Jose takes a step backward. With his hand over his heart, he screams, "I did no such thing. Balthazar was my friend, but he had become a liability, as we all discussed decades ago. He was creating an army of ghosts."

"Much like you're doing today, only this time you're arming those you trust." His attention returns to the remaining ghosts. "The reapers will only harm us if we interfere with their work or become a nuisance to the point they are summoned. They're busy enough with harvesting human souls that they don't need or want to deal with us in addition to their actual responsibilities."

Jose lunges at Greg, but Oliver pulls him back by the collar. For a second, Jose looks like he is going to attack Oliver. Oliver's stern expression stops Jose in his tracks. The pirate relaxes and takes what might be his first breath in a hundred years.

Oliver drops his guard then pivots so each ghost may see him. Once he has their full attention, he stops to confront Greg. "Greg, you lost the vote. Jose and I have done nothing you've accused us of. The devilsfoil has been distributed as a means to protect us from those who'd just as soon witness our death, those like you, for instance. There has been no call to battle. We are merely giving ourselves an insurance policy and evening out the odds."

He talks so smoothly I could almost believe him and would, if Carlita hadn't attacked me last night.

"And yet a reaper is dead. The two of you should have left the devilsfoil alone, forgotten about it."

"It is too late for coulda, shoulda, and woulda. We" he points to Jose and himself "are men of action. We will defend ourselves should the need arise, and because of Carlita, that need might be upon us sooner than we ever anticipated. We must deal with Carlita at once. She will need to be relieved of the devilsfoil before she crosses—if she hasn't already."

Jennifer's eyes bulge at the suggestion.

Greg takes another step forward. He is now within striking distance of Oliver. "So now you have added judge, jury, and executioner to your duties as our leader?"

"Carlita may have started a war. Is her fair trial worth the deaths of hundreds or thousands of us? We can have our human contact summon Derek and tell him what has happened. We will even allow him to carry her across himself. It will avert any crisis with the reaper."

"And what of the devilsfoil? Do you honestly believe Derek will allow this?"

Jose speaks up. "It won't matter because Derek will be sent across with Carlita or by our friend whose soul he will harvest within a week. He won't hear about the devilsfoil until it sends him to the other side."

I shiver at the words. Greg is the only ghost who does not cheer at them.

"And suppose he already has Carlita and knows about the devilsfoil. What then?" Greg says once the whoops and hallers have died down.

"Then we're going to need all the devilsfoil we can find and our survival will be dependent upon our friend's success in killing the reaper."

I let out a gulp as the clock strikes. The ghost of a young child dressed in a nightgown stares up at my perch on the ceiling. She tugs the hem of the pajamaed woman beside her.

"Mommy, what's that blue light?" She points directly at me.

Before her mother can answer, I fly through the ceiling and over the heavily decorated downtown until I reach Palma D'Oro.

Safely in the hallway, I think about all that transpired during the meeting and wish I could have remained clueless to the politics among the ghosts and reapers. I feel like a pawn in some battle greater than I ever guessed. And it seems many could die with a bad choice.

I cross into Margaret's apartment with a heart heavier than the weight of a thousand skyscrapers. Fortunately she is not there while I gather my thoughts.

_______________________

Author's note: Thank you for still being here! I hope you're enjoying the story. I *really* need some help from you, if you would be so kind. I'm trying to make sure all my loose ends are nicely tied up into a neat little package. Obviously, you want to know who the murder(s) is/are. There's also the missing reapers. Is there anything else that is niggling at you or that you would like to have addressed by book's end? Thanks again. Hard for me to believe that I'm down to the last nine or ten chapters.