I’m a mortuary cosmetologist. My job is to smooth away the final wounds of the dead.
But no one knows that I can sometimes “see” the “doors” left on them, doors that lead to their deaths.
Behind those doors are the rules by which they kill.
Then I took on the body of a man whose face had been smashed to pieces, and the “Mirror Wraith” found me through the door. Every polished surface in the morgue reflected the woman who was forever combing her hair.
I tried everything and barely managed to shut the “door.”
The price was one of my fingers, turned into cold glass.
I thought the nightmare was over, at least for now.
But the very next moment, an even more terrifying “Blood Grime” knocked on the morgue door.
And the woman who appeared at the most critical moment, claiming to be from the “Bureau of Anomaly Control,” looked at me no differently than she would a valuable tool.
“You’ve become a lighthouse, food for the darkness.”
“Go home? You’ll only bring death to those around you.”
Now, my left hand bears the eerie glass, while my right grips an unknown card.
Before I’m completely devoured or used up and crushed by the authorities…
I have to learn to close the eyes of every “thing that cannot be seen” with my own hands.
