Jazz sighed in relief as she hung up the phone. Finally! At long last! She placed the phone down at the kitchen table she was seated at and smiled. She barely even noticed the large, cardboard boxes filled up and taped shut occupying the majority of the kitchen. She had only a week left before she finally moved out of here. Until now, the only job offers she got were always about ghosts. Ghost hunting, ghost chasing, ghost communicating. This is exactly why she was moving out of Amity Park. Because her entire life had been nothing but ghosts, thanks to her mother. Back when she was alive, her mother wasn't just some ghost hunter, but an expert as well. She knew all about their powers, their habits, their weaknesses, their biology, their ecology. The list just went on.

After her death, everyone here expected Jazz to pick up the torch. And she did for the next few years. At first, she tried the academic approach and attempted to finish that paper her mother hoped would be published in some academic ghost physiology journal. Jazz soon found herself bored to tears. She soon quit that and decided it would be a good idea to hunt down the ghosts loose throughout the town, just like her mother did. That soon proved to be problematic, for quite often, whatever ghost Jazz was attempting to capture would usually outsmart her somehow and leave her battered, bruised, and slimed. Then Jazz thought perhaps it would be better if she started smaller, like making house calls to those who claim a ghost was haunting their old, spooky house. Yet again, this turned out disasterous, as the house would usually end up looking worse after she had caught the ghost, if she even caught the ghost at all.

Sick of being beaten, frustrated, and humiliated, Jazz called it quits. Obviously, she wasn't cut out to be a ghost hunter. But, If she wasn't going to hunt, then what was left? She had a degree in psychology. Maybe now was the time to put it to good use. For the next few weeks she filled out applications almost everyday. School counselor, human resources, whatever she could find, quite sure that someone would soon hire her. Her optimism faded away over the next few months after recieving almost nothing but rejections from potential work oppurtunities. Most likely because they were worried the ghosts would follow Jazz into her new career.

That's not to say she didn't get job offers. Other ghost hunters and teams of ghost experts would call almost everyday. Some were filming a TV show, some weren't. But all were trying to use her mother's name for their own fame. And since her mother was gone now, they went for the next best thing. For once, she just wanted to be someone other than "the ghost hunter's girl," or "Maddie's kid." Or for those who've actually seen Jazz work, "the not very good ghost hunter." And now she finally found something. A daycamp counselor. It wasn't anything big, but it was a start.

A knock on the door interrupted her celebrating.

"Oh, now what," she said.

Her mood started to dampen as she imagined what ghost TV show producer had come to harass her this time. Jazz stomped over to the door and yanked it open.

"Oh!" she cried out in surprise, "It's only-"

Her visitor shoved opened the door as he rushed in, nearly knocking Jazz into the wall.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," he said, brushing back a strand of his long, dark hair, "I'm in the middle of a hunt and I need to restock. Quickly."

"Uh, sure," Jazz answered, shutting the door, "Dan, right? I've got everything down at the lab."

He followed her down to the basement. Her mother had converted it into a laboratory shortly after buying the house. This is where she would conduct her experiments for her studies and create her line Fenton Works gadgets. The lab used to be filled to the brim with lasers, bazookas, weird chemicals that Jazz could never pronounce, and other ecto related junk. Now, it was all just bare shelves filled with dust and a few loose bolts. The bare floor needed to be swept, which Jazz had promised herself she'd do after moving those boxes all piled in the corner out of the way. She opened one of those boxes and started digging through its contents.

"I assume you want the usual?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"Good, 'cause that's all I've got left," Jazz pulled out a white backpack with neon green zippers and a green "Fenton" slapped onto its front, "Now, remember, after this week, I'm gone for good. If you need to restock, you're going to have to go to-"

"Yeah, yeah," Dan interrupted as he grabbed the backpack,"I remember. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house. I just want to get rid of what I've got."

He shrugged and started to head up the stairs. Then he stopped for a moment and turned back towards her.

"There's thermoses in here, right?"

"Yeah," Jazz answered, looking at him strangely, "Why?"

"'Cause what I'm hunting... How come she couldn't-" Dan stopped as if thinking better of it, "Nevermind."

He climbed up a few more steps before asking her another question.

"You ever hear of this ghost called the Queen of the Forest?"

"No," Jazz shook her head, "Why?"

He paused for a moment and stared at the wall in thought. Then he shook his head and walked up the stairs and out the door. Jazz continued to stare at the steps long after Dan had left.

"Queen of the Forest?" she wondered out loud.

What did he mean by that? Maybe she was the ghost he was hunting, perhaps? But, why did he seem so concerned about the thermoses? What was it this Queen, assuming that's the ghost he was hunting, could do to them? Or, couldn't do to them?

Jazz shook her head as if trying to shake the thoughts out of her brain.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, "I'm not doing this ghost stuff anymore. So, why do I care?"

She began to stomp up the stairs.

"Still," she stopped, "I don't remember anything in Mom's notes about a Queen of the Forest. Maybe..."

Jazz thought for another minute. Since she was about to give up ghosts for good, she didn't see the need to go research about this Queen. But if the Queen decided to attack, it would be nice to have some information about her. But, Mom didn't have any info on her. Mom's friend, however...

Jazz heaved a long sigh. Oh, well. Looks like it would be just a few more days before she could retire from all things ghosts.