Unfortunately, not even the best of things could last forever.

The day soon wore on into the night, and by then I was back in my own house, chanting the same couplet once more as I waved my hands over my crystal ball.

Spirits of the damned, I command thee, arise
And tell me what you know and saw with your eyes.

There probably wouldn't be much for them to say this time, but I still needed to confirm a few more things with them. With that, the ghostly figures of Drew, Rachael, Peter, Evelyn, and James all rose into the air, their expressions this time blank and completely void of emotion.

"That was...rather interesting," Rachael remarked in a slight undertone. "Didn't know the town would be this bitter against you."

To this, I shrugged. This was one reason I never won as the medium. Well, only on rare occasions I have. Otherwise, the town had been serious idiots. "Yeah, well. Things happen, and sometimes you end up being swayed long enough to be convinced of the wrong thing. Or at least that's the hope. One day they would be convinced that I'm not what they think I should have been."

"I suppose you have some explaining to do, Peter?" James fired then, glaring at the dead Jester while folding his arms in indignation. "Why would you be so suspicious of her?"

"As if you'd ask me," Peter responded airily, facing James with a glower. "You don't even know her, so I wouldn't even talk if I were you."

"Oh shut up. I'd still trust her if I did," James muttered bitterly. Then he turned back to me. "Anyway-you're the medium, right? Brianne? Um. I visited Sam the night I was killed. Turned out he had his booby traps up and running. For a drunk guy, he was actually quite sharp."

"Wait. Sam's the veteran?" I repeated, a little appalled to hear this. Sam. Veteran. Sam the Veteran. The words just couldn't seem to ring sensibly in my mind.

James nodded. "Yeah. So I'd be careful if I were you. Just don't tread too far along his path, and you'd be fine. Besides that, I'm wondering whether he actually managed to sober up enough to have put up the trap. No hard feelings against him, honestly."

"Of course." I gave James a small smile then and turned back to the rest of them. Peter, at this moment, was arguing with Evelyn on who he should haunt for the night.

"No. I don't want you going after Alana! She still could be beneficial for the town if she said she truly was the Investigator," Evelyn was saying then.

Peter, on the other hand, looked a little miffed. "I don't know, Evelyn. Something about her seemed a little off. Besides, how could she have known that you were the amnesiac? She kind of sounded as if that was a fact. And she could have made up the other options on the spot."

"Typically that's what comes up for the investigator," I told Peter then. "For someone like Evelyn, the options would be amnesiac, forger, or vampire. Alana's right."

"Still, something seemed rather off about it. And I don't know whether it's just me or something, but I don't trust her. I'm siding with the town." Peter eventually sighed, an icy breath rolling out of his mouth almost freezing my face plunging my skin into negative temperatures. "Alright. I'm going for Alana. She most likely might be the Consigliere, not the Investigator. Or even witch, for that matter." He nodded solemnly, once, before leaving the group. "I'll be right back."

And before anyone could stop him, he was off to Alana's house.

"Figured," Evelyn muttered, clucking her tongue. "Though then again, completely unexpected. Did anyone expect to see the Jester hung on the second night? Normally they'd be hung near the end of the game."

"Honestly? Anyone could have seen it coming, town included," Drew responded. "I mean, sure, Peter was the one who read my will, and it was sweet and all. But he did seem a little cuckoo in the head trying to get the town to lynch Brianne."

To that, I snorted. "I'd suppose anyone would do anything to lynch the ones they just couldn't trust. Then again, come to think of it, Peter might be making the right choice after all."

A sudden breeze blew through the open window and doorway of my house just then, and I instantly jumped, shivering slightly. When did the air suddenly drop to negative temperatures in the middle of summer? In an environment like this, something just didn't seem normal. Suddenly, I felt the urge to change into another dress before the exposure of my wound got the better of me, and gave the killers an advantage to attack again. I grabbed another dress from the rack-a dark blue one with ruffles on the sleeves and collar-before running to the bathroom and changing quickly.

"Brianne?" Evelyn called. Then I heard her sigh. "Well, you can't blame her. The Mafia did try to kill her last night."

"Sometimes I really think that this town is super dense," James murmured. "Would they really think that the eight-year-old little girl was telling the truth? She seems a little too young and naive."

"Then again, that's the point. Any child would do anything to make their parents believe their lies at times. And then we have the older people-the more rational people, sensible enough to tell the truth-and no one listens to them."

"I'd consider it a problem. The older we get, the less believable we are."

Eventually, I emerged from the bathroom to see Peter having rejoined the group and the other ghosts talking in low voices. "So, I suppose the deed is done?" I asked Peter, sitting back down at my desk smoothing my dress.

Peter nodded. "I've haunted Alana. Her spirit would join us tomorrow in the grave."

"Alright then." I nodded at Peter and glanced at the other ghosts, removing my bonnet with a slight sigh. "Here's to hoping that we've haunted the right person."

To my utter surprise as I exited the house the next morning, three bodies were littered on the ground, flung uselessly against the gravel paths outside their houses. First, I recognized the broken glasses lying right next to Klaus' body, a puddle of blood pooling beneath his sweater and jeans. It wasn't hard to notice the dark blue ribbon tied around his wrist. The second body belonged to Alana, her body as pale as the platinum blonde hair on her head tied in a high ponytail in a pink ribbon that I knew Peter must have tied. Then the final body made my throat constrict, and I almost stopped breathing. A body lying limply right next to me, his dark brown hair strewn with blood, a scarlet ribbon tied onto his wrist and his eyes closed, completely void of life itself...

And just as the rooster crowed, I screamed his name.

"JUSTIN!"