Opening night I was strolling Stoker Street when the corner of my eye snagged an ageless young man wolfing chocolates. He disappeared around Whedon Bend, then spoke from behind me.
"You don't look dead."
"I get that a lot."
"Jane said you need help."
"Too true."
"Come on."
"To where?"
"'Restless in Peace.' Undead therapy."
My jaw dropped.