As I had promised to Marjorie, I returned to the library after my visit in the rehab centre. My original intention had been to place the manuscript back where it belonged before Conny would find out it was missing. But by now, I knew it wasn't so easy, not if I wanted to help Luca.

It was already dark, and a drizzle set in while I walked from the station back to my workplace. I pulled the hood of my parka over my curls, shivering in a sudden gust. For a moment, I was close to give in to the temptation to return home, but the manuscript weighed heavy in my backpack. If I wanted to sleep tonight, I needed to get this done despite the hardening rain.

Amidst a downpour, I reached the library, glad to switch the damp chill of the night with the cozy warmth inside. Late on a Saturday evening, the place was quiet and dark, a stark contrast to the friendly premises I was used to. The door clicked into the lock behind me and I listened to the chime, its sound forlorn and louder than I had in mind.

Through the tall windows, the streetlights filtered into the room, the head- and taillights of the cars dancing over the shelves and the ceiling. I stood on the doormat until the last note of the chime faded away before I took off my soggy parka and hung it to dry by the entrance. Since I didn't want to attract suspicion, I resisted the urge to turn on the lights and crossed the reception area in the spooky half light, surprised to hear the floorboards creaking under my steps. I had never realised they made a sound before.

In the office, I turned on the light and closed the door. In here, everything seemed normal, ordered, and the familiar smell of printer ink and coffee embraced me. With a relieved sigh, I dug the manuscript from my backpack, removed the envelope, and placed the now slightly crumpled sheets in Conny's desk. With a last indecisive glance, I shut the drawer, ready to brave the weather outside on my way home.

The library was extra dark after the well-lit office, but I didn't turn on the lights. The last thing I needed was the police turning up and accusing me of burgling my workplace—after all, I had returned something and not stolen it.

I was almost at the door and glad to leave the eerie premises when a sudden blue glow flashed up behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at the window, thinking of a patrol car or an ambulance. Instead, I stared straight into a pair of shiny blue eyes as the hero of Conny's story manifested beside me in a pronounced ghostly glow. I jumped aside and pressed a hand to my heaving chest.

"Luca, I told you I'll suffer a heart attack if you keep doing that." In the dark library, his glowing form was striking, but more frightening than ever.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, but it is a kind of hard to approach without surprising you if you cannot hear my steps."

"True, but you could—well, whistle perhaps?" Probably this would frighten me even more, though. "Or just greet me before you pop up? Anyway, how can I help you?"

"Cat told me you found my story?"

I took a deep breath and looked into his amazing blue eyes, now filled with apprehension. "Yes, and I even wanted to tell you about it this morning, but we were interrupted, and I had to leave to catch my train at noon. Just as Cat suspected, the story remained unfinished. I'm sorry."

His shoulders slumped as he stared at the floor. "So, you also believe it means I will be caught forever in this stage of in-between?"

"As you know, I'm not an expert on otherworldly things. Cat seemed convinced that you are bound to this place by the unfinished manuscript, though, and Marjorie confirmed this might be the case."

"You talked to Marjorie?"

"I payed her a visit this afternoon, since I thought it might be the moment to run some research. Also, she was the best source of information that came to mind."

He ran a hand over his eyes and walked a few steps up and down. "Thanks for caring, Lynn. I appreciate it very much. Did Marjorie suggest any solutions?"

"Aside from the obvious thing, no."

This made him stop and turn, giving me his full attention. "And what would be the obvious thing?"

I shrugged. "Convincing the author to finish their work, of course. Which both Marjorie and I believe is rather unlikely in your case. Aside from this, she hadn't much to add about the topic. I think she lacks the experience with similar situations, so it's up to us to find a way out of this mess for you."

Luca took up his pacing again. "What about destroying the story? Did Marjorie know if this might work? Would you do it for me?"

I gazed at him in shock. "We didn't talk about destroying the manuscript, and what's more important, I couldn't. That story isn't mine in the first place, and I already feel bad for nicking it. Besides, how can you be sure you wouldn't disappear for good together with the only copy of your story?" I didn't mention I couldn't know if other copies existed somewhere, but I suspected Conny kept a version on her hard drive.

A deep frown formed on Luca's luminescent forehead.

"You're right, simple destruction might be risky. But then, I might get killed in the story, anyway."

"I doubt this. And if you would, this shouldn't affect your existence here, I think. Anyway, from what I've seen, yours is a happy and even funny tale. Your death would be unfitting." Too late, I remembered I had planned to avoid mentioning that I had read the story.

Luca's eyes lit up, and Cat appeared on the front desk in a blue flash. "Ha, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to read it. So, spoil the beans, young lady, and tell us what it is about."

"You won't let me off the hook, will you?" I threw my hands up in exaggerated desperation. "It's the story of a young man trying to fit into today's hectic world of job demands and peer pressure and searching an adequate place for himself. I find it quite funny and like it, but it stops somewhere in the middle without a hint on how it will end."

Luca scuffed the floor with one of his trainers. They were the same light blue as the protagonist's favourite pair in the story, the ones the kitten liked to chew on.

"So, you're sure there is not just a single chapter missing, but half of the story?"

I shrugged, doubting it mattered how large the missing fragment of the story was.

Cat scrunched his nose, confirming my suspicion. "It doesn't change a thing if we can't get Conny to sit down and write the rest of the story."

Luca frowned while he glanced from Cat to me. "Your colleague with the sad eyes is the author?"

"I guess, and Marjorie confirmed Conny was writing on a story several years ago. Marjorie never got to read it, though, and doesn't know what it was about. It was before Conny's husband was diagnosed with blood cancer, and she gave up writing once he fell ill. We suspect that she never found the time or motivation to finish her work after his death."

"Tragic circumstances." Cat paced up and down on the desk, his tail erect and twitching. "Alas, there is only one solution—you must motivate her to write again."

A typical Cat solution—call in Lynn to solve the problem. A deep sigh escaped my lips. "I'm willing to try, but I doubt Conny will appreciate my intervention." Even matchmaking seemed easy in comparison.

"If she found new love—"

"Stop it, Cat," I interrupted him. "She might or might not change her mind if she falls in love again. But what if she decides writing a different story would be neat? And what if she doesn't finish it, either? I studied modern literature and know for a fact that Luca's isn't the only unfinished manuscript lying around. Most established writers admit having the odd half-finished draft lying around somewhere. Do we really want to risk another protagonist getting stranded in a desolate place?"

The sad look in Luca's eyes pierced my heart, but I didn't have a solution. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get dramatic. But we cannot solve this problem tonight, and we won't get anywhere without Conny's consent." I rubbed some grit from the corner of my eye. "Besides, I should get some dinner and sleep after this exhausting week."

Luca nodded, a reluctant gesture, and he avoided my glance.

I felt bad for him, but I didn't want to build up false hopes, either. "Please, understand that I try to help, but I'm not a magician, and Conny might not feel up to write anything."

"It's alright, Lynn." He reached out a hand but stopped centimetres before he touched my arm. "Your support and honesty means a lot—at least you helped me understand what my problem is."

"Right," Cat chimed in, "and to locate the problem is the first step on the road to its solution, as I like to say. Go home, Lynn, and enjoy your day off. See you on Monday."

"Thanks for understanding, boys. I promise I'll talk to Conny next Monday and see if I can do something about the manuscript. Please keep a wary eye on the library for me in the meantime, not that some pesky ghosts sneak in."

Cat squinted his eyes and showed me his pointy teeth. "Careful, my dear, don't call me pesky or I might show you what it means."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you, my dearest Cat. How could I?" I slipped into my still damp parka and shouldered my backpack. "Good night, have fun."

Luca lifted his hand. "Good night, Lynn, and thanks again."

"Thank me when I succeed with Conny—according to Amber, talking to her can be like running into a brick wall."

"I'm sure that's exaggerated." Cat liked a paw. "Didn't I overhear you suggest hard hats for the visitors today? Perhaps you should use one for your talk with Conny."

"Great idea. Under the circumstances, she might think I'm mad as a hatter. Do you want me to try scaring her into writing by growling and showing her my teeth?"

Before the door close behind me, I saw Cat's broadest grin. And was that the hint of a dimple on Luca's face?