Sweet home Chicago. The people here were my family. They were in danger, and I was part of the reason why. That made things pretty clear. It didn’t matter that I was dead. It didn’t matter that I was literally a shadow of my former self. It didn’t matter that my murderer was still running around somewhere out there, vague prophecies of Captain Murphy notwithstanding. My job hadn’t changed: When demons and horrors and creatures of the night prey on this city, I’m the guy who does something about it. “Time to start doing,” I whispered.
