Chapter 6: Broke Ghost, Divine Promotion

I tried not to take it personally. Old habits die hard in law enforcement.

I saw the left side were Chicago cops I knew. The right side was the Milwaukee team, all looking grim.

They looked like they hadn’t slept in weeks. I felt for them.

“Hi, everyone. I’m Grace. I can talk to the dead and know a bit of the occult. I’m here to help, and if I don’t know something, I won’t make stuff up!”

I flashed my best smile, hoping to win them over.

After my little speech, the Milwaukee officers relaxed a bit.

One cracked a smile, another nodded slightly.

“Grace really can help—she’s cracked some big cases.”

“She found the suspect in the April 18th kidnapping.”

“She’s never charged us, just wants to help.”

The Chicago officers vouched for me, and I smiled at them.

It felt good to have allies in the room.

“All right, you can sit in, just don’t interrupt,” said Detective Ruiz.

He sounded gruff, but I could tell he was warming up to me.

I grabbed a chair and read the case files.

The folder was thick—photos, timelines, maps. It was heavy stuff.

This was a nasty kidnapping and murder case, spanning two cities. The perp hit both Chicago and Milwaukee, and always targeted kids—four or five at a time, the latest case had seven victims.

The scale of it made my stomach twist. This was no ordinary criminal.

The presenting detective’s eyes went red as he spoke. The room went quiet.

Everyone listened in silence, the air heavy with grief and determination.

I swore to myself I’d catch the monster.

I clenched my fists under the table, promising those kids I’d see this through.

Afterward, I gathered my five little ghosts and told them today’s stream was canceled for urgent business.

They nodded, looking serious for once. Even ghosts know when it’s time to get to work.

We checked the victims’ files—clear up to the day of the crime, then blank. Their fates in the Book of Karma were erased.

Page after page, nothing. It was like someone had hit delete on their lives.

For the first time, I was stumped. Who could erase so many records?

Not even the Devil had that kind of authority. This was big.

“Grace, why do these kids’ stories sound like ours?” Little Two asked.

My heart skipped a beat. I looked at them, then back at the files. The pieces started to fit together.

My eyes lit up. Of course—the basement where I lived was probably the perp’s first crime scene!

And the five little ghosts were the first victims.

I felt sick. My friends had suffered at the hands of this monster.

I reported this to Captain Anderson.

He listened, jaw tight, and promised to dig into the old records.

Investigation showed that three years ago, there’d been a horrific case in that basement. Five kids, abused by their foster father, turned on the gas and ended their lives.

The details were even worse than I’d imagined. I hugged my little ghosts, promising justice.

The man, who called himself their foster dad, hadn’t legally adopted them, just snatched abandoned babies from hospitals. He only wanted to hurt them.

I was furious. My five little ghost friends had suffered so much. I wanted to send that monster straight to hell.

I clenched my fists, shaking with rage. He’d pay for what he’d done.

With his identity nailed down, the police quickly found his location.

They moved fast—no one wanted to give him another chance to hurt anyone.

But how were the records erased?

That was the real mystery. It had to be something supernatural.

I reported to the Devil, and went with the police to the scene to see what kind of monster we were dealing with.

The Devil gave me his blessing—"Don’t come back until it’s solved," he said.

The guy was holed up on a farm outside the city.

The drive out was tense. I could feel the evil radiating from miles away.

To prevent more victims, we rushed over.

The SWAT van screeched to a halt, and we piled out, hearts pounding.

As soon as I entered, I felt something wrong—a weird energy in the air.

It was thick and oily, like the air before a tornado.

I crept downstairs. There were cells like a prison, the air thick with blood.

Chains on the walls, scratch marks on the floor. It was a nightmare made real.

The team leader signaled us to stop. We held our breath.

Every creak sounded like a gunshot. I counted the seconds in my head.

From the end room came a man’s creepy laugh, hoarse and inhuman.

It sent chills down my spine. Even the cops looked shaken.

With a nod, we charged in.

Boots thundered down the hall. The door burst open.

Bang!

A shot rang out. The bullet hit the guy’s hand. The axe he’d been holding fell.

He howled in pain, clutching his bleeding hand. The axe clattered to the floor.

In the corner, a girl shielded the others, trembling but brave.

She was just a kid, but she stood tall, protecting her friends.

“It’s okay, I’ll protect you…”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough. The other kids clung to her, hope shining in their eyes.

The police wrapped the kids in blankets, comforting them. The girl, barely twelve, burst into tears, finally letting her fear out.

The officers held her, telling her she was safe now. I wiped away a tear myself.

The monster was surrounded, wounded, weaponless.

He looked at us, eyes wild, lips twisted in a sneer.

But his face twisted—fear, then hate, then a sick satisfaction.

He started chanting, voice low and guttural.

He dipped his finger in his blood and scrawled on his forehead, muttering in some strange language.

The air grew colder, the lights flickered. I felt something ancient and evil stirring.

That weird feeling grew, making my skin crawl.

My hair stood on end. This was no ordinary psycho.

Suddenly, the man vanished in front of us!

One second he was there, the next—gone. The room went dead silent.

Dust rained from the ceiling, the house shook, about to collapse!

Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls. The cops hustled the kids out, yelling for everyone to run.

The police rushed the kids out. I slipped into ghost mode and zipped through the ceiling.

I left my body behind, floating up just in time to avoid a falling beam.

Just as I landed, I saw the monster running outside, clutching something.

He moved fast, almost inhumanly so, clutching a statue to his chest.

It was a statue—not a normal one. It looked like the Virgin Mary, but her eyes were sly, her smile mocking.

The face was twisted, the eyes too sharp. It radiated malice.

I realized some evil spirit had possessed the statue.

This was no ordinary haunting. This was a turf war between gods. Because why not?

Blasphemy!

I felt anger boil inside me. Using a holy image for evil—unforgivable.

“What are you? Why are you hiding in that statue, helping a monster?”

The statue’s eyes seemed to flicker. The air shimmered with unspoken words.

It babbled in a language I didn’t know.

The words were harsh, guttural—nothing I’d ever heard before.

I pulled out my phone and opened Google Translate. Of course it’s a demon. Because why not?

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I typed in the sounds as best I could.

Turns out it was a Thai demon.

The translation was rough, but clear enough. This thing wasn’t from around here.

That weird energy wasn’t local—so it wasn’t in our Book of Karma.

It made sense now—our records couldn’t touch it. It was a loophole, a gap in the system.

The afterlife, like the world, is divided by territory. Spirits and gods can’t just wander into other domains.

There are rules, even among the dead. Borders matter, apparently.

But some sneak in—raising little ghosts, for example. If caught, they’re thrown into the deepest pit.

I’d heard stories—smugglers, spirit traffickers. This one was bold, reckless.

But this one was worse. Not only did it sneak in, it possessed another god’s statue—no respect at all!

That was a whole new level of disrespect. Even the Devil would be offended.

Sadly, I was just a broke ghost—no match for a foreign demon. I could only watch the monster escape.

I tried to chase, but the demon’s power was too strong. I felt helpless, but I wouldn’t give up.

But the afterlife wouldn’t let it go.

I made a note to call in every favor I’d ever earned. No way was I letting this slide.

Three days later, the Grim Reapers delivered the monster, tied up, to the police.

They showed up at the precinct, dragging him by the collar. The look on the Captain’s face was priceless.

I asked the Devil what would happen to the demon. He said it was a Thai evil god. But these days, we had to handle it through official channels—punish the demon, warn the other side to keep their spirits in line.

The afterlife was getting more and more organized.

There was paperwork, meetings, even cross-realm memos. I almost missed the old chaos.

The case was all over the news for days.

Reporters camped outside the station, and my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I kept my head down and focused on my work.

On the day of the trial, I asked Sister White to use her magic to bring the five little ghosts to watch.

She agreed, and the ghosts sat in the gallery, holding hands, faces solemn.

The monster was convicted, the demon caught, and my friends’ memories slowly returned.

They remembered everything—the good, the bad, the unbearable. I hugged them tight.

Seeing them so gloomy broke my heart.

I wished I could erase their pain, but all I could do was be there for them.

Luckily, the monster was so evil he got the death penalty. When the verdict came down, my friends finally looked relieved.

They smiled for the first time, their eyes shining with hope.

“Death isn’t his last stop. He’ll go straight to the deepest pit, and you can come with me to watch the trial.”

I promised them justice, and I meant it. We’d see it through together.

They finally relaxed, blinking up at me, and my heart melted.

I ruffled their hair, fighting back tears. They’d been through so much.

“Now that your memories are back and your anger’s gone, I can help you move on. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe and happy in your next life.”

They nodded, but clung to me a little longer, not quite ready to say goodbye.

But the little ghosts clung to my skirt, wanting to stay and help, waiting to move on with me.

I let them be. More karma was always good.

We made a deal—they’d help me help others, and when the time came, we’d move on together.

After a busy week, I was lying at home when Captain Anderson called.

He sounded excited, which was never a good sign for my schedule.

He said I was famous.

I grinned, thinking of my growing follower count. Fame wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

I knew—I had a million followers now.

My phone barely survived the notifications. I had to charge it twice a day.

“Not that kind of famous. You’re famous in law enforcement! The higher-ups want to meet you.”

He sounded almost proud, like I was his kid heading off to college.

I was officially appointed as a consultant, working from home, full benefits, the works.

I got a badge, an official email, and even health insurance. Not bad for a broke ghost.

After a couple days’ rest, I streamed again.

I took a deep breath, hit "Go Live," and braced myself.

Viewers flooded in, almost crashing TikTok.

The comments scrolled so fast I could barely read them:

[Grace is back!]

[Grandma, your favorite streamer’s on!]

[You heartless thing, you remembered us!]

[I waited so long my hair turned white—you owe me, streamer!]

[Grace must have been helping with a case. Let me check the official Twitter.]

“Hey everyone, long time no see! From now on, no more fortune-telling, just chatting and Q&A. If you’re in trouble, come to me—I’ll help if I can, for free. Now that I’m on the payroll, serving the people is my job.”

I flashed my badge for the camera, grinning. It felt good to finally give back without worrying about rent.

That’s right—if I get paid, I should help folks and keep up the organization’s image.

I even practiced my "public servant" smile in the mirror. It needed work.

Plus, good deeds make my penny heavier.

I could almost feel the weight growing with every case I solved.

[??? How did you go from psychic streamer to public servant in a few days?]

[What the…? Woke up too fast, going back to bed.]

[Guys, it’s official—here’s the screenshot. My family is shook.]

[Grace! So proud!!]

[The end of the universe really is a government job. I’m off to study.]

The memes were relentless. I saved a few for my scrapbook.

My schedule got packed. Besides major cases, I helped with missing persons, busted fraud rings, and tracked lost art around the world.

I needed a new planner just to keep up. My calendar was color-coded and everything.

Through Captain Anderson, the Feds asked me to help find a fallen undercover officer.

The request came in at midnight. I didn’t hesitate.

He’d gone deep in a cartel, was killed just before he could deliver the evidence.

The case was a mess—layers of lies, betrayal, and heartbreak.

I found his soul wandering the edge of the afterlife.

He looked lost, weighed down by regret. I sat with him, listening to his story.

Because of his regrets, he wouldn’t move on.

He clung to the past, afraid to let go. I promised him I’d finish what he started.

He told me where he’d hidden the key evidence.

It was buried under a loose floorboard in a motel outside Gary. Classic.

With that, the operation was a success.

The bust made headlines, and the cartel fell apart. Justice, at last.

I went back to tell him, and he saluted before crossing over.

He smiled, thanked me, and faded into the light. I wiped away a tear, proud to have helped.

I felt more alive than ever.

Funny, right? The dead helping the living, and the living helping the dead. It’s a cycle.

One day, I looked in the mirror. I wore a white dress, my features were gentle, and I even glowed faintly gold—not ghostly at all.

I spun in front of the mirror, half expecting wings to sprout. I looked… radiant. Weird, but nice.

Was this what it meant to be nourished by a harmonious society? I was stunned.

I pinched my cheek, just to be sure. Yep, still me—just shinier.

I checked my penny’s weight every day—finally, it was just a fraction short of two pounds.

I danced around my room, nearly dropping the scale. So close, I could taste it.

Excited, I ran to the afterlife to ask the Devil if I could move on.

I burst into his office, waving my penny and grinning like a fool.

He dodged, jumping back three feet.

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

He said I couldn’t reincarnate anymore.

I stared at him, jaw dropping. "What do you mean, I can’t? I did everything!"

I burst into tears.

I sobbed so hard, even the Reapers peeked in to see what was going on.

Was all my work for nothing?

I flopped onto his couch, wailing. Three hundred years and this was my reward?

“Kid, you’re glowing gold. You don’t need to reincarnate—you’re about to become a minor deity!”

I sat up, blinking through my tears. "A what now?"

I was stunned.

For once, I was speechless. Me—a goddess? Never saw that coming.

Extra

I was planning to move on, but with so much karma, I got promoted straight to minor goddess.

No application, no interview—just a sudden cosmic promotion. I guess hard work really does pay off.

I am the brokest ghost in a thousand years, and the first to ascend straight from the afterlife.

They should put that on my tombstone. "Here lies Grace: broke, but unstoppable."

When I checked in at the Heavenly Office, all my friends from the afterlife surrounded me, loading me up with snacks and advice.

They fussed over me, pinning little good luck charms to my dress, shoving pastries and soda into my hands.

They said I was their pride, and to do them proud up there.

They hugged me, some crying, others laughing. It was like graduation day, only with more ghosts.

They sent me off in tears, but half an hour later, I was back at the afterlife’s gate.

Turns out, bureaucracy is the same everywhere. I forgot my ID badge and had to come back for it. Figures.

Because I was so familiar with the afterlife’s business, I was appointed as the afterlife liaison, so I came back.

Apparently, my "unique skill set" made me the perfect candidate for the job. Go figure.

The Devil looked at me funny. The broke ghost he’d disliked for three hundred years was suddenly his boss. It took some getting used to.

He tried to hide it, but I saw the panic in his eyes. I just grinned.

I thought for a second, patted his shoulder, and said:

“From now on, we’re teammates! Let’s work hard for the afterlife together!”

He groaned, but I saw the hint of a smile. I guess even the Devil can get used to change.