《Oathbound》


 Chapter One: Cornered

    ¡°I am not a man you want to trifle with, Albert.¡±


    He was short. Maybe five foot ten inches. Albert had a level view of his face. The puggish nose that looked like it had taken one too many punches, the beady eyes that stared blackly into Albert¡¯s, the almost reflective bald head, the yellowed teeth that looked like he had been smoking for his whole life, the pale powdery skin almost entirely devoid of hair. The only hair on his body might have been his eyebrows.


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure why this man he had to tilt his head down to look in the eye was so terrifying. There was no indication why his almost raspy low voice sent chills down Albert¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Really?¡± Albert¡¯s voice was shaky. Normally he wouldn¡¯t have noticed. Normally a slight stutter to his words flew right under the radar. But it was clear that he couldn¡¯t not be afraid of this man. ¡°Who are you then? Why did you kill those people.¡±


    ¡°A hint, perhaps?¡± The man fasted his black bowler hat back on top of his head. It completed the all black ensemble; suit coat, vest, shirt, tie, slacks, shoes, socks too probably¡ªall black. ¡°I am no respecter of men, or health. I come for those poor and I come for the man with wealth. I ride on rats and poisoned breath. Who am I?¡±


    A riddle? Was he a supervillain? It rhymed though. Of course it did.


    Albert knew the answer the man meant, but rather than answer, sprang from the top of the apartment building stoop, over the railing and towards the trashcans below. It wasn¡¯t the softest landing in the world, but it was better than falling face first into a concrete sidewalk again.


    ¡°Albert. Boy. I take it you figured out the answer to my little riddle.¡±


    The man was standing above Albert this time. Looming over the dumpster he¡¯d landed in. Albert hadn¡¯t thought he had gone unconscious, but there was no other explanation for how the man had gotten in front of him so quickly.


    ¡°The answer to all your questions¡­ is that I am Death.¡±


    The the yellow teeth faded in detail as he spoke. They were overcome by a new disturbing feature. A black smoke dripping from his mouth like a putrid fog.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be taller!¡± Albert grunted out as he swung his fist at the man¡¯s face.


    It was a desperate attempt. Albert was not known for his physical prowess. He¡¯d gotten in fight in his entire life, and it was only a technicality. In fourth grade, he¡¯d been pushed into the middle of a circle that was forming around two other kids fighting and taken an elbow to the face. He had been in the fight, but as a casualty.


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    To his surprise, and the surprise of Death, the punch landed. Albert regretted it immediately though, his hand was now throbbing in pain. Much like the rest of his body had been earlier when Death had chased him back to his apartment stoop. Now his fist hurt twice as much as the rest of his body. Death didn¡¯t seem physically hurt at all, but he did look surprised. Or maybe he was impressed. There was a strange smile on his face, sort of a half twist up at the edges but a flat line in the middle. Maybe it was a mix of anger and pride? Pride for what, though, Albert had no clue.


    ¡°I thought you would be a little more dead. Yet here we are.¡± Death grabbed Albert by the collar of his shirt and lifted him out of the dumpster.


    It was an awkward hold. Death was shorter and Albert¡¯s feet were dragging on the ground. It would have looked silly to anyone watching, but the two were obscured just below street level and behind a conveniently placed holly bush. Death¡¯s grip was firm, like iron. Albert had to hold on to his wrist with both hands to keep himself from choking on his own collar. He didn¡¯t have enough space to stand up all the way with Death¡¯s arm there, it was so firmly planted it didn¡¯t even budge as Albert strained against it.


    ¡°So what now?¡± Albert huffed, still struggling against the hold. ¡°You take me to the afterlife?¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to take your soul?¡± Death raised one of his pencil thin eyebrows. It was an almost hopeful display.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well then, we seem to have reached an impasse,¡± Death sighed. His voice was becoming more a low hiss. All of his words very particularly punctuated. ¡°I want your soul. You oppose my desires. I refuse to let you wander the world as an errant soul to waste away without being useful. You seem intent to do just that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Albert was slowing down now. The fear, the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body up until this moment was fading.


    ¡°You want to be useful, do you not?¡±


    Albert was speechless. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. He was utterly lost in what was happening to him.


    ¡°Forgive me. I seem to have forgotten your age. Here I am, asking you what you want out of life,¡± Death let out a low raspy laugh ¡°and there you are, a teenage boy. You don¡¯t have a clue, do you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡± Albert had begun to catch on. There was something strange going on with this man. He had inhuman strength, he was fast, he had oozed black smoke from his mouth¡­ he called himself Death. Maybe he is Death. Albert thought to himself.


    But it seems like he needs permission to kill me. Or something?


    ¡°No one does. That does not mean that your life would be worth living, or that I should give it back to you.¡±


    ¡°So, what? We just stand here forever? You try and convince me I should let you kill me and I say no?¡±


    ¡°We could do that. But I am a busy man. People die every second.¡±


    ¡°Then you could let me go and chase someone that doesn¡¯t mind dying.¡± Albert was smiling faintly now. Not confidently, more of a fear smile¡ªas one does when they are in this sort of situation.


    ¡°I could do that.¡± Death frowned, jaw clenched. His beady eyes fixed on Albert¡¯s again. ¡°But you frustrate me.¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest then? You beat me within an inch of my life for your troubles and then leave?¡±


    ¡°Tempting as that may be, there is an alternative. Allow me to convince you that I am right, and you are wrong.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to¡­¡±


    Death held up his free hand, and with a snap of his fingers the world went dark around Albert.

 Chapter Two: Arbitration (part 1)

    ¡°Let us begin arbitration.¡± Death¡¯s voice preceded his appearance. More aptly, the appearance of the room that Albert now found himself in.


    Death was seated at a table in the middle of a dimly lit room. The floor was a patchwork of wooden planks, the walls were covered in peeling floral print wallpaper, the ceiling¡­ didn¡¯t exist. It appeared as though there was some form of dark black cloud occluding the ceiling, but not the single grimy light bulb hanging from a wire that provided the glow that illuminated the room.


    In front of Death was a grand, but heavily aged, desk made out of dark wood. There was nothing on the desk apart from dust and Death¡¯s hands. He was seated casually in a simple chair, the sort that are typically in public buildings and the waiting area of cheap businesses, with his palms down on the desk.


    ¡°Take a seat. Place your hands on the table and we can begin.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t actually sorry, but he couldn¡¯t help using the familiar phrase out of shock.


    ¡°Arbitration. You speak your case, I speak mine. We agree on a mutually beneficial outcome¡­ or perhaps one not so mutually beneficial, and then we carry on. If we disagree, we either get over our differences or you fade into nothingness as your limited time remaining in the physical world passes.¡±


    ¡°What the h¡­¡±


    ¡°Hands on the table, Albert.¡± Death interrupted. ¡°It will keep us both honest.¡±


    Albert paused and gave the man across the table a skeptical look. Slowly, intuiting that no other information would be given until he complied, Albert took a seat in an equally modest looking chair and placed his hands down on the wooden surface of the desk in the same manner as Death.


    ¡°Now, state your case.¡± Death gave a casual nod towards Albert.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Death nodded him on, prompting, ¡°don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°I want your soul and all that comes with it.¡±


    ¡°Now what?¡±


    ¡°Albert, arbitration does not stop there. Please, I do not want to regret putting forth so much effort for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only seventeen. I¡¯m too young do die.¡±


    Death eyed the desk, mildly confused; though, Albert couldn¡¯t quite see why.


    ¡°Regardless of whether or not you want to die, your body has been killed.¡±


    ¡°I walked down a street and got pushed into the ground. How am I dead? Dead is dead. I¡¯m not dead.¡±


    ¡°Your body is dead. Your being¡­ your soul, your spirit, is dying¡ªfading from existence. If your spirit dies, you cease to exist and I get nothing.¡±


    ¡°And you want my soul. Then, tell me why I should give it to you.¡±


    ¡°I can use it better than you, and I can use the rest of what comes with it better than you.¡±


    ¡°Explain that.¡±


    ¡°Explain what? If you speak vaguely, I can talk around you.¡±


    Death¡¯s upfront approach was confusing to Albert. Either he was smarter, or at least smart enough to know what to say, or he knew something Albert didn¡¯t.


    ¡°What¡¯s, the rest? What else is there for you, specifically, other than my soul?¡±


    Death paused. His hands twitched for a moment, as though unsure of whether to remain in place or move somewhere else. To Albert, it looked like Death was resisting the urge to fidget or carry out some nervous tick. After a moment of silence Death pressed his hands firmly back down onto the desk.


    ¡°There are things beyond the soul which you possess that I would like from you. Exactly what, I cannot be sure. But I know that there is, what is the most succinct word¡­ property, I suppose you could say, indelibly attached to your soul.¡±


    Albert thought for a moment. None of what Death had said was making any sense. So much information was being thrust upon him all at once, and he wasn¡¯t about to trust some stranger. Even if that stranger was inhumanly strong, seemed to be able to move faster than the eye could see, and had trapped him in an impossible space as if by magic. Those last few things in particular were bothering Albert.


    ¡°How¡¯m I supposed to trust that?¡± Albert pushed back against the table and held his hands up in confusion. Death remained calm. ¡°That¡¯s not the way the world works. That¡¯s¡­ are you kidding me with this soul crap? Telling me I¡¯m dead? Is that supposed to be some kind of scam method? Am I going to wake up in an alleyway missing my kidneys or something? I mean, come on! You can¡¯t expect me to believe any of this, can you?¡±


    ¡°Sit down, Albert.¡± Death was smiling. Not a cruel or intelligent smile, but the sort of smile that someone about to deliver a clever joke has. It was the strange combination of that smile and his whole appearance that compelled Albert to at least pause.


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    ¡°Sit down, put your hands on the table, and try to lie to me.¡±


    Albert glared, but complied; the chair offering a small squeak of protest as it was scraped across the well worn wooden floor. Albert locked eyes with Death and placed his hands down in the same place they had been before. The wood was still warm.


    ¡°I love¡­¡± Albert gagged, paused, and gagged again as he had tried to push the words out of his mouth. ¡°Why can¡¯t I say that I love mushrooms?¡±


    ¡°As a food or as a form of life?¡±


    ¡°No. What? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°You have voluntarily placed your hands on the table. You cannot lie while you continue to offer the truth here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not offering the¡­¡± Albert was cut off again by an unseen force.


    ¡°This is a sort of implied agreement. By placing your hands on the table, you agree to offer only the truth.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°When I put my hands on the table, I agree to the same things.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t prove that though, can you.¡±


    ¡°A clever comment. You acknowledge that, while I could attempt to lie as you have done, you would be unable to determine how genuine I am. Even if I stuttered quite convincingly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I¡¯ll have to trust you on that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Trust is integral to the agreement here. I trust you to be honest with me, truly, and I would hope you trust me similarly.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Albert paused. He had an idea formulating in his mind, but wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it would work or even matter. But if he could use Death¡¯s eagerness to prove his honesty to his advantage, he could ask questions that would help him both make sense of the situation and maybe turn it to his advantage.


    ¡°Death,¡± Albert began his question quizzically, ¡°why do you want my soul specifically?¡±


    ¡°Your soul is as good as any other, to be clear. But you possess some additional property and, conveniently, you happened to be dying while I was nearby.¡±


    ¡°And how did you know that?¡±


    Death¡¯s hands began to twitch again, though his expression remained the same; still cold, still calculating, still apparently very much in control. Albert watched carefully to make sure he wasn¡¯t hovering his hands over the surface of the desk.


    ¡°An¡­associate,¡± Death¡¯s pause didn¡¯t seem to be the sort of stutter that Albert had experienced in his attempts to lie, it was more of an introspective pause, ¡°of mine who lives in your neighborhood and who I have granted the ability to detect such things as are attached to your soul, contacted me shortly before the death of your body. I actually arrived in the area to make you a deal for that property, though it would appear that I arrived after the death of your body.¡±


    ¡°And who is this associate?¡± Albert pressured. There were other questions on his mind, questions like are you saying you can grant people super powers? or perhaps, if you heard about me before my body died and arrived after, how long was my body dead for? But there were only so many opportunities to ask questions on this same train of thought. Those other unspoken questions could come later, if at all. If Albert veered too far from the topic, it would give Death more opportunity to run around and adjust his story.


    ¡°A young man by the name of Dickie, if you would believe it. At first I believed it was a nickname of sorts, but he signed his contract as such without issue. I would say it is an unfortunate name, but I have also heard much worse.¡±


    A memory began to return to Albert at the mention of the name. Not a full memory, just a voice he didn¡¯t recognize. Two voices.


    You ¡®hunn-ed percent positive, Dickie?


    Positive. They¡¯re loaded. Or they got somethin big. Never seen somethin like this before.


    Albert couldn¡¯t place it. It was like remembering dialogue from a movie he had seen years ago. Not even an image. Nothing to link it to a place or time.


    ¡°And it just so happens that I died shortly after you were alerted, so that you would be more likely to scoop up my vulnerable soul and reap the rewards?¡±


    ¡°It is rather convenient, is it not?¡±


    ¡°Who killed me?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°You arrived just after my body was killed. It seems likely you saw something. Or if this Dickie was around and keeping an on me for you, I¡¯m sure he saw.¡±


    ¡°A logical presumption.¡± Death kept up his calm smile, but Albert could tell he was avoiding the question. Almost every other answer up to that point had been straightforward.


    ¡°Do you know who killed my body?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Death shrugged, as if assenting that the direct question could not be easily avoided.


    ¡°Who was it?¡±


    ¡°A different young man. I believe his name was Austin. Though, if you had any lingering curiosity on the matter, Austin is now dead.¡± Death seemed pleased with the inclusion that Albert¡¯s killer was also dead.


    ¡°And I assume you killed him.¡±


    ¡°I did end his life. Yes.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Death resumed his ¡®arbitration.¡¯


    ¡°You seem to have accepted that information quite well. Do you have further questions on the nature of your predicament?¡±


    ¡°I need to process some things.¡± Albert hissed through clenched teeth. There was so much bothering him, but still so little he understood. Worse, he couldn¡¯t think of the right questions to ask.


    ¡°Perhaps I should state my case then? Perhaps that will give you the perspective you require to process the information you have been given.¡±


    Albert remained silent, hands still on the table, head slumped slightly.


    ¡°Your soul helps fuel me. I am a being beyond your understanding and mortal requirements. Beyond that, many other beings depend on me to fulfill the means of my nature. I act in a necessary capacity to maintain balance in the world. So while the soul you cling to so dearly is no greater than any other, I can make use of it better than you merely by subsisting on it. Further, I can utilize the property linked to your soul, while you cannot. At least not in your current state.¡±


    Albert paused for a moment, a thought finally catching in his mind. It was the second time that Death had said that his soul in particular was nothing special.


    ¡°Are you holding my soul hostage?¡±


    ¡°Would you like to elaborate?¡±


    ¡°This is a ¡®if I can¡¯t have it, than no one can¡¯ situation, isn¡¯t it.¡±


    ¡°Yes. In that sense, you could say that I am holding your soul hostage.¡±


    ¡°So, it doesn¡¯t matter what I say. Whatever happens, you either get my soul or I die for good.¡±


    ¡°It may feel like that realization took quite a few hoops for you to jump through before that sank in, but you might also be surprised by how many people never reach that conclusion in these scenarios.¡±


    ¡°So you arranged for this to happen. I assume Austin was also an associate of yours?¡±


    ¡°I would be lying if I said I did not know him prior to today.¡±


    ¡°So, you have no right to my soul.¡±


    Albert paused. He watched Death¡¯s now genuinely confused look and followed it to the table where both sets of hands still rested on the surface.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a question. That was a statement.¡± Albert grinned. ¡°A true statement.¡±


    ¡°What you might consider as right is something that may be construed as many things.¡±


    ¡°No. This means I can make statements and determine their validity without having to rely on you for truthfulness. If the table lets me say it, then it¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Albert, I hope you¡­¡±


    ¡°There is another way out of this for me, other than giving Death my soul.¡±


    Albert grinned. Death frowned. The table had turned in the most figurative way.

 Chapter Three: Arbitration (part 2)

    ¡°My name is Albert Carol.¡± Albert grinned as he spoke. With his palms pressed firmly onto the surface of the desk, there was a sort of excited tension in his body. Or at least, what he thought was his body. The nature of his existence still confused him. ¡°My name is Ge¡­¡± Albert choked out a second attempt. An intentional lie.


    ¡°I deserve my soul more than Death does.¡± Albert raised an eyebrow as he completed the statement.


    ¡°What an individual deserves is somewhat arbitrary in a grander scheme of things.¡± Death sighed.


    Albert took note of the other man¡¯s hands, still on the table, and shrugged.


    ¡°There are people that would miss me if I suddenly disappeared or died. They shouldn¡¯t be let down. Even in a grander scheme of things.¡±


    ¡°That would the first reasonable argument out of your mouth.¡± Death nodded. ¡°And who would these people be? Would there be more people depending on you than me? If there were more depending on my work, then I would say that I am more deserving of your soul and property than you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you would say.¡± Albert narrowed his eyes at Death. ¡°What would the table say is the truth? Or better yet. What is the truth.¡±


    ¡°If one party in a conflict contains more dependents than the opposition, their cause is more deserving. As for the absolute truth, I should retire this table if every poor soul I sit in front of it abuses it to buy time before their inevitable loss.¡±


    ¡°What about the value of individual connections? I argue¡­¡± Albert paused and waited for what felt like an appropriate time before restarting his statement. ¡°Some connections¡ªfriends, family, dependents, whatever you call them¡ªhave greater weight and value than others. A closer connection is more deserving of preservation than a more distant one.¡±


    ¡°I will concede that, though it would be impossible to measure such a weight. And in the measure of numbers, thousands rely on my work and continued prosperity. Would your few strong connections out-value my thousands? The desk forces truth by way of honesty, it is not a calculator of obscure variables.¡±


    ¡°Then how about I try both arguments? The connections I have are more valuable than those of Death¡¯s.¡± Albert paused, nervous as he forced himself to say the opposing statement. ¡°Death¡¯s connections are more valuable than mine.¡±


    ¡°Do you see now? Just because you can make a statement does not make it absolute. Both could be true. That is to say, both exist outside the realm of absolute falsehood. This is what I tried to warn you of when you began making wider reaching statements. The desk alone cannot prove either of us the victor, but we can certainly rely on it to keep us from telling lies.¡±


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    ¡°Then I shouldn¡¯t be able to say that you have a right to my¡­¡± Albert choked, though he was prepared to. ¡°So the desk can tell me that you have no right, and it will prevent me from saying you have any right. So. You are trying to cheat me.¡±


    ¡°In a sense, yes. I cheat everyone. That does not mean that¡­¡± Death paused and pressed his lips together tightly. ¡°That does not change the circumstance of this ordeal. I collect the souls of the dead and dying to utilize what remains before they are left to waste. You are dead and fading.¡±


    ¡°But you can allow me to live.¡± Albert had begun his statement with absolutely no confidence. He was honestly surprised that it hadn¡¯t been interrupted. But it further proved the statement that there was another way out. Death could let him go and restore his body. Or at the very least, there was some semblance of life that Death could return him to.


    ¡°And why should I? Who are these people that are so powerfully connected to you that I should turn this time into a deficit for?¡±


    Albert paused and looked down at his hands. He was almost embarrassed, but this wasn¡¯t some teenage punk trying to get him to say what he was about to say. This was Death.


    ¡°My mom.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡± Death seemed more curious than disparaging or confused. ¡°I hesitate to think that most boys your age would admit to that. And just your mother?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s all I have, really. And I¡¯m all she¡¯s got. Not like¡­ in a hover-parent sort of way. She¡¯s not like that. She¡­ She¡¯d kick your teeth in if she were here.¡±


    ¡°A protective woman. Most mothers¡­ most decent mothers are.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And just your mother? No other soul on this earth would care if I cut your life short for good?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know? Can you list every person you¡¯ve ever met that would remember you?¡±


    ¡°I can.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. I wasn¡¯t being serious.¡±


    ¡°Your outburst aside. I am sure that your father¡­ would miss you?¡±


    ¡°If he knew about me, maybe? What are you getting at? Or are you just trying to make me feel like crap? ''Cus that¡¯s not helping your case.¡±


    ¡°I am considering your claim.¡± Death frowned. Not upset, but contemplative.


    ¡°You mean you might actually admit you¡¯re wrong?¡±


    ¡°No. Though I may concede to an alternative solution.¡±


    ¡°And why would I ever trust you to offer me a solution that wouldn¡¯t screw me over? After all this? There¡¯s no way you¡¯re just changing tunes for no reason.¡±


    ¡°Hands on the table, Albert.¡± Death hummed, almost not paying attention. Albert certainly noticed that his hands had entered a tirade of gesturing that had lifted them well off the desk.


    ¡°This arbitration may well end in a stalemate. You seem to be about as stubborn as I am. And I seem to have lost the advantage of your fear in the midst of chaos. It seems, also, that what passes for the truth has emboldened you and there is little I can do without damaging what it is I desire. This all being said, I will offer you the following deal: bring me two souls. One to take your place, and one to compensate me for this waste of time. And then, when the time comes that you die of your own errors, perhaps you will reconsider my original offer.¡±

 Chapter Four: The First Contract

    ¡°Let me get this straight. You want me to get you not just one, but two souls? Like, human souls?¡±


    ¡°I believe that would be fair compensation for the effort I have already gone to, which will be wasted effort should I give you back the sad life that was taken from you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill people for you, you sick¡­¡±


    ¡°No. No. You misunderstand. Murder is not part of this arrangement. Not inherently. I merely want you to do what you have just done. Be stubborn, be smart, talk them into doing what you already refuse to do. I can even have an associate handle the capture of the wayward and unfortunate beings for you. All you would have to do is talk.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    ¡°There is no catch, Albert. What I¡¯m offering is, as you pointed out, a dark proposal. That you are already considering it tells me that it does not bother you in the way in might bother others.¡±


    ¡°You have an associate hunt down the souls of two people that are already dead and I talk them into giving up their souls to you?¡±


    ¡°That would be accurate. And in return, I will reunite your spirit and body to a living state. Of course, you will only receive half up front and full payment upon completion of the agreement. And there is also the matter of what should befall you in the event of your untimely death by less enterprising forces.¡±


    ¡°Hold up. I¡¯m not agreeing to anything without getting a clear explanation of what I¡¯m agreeing to.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I will get you something in writing. Though, do bear in mind that you only have a short period of time remaining before this whole ordeal ends in you vanish entirely.¡±


    Death opened a drawer on the other side of the desk, and with a flourish of his hand produced a piece of ancient paper. It wasn¡¯t quite paper though, it was thicker and smoother. And there was an odd hole near a bottom corner.


    As Death held out the vellum sheet, and as it drooped unceremoniously from his hand, writing began to scrawl across the surface. As it fell into Albert¡¯s hands, the document grew close enough for the writing to become legible.


    Contractee, ______________ agrees to provide in payment two souls of human quality to the name of contractor _____________ by means of consensual written agreement. Assistance and target identification provided to the meeting of physical labor needs of contractee ___________ (init). Additional spiritual property acquired through the acquisition of souls in question to be determined upon submission. In the interim period of acquisition, contractee agrees to subsist in a state befitting a halfway measure of the finalized agreement; I.e., renewal to life and the living body lost in death. Upon submission of second soul, full renewal to life and living body shall be granted; addend.¡ªupon future inevitable demise, contractee agrees to submit to further arbitration for the transfer of soul and spiritual property to contractor ________ (init). Materials provided, within constraints of the value of secondary soul.


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    Albert read through each line carefully, breaking each statement down and reasoning out what would actually be required of him. It didn¡¯t sound too hard, though he was proof that it could be a difficult task.


    ¡°Time is running low, Albert. The sooner you sign, the sooner we can be done with this.¡± Death held out a feather quill pen for Albert to sign with as he spoke.


    The implement looked like a relic of the medieval era.


    ¡°And what if I disagree later, what if I want to back out?¡±


    ¡°Standard procedure dictates that such an act would result in the forfeiture of your soul and spiritual property to me. That is, unless I specify otherwise; which I will not.¡±


    ¡°Who comes up with these rules?¡±


    ¡°This is the way things are. I fill in the gaps with clarifications and clauses. The only warning I will give you is that agreements with me are binding. This is a serious decision. But I implore you, in your own best interest, to sign.¡± Death hefted the pen in Albert¡¯s direction, beckoning him to take it.


    There was a silent moment in the impossible room, where there was a resounding echo that seemed to carry no sound at all, and also a hum that could have been every sound. It pressed against Albert¡¯s mind, like an ocean bearing down on him as though he were on the seafloor. There was no other clear way out. Not one that meant staying alive.


    With a resentful tug, Albert plucked the pen from Death¡¯s waiting hand and pressed it against the vellum. A small dribble of black ink bled onto the page.


    ¡°Fill your full name there, initial there, and sign below the text.¡± Death pointed to the various blank lines in the text and then to the empty space at the bottom of the page.


    In mere moments, the blanks were filled and Albert read his own name in his head as he went over the document one last time.


    Death quickly retrieved the document and the pen, scribbled into the remaining blank spaces, signed at the bottom of the page, and nodded to Albert.


    The world seemed to fade around Albert as the agreement was finalized. The open void of the ceiling rushed up past him as he was flung through blackness for what felt like ages. Then, all at once, Albert found himself on the sidewalk. Palms bloodied, nose just a little bent, Albert pulled himself to his scraped knees and then onto his feet. He felt numb. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was due to shock or some other trauma response, but nothing seemed to register quite the same as it had in the moments before he had woken back up in his body. At least, nothing seemed to hurt the way he felt it should have.


    All of his body felt present, but somehow unaccounted for.


    Unsure whether what he had just witnessed was real or a dream, Albert limped hastily back up the street. Back to the same stoop where he had confronted his pursuer. Back home.

 Chapter Five: Held Together With Glue

    The world seemed normal. It was as if only a few minutes had passed since the last moment Albert remembered before dying. He had just been walking to school, and then nothing. And then Death.


    The steps up to the third story apartment Albert called home were a slow climb. Albert¡¯s legs didn¡¯t want to cooperate, and limping up stairs was more like micromanaging muscles rather than actually walking. When he finally made it to the door, 3C, he had to take a minute to steady his hands enough to fit his key into the lock. Even with the direct effort it took to control his movements, he could hear the rattling metal of the key against the tumblers in the lock, but he eventually managed to get inside. Getting the key back out was also difficult, but not as hard. He just pulled on the key ring and then leaned on the door to close it; though closing the door that way was more forceful than intended and the loud slamming noise made him cringe.


    ¡°Albert? Is that you?¡± He could hear his mother¡¯s voice coming from her room.


    He had hoped that she had already left for work in the time he¡¯d been away, or that maybe she¡¯d still be asleep if her next shift wasn¡¯t until later. But now that he was paying attention, Albert could hear the sound of the TV in her room. She¡¯d been relaxing, so of course she heard him get back in.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me.¡± Albert called back. If he was lucky she¡¯d just let him have his privacy while he tried to figure out what to do now.


    ¡°What are you doing back so early? Did something happen at school?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t actually make it to school. I¡­ I tripped on the way there and face-planted into the sidewalk.¡± It was mostly true¡­ at least it would explain his injuries if she noticed. Albert knew better than to try and lie to his mother as well, she could always see through him. That might have also just been because he was a terrible liar.


    ¡°What?!¡± Her tone had grown immediately more urgent and the sounds coming from her TV stopped. ¡°Let me see.¡± Albert¡¯s mother had gotten out of bed and was leaning out of her bedroom door to see into the rest of the apartment.


    Albert was still slumped against the front door, nervously slouching away from his mother¡¯s view, but he could still see her across the gap of the kitchen. He was trying to avoid eye contact, but she gasped immediately as soon as she saw him and he knew it was too late.


    ¡°Oh, mon coeur.¡±


    It was his mothers way of expressing that stern but loving thought that mothers always do when they feel pity for their children but want to let them know they¡¯re loved. Like when an older southern woman would say ¡®oh, honey, I¡¯m sorry, c¡¯mere¡¯. Which, Albert heard most other older woman use that very phrase of oh, honey but his mother never did. She said it was something she learned in a french class when she was younger and it had always stuck with her. But whenever she said it she always seemed more¡­ loving, more honest. It almost felt like it was something that slipped out rather than something she chose to say.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She had rushed over to him as soon as she saw bleeding, and then stopped in shock when she came around the kitchen counter and saw the rest of him. The bloodstains in his jeans at the knee and the shredded skin on his palms. ¡°Oh¡­¡± She was at a total loss for words, though Albert vaguely saw her mouth move as if she couldn¡¯t stop herself from making the motions of something she¡¯d rather not say out loud or in front of him.


    ¡°Albert, sit down.¡±


    He followed his mothers orders as she rummaged through one of the kitchen cabinets for bandages.


    ¡°You look like you just barely limped out of a trash shredder.¡± She had a wet cloth and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and was dabbing around at the scrapes on his chin and jaw. ¡°This is going to sting. Lift your head so I can see the rest of you.¡±


    His mother hissed in sympathetic pain as Albert reluctantly lifted his head to show the cuts and scrapes around his eyes and nose.


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    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t look like you have anything above eye level¡­ but how? How did you trip and have this happen?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really paying attention. I had my headphones on¡­ and there was just¡­ like a¡­ crack in the sidewalk that jutted up and my foot caught it. And my hands just barely went up in time, and I caught the edge of the crack on my knees.¡± Most of this was true, Albert was just leaving out the part where there was a violent mugger instead of a crack in the sidewalk that sent him tumbling. Oh, and the fact that it had, apparently, killed him.


    His mother gave him a look, as though making it known she could tell there was something that was not being said, but let it go. His wounds were more perilous than whatever it was he wasn¡¯t telling her.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m going to call the school and make sure they know you won¡¯t be making it in today.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll really care¡­¡±


    ¡°I doubt that, but I should do it anyway. And you, you will be on the couch all day so that I can keep a close eye on you.¡±


    Albert¡¯s mother carried on silent, switching between damp cloth and antiseptic swabs with each scrape and cut, only moving on to a new injury when she was satisfied the previous one was clean enough to bandage. Albert was watching closely and winced in anticipation of the stinging pain that would come from the alcohol, but it never came. The more he thought about it, the more Albert realized he hardly felt any sensation from the rag pressing against his skin, let alone the sting of the sanitizing alcohol. He still feigned pain as best he could so that his mother wouldn''t realize just how bad of a situation he was in, but it worried him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to put some gauze on your knees and hands. Let me know if its too tight.¡±


    Albert watched silently, slightly more paranoid now that there was time for the edge of his encounter to wear off. He kept a close eye as his mother wrapped the gauze around his hands, and he could see her pulling the stretchy wrappings tight, but it hardly felt like there was any pressure. It was more like there were strings tied loosely around the parts were the edges of the gauze were.


    ¡°Is that too much?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s fine, I think that¡¯s just right. But if my fingers start to turn purple, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you can talk again. And you can tell jokes too. That¡¯s a relief.¡± Albert¡¯s mother had begun rolling up his pant legs to get at his knees, and still wore a serious expression, but her tone had become more relaxed; almost sarcastic.


    Albert was confused, but he could guess she was referring to his silence. Had it been that long since he¡¯d said that the school wouldn¡¯t miss him? It might have been. He was having a hard time paying attention.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry. I think I¡¯m a little out of it.¡±


    ¡°You hit you head, you might have a concussion. Or one of those sort of conditions that athletes get that isn¡¯t exactly a concussion.¡±


    ¡°Since when do you watch sports?¡±


    ¡°Someone was talking about it on TV.¡± Albert¡¯s mother shook her head and let herself smirk just a little at the alleviation of the tension. ¡°Not that it matters, I¡¯m going to have to keep an eye on you for a while to make sure you don¡¯t fall asleep. You¡¯re lucky this isn¡¯t that bad¡­ if your cuts were just a bit worse I¡¯d take you to the ER. But I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll need stitches.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± Albert doubted he would have minded stitches, given the pattern of lacking sensation he was picking up. This had to have been part of what Death had written in the contract. A halfway measure. Half alive.


    ¡°Do you want glue or these pinchy bandages for your face?¡±


    ¡°Glue?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes the other prep cooks get cut doing work with the small knives, they use this stuff to close the wounds quick and it only comes off with solvent.¡±


    ¡°But you never cut yourself.¡±


    ¡°No I don¡¯t. But I still keep some in my apron in case no one else has any.¡±


    ¡°Okay, do the glue. I don¡¯t like the way bandages feel on my face.¡±


    ¡°This might sting some, and I don¡¯t know how it feels on your face either, so you¡¯ll have to tell me so I can get feedback.¡±


    ¡°Of course, for science.¡±


    Albert held still as his mother held a small plastic bottle of light amber liquid over his face and dropped the solution over the cuts he couldn¡¯t see. He had assumed there was some damage, but it took quite a while to cover all of them. And then she blew on the glue to get it to set quickly, which was weird, but made sense. Albert couldn¡¯t really feel the cool air sensation he expected, but he could smell the scrambled eggs she¡¯d eaten for breakfast. That meant at least some of his physical senses weren¡¯t turned off, which was a relief.


    ¡°Okay. Now go lie down on the couch. And no scratching the glue either, you¡¯ll irritate the skin and peel something.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can get a replacement for my shift today too. Maybe rent a movie?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t let you just sit on the couch in an empty apartment with a possible concussion.¡±


    Albert limped idly over to the small couch in the connected living room and stretched out on the worn out cushions. His mother put away the first aid supplies and sat down in the armchair next to him and turned on the TV. It was nice. Calm.


    And for a moment, Albert didn¡¯t think about the repercussions of his agreement that awaited him. Even if he''d only had this one even home with him mom, his family, it would have been worth it.

 Chapter Six: The Collector Comes Calling

    A knock at the door around 4 PM marked the end of a rather awkward conversational silence that had accompanied the end of a TV show which neither Albert nor his mother were invested in. They could only pretend to be interested in rich people pitching ideas to other rich people for money for so long, and genuine conversation had dried up long before that stage of TV watching had started. The edge that accompanied the inevitable departure of Albert¡¯s mother from the apartment also bothered both of them, though for different reasons. Albert desperately wanted to be left alone to think about the situation he now found himself in, but couldn¡¯t tell his mother about; and so he was hopeful that she would end up having to go into work. Albert¡¯s mother, sincerely worried about her son and his potential concussion, was still texting all of her co-workers and hoping one of them could pick up her shift.


    And so, when the knock came, there was a small alleviation of tension. There was something else to think about, something new to distract them.


    Albert¡¯s mother sat up to answer the door, giving Albert a silent finger gesture to stay put. Albert couldn¡¯t hear the first little bit of the exchange or see who it was standing just outside the door when it was answered, but the surprise in his mother¡¯s voice was enough to draw his curiosity.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying I know all of Albert¡¯s classmates, but I¡¯ve never seen you at the school.¡±


    ¡°I just moved here the other week¡­¡± There was more to the statement but it was said more quietly.


    The responding voice was new. Completely new, Albert had never heard this girls voice before. Not that he knew the voice of every girl at his high school, but he knew the voice of every girl from his high school that would find their way to his apartment. That is to say, there was no girl at his school who would be there for any reason, or even know where he lived, and whoever this was was immediately suspect.


    ¡°All right, I was worried he¡¯d miss some assignments with it being the middle of the week. Come in.¡± Albert¡¯s mom stepped aside and a girl with a long blonde braid of hair and what looked like worn out army surplus clothes stepped into the apartment.


    If it weren¡¯t for the ragged clothes and faint blotches of red on her face, Albert would say she looked like most of the preppy pretty girls he saw at school. But he had never seen this girl at school before. He would have remembered her. It wasn¡¯t her appearance, but the way she carried herself that would have made it hard to forget her. Her posture was perfect, despite the incredibly heavy looking backpack slung over her shoulder, and her eyes were steady and meticulous as they took in the room she now found herself in.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    Her voice was softer than she looked, and almost unnaturally¡­ girly? Albert couldn¡¯t think of a better way to describe it. It was like the exact opposite of the girl he saw before him was talking.


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Amy. Remember me? I just transferred schools and you showed me around the other day?¡±


    There was something about the penetrating glare she was giving Albert while his mother¡¯s back was turned that convinced him he should agree with her very convincing lie.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah.¡± Albert was still struggling to find the words to respond, causing Amy to roll her eyes in frustration.


    ¡°I heard that you had an accident or something and I thought I¡¯d bring you some notes and homework from class so you don¡¯t fall behind.¡±


    Albert¡¯s mom had closed the door and was returning to her place on the armchair at that point. As she passed in front of Amy there was a dramatic change of expression on the girl¡¯s face, and she immediately started to look more pleasant and cheerful¡ªlike the way she sounded. Amy pulled a chair from the dining room table around the couch and took a seat near Albert¡¯s feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you can¡¯t stay for too long, I have to get to work in little bit¡­¡± Albert¡¯s mom looked to the digital clock on the microwave in the kitchen before adding on, ¡°I should probably make a quick dinner too, before I leave.¡±


    ¡°You know, Amy could probably stay and keep an eye on me while you¡¯re gone,¡± Albert cut in before Amy could say whatever it was she had opened her mouth to say. ¡°Since you¡¯re afraid I might have a concussion¡­¡±


    Amy¡¯s eyes darted to Albert for a second, long enough to say that Albert had either done something very right or incredibly stupid, but not long enough to say which. Albert¡¯s mother shot Albert a completely different glare that was entirely motherly, and suspicious of something else entirely.


    "That actually would be nice, if you don¡¯t mind, Ms. Carol. It¡¯s hard to study at home; my dad¡¯s kind of loud. And if you need someone to keep an eye on Albert I wouldn¡¯t mind. I¡¯ve had a concussion before and it was¡­ awful.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Albert¡¯s mother¡¯s nervous eyes were now going back and forth between her son and this girl that she hardly knew.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m in any condition to do anything inappropriate mom.¡± Albert pushed as hard as he could for the sarcasm he knew would hide whatever the truth of the situation really was. Amy¡¯s face going beat red was probably what sold the lie though. Even Albert couldn¡¯t tell if that was a genuine reaction. It was already embarrassing to be around a girl his own age while his mom was there taking care of him, so he didn¡¯t need to act all that convincing as long as he channeled that feeling.


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    Albert¡¯s mom sent a warning look his way, but tilted her head to the side is acceptance.


    ¡°That would actually help a lot. I can¡¯t find anyone to cover my shift, and you seem like a nice enough girl. I¡¯ll leave some cash so you can order pizza or something.¡± Her eyes darted back to the microwave clock once again. ¡°I should probably get cleaned up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, I need to catch Albert up on something that happened during prob and stat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just step out then.¡± Albert¡¯s mom stood up abruptly and made her way back to her room.


    Amy¡¯s expression changed immediately as soon as she was alone with Albert, once again taking on that militaristic alertness. Before she could open her mouth though, Albert shook his head and held up a finger.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to listen in, you need to tell your story.¡± Albert mouthed the words.


    Amy¡¯s shoulders slumped in disbelief and her eyes rolled again, as though this were the most obnoxious thing she had ever done.


    ¡°So, that weird kid that sits in the corner?¡± Amy¡¯s voice once again clashed with her appearance, but she was doing a very good job finding that perfect range of voice. She wasn¡¯t being obviously loud, but she wasn¡¯t being quiet either. Albert¡¯s mom would be able to hear this story and she¡¯d likely believe it was genuine.


    ¡°Mike? With the long hair? The guy that keeps drawing anime girls during class?¡± Albert was feeding Amy plausible material that he knew wouldn¡¯t raise suspicion.


    ¡°Yeah, he was doing that during a group project. And that other girl. The obnoxious one, what¡¯s her name.¡±


    ¡°Gwen or Celia?¡±


    ¡°Is Celia the one with the¡­ you know¡­¡± Amy made a noise indicative of a hand gesture which Albert guess meant ¡®well endowed¡¯ but couldn¡¯t tell. Amy wasn¡¯t emoting at all, it was almost creepy.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s Celia.¡±


    ¡°Well, Mike was drawing a very accurate caricature of her¡­¡± Amy¡¯s expression changed on a dime again as the door to Albert¡¯s mom¡¯s room opened and she crossed the small space in the back hallway to the bathroom. ¡°And it was on the handout for the project. But we all had to check our group members work, and Mike swapped papers with Celia.¡±


    Albert was almost invested in this story that was no doubt fake, but as soon as the water for the shower went on and they could both hear the shower curtain, Amy stopped to give Albert an inquisitive look. Albert nodded and gestured that she could drop the act.


    ¡°Your mother is paranoid.¡± Amy¡¯s voice dropped all pretense and now matched her appearance and attitude perfectly. It was almost gruff, not masculine, but definitely not girly.


    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t going to mince words. His mother took notoriously short showers and he wasn¡¯t going to waste this small safety net of a potential witness in the next room.


    ¡°Relax. I¡¯m the contractually provided assistance.¡±


    That sentence alone spurred both a sigh of relief and a new subtler tension in Albert¡¯s body.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief. I have no idea what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡± Amy rolled her eyes again, this time less dramatically. It seemed to be her preferred method of emoting. ¡°You look like you got hit by a car.¡±


    ¡°That happened before the whole soul deal stuff. I got pummeled to the ground and killed.¡±


    ¡°Rough.¡± There was only a formal sympathy to her voice, but the sentiment was reassuring to Albert.


    ¡°What am I supposed to be doing?¡± Albert was hinging on desperation as he brought up the root of his worries, but before Amy could answer the water in the bathroom stopped running.


    ¡°Don¡¯t freak out about it, you have plenty of time. We should really go over these easier problems first.¡± Amy¡¯s voice had returned to it¡¯s fake and gentle tone as she pulled a binder out of her backpack and handed Albert a spiral notebook as well. ¡°I took very thorough notes.¡±


    -------------


    It hadn¡¯t taken too long for Albert¡¯s mother to leave, though there was a clear reluctance as she did. Albert could tell that she didn¡¯t want to leave a teenage boy and girl alone in an apartment for hours, but she didn¡¯t have many options and he was clearly in no position to do anything she was afraid of. Going off the short conversation where Amy had shared her real attitude, he would wager she would punch him in the throat if he tried anything. Not that he would. It was only on his mind because it was the easiest lie they could give to avert his mother''s suspicion.


    As soon as the door was closed behind her, Amy¡¯s demeanor shifted once again to the harsher and more business-like one she had revealed privately.


    ¡°I saw a copy of your contract and you¡¯re in it deep, kid.¡±


    ¡°Is it really that bad?¡±


    ¡°How good are you at intimidating people?¡±


    Albert bit his lip absently, hardly feeling any sensation from the act. It was more a nervous habit than anything else, but provided less relief with the limited sensation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a ¡®pretty bad,¡¯ and tell you now that you are probably screwed.¡±


    ¡°Could you, like, at least run me through this. I¡¯ve gotta have a chance at least, right?¡±


    ¡°Okay, numb nuts, here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen.¡± Amy said with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to find another half dead schmuck who¡¯s going to bite it before you do, convince them that the pain and suffering of actually dying is too much, and get them to hand over their soul. And normally, that only works because Death has a way with intimidation and giving off that sense that the end is inevitable. And he looks the part for his role too. But you¡¯re a kid, you look like a trauma ward patient, and you have no communications skills.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®bite it before I do¡¯?¡± Albert had heard the rest, but that was the part that worried him the most.


    ¡°Albert, you got lucky¡ª insanely lucky¡ªthat there¡¯s no deadline on your contract. You must have really ruffled some feathers or something, because normally you¡¯d have some dramatic three or seven day time limit on this. But you¡¯ve got halfway measures. You¡¯re not dead, but barely. I can tell from the smell of your injuries under those bandages that they are going to fester. You aren¡¯t going to heal naturally. And when your mom figures out what¡¯s happening, she¡¯s going to take you to a doctor, and from there you¡¯re screwed the whole other way.¡±


    ¡°Why? What happens if I go to a doctor?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re going to cut you into pieces and try to figure out why your body isn¡¯t doing anything and you aren¡¯t dying because of it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡± Albert was fighting back a wave of nausea now. He couldn''t tell if it was nerves or the vivid image swirling around his brain that he was going to be vivisected. Both were getting pretty bad.


    ¡°So your time limit is probably something like three days for the first soul. After that¡­¡± Amy shrugged her shoulders and gave a light shake of her head. ¡°After that who knows what could happen, soul dealing is weird. That¡¯s assuming you even get the first soul in time.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so I need to get a soul. We have until 2 AM tonight. What can we do?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a long shift.¡± Amy raised her eyebrows in surprise, genuinely taken aback. Her reaction at something so inconsequential to the current situation bothered Albert. It told him she wasn¡¯t actually invested in helping him.


    ¡°Yeah, she works late. That means we have some time right now. What should I be doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you a target. But beyond getting the two of you in a room with the proper paperwork, there isn¡¯t much else I can do.¡±

 Chapter Seven: Ready For Something Awful

    ¡°You¡¯re going to need this.¡± Amy handed Albert a small case that looked like a case for reading glasses.


    Upon opening it, Albert was almost surprised to find actual glasses.


    ¡°What are these for? Do they let me know when someone is lying or something? Or do I get that desk that Death has?¡±


    ¡°They let you see half-deads. The spirits of people that linger after their body fails.¡± Amy let out a deep sigh after her explanation, as if finally accepting that she was doing this. ¡°It can be a little disorienting if you don¡¯t wear them right.¡±


    Albert unfolded the glasses and rested them on his nose. There was a faint green tint to the glass, and it almost made it a little easier to see in the dark. He didn¡¯t quite understand what could be so disorienting until he he moved his head to look around. The small bit he could see to the side of the glasses wasn¡¯t moving at the same rate that everything else through the glasses was; it was like there was some sort of visual delay to the normal world.


    Fearing what might happen if he actually walked around with the glasses on, Albert pushed the frame closer to his face to minimize his peripheral view. Amy let out a huff of a laugh at the action and carried on.


    ¡°Now what do you see?¡±


    Albert took a closer look down the space outside his apartment building, moving his head very slowly to limit any visual distractions and take in everything around him. The parking spaces in front of the apartments were packed for the night, the communal dumpster was stuffed, there were a few cars passing the complex on the nearby street. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.


    ¡°Seems normal to me. Just green?¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move to a less familiar space then.¡± Amy pulled Albert by the arm up the battered sidewalk towards the nearest main street.


    ¡°Why am I looking for something off? I thought you were going to find a target?¡±


    ¡°I only have the one pair of glasses. I have some contacts, but they only last for about three hours and you¡¯ll need the glasses for the arbitration. So, you spot something off, I¡¯ll put on my contacts, and then we¡¯ll go from there.¡±


    ¡°What am I looking for? How off does a half-dead look?¡±


    ¡°Well, here¡¯s a good opportunity for a demonstration. There¡¯s some roadkill over there, see if you can spot the animal''s spirit.¡±


    Amy had brought Albert to a stop on the sidewalk and indicated to a spot across the street he couldn¡¯t see very clearly. There was an obvious lump on the road, and not too far away from it there was a yellow tinted cat staring at him with that reflective glare in its eyes.


    ¡°I see a yellow cat. Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Probably. Color tints are usually giveaways. Yellow is a common tint with those glasses, but sometimes you get a red or blue. Weird behavior is another giveaway. What¡¯s the cat doing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ staring at me.¡±


    Albert waved his hand from left to right, but the cat didn¡¯t move an inch.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s gonna be a hard one to judge. Cat¡¯s are already weird. But I don¡¯t see it, so you¡¯ve definitely spotted something. Just try not to attract too much attention from half-deads, some of them are unpleasant to deal with. Particularly animals. They can¡¯t hurt you, but sometimes they just follow you until they dissipate.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so bad about that?¡± Albert gave the yellow cat one last fleeting glance before letting Amy pull him further along the sidewalk.


    ¡°Some of them get smarter after they die. Some of them start to look more like a corpse the longer they linger. Some of them linger for days¡­¡± Amy paused to look around her, almost as if she were paranoid. ¡°I once had a crow follow me for two weeks. I could take the glasses off, but I could hear it the whole time.¡±


    Albert turned his head to look at the cat again, but it was gone.


    ¡°How does that work? I¡¯ll need to hear what the half-dead is saying, right?¡±


    ¡°For you, as long as you keep the glasses on and you can see them talking, you¡¯ll hear them. It¡¯s like a weird consciousness thing where you fill in the gaps of your experience. I can just hear them all the time.¡±


    ¡°What makes you so special¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up. What do you see now?¡± Amy pulled Albert to another stop, now in front of a strip mall.


    Albert was familiar with the location. It wasn¡¯t exactly a respectable location to shop, but there was a convenient grocery store. Everything else changed out every ear or two. Nail salons, small restaurants, hobby shops, pawn shops. Sometimes the store spaces just sat empty, like the one small corner space that used to be a P.O. box site that did some shipping too; that one had been empty for nearly ten years.


    Just inside one of the empty storefronts, Albert could see something that definitely struck him as off. There was a man standing confused in the empty store, he had a blue tint to him and he was staring directly at Albert.


    ¡°There¡¯s a man in that empty store, he¡¯s blue tinted and he¡¯s looking directly at me.¡± Albert had turned to Amy, trying his very best to look casual and avoid suspicion from the half-dead man.


    ¡°Okay, hold on.¡± Amy retrieved a contact lens case from her jacket pocket and began to untwist the lid carefully.


    The man in the store wasn¡¯t looking away and when Albert chanced a glance at him, the man noticed. There was a short period of silence before the man stepped through the exterior wall of the store and out towards where Amy and Albert were standing at the edge of the parking lot. The passage through the wall caused a brief moment of confusion for the man, but he quickly got over it and began to shout.


    ¡°Hey, kid, you can see me! What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Ugh, you looked. Didn¡¯t you.¡± Amy groaned, halfway through getting the first contact onto her eye. ¡°Well, who needs depth perception.¡±


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    Amy blinked her eye quickly a couple times before shutting the unlensed one hard. It made her look cartoonish, but Albert figured it was probably to help avoid that same displacement that happened with the glasses. With a quick movement, the lens case was stowed back into a pocket and Amy rushed the half-dead man.


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure what she was going to do at first. She had said that a half-dead couldn¡¯t hurt someone, but after a quick jab from Amy it was clear that that wasn¡¯t a two way street. The half-dead man reeled back from the punch as it landed at his gut. Amy didn¡¯t give him a chance to recover either, as she delivered an onslaught of punches to the man¡¯s torso and face. Just as she had pushed him back towards the wall he¡¯d walked through, she began to fish through her pockets with her left hand. The man made a lunge at her, seeing no other option but to fight, but merely impacted against her and slid off like she was a concrete wall. Albert knew the feeling.


    There was a strange mix of pity, horror, and relief as Amy removed something from her pocket and struck at the man with her left hand. Just as the hit landed, he vanished completely.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± Amy rolled her shoulders back like she¡¯d just finished stretching.


    ¡°What happened? Where¡¯d he go?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been taken to an arbitration space. I figured it would be easier for you that way. Less chance of them trying to make a run for it. And it gives me some time to run over what you¡¯ll have to do.¡±


    Amy looked around the parking lot and at the sight of a car pulling through the far end she nodded for Albert to follow her away from where they had stopped. A short walk around to the loading dock area of the strip mall and Amy carried on.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some pre-written contracts, partially filled with Death''s name and approval and with spaces you¡¯ll need to sign as the arbitrator.¡± Amy had pulled her backpack around her body and begun fishing out items. First a tan file-folder with several sheets of paper, then a bottle of ink, and a few more paper scraps. Albert could see a few other things in the backpack as well; namely a large brown box that might have been a shoebox, as well as several other folders and binders, but what worried him the most was a rather large knife handle that looked like the kind of thing hunting enthusiasts toted around to show people they liked hunting.


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to read through those first. You¡¯ll have to use a pre-written one, so that will limit your options for negotiation, but they¡¯re pretty broad.¡± Amy handed the file folder to Albert and carried on. ¡°And there are a few rules you¡¯ll need to follow.¡±


    ¡°Okay, like what?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯re following human laws here, so you can throw any sort of lawyery ideas out right now. You¡¯re arbitrating with the laws of nature and what you and Death are personally capable of. You can threaten him as much as you want, heck you could even take a few more swings at him¡­ though he might dissipate early if you do much more of that. But you can¡¯t lie. Death¡¯s arbitration desk does that sort of thing for him, but you¡¯ll just have a spare room. If you lie or misrepresent the nature of the contract, you won¡¯t be able to get the contract to stick.¡±


    ¡°Slow down, this is a lot.¡±


    ¡°Okay. You¡¯re right. And you¡¯ve got a little time. Just read through those for a bit.¡±


    Albert opened the folder and flipped through the pages held inside it by a clipboard-like clip at the top. Most of them were labeled at the top with general topics like revenge, but others had less straightforward labels like no condition, debt of dispute, and with prejudice. Rather than read through all of them, Albert stopped on the ones that didn¡¯t make sense based on the title and read through the conditions outlined in them. Thankfully most of them were quite short and simple.


    ¡°Amy, this one says that the arbitrator agrees to terminate target affiliate individual. That means kills someone. Right? That¡¯s an assassination contract?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you can sub-contract me if you would rather not. I¡¯m already a full-time employee so I don¡¯t get a cut out of the contract for it either.¡±


    Albert took a step back at how cavalier Amy was being about murder.


    ¡°Oh come on. Don¡¯t act like it¡¯s a horrible thing. People die all the time. Half of them get turned into spirtual gasoline for a contractor like Death anyway. And yeah, it¡¯s sad, but if it¡¯s a person''s last wish then I don¡¯t mind. Usually those contracts only get used to kill the person that killed the contractee, anyway. So it¡¯s usually justified.¡±


    ¡°Usually?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s definitely psychopaths. Sometimes people make ridiculous kill requests too, just because they think it isn¡¯t going to happen. They usually don¡¯t have a termination deadline either, so it can just be a hair short of the person''s natural lifespan.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sugar coating this.¡± Albert was still put off by the concept that he might be agreeing to have someone murdered, but it might end up being that or his own death. And that gave him pause. And after that pause, he began to question himself further for even entertaining the thought.


    ¡°Yeah. But like I said, you don¡¯t have to use that contract. There¡¯s usually a better option. You¡¯d be surprised what dead people are willing to give for a reassurance or just information. Heck, living people make stupid agreements all the time whenever they agree to a service''s terms and agreements without reading them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but not murder.¡±


    ¡°Just pick five and try to go for those. Most people go for a parting farewell, revenge, cash, or one of the other material trade options.¡±


    Albert flipped to one that said material trade. It was fairly short and there were plenty of blank spaces where adjustments could be made. Namely, there was a particular option set off by a check box with a dollar sign and a blank space.


    ¡°Is there a limit to how much money I can promise to the guy?¡±


    ¡°Money usually only pays out for delayed collection contracts or for next of kin. And he can¡¯t spend the money anymore. But if he has next of kin, I got ten grand I can give you for that. Anything else has to come from you.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ I guess that¡¯s a lot. Do I get more for a second contract?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s not that great, but I guess I just need the first one and we see where we can go from there?¡±


    ¡°Assuming he¡¯s okay selling his soul for money.¡±


    ¡°What do I do if I have to alter one of these?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But what if he only agrees to one if I add or remove a certain condition?¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re going to have to use the personal agreement contract. That¡¯s the last on in there.¡±


    Albert flipped to the last page. It was blank.


    ¡°It¡¯s blank.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that means you have the full force of responsibility for any agreements. You write it, you carry it out. No help. I mean, you can request to sub-contract me, but that also involves more paperwork and you will have to compensate me for that sort of thing.¡±


    Albert took a deep breath and leaned back against the brick wall of the loading dock. It was overwhelming, but Amy seemed to be more invested in helping now than she was before. And for some reason, that helped. Even though Amy admitted she would be willing to murder someone, and had implied that it wasn¡¯t anything new to her, her help still meant a lot. He felt like she was there to protect him rather than hurt him, or even work against him in any way. Albert had been worried about that, that whoever Death would send¡ªif he sent anyone at all¡ªwould be working to subtly undermine Albert and mess with his contract somehow. He didn¡¯t think Death was that petty, but it wasn¡¯t impossible.


    ¡°Okay, I think I¡¯m about as ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? You won¡¯t get any do overs if you mess up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m ready. I¡¯ve been through arbitration with Death, how bad could some random guy be?¡± Albert took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall.


    ¡°He could be a lot worse, usually the contractor or arbitrator gets the worst of the stress. But hey, you¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Albert regretted taking a positive attitude immediately. It seemed to upset Amy.


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m just trying to pump myself up.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. This is going to suck. Let that sink in now. This is going to suck and you¡¯re going to struggle. Say it.¡±


    ¡°This is going to suck and I am going to struggle.¡± Albert repeated the words and felt oddly better.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Amy held out a feather quill that looked somewhat like the one Death had given him to sign his own contract. ¡°When you take this out of my hand, you¡¯ll be taken to the arbitration room. And you¡¯re going to be there until one of three things happen; he signs a valid contract, he dissipates, or you break the pen.¡±


    ¡°What happens if I break the pen?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. It ends the arbitration, but it¡¯s messy in so many ways.¡± Amy shook her head, clearly not wanting to explain further. ¡°Just don¡¯t break the pen.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Don¡¯t break the pen. It¡¯s going to suck. Struggle.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Amy patted Albert on the back and shoved the pen into his hands.


    All over again, Albert¡¯s world went black.

 Chapter Eight: The Second Arbitration

    The man was sitting at a small folding table in a daze. Albert wasn¡¯t sure if the man had been aware of the time that had passed between being placed in the arbitration room and right then. Albert wasn¡¯t sure if time even passed in the arbitration room at all, or if it only passed when he was there. It was just a void now. No clear walls or surfaces apart from the table, chairs, a small patch of visible concrete floor that it all sat on, and an old fashioned light bulb dangling from a wire that came from nowhere. It was clearly not the same room Albert had dealt with Death in¡ªif you could even call it a room at all.


    It only took a moment for the man to take notice of Albert, but by that point they were both fully coherent and aware of their surroundings. The man was clearly upset, and about to get up from his chair, which was an interesting detail to Albert; he had been standing when he arrived to his arbitration and Death had been sitting, now he was arbitrating on Death¡¯s behalf and the roles were reversed.


    ¡°I apologize for the rude introduction and the sudden change of scenery.¡± Albert sat down and cut the man off from talking, doing his best to imitate Death¡¯s casual businesslike demeanor. ¡°Please remain in your seat. I¡¯m in a bit of a rush, you see. Or well, you are. You¡¯re confused, your mind is racing, you don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening or why the world is being so off. Am I missing anything?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s what it is.¡± The man seemed to calm slightly as he settled in his chair again. ¡°What is this? Why can¡¯t I talk to nobody or touch nuthin?¡±


    ¡°I hate to be the one to inform you, but you¡¯ve died. The form you see yourself in now is nothing more than a lingering spirit, detached from the physical world.¡± Albert set his folder down on the folding table in front of him, just out of the man¡¯s reach, and set the ink pot down next to the folder.


    ¡°Naw. That ain¡¯t it. This is somethin else. I musta smoked something and forgot.¡±


    ¡°I regret to inform you sir, that you are probably about as sober as one can possibly be. But, the longer we go at this, the closer you get to total annihilation.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The man pushed his chair back and moved to sit up but only made it an inch off his chair before falling back into it. Albert couldn¡¯t tell if there was something wrong with his form or if he was just confused, but it meant he had another chance to bring the man back it.


    ¡°Look around. Does this look like the natural world to you? Did you not just get pummeled into the dirt by a teenage girl? Or is that something normal for you?¡± Albert goaded the man.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re on about kid, but I ain¡¯t dead. And if you don¡¯t get me outta here fast, I¡¯m gonna lay hands on you.¡±


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t need to end in violence. But if it does, know that while you may be an errant spirit clinging to the world, I am not. I could batter you like a rag doll if I wanted to. But that would waste time and energy.¡± Albert hadn¡¯t wanted to resort to threats, but it seemed to be where the discussion was going. He needed to steer things in a new direction.


    ¡°Listen here, punk¡­¡± The man finally stood up and smacked his hand down on the table.


    ¡°You can waste this time trying to fight me, which will not work. Or you can use your last few minutes of time leaving something behind. Because if I let you wander off back into the night, you¡¯re going to fizzle out in to nothing. Your spirit won¡¯t be going anywhere else. You¡¯re just going to be gone. Useless. But if you sit back down, we can talk about how you can pay off debts for your family, let someone you''re leaving behind know that you care, or screwing over whoever or whatever it was that got you killed.¡±


    ¡°You think someone killed me?¡± The man paused for a moment.


    Albert remembered that moment himself, that brief moment of clarity as some of his last living memories came back to him. Not clear, but slowly flowing back as he tried to focus.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re dead. I¡¯m just here representing Death. I have opportunity, you have unfinished business. I¡¯d like to make a deal.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I think I remember. I was picking up some stuff for my girlfriend. She used to work at the salon before it closed. She left some of her kit there. And I slipped on something.¡± The man put his hands to his head, as if to squeeze more sense into his head. ¡°Ugh. That was so stupid.¡±


    ¡°I can arrange to have those items taken to your girlfriend and a note to be left.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and what do you get out of it?¡± The man looked suspicious now. ¡°You seem real eager to help, but you ain¡¯t said anything about what you want.¡±


    ¡°I wanted you to grasp the stakes first.¡± Albert was sure this is where it was going to go wrong. It was the part he¡¯d been afraid of this whole time. ¡°I want the last thing you have left to give me. Death is a collector of souls, and I¡¯m here to get yours for him.¡±


    ¡°Ah hah. Hah. Yeah. Right.¡± The man was halfway between laughing and sputtering in disbelief. ¡°You want my soul? Of course you do kid. Like that¡¯s possible.¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°You¡¯re already dead and talking to me, here, and you still think that isn¡¯t possible?¡±


    ¡°Look, kid.¡± The man sat back down. Finally a good sign. ¡°Just in case this is real, I¡¯mma let you know, my soul ain¡¯t exactly great. I done a lot of stupid things, messed up a lot of good opportunities. Disappointed my mother, rest her soul, and I¡¯m still disappointing my old man. And even if I could give it to you, because you¡¯re making it sound like it¡¯s my duty or some crap, I¡¯m not gonna let you have it for like¡­ a favor? If I¡¯m selling out I¡¯m going hog wild on my price.¡±


    Albert struggled not to roll his eyes, but it was getting difficult. This man was making this harder in ways that Albert himself had never struggled with in terms of valuing his own life. This was nothing like his arbitration.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already said it isn¡¯t worth much. So, I¡¯m not liking your odds of getting much in exchange.¡±


    ¡°Ten million.¡± The man slapped his palm against the flimsy table. ¡°No. Ten billion.¡±


    There was a paused and Albert squinted his eyes at the man. He couldn¡¯t tell if he was being serious. Obviously he wasn¡¯t really taking any of this seriously to begin with, but this was just a whole new level of stupid.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to impart a fortune for one soul. If every soul got off leaving their loved ones millions of dollars when they died, the world would crumble. I can provide you enough for your girlfriend to close out some debts, but that¡¯s about all I¡¯m willing to offer you on that front.¡±


    ¡°Alright. How much?¡±


    ¡°How about twenty-five hundred?¡±


    ¡°Kid, I got at least four grand in credit card debt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure your credit card debt won¡¯t be passed on to your girlfriend. I¡¯ll wager she had less to cover in terms of debt than you do?¡± Albert had talked about debt refinancing with his mother a few times. It was always a depressing conversation, because he knew she had some debt to pay off¡ªthough she¡¯d never say how much¡ªand it always ended in an awkward trailing off.


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s smarter about money. She could probably do with a couple extra grand though, get her feet back under her. It¡¯s rough not having a steady place to work, and hair dressin'' work ain¡¯t easy to lock down.¡±


    ¡°Thirty-five hundred then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The man nodded somberly. He seemed to finally be taking the arbitration more seriously. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯d probably make it out with that. And you¡¯ll get her her stuff out the salon?¡±


    ¡°That can be arranged. And if you¡¯d like to leave her a note, I can provide you with paper.¡±


    ¡°Nah, my writing¡¯s garbage. Just tell her she was my only, and I¡¯d quit it all again for her¡­ but like, I wish I didn¡¯t have to quit livin for her? You know, make me sound romantic.¡±


    ¡°Consider it done. I¡¯ll just need you to sign some papers for me to make sure it¡¯s official.¡±


    Albert opened the folder and flipped through until he found the material trade contract form. He quickly dipped the pen into the ink pot, checked the box for financial compensation, scrawled in the amount, checked the box labeled services, scrawled out ¡®delivery of goods¡¯ and then handed the paper over.


    ¡°You¡¯ll fill your name here,¡± Albert pointed with the feather end of the pen to the top blank, ¡°and sign here at the bottom. Your girlfriends name will need to be given as well, here and here.¡±


    Albert handed over the pen. The man looked at it skeptically for a moment, like it was the wildest thing, before taking it and writing out names and signatures as instructed. Once the spaces were filled, Albert filled out his own signatures and name spaces where it was indicated for the arbitrator to do so. He only gave a parting glance to the man¡¯s name, but it was enough to stick it in his mind as he completed the contract. When he looked up again, Arnie Goldman was gone and Albert was at a loading dock once again. The only other person there to watch was Amy. And while she had a mild curiosity, she looked more impatient than anything else.


    ¡°I see the pen¡¯s not broken. Did you get him to sign?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he signed. Uh, we have some things to deliver to his girlfriend. But he signed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s excellent. Let me see the contract.¡± Amy held her hand out for the paper and Albert handed it over weakly. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s not bad. I half expected you to come out needing the whole ten grand and a hired assassin. So this isn¡¯t half bad at all.¡±


    ¡°Ugh¡­ I just realized that I never got her address.¡± Albert smacked himself in the face and twinged as he felt the pain of the scrapes that had been glued shut. He experienced another jolt of surprise as he realized that he¡¯d actually felt the pain. And then all the pain began to cascade over him.


    ¡°Ooh, looks like the halfway measures are changing. Let¡¯s get you back home¡­ and I guess I can take care of the rest of this. I¡¯ll just sign under you as a sub-contractor.¡±


    Amy walked closer to Albert and wrapped an arm under his to support him. She stuffed the folder and contract back into her backpack and the two of them made their way back to the apartment. The walk back felt longer than it did the first time, but that was probably the pain spreading slowly throughout Albert¡¯s body as he regained at least part of the sensation that he¡¯d lost.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Albert stopped Amy at the door to his apartment. ¡°When it¡¯s all done. No one else comes here. Okay? My mom has already met you, but I don¡¯t want her involved in any of this. If anyone is going to come by, they need to send you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± Amy nodded. For once her militaristic appearance shifted into a genuine sympathetic expression.


    Amy unlocked the door for Albert. Albert had tried, but his hands were shaking worse now than they had been when he had first gotten back home and couldn¡¯t feel anything. He was practically being carried at that point and barely made it inside and on the couch.


    ¡°You should probably sleep, if you can. I don¡¯t know what sort of shifting halfway measures you''re experiencing, but if you can sleep it¡¯s probably a good idea.¡± Amy turned back to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll come back with a pizza or something, I shouldn¡¯t be more than an hour¡­ maybe longer. We¡¯ll see. I might need to check in with someone else while I¡¯m out. Just¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, get some sleep.¡± Albert interrupted Amy and waved her back to the door.


    He was beginning to experience what he could only describe as exhaustion. It wasn¡¯t exactly like being tired, his eyes weren¡¯t threatening to close on him, but he felt like all of his body was bruised¡ª as it may well have been. More than that, it felt like he was being stretched apart very slowly; like he was a torture victim on a stretching rack that was pulling him apart in all directions. Albert closed his eyes and waited for something to happen, but the sound of the door closing again came and went and it felt like hours passed before anything felt even remotely different. And even then, the only difference was that he found himself slowly becoming physically tired.

 Chapter Nine: Halfway Measures

    Albert wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d fallen asleep. But when he woke up, it was just after midnight. He was still on the couch, where he¡¯d collapsed after making it back home. But the events before that, arbitration with Death and that other man, Arnie, it felt like a dream. It felt like that whole day had been one long dream that had been just one misplaced shadow short of becoming a nightmare.


    Amy was sitting on the floor with her back propped up against the side of the couch next to Albert. She looked like she was asleep with her hand tucked into a pizza box. Albert had halfheartedly nibbled on some food throughout the day, never really feeling hungry, but now that he was looking at the box he felt distinctly not hungry. Normally pizza was a treat and he would eat at least half of whatever got ordered, but even just the smell of food was making his stomach turn. Out of curiosity, Albert slowly leaned over to peak inside the box and was only slightly surprised to see that three slices of pepperoni pizza had been removed to make room for Amy¡¯s hand which was gripping her oversized hunting knife.


    Disregarding some of the pain in his side, Albert leaned a little further to take a look at Amy¡¯s face. She looked like she was asleep, her breathing was level and slow, her eyes were closed and relaxed, her head was tilted in a way that took the strain off her neck. Anyone would say that she was asleep, but Albert wasn¡¯t convinced.


    ¡°Stop looking at me.¡± Amy muttered quietly.


    ¡°How do you know I¡¯m looking at you?¡±


    ¡°I felt the couch cushions shift after you looked inside the box.¡±


    ¡°Why are you pretending to be asleep?¡±


    ¡°I figured your mother would be less suspicious if I was still here when she got back, and being asleep would be appropriate. The knife is for if anyone else comes here looking for either of us.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll try not to read into that. Can we talk about what¡¯s happening to me?¡± Albert relaxed back into the couch and stared at the ceiling, preparing himself to pretend to be asleep for whenever his mother returned.


    ¡°I like your odds a lot better now, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about. The first one is usually the hardest, doesn¡¯t make the second one any easier, but you think about it less. Or so I hear.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was worried about that. But I¡¯m more curious what¡¯s happening to my body? It feels like¡­ like I¡¯m on one of those medieval torture tables where they stretch your body. But it¡¯s like every direction from everywhere.¡± Albert paused as he debated whether or not to include the other option that explained his sensations. "Or drugs. I could be on drugs right now and not know."


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard it described both ways. But I¡¯ll be honest, I don¡¯t talk to a lot of people like you. Mostly I just do what I do for¡­ people like Death. But if I had to guess, that return of your sense of pain is a good sign. You don¡¯t smell like a dying person anymore either, so that¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°What does a dying person smell like?¡± Albert was curious. Amy had mentioned before that she could tell he wasn¡¯t going to heal based on the way he smelled. Was her sense of smell that powerful or was it something else?


    ¡°They smell like open wounds. Usually. There¡¯s things in your blood that clot up wounds and stop bleeding. When they can¡¯t do that for whatever reason, they try harder and they usually ooze out with the blood. The cells that do the clotting¡­ they smell different.¡±


    ¡°I take it you¡¯ve been around a lot of dying people?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Amy didn¡¯t elaborate and her voice had that tone that said she definitely didn¡¯t want to talk about it.


    ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t ask any more questions about you, then.¡±


    ¡°Good choice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a pretty easy to read person anyway. Child soldier military type, acts older than they are, good with knives, can take care of herself. I get the feeling that¡¯s about as much as I need to know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You should be more worried about yourself.¡± Amy grunted, finally opening her eyes to look at Albert.


    ¡°How long do you think I have?¡±


    ¡°Who knows. Could be weeks, could be a day. Halfway measures are unpredictable, that¡¯s probably why Death let you off so easy.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he expects me to be able to actually do this?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Amy¡¯s answer was quick and abrupt. She didn¡¯t even think about it.


    ¡°Do you think I can do it?¡±


    ¡°That depends¡­ how did you get that man to sign?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he believed any of what was happening was real, but I was honest and clear with him. Maybe at the end he was just willing to accept that if he was actually dead that he should at least leave on a good note. It¡¯s hard to say, I couldn¡¯t really get a read on him.¡±


    ¡°Some people are like that. They don¡¯t trust anyone or anything, but they consider the offer as a hypothetical. I doubt you¡¯ll get that lucky again. But you might make it out of this okay.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°When do you think I¡¯ll be able to get out and find another soul?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say. Do you feel any better after resting?¡±


    Albert thought about it. He let his mind wander to the way his body felt, where the pain was, what his breathing was like, where any discomforts might be. It was still painful, and there was still that stretching sensation, but the cuts and scrapes didn¡¯t ache as bad and the bruised feeling he had felt before falling asleep was weaker as well.


    ¡°I feel¡­ a little better. I think. I definitely don¡¯t want to go out again right now. Maybe not even early tomorrow. Maybe after dark again tomorrow night?¡±


    ¡°We can do that. I¡¯ll get a car though. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll get much more luck so close to home.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to steal one are you?¡±


    ¡°No, I can rent a car, idiot.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t realize you were that old.¡±


    Amy let out a stifled laugh at that. She really didn¡¯t look much older than Albert was. At most, she couldn¡¯t be older than twenty-five. And that was being generous. But maybe she was. Twenty-five would be enough. Though the way that she had laughed at the insinuation that she wasn¡¯t that old made Albert think there was something else going on with her age. She worked for Death, so it was possible she wasn¡¯t actually human


    ¡°So, what? Are you immortal or something? Are you even human?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m something. I thought you weren¡¯t going to ask me about myself?¡±


    ¡°And I thought you were a teenager.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°How old are you then? Or what are you?¡±


    ¡°First off, hasn¡¯t anyone ever told you it¡¯s really rude to ask a woman how old she is? And second, hasn¡¯t anyone ever told you it¡¯s way more rude to ask what someone is?¡±


    ¡°Okay. Okay.¡± Albert huffed. ¡°I¡¯ll drop it. I just. You know. You look my age.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Amy shook her head and resumed her fake sleeping posture.


    It seemed like that marked the end of any conversation. Albert still had a lot of questions, like ¡®how does arbitrating a soul deal change the way my body feels?¡¯ or ¡®what should I expect to happen when I get a second soul to sign a contract?¡¯ Important questions. But Albert had wasted his conversation on trying to figure out more about Amy. And Amy was clearly a more private person than Albert was expecting. She just seemed so open about things when she did give answers that it felt like that was the way she was.


    __________


    Eventually, Albert¡¯s mother returned home. It had been silent for a while after Albert¡¯s conversation with Amy, but he hadn¡¯t gotten any more sleep. He had been caught up in thought, and occasionally had tried to clear his mind by watching Amy pretend to sleep. It was oddly comforting to have her there, prepared for whatever might happen. Even if she was clearly dangerous.


    Albert¡¯s mother entered the apartment quietly. Maybe she was hoping to not be heard, or at the very least not to wake Albert if he was asleep. The second Albert heard a key in the lock he assumed his sleeping position. His heart began racing as he lay there with his eyes closed, hoping she wouldn¡¯t get close enough to notice.


    There was a moment of silence before Amy began to stir, and he was glad that she was the first to make a sound. She awoke rather loudly, giving Albert an excuse to follow suit.


    ¡°Oh. Heck. Sorry, Ms. Carol. I guess I fell asleep¡­ Guess Albert did too.¡± Amy¡¯s fake voice was still excellent, it even sounded like she had just woken up.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I was talking with a co-worker and they said that people with head trauma should actually get sleep and not be kept up. At least, that was what she remembered. So who knows if that was actually true. But it looks like Albert¡¯s fine.¡±


    Albert took a chance and opened his eyes as he stretched. The action was painful, but it was normal. It felt like the natural thing to do and Albert was sure his genuine wince of pain would help sell the act.


    ¡°Did you save me some pizza?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t eat much and Albert wasn¡¯t all that hungry either, so there¡¯s still plenty left.¡±


    ¡°Do you need a ride home, sweetie? It¡¯s pretty late and I¡¯d feel bad if you don¡¯t have someone that can come get you?¡± Albert was confused by the offer, as his mother didn¡¯t have a car either. She took the bus to work. But maybe she was offering a bus pass?


    ¡°That¡¯s okay, I live just down the street¡­ and I¡¯ve got mace.¡± Amy reached into her backpack to reveal a small aerosol spray tube. ¡°My dad doesn¡¯t let me leave home without it.¡±


    ¡°Smart man.¡± Albert¡¯s mother smiled in approval.


    The exchange between Amy and his mother was strange. He hardly ever saw his mother interact with anyone else besides him, let alone another woman. The natural solidarity that formed between them in the simple exchange was so¡­ normal. Albert didn¡¯t quite understand it, but it felt like they were becoming friends somehow.


    ¡°Should I expect you over again? I don¡¯t think Albert will be making it to school tomorrow either, but I really don¡¯t want him to fall behind.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I can bring some notes by again tomorrow and help him stay up to date on assignments.¡±


    ¡°That would be nice.¡± Albert¡¯s mother turned to finally address him. ¡°Did you get enough rest?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We just kinda went over notes and watched TV. It was nice.¡±


    ¡°Well, Amy, thank you for coming over and offering to keep an eye on him. That was very sweet.¡±


    ¡°You sound like she¡¯s my babysitter, mom.¡±


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t have a lot of friends over. Sometimes I think you¡¯re ashamed of me or something.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Ms. Carol. You seem like a cool mom.¡± Amy collected her things, Albert couldn¡¯t see her stow her knife, but he was sure it was gone. ¡°I should get home.¡±


    ¡°Stay safe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    As Amy closed the door behind her, Albert¡¯s mom turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s cute, Al. Little rough around the edges, but she seems really polite and nice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not into her, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re trying to get at. She¡¯s just nice.¡±


    ¡°You better not be leading her on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°And you better not get that girl pregnant either.¡± Albert choked at his mother''s accusation. ¡°Or I¡¯ll make you get a job and pay child support. And rent.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to¡­ no. She¡¯s just a friend.¡±


    ¡°She better be. Or I¡¯m going to have a lot of uncomfortable questions for her tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Geez, just go to sleep mom.¡±


    Albert was already dreading the coming day. He would rather go to school beat up and bloody than have to sit though his mom having an awkward sex related talk with Amy. He hoped, more than he had ever hoped for anything else, that that would not happen. His mother had dropped the conversation easily enough though, so he had some expectation that it wouldn¡¯t.


    As he waited for his mother to complete her nightly ritual of getting ready for bed, he stared at the ceiling and let his mind wander. He tried to focus again on how he felt physically, on any pains and aches, on the unnatural stretching feeling. But it seemed to feel distant again. Not numb, but faded. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted his soul collecting task to be over, and it seemed to matter less of what it would cost the more he thought about it

 Chapter Ten: Sitting Halfway Across Two Seats

    ¡°You seem spacey again, Albert. Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± His mom kept asking him if he was okay and it was getting a little frustrating.


    ¡°I literally just told you that I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You told me you were fine two hours ago and have barely moved an inch since.¡±


    Albert paused and adjusted his body on the couch. There was a much more dull pain at the movement, but the stretching feeling was still there. It didn¡¯t feel as powerful as it had the night before, but it was still there. What bothered him most was how much time he was missing. He was somewhat aware of it, but it was blurry. It was like being distracted by something out of the corner of your eye, looking away to see what it was, and then looking back to realize it had been hours since you turned away. Albert was fairly certain that this was some new form of halfway measure between being alive and dead. He had been thinking about what that meant, and why the measures had shifted after having someone sign the same piece of paper that he did. And maybe he was just getting lost in thought about that, and he wasn¡¯t actually missing hours of his life; maybe he was just getting lost in thought.


    ¡°Albert?¡± His mother¡¯s voice interrupted his thinking once again, but he quickly realized why.


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m okay. I feel a lot better actually. I think I¡¯m just going a little crazy. I don¡¯t usually stay in one spot so long¡­ and I didn¡¯t sleep great last night, so I guess I¡¯m still tired?¡±


    Albert had, in fact, not slept at all the last night. He had thought he might have fallen asleep when he closed his eyes and then opened them again to find that it had quickly become morning, but he had just gone out of focus. He didn''t feel at all like he had slept and his body was stiff from lack of movement. It was nearly two in the afternoon and he still felt that stiffness when he went without stretching for more than an hour. And stretching was still painful, so he didn¡¯t do it every hour. It was only when it became more uncomfortable to stay still that he moved more than a few inches.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about you, Al. You¡¯ve never really gotten hurt like this before.¡±


    ¡°It was going to happen eventually. At least I didn¡¯t break anything.¡±


    Albert was unsure if he had actually not broken anything. The impact that killed him may have actually broken part of his skull or spine, but it was likely repaired or undone to allow him to be mostly alive so he could fulfill the contract he¡¯d signed. He was just glad that if there was anything like that still impacting his body, his mother hadn¡¯t noticed.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to write to your uncle and see if he knows a good doctor that works with head injuries.¡± Albert¡¯s mother stood up from her spot in the armchair and began to rifle through her pile of mail and papers on the side table by the TV.


    ¡°No, mom. I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t bother uncle Cassius. It¡¯s not like I won¡¯t be fine by the time he gets a letter anyway. Besides, I don¡¯t think he believes in doctors.¡±


    Albert had never actually met his uncle Cassius, but they had been writing him letters his whole life. His mother said that the only way to get hold of him was by written letter, which he though was silly, but it had always been kind of fun to pull out his mother¡¯s fancy stationary and write a letter. At least, it had been fun when he was a little kid. After a while, Albert had realized that his mother only wrote to his uncle when she was behind on rent or there was some other financial struggle. He didn¡¯t really feel bad that they were taking advantage of his father¡¯s brother, but it was uncomfortable that they needed to at all. His mother writing a letter to see if he knew a good doctor was basically a request to have him pay for a doctors visit. It was his mom¡¯s way of dealing with the fact that they didn¡¯t have health insurance.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right¡­ it would take a while to get there by mail.¡± His mother¡¯s voice was contemplative, but not exactly put out. ¡°It would still be nice to make sure there isn¡¯t any long term damage... Or a hairline fracture in your skull.¡±


    ¡°Mom. I¡¯m fine. If I had brain damage, I think I¡¯d know or it would be just a bit more obvious. You know? I¡¯m just out of it.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Her rifling stopped and she began to restack her mess of papers. ¡°But if you keep spacing out, I¡¯m going to write him a letter.¡±


    ¡°I will try my best, mom, but I don¡¯t know if I can promise that it won¡¯t happen again. Maybe I¡¯ll just try and take a nap until whenever it is Amy gets here and we can go over classwork.¡±


    His mother nodded, but her posture when she sat back down looked uncomfortable. She had her neck craned froward to get more of a side view of him sleeping. Albert had the passing thought that she was probably going to make sure he kept breathing. She could be paranoid like that, but she wasn¡¯t usually this clingy. Then again, he was never really in positions like this where he had to have someone there to make sure he was okay.


    Not wanting to cause more of a conflict between them, Albert closed his eyes and did his best to look like he was asleep. For a while, he was still very aware of his mother watching him; but, it didn¡¯t take long for his thoughts to drift and for his mind to focus on other things. He was caught up in thoughts of how he could have handled his last arbitration better, different arguments he could have made, and different approaches he could use to different contracts. He was pretty sure the next arbitration would have the same limit to the basic contracts he could use. Using the rest of the ten thousand dollars could make the second arbitration pretty easy, but offering a large amount of money right off the bat would probably be a really bad idea. Part of what made him think the last offer had worked was because of how little he had actually offered. That more reserved offer had been realistic and sombre, it had been at about that point in the arbitration that Arnie had started to take things more seriously.


    As soon as he let the man¡¯s name cross his mind, he was overcome with a sense of seriousness. He had bought a man¡¯s soul. He had bought Arnie¡¯s soul. He wasn¡¯t just some man, he had had a life and goals and motives and relationships. And when he had died, he had sold his soul to help the person he cared about most. And who knew if his girlfriend actually cared as much about him in return. Albert found himself on the verge of fighting back tears at the thought of the world he had stepped into and turned upside down for his own selfish purposes. He had to tell himself that he couldn¡¯t have helped Arnie. But could he have? Could he have written out a deal like Death had given him? But then Arnie would have had to go through the same hoops that he was going through. And maybe the offer would have caused a daisy chain effect, maybe they both would have kept on offering a second chance at life in exchange for the collection of more souls. And no one would ever actually collect. They would all just live half lives, undying, feeling the side effects on their bodies. That would be chaos.


    Somewhere in the middle of Albert¡¯s scattered thoughts, he heard a knock on the door. He opened his eyes just in time to see his mother cross the room and answer it. Albert was already prepared to see Amy walk in, and when she did he let out a sigh of relief that he sincerely hoped his mother would not misinterpret.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look too relieved to see me, Albert. I come baring homework.¡± Amy¡¯s face scrunched up in mock disgust at the idea of homework, her fake normal voice and expression just as natural looking as it had been the day before.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you two have the living room for a bit.¡± Albert¡¯s mom had closed the front door and made her way across the apartment towards her own bedroom. ¡°But if I hear anything other than homework happening in here, I¡¯m going to interrupt.¡± Her voice sounded more like a warning than a threat.


    As soon as her door was closed, Amy sat down on the floor next to the couch and pulled out several notebooks to begin her fake homework review. To Albert¡¯s surprise, she produced actual homework assignments with the names of his real teachers on them. And she had copies of the homework herself that she had started to go through.


    ¡°Is there a reason your mom is so concerned about you fooling around with me?¡± Amy¡¯s voice was still in her fake mode, but her expression had once again become more alert and less girlish.


    ¡°No?¡±


    Albert was taken aback by the question. On top of the real homework, the question seemed so out of character for Amy. It was a normal conversation in context, since his mom was probably listening in; but considering Amy was helping him collect souls for Death, he was mildly overwhelmed by the incongruity.


    ¡°I mean, according to mom, my dad got around a bit when they were younger. But I haven¡¯t given her any reason to think I would do that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°I was going to ask yesterday¡­¡± Amy paused, her tone perfect for the facade of asking what was going to be an awkward question. Albert was familiar with this one, so it didn¡¯t bother him as much anymore, but it was still uncomfortable to answer when he was almost certain his mom was listening in. ¡°Is your dad still around?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re asking if he¡¯s alive or not, I have no idea. I guess he¡¯s kind of dead, considering no one¡¯s heard from him in years, but mostly we just don¡¯t talk about him. He left when I was too little to remember him and just never came back.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Amy¡¯s tone seemed more genuine, or maybe it was her change in expression that made her apologetic tone more real. ¡°My parents are divorced, so I was just curious what your situation was.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. That¡¯s a normal question to ask.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t know what else to say, so he turned his attention to the binder full of notes and homework that had been dropped in his lap. The notes were in a clean and tight style that he guessed was Amy¡¯s handwriting. As he went over them it became very clear that she had actually attended the classes that he had. How or why she actually did, Albert couldn¡¯t tell. But she had. And the homework assignments seemed to go back a day as well. It occurred to him that maybe Amy was being optimistic and had actually gotten him the school materials so that he could get back into his normal life more quickly and easily.


    ¡°Are you doing okay? You look overwhelmed.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I just. I¡¯ve been a little spacey today. I don¡¯t think I slept well last night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Was it because I stayed so late?¡± Amy¡¯s voice said sorry, but her expression was indicating something else silently. She nodded as though indicating that she knew what he meant but couldn¡¯t talk about it out loud.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to make you feel bad, but I think that might be part of it. I don¡¯t blame you, and I¡¯m really glad you came by yesterday. But it may have been a bit too much too soon, y¡¯know?¡± Albert was trying his best to use words that answered both the question Amy had asked audibly and silently. The lie, that it was because he had stayed up too late; and the truth, that he was experiencing new side-effects from arbitration.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try not to stay that late again today. But if you don¡¯t mind, I kind of want to hang out so I can give my dad some space.¡±


    ¡°Stay as long as you want. And please, don¡¯t let my mom¡¯s paranoia get in your head.¡±


    Almost as if on cue, Albert¡¯s mom made her way from her bedroom to the bathroom with a clean set of clothes and towel rolled up under her arm. She was probably satisfied that nothing was going to happen as long as she was there, and so it was safe to shower. Albert didn¡¯t bother with trying to get in any real conversation while she showered. It wouldn¡¯t be a big enough window to go over the questions that had been building up in his head, and for some reason he found himself driven to go over the notes from class. Something about reading was actually helping him focus, and as Albert continued he realized he wasn¡¯t experiencing the reading fatigue he normally did from topics that didn¡¯t particularly interest him. Reading notes and studying was always a chore, but it wasn¡¯t that bad now for some reason. Stranger still, as Albert read, he realized that he wasn¡¯t spacing out or losing any time. Something about reading was helping to keep his mind engaged with the outside world without having to interact with another person.


    It was relatively quiet in the living room until Albert¡¯s mother finally decided to leave. If she had left any later, she might have missed the bus that she always took to work. Albert knew she was still suspicious of Amy and him being alone together, but he was glad it was for a normal reason at least. Or, what seemed like a normal reason.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many more times I¡¯m going to get away with visiting here after school. You might need to convince her you¡¯re well enough to go to school tomorrow, just in case we can¡¯t find another soul tonight.¡± Amy¡¯s voice was back to her normal businesslike tone.


    ¡°But we should be able to find another one tonight. Right?¡± Albert was nervous at the way she had phrased her statement.


    ¡°I have no clue. You¡¯ve been insanely lucky so far. So I wouldn¡¯t put it past you to be able to wrap your whole contract up in two days, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s very realistic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair, I guess.¡± Albert muttered with a sigh and closed the notebook. ¡°How much longer do you think we should wait before heading out? I¡¯m fine reading notes, but I really would much rather be trying to get this¡­ soul-searching over with first.¡±


    ¡°Interesting use of the phrase.¡± Amy let a smile pass across her face, which felt strange to witness. But it was short lived. ¡°That¡¯s actually where the phrase originates. Though it was in¡­ German? Maybe. Anyway, it comes from mystics that used to wander the empty fields and forests to seek out the souls of departed travelers or missing people and announce their deaths in whatever town they lived in. Or, well. Kind of. Mostly it was arbitrators, like you, looking for people living outside of civilization to prey on.¡±


    ¡°So, we¡¯re literally going to go soul-searching.¡± Albert let out another sigh as he acknowledged the task.


    It felt like he¡¯d just been forced to hear a dad joke. But it felt like a fact that she had been present for, so Albert tucked away that piece of information. It was a piece of evidence that supported his theory that she was some sort of immortal being that had been around as long as Death had.


    ¡°Yeah. But, because of how paranoid your mom has been, I¡¯d give it at least another half-hour.¡± Amy rolled her eyes at the delay as well, but she seemed to not be as bothered as Albert was by it. ¡°In the meantime, tell me about this spaciness you mentioned. I don¡¯t think you should be going into arbitration if you¡¯re spacing out and losing track of time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that, exactly. It¡¯s like.¡± Albert paused trying to put the right words together in his head. But the longer he took, the closer he felt he was to slipping into a spaced out episode. ¡°It¡¯s like whenever I stop to think, if I can¡¯t focus on something that isn¡¯t in my head, I just get lost until someone snaps me out of it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not that bad then. I don¡¯t see that making arbitration any harder¡­ unless the half-dead you need to sign just refuses to talk or move.¡± Amy put her hand to her chin and bit her lip in contemplation. Something told Albert that the silent treatment was probably more of a common response to someone being told they were dead than she wanted to admit. ¡°Do you have any kind of indication when it¡¯s about to happen?¡±


    ¡°Not really. I can guess pretty well. But apart from that, I could be in the middle of a sentence, be at a loss for words, and it could be an hour later.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t really want to admit how bad it was, but it was better that Amy knew. Lying to her would be like lying to a doctor about taking any sort of drug and then getting a treatment that reacted badly to the drug you had taken. She was his lifeline and it would be better it she knew everything.


    ¡°But,¡± Albert sputtered out, remembering what it was like while he¡¯d been reading notes, ¡°reading doesn¡¯t make me space out. That whole time I was reading notes, I was not spaced out at all. I think it happened a bit while I was watching TV earlier today too, but not as much.¡±


    ¡°That should make it a little safer then. I can get you a book to read in case you get a silent half-dead.¡±


    The solution was unexpected. But, if it worked Albert wouldn¡¯t complain. He didn¡¯t do a lot of reading, but he certainly wasn¡¯t opposed.


    ¡°I just hope you can stay focused while keeping an eye out. I really shouldn''t have the glasses on or contacts in while I¡¯m driving.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You shouldn¡¯t do that.¡±


    Albert remembered the sensation of seeing the world around him move at different rates where the assistance of the glasses ended. Experiencing that while driving was sure to result in some sort of car accident. And now that he thought about it, if he was on the lookout in a moving car, it was very likely he''d get some kind of motion sickness if he wasn''t careful.

 Chapter Eleven: The Stench of Death

    Albert¡¯s fears about being in a car accident while Amy drove turned out to be completely unfounded. She was an extremely cautious driver and handled the sedan they were in expertly. Albert wagered that she probably could drive while experiencing that visual distortion from the glasses and be just fine; or at the very least, still be as good as any other driver he¡¯d been in a car with. Her only likely reason for not doing that was to save herself the effort and possible headache. But, in a pinch... Albert didn''t feel unsafe.


    ¡°So, did you have to spend money out of the arbitration fund to rent this car?¡± The thought had been on Albert¡¯s mind since she had directed him to the vehicle.


    It was a newer model four door sedan, tan in color, and it was entirely boring to look at. One could easily imagine leaving it in a parking lot and not being to find it again because of how innocuous it was. Albert figured that was intentional. Most rental cars he had ever been in either looked really flashy or were extremely nondescript. This was one of those nondescript ones.


    ¡°No, I took it out of my personal funds. Mostly because I don¡¯t like walking everywhere. I figure it¡¯s a luxury for me more than you, since I¡¯d be the one complaining about it.¡±


    __________


    They had gone downtown. Amy had picked the location and stated that starting in the middle of the busier shopping districts gave them the best odds. She had also given Albert her glasses again to spot any wandering spirits, but Albert hadn¡¯t seen anything. It was still earlier in the day than when they had gone out before as well, so Albert felt that had something to do with it. But then Amy started driving through poorer neighborhoods and shopping districts on the outskirts of the downtown area. Albert didn¡¯t like the implications that crossed his mind, but didn¡¯t question Amy¡¯s judgement either. If he let himself get carried away thinking things over too much, he¡¯d lose focus and they¡¯d have to go through an area again.


    That had already happened twice. And it was embarrassing both times.


    ¡°This might be easier if we go on foot through a few places.¡± Amy sighed as Albert signaled again that he wasn¡¯t seeing anything out of the ordinary. ¡°Is there a hospital down on this side of town?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s¡­ two now I think. Used to be three.¡± Albert pointed towards a direction of the downtown area he was familiar with. It had been a long time since he¡¯d been to one of the hospitals, since the last time he¡¯d gotten a vaccination required for elementary school, actually, but he still mostly remembered the way.


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re going to go wander one.¡± Amy made a turn in the direction Albert had pointed and went silent again.


    It wasn¡¯t until they had parked in a slightly sketchy lot by the one hospital that Amy actually turned to address Albert directly.


    ¡°So, we may find a lot of spirits in there. But most of them will be very weak, and probably of old people. Those ones will be harder to get to sign a contract. Old people are more irritable than younger people, and they don¡¯t like being told what to do. As an extra frustration, their spirits will look like how old they feel and not necessarily how old they really are. So we could be guessing a lot.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so we¡¯re looking for younger dead people.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And there might not be any.¡± Amy was about to leave the car when she thought better of it and turned back to Albert. ¡°Also, don¡¯t make eye contact with any of them. If you let them know you can see them, they¡¯ll just get in the way. So you might have to walk through some spirits.¡±


    Albert cringed at the thought of walking through a dead person. It wasn¡¯t a creepy concept the way people reacted to it in movies when they passed through a ghost or something, but it was more¡­ gross. Albert wasn¡¯t thrilled about getting in a dead persons personal space either.


    Amy got out of the car and went around to the back seat where she had stashed her backpack and pulled it over her shoulder. Before she got it on all the way, she pulled her contacts case out of one of the side pockets and carefully put both contacts in.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ve got about three hours. Hopefully it won¡¯t take that long, and ideally we won¡¯t wander for that long either. Actually, I think I¡¯ll set a timer for two hours and we¡¯ll call it then.¡± Amy pulled back her sleeve and pushed some buttons on a wristwatch that Albert hadn''t noticed she had on her wrist¡ªone of those super cheap electronic ones that could take a hit from a brick and be just fine. She wore the watch with the face on the inside of her wrist too, which gave Albert an even bigger impression of a military background than he''d had before.


    Albert scrambled out of the car and had to walk quickly to catch up with Amy as she walked away. There was still a dull pain in all of his cuts and scrapes, particularly at his knees, but Albert managed to keep up easily enough after the initial scramble. Amy seemed particularly eager to get into the hospital, though she also looked uncomfortable as they crossed the street and made their way through one of the main entrances to the building.


    Stolen story; please report.


    As soon as they were in the building, the colors coming through the glasses shifted. The green tint became more of a yellow tint and the people at desks and sitting in waiting areas had a blue hue to them that Albert didn¡¯t think was normal. Even Amy had a blue tint to her.


    ¡°Amy,¡± Albert whispered in a hiss as he struggled again to keep up with her, ¡°Why does everything look different in here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the constant presence of spirits.¡± Amy whispered back, finally slowing once they made it past the reception desk with a nod and a smile. ¡°They appear and dissipate here so often that they leave residue that stains the entire building. It¡¯s like walking through the inside of a neon light. If you notice anything that¡¯s particularly weirdly colored, try not to touch it.¡±


    As Amy said that they passed a nurse who was emitting a blue-ish white aura.


    ¡°Like her.¡± Amy nodded to the nurse. ¡°She¡¯s not dead, so she must be a long time employee to have a tint like that.¡±


    ¡°How can you tell that she¡¯s not dead?¡±


    ¡°Because I could smell her. Spirits don¡¯t smell like anything, and in a hospital, everyone smells like something¡­ usually a cleaner or some kind of sterilizing solution.¡±


    Albert picked up on the smell immediately. It was more of a faint lingering odor, but as soon as they passed another member of the hospital staff he got another strong whiff of cleaner. It made him a little nauseous to pay attention to, but if it meant being more likely to pick up on if someone was a spirit he¡¯d be willing to suffer.


    Not very far into the halls of the hospital, they saw their first spirit. It was a middle aged looking man in a hospital gown. He looked to have a very similar tint to everyone else, but he was definitely out of place. He was shouting for a nurse and not getting any attention. Albert made an effort not to make eye contact as they approached. He followed Amy¡¯s lead and looked dead ahead, until Amy veered to the side of the hallway and slammed her side into the man. Rather than go flying back, as Albert had seen happen when Amy attacked Arnie, the man dispersed into a cloud of yellow mist.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one.¡± Amy sighed, waving a hand in front of her face to try and avoid breathing any of the mist in.


    ¡°Was he¡­?¡± Albert couldn¡¯t form the words he was thinking.


    ¡°He was either very weak when he died, or he¡¯s been here a long time.¡± Amy nodded as she answered. ¡°That¡¯s what it looks like when a spirit is forced to dissipate.¡±


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll remember that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t freak out on me, Albert.¡± Amy turned to glare at Albert with a mildly disappointed look. ¡°Most spirits dissipate anyway. Stress testing them either means they suffer in the in-between stage less, or they survive and you can try and make a deal with them. Try not to think about it too much.¡±


    Albert had to actively distract himself from being overcome with thoughts about what it felt like to dissipate. He¡¯d almost done it himself before he made his deal with Death. It had to be painful. Albert remembered trying to fight against Death, and that alone had been painful. He knew spirits could feel things like pain and fear, because he had been a spirit; even if just for a short time. He had still experienced a lot.


    Further wandering found more spirits, all meeting the same fate as the first. Amy made an offhand comment about how hospitals were typically not a great place to make deals, unless they were visited and cleared out regularly. Albert didn¡¯t like the implication of someone like Death maintaining the spirits of a place like a hospital and turning it into something like a soul farm. But Amy was letting on that that wasn¡¯t unheard of. The longer they went without finding a sturdy soul, the less Albert wanted to hear Amy¡¯s comments.


    After about an hour, Amy had shoved six spirits into mist and they had been asked to leave by two different nurses. That didn¡¯t actually stop them from moving to a different part of the hospital though. It was a big building and almost every floor had patients. Some floors didn¡¯t have anyone seriously ill or at risk of dying, and Amy explicitly avoided the obstetrics wing. Albert didn¡¯t blame her. That was the last sort of spirit he wanted to encounter and he felt the same cringe of sorrow that he saw slip past Amy''s facade every time they past a sign or marker leading to that side of the hospital.


    Albert was starting to worry that the timer on Amy¡¯s watch would go off before they found a spirit that wasn¡¯t too weak. But before it could, Albert passed by a nurse with an almost luminous blue aura around her. She didn¡¯t smell like cleaner though, which Albert almost didn¡¯t notice. Albert nudged Amy and tilted his head to the nurse, which garnered a raised eyebrow and a surprised nod. Amy made a subtle turn back around and shoulder checked the nurse. She didn¡¯t turn into a mist, and for a moment Albert was worried that it was just a normal nurse. But when she tried to catch herself against the wall, her hand passed right through it.


    Albert watched as Amy pulled the feather pen from a pocked and jabbed it into the spirit¡¯s side before she could fully recover. Amy nodded towards a closed custodial closet and Albert followed her into the cramped space. For a moment, Albert thought about the stereotype of medical students sneaking into custodial closets. The thought was quickly dispelled by Amy thrusting the folder full of contracts and the ink well into his hands.


    ¡°Do you have a plan for her? She looked pretty worn out, so I think a notoriety contract might work.¡±


    Albert vaguely remembered the notoriety form. He¡¯d only glanced at it for a little bit while picking out the five that he thought would be most effective the last time. He flipped through the pages again and found it. The main exchange was that the contractee would be remembered for a significant advancement or deed after their passing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see, I guess. I¡¯ll keep notoriety, material trade, parting farewell, and with prejudice on top. Those seem likely.¡±


    ¡°With prejudice? Really?¡±


    ¡°She looked pretty miserable. If I was that miserable I wouldn¡¯t want people to remember me. But I guess it could go either way. Really depends on why she works so hard.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Amy held out the pen. ¡°It¡¯s going to suck. You¡¯re going to have a hard time. Good luck.¡±


    ¡°Right. This is going to suck. It''s going to be hard.¡±


    Albert let the advice sink back in before taking the pen.

 Chapter Twelve: Resuscitation

    ¡°Please, take a seat.¡±


    Albert was able to gain focus more quickly upon entering the arbitration room this time. Both he and the nurse were standing. Everything else in the ¡®room¡¯ looked the same as the last time he had been there. Assuming it was the same space, of course. Albert had no clue what the arbitration room actually was, just that it was a nice contained space where he wouldn¡¯t be interrupted.


    ¡°What did you do to me? That girl that knocked me over stuck me with something. Was that ketamine? Where am I?¡± The nurse''s demeanor had changed drastically from the brief aimless trudge Albert had seen her doing before Amy had forced her into the arbitration room.


    ¡°Take a seat and we can discuss your situation.¡± Albert tried to be relaxed, but the woman¡¯s attitude was making him nervous.


    Even as he sat down, the woman continued to berate him with questions.


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything until you tell me why you abducted me. Is this some sort of prank? Are you one of those idiot kids on the internet that gets their rocks off pranking random people? So help me, I will¡­¡± the woman took a deep breath, visibly attempting to calm herself down. ¡°How do I get out of here?¡±


    Albert let her take in the room around her for a moment, careful to keep focused on her and not let his mind wander. She seemed to both calm down and panic in a different way as she took in the seemingly impossible space.


    ¡°Unfortunately, there is no way for you to leave this space without working with me. I haven¡¯t kidnapped you, and this is not a prank.¡± Albert took a deep breath. ¡°I take no pleasure in being the one to inform you of this, but you have died.¡±


    The woman glared at him but didn¡¯t say anything. She didn¡¯t sit down either. It was difficult to read her, and Albert wasn¡¯t exactly sure where to go from there without any input from her side of things.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve thought about what comes next, given your previous line of work. This is it. I work for Death, and I¡¯ve come to collect your soul on his behalf.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The woman¡¯s response was abrupt, but at least it was something to go off of.


    ¡°I understand that this can be a lot to take in, so I will give you some time to ponder on your options. But I would like to be clear that you have a very limited amount of time before you waste the time you have left to influence the living world.¡±


    ¡°What options? Dead¡¯s pretty absolute from my experience. Not to mention I¡¯m not dead.¡±


    ¡°That is the hardest part to accept, isn¡¯t it. You look pretty worn out. Exhaustion can kill, you should know that. Maybe a few too many caffeine pills, maybe something stronger¡­ doesn¡¯t take much to harm the body. Over a long period of time that can stack up.¡± Albert was guessing based on what he''d seen on TV dramas, but he seemed to be getting something right based on her expression. ¡°You¡¯re dead. But I¡¯m not. I can arrange a few different things for you before you go. I can arrange for you to leave a message for loved ones, pay off some debts, arrange for your death to serve a greater purpose through organ donation or medical discovery, or I can erase your life if that is something more to your liking¡­¡±


    ¡°What if I just want to die.¡± The woman¡¯s expression had turned darker.


    ¡°I have a contract for that as well, but I¡¯ll need you to sign it in order for you to leave here on your own terms.¡± Albert was being very careful with how he was phrasing the exchange. He had learned from the last arbitration that the idea of selling your own soul was probably never a good idea.


    ¡°Why do I have to sign? Why the time limit?¡±


    ¡°Well, you can sign and have your soul be useful in its passing, or you can wait around for it to dissipate into more of the toxic spiritual mist that¡¯s infected the hospital. I wager it only makes the depressing and nauseating feeling you get when you walk in all the worse. But that¡¯s a guess on my part, I¡¯ve never been in a place so overpowered by the taint of death and abandoned spirits.¡±


    The woman paused before taking a seat. Her movements were slow, which made Albert nervous. She might have been closer to dissipating than he thought. Albert quickly rifled through his folder and retrieved the contract labeled ¡®no condition.¡¯ He pushed the paper over to the woman along with the ink pot and handed her the pen.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Sign here and you¡¯ll be dead.Your soul counted and collected. No nonsense.¡± Albert tapped the bottom of the paper where there was a line for a signature.


    The woman dipped the pen into the ink well, scraped the edge against the paper, forming the first two letters of her name, then stopped. Her face contorted in pain. And then, in a slightly more horrific display than Albert had yet to see, a fountain of blue mist cascaded from the woman¡¯s mouth before her form burst into a cloud of mist.


    Suddenly Albert was back in the custodial closet with Amy and the things that had been left on the table in the arbitration room were scattered on the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Albert slammed his fist against an empty space on the closest shelf.


    ¡°I take it things didn¡¯t go well?¡±


    ¡°She dissipated while signing.¡± Albert growled. ¡°Or something else happened. She vomited mist out and then went poof.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± Amy sounded more surprised than upset. ¡°That¡¯s a new one for me. Not the mid signature thing, that happens. The vomiting mist part is new.¡±


    A gentle beep sounded in the closet, directing Amy to lift her wrist and check her watch.


    ¡°And like that, we¡¯re out of time.¡± Amy pressed a button and the watch went silent.


    Albert crouched down to gather the scattered papers back into the folder and the now half empty ink well. There was a puddle of spilled ink on the floor, but Albert didn¡¯t care. He had gotten so closed to being done with his contract, the mess seemed like such a stupid thing to worry about.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Albert huffed as he pushed the materials back into Amy¡¯s hands. He was met with an unconcerned shrug and the two made their way back out of the maze of hallways.


    Right at the elevator on the floor they were leaving, there was an older man fumbling along the hall. He had a violet tint to him, something Albert hadn¡¯t really seen before. And as he passed the man, he didn¡¯t smell anything either. Rather than carry on and ignore the spirit, Albert turned and caught the man around the throat with his arm. Without exerting much pressure at all, the spirit popped into a small purple cloud of mist.


    The outburst caused Amy to raise an eyebrow, but she didn¡¯t say anything. She just pressed the button to call the elevator and stepped inside when the doors opened. Albert felt bad immediately. He didn¡¯t know what came over him, but he was so angry. He couldn¡¯t think of a time in his life when something, even something important, had made him feel this upset. Rage was not a familiar feeling for Albert, but this was definitely rage. He slumped against the side of the elevator and dropped his face into his hands and took deep breaths until they were back on the ground level.


    The walk back to the car was equally silent and awkward. It wasn¡¯t until the engine was running and they were both buckled in that Amy actually spoke up.


    ¡°It never helps.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Violence. It never helps get the feelings out. It just makes you feel worse. You need to talk about it, or it¡¯s going to sit in you until something else makes it worse and you have to talk about that.¡±


    Albert was stunned by the advice. Not because it was shocking or new to him, he had had similar talks with his mother and school councilors about dealing with other emotional struggles. But it was shocking because it came from Amy. Amy who seemed impervious to feeling, who lied like it was the truth, and who seemed tough as nails.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk now. But I don¡¯t know who else you could talk to besides me¡­ unless you wanted to talk to someone else that works for Death. But I wouldn¡¯t advise that.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Albert could tell he was on the verge of zoning out as the car started moving. ¡°When we get back, could you stick around? I don¡¯t know if I even want to talk about this, but¡­ you know. Just in case I do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Amy was focusing on the road now, but her voice was gentle in a genuine way that it hadn¡¯t been before. ¡°I should leave before your mom gets back though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to¡­ I¡¯m going to zone out.¡±


    Albert closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He tried to avoid thinking about the woman that had dissipated in from of him, or the older man he had forced into dissipation. But their faces lingered in his mind. Even if he hadn¡¯t a made a point to remember them. And then Arnie came up in his train of thought and weighed his mind down further. By the time the car stopped and Amy gave him a shake on the arm, it was well after dark and he felt awful.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re hungry? Most people of halfway measures don¡¯t eat much, for some reason. But that can change.¡±


    Albert thought about it before shaking his head. He hadn¡¯t really eaten all day. He¡¯d chewed and swallowed bits of the food his mom had made for him, but it could hardly be considered eating. Given Amy¡¯s comment, Albert figured he was one of those ones that didn¡¯t eat.


    ¡°Do you eat?¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t eat. I mean, I can. But I don¡¯t.¡±


    Amy had gotten out of the car and come around to the other side of the car to, Albert thought, help him out on his side. But when he held out his hand, she sighed and pulled the glasses off his face. Maybe it was because she had offered to let him talk about his problems, but something had made him think she was going to open up for him. That was clearly not the case.


    Albert followed Amy back up to his apartment, taking the stairs slowly to make up for the pain in his knees. When he finally reached the apartment door, he handed the key to Amy; as his hands were still shaking and she looked mildly impatient. Albert made a break for the couch immediately, and Amy took her normal spot on the floor leaning against the couch. It almost felt normal.

 Chapter Thirteen: Sneaking Suspicion

    They didn''t talk. Albert had taken his place on the couch, laid back, and let his mind torment him for what felt like seconds. It must have been longer though, because Amy left shortly after. It was an unceremonious exit. A bit of eye contact, a nod, and she left. It was a kind gesture all things considered, and it fit with her distant personality. Albert wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d be able to talk about how he was really feeling, but Amy was right. He needed to get those feelings out of his head and into a place where they could be understood, but that wasn¡¯t going to happen alone.


    When his mother got back from work, Albert pretended to be asleep on the couch. He could hear her quietly looking through various rooms in the apartment, probably checking to see if Amy was there. But she didn¡¯t bother Albert directly. Once she went into her room and the apartment was relatively quiet again, Albert opened his eyes to be be alone with his thoughts.


    Why was he so angry? He wasn¡¯t as angry as he had been immediately after his failed the arbitration, but he was still¡­ it wasn¡¯t quite anger anymore. It was more like frustration. Frustration that he was in this mess at all in the first place, that some invisible thing that he couldn¡¯t even see or know what it was had caused him to be targeted by Death. That he had to work with Death at all to avoid his own death, when it was clearly Death¡¯s fault that he had been killed. That he had to do this work that felt so wrong in so many ways to survive. That he had gotten so close to being done with this all, so close¡­ and then it had been taken away from him. And lastly, frustration that he had lost control of himself. Not just his life and the circumstances he was forced to work with, but he had lost control of his own actions and forced a dead man¡¯s spirit to burst into mist and lose even the most minuscule chance of giving him some last recourse.


    The more Albert thought about what it was that bothered him about collecting souls, the more he realized that it wasn¡¯t the work itself that made him uncomfortable. He knew it wouldn¡¯t be feasible to give anyone else the sort of deal he had gotten. In fact, he didn¡¯t necessarily think he deserved the deal he was working under that let him stay alive. It was Death¡¯s fault that he had been killed, and so Albert felt that Death was obligated to make that up to him. But that didn¡¯t mean that meddling with the balance of life and death for anyone was right. It was against the way the world worked, it was going against nature.


    Giving people the option of righting wrongs or saying a farewell to loved ones felt right though. Forcing dissipation still felt wrong, but Albert hadn¡¯t ever really condoned that. Amy had reasons why that didn¡¯t bother her, he was sure, but Albert knew it wasn¡¯t something he ever wanted to do again. But the work of helping departing souls make some peace with their lost lives seemed almost noble. But it could be very easily misused if it was done with the wrong attitude or by the wrong person. Albert didn¡¯t exactly consider himself the right person, but he wasn¡¯t sure he was the wrong sort of person either. As he thought about it, the idea of who was or wasn¡¯t the right sort of person to help departing souls became a very nuanced problem in his mind.


    Rather than focus on the mess that his train of thought had become, Albert willed himself to attention. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure if it had worked, when he snapped open his eyes and everything seemed blurry. But as his vision focused and he could make out the microwave clock in the kitchen, he felt better about his level of awareness. The time he had spent in thought hadn¡¯t felt short, at least not as short as it had in the past. It was almost like he had gone out of focus without losing any time. The clock told him it was 5 AM, and that didn¡¯t feel wrong. It was still far earlier than Albert ever woke up, but it wasn¡¯t unreasonable. When his mother was called in for an early shift at work, she would often wake up at 5. But Albert couldn¡¯t hear any movement from his mother¡¯s room.


    Rather than resume thinking about any of the things that were bothering him directly, Albert picked up one of the spiral notebooks that Amy had left on the floor and started to make a list. Thinking directly about the things that were bothering him was complicated; Albert didn¡¯t have all the answers, or really any answers at all. But Amy knew some of the things that he didn¡¯t that could help him process his situation better. Albert started with things that had been bothering him the longest and moved towards the most recent. By the time his mother got out of her room he had five questions written down that he was determined to ask Amy. He had been careful to avoid anything pertaining directly to Amy, since those questions would likely go unanswered. It wasn¡¯t exactly five questions either, some of them were split up into multiple parts. Rather than keep going with his mother potentially reading over his shoulder at any time, Albert kept it at just the five.


    1a) What is spiritual property?


    1b) What spiritual property do I have?


    1c) What does Death want with my spiritual property?


    2) What happens to a spirit when it dissipates?


    3) What does Death do with the souls he collects?


    4) Are there other beings out there like Death?


    5a) Why does my body react to successful arbitration the way it does?


    5b) Is that normal and/or safe?


    ¡°How are you feeling today, Albert?¡±


    He quickly closed the notebook and dropped it back into the small pile of school supplies.


    ¡°I think¡­ I think I¡¯m feeling better. I woke up kind of early, but I think I actually slept okay.¡±


    Albert flipped his legs over the side of the couch and put some pressure on them. He had walked around for a few hours on them yesterday, so he knew he could definitely walk just fine, but there was still some dull pain. Albert had to actually focus to feel the stretching sensation he had felt the day before. It was becoming more and more faint.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m good enough to get back to school.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Albert¡¯s mom stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and frowned at Albert. ¡°Your knees are still scabbed up and your face still has glue on it. Do you think you¡¯ll be comfortable enough sitting at desks all day?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be okay. Though¡­ maybe I should get the glue off my face so I don¡¯t get made fun of.¡±


    Albert got up and made his way over to the kitchen area to demonstrate that he was fine walking around. His mother didn¡¯t look convinced, but pulled the glue solvent out from the kitchen cabinet where the rest of the first aid supplies were and handed it to him.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Albert smiled and took the solvent back to his room and gathered a change of clothes and towel to bring to the bathroom.


    After cleaning up, Albert actually felt much better. The solvent stung on his face, but it wasn¡¯t too hard to get the glue off. The scrapes and other injuries that Albert had been changing the bandages for had started closing up more quickly the day before, which Albert had figured was part of the changes that happened after the first successful arbitration. But the glued cuts still stung a little as they dried out. They would probably need more time without the glue on them to actually heal, his mom had said it usually takes a week for the glue to come off by itself and the cuts were usually gone by then. With whatever was going on with him, Albert had no idea what to expect timeline wise, but he hoped his mother wouldn¡¯t get suspicious if he healed too quickly. He might have to keep bandages on his hands and knees for a while just to make sure she didn¡¯t figure anything out.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Albert did his best to act like nothing had changed since the last time he left to go to school as he made his way out. He didn¡¯t want his mom to worry, but the act seemed to make her nervous. He wasn¡¯t sure what she was picking up on, but he could tell that she knew something was wrong.


    ¡°Albert.¡± His mom stopped him at the door to the apartment. ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll be safe today.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I promise.¡± Albert sighed.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be able to keep that promise, but he definitely didn¡¯t plan on doing anything dangerous. Besides, Amy would be there and Albert had a good feeling that she would make sure he stayed safe. Or at the very least, she¡¯d keep track of him. But who knew, there was still a lot about Amy that remained a mystery to Albert.


    It wasn¡¯t until Albert had promised that, that his mom let him out the door. She still looked worried, but as he closed the door behind him he felt better about her worries. Or rather, he felt reassured that she was satisfied that he wouldn¡¯t do anything stupid. It was a strange feeling.


    It felt stranger to make his way to school.


    Albert took the most direct route to his high school, doing his best to avoid the street he had died on and staying to the main roads. Or, at least that had been his plan.


    As soon as Albert was around the corner of the block his apartment complex was on, he saw Amy¡¯s car. It was idling on the other side of the street in a parking space, windows down. Amy was looking directly at him, and as soon as she had his attention she tilted her head and motioned for him to get in the car. Albert crossed the street at the nearest crosswalk, incredibly aware of the slightest danger that faced him from passing cars, and climbed into the car.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to¡­ you know, do this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s faster¡­ and I figured I should warn you about some things.¡± Amy pulled the car back out into the road and started the short drive to the school. ¡°Mostly that someone else that works with Death has decided to take an interest in your case and you might run into them at school. I put that private contact only addendum in your file, which wasn¡¯t difficult or anything¡ªthere were no objections at least¡ªbut I think it might have gotten you some unwanted attention.¡±


    ¡°Who should I be on the lookout for then?¡± Albert was nervous again for a whole new reason. He probably wasn¡¯t going to get a chance to get to his list of questions for a while if new things kept popping up.


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ well she looks about your age, like I do. Little shorter, dark brown curly hair, and dresses like she stole her parent¡¯s credit card.¡±


    ¡°She sounds obnoxious.¡± Albert rolled his eyes at the description. He could tell there was some prejudice and that was what really made him uncomfortable. He didn¡¯t want the only person who seemed interested in helping him being distracted or obstructed by a workplace rival.


    ¡°Her name is Hope, and she is very obnoxious.¡± Albert could hear the disgust in Amy¡¯s voice loud and clear. ¡°She doesn¡¯t get out much, but she¡¯s Death¡¯s primary arbitrator.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little ironic¡­ that her name is Hope, I mean.¡± Albert was more caught up on that than her position working for Death. He still had no clue how many people actually worked with Death, or what kind of jobs they had, so he had no scale of how important that role was.


    ¡°I guess. Don¡¯t tell her that, though. She doesn¡¯t like jokes. Or anything fun.¡± Amy sighed. ¡°Or better yet, just avoid her. That¡¯s probably what¡¯s best for you.¡±


    Amy pulled into the high school parking lot as she finished talking, leaving Albert hanging for any other information he was hoping to get.


    ¡°Hey, I want to talk to you about some things today. Not really feelings things, but I made a list of questions that I think would help me with the feelings thing.¡±


    ¡°Okay. We can get to those.¡± Amy got out of the car and did a quick sweep of the parking lot and the other students making their way towards the school buildings. ¡°We have the same lunch break, we can talk then. I did some looking around and there are a few quiet spots where we can talk.¡±


    ¡°Right. We can talk during lunch then.¡± Albert nodded.


    He was still nervous about whoever this Hope girl was. But he made his way to his first class, wary of Amy as she trailed him. He didn¡¯t exactly expect her to follow him into the classroom, but she did. She sat across the room at one of the desks that was always empty and eyed every other student that walked in the room. She looked immediately out of place, not bothering to put up her friendly and gentle facade. Albert didn¡¯t see any other new faces though, and as the bell rang to signal the beginning of class, he grew more and more aware of all the attention he was getting from his classmates. He was usually ignored, but now he was catching sideways glances from people he never talked to and even the teacher was giving him a strangely worried look. It crossed his mind that people might think he was the victim of abuse because of the bandages on his hands and the bruises on his face. But there was also the possibility that people were just curious about him and what had happened that made him miss two days of school. It was really only the other kids that sat around him who he usually ended up doing group work with or chatting idly with that gave him the respect of not eyeing him like he was a freak. But even they were acting strange and not initiating any conversation in his direction.


    Albert could hardly focus through the class. He had started spacing out during any lull or quiet time and was losing track of what was going on in class very easily. It was unfortunate, because Albert wanted nothing more than to be in his head the whole time so that he would be the only person aware of himself. But the teacher giving a lecture and the sporadic chatting of his classmates always snapped him out of his thoughts. The first few times it happened, Albert jolted to alertness and gained more unwanted attention. By the end of class, Albert had a notebook with essentially gibberish on it, severe paranoia that he was constantly being watched, and a powerful desire not to be there anymore.


    After the bell rang again, and as everyone filed out and made their way to their next classes, Amy bumped into him and pushed him into a small nook between two sections of lockers on the side of the hallway just outside the classroom.


    ¡°You look like crap. You doin okay?¡± She didn¡¯t exactly sound sympathetic, but she clearly cared to some degree.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to be able to do anything while my head is still scrambled like this and everyone keeps looking at me and I just about jump out of my seat every time something pulls me out of my head.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That sounds about right.¡±


    ¡°Why did you think this was a good idea?¡±


    ¡°Because getting you out of the apartment more means less things of your mom to be suspicious of and more time we can spend looking for a soul for you to contract.¡± Amy looked around and noticed two girls getting books out of their locker across the hall that had stopped to look at the two of them. ¡°But you might be right. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to do well with the constant attention. I also highly doubt there will be any dead people here.¡±


    Amy tilted her head to signal that they should make their way out of the hall and towards the doors out of the building. Albert followed her lead and stayed close to her so they wouldn¡¯t be separated by the crowds of students.


    There were four main buildings that made up the school campus and there were classes held in each of them as well as converted trailers in one of the back parking lots where some of the less popular classes were held; the students called those trailers ¡®portables,¡¯ and they were universally reviled for their lack of air conditioning. It wasn¡¯t strange at all for students to have to move between classes or even across the entire campus between periods, and some students even made stops at their cars between classes to keep their backpacks light and avoid clutter at lockers. There was a flow of students that went in all of the common directions, into and out of every main door. But Amy was leading Albert back to the back parking lot where the portables were.


    When the river of students finally thinned out and Albert felt safe talking out loud again he tried to stop and interrupt Amy, but she pulled him along.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± Amy grunted.


    She was pulling him to the back fence of the campus that backed up to the baseball fields the school used for varsity sports. Beyond that there was just neighborhoods and small businesses.


    Albert didn¡¯t stop Amy as she forced open an obviously unused fence gate and waved for him to follow her through it. Rather than go through the fields, Amy directed him to walk along the fence and towards the nearest street that led into the residential area. Albert just went with it, glad to be away from so many watchful eyes. He was mildly surprised when Amy led him through a few small neighborhood streets, down the sidewalk of a slightly busier area, and to a quiet park.


    There was no one to be seen in the entire park, at least not from where they stood. It was just long green grass and big oak trees with the occasional bench. Albert vaguely remembered the park, but he was curious how Amy knew about it. It wasn¡¯t exactly a well known attraction for the town. Moreover, the town wasn¡¯t exactly a tourist hot spot either and didn''t have a lot in the way of available information about nice locales.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea to help you talk some things over. Follow me.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen: Games of Strategy and Games of Chance

    ¡°Here, sit down.¡±


    Amy had directed Albert to a round stone table just off one of the paths that ran around the perimeter of the park. It almost looked like a flattened marble birdbath, and it definitely looked like it had been a chosen perch for some local avian wildlife. There was a checkerboard in the middle of the table, but Albert couldn¡¯t see much else of significance or why they were sitting across from each other there instead of on one of the more comfortable looking park benches.


    ¡°Have you played chess before?¡± Amy was rifling through her backpack with her back turned to Albert, but sounded a little excited. At least, as excited as Albert had ever heard her.


    ¡°I think. Maybe?¡±


    Albert rolled his eyes as Amy produced a worn out wooden box roughly the length of her forearm and not much wider. As she opened it and laid it flat on the table, she revealed a set of what looked like very well carved chess pieces. As Amy slowly set them out on the table, she gave Albert a cautious and assessing look.


    ¡°I think this will help you focus a little. You need to pay very close attention during chess, even when you are not making a move. To win, you need to spread your awareness out over the entire board. But it is also fun, and you definitely don¡¯t need to win to have fun. I learned that a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°If you think it will help, I¡¯ll give it a shot.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Brief overview then.¡± Amy gestured to the pieces as they sat on the board. ¡°I am playing the black side, you have the white side.¡±


    Albert took note of the color of the pieces. It was a little harder to tell what the distinctions between the natural wood tones were, but her pieces were clearly a darker wood than his.


    ¡°These are pawns.¡± Amy gestured to the front row of both of their pieces. ¡°They move forward one square at a time, and they can only capture other pieces that are directly diagonal to them and forward.¡±


    Amy moved around an arrangement of pawns in the middle of the board to demonstrate.


    ¡°These are the major and minor pieces.¡± Amy indicated to the back row of each side of the board as she reset from her demonstration. ¡°They move differently, but they¡¯re pretty much as valuable as any other piece on the board¡­ except the king.¡±


    Amy quickly ran through the rest of the pieces. Rook, knight, bishop, queen, king. She showed Albert how they moved and how they captured other pieces. Albert did his best to pay attention, but he wasn¡¯t exactly invested yet. Chess had always seemed like more of a snobs sort of game, and he wasn¡¯t interested in taking a game so seriously that he was willing to actually study it.


    ¡°The white side always goes first.¡± Amy gestured to Albert as she announced it.


    ¡°So I can move any of these pawns¡­ or a knight?¡±


    ¡°Yes, knights can move past pawns.¡±


    Albert moved a knight forward. Amy moved a pawn two space forward.


    ¡°I thought pawns could only move one space at a time?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. The first move a pawn makes can either be one square or you can do what I call a charge and move it forward two spaces. It can actually capture another piece if moves over it in the process. It¡¯s called en-passant when that happens. It¡¯s just french for ¡®in passing,¡¯ but you probably won¡¯t have to worry about that. That¡¯s sort of a higher level thing that usually only happens in competitive gameplay.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Albert grumbled. He took note of the very clear french pronunciation of the chess term as well. She sounded like she knew what she was saying and the pronunciation sounded elegant.


    Amy definitely knew a lot about chess. Albert was a little more invested seeing how eager Amy was to play. It was probably about as close as he would get to actually learning anything about her.


    Albert moved a pawn at random. Amy moved another pawn, this time only space. Albert was slowly becoming more and more invested in the game, and as they went turn for turn, Albert occasionally asking a question. Every now and then Amy would get a slightly confused or concerned expression, which Albert took to mean he was probably playing badly or wasn¡¯t making sense. It was almost like something was bothering her.


    When Albert moved a rook next to Amy¡¯s king and announced check, he wasn¡¯t exactly sure what he was going to do after that, but was completely startled when Amy stood up and took a step back over the small curved stone bench that she¡¯d been sitting on.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s checkmate, Albert.¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh, cool, what move are you about to do for that?¡±


    ¡°No, I mean you just won.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Albert was more confused now, but then took another careful look around the board. ¡°Can¡¯t your king take the rook?¡±


    ¡°The king can¡¯t put itself into check. You have a bishop watching the rook. I can¡¯t do anything about that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I forgot about him. And you can''t move... to a diagonal because of the knight there...¡±


    ¡°Reset. I need to see something.¡±


    Albert started to reset his pieces as Amy sat back down and did the same. They started again, but as Albert was about to make his second move Amy stopped him.


    ¡°I want you to really focus and think about all your moves this time. Don¡¯t do anything until you¡¯ve considered all the possible options for the piece you want to move.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Albert was a little confused by the instruction, but carried on.


    The rest of the game moved much more slowly, as Albert took a few minutes each turn while Amy took about half as long. It wasn¡¯t more than a couple turns in when Amy announced checkmate though.


    ¡°What about this bishop?¡± Albert indicated his one remaining bishop and the line it had to take out the knight that was checking his king.


    ¡°My bishop is lined up on your king too. If you move yours, mine gets check, and you can¡¯t put your own king in check.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I guess I lose then.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Reset.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell me what that was about?¡±


    ¡°Eh, it¡¯s not important. I was wrong.¡± Amy waved off the question and started to reset her side of the board. ¡°What were your questions? You said you wrote some down when we were in the car.¡±


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure how to take her dismissal, but the chance to get some questions answered seemed more important. He pulled the notebook out of his backpack and opened it to the page he¡¯d written the questions down on.


    ¡°Okay. First question has three parts. To start off with, what¡¯s spiritual property?¡± Albert moved a pawn on the board absently to start the next game. Amy was clearly more interested in chess. But if she was willing to talk while playing, that was fine too.


    ¡°Oh, where¡¯d you hear that one? I don¡¯t think that¡¯s listed on any of the contracts Death gave you to work with.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not. It¡¯s the reason why Death had me killed in the first place. He wants mine.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a lot to unpack¡­¡± Amy paused midway through making a move. ¡°Uhm¡­ I think it would be most easy to call spiritual property¡­ baggage. Like when you check luggage on a long flight. It belongs to you, but you can¡¯t really use it mid-flight. I guess being alive is the flight in that metaphor.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s like, real property? Like land?¡±


    ¡°I guess it could be land. Never run into that before.¡± Amy made a quick move before carrying on with her answer. ¡°It¡¯s mostly objects. Usually things that get made using souls, but sometimes it¡¯s just personal things like family heirlooms passed on by contractors and arbitrators.¡±


    ¡°So, I guess that brings me to the second part of that question¡­ what spiritual property do I have?¡±


    Albert made another move. He was paying more attention to the conversation than the game, but he was still mildly aware of what was happening on the board.


    ¡°No clue.¡± Amy let out a short laugh as she continued to pay more attention to the game. ¡°But a lot of people have at least a passing connection to spiritual property these days. Contracting has been going on for a long time and it isn¡¯t uncommon for someone to have spiritual property they are completely unaware of. It can move through generations of a family and go unnoticed.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can answer the third part of the question then.¡±


    ¡°I mean I can try.¡±


    ¡°Okay, what does Death want with my spiritual property?¡±


    ¡°No clue.¡± Amy laughed again. ¡°Sorry. Specifically yours? No clue. In general, people like Death, contractors, they like having shiny things that make them look good. So he probably just wants whatever it is to show off or help him amass power.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to jump to question four then.¡± Albert sighed, still not comforted by the answers he¡¯d gotten. ¡°Are there other people like Death? Contractors?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. Plenty. Not as many these days. But probably still too many.¡± Amy smirked. ¡°Too many.¡±


    ¡°How many is that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ two, maybe three dozen? My point is that one is probably too many, but I have no say in that.¡±


    ¡°Okay, back to question two then. What happens to a spirit when it dissipates?¡±


    ¡°Albert, you have really dumb questions.¡± Amy said with a sigh. ¡°I guess they aren¡¯t dumb, because you don¡¯t know much about this whole side of reality. But from my perspective, that¡¯s a really dumb question.¡±


    ¡°Why is it dumb?¡±


    ¡°Think of that question in a different way. When a spirit dissipates, it pops. Ceases to exist. It¡¯s double dead. It is no longer part of this plane of existence. I¡¯ve pretty much explained it that way already. So what happens when something leaves the realm of what you can observe?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. What happens?¡±


    ¡°You just answered the question. You don¡¯t know. It¡¯s Schrodinger¡¯s cat. It¡¯s outside of the observable world, so you can¡¯t say one way or the other. Maybe it moves on to an afterlife, maybe it doesn¡¯t. Maybe that¡¯s just the end of that person¡¯s entire existence. If I were going to find out, I¡¯d have to look in the box. But I can¡¯t look in the box without dying.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Albert sort of followed Amy¡¯s explanation. The cat part didn¡¯t make much sense to him, but it made sense that you couldn¡¯t know without dying and dissipating yourself.


    ¡°Question three, then. What does Death do with the souls he collects?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I guess that¡¯s a better question.¡± Amy turned her attention away from the chessboard to think about it. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not something I know a lot about. Contractors keep specific information about what they are and how their abilities and lives work pretty secret. But they do run on souls, like batteries I guess. But they have¡­ most of them have a lot of souls to keep them going. Some don¡¯t even collect them anymore. So maybe they only need so many? Maybe they just keep them in storage. I assume, however it is they absorb them into their being, it isn¡¯t pleasant.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I think that kind of helps. It sheds a new light on the choices I¡¯ve already made at least. I chose between finding out what happens after you die, becoming a battery, and this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for choosing this, by the way. It¡¯s not a common option, but it¡¯s familiar.¡± Amy let out a resentful sigh. ¡°I probably would have made the same choice. In your position, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Last question.¡± Albert hoped his last question would elicit a clearer answer. ¡°Why do I change when I arbitrate a soul?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably rolled into the things that contractors keep secret. So, specifically, I don¡¯t know the answer.¡± Amy was focused on the chess game again, but her eyes occasionally darted back up to Albert. ¡°But I would guess that normal people all have a spark of what makes a contractor a contractor. And when you function as an arbitrator for one, it agitates that dormant spark. You could be experiencing things that contractors feel regularly, it could be feeling the side-effects of experiencing something that humans aren¡¯t supposed to. I don¡¯t necessarily think it¡¯s a good or bad thing, except when those side-effects interfere with doing the work your supposed to be doing. Or your normal life, in your case.¡±


    Amy paused to look closely at the chess board before continuing. Albert could tell she had more to say, but the game was bothering her more.


    She stood to look at it from a different angle and then knelt to put the pieces at eye level.


    ¡°It¡¯s like taking a medication, in a way. Everything a medication does, good or bad, is a side-effect of taking that medication. The thing you want to happen, the goal of taking it, is usually just the most reliable and desirable side-effect. But when you accidentally take a mystery pill, it¡¯s all chaos. You expect nothing, you get something, it doesn¡¯t necessarily help you, but it doesn¡¯t necessarily hurt you either. Some effects are neutral. But, as far as I can tell, all the effects are a result of the interaction between the soul and the body.¡±


    ¡°Can you explain that, then? The way the soul interacts with the body?¡±


    ¡°A little bit. I¡¯m not a contractor, if you haven¡¯t picked up on that. But I know a bit about that end of things.¡± Amy sat back down and continued with the chess game. ¡°The soul is like the life and essence of a person. The body is the medium by which it interacts with the world. You kill the body, and the soul lingers as a spirit that can¡¯t typically interact with the world. Without a body, it''s specific body, the soul and spirit of a person begins to fade away into nothing like a candle left to burn. You take the soul out of the body, but don¡¯t fully disconnect their communication, nothing happens. You sever that connection completely, the body dies.¡±


    ¡°So, my soul¡¯s connections to my body could be being severed slightly?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a possibility. But even if you completely sever the connection, there are ways to keep the soul and body going. Contracting can do that. Contracting is mostly the manipulation of the interactions between the body and the soul, but it¡¯s all done through consensual agreements and weird magic stuff that I don¡¯t get to know about.¡±


    ¡°I feel a little better about that now, actually.¡±


    ¡°Also, coincidentally, that¡¯s checkmate¡± Amy sighed again, disappointed.


    At first Albert thought it was because he wasn¡¯t investing in the game like she was, but then he realized she was pointing at her own king.


    ¡°Oh. I won again?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I won again? Oooh, look at me playing all stupid.¡± Amy copied him in a strangely accurate but still mocking tone. ¡°Yeah. You won. By accident. Again. You get how annoying and absolutely improbable that is, right?¡±


    ¡°That does sound unlikely. But I don¡¯t really¡­ I don¡¯t really know enough about chess to understand how unlikely.¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. Ugh.¡± Amy was visibly frustrated now. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that you beat me twice without trying, don¡¯t be polite about it.¡±


    ¡°He beat you twice?¡±


    Albert did a startled double take. A girl had suddenly appeared behind Amy and was looking over her shoulder. It had happened in the blink of an eye and come out of nowhere. Albert almost fell backwards off his seat. When he finally composed himself, he realized she matched Amy¡¯s description of Hope. A little shorter than Amy, dark brown curly hair, dressed in designer clothes.


    ¡°That¡¯s not normal.¡± Hope hummed. ¡°Amy, explain how that happened.¡±


    Amy winced at the demand and shifted uncomfortably in her seat before explaining.


    ¡°He is extremely and unnaturally lucky. He got me the first time with an almost turn for turn copy of Morphy versus Brunswick and Isouard. The second time was just¡­ chaos in motion.¡± Amy continued to look extremely uncomfortable while she answered, almost like she was being forced to do it against her will.


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Hope hummed again before taking a seat next to Amy, pushing her to the side easily in the process.


    Albert didn¡¯t like the way Hope was behaving, with her casual demands and general posture of superiority. But he had to admit that she had a very pleasant, almost musical, voice. It was just as discordant to witness as Amy using her fake girly voice and attentive posture. Amy''s fake persona almost mimicked Hope''s voice and mannerisms; and after her accurate enough mimic of him, Josh didn''t feel that was a coincidence.


    ¡°You must be Hope,¡± Albert held out his hand cautiously to shake hers, but Hope didn¡¯t accept it.


    ¡°Ooh, Amy¡¯s been talking about me. All good things I hope.¡± Hope turned to Amy. ¡°Tell me, Amy, were you talking poorly about me behind my back?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Amy hissed. Her jaw was clenched, but the answer came out quietly.


    ¡°That¡¯s rude. And now Mr. Carol is going to have a bad first impression of me. Amy, go punch a tree or something. I want to talk with Mr. Carol alone.¡±


    Amy twitched subtly as she stood, walked over to the nearest tree, and began punching it. It didn¡¯t sound too bad, but Albert couldn¡¯t be sure.


    ¡°Harder, Amy. Punch the tree as hard as you can.¡± Hope called out to Amy.


    Albert could hear the impacts get louder and slightly wetter.


    ¡°You¡¯re her boss, then.¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡± Hope smiled. ¡°I get to tell her what to do. Among other things.¡± The smile became more twisted as it spread out wider over her face.


    ¡°What did you want to talk about?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was wondering where you two ran off to. I sat through two classes and didn¡¯t see you two at all. If I wanted to go through some trash modern school again¡­ I wouldn¡¯t do it. I¡¯m just curious why Amy is masquerading as a teenager and why your little case file is getting so much attention.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about my case file. But I¡¯m just collecting souls. Death¡¯s orders.¡± Albert held his hands up in mock defense. ¡°Two souls, or I die. Amy¡¯s just helping me with arbitration resources.¡±


    ¡°Is that what they call it now? Arbitration resources?¡±


    Albert groaned in frustration. He did not understand why this was becoming a pattern.


    ¡°Why does everyone jump immediately to the conclusion that we¡¯re engaging in some sort of secret torrid affair?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a teenage boy, Albert.¡± Hope eyed Albert quizzically.


    ¡°And she¡¯s not a teenage girl.¡± Albert frowned.


    ¡°Touche.¡± Hope gave a nod of assent. ¡°But she¡¯s still a woman. And sometimes older women¡­¡±


    ¡°I can still hear you!¡± Amy shouted from where she stood, still punching the same tree.


    ¡°My point is, I want to be sure you aren¡¯t getting comfortable.¡±


    ¡°My body is only half alive. I feel every inch of my being being pulled apart by a force I can¡¯t even describe. I don¡¯t sleep. I don¡¯t eat. For a whole day I barely felt any physical sensation across my entire body. When I don¡¯t pay attention to the world around me, I lose hours of time staring into the void until I get snapped back to my senses. I have an incredibly unpleasant job that I need to do, and all of the side-effects of it are making it nearly impossible to live my life.¡± Albert glared at Hope as he ran down the list of things he had experienced. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call anything about what is happening to me, or anyone helping me, comfortable. So unless you have anything to say that will actually help me, you can leave. You¡¯re making it a lot harder for me to do the task that Death has given me, and my contract has nothing in it about anyone working for him being allowed to hinder me.¡±


    ¡°Bit sensitive, aren¡¯t we.¡± Hope frowned deeply at the antagonism being sent her way. ¡°But fair. I didn¡¯t come here to get in your way. But if you¡¯re experiencing any unnecessary problems, let me know. The conditions here aren¡¯t bad for soul collecting, but working with half measures can be difficult. That¡¯s part of the process.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have Amy keep you in the loop.¡± Albert gave Hope a fake smile and gestured to Amy.


    ¡°You can stop punching the tree now.¡± Hope called out. Amy stopped immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll be going. If you still intend on attending your school, I may stick around. If not, I won¡¯t be hard to find.¡±


    Without warning or effect Hope was gone. Albert had thought he saw some movement in her hands before she vanished, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. She had left just as suddenly and startlingly as she had appeared.


    Amy made her way over to Albert and put a hand on his shoulder. From the angle, Albert noticed that there wasn¡¯t any sort of injury on her hands. Which was confusing, but also comforting that she hadn¡¯t actually been hurt because of him. Albert looked over to the tree and noticed that there was actually considerable damage to the bark where she had been punching.


    ¡°That was well done. I probably should have warned you ahead of time though, that that¡¯s the boss¡¯ daughter. So it¡¯s probably not a good idea to get on her bad side.¡± Amy grimaced at the failure to communicate that very important detail. ¡°It probably slipped my mind because she will literally always hate me no matter what I do.¡±


    ¡°I can see that.¡±


    Albert was now dreading his next encounter with Death. Telling off Death¡¯s daughter was not a good way to get on his good side, Albert was sure. Albert hoped they weren¡¯t so close that Death would hear about the incident before he could complete his contract. That was probably his best case scenario.


    ¡°Down for another game?¡±


    ¡°Even against my unnatural luck?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Why not.¡± Amy sighed. ¡°It will keep me sharp.¡±

 Chapter Fifteen: Getting Caught

    Chess had gone¡­ interestingly. They hadn¡¯t had much more conversation, but Albert had beaten Amy at least twice more after Hope left. After that, though, Amy had gone on a winning streak. Albert accepted it as luck only going so far. Before long, though, Amy had indicated the time and that Albert needed to head home. He had completely forgotten about what it would be like if he arrived home late and his mother was waiting for him. She was already definitely nervous and Albert sincerely hoped that she wasn¡¯t notified when the rest of his teachers realized that he skipped class.


    If they realized he had skipped at all.


    So, it was with cautious optimism that Albert made his way through the door of his apartment at almost exactly the same time he did every day after walking home from school. He had timed it out with Amy when she dropped him off down the street. Hopefully it would be normal enough to convince his paranoid mother, but Albert was still nervous.


    ¡°How was school?¡±


    Albert¡¯s mom was cleaning dishes at the kitchen sink just to his left as he entered the apartment. She wasn¡¯t looking at him.


    ¡°Eh, it was school.¡± Albert tried his best to be nonchalant, but he wasn¡¯t sure if he was pulling it off. ¡°So, normal, I guess. Which is nice¡­¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re going to skip school and lie to me.¡± Albert¡¯s mom hissed as she looked up from the sink and towards Albert. ¡°The school resource officer called me today to tell me that you skipped out after first period. A policeman called me. Because truancy is a crime. And while the worst they can do to you is expel you, I could get in serious trouble too.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I left school early. I was having a really hard time, everyone was looking at me like I was a freak. I couldn¡¯t focus.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you come home, then?¡±


    Albert paused. He hadn¡¯t thought about that. He had hoped she wouldn¡¯t find out at all, so any sort of backup explanation had slipped his mind. He didn¡¯t have a good reason he could give her as to why he didn¡¯t come back home once he¡¯d left school. It was in walking distance, and she might have even been fine with it if he had told her what had happened then.


    ¡°Amy¡­ caught me freaking out in the hallway between classes and helped me calm down and clear my head.¡± Albert couldn¡¯t think of a better way to phrase it, even though he fully knew that his mother would read into the phrasing and draw a completely incorrect conclusion.


    ¡°Has this all just been an elaborate setup then? You get injured, Amy comes over to help you so that I can meet her and get to know her a little, so that when I find out you''re meeting up in private and skipping school I¡¯ll be nicer to you and your girlfriend?¡± She was furious. Albert thought he heard something break when she threw whatever dish she had been holding back into the sink.


    ¡°No. We aren¡¯t dating. She isn¡¯t my girlfriend. I don¡¯t even like her like that. She¡¯s just a nice friend¡­ and¡­ and it¡¯s nice to talk to someone my own age instead of relying on my mom for everything.¡± Albert was being honest, but was trying very hard to change the subject to an argument he could win. Hopefully she would be distracted by the emotional nature of the argument and wouldn¡¯t notice.


    ¡°How am I supposed to believe you?¡± His mother was exasperated now. ¡°You¡¯ve already lied to me about skipping school, and I know you¡¯re hiding something else with Amy.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­¡± Albert didn¡¯t know what to tell his mother, or how to phrase it so that he could leave her in the dark about arbitration and contracting. ¡°She¡¯s helping me with something. Something important. But I can¡¯t talk to you about it.¡±


    ¡°Is it drugs? Are you involved in something illegal?¡± Her voice had softened into a more fearful tone. Clearly she wasn¡¯t eager to confront whatever was happening, but she wasn¡¯t backing down.


    ¡°It¡¯s not illegal.¡± Albert was pretty sure there was no law on earth that could prevent someone from doing what Death did and had asked him to do. Normally laws weren¡¯t equipped to deal with the implications that magic or souls were real things that caused problems.


    ¡°Okay, why can¡¯t I know about it then?¡±


    That was a harder question for Albert, and he had to stop and think of how to answer it properly. The pause wasn¡¯t reassuring to his mother, he could tell, but he didn¡¯t know what else to do.


    ¡°It involves other people¡­ that I don¡¯t want you to meet.¡± Albert wasn¡¯t entirely sure where he was going with his explanation, but he was going somewhere. ¡°To be honest, I didn¡¯t really want you to meet Amy either, but I can¡¯t really stop her from doing things. She¡¯s intimidating.¡±


    Throwing truth in with the lies and half truths made the whole story slightly more reasonable. At least from Albert¡¯s perspective. He knew he wasn¡¯t being straightforward, and he knew his mom wasn¡¯t buying most of it, but he couldn¡¯t think of a better way to handle the situation. Albert wished, at that moment, that he could sit down with his mother at Death¡¯s arbitration desk so that she could be reassured that he wasn¡¯t lying to her without having to tell her the whole truth. But that situation obviously involved exposing her to the very things he was trying to keep her away from.


    ¡°Are you ever going to tell me the truth?¡± His mother sighed. He couldn¡¯t tell if she was defeated, or if she was too disappointed to continue. If she felt she was only being lied to, Albert could see why she wouldn¡¯t want to keep the interrogation going.


    ¡°If everything goes right, I could tell you. But if it doesn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± She sighed again and turned back to the sink with a grumble.


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure what to do at that point. Staying in the apartment was already feeling awkward, but leaving would just strengthen the divide that he had just made between himself and his mom. Going to his room and shutting himself away wouldn¡¯t do much good either. There was nothing for him to do there and he¡¯d just be trapped there with his thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going to go for a walk.¡± Albert muttered just loud enough for his mother to hear. ¡°I¡¯ll try and be back before you leave for work.¡±


    His mom didn¡¯t respond, or even look up, she just gave him an absent waving gesture, as if to say ¡®clearly, I can¡¯t stop you.¡¯ It was sad, but Albert didn¡¯t know what else to do. There weren¡¯t any good options. As he turned to open the door, he paused, contemplating what would happen if he didn¡¯t leave, but all the conclusions he reached in his head felt just a little worse than what would happen if he left.


    Albert didn¡¯t know where he was going as he walked. He wasn¡¯t spaced out, but he wasn¡¯t focusing either. Without paying attention, he found himself at the same strip mall where he contracted Arnie. When he noticed where he was standing, he began to panic. He didn¡¯t exactly feel bad that he had done what he had done, but he still wasn¡¯t okay with what had happened either. There was no crime scene tape or evidence that anyone else had been their either. His body was probably still in the store he had slipped and fallen. That thought sent a wave of nausea through Albert and he had to cover his mouth to prevent himself from heaving as he quickly walked away.


    Albert didn¡¯t go out on casual walks, mainly just from home to school and back. So he didn¡¯t know where to go after experiencing the tension at his apartment and the trauma at the strip mall. Before long, however, Albert found himself back at the park where he had played chess with Amy earlier that day. Now that school had gotten out, there were more people there, including a few other kids that looked his age. The whole area had a completely different look and feel to it than it had before when it was empty.


    For lack of a better option, Albert sat down on one of the wooden park benches by the side of the walking path and looked up into the tree branches overhead. It wasn¡¯t particularly interesting, but it was something that he could focus on outside of his head that wasn¡¯t a person or empty space. It was almost entrancing to watch the wind move the branches and the leaves, to see the sun filter through the green in a gentle sort of strobe. It was almost like watching TV static.


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure how long he had sat there and stared up into space, but when he caught hold of reality again, it had grown darker. The sun was still up, but it was closer to twilight hours. His mother had probably already gone to work, giving her even more reason to be disappointed in him.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    There was a creek in the wood as the bench shifted beneath Albert. Someone else had sat down just a little to his left.


    ¡°I have good news, neutral news, and I¡¯m guessing you have bad news.¡± Amy announced.


    Albert didn¡¯t look down from the trees as he responded.


    ¡°My mom got a call from the school resource officer that I skipped classes. So I tried to tell her enough to get her to calm down and it kind of made things worse¡­¡±


    ¡°Did you tell her anything about your situation?¡±


    ¡°Just that we aren¡¯t an item, I¡¯m not doing anything illegal, but I am doing something and that it involves other people I don¡¯t want her to meet.¡±


    ¡°All true.¡± Amy muttered with a defeated sigh. ¡°But not very clever. She definitely won¡¯t let me visit again. I knocked a little bit ago at your apartment and I heard your mom check the peep hole in the door, but she didn¡¯t answer. I¡¯m honestly surprised I found you, by the way. But that¡¯s probably just your luck.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t really want to talk about that, not unless you¡¯ve got a better cover story for me. What¡¯s your news?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll start with the neutral news.¡±


    Albert finally looked down to glance at Amy, but she was looking up into the trees as well.


    ¡°Remember the nurse you almost got to sign a contract the other day?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That was¡­ awful.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t dissipate. She was resuscitate. I checked back with the hospital staff saying I was a journalist for some local paper and I¡¯d heard a story about a dead nurse. Turns out it was an attempted suicide and a coworker found her in time to revive her. I got to speak to her too, she was still recovering in a room and being closely monitored. But she didn''t recognize me and she seemed to have a renewed vigor for life... for some reason.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Albert thought about that. ¡°That¡¯s actually nice to hear. Not the suicide part. I¡¯m glad she¡¯s not dead. I feel a little less bad now.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m glad I found out what was up too. I¡¯ve never actually witnessed a spirit get sucked back to it¡¯s body before, so now I know what that looks like¡­ at least, if you weren¡¯t lying to me.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Good news then?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s actually good news. Kinda feels like I don¡¯t have space for good news in my head, but why not.¡±


    ¡°There was a bodega robbery downtown today.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s good news.¡±


    ¡°One of the robbers was shot by the clerk and died at the scene.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to say that there¡¯s a soul there that I can contract?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They¡¯re fresh, and criminals actually make for pretty good arbitration. Something about being at the point where you¡¯re tipped over the edge and choose violence or mischief over the normal way of doing things makes your soul more¡­ vibrant, I guess. I would say sturdier, but it isn¡¯t quite right either.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know anything about that. But, take into account that I¡¯m a teenager. I¡¯m a pasty shut-in kid that doesn¡¯t talk to people.¡±


    ¡°I dunno, Albert. You¡¯ve been doing just fine up till now. Luck might have a lot to do with it, but there¡¯s some skill too. Not much. But some¡­ probably.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very reassuring, Amy. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Look, luck can only get you so far. That¡¯s why you stopped winning chess matches. After a while, you need to rely on some skill too. After three mostly successful arbitrations, I think I can safely say that you haven¡¯t been scraping by on just luck.¡±


    ¡°Three?¡± Albert was confused. He would only say one, maybe two if he was being generous with the what happened when he was trying to get the nurse to sign.


    ¡°I¡¯m counting your contract too. Death doesn¡¯t bend, Albert. But he took a step to the side for you.¡± Amy looked down and took a more careful look at the world around them. ¡°That doesn¡¯t happen. He''ll still come for your soul again some day, but when you bought yourself some time you did something I don''t think I''ve ever seen someone do. You must have said the right things, at the right time, in the right way. That or whatever spiritual property you have is just so valuable that Death isn¡¯t going to let you fail. Either way, you made it out of that room successfully.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. I don¡¯t really believe that. But, whatever.¡± Albert sighed and took a look around for Amy¡¯s car. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be going to that bodega?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that big of a rush. But sure. I didn¡¯t know if you wanted to talk about anything or not, so I thought I¡¯d give you a chance.¡± Amy shrugged as she got up and started walking over to the rental car.


    Albert followed her quietly, slightly regretting the lost opportunity to talk about his frustrations. But as he sat in the passenger seat of the car and let Amy drive to the other side of town, he realized that a lot of what had bothered him earlier that day didn¡¯t seem as bad now. The half measures, the unfortunate circumstance of his death, the pain, the lying¡ªit felt¡­ relaxed. Albert thought back to try and figure out how long it had been since any of it had really bothered him, but the last time he felt overwhelmed by it all was just before Amy had started playing chess with him. There was still some confusion as he had gone through his questions, though. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he had stopped feeling so bad when he had lashed out at Hope. Venting, even in anger, had actually let out a lot of what was bothering him. Someone else knew what it was like to be him for just a moment, and that was nice. Even if it was Hope.


    Albert almost felt bad that he had had such a purely negative interaction with Amy¡¯s boss¡­ and Death¡¯s daughter. But he was still more worried about the consequences of his actions than resentful of them.


    When Amy pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park, Albert had to snap back to reality to take in where they actually were. He wasn¡¯t particularly familiar with the downtown area, but the street seemed vaguely familiar to him. There was still a police car parked outside of the bodega, and there was police tape over a broken window pane, but it looked like the area was mostly deserted. At least, no one was crowded around the store and it looked like the business was closed for the day.


    Amy handed over the glasses case that held her spirit seeing glasses over to Albert and took out her own contact lenses case. As Albert donned the glasses, he wondered how many of those lenses she had. Or if they were even different lenses each time. She had plenty of time to do things while they weren¡¯t together, so she probably stopped by whatever headquarters Death had and picked up supplies¡­ or at least that was Albert¡¯s guess. He was still curious though.


    With the glasses on, Albert immediately saw a spirit pacing the sidewalk just outside the bodega. It was a taller man, wider shoulders, short trimmed hair, strong yellow tint to his whole body. They were oddly very defined against the world around them, something Albert hadn¡¯t picked up on with any other spirit. Though that could have just been a color contrast effect. After the comparison with the other colors of spirit Albert had seen at the hospital, he wondered what color tint he¡¯d had when he was dead. Albert had to shake his head to refocus on the task at hand.


    The man¡¯s spirit paced the sidewalk, occasionally looking up around him as if waiting for something to happen. But when nothing did, he went back to pacing. He looked oddly calm for a dead man. Moreover, a dead man that probably new he was dead.


    Once Amy had her contracts in she looked to Albert with a questioning gesture.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to handle this. You usually do the capturing thing.¡± Albert hissed at her.


    Amy rolled down the passenger window of the car to better see the spirit and it noticed. The man made eye contact with Albert immediately, and before Albert could react properly he was talking.


    ¡°You can see me, can¡¯t you. You Death¡¯s collectors?¡±


    Albert was taken aback, and when he looked to Amy for help he was surprised to see that she looked just as shocked as he did.


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m an arbitrator. Were you expecting us?¡± Albert tried not to sound too clueless as he asked the spirit, but there was no avoid it. They were clearly caught off guard.


    ¡°I was expecting the creepy guy in the suit, he makes deals around here sometimes. I never talked with him, but I hear things. Some of the guys that bit it a couple days ago would talk about him, and I thought them turning up dead was a good sign that it was some kind of serious business.¡±


    Albert thought back to his own arbitration to try and dig up the names of the men that had killed him and alerted Death.


    ¡°Dickie?¡± Albert remembered the more unfortunate name first, but bringing it back up made the other follow. ¡°¡­ and Austin, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m familiar with them.¡± Albert had to try very hard not to mention that they¡¯d killed him. ¡°And I presume you don¡¯t have a contract with Death? I don¡¯t think your spirit would be lingering like it is if you did.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mess with dark magic and voodoo and spirit boards and that nonsense. Guess I¡¯m dead now, so I could probably use a friend that does that stuff.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not so much into the magic stuff. We just collect souls.¡± Albert was being more forward with this man than he expected. It was like every time he opened his mouth, he didn¡¯t know what was going to come out.


    ¡°How¡¯s that work then?¡±


    Albert turned to Amy and received a reassuring nod to go ahead.


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty simple, I just need you to sign your soul over. In exchange, we can arrange a couple different things to ease your passing. If you want. But it¡¯s easier to do in a more private space. If you step in here my driver can take you to our arbitration room.¡±


    The man shrugged and went to open the door to the backseat of the car. It took him a moment before he realized that his hand was going through the door itself. But once that clicked in his head, he stepped awkwardly through the car door itself and stooped into the interior space. Albert had no idea if the car would take him with it if it started moving, but he didn¡¯t have to worry about it.


    As soon as the man was in the car, Amy closed the window and leaned back into the backseat with the pen in her hand. With a quick jab of the tip against the man¡¯s leg, he was gone.


    ¡°That was¡­ easier than I expected.¡± Albert bit his lip, still slightly confused and worried that this was going too smoothly.


    ¡°You seem to know more than I do, or at least you know his friends. A natural arbitration isn¡¯t unheard of, though. I usually just force people into the room because it¡¯s faster and intimidating.¡±


    ¡°Well, I think I¡¯m not going to be getting much readier than I already am.¡±


    Albert scooped the file folder of contracts off the back seat of the car, looked around for the ink well before Amy handed it to him, and then held out his hand for the pen.


    Amy gave him a look as he held his hand out, deliberately withholding what he was after. It took a moment for Albert to remember the mantra.


    "Right. This is going to suck."


    With the mantra repeated, Amy held the pen out and dropped it into Albert''s hand. As soon as it touched his skin, he was sent out of the car and into the arbitration room. The transition was familiar this time, and he was completely prepared to be sent away.


    Albert was determined to do everything right this time.

 Chapter Sixteen: The Third Arbitration

    The man was already sitting at the flimsy table, easily overshadowing it. In fact the man seemed to be the biggest thing in the room. It was an odd sensation given how physically boundless the space felt. He took up almost all the lighted space and cast a shadow against the table.


    Albert waved off the size difference between them and sat down at the table, taking a more relaxed and leaning back posture to make up for the discomfort he felt.


    ¡°So, in exchange for your soul, we are willing to offer you a number of things. There is a lot of wiggle room with the contracts I have available for you, but at their most basic they all boil down to compensation and favors. We can have the man who killed you killed. We can help you cover some debts that might be left behind for the people you care about. We can improve the reputation you leave behind. And, I believe this is the most common, we can have a message left for someone you care about.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not exactly what I got in mind.¡± The man leaned down to get a more level posture with Albert. ¡°Money¡¯d be nice, but there¡¯s more important stuff I need taken care of.¡±


    ¡°Well, we can addend financial compensation for your relatives and loved ones with other agreements.¡± Albert tried to sound more confident than he was about that concept. He couldn¡¯t exactly staple two of the pages together and have them both apply¡­ could he? ¡°We can¡¯t promise more than a reasonably discrete amount though.¡±


    ¡°Sure. But I need you to help my sister.¡±


    Albert went over the contracts he remembered off the top of his head, but couldn¡¯t recall exactly which one would be best for that.


    ¡°What kind of help does she need?¡±


    ¡°She was with me when I held up the bodega. I don¡¯t want her to get arrested.¡±


    Albert was fairly comfortable saying that could be covered under a material trade contract.


    ¡°That¡­ shouldn¡¯t be too hard.¡± Albert pulled the contract he had in mind out of the folder. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to sign¡­¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s one other thing.¡± The man sounded nervous as he interrupted. ¡°I don¡¯t want her getting involved or hurt by your boss.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­ I don¡¯t know exactly how that one would work in writing. Could you be more specific?¡±


    ¡°Dickie and Austin. They messed with Death and they got put down. It was only a couple weeks too. Now I¡¯m askin¡¯ for help from you guys, and I¡¯m already dead. So she¡¯s probably at risk too just cus¡¯ I¡¯m asking you to cover for her. I can¡¯t let you hurt her.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think I can promise that on Death¡¯s behalf.¡± Albert knew for a fact that Death wouldn¡¯t be a fan of that arrangement. If it was misconstrued, it might mean he would never be able to collect her soul if that was ever something he wanted to do. Even though it was just one soul, he¡¯d probably never agree to it. And that was if Albert cut arbitration short to go ask.


    ¡°No protection. No deal.¡± The man put his hand down gently on the table. It was a soft but firm gesture.


    ¡°I can¡­ however, promise not to harm her myself.¡± Albert thought back to when Amy had run him through the basic contracts he had access to. That sort of deal would fall under the terms of a personal agreement. And that meant he would have to write that up himself.


    ¡°Just you?¡±


    ¡°I can also go out of my way to convince others not to harm her. If I hear about her from anyone else that works for Death, or Death himself, I can attempt to step in on her behalf.¡±


    ¡°I can agree to that. Now that I¡¯m gone, there isn¡¯t anyone to look after her. So, that¡­ that sounds good enough.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to write that out from scratch then.¡± Albert sighed and pulled the blank sheet out from the back of the folder. ¡°This may take a moment.¡±


    Albert pulled over the contract for material trade as well, to copy over the details of the cash transaction. Having something with the right language on it helped too for the act of removing suspicion from the man¡¯s sister. Once he had copied everything that he could, Albert began to write new lines of the agreement for protecting the man¡¯s sister.


    I ________________ (arb) agree to not willfully harm _______________, affiliate of contractee ________ (init), under any circumstance. ________________ (arb) also agrees to intervene in event of known threat to affiliate, _________________.


    Albert gave the page a quick breath to dry the ink and then turned the page around to the man. He indicated the places where the man needed to sign with his name and his sister¡¯s name before handing over the pen and ink well. The pen looked small in his hands and his handwriting was messy, Albert could barely make it out from across the table. When the man handed the paper and pen back, Albert began to sign in his own designated spaces.


    ¡°Thank you for doing that.¡± The man said quietly.


    ¡°Thank you for your compliance,¡± Albert returned as he signed the last blank on the page.


    As soon as the blank was filled, Albert found himself back in the front seat of the car. It was still parked in the same place it had been before, but now the contract materials were on his lap. Albert quickly corked the ink and returned the pen to Amy.


    ¡°I take it things went well this time?¡±


    ¡°Kind of. I had to write out a personal agreement contract.¡± Albert handed the signed document over to Amy.


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Amy grunted as she read the page over. ¡°That¡¯s kind of a tall order. I suppose you want to sub-contract me to smooth things over for the police?¡±


    ¡°That would be nice, but I could try and do that myself.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Amy sighed and quickly scribbled a few more lines on the bottom of the page before handing it back to Albert to sign again. ¡°You¡¯d make things worse.¡±


    Albert sighed and signed again under the sub-contracting line Amy had added. She was probably right. He¡¯d never been in a police station in his life and attempting to interfere in an investigation would probably get him arrested.


    ¡°What am I going to have to cut you in for with that?¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Amy acted like she had almost forgotten what she¡¯d said about personal agreement contracts. They didn¡¯t work the same way, so she¡¯d have to be compensated directly for any help with them. ¡°There¡¯s still a few thousand left in your compensation slush fund after this one. I¡¯ll take the rest of that.¡±


    Amy quickly penciled the amount down on the contract while Albert held it. The contract felt heavy to Albert. Even before Amy had added to it, it felt like it weighed the same as a big stack of papers instead of just one sheet.


    ¡°Two souls in three days with less than ten thousand spent isn¡¯t half bad. It¡¯s great actually, considering you have no idea what you¡¯re doing.¡± Amy pulled the paper out of Albert¡¯s hand and added it back into the folder. ¡°How do you feel? Halfway measures changing?¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Albert had to think about it for a moment. He didn¡¯t really feel sore any more. And that stretching feeling was gone. He pulled back the bandages at his hands to see if there was still scabbing and ooze, but they were perfectly fine. But there was something else too, something new. It felt like there was more to him now. Maybe it was just that he¡¯d gotten so used to only being half alive, but it felt like there was this weight on his back and arms and legs that made it hard to move.


    ¡°I feel¡­ heavier?¡±


    ¡°Huh. That¡¯s a new one.¡± Amy shrugged and put the car back into drive. ¡°We should get this settled as soon as possible then. If you¡¯re ready, that is?¡±


    ¡°You mean bring the contract in to Death and renegotiate?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so much renegotiation, but you need to hand over that soul you just got.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I didn¡¯t have to actively give him the first one.¡± Albert¡¯s eye twitched as he spoke. He couldn¡¯t understand why, but he tried to ignore it. ¡°Or is this because I had to write out this contract?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. When you go through with contract forms written specifically with the consent of a contractor you hold the soul in escrow. This just means that, because you made a personal agreement outside the bounds of what Death outlined, you own part of the soul by default.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that.¡± Albert grimaced, his eye twitching again.


    ¡°It is what it is. You just need to sign an agreement with Death¡­ or Hope, I guess. They¡¯re both contractors. She doesn¡¯t really do the same kind of work her dad does though. Anyway, the sooner you do it the better. There can be side-effects of a mortal person holding on to a soul that isn¡¯t theirs. It¡¯s kind of like trying to shove a nine volt battery in a triple A socket.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like it would short circuit, or overload something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s a good way of describing it.¡±


    Albert was not comforted by Amy¡¯s casual description of something that sounded painful. Or at the very least, uncomfortable. Albert¡¯s eye began twitching more rapidly as he sat is silence. Something was stuck in his eye too. It was like he¡¯d blinked an eyelash onto his actual eyeball.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your face?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a muscle spasm or something.¡± Albert shook his head. Partly to disregard the issue, but also to try and shake the muscle loose. ¡°I think I¡¯m just stressed.¡±


    ¡°Let me know if that gets worse.¡±


    Albert nodded and started wiping his left eye to try and clear the eyelash from it. The more he rubbed the twitching eye though, the worse his vision got. After about a minute of fruitless rubbing, the color was starting to dim in his left eye and the eyelash had just spread¡­ only it wasn¡¯t an eyelash. It was like he was looking through a cracked glass eye.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s getting worse.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening? I can¡¯t really look without pulling over.¡±


    ¡°My left eye is losing some color and there¡¯s¡­ like¡­ a crack in my vision.¡±


    ¡°Just the one eye?¡±


    Albert¡¯s right eye began to twitch as well. The left eye seemed to be settling, but Albert didn¡¯t take the spread as a good sign.


    ¡°My right eye just started too.¡± As Albert said it, he experienced what felt like a wave of cold against his skin. After the wave of cold, he couldn¡¯t feel the twitching as much, but he could tell it was still happening. As he poked his face, he felt a very faint press against his face rather than the forceful one he had intended. ¡°And I think I just went numb.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s happening pretty fast.¡± Amy grimaced as she chanced a look over at Albert. He was on the verge of panic. ¡°Don¡¯t freak out, we¡¯re almost there.¡±


    Amy hadn¡¯t driven that far away. Albert actually recognized the neighborhood they were in as he looked out the window, though it was getting difficult to see with the color draining from his vision and the cracks spreading across what he did see. Albert had never paid attention to the businesses there though, they were all the sort of law offices and mortgage refinancing places that popped up when a neighborhood was going bad. It was a particularly bad neighborhood, according to Albert¡¯s mother at least.


    Driving slightly faster than normal, Amy pulled into a small office building surrounded by a high chain link fence. There were bars on the windows and the sign above the door said Hook & Grim Debt Collection. As soon as Amy pulled the keys out, Albert climbed out the door. It was a little tricky to do with less sensation in his legs, but Amy came around and hefted his arm over her shoulder to help balance him. It helped, but made them look like they were in a little more dire situation than Albert felt they were. Though, he was still in a panic and desperately hoping that his condition didn¡¯t get any worse.


    When Amy pulled open the door to the office, Albert was surprised to see several people at clerical desks. He had half expected the office to be empty. Even though the display of Amy practically carrying Albert in was dramatic and unusual, the clerks hardly batted an eye.


    One of the clerks, a conservatively dressed woman that could have been in her fifties, looked over to Amy and addressed her directly.


    ¡°Amy, if you¡¯re looking for Hope, she¡¯s in a meeting.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re looking for Mr. Hook, actually.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in luck, he¡¯s still in his office.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Milli.¡± Amy gave the clerk a courteous nod and walked Albert to one of the back office doors that had the name ¡®William Hook¡¯ on it.


    Albert assumed that it was some sort of clever pseudonym that he didn¡¯t understand. And as Amy opened the door, Albert could see Death sitting in a comfortable looking chair that was positioned behind a very familiar desk.


    ¡°Albert, Amy, please, come in.¡± Death smiled curiously at them as they sat down across from him. ¡°You appear to be in poor shape, Albert. Why is that?¡±


    ¡°I signed a personal agreement contract.¡±


    ¡°Is that so.¡± Death hummed. ¡°But that makes two, does it not?¡±


    ¡°I still need to sign it over to you, but yes. This makes two. And that means our contract is done.¡±


    ¡°Very well then.¡± Death retrieved a piece of paper, similar to the ones Albert¡¯s contract forms had been written on, from a desk drawer and began to write. ¡°What sort of damage has been done to your body from the second soul? I am not opposed to repairing what I am able, if you are willing to let me.¡±


    Death¡¯s dry and emotionless voice aggravated Albert, but he was not in a position to cause a fuss. Any opportunity to undo the damage he was experiencing was more than welcome, even if it came from Death.


    ¡°My eyes are losing color and there¡¯s cracks in my vision, like broken glass¡­ and my body has gone numb.¡±


    ¡°Oh my.¡± Death hummed, writing down more lines of contract. ¡°That is quite serious. How long have you been holding on to this soul for?¡±


    ¡°Half an hour, maybe.¡±Amy interjected, checking her watch.


    ¡°My, my. How quick.¡± Death scratched a few more lines down before turning the paper around and sliding it across the table. ¡°Sign at the bottom and fill in you name, as well as the name of the individual whose soul you carry.¡±


    Albert read through the contract quickly, or as quickly as he could with his vision impaired, before signing anything. Nothing seemed out of place though. It occurred to Albert, however, as he reached the line where he needed to write the man¡¯s name down, that he had not actually looked to see what it was.


    ¡°Amy, can I see the contract? I want to make sure I spell his name right.¡± Albert held his hand out while Amy fished the paper out of her backpack.


    Markus Hill was the name he had signed with. And the sisters name was listed as Samantha Hill. As soon as Albert had filled in Markus¡¯ name, he pushed the contract to the side and read through Death¡¯s new agreement again. This time filling in his own name and initials where it was required.


    ¡°May I?¡± Death indicated to the personal agreement contract.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stop you.¡± Albert sighed, not looking up from the page he was writing on.


    Death pulled the contract towards him and produced a small pair of armless round lens spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. Albert didn¡¯t watch him read the paper, but he heard several small hums and mutters as Death read through it. Death put the contract down as Albert slid the transfer agreement back to Death, fully signed.


    ¡°Albert, this is quite well done. The penmanship is sloppy, of course, but by way of phrasing you have done admirably.¡±


    ¡°I will take that as a compliment.¡± Albert let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding as he began to notice his vision returning to normal.


    ¡°It is certainly a compliment.¡± Death smiled. He appeared to be showing more genuine approval than Albert expected. It made him uncomfortable.


    ¡°So. I¡¯m done now? I can go home and I never have to see any of you again?¡± Albert looked back and forth between Death and Amy.


    Amy looked satisfied and gave a nod, but Death looked like he still had something to say.


    ¡°I have talked with my daughter about your case somewhat,¡± Death began. Albert closed his eyes and grimaced, expecting the worst. His vision hadn¡¯t even gotten all the way back to normal and he was about to be killed all over again, he could feel it. ¡°Calm yourself, Albert.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Albert muttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly have the best interaction with her, so she probably hates me.¡±


    ¡°Far from it. As I understand it, you have quite a surplus of raw luck and talent as well as a no nonsense attitude.¡± Death had looked genuinely surprised to hear Albert¡¯s version of the story, and slightly confused as he relayed what he had heard, but he continued. ¡°My daughter does not praise others lightly, you understand.¡±


    It was Albert¡¯s turn to be taken aback. If what he had done had earned Hope¡¯s praise, he didn¡¯t want to think about what it would have taken to earn her ire.


    ¡°Moreover, my daughter also informs me that you are experiencing trouble with your academics as well. With her recommendation and with the evidence of your present success, I would like to offer you a job... of sorts.¡±

 Chapter Seventeen: Job Offer

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What?¡±


    Albert couldn¡¯t really believe what he was hearing. The man that had gotten him killed, held his soul hostage for personal gain, and forced him to complete spiritually damaging work was offering him a job? Of course he was. After thinking about it for just a second, it made complete sense to Albert. This was some other trick or method to get his soul. Death was never satisfied, and he wouldn¡¯t be until Albert was dead. He felt it in his bones.


    ¡°Forgive me. I believe the modern parlance would be internship.¡±


    Albert turned to Amy, but all he got from her was an ambivalent shrug.


    ¡°What kind of internship?¡± Albert couldn¡¯t even believe he was asking the question, but he couldn¡¯t help himself. He needed to know what he was planning on saying no to.


    ¡°According to my daughter, it would be inappropriate to remove you from your schooling completely. However, it would not be unheard of to arrange a credit exchange with your school. You would still attend several of your normal classes, but after those classes you would report here and assist with arbitration work under my and my daughter¡¯s guidance.¡±


    Albert narrowed his eyes at Death. The color had come back to his vision but there were still hints of the cracks and Albert needed to be sure Death was being straightforward with him. But Death seemed as genuine as possible, though Albert had no idea how to read the expressions or tone he was getting from him.


    ¡°Put your hands on the desk and tell me this isn¡¯t some elaborate plot to kill me.¡± Ablert nodded down to the desk, placing his own hands flat against the wood himself.


    Death raised an eyebrow before cocking his head to the side with a sigh and placing his hands on the desk.


    ¡°You have my word. I do not intent to abuse this offer as a means of killing you.¡±


    Albert kept his eyes narrowed.


    ¡°I love¡­¡± Albert gagged on his own words. The familiar sensation reassured him that there was at least some sort of truth telling effect working. Still, to be sure, Albert turned to Amy and tilted his head towards the desk.


    Amy shrugged and put her hands flat on the desk a short ways away from Albert¡¯s.


    ¡°My hair is bright pink and my mother was a walrus.¡± Amy smiled at Albert and waggled her eyebrows.


    ¡°Ignore her, Albert. She has no soul. She cannot make the implied agreement.¡± Death sighed, though the edges of his mouth turned up in a subtle grin.


    Albert wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to make of the information he¡¯d just received, but turned his attention back to Death.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d let me have some time to think it over this go around?¡± Albert really didn¡¯t want to say yes. But there was something about the offer that piqued his interest.


    If Albert performed more arbitration, this time with less deadlines and stakes, he could keep doing the things he liked about the work. Helping people like Arnie and Markus take care of the things they needed done before they lost any tether to their lives had been almost a noble endeavor. Giving the souls to Death seemed like a small price to pay, particularly if he didn¡¯t have to force every soul to agree to a contract. Albert doubted there would be any sort of agreement made that he would have to be underhanded in the way he presented contracts, or that would prevent him from carrying out any well intentioned dying wishes on his own accord. It might also be a decent explanation to his mother if he could tell her he had been trying to get an internship for the last semester of senior year. There was probably a way he could spin it to her that made sense and wouldn¡¯t put her at any greater risk.


    But on the other hand, continuing to work with Death was the ultimate risk. Being around him definitely made it more likely that he¡¯d be killed or terminated in some way.


    ¡°Of course, Albert. You may take as much time as you need. I would even be willing to extend the offer after your graduation, if you prefer. However, if you are as lucky as I have been led to believe, I am quite eager that you begin as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll let you or Hope¡­ or Amy, know as soon as I¡¯ve decided.¡±


    ¡°Talk to Hope then and see if you can arrange to have Amy linger in the area as a liaison. You two seem to have grown quite close.¡± Death gave Amy a dangerous look, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind.


    Albert gave Death a respectful nod and stood to leave. Amy lingered in her place, but Albert didn¡¯t want to overstay his welcome or be at all involved with whatever conversation they were going to have.


    Once he was back in the reception area and the door to Death¡¯s office was closed behind him, Albert looked towards the clerk that had addressed Amy earlier, Milli.


    ¡°Yes?¡± She looked up at Albert after a brief awkward silence of him trying to make eye contact.


    ¡°Where can I find Hope?¡±


    Milli snickered at the question, but nodded in the direction of the other rear office.


    ¡°She just finished her meeting.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, dear.¡± Milli gave him a halfhearted smile and returned to her paperwork.


    It occurred to Albert as he approached the door to the other office that there was barely any sign of modern technology in the office. Electric lights and air conditioning seemed to be the extent of what he could see. Albert could hear a little movement on the other side of the door, which made him pause as he had his hand on the doorknob. The pause gave him time to read the placard on the door, which stated that the office belonged to Hope Grim. Again, Albert doubted that was her actual name. It was almost silly how obvious it was.


    Albert knocked on the door as he cracked it open an inch.


    ¡°Come in.¡± Hope¡¯s voice called from inside the office.


    She sounded less than thrilled to have a visitor, but Albert did his best to ignore that and made his way into the office.


    Where Death¡¯s office had been furnished much the same as his arbitration room, Hope¡¯s was much more cluttered. But also, more neat at the same time. There were bookshelves packed with books, many of which Albert recognized as novels he¡¯d seen his classmates reading. The floor was carpeted and very well kept, in fact everything looked like it was cleaned regularly; unlike her father¡¯s office. Her desk was smaller and more modern looking; it was made of a mix of lightly stained wood and metal. There were vibrant tapestry-like curtains hung over the window, but opened to allow light in. Albert could just see sparse trees and the fence outside the window. The bars on the outside of the glass felt like a stark contrast from the style of the interior. But it was this one room and not the rest of the building that was strange.


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    ¡°Albert, what brings you to my office?¡±


    ¡°Your father offered me an internship¡­ apparently at your suggestion. And I am going to think it over. We were hoping Amy could stay in the area to keep me in touch with the both of you when I make my decision.¡±


    ¡°You two are certainly chummy, aren¡¯t you.¡± Hope frowned. ¡°But if dad thinks its a good idea, I won¡¯t disagree. She¡¯ll be in town for as long as you remain undecided, then. But don¡¯t take too long. She has other things she needs to do and I don¡¯t want her getting lazy.¡±


    Albert gave a nod and was about to leave when he found himself stopping. He really didn¡¯t want to say what he was feeling the urge to, but there was a chance he¡¯d never see Hope again.


    ¡°I wanted to apologize, as well.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t even start.¡± Hope sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret being nice to you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you call nice?¡± Albert almost laughed at the idea that interrupting his makeshift therapy and forcing Amy to punch a tree for a solid five minutes was nice behavior.


    ¡°You were honest with me the last time we talked. I can respect that. People aren¡¯t honest around me a lot. So I appreciate candor. If you start trying to suck up to me because of who my father is, I will personally wring your neck.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I was trying to do.¡± Albert wasn¡¯t exactly sure how to phrase what he was trying to do, but it certainly wasn¡¯t what she was implying. ¡°Your¡­ attitude earlier today¡­ it was a good¡­ forgive my phrasing, but you made for a good verbal punching bag. I needed someone to be angry at.¡±


    Hope raised an eyebrow in surprise. Albert didn¡¯t like the way she seemed to be taking his apology, but he felt compelled to give it. Lashing out at her had actually helped him quite a bit.


    ¡°Sit down, Albert.¡± Hope gestured to the chair across the desk from her.


    Albert was beginning to regret staying in the office as long as he had. But he wasn¡¯t about to make an exit when Hope clearly wanted him to stay¡­ and had just made a threat against his life that he had no doubt she could and would be able to carry out easily.


    Albert pulled out the chair and took a seat.


    ¡°I overheard some of your conversation with my father. Just the beginning. Thin walls and all that, I realized what was happening and decided to distract myself so I wouldn¡¯t hear anything private.¡± She waved her hand around idly as she attempted to explain away the casual eaves dropping. ¡°I understand you wrote out a personal agreement and suffered some physical damage.¡±


    ¡°Yes. My eyes had some distortion and my body went numb.¡±


    ¡°How is that doing? Now that you¡¯ve passed that soul on to dad, I mean.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s still some cracks in my vision¡­ and I¡¯m still a little numb. But I do feel a lot better.¡±


    ¡°Good to hear.¡± Hope nodded happily at the news.


    Albert couldn¡¯t tell where she was going with this, but he felt too deep into it to turn back now.


    ¡°Here.¡± Hope reached into a desk drawer and produced a water bottle, which she held out to Albert. ¡°Don¡¯t freak out on me. It¡¯s just water. You probably haven¡¯t had a lot to eat or drink over the last couple days, and carrying an extra soul in your body takes a lot out of you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± Albert took the water bottle and drank a small sip cautiously. It tasted like normal water, and Albert didn¡¯t feel any different afterwards. He did recognize that he had actually been incredibly dehydrated, but didn¡¯t feel comfortable downing the whole bottle while sitting across from Hope.


    ¡°I appreciate candor, and, if I¡¯m being frank myself, I would much rather work with someone who is going to be genuine and honest with me¡­ as opposed to the people I already work with. Amy is honest, of course, but I also hate her. I also wouldn¡¯t mind working with someone a bit younger and less¡­ refined as well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡± Albert hummed, trying not to take that as an insult. It was accurate, after all. He was still just a teenager and she was¡­ probably an ancient immortal thing that he had no idea what she was capable of.


    ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be a compliment.¡± Hope corrected herself abruptly. ¡°Most of the people that end up working with us, for however long, are usually much younger than me¡­ but still old enough to look at me and think about me like I¡¯m a child. They have opinions and specific ways they want to do things. They treat this work like any other job they¡¯ve had. And there¡¯s a place for that sort of work mindset. But I hate it. I hate all of that.¡±


    Hope sighed and took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair from the front to back.


    ¡°You¡¯re still young. You look at me and you see an equal at the very least. Maybe someone you could consider a superior in a work sense. And you probably haven¡¯t had a job before. You have no idea what you¡¯re doing beyond what little bit of experience you already have from two contracts. And that sounds¡­ just, really refreshing.¡±


    Albert felt a little uncomfortable to have Hope talking about him the way she was. She wasn¡¯t necessarily wrong about any of what she was saying, and it actually made a lot of sense. But It didn¡¯t change Albert¡¯s impression of her. She still came off as rude, volatile, and spoiled. If he was working with her, he could very easily see her killing him on a whim when she got upset and then signing some sort of contract to undo the casual murder of a coworker and go on like it was nothing.


    ¡°That¡¯s nice. But why are you telling me about any of this? Are you trying to convince me to take the internship?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no.¡± Hope put her hands down on her desk in an effort to stop fidgeting with her hair. ¡°You would, very likely, do good work with us. But you¡¯re young enough you could probably still do whatever you want to with your life. And it would be nice to be able to work alongside someone like you, but mostly this is me trying to return the favor of the honesty that you¡¯ve given me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± There was still apprehension behind the words, but Albert felt the need to show genuine gratitude. It felt like the display was hard for her and she was actually trying.


    ¡°I do regret that our first encounter was tainted in the way it was. But I think it might have also been for the better that you dislike me. You might not have been honest with me otherwise¡­ so. Consider this our second first encounter. If you do decide to take the internship, this is how I¡¯d like to act around you. And I hope you don¡¯t take my behavior or personality into account when you make your decision.¡±


    ¡°If I put my hands on this desk, will I be forced to tell the truth?¡± Albert put a finger down on the desk surface.


    ¡°No. But I did spike your water with truth serum.¡± Hope paused, probably hoping for a wild reaction. But when Albert only gave her a silent, concerned look, she relented. ¡°I didn¡¯t actually spike the water, but I don¡¯t intend to lie to you. Take that at face value, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Did your dad put you up to this?¡±


    ¡°Did he put me up to what?¡± Hope looked mildly offended, but also like she wasn¡¯t exactly sure what she was supposed to be offended about.


    ¡°Being nice to me to try and convince me to take the internship.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Hope frowned, but nodded like she was admitting it was something that he would do. ¡°I think he intends to keep you close no matter what you decide, so he wouldn¡¯t have any reason to force me to act any given way. Not that he has any real control over me. I mean¡­ I guess we¡¯re business partners¡­ in a way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I believe you.¡± Albert held up his hand to stop her from rambling. ¡°I do think he has ulterior motives. And I don¡¯t trust either of you. But, since we¡¯re being so honest with each other, I do like helping dead people. It feels right.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to know.¡± Hope smiled and tilted her head to suggest that Albert could leave. ¡°And thank you, for being honest.¡±


    Albert stood up and walked out of the office. It was an awkward goodbye. But it did feel nice to have that small shred of guilt off his chest. Even if he didn¡¯t particularly like Hope, he didn¡¯t want to linger on that negative emotion he had let stay with him since earlier that day.


    In the reception area of the office building, one of the clerks had left and Amy was spinning idly in their chair.


    ¡°Good meeting?¡± She gave Albert a sarcastic smile as she swiveled to a halt. ¡°No broken bones or death threats?¡±


    ¡°One death threat.¡± Albert chuckled. ¡°And some poisoned water. But apart from that, I think it went okay.¡±


    Amy raised an eyebrow at the positive attitude Albert was giving off, but didn¡¯t give any further questions.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you home before your mom puts out a missing persons report.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t argue and followed Amy out of the building and to her car.

 Chapter Eighteen: Conflict Avoidance

    Amy had dropped Albert off at his apartment and given him a reassuring silent nod before leaving. It was probably the most encouraging gesture she had ever shown him. It meant a lot, considering no one else had really tried to reassure him at all since he had died.


    When Albert made it back up to the apartment he was dreading the possibility that his mom hadn¡¯t gone in to work. For the first time in days, his hands weren''t shaking as he pushed the key into the lock of the door, but he was nervous enough that he probably shouldn''t have been so still. But when he opened the door, the apartment was dark. The lights had been turned off. When Albert flipped the light switch by the door, he immediately noticed a note that was propped up on the small bar top surface next to the front door.


    He recognized his mother''s hand writing, but hadn''t expected this at all. He read it quietly to himself. IT almost felt like, if he was too loud it would be overheard and used against him.


    Albert,


    I hope you made it back safely.


    I¡¯m sorry for being so upset with you. I know you¡¯ve had a hard time being injured and cooped up in the apartment, but I wish you would have at least told me the truth. I¡¯m not done talking with you, but I don¡¯t want to force you out.


    I¡¯m worried about you.


    Mom


    Something about the shortness of the note made it feel very genuine. Albert knew she had a lot on her mind with his lying and skipping school. She probably still wasn¡¯t going to trust him, but it sounded like she wasn¡¯t as upset. Or at least, she had calmed down some by the time she wrote the note.


    Albert carried the note with him as he went back into his bedroom to change clothes. He almost forgot to put on fresh bandages since he''d taken off the old dirty ones. That would be too hard for him to explain, and he really hoped his mom wouldn¡¯t go through his trash and see that he wasn¡¯t throwing away mostly clean gauze.


    He was about to get into his bed to sleep, for the first time in what felt like weeks. But he glanced at the note his mom had left him again and sat down on the side of his bed instead. He would need to find the right way to explain the internship offer to her. And in a way that would make his previous lies less suspicious. He didn¡¯t want to lie to her at all, but he couldn¡¯t tell her the truth. He¡¯d never be able to leave the house again if she knew what was really happening, assuming she even believed him. She¡¯d probably think the full truth was a bigger lie and trust him less if he tried to tell her. If he didn¡¯t give her a fleshed out and convincing half-truth, she¡¯d never trust him again.


    Albert went back out to the living room and sat down in the armchair that his mother normally occupied. He pulled a notebook out of his backpack and started to write up what he was going to say.


    He started with an apology. A reasonable apology. He didn¡¯t want to tell her about this in case it didn¡¯t happen, and he wasn¡¯t sure she would approve if she didn¡¯t know more about it.


    "No. That wasn¡¯t right." Albert muttered to himself as he scribbled through his first attempt at a draft.


    He was worried she might not support him, since it was such a strange internship and debt collection isn¡¯t positively perceived. And he didn¡¯t want her to meet the people at the debt collection agency, because it was a professional setting and it was awkward to have his mom there.


    Then, he needed something to explain Amy¡¯s involvement. Maybe that her dad worked there too? But then, his mom might want to meet him. And to the best of Albert¡¯s knowledge, Amy¡¯s dad didn¡¯t exist. It might be enough to simply tell his mom that Amy was helping him fill out the application and double check his work¡­ because she was good at filling out forms? Albert was at a loss for how to fit Amy into it. He scribbled that section of his outline out and decided that he would get back to it later.


    Not long after trying to come up with a way of asking for his mom¡¯s opinion on the opportunity, Albert succumbed to sleep. Real sleep. Not the zoned out, still mostly awake, state he had been going through to pass time over the past few nights. Peaceful, restful, dreamless sleep. The kind of sleep you wish you were experiencing when you are having a hard time falling asleep.


    When Albert awoke, it was morning. The sun was shining through the curtains. He could hear his mom in the shower. He wasn¡¯t sure when she¡¯d gotten home, but it looked like she had seen him and left him alone when she had. The notebook was still flipped open on his lap, thankfully to a mostly empty page. If she had peeked at what he was writing, she probably would see it as nothing more than a practice apology. But it still made him nervous.


    Albert pulled himself out of the armchair and got dressed. He didn¡¯t anticipate having much time to talk to his mom before he left for school, but he knew the sooner he talked to her the better he would feel and the more likely she would be to believe him. At least, he hoped.


    When Albert emerged back into the central space of the apartment, his mom was making breakfast. She didn¡¯t normally make anything fancy.The last few days, she had offered to make more extravagant meals, but Albert had insisted on normal food¡ªmostly because he had not been interested in food and didn¡¯t want to waste anything potentially expensive. But now¡­ Albert could smell bacon at the very least, and the smell didn¡¯t cause any nausea. In fact, he felt incredibly hungry. It was like when he had taken a sip of water the night before and felt like he could down the whole bottle then and there. He had actually downed the whole bottle the second he had gotten in the car with Amy, but he hadn¡¯t really expected food to be so appealing to him so quickly.


    When he leaned over his mom¡¯s shoulder to see what she was making, he was surprised to see she was actually making pancakes, eggs, and bacon in one of her larger professional skillets. She was a great cook, which was partly why she did so well at her job that they let her get away with working longer hours than the rest of the cooks, but she rarely cooked anything more complex than scrambled eggs at home. It was almost a shame that a lot her nicer cookware saw so little use. Albert wasn¡¯t sure when she¡¯d gone out to get the bacon either, as there hadn¡¯t been any in the fridge the last time he checked and his mom hadn¡¯t gone out to get groceries since he¡¯s been injured.


    ¡°Good morning, Albert.¡± She smiled at him as she noticed him peering over her shoulder. It was a strained smile, almost nervous. But she looked more glad to see him home and safe than she looked nervous. ¡°I know you would have objected if I¡¯d given you the option, but I have decided that we''re splurging today.¡±


    ¡°Actually, this smells really good. Thank you for making breakfast.¡±


    Albert sat back at the small dining room table and waited for food to be ready. He would offer to help, but he knew his mom didn¡¯t like him to clutter up the kitchen space by standing there. She had things well under control.


    ¡°I saw you fell asleep writing something last night. I didn¡¯t read any of it, but is that something you were going to share with me?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to find the best way to tell you what I didn¡¯t yesterday.¡±


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    ¡°Does that mean that things went well?¡± His mom raised a nervous eyebrow as she referenced what he¡¯d said the day before.


    ¡°Kind of.¡± Albert scratched the back of his head nervously, not sure where to start.


    ¡°Let¡¯s eat first. That way if something else comes up, we can at least have enjoyed breakfast first.¡±


    His mom¡¯s avoidance of the problem wasn¡¯t normal. It was almost like she was trying to deflect away from it. It wasn¡¯t something Albert had been expecting, but he wasn¡¯t going to argue. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d have time to actually talk before school though if they ate first. She was making a lot of food.


    ¡°What if I¡¯m late for school¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Saturday, Albert. There isn¡¯t any school today.¡±


    Albert stared blankly at the plate of food his mother put in front of him as he tried to remember what day it was. Was it really Saturday? Did I lose track of time that badly? He didn¡¯t think his mom was lying to him, but it really didn¡¯t feel like a Saturday.


    ¡°You must have seriously hit your head hard.¡± She laughed a little as she shook her head. ¡°Are you sure you don''t have a concussion?¡±


    ¡°No. But I do feel a lot better now¡­ I just lost track of the days. Probably because I haven¡¯t been sleeping great.¡±


    Albert dug into his plate of food as soon as he stopped talking. It was better than he had anticipated and the more he ate, the hungrier he felt. Almost like he had gone three days without eating.


    ¡°Well, you were sleeping like a log last night. And I¡¯m glad you have your appetite back too.¡±


    They ate in relative silence after that. Partly because no one was sure how to bring the more complicated discussion of what Albert had been hiding from his mom back up, but also partly because Albert couldn¡¯t stop shoveling food into his mouth long enough to talk. When his plate was finally empty, he waited in nervous silence as his mom finished her food before trying to get back into the conversation he was dreading.


    ¡°Albert, I am stuffed, I think I should take a nap¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Albert interrupted her. He could tell she was trying to avoid the conversation, and he needed to have it. ¡°We need to talk and I¡¯m ready to talk to you about this.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s talk then.¡± His mom¡¯s expression got darker, more sad, but she straightened her back and put her hands down on the table in an attentive posture.


    ¡°I got accepted into an internship program.¡±


    Albert waited to try and judge her reaction before he carried on, but she wasn¡¯t reacting much at all.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of a big deal at school, and it¡¯s a competitive program to get into. I didn¡¯t want to talk about it in case I didn¡¯t get accepted.¡± Albert was trying to remember what he¡¯d written down, but he knew he¡¯d already deviated from his script. ¡°And I was hanging out with Amy because she was helping fill out the application and like¡­ you know, cheering me on. She¡¯s a really good friend¡­ and I¡¯m sorry you were introduced to her the way you were.¡±


    ¡°She did seem very polite.¡± His mom finally relented and relaxed slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I embarrassed you the last time she was here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she minds.¡±


    ¡°Still.¡± She shook her head in mild disappointment. ¡°So what sort of internship is this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a sort of law... internship. I would be working at a debt collection firm and going over legal documents and helping people with their debt payment plans.¡± It was a stretch, but Albert felt pretty sure that it was mostly true. ¡°It¡¯s a weird internship, so I wasn¡¯t sure if you¡¯d approve. But I also haven¡¯t decided if I¡¯m going to take it or not.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to¡­ you know¡­ work in debt collection¡­ as a career?¡± She didn¡¯t seem thrilled at the prospect of her son being a debt collector, but she was clearly trying to be supportive. Albert took that as a good sign, it meant that she believed that part of the story.


    ¡°Not really, but I could see myself working in law. Maybe finance law. I like the idea of helping people, you know? Like really¡­ working with real problems that people have.¡± That was really the biggest thing that was tempting him to take the internship. That and not having to deal with whatever it was Death would do to keep him close if he declined.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you want me to meet these people then? If it¡¯s a good internship I want to know where you¡¯ll be and who you¡¯ll be working with.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not in a great part of town, and I didn¡¯t want to show up to work with my mom¡­ you know. That would be¡­ lame. If I do well in the internship I might actually work there for a bit before I try and find a better job. And I don¡¯t want to be the guy that everyone remembers having his mom drop him off.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair, I guess.¡± She looked a little sad that he didn¡¯t want to be seen with her. ¡°But what part of town is it? What¡¯s the name of the business? Do I have to sign anything? Do you have paperwork from them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over by that building that used to have the Mexican restaurant with the really good pollo fundido.¡± He knew she would be familiar with the area, and that she wouldn¡¯t be thrilled


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Albert. I don¡¯t want you walking over there. It¡¯s really far and if you¡¯re there late¡­¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be¡­ Amy got accepted too, and she has pretty much full access to her dad''s car. If I took the internship we¡¯d probably go together.¡± Albert cringed at the implication that he¡¯d be spending a lot of extra time with Amy. But, really, the safety of the neighborhood seemed like the least of his problems. ¡°And I think I forgot my application stuff in her car¡­¡±


    ¡°Have you been driving around with Amy a lot lately?¡±


    ¡°She saw me walking to school the other day and offered to give me a ride because she thought I looked like I was limping.¡± Albert was getting deeper in to the territory of actual lies and wanted to change topics. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to sign any of the paperwork though. But I can show it to you¡­ Monday. I guess. I don¡¯t have Amy¡¯s phone number and I don¡¯t know exactly where she lives, so I won¡¯t run into her again until school.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you know her number?¡± Albert¡¯s mom became suspicious immediately at the implication.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a cell phone, mom. I¡¯m not giving a girl my home phone number, even if we¡¯re just friends.¡±


    Her suspicion dropped immediately at the lie. Though, it wasn¡¯t exactly a lie. Albert didn¡¯t have a phone, and he wouldn¡¯t have given out his home phone number to anyone out of embarrassment. What if someone called him and his mother answered? He would have died. Though, now that he had literally died, he thought better of phrasing his reaction in those terms.


    ¡°So, why haven¡¯t you decided yet?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ there¡¯s some stuff I¡¯m not sure about yet. Like, do I want to work with the people there? Is this something that I want to do for a long period of time? The internship lasts the rest of the school year and it would be during school hours. And I kind of wanted your opinion too¡­ once I realized that I¡¯d gotten accepted at least.¡±


    ¡°I think¡­¡± She paused to let out a deep breath. ¡°I think it¡¯s probably a really good opportunity. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll get a lot more like it. And it¡¯s always good to gain professional experience where you can. Even if you don¡¯t think you want to do anything related to debt or finance law after the internship, you¡¯re probably going to learn some valuable skills that you can use in other ways and in other jobs.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°And it will look good on a resume¡­ or a college application.¡±


    His mother¡¯s practical reasons fell short of the dilemma he was facing, but she couldn¡¯t know the whole thing. There wasn¡¯t a practical way that Albert could convey the real struggle in his mind without telling her more than she should know.


    ¡°What¡¯s with that look? Is there something else?¡±


    ¡°Kind of. It¡¯s kind of unrelated.¡± Albert thought about how to phrase his dilemma as a question that she could answer. ¡°There¡¯s another kid in one of my classes¡­ and he applied for the internship too. But he didn¡¯t get accepted. And so, he¡¯s mad at me because I did. But I know, that if I turn it down and there¡¯s the possibility that he gets in instead as a second choice, he¡¯ll still be mad at me. Like, no matter what I do, I feel like I¡¯m going to get on his bad side and it¡¯s going to cause drama.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rough. Kids your age are so mean. I don¡¯t think kids were that mean when I was in school.¡± She bit her lip in contemplation. ¡°If that¡¯s what¡¯s bothering you about the internship, take him out of the picture and consider what your choice would be. If he wasn¡¯t mad at you, if he wasn¡¯t even around, would you take the internship?¡±


    Albert paused to try and apply her solution to his problem. No matter what he did, Death was going to linger and try to keep his claws in him. If he accepted the internship, he¡¯d be working for him and things would be less sneaky. If he turned down the internship, Death would find some other way to get what he wanted from Albert¡­ and it would probably be a much less straightforward process.


    But if Death weren¡¯t in the scenario at all¡­ If Albert was given the opportunity to just arbitrate souls on his own, doing what he could to ease the stress and pain people caused when they passed away... Albert would accept that immediately.


    ¡°I think¡­ I think I¡¯d take it.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if he actually would¡­ the thought of working with Death and Hope didn¡¯t make him comfortable at all, but having his mom¡¯s feedback helped. She had a good point. If there was a chance to do the work he¡¯d be doing for Death, without Death. He¡¯d do it. Even if it was still with Hope. And Amy would make the whole thing feel safer. He felt he could trust her to have a reliable and honest opinion regardless of what he chose.


    "I think you should take it then."

 Chapter Nineteen: The Second Contract

    Albert had spent the weekend at home, occasionally talking to his mom about his worries regarding the internship. Though, when it came to more serious points he had to disguise certain things as something else. Like talking about Hope as a teacher¡¯s daughter, instead of the boss¡¯s daughter, and certainly never using her actual name. He knew his mom thought there was still something he wasn¡¯t telling her, but he hoped she could chalk it up to a teenage boy not wanting to tell him mother all about his life. He doubted most teenagers shared everything they did with their parents, even if they were very close. It still felt wrong to hide things from her, but if it meant keeping her safe from the dangerous world he¡¯d gotten caught up in and he could live with that.


    When Monday came, and Albert left for school, he half expected Amy to find him on his way there. But he didn¡¯t see her, or her car, as he walked there. It wasn¡¯t until the last possible minute before his first class started that she stumbled into the classroom and took her seat on the opposite side.


    Albert was still getting odd looks from his classmates, but it didn¡¯t bother and distract him as much as it had the day before. It felt normal now, almost natural, to have the concerned attention of the other people around him. He still had bandages and gauze over his hands, and there was no hiding that. But if someone gave him a curious look or stared at him long enough for Albert to catch them, he would just shrug and that would be the end of it. The casual approach to dealing with teenagers seemed to be working. Though for the first few periods of the day, he couldn¡¯t get hold of Amy. She was in all of his classes, but she never sat near him and wouldn¡¯t look in his direction.


    Finally, when the lunch bell rang and everyone scrambled out of the classroom, Albert caught up to her and got her attention.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on? Are you avoiding me? I thought you were supposed to be, like¡­ a liaison or something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been instructed to lay low and not raise suspicions.¡± Amy growled. Albert hadn¡¯t expected a foul mood, but he didn¡¯t blame her for the way she felt. ¡°I guess that means not being seen around you as much. It¡¯s¡­ really dumb and arbitrary.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean. But I do need to talk to you.¡±


    Amy let Albert pull her to the side of the hallway outside of the classroom to talk away from the thinning crowd of students.


    ¡°So, you decided?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think I¡¯m going to do it. Death¡¯s going to try and manipulate me either way, I may as well take the option where I have some more choice, right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about having more choice. But you are right, Death¡¯s probably gunning for you. He made me fork over all the notes and information I have on you.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ wait. What?¡± Albert paused, uncomfortable with the idea that Amy had been taking notes on him. It was creepy in the same way that being stalked was creepy¡­ but less threatening. But only because Albert knew if Amy wanted to hurt him, she¡¯d just do it.


    ¡°I take notes on all the arbitrators I work with. I like to know the styles and approaches people use, the attitudes they have towards the work, that sort of thing. It helps me do my job easier.¡±


    Albert was a little less put off by her explanation, but now he was worried about what Death wanted with those notes.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I write down anything I don¡¯t expect to be read later by someone else. So there¡¯s hardly any personal stuff in there. I think I might have mentioned your mom once, but that¡¯s mostly in the ¡®do not contact form.¡¯ Apart from that, I don¡¯t think you should be particularly worried about him having my notes.¡±


    ¡°About my mom. I told her about a few things, nothing dangerous for her to know¡­¡±


    ¡°Hold that.¡± Amy interrupted him. ¡°I should remind you, Hope can force me to do whatever she wants. So anything you tell me, she can know if she asks the right questions.¡±


    ¡°Right, that¡­¡± Albert didn¡¯t know how to phrase the question he¡¯d been wanting to ask since Hope had forced her to punch a tree.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to explain why she can do that. It¡¯s personal¡­ kind of. I¡¯d rather not share it.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Albert went back to the request he¡¯d been about to make. ¡°I need some documentation and information that won¡¯t be, like, dangerous for my mom to see. She wanted to see my internship application and information on the company. She knows where it is, so if I don¡¯t show her something she¡¯ll try and figure out stuff on her own.¡±


    ¡°Well that was a mistake.¡± Amy sighed. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have told her where it was.¡±


    ¡°I was caught in a ramble of things to try and divert her attention. I couldn¡¯t help it.¡±


    ¡°Now there¡¯s a chance she¡¯ll show up.¡± Amy pressed her palm against her face and let out a groan. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s not great. The firm doesn¡¯t really have much paperwork. It¡¯s mostly a front. But Death had to get some paperwork done to work with the school¡­ or Hope did it. Either way, I¡¯ll see what I can get from the school administrators office¡­ and I guess... I guess I can forge the rest.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to forge things. That¡¯s. That¡¯s a lot. I can¡¯t pay you for that.¡±


    ¡°No. Albert. I¡¯m doing it.¡± Amy had a suddenly very forceful tone to her voice. ¡°Family is one of the most valuable things anyone can have. You don¡¯t mess with someones family, and you don''t let anyone else mess with someone else''s family.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, exactly. He was touched, but he could tell there was some deeper personal motivation behind her words. He also could tell that she¡¯d probably never tell him what it was. He didn¡¯t mind that part so much, but it made him curious.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go do it now, actually.¡± Amy turned to go towards the administrative office, but Albert stopped her.


    ¡°I also told her that you were taking the internship too, so you can still stop by and she¡¯ll probably expect to see you dropping me off back at the apartment.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s good actually.¡± Amy nodded. ¡°I can work with that.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Albert did his best to give Amy a genuine smile, but she turned away abruptly and made her way down the hall.


    ¡°Meet me at the park after school, we can go from there.¡± Amy called back. Albert didn¡¯t get a chance to respond.


    He spent the rest of the school day half paying attention to classes, nervous all over again for a completely different reason. The last class of the day seemed to drag on forever, but when the bell finally rang Albert practically bolted out of his seat and towards the door. He hadn¡¯t seen Amy in any of his classes after lunch, so he suspected she¡¯d been working on getting some documentation for him the entire time. Once he saw her at the same chess table in the park, though, he realized that something else had probably happened. Hope was sitting across the table from her and they were playing a game with much more expensive looking metal and glass chess pieces.


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    ¡°Albert, take a seat.¡± Hope patted the curved stone bench she was sitting on.


    There was enough room for Albert to sit next to her, but he politely declined and stood by the side of the table instead.


    ¡°Fair enough, we¡¯re almost done anyway.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you want to play like this.¡± Amy sighed. She was in visible pain as she moved her rook across the board.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡± Hope smiled brightly as she moved a her bishop into a checking position. ¡°Checkmate.¡±


    Amy growled at Hope and gave her a disgusted look before knocking over her own king and letting out a defeated sigh.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine when Albert wins because of luck. But this has easily been the worst game of chess we have ever played.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± Hope rolled her eyes. ¡°Albert, did you want to have a go? I¡¯m not as good as Amy, but I figure you aren¡¯t either when you don¡¯t rely on luck.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m good.¡± Albert frowned at the invitation. ¡°I was hoping to get some paperwork from Amy, but I guess you distracted her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got the paperwork, actually. I ran into Amy while I was trying to bribe one of your school administrators. I made her tell me what she was doing and had it taken care of.¡± Hope reached into her purse and produced a very official looking brochure along with several papers that, at first glance, appeared to be an accepted application with his signature and information on it along with several other documents about the internship program.


    It was very detailed and very specific for something that had likely been put together in under three hours.


    ¡°Thanks. I guess.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I treat my employees very well. You needed this, and it wasn¡¯t hard to do.¡±


    ¡°You made the administrator do most of the work.¡± Amy interjected.


    ¡°We made an agreement. I paid her, she produced the documents, and she can retire now.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t want to know how much money Hope had spent to get the paperwork. But he was glad to have it.


    ¡°And I¡¯m glad you''ve decided to accept my father¡¯s offer, Albert. It will be nice to work with someone a little less¡­ familiar.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, until you get bored of him.¡± Amy interjected again.


    ¡°This is why I always send you away to punch trees and things, Amy.¡± Hope sighed. ¡°I even told you to shut up and you still keep talking. How did you manage that one?¡±


    ¡°That was more of a general passing statement than a command.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll make sure I tell you more directly what I want. Every. Single. Time. Like a micromanaging slave driver. Is that what you want?¡±


    Amy remained silent.


    ¡°Okay, didn¡¯t think so.¡± Hope turned back to Albert. ¡°Are you ready to get the real paperwork signed, then?¡±


    Albert hadn¡¯t even thought about that part of accepting the internship. Of course there was going to be some sort of soul binding contract in order for him to work with Death. Even when the last contract hadn¡¯t fully taken effect and fixed his eyes all the way. Albert had been walking around with slight cracks in the vision of his left eye since Friday. He was not thrilled about having to sign another piece of paper written out by Death, but he didn''t see any way around it either.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡± Hope held her hand out to Albert. ¡°Here, grab my hand like this.¡±


    Hope positioned Albert¡¯s hand under hers in a sort of awkward cupping hand hold. Albert was uncomfortable with the forced physical touch, but didn¡¯t make it known.


    ¡°Amy, if you would do the honors.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course.¡±


    Amy retrieved the same pen that she and Albert had used during his various attempts at arbitration. Rather than hand it over, Amy gripped it firmly in her hand like a dagger and plunged the point down into Hope¡¯s waiting palm. Albert flinched, half expecting the sharp point of the pen to go completely through Hope¡¯s hand and into his, but Hope grabbed hold of his hand with her free one and sandwiched it between both of her hands to keep his flinching palm from retreating out of her grasp.


    Albert had closed his eyes just before the pen struck Hope¡¯s hand. When he opened them, the three of them were standing in Hope¡¯s office at the debt collection agency. Albert withdrew his hand cautiously, but met no resistance now that the deed was done. He was confused, but not without a guess as to what had happened. Amy had always handed him the pen to go to the arbitration room, so it sort of made sense that it was used to go other places as well. But Albert couldn¡¯t begin to fathom how this process worked.


    Hope led Albert out of the office and into an empty reception area. Amy followed casually behind him. The door to Death¡¯s office was cracked open and Albert could just barely see the man sitting at his desk. Hope opened the door and strolled in causally.


    ¡°It looks like Albert is on board.¡± Hope exclaimed excitedly.


    ¡°Wonderful.¡± Death looked up from whatever it was he had been writing and looked at Albert. A twisted sort of grin spread across his face. ¡°I am so pleased to hear that you have decided to join our team. Please, have a seat so we can go through the paperwork.¡±


    Albert sat down in the same chair he had taken a few days before, while Hope took the one next to him. Amy stayed standing, opting to lean against the frame of the open door.


    ¡°Before we get to the matter of signing you in as an arbitrator, I should cover something I forgot the other day.¡± Death retrieved two separate stacks of paper from a wide desk drawer in front of him. ¡°You are entitled to review the titles of spiritual property recovered from your contracts.¡±


    Death slipped the shorter stack of paper forward to Albert. Much of the page was written in what Albert thought looked like Latin, but there were sections that looked like English translations. The documents outlined three items of spiritual property. The first was an ornate gold ring with a flat face and an insignia, the document listed it as having been the property of Markus. The other two items, a smoking pipe described as being made from ivory and a plot of land in a place Albert had never heard of, were both listed as previously belonging to Arnie.


    ¡°Three pieces from two random contracts is pretty good Albert. You really are lucky.¡± Hope turned to Albert and gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. Somehow it came across as hollow and sarcastic.


    ¡°Albert, as outlined in our original contract, we are to settle the ownership of these items between us.¡± Death reached back under his desk and one by one retrieved the ring, the pipe, and a piece of paper that Albert guess was a land title deed.


    Albert didn¡¯t know what to expect when he saw the items in front of him. Because they were spiritual property, he didn¡¯t really know how he was seeing them or how Death had produced them from his desk. But he knew if he questioned it out loud, he likely wasn¡¯t going to get a straight answer.


    ¡°I am willing to part with one of these. Though, in particular, I do not care which.¡± Death made sure to have his hand visibly pressed against the surface of his desk before he spoke. ¡°Unless, of course, you would like to make a case for you to claim more than one.¡±


    ¡°No. No. I¡­ one is fine.¡± Albert didn¡¯t really know what to do with the choices placed before him. It almost felt wrong to divvy up Markus¡¯ and Arnie¡¯s former possessions, like he was splitting the loot after a robbery. ¡°The ring.¡±


    Albert felt better about taking Markus¡¯ ring. The personal agreement they¡¯d made felt more worthy of the transfer than what he had signed for with Arnie.


    ¡°Very well. I would be lying if this ring did not appeal to me the most out of these items, but I am not at a loss for adornments.¡± Death waved his hand over the three items, and each vanished as his hand passed over them.


    Death retrieve the papers outlining the items as well, or at least the ones for the pipe and land. He left the paper that described the ring for Albert to take.


    ¡°As for your internship,¡± Death pushed over the other stack of papers that he had originally retrieved, ¡°these terms are not up for negotiation. However, I would not blame you if you review them and decide to decline the offer.¡±


    Albert nodded slowly to Death as he picked up the papers and read them over slowly. He could feel the three other sets of eyes in the room watching him.


    There were several things in the contract that Albert had not expected. They weren¡¯t necessarily bad, some of them were actually nice to have in writing, but he hadn¡¯t been prepared for what he was reading. The contract explicitly provided protection from use of force or other harmful acts carried out against him by Death and other employees and associates of Death. But Death also specified that the internship could be ended at any time and for any reason that he chose. To Albert, the combination of those two ideas meant that Albert was safe from other people that worked with Death, but not Death himself. His internship could be ended on a dime and Death could kill him on the spot if he wanted. It would be in poor form, but Albert didn¡¯t think that would bother anyone.


    The contract also didn¡¯t go into specifics of what his role would be when working with Death or Hope. It specified that he would be completing tasks for either or both of them, but not what those tasks were limited to¡­ if anything. The contract prevented him from being directed in such a way that he was abused, like what Albert imagined Hope had Amy do on a regular basis. But that also wasn¡¯t very reassuring if that had to be added in to begin with.


    Nothing else in the contract caught his attention. He definitely read all of it, but he couldn¡¯t see any way it could be exploited or used against him that was as obvious as the contract being terminated at the drop of a hat. Albert didn¡¯t see a reason why he shouldn¡¯t sign, at least not one that was better than the reasons that he should.


    So, gently, Albert picked up the pen that had been left on the desk for him and signed his name on the last page of the contract.


    Albert William Carol


    ¡°Glad to have you with us, Albert.¡± Death grinned as he took the contract back. ¡°So very glad.¡±

 Chapter Twenty: The Arbitrators Toolkit

    ¡°Alright, you should be set. There¡¯s your ink, quill, parchment, associates list¡ªwhich should be self-updating¡ªand a company phone.¡± Milli, the clerk at the front of the office has been stacking papers in front of Albert for what felt like half an hour and he had been overwhelmed after the first two. ¡°And, starting tomorrow, you¡¯ll be going out on assignment with Graham. He¡¯s an old hat at this, so you¡¯ll be in good hands.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Graham is good at what he does.¡± Amy said with a nod. ¡°Just treat him like you treat me and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Albert wanted to ask questions and object to what was being laid out in front of him, but something about the way Amy was patting his shoulder told him that he should shut up and accept what he was being given. He had accepted the terms already, he just thought it wouldn¡¯t work out precisely as it was.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Was all he managed to squeak out.


    ¡°And don¡¯t worry about your file, nothing on there has really changed apart from your status as a permanent associate.¡±


    Amy¡¯s comment actually calmed Albert down some. He knew what she was talking about. His file, which, now that he was thinking about it he had no idea what that actually was, would still specify that only Amy could show up at his house. Which meant that he was still probably going to have some level of contact with her. After all, she was the only person in the whole building he actually felt like he could trust. Even if she wasn¡¯t entirely trustworthy.


    ¡°Right.¡± Albert nodded along with Amy. Somehow, the motion helped him calm down and process what it was he was actually doing. ¡°So, I can go home now?¡±


    Amy checked her watch. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been long enough. You should probably be fine.¡±


    She said that, but she was still fully reclined in her chair. It looked like she had no intention of going anywhere. Amy was, however, his ride and he had no other way of getting home apart from walking through one of the worst parts of town. And he really didn¡¯t want to do that. Walking down the street alone wasn¡¯t something Albert was eager to do again for a while.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Albert started, tilting his head down towards Amy.


    ¡°Oh, heck. Right. Your quill.¡± Amy gestured to the, rather plain, feather quill sitting on the stack of papers in Albert¡¯s lap. ¡°You don¡¯t need me to get around anymore, so long as you have that. And I¡¯m warn you now, never lose it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the same kind of quill I have. It¡¯s imbued with power specifically to aid people that do what we all do. It can put people in arbitration rooms, write contracts, and it can take you places. But yours will have some limitations since you haven¡¯t contracted that many people.¡±


    ¡°So I can just hold it and think home and I¡¯ll go home?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got three destinations to use. One of them defaults to your collector, which is Graham for now. So you can pop in on him whenever you like, not that I recommend doing that. I suggest you make the office another set point, probably somewhere out back where no one will see you pop up. And I also suggest you make another set point somewhere close to home; again, somewhere where people won¡¯t see you just pop up.¡±


    ¡°Does this thing come with a manual?¡± Albert joked, but the look on Amy¡¯s face said that it actually might but it was complicated.


    ¡°Would you like the manual, dear?¡± Milli asked, inserting herself back into the conversation.


    ¡°Maybe¡­ later?¡± Albert was confused as he was taking in Amy¡¯s facial cues, but it looked like he¡¯d given the right answer.


    Amy nodded in encouragement. ¡°You can read the manual on your own time, but you should probably get home. So, I recommend you go out back and I¡¯ll show you how to set a location.¡±


    Albert nodded and began to pack all of the things he¡¯d been handed into his backpack. He was hesitant at first to touch the quill, but he wasn¡¯t getting any sort of direction from Amy not to. It didn¡¯t do anything when he did, but something told him that it had to do with the quill being his. Once everything was in the bag, apart from the quill and the phone he¡¯d been given¡ªan extremely basic looking flip phone¡ªwhich was now in his pocket. As soon as he was packed up, Amy rocked forward from her chair and onto her feet and led the way out of the building and around behind it.


    Once they were both in the cramped space behind the building, which was about four feet wide and sandwiched between the grubby exterior of the structure and the chain link and barbed wire fence behind it, Albert had intended to ask what he needed to do. But Amy, in an act that shouldn¡¯t have surprised him at all, signaled for him to be quiet. She was peering around the small space intently, head craning towards the barred windows on the back of the building. It was a minute before she turned back to Albert and spoke.


    ¡°I need to level with you, this isn¡¯t going to be pleasant.¡± Amy¡¯s expression was severe. ¡°And I don¡¯t just mean the quill. But you need to be a lot more careful with everyone else that works for Death. You¡¯re going to need to be comfortable with lying on a regular basis. Milli seems nice, but she works here for a reason. Graham won¡¯t care much what you do, but he can be reigned in like Hope can control me. I¡¯m betting Death will have him reporting back on almost everything you do.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± Albert wasn¡¯t sure how to respond to what he was hearing, but he felt grateful for the heads up. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re being so secretive?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s just the unpleasant part. I want to catch you up a bit. There are some things you should know that no one else is going to tell you, and I might get in a little trouble for telling you. Like not to ask for help.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯ve asked you for help a bunch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m not about to try and take advantage of you.¡± Amy pressed her index fingers to her forehead in a little steeple. ¡°When you ask for help with things that don¡¯t directly pertain to work, it can be take as an unspoken debt. Like if you¡¯d asked for Milli to get you the manual for the quill, she might use that as an opportunity to have you owe her a favor.¡±


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    ¡°And that¡¯s¡­ bad?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t quite sure how owing someone a favor could be bad. Yes there were bad favors that people could ask him to do, but they couldn¡¯t have been that bad.


    ¡°It can be very bad. Because you can¡¯t exactly say no to that kind of favor. As long as there¡¯s a reasonable correlation in value, people that work here could bind you into almost any kind of arrangement. And the refusal to do so can be very bad.¡±


    Albert paused, something about what Amy was saying didn¡¯t seem to add up. ¡°What about my contract? Didn¡¯t it specify that Death¡¯s associates wouldn¡¯t be able to harm me?¡±


    ¡°Harm, yes. Hold you accountable for your actions and agreements¡­ not so much. If you default on an agreement, without establishing some sort of default baseline on defaulting on the agreement, you get held to the natural standards of contracting. And that means you lose all your spiritual holdings. For you, that can include your own soul.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Albert whispered, more to himself than Amy. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±


    ¡°And that might be something Death is counting on. He can deprive any of his associates he has under contract of their position and lay claim to their belongings through arbitration. He may have even encouraged some of the associates to make get you to default as an easier way of getting your spiritual property.¡±


    Almost immediately upon hearing Amy describe the situation, Albert realized that she had known this all along. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to warm me about this before?¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t even occur to me until you asked about the manual. It¡¯s not something I really have to worry about, since I don¡¯t own any spiritual property. Not anything anyone could lay claim to anyway.¡±


    Frustration was boiling up in Albert¡¯s mind, and he could feel himself getting red in the face. The trust that he had been counting on, while still being there, was proving to be too confident. Amy was knowledgeable, and she seemed to have his best interests at heart for some reason, but she was also in a side of the world Albert was entering that he wouldn¡¯t be interacting with. Her experience, while large, didn¡¯t full encompass what he needed to know.


    ¡°Calm down, please.¡± Amy held her hands out as she spoke, her eyes again darting around the back of the building. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, all right? I¡¯m not exactly great at helping people. But you¡¯re¡­ you probably shouldn¡¯t have gotten wrapped up in any of this. But I don¡¯t see a way out for you. So, you need to be smart. Smart, and calm.¡±


    Albert took a deep breath in and out before he spoke again. ¡°Alright. This is going to suck, but I can do it.¡±


    Amy smiled, almost proud as Albert repeated the mantra. ¡°You got it. Lucky for you, you are absurdly lucky. Lucky, and you¡¯ve got me in your corner. Just remember, no favors.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Albert said with a single nod. ¡°No favors. What about this quill then?¡±


    ¡°Already quick on your feet, aren¡¯t you. You¡¯re going to have to phrase things like that. Be non-committal. If your phrasing doesn¡¯t actually ask for help but still takes the form of a question like that, you¡¯ll be a lot safer.¡±


    Amy gave Albert a pat on the shoulder in encouragement and produced her own quill. Albert followed suit.


    ¡°Okay. Two things you need to be aware of with your quill. Intent, and consequences. Your quill functions on your intent, but there are consequences every time you use it. Like this.¡±


    With her left hand held out in front of her, Amy jabbed the quill down into her waiting open palm. As she did so, the moment the nib pierced her skin, she vanished.


    ¡°The price is pain.¡± Amy said, her voice now coming from behind Albert. ¡°Of blood. I¡¯m not entirely sure. My blood doesn¡¯t stay outside me very long anymore. And while there isn¡¯t a price to get into an arbitration room, just intent, failing arbitration is kind of the price.¡±


    Albert had spun around at the sound of her voice, only to see her standing behind him in much the same pose she had just been in. But now the quill was above her palm and there wasn¡¯t a scratch on her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to be more careful. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll heal quite as fast as I do, so any wounds you make should be easy to conceal and small.¡±


    ¡°So, I can prick my fingertip¡­ or jab my shoulder?¡±


    ¡°Both good options, but your fingertip will be a bit more obvious. Your mom might ask why you always have a bandage on your finger if you need to cover it up. Just find something that works for you.¡±


    ¡°Okay, how do I set a location to show up at?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s intent. You have to intentionally want to go somewhere and set it as a fixed point for you to travel to. And when you pay the price, it¡¯s a set location.¡±


    ¡°So, I just think, I want that spot to be my location¡­ and I just¡ª¡± Albert held his quill absently and as he pressed his thumb down gently on the nib he found himself standing somewhere else. ¡°Hell, that¡¯s sharp as¡ªgah.¡±


    Amid his hissing and moaning, Albert realized that he had appeared where he had indicated. It was exciting, in a sense, though it would have been better if it hadn¡¯t come with an equal amount of pain. As he stood there, thumb in his mouth to stop the blood that had begun to drip, he thought it was probably pain that was the consequence, not blood. He had plenty of blood, but the amount that was dripping out wasn¡¯t as bad as the pain.


    ¡°Careful, it¡¯s sharp.¡± Amy warned, smirk on her face. ¡°But yeah. As long as you¡¯ve been somewhere and you can visualize it with the intent to go there, you can make it a destination. I also recommend not jabbing yourself on any of your finger pads, it hurts worse.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t warn me on purpose that time.¡± Albert hissed, the pain slowly fading. ¡°But I¡¯ll take your advice into account for next time.¡±


    Amy¡¯s smile, and it was odd to see her smile so much, wasn¡¯t fading. Albert felt like he was her student and she was enjoying his successes as much as he was; though, without the pain that accompanied them.


    ¡°One last thing, before you prick yourself again and accidentally wind up somewhere you don¡¯t want to be.¡± Amy held up her own quill as she spoke. ¡°Your quill is part of your role as an arbitrator the same way mine is part of my role as a collector. The more success you have in your role, the more places you can set as a destination and the more impressive it will look. Both are important. The way it looks might not sound like it¡¯s important, but it is. Trust me. People judge you a lot by the tools you use.¡±


    Albert looked down at his own quill. It was a plain looking speckled feather that looked like it could have been bought at a craft store, and the nib was a small tarnished brass tip without any detail to speak of apart from the slit the ink moved through. It didn¡¯t look as large as Amy¡¯s either, though that could have been entirely circumstantial.


    ¡°I think I got it.¡±


    ¡°And my number is programmed in your phone, so if you need help you can text me. Hope can ask to see my texts at any time, or just ask me what I¡¯ve been texting, but you can ask generic questions.¡±


    It was starting to feel like Amy was behaving more like a worried mother than a teacher. And while they was more than a little silly to think about, because she still looked like she was about the same age as he was, it was also reassuring. She felt like she genuinely cared, though he doubted she would be as open about the way she felt any time soon.


    ¡°Hey. Maybe you should calm down. Luck is on my side, remember?¡± Albert joked. ¡°And I thin I¡¯ll be able to make it a day or two without you looking over my shoulder.¡±


    ¡°You had better.¡± Amy growled, not in anger exactly, but it felt protective. ¡°I¡¯ve put a lot of effort into keeping you alive. You had better not squander it.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    Albert gave Amy one last reassuring smile before he poked the nib gently against his shoulder. The quill poked through the sleeve of his shirt effortlessly, and as soon as it touched his skin he was gone.

 Chapter Twenty-One: Tentative Parental Guidance

    Albert had selected a location near his apartment he could show up at that no one would see. He knew no one would see because it was a place no one ever looked, himself included. He had only had the faintest memory of being there and had only actually been there twice. Once technically, but he considered it to be two times.


    The alleyway where Dickie and Austin had dragged his corpse wasn¡¯t so close to his apartment building that anyone there would see him coming and going, but it wasn¡¯t so far away that walking back home from there would be inconvenient. It didn¡¯t have the most pleasant memories associated with it, but it was the most ideal place Albert could think of on short notice.


    Appearing in that partially enclosed space brought back memories. Namely, the memory of waking up half dead after signing his contract with Death. His body had been there the whole time¡ªwhich was why he had only technically been there once¡ªand he had been eager to leave. And now that he was looking more closely at the alleyway itself, Albert could see a small blotch of red on the concrete by a dumpster. If he was recalling the position he¡¯d woken up in correctly, that blotch was his own blood. And as unnerving as it was to see, it also felt like it marked the alleyway as his territory in some dark and uncomfortable way.


    ¡°I guess this is my checkpoint now.¡± Albert muttered to himself as he exited the alleyway and walked up the street towards his apartment. ¡°Better get used to it I guess.¡±


    The walk home was quiet, and the new objects jostling around in Albert¡¯s backpack made him nervous. If just seeing something of potential value had gotten him killed the first time, what would the sound of something potentially valuable cause? Then again, who knew if the sound of an ink pot clacking against a class ring sounded valuable. These weren¡¯t things Albert had ever thought of before, and the attention he was giving them now bothered him. He¡¯d grown more paranoid in a matter of days than most people ever became in their whole lives.


    But there was good reason to be paranoid. Death could have been lurking around any corner. Literally or figuratively. And the more Albert thought about it, the more eyes he imagined were locked on to his every movement. It wasn¡¯t until the door to the apartment was locked behind him that he felt even an ounce of safety.


    ¡°You made it back.¡± Albert¡¯s mom said, her voice absent as she sat on the couch with the TV on.


    The sudden speaking caught Albert off guard and he jumped.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten in to you?¡± She sounded genuinely worried, dropping the barrier of disinterest at the first sign of trouble.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I signed on for the internship.¡± Albert started, but didn¡¯t exactly know where to go from there. ¡°And Amy was talking to me on the way back about something, about the owner of the place I¡¯d be working at. I guess I was just nervous after that.¡±


    ¡°What kind of things? What¡¯s his name?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember his full name, but I think his last name is Hook.¡± He regretted that immediately, it was information that he didn¡¯t want his mother to know. Knowing one of the names on the front of the business that Death used as a cover might give his mom the information she needed to find it. ¡°Or Hake or something. It started with an H. But apparently he has a history of encouraging¡­ less than honest deals. And there are some people that aren¡¯t too happy with him.¡±


    The latter part of that statement hadn¡¯t been fully honest, but it stood to reason that it was likely. Albert didn¡¯t dare say what was really bothering him; the mixture of fear for his own safety and the weight of all the power he¡¯d just been given. If he told her anything, she¡¯d find out too much. But, for once, it was all he wanted to do.


    ¡°Do you have any of the paperwork about the internship?¡±


    Albert could tell his mother¡¯s curiosity was growing. She hadn¡¯t forgotten that he¡¯d mentioned that he¡¯d had the paperwork. And he had it now, but it was in his backpack along with all the other miscellanea he¡¯d been provided with by Death¡¯s office. More things he would have to hide from her. And it occurred to him that there was virtually nowhere he could hide them.


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    ¡°Yeah. Can I go put my stuff down first?


    ¡°Of course, go clean up if you want to. I¡¯m not going to head in to work until five, the prep team should be fine on their own today.¡±


    Both of the things his mother had told him were highly unusual. It wasn¡¯t like her to put off a conversation and she never liked to leave any of the other cooks to do the prep on their own. It was one of the things she was adamant about. Good prep always made for good cooking, and good cooking made happy customers. She put a lot of pressure on herself, even though she wasn¡¯t the head chef, to keep things at her job working smoothly. Albert knew that she hoped her good example and hard work would get her promotions, and she¡¯d gotten them before, but now she was completely disregarding her whole pattern of work behavior.


    Albert didn¡¯t respond. He knew that if he described what he was going to do too much, his mom would just get more suspicious and she was definitely already suspicious. So he went ahead and made his way back to his bedroom and deposited his backpack in the same place he always did, on his chair in front of the small desk he used for homework, and quickly dug through all the paperwork and items he¡¯d gotten for the documentation that Hope had made for him. Or rather, the documentation that she¡¯d paid someone else to make for him. It was all there though, a little crumpled but perfectly legitimate. The name of the agency was on the pages as well, so perhaps there was some sort of safeguard that would prevent his mother from getting placed at further risk.


    ¡°Here. That¡¯s the whole thing.¡± Albert dropped the pages gently on the coffee table in front of his mother.


    She was careful not to be too quick to react, and Albert could tell she was putting on some kind of act, but she was still relatively at ease as she sat up and shut the TV off. She gave every page a close examination, and when she was done she stacked the papers neatly back in the same order she¡¯d picked them up in. Albert couldn¡¯t read her expression at all; she seemed intent to be as stone faced as she could.


    ¡°And this is something you still want to do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think it will be a good experience.¡±


    ¡°Even with this Mr. William Hook being in charge?¡±


    ¡°I think I can manage working there despite him being the boss.¡± Albert nodded, slowly, trying to convince himself of the same thing. ¡°I¡¯ve barely had to talk to him at all so far and he seems like the type to be very involved in his own part of the business and not deal much with anything else.¡±


    ¡°A delegator, huh?¡± Was his mother¡¯s only reply. The way she said it made her sound more like a shrewd businesswoman and less like a sous-chef at a catering restaurant.


    ¡°I¡¯m honestly worried about being around Grim more. She¡¯s a bit of a pain to deal with.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Grim¡¯s a woman?¡± Her expression changed entirely to one more familiar to Albert. Worry about him being around women without supervision.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about me being around her, don¡¯t be. She¡¯s plenty older than me and not the kind of person I like being around. You¡¯d probably hate her too.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her first name, then? If you know it. I want to steer clear of her if I ever have to stop by.¡±


    ¡°Hope. Hope Grim.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± His mother¡¯s more jovial tone as she scoffed at the name made him feel comfortable. ¡°Her name is Hope Grim and she works in debt collection?¡±


    ¡°They finance bail bonds too.¡± Albert added, not completely sure if that would make it funnier or more problematic.


    ¡°Goodness, Al, you found an internship at a circus.¡±


    ¡°They dress really nice, though, so I think they might actually be making decent amount of money.¡± At least, Hope dressed in luxury. Death looked like he could care less about what he wore as long as it was black and imposing.


    ¡°Maybe we should get you some nice clothes, then.¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    ¡°Maybe just some nice shoes?¡±


    ¡°Mom, we don¡¯t need to spend money just so I can look a little nicer for an internship.¡±


    ¡°But what if you end up working there long term? You don¡¯t want to look like¡­¡± She couldn¡¯t bring herself to say what she was about to. To say that they were poor and didn¡¯t have the means to survive on their own. ¡°I¡¯m going to write to your uncle and see if he can tell me about anywhere that knows that sells nice clothes.¡±


    There was no stopping her this time. She¡¯d already dredged up the paper and envelopes after the last time she had been about to send a letter. Albert just let her do it. She was already writing before he could even say anything, and it was going to take a while.


    Albert walked quietly, and mildly defeated, back to his bedroom and locked the door. The lock hardly mattered; his mom had a pin key she had made from a wire coat hanger that she could just stick in the knob on the outside and unlock the door. But it was an extra level of effort that she would need to go to, and if he heard her rattle the knob and then go get the key it would give him an extra couple of seconds to hide anything he needed to.


    Without anything better to do¡ªbesides homework, and he wasn¡¯t about to waste any of his time doing that¡ªAlbert laid out the items he¡¯d gotten from Death¡¯s office out on his bed. All the documents, the quill, the ink, the phone, and the ring. Or rather, the paper that detailed Markus¡¯ ring and his ownership of it. And he sat and stared at all of them in silence for what felt like an hour. The whole time, trying to come to grips with what it all meant.

 Chapter Twenty-Two: Graham

    The phone buzzed. Albert had been half asleep, upright in his desk chair while he kept guard over the items that set him apart as an arbitrator. They were like ticking time bombs. His mother would find them eventually, and it wasn¡¯t practical for him to have them all the time. He wasn¡¯t a veritable machine like Amy who seemed to be able to carry everything she owned on her back and not slouch an inch. There were so many things about her that confused Albert, and that wasn¡¯t anywhere near the top of the list, but at that moment he envied her in that regard.


    Even though his mother was gone for the night, Albert jumped at the slight sound the phone¡¯s vibration caused. And it just kept going off, Albert wasn¡¯t entirely sure what was happening. Was it a phone call?


    He carefully picked the phone up between two fingers, careful not to press any of the buttons on the side, and flipped the phone open. The little screen on the inside said ¡°AMY¡± and Albert figured that meant it was a phone call. He wasn¡¯t completely clueless when it came to phones, he¡¯d just never used something so outdated before.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Albert asked, hesitantly, after pressing the green answer button on the key pad.


    ¡°Took you long enough.¡± Amy¡¯s distorted and disgruntled voice answered back over the line. ¡°Have you got a minute?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡±¡ªAlbert had to actually check his bedside clock to see what time it was¡ª¡±ten pm¡­ but sure.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t like you weren¡¯t awake. I bet you¡¯ve been freaking out this whole time.¡±


    It was true, but Albert didn¡¯t want to admit it. So he let his frustration out in different words. ¡°What do you want, Amy?¡±


    ¡°Careful how you proceed today, Albert, I¡¯m not acting on my own orders right now. Boss lady has made some demands.¡±


    ¡°Great. What does Hope want?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s going to hear about that tone.¡± Amy cackled on the other end of the line as she spoke, amused that for once it wouldn¡¯t be her head on the chopping block. ¡°But she¡¯s asked me to do some dirty work for her. Since you¡¯ll be starting assignment tomorrow, she wants you to meet Graham before you actually get out in the field together.¡±


    ¡°Right, Graham.¡± The so called old hat collector that Albert was supposed to be working with instead of Amy. He wasn¡¯t thrilled, but there wasn¡¯t another way around it. ¡°How long do you think that¡¯ll take?¡±


    ¡°Not long. Graham doesn¡¯t like to mince words.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Where should I meet you?¡±


    ¡°Just pop by the office with your quill. Bring anything else you think you might want to have on you just in case. Oh, and don¡¯t forget your keys. Common mistake for first timers that can¡¯t pop back directly into their residence.¡±


    ¡°Right, thanks. I hadn¡¯t thought about that.¡± Albert was nodding to the phone as he spoke, which he quickly realized was silly.


    There was a pause where Albert wasn¡¯t sure what to do next. Did Amy have more to tell him? Should he say goodbye? Just hang up?


    ¡°Well, get on it!¡± Amy growled through the phone. Before Albert could apologize or say a farewell or hang up himself, she had ended the call.


    ¡°Okay then. Bye.¡± Albert muttered to himself.


    With a shrug of resignation, Albert leaned down to scoop up his backpack and begin stuffing it with everything he¡¯d just laid out on the bed. Even the paperwork. There was no way he was going to leave anything out or around the apartment for his mother to find¡ªeither accidentally or after some snooping. It was a bit bulky, but it wasn¡¯t like his backpack wasn¡¯t bulky on a normal day anyways.


    ¡°Alright, just¡­ just a light prick.¡± Albert muttered to himself as he carefully held the nib of the quill up to his shoulder. ¡°I should have asked to keep the lack of sensation I had when I was half dead.¡±


    When Albert finally gave in and let the sharp metal point poke into his shoulder, there was a quick and jarring transition to the back alley of the Death¡¯s office. It was right where he¡¯d set it earlier in the day. He hadn¡¯t been thinking about it too hard either, so it was nice to know it wasn¡¯t too focus intensive. But there was noting waiting for him in the back alley, nothing he could see at least. IT was dark, after all, and the back alleyway wasn¡¯t lit.


    Nervously, Albert made his way around to the front of the building. There wasn¡¯t much more light out front either, but Albert could make out two figures leaning against the wall near the door.


    ¡°He¡¯s slow.¡± A man¡¯s voice grumbled as soon as Albert was visible. One figure, which Albert assumed was Graham, tipped forward and propped himself out of his relaxed waiting position.


    ¡°He¡¯s a fast learner.¡± Amy¡¯s voice corrected the man. ¡°And he¡¯s good luck.¡±


    ¡°Ah, another lucky one.¡± Graham muttered. ¡°No guarantee the luck will rub off on the people around him.¡±


    ¡°You say that like luck is a normal attribute for property owners.¡± Amy chuckled. ¡°But you¡¯re right. It mostly only helps him.¡±


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    Albert had walked closer, slowly and cautiously just in case this was some kind of long con trap. He felt like he could trust Amy, but there was really no telling what was going on if she was under Hope¡¯s direct orders. It made her just as dangerous to him as she was to anyone else. And then there was Graham, who Albert knew nothing about.


    Graham was, if this was actually him, a tall and lean man who looked like he could have been anywhere from thirty to forty years old. His face was obscured by grizzled tufts of strawberry blonde facial hair that hung off a stern jawline. His actual hair followed suit, though it was much longer than Albert had expected, reaching down to his shoulders. He looked like the kind of man that you might see on the side of the road with a sign asking for money and that anything would help. And that may well have been his day job. But the closer that Albert crept, the less grubby Graham looked. He was arranged almost perfectly to appear innocuous from a distance or if you couldn¡¯t see him very well. But the faint light trickling out of the barred windows of the office building showed Albert enough.


    The shoulder length hair that looked like it might have been unkempt was actually arranged and tied back so that it wouldn¡¯t be able to get in front of his face. His beard was combed and pinned in an odd looking tight roll beneath his chin. And his clothes, though they looked rather old and ragged, were sewn and patched expertly and seemed like they were tailored to his size exactly.


    ¡°Well, are you going to gawk at me all night or are you going to speak up boy?¡±


    ¡°I assume you¡¯re Graham.¡± Albert held out his hand in introduction. ¡°Albert.¡±


    ¡°First name basis, oh?¡± Graham raised an eyebrow as he took Albert¡¯s hand.


    The handshake was clearly meant to intimidate Albert. His skin was rough and calloused, though Albert could see that his nails were well kept and there weren¡¯t any cuts or scrapes to be seen. Maybe it was some aspect of being a collector, but Graham actually seemed well put together up close.


    ¡°Graham Mcilhenny. But first names are just fine. Titles and mononyms are all pomp, might as well do away with sir names too while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    His last name made sense of the faint hint of a fading accent in Graham¡¯s voice. Albert had been prepared to dismiss it entirely, but it did sound vaguely English. Wherever the accent came from, it felt like Graham hadn¡¯t been there in a long time.


    ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± Albert said with a nod as he ended the handshake.


    ¡°Psh, nice to meet you, he says.¡± Graham snorted and turned to Amy. ¡°Why has that greasy bald git got me working with a kid that¡¯s as green as a hillside?¡±


    ¡°You should know better than to ask that.¡± Amy chided. ¡°He probably wants you to kill him.¡±


    ¡°And just for that I never will.¡± Graham growled. ¡°So, you¡¯re in luck, kid.¡±


    ¡°So, if you aren¡¯t going to kill me, what is it that you actually do?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re collectors, Albert.¡± Graham answered with a low and shallow voice. ¡°We collect debts. But when we work with arbitrators directly, we¡¯re more like bodyguards.¡±


    ¡°So, people actually make deals with Death while they¡¯re still alive?¡±


    ¡°A sad state to be in, but it happens.¡±Graham nodded. ¡°Normally I collect for Death personally. But the last few decades he¡¯s been on a work binge and does all the work himself from contract to collection. Kind of makes us feel a little redundant, but he¡¯s as immortal as we are. Not much difference who does what, really.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re just going to tag along and be my bodyguard?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hardly say tag along, but it¡¯ll be my job to stop you from getting shot or stabbed or mauled or poisoned¡­ lots of ways to die unexpectedly. And none of them will do it to me. Plenty will do it to you.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ do what?¡± Albert was confused, and there was a near simultaneous facepalm from both Amy and Graham at his question.


    ¡°In. Do you in.¡± Amy rolled her eyes as she said it. ¡°It¡¯s next to impossible to kill collectors. So, let Graham walk in front of you. Okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not quite wide as some bodyguards, but you should do just fine standing behind me.¡± Graham said in agreement. ¡°But you¡¯ll be in charge, more or less. I won¡¯t just stand idly by if you get in a panic and can¡¯t decide what we should do, but I¡¯ll try and keep you safe.¡±


    ¡°I feel safer already.¡± Albert said it with a mildly sarcastic tone, but he did feel safer having talked to Graham. He seemed very similar to Amy, though perhaps less invested in Albert¡¯s own personal success and survival.


    ¡°Good, but don¡¯t go feeling too safe.¡± Graham poked Albert in the chest as he said it, the single finger providing more than enough force to make Albert have to steady himself.


    ¡°What times are good to stop by and see you, by the way.¡± Albert had almost forgotten that his quill would have a default that could take him to Graham. ¡°I was advised not to drop in on you unannounced, but if I need to I¡¯d rather do it while you¡¯re in a good mood.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± Graham paused and stroked his chin in thought. ¡°First time I¡¯ve ever been asked, honestly. If I¡¯m not working, I won¡¯t be doing much. And I don¡¯t have much to keep personal. So, if your desperate and can¡¯t text me ahead of time, just do it whenever. But if you can text me or call me first, do that.¡±


    Albert hadn¡¯t even looked through his phone¡¯s contacts, so he had no idea if Graham¡¯s phone number was on there. It made sense that if Amy¡¯s number was in the phone, that Graham¡¯s would be as well. And if not, he had a feeling he could just ask Amy.


    ¡°Well, it was good to talk to you first.¡± Albert said with a nod.


    He tried to make eye contact with Graham before making his exit, but the man¡¯s eyes were wild and honestly terrifying to look at. Something about the deep green in them made it feel like looking too long would feel like jumping off a cliff into the ocean.


    ¡°It¡¯s a courtesy I¡¯m not often extended.¡± Graham said, keeping his eyes steady on Albert. He was fully aware that the boy before him couldn¡¯t look him in the eye. ¡°So thank you, Albert.¡±


    Graham gave one more nod before taking his own quill from his pants pocket¡ª at least that¡¯s what Albert assumed he was reaching for, as he didn¡¯t actually remove his hand while Albert could see him¡ªand vanishing. Albert was about to do the same, though far less dramatically, but Amy held up her hand to stop him.


    ¡°Two things, before you go.¡± Amy had picked her own backpack up off the ground where she had been reclined. ¡°First, I¡¯ve been told to give you these.¡±


    The glasses case was extended to Albert, the same one she¡¯d lent him before. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to him that he hadn¡¯t been given a means to see spirits after signing his contract. But having these would be familiar and effective as anything else he could have been given. Unless there was a way that Death could grant him the ability to see spirits innately, since Death himself seemed to be able to do that.


    ¡°And second, the boss lady would like to see you. She¡¯s waiting in her office.¡±


    ¡°Oh, great.¡± Albert groaned as he accepted the glasses. ¡°I mean, genuinely, thank you for these. But what in the world is it that she wants now?¡±


    ¡°Anyone¡¯s guess, Albert. Just don¡¯t piss her off.¡±


    ¡°With my luck that¡¯s exactly what she wants me to do.¡±


    ¡°With your luck, it might not matter.¡± Amy said with a chuckle. ¡°But, good luck all the same.¡±


    ¡°Something tells me I¡¯ll need the extra bit.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Three: A Failure of Wooing

    Several things were different about the interior of the office in its after hours state. Or, at least, Albert considered it after hours since it was so late. But it was highly likely that there was no true point where Death and his employees were carrying out some kind of business. But the light in Death¡¯s office was out, Millie and the other desk workers out in the front were gone, and the only noise Albert could hear in the building was coming from Hope¡¯s office. The door was cracked open, a small amount of light poured out into the mostly darkened front room of the building. The light was flickering, not like a fluorescent bulb on its last legs but a candlelit chandelier. And the sound, the sound was what scared Albert most. Not because it was ominous or foreboding, at least not in the traditional way, but because it was otherwise very mundane and even pleasant. He could hear the gentle clatter of silverware on plates and a record playing music he didn¡¯t recognize.


    And that was the worst possible position he could have been in. It was going to be a game of sorts. A game of frustrations, manipulation, and pleasant facade. With that in mind, the sight beyond Hope¡¯s office door was much more tolerable. Because it had been nearly exactly what Albert had predicted.


    He had knocked first, of course, but the door was already cracked and the slight force of the knock opened it a couple of inches. The rest was done as Hope peeled the obscuring oak panel away from view and revealed her office. Transformed as it was, it hardly looked the same as the last time Albert had been there. If he didn¡¯t know better¡ªand the only reason that he did was that the proportions of the room itself had gone unchanged¡ªhe might have said that she had taken the old office room off like a trailer and hooked a new one on to the body of the building.


    In the center of the room, where Hope¡¯s desk had once stood, was a more old fashioned wooden dining table. The smooth dark wooden surface contrasted against a gold and cream colored runner than hung off the two shorter ends. And at both of those ends, sitting on the runner, were two plates of food. Both piled with the most stereotypically lavish food Albert had ever seen. It looked like lamb chops with some kind of smashed or mashed potato, gravy, something green and vegetal that Albert couldn¡¯t quite place, and all still steaming hot. To the side was a small plate of salad, simple but elegantly plated; Albert could tell there was skill involved, this looked like how his mother plated expensive entrees. There was an empty champagne glass at east seat as well, likely out of courtesy to Albert¡¯s choice.


    And that was just the table. The rest of the room had been shifted around as well. Gone were the bookshelves and filing cabinets, the glamorous nick knacks and art nouveau paintings of trees and lilies embossed with gold. In their places were dark wood tones, crimson fabric drapes, gold trimmed vases filled with cotton stalks, and an elaborate faded Turkish rug. It hadn¡¯t stood out before, just how lavishly Hope had decorated her office before, but now that she had created a completely different and nearly equally lavish¡ªthough admittedly more homey¡ªspace it was incredibly obvious what Hope preferred to surround herself with.


    ¡°Please, come sit.¡± Hope said with a huge grin and a slight bow, like she was a doorman at a ritzy restaurant. ¡°I would have made a full course and started you on an appetizer, but I know it¡¯s late and thought you might have already eaten.¡±


    The room seemed vacuous with just the two of them inside, and with all of the cloth on the walls Albert barely heard any ambient noise from beyond the confines of the room. And as soon as he walked all the way and in and Hope shut the door behind him, it was like he had stepped into the void. If the void were a well-furnished private room at a five star restaurant.


    And apart from the room, Hope herself looked like she had put some extra effort into her appearance. She¡¯d done her hair into waves of tight and neat little curls that dangled around her shoulders. Her face looked as though she hadn¡¯t put on any makeup at all, though it was clear that she had. Her nails had been done in a fresh coat, now sporting black with gold speckles that matched nicely with the outfit she was wearing. It was an odd look, Albert wasn¡¯t very used to seeing younger women in designer pants suits, but the black with crimson trip and gold shirt underneath did actually look quite elegant in a business-y sort of way.


    ¡°I did eat, actually. I¡¯m not very hungry.¡± Albert mumbled in his overwhelmed state.


    ¡°Humor me?¡± Hope kept up the smile as she gestured to the seat closest to the door. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t force you to do anything, but I would appreciate some courtesy for the trouble I¡¯ve gone through to prepare this.


    As there was clearly no other choice, Albert processed a deep breath and sat down in the indicated chair. Up close, he could smell the food; and it smelled divine. But Albert wasn¡¯t going to let Hope know that. In fact, he wasn¡¯t planning on telling her anything she wanted to hear.


    ¡°What five star French chef did you pay off to make this?¡± Albert said, subtle sneer in his voice¡ªthough he wasn¡¯t bold enough to make it too obvious. ¡°And how much did it cost?¡±


    ¡°Normally I would take offense to that statement.¡± Hope said with a small but arrogant huff. ¡°But tonight, I am quite happy to say that I did this myself. Though mostly I¡¯m happy my cooking skills haven¡¯t degraded in the last fifty years.¡±


    Too many things about that statement were clear morsels of bait hanging off the end of Hope¡¯s conversational fishing line. He didn¡¯t necessarily believe her¡ª how could she have had the time to make it, do herself up all nice, and have it still be hot when he got there?¡ªbut Albert could tell she wanted to answer as many questions about herself as she could, and she was giving him ample opportunity to do so. It was how a lot of girls at school talked. They¡¯d bring up something they were interested in or had done that sounded outlandish so that you would ask them incredulously or with awe. And then they¡¯d tell you all about it. Albert had heard it play out so many times. ¡®So I was at the gym last night, lifting weights, had twice my body weight on the bar¡­¡¯ ¡®oh, what? There¡¯s no way you can lift that.¡¯ ¡®well I¡¯ve been working up to that weight since I was twelve, my dad¡¯s a personal trainer¡­¡¯ And it always worked on the right kind of person. The right kind of person being the hopeless guys that thought if they showed interest in everything a girl did that the girl would reciprocate. And sometimes they did¡­ but no two people have everything in common; and if a couple says they do, one of them is lying.


    To this end, Albert selected not to take the bait. It was what Hope wanted after all. Instead, he did the exact opposite. He ignored the bait and talked about himself.


    ¡°You know I cook too. Not much, but I¡¯ve picked up a few things from some very talented chefs.¡± All true, though the talented chefs in question were almost exclusively his own mother. ¡°You know, the kind that study in France under masters for a few years before trying their own hand at a restaurant.¡±


    ¡°You know, I did the same thing¡­ though, of course, that was almost a century ago.¡± Hope began to pick away daintily at her food as she spoke.


    The second helping of bait didn¡¯t elude Albert¡¯s notice either. He had given in and begun to nibble on the food, and though it was divine, he resisted the urge to say as much.


    ¡°But, you know, I think the hardest part is always the sauce. Like this gravy, it¡¯s just a little too salty.¡± Albert knew that was one of the ultimate insults you could hurl at a chef, and he could see Hope flinch as he said it. But he still wasn¡¯t lying. It was pedantic and minor, but that only made it more biting.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right.¡± Hope nodded slowly as she agreed. She had slowed her eating down even more and was giving Albert a penetrating look that he was trying very hard to ignore. ¡°And it looks like we have nothing to cleanse the pallet with. Would you care for a drink?¡±


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    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to some water.¡± Albert said, holding out the champagne glass.


    It was another intentional subversion of manners. Drinking water from a champagne glass meant that you couldn¡¯t toast, because it was bad form to toast with water, and it was a further insult to the chef if the meal was meant to be paired with a specific drink. The drink was usually wine. Albert had spent far too many nights at the restaurant with his mother in the time before she had decided he was old enough to be left home alone in the evenings. And in all that time, he had absorbed a tremendous amount from the staff there. But most importantly, he had learned how to get on the kitchen staff¡¯s good side, and what not to do at the table to stay there. If Hope really was responsible for the meal, and was well trained by a master chef, she would be mad enough to kill him. But the trick was, she couldn¡¯t assume that Albert knew any of these rules and so it would be unjust to punish him for his faux pas.


    It was clear that Hope wanted something from Albert. She was putting in a lot of effort, if she was being honest at least, to offer Albert an incredibly expensive experience. It was incredibly uncomfortable as well; it would be bad enough if a normal employer trapped their employee in a sort of unwelcome impromptu dinner date, but Hope was a supernatural taskmaster with the power and influence to have him killed at the snap of a finger.


    And yet, Albert couldn¡¯t help but fight against her. It was an incredibly passive offensive tactic, but it seemed to be doing the trick. Albert got the impression that as long as he was telling the truth, being as brutally honest as he had been the first time he met her, she wouldn¡¯t lay a finger on him.


    ¡°Silly me, I forgot you were still young enough that wine wouldn¡¯t appeal to you.¡± Hope muttered, loudly and clearly enough that it may as well have been her normal voice. ¡°The meal was meant to be had with a very specific bottle I¡¯ve been saving. But if you¡¯re more comfortable with water, who am I to stop you.¡±


    Hope reached under the table and lifted up a small brass bell. It rang out like it was meant to be used in a concert ensemble, it¡¯s tone loud and piercing.


    ¡°She should have had just enough time to¡ªyes, there she is.¡±


    With the bell, Hope had gestured to the door Albert had come through. But now it was opened from the outside. Amy walked in, slowly, carefully, and uncomfortably. Her discomfort, Albert guessed, came from the cocktail dress she was wearing. Somehow, it was both the flashy kind of outfit you could see being worn to a high profile event, and also formal enough that it was clear she was dressed to be a server. It was also the most revealing thing that Albert had seen Amy wear. Before that moment, he¡¯d never actually seen any skin that wasn¡¯t on her face or hands. But now, with the short skirt of the cocktail dress, he saw far more than he ever wanted to. It was more than a little shocking, and only partly because of the revealing nature of the attire. Almost all of Amy¡¯s body was covered in faint or faded scar tissue, and each scar looked nearly unique.


    ¡°Amy, darling, would you be a dear and serve some drinks? I¡¯d like some of the white, from the bottle with the gray label. Albert will be drinking water.¡± Hope ordered her collector around as casually as if she really were part of the wait staff of a restaurant.


    Without any sign of restraint, Amy made her way over to a small serving car located in the corner of the room and returned with the champagne bottle and a small pitcher of ice water. She served Amy first, and when she made her way over to Albert he could see something that looked like an amused grin being stifled on her face. Something told Albert that she knew as well as he did how bad a decision it was to drink water at a time like that. Apart from her stifled grin, Amy didn¡¯t say a word; though it probably wasn¡¯t because she didn¡¯t want to.


    ¡°Thank you, Amy. That will be all.¡±


    Amy gave a clumsy curtsy and made her exit. Before she¡¯d closed the door behind her all the way, Albert heard the intentional ripping of fabric that signaled the destruction of the dress.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d like to share with me why we¡¯re here, Hope?¡± Albert finally asked. ¡°I¡¯ve tasted the food and we¡¯ve shared a drink¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Hope interrupted casually.


    ¡°Fair enough. But we¡¯ve had something to drink. Now I¡¯m wondering why you pushed me into sitting through this really inappropriate and disturbing charade.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing much, is it?¡± Hope waved the question off. ¡°I think your exaggerating.¡±


    ¡°Exaggerating which part?¡± Albert asked as he rested his chin on his fist. ¡°The part about it being a charade or the part abut it being inappropriate?¡±


    ¡°All of it.¡± Hope scoffed. ¡°Can¡¯t a girl treat her employee to a nice meal to commemorate the beginning of a long and lucrative career?¡±


    ¡°Well first off, I work for your dad¡ª¡± Albert began, being careful to keep his voice calm and collected.


    ¡°Technically, I¡¯m his business partner.¡±


    ¡°¡ªand secondly, this is extremely inappropriate. You¡¯re way older than me, you¡¯re technically my boss, and you have so much control over my life, how am I supposed to say no to any of this. You could probably pressure me into killing someone if you wanted to.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right about something, there is a pretty sharp power imbalance.¡± Hope murmured. ¡°But if you call me old again I have you flayed alive.¡±


    While the threat was genuine, Albert could tell, it still made him smile. He¡¯d won. She broke first. He¡¯d been very close, but he hadn¡¯t been overtly rude. He¡¯d made mistakes on purpose, and he¡¯d been blunt, but he hadn¡¯t be rude. Not really.


    ¡°I think you know that I¡¯ve been perfectly honest with you since I sat down.¡± Albert began again. He felt mildly more in control of the situation now. ¡°But you¡¯ve lied to me. I now there¡¯s another reason why you did all this, but I can¡¯t figure it out.¡±


    ¡°Well, you needed to meet Graham.¡± Hope began, but trailed off.


    ¡°Yes, that was a good idea, and one that Amy might have had on her own. Or Graham; he seems pretty care free, but he seems smart too.¡±


    ¡°I figured if you were already over here, maybe we could spend some time together, geez, are you happy?¡± Hope blurted out. ¡°I wanted to get a better feel for you and see what you were like socially.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh¡­¡± Albert hummed. It still felt liker there was more to it, but he wasn¡¯t going to dig much deeper.


    ¡°I was making something nice anyways, too, so I thought I¡¯d make it a nice dinner meeting.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ does make some sense.¡± Albert let himself agree with Hope for just the smallest thing, but he made sure to cover up the statement with something else too. ¡°But I¡¯m curious about one thing. What made you think that I would be a fit for this kind of social interaction?¡±


    Albert stood next to the table and gestured to himself. He hadn¡¯t taken much care to keep himself tidy since he¡¯d gotten back home. He was still just wearing jeans and a tee shirt, his shoes were tattered and clearly about to break down in a number of locations, his hair could have used a cut the month prior though the lack of styling he did with it meant it wouldn¡¯t have changed much, and overall he looked like he belonged at the table of a local malls food court. There couldn¡¯t have been anyone more discordant to sit where he had been sitting and eating what he had been eating.


    ¡°Well, now that¡¯s misleading.¡± Hope huffed. ¡°Clearly you know how to handle yourself at the table. And the clothes and all that¡ªthat¡¯s just superficial. If you had the wardrobe and the product, I could have you looking like a million bucks in an hour.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t agree¡­¡± Albert didn¡¯t want to think about what it would be like to have Hope in charge of the way he looked. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it matters. I don¡¯t have the wardrobe and I don¡¯t have¡­ the product, whatever that means. And that¡¯s part of who I am. I¡¯m not the kind of person that dresses up like that or gets my hair done in a salon.¡±


    ¡°But you know your manners. You could be¡ª¡± Albert cut Hope off mid argument.


    ¡°And I¡¯m not the type of guy that¡¯s gonna pretend to be something I¡¯m not. Because I only know my manners from spending time on the other side of the kitchen door.¡±


    There was a moment of pause as Albert let out a deep breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding in. Things had gotten much more defensive than he¡¯d expected, and his heart rate had shot up. He very nearly had gone on a rant and lost control of what he was trying to do¡ªleave. But he¡¯d made something akin to an exit with his uncomfortable rebuttal.


    ¡°Thank you for this, though I would rather you never do this again.¡± Albert offered a slight bow as he leaned down to retrieve his backpack. ¡°It was quite nice. But I¡¯m going to go back home and sleep.¡±


    Albert fished the quill out from his pocket as he spoke, and he didn¡¯t want to bother making an obvious gesture with it by bringing it to his shoulder. Instead he gently held the tip between two fingers and pushed them up against his thigh so there would only be minimal contact. But it was enough. Albert felt the world around him shift and he was back in his alleyway. He¡¯d heard the beginnings of something Hope was saying as he left, but all he¡¯d made out was, ¡®you¡¯re welcome¡¯ which seemed oddly out of place for Hope.


    But it was too late to worry about what she¡¯d been saying. He could deal with that problem after some sleep. He still had a short walk before he made it back home, and it was dark and cold out.

 Chapter Twenty-Four: Omens

    Albert had had a strange feeling on his way back home that night. The feeling that he¡¯d been watched or followed. But there hadn¡¯t been anything around. It might have been his imagination mingling with his paranoia, but he could have sworn he heard something walking behind him the whole way. And though it wasn¡¯t a particularly long walk back, it felt like an eternity of looking over his shoulder. And once he was back inside, he didn¡¯t feel much safer. There was a scratching at the windows of every room his moved to. It kept him awake until late into the night, and at that point he didn¡¯t dare look outside. If it had gone from the outside of the front door to the window that fast, there was no way it was natural.


    Whatever was following Albert was¡ªhe was sure¡ªsupernatural.


    Around midnight, something changed. Albert hadn¡¯t slept a wink, though he¡¯d prepared to sleep as he did every other night; after all, why would he bother waiting for it to go away if it wasn¡¯t human? But when his mother opened the front door, and he knew it was her from the familiar sound of her keys clanking on the counter and her shoes clattering on the floor by the door, the scratching stopped.


    At first Albert was totally relieved. But then it occurred to him that whatever it was, it might have come in alongside his mother. But there weren¡¯t any other strange sounds. Just the noise of his mother decompressing briefly and then getting ready to sleep until late into the next morning. No more scratching at the windows, no more patter of quiet feet in the apartment, nothing clawing at his door, no ominous breathing in the corner of the room. Just silence within the confines of the apartment walls and the ambient noise of the city outside of them.


    Albert didn¡¯t trust that silence for a second.


    Even though he hadn¡¯t found a decent hiding place for his arbitration implements, Albert had tucked his backpack between the side of the bed he slept on and the wall. If there was going to be any chance of keeping his belongings discrete, he would have to keep them on his person at all times. And that made it simple enough to retrieve the cell phone and send a text to Amy.


    Ghosts are real, right?


    What¡¯s wrong? Came her quick reply.


    I think I¡¯m being haunted. Something followed me from my landing spot to the apartment and then started scratching at the windows. It felt like it took ages to text with the basic numbered keypad, but Albert wasn¡¯t going to get any sleep until he figured things out anyway.


    Okay, what does it look like? It was only text on a screen, but Albert could hear Amy¡¯s sarcastic and mildly annoyed disposition. Almost as if being haunted was no big deal. And it might not have been. For her.


    I couldn¡¯t see it. That¡¯s why I¡¯m freaking out.


    You couldn¡¯t see it with the glasses on?


    Albert smacked himself on the forehead with the butt of his palm. He had, clearly, learned nothing from his experience gathering souls for his initial contract. He¡¯d had the glasses in his backpack the whole way home and it hadn¡¯t occurred to him to put them on to see if a spirit was actually following him. But was it too late now? There was no indication that whatever it was that had followed him home was still around. No audible indication at least.


    And if you didn¡¯t see it, how do you know something was following you? Amy sent another text before Albert could finish what he had started typing.


    I could hear it. He responded quickly, before digging the glasses case out of the backpack as well.


    Albert wasn¡¯t looking at the phone when it hummed quietly again with Amy¡¯s reply. But when he looked again, now with glasses on, he saw her reply very clearly.


    Most likely a spirit. Need help?


    Albert didn¡¯t want to have to explain to his mother why Amy was there if she came over and was discovered. No. But I¡¯ll let you know.


    An initial sweep of the room yielded no results. Everything was exactly as it had appeared without the glasses, minus the slight tint in color. But the color shift was to be expected. But if the room was clear, that meant Albert would have to check the rest of the apartment¡­ or maybe the window.


    Looking outside had been something he was dreading since the scratching stopped. It was a common source of horror in scary stories. When the creepy noise stopped and a character went looking for the source, it never ended well. And scratching at the window, another horror trope, it seemed to always get worse if someone actually looked out. But Albert remembered what Amy had said when she¡¯d first let him look through the glasses. A half-dead creature, human or otherwise couldn¡¯t hurt him. They might be annoying, but they shouldn¡¯t be able to hurt him.


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    It was with that reassurance circulating through his mind that Albert peeked through the blinds covering his bedroom window. The alleyway between his apartment building and the one next door was lit with a green-yellow tint to it, and it was clear enough to see things from the street level up to his own window. Not that he needed the assistance. The thing waiting outside his window was clearly visible. It was a cat.


    It looked oddly familiar, though most stray cats tended to do that. And it wasn¡¯t just a normal stray cat, it was radiating a faint yellowish-green aura that seemed to color its otherwise dark fur. Albert remembered seeing a cat the first time he¡¯d put on the glasses. It had been a ways off, and he hadn¡¯t gotten a great look at it. But it was possible this was the same cat. Amy had said that some animals lingered for days before they dissipated. And if it had died close to when Albert had seen it last, it might have been the same cat. But there was no being sure.


    The cat noticed the opening in the blinds and leaned down to look Albert in the eye. It was an awkward staring match, with the cat¡¯s unblinking gaze proving to be the victor. It didn¡¯t seem hostile, or intent to continue scratching, it just watched and waited. Albert didn¡¯t see the point in trying to conceal his actions or the harm in lifting the blinds properly, so he did. Quietly, so as not to wake his mother, Albert pulled the string to raise the blinds and get a better look at the half-dead cat sitting on his window sill.


    It had some kind of patterned fur, though Albert couldn¡¯t discern the natural colors of it due to the tint of the glasses and the glowing aura that seemed to be filtering through the fur itself. With it no longer leaning down to keep eye contact with Albert, he could see it had a color on as well. The collar itself was a plain black ribbon with a little tag and a bell. Albert hadn¡¯t heard the bell at all while he was being followed, but he suspected there was an explanation for that. The tag was what interested him more.


    There wasn¡¯t any owner information of the little metal disc strung on to the ribbon. But there was a name and a little etching that Albert couldn¡¯t make out clearly through the glass and the color tint. But the name was legible. It read, quite simply, k?l??k.


    Albert went back to his phone, keeping a lookout in his peripheral vision to see if the cat moved, and texted Amy again.


    How many languages do you speak?


    Oh, is it talking now?


    No. It¡¯s a cat. Albert texted back, mildly frustrated.


    Odd question, then. But a few. Why?


    It has a collar and a name. And I don¡¯t think the name is in English.


    Okay, hit me with it. What¡¯s the name?


    Kilcik


    Is there a little tail bit under the c? Amy¡¯s response came after a long pause in communication. Albert stared at the cat the whole time, just to make sure it didn¡¯t phase through the window or do anything else concerning. But it stayed put.


    Yeah, the c has a little thing in the middle on the bottom.


    Okay. That¡¯s Turkish. I think. And if I remember right, it means bones. But like, thin fish bones.


    Amy text again in quick succession. Actually, that¡¯s kind of cute. They named the cat fish bone. Anything else on the tag?


    Albert crept close to the window again and let his face press up close to the glass to get a better look at the other element on the tag. It was hard to make out, because the cat moved close to the glass as he did, but he could make out a round shape with thin lines poking out of it.


    There¡¯s some kind of etching, but I cant really make out what it is. Maybe a little ball of yarn? It¡¯s like a circle with spikes.


    I¡¯m not great with Turkish, so this might be a bit of a stretch, but could it be pincushion? Kilcik, that kind of bone, it¡¯s the kind of bones you make needles and pins out of.


    Amy¡¯s lengthy reply, after the pause it had taken her to write it, left Albert a little stumped. He couldn¡¯t get a better view at the tag no matter how he tried to twist his head around. The cat just moved along and mimicked his movements, keeping the tag frustratingly out of sight. After a while Albert leaned back, as did the cat, and Albert tried to make it out from a distance. It could have been a pincushion, but it didn¡¯t really make much sense.


    ¡°Pincushion¡­¡± Albert mumbled, barely audible in the confines of his own room, but when he said it the cat perked up.


    ¡°Is that your name? Pincushion?¡± Albert couldn¡¯t believe he was trying to talk to a cat, but Amy had said that sometimes animals grew smarted after they died. And he wasn¡¯t sure how smart cats were to begin with. It wasn¡¯t impossible that it understood him.


    The cat didn¡¯t nod. If it had, Albert might have shut the blinds right then and there before texting Amy to come and get rid of the half-dead cat¡¯s spirit. But it did seem to perk up at the word. Its long dark tail twitched in a pleasant excitement and Albert could hear it begin to purr. It was an odd and ethereal sort of purring, not a physical force of vibration in the air like normal noise but some kind of spiritual hum reverberating off the glass as it rubbed its whiskered cheek along it.


    I think its name is Pincushion. Albert texted nervously.


    How so?


    It heard me say it and I think it¡¯s happy.


    Oh dear.


    Oh dear?


    I think it might like you.


    And that¡¯s bad?


    Cats are unpredictable. And they¡¯re not exactly stupid animals after they die. Is it inside your apartment?


    No, it¡¯s outside my window. It¡¯s not coming inside for some reason.


    You might be fine, but let me know if it lingers around you.


    Okay.


    Goodnight, Albert. Get some sleep. Tomorrow isn¡¯t going to be easy for you.


    Thanks.


    Pincushion continued to watch Albert as he carefully lowered the blinds. He didn¡¯t hear any more purring after that, but he could tell it was still there. It was waiting. And it was probably going to wait all night. Albert had a feeling. Not exactly a bad one. But an ominous feeling. Like there was something Amy wasn¡¯t telling him. And worse, that Pincushion wasn¡¯t just another remnant of roadkill

 Chapter Twenty-Five: After-School Activities

    Everything seems to be different as Albert woke up the next morning. The world looked odd. The sunlight filtering in through the blinds wasn¡¯t the right color and Albert immediately felt like he was being watched. Both of these problems were the result of Albert falling asleep with the glasses on. The magical¡ªthough no one had ever used the word magic to describe them, so that was conjecture for Albert¡ªglass lens tinted the sunlight green in an eerie way that he hadn¡¯t noticed before, and beyond the obscured window Albert could just barely make out the gleam of a spectral feline eye.


    After correcting a new slight bend in one of the arms of the glasses, Albert did his best to proceed through his morning as normal. Though, with each room Albert entered, he could feel the eyes of Pincushion following him. The only room he was safe in was the bathroom, which didn¡¯t have a window. He was still hesitant to go there, however, as it would mean he would either have to endure an awkward conversation with his mother about why he was bringing his backpack into the bathroom or leave the backpack behind and risk his mother looking through it. Normally the latter situation wouldn¡¯t be an issue, his mother had a good track record of respecting his privacy, but she was worried now and for good reason. Albert just couldn¡¯t let her know that.


    For good measure, though, Albert tucked his backpack into a corner at the foot of his bead and draped a blanket partially over it. It wasn¡¯t exactly hidden, but it blended in extremely well and naturally. And when he returned, after an incredibly quick shower and wash up, Albert returned to find it exactly as he had left it. Which was a pleasant surprise. It didn¡¯t fully alleviate his anxiety about his mother snooping through his things, but it did calm him down to know that just this once he¡¯d been able to avoid discovery.


    His mother actually seemed to be behaving normally. She had made herself a simple breakfast and was idly tidying the apartment while she watched tv in the background. She didn¡¯t seem particularly chatty, but she rarely was in the mornings. And that was fine. Albert knew that most mornings, on school days at least, if she had gotten up early it was just to remind Albert that she was there. He had a strong feeling she fell asleep on the couch as soon as he left for school.


    So, with barely a goodbye, Albert made his way out of the apartment. He was very tempted to skip a bit of walking by using his quill to get to the alleyway, but the short amount of time it would save wasn¡¯t worth the pain. He massaged his shoulder as he thought about it. It still stung from the night before, almost exactly like the kind pain you get from a hypodermic needle that a vaccine comes in. Having a backpack strapped over his should made it a little worse too, so Albert spent the entire walk to school hoping that Amy would show up randomly and offer to drive him the rest of the way.


    And the pain wasn¡¯t the only thing bothering him. He could hear Pincushion trotting along behind him the whole way. It was less ominous now that he knew what the sound was, but it was still unsettling. The occasional mew or skitter of claws on concrete startled Albert every time. It was one more thing that he wished Amy would show up and fix for him. But she never appeared.


    In fact, Albert was almost afraid she¡¯d abandoned him all together. She was probably still in the area, but there was no reason for her to be attending his school anymore. Maybe to save face and help him with a cover story, but that seemed even more unlikely. But every class, she was sitting there quietly minding her own business like she was more of an auditor than a student. The only time she¡¯d looked his direction was during the first class of the day, when he¡¯d sat down in his desk. She had glanced over at him, then at his feet¡ªwhere Pincushion undoubtedly was¡ªand then back to her own notebook. It wasn¡¯t until third period, when Albert was scheduled to be at his internship, that she acknowledged him. And even then it was only a brief statement as she passed in him the hall.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, you have work to do. Better head over there.¡±


    Albert had almost taken the quill out in the hallways and left on the spot, but the second he had to scramble through his backpack he thought better of it. Someone would probably notice him vanish into thin air. It hadn¡¯t occurred to him before that disappearing suddenly could be just as hazardous for someone to witness as appearing at a destination. With that in mind, Albert had to find somewhere where no one would see him vanish. He opted for a bathroom stall. He didn¡¯t lock it of course, that would be rude. But no one used the bathrooms at school anyway, not the way they were supposed to be used at least.


    With a fresh pain in his left shoulder, Albert found himself behind the debt collection office. Everything seemed quiet, but then he saw Amy waiting for him, leaning against the back of the building with her arms crossed.


    ¡°You really need to be quicker about that.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just ignore the pain like you, okay? I have to work myself up to it every time.¡± Albert defended himself, but he knew he sounded like he was whining.


    ¡°Whatever, Hope¡¯s practically frantic waiting for you to show up for your first big day.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t like the sound of that. ¡°Frantic? Like excited, or obsessed?¡±


    ¡°You tell me. You¡¯re the one that had dinner with that psycho.¡± Amy snorted. ¡°And I honestly can¡¯t tell how it went based on her behavior. She either really likes you or really hates you, not that there¡¯s much in-between with her to begin with.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure either.¡± Albert said with a frown. ¡°I don¡¯t really want her to like me or hate me. I really would prefer neutral.¡±


    ¡°Sadly, you don¡¯t get a say in the matter.¡±


    Amy pushed herself all the way on to her feet and gestured for Albert to follow her to the front of the building. Graham was waiting in pretty much the same spot he had been in the night before, right next to the front door, and as soon as he saw Albert he gave a him a subtle upwards nod. It wasn¡¯t clear what the nod meant, but it seemed to be some sort of agreement. Albert tried to return the gesture just it case it was called for.


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    ¡°You ready kid?¡± Graham asked casually. He sounded as care free as he had been the night before.


    ¡°Yeah. Well, no. But I will be.¡±


    ¡°Right, well. Boss lady wants us in her office to brief us on our little list of assignments today.¡±


    ¡°Stay strong, old man.¡± Amy scoffed as she exchanged some kind of odd handshake with Graham, bumping the bottom of her fist against the bottom of his like they were stabbing each other.


    Without further conversation, Amy exchanged places with Graham like they were trading a watchmans post at the front of the building. Albert realized that they probably were. It was entirely likely that someone would do something stupid to a debt collection office if there wasn¡¯t some kind of physical deterrent.


    Inside the office, there were the same people behind desks that had been there before. The only one that Albert knew was Millie, but she wasn¡¯t making eye contact as he followed Graham over to Hope¡¯s office. Now that the shock of his presence had faded somewhat, no one seemed to care that he was there at all. Albert was grateful for the lack of staring eyes, but nervous that it might indicate a lack of desire to help him with literally anything.


    Graham knocked once, but then proceeded to open Hope¡¯s office door without any consideration for a reply. Albert was mortified for a moment by the reckless behavior towards Hope, but no one else was reaction. Not even Hope. She just nodded as they stepped into her office and waited for the two to take seats across from her desk.


    The office had been put back together much the same way it had been prior to Hope¡¯s attempts to furnish it for a meal the night before. There were trances that things had moved and hints of the way they had been situated for dinner. But If Albert hadn¡¯t been looking for them he might not have noticed different placement of the paintings on the walls and the rearrangement of several of the expensive looking knickknacks that adorned Hope¡¯s desk.


    ¡°Excited for you first day of work as an honest to goodness arbitrator?¡± Hope¡¯s smile was fake and full of venom; she was just waiting to put him down, Albert could feel it.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s going to suck, but I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Same.¡± Graham grunted.


    ¡°Pleasant. I hope you don¡¯t carry that attitude into any arbitrations or other business dealings while you¡ª¡± Hope stopped mid sentence as her eyes caught hold of something. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s what?¡± Albert looked around the room, but couldn¡¯t see anything out of place. But then he heard the patter of tiny paws land on Hope¡¯s desk and his eyes doubled in size out of fear.


    ¡°Oh¡­ that. Right, well. It¡¯s been following me. Since last night actually. I¡¯m not entirely sure how to get rid¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh my gosh it¡¯s adorable!¡± Hope squealed. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen such an expressive little cat spirit before. And such a strange aura too.¡±


    Hope held out her hands to the invisible cat and after a moment it looked like she was pantomiming petting it. Rather than be left in the dark, Albert fished out the glasses and put them on so he could see what was really happening. And what was really happening was both horrifying and strangely cute to witness.


    Pincushion had trotted across the desk within petting range of Hope, and the woman that Albert never expected to show an ounce of humanity was scritching its chin as casually as if she were petting an actual normal house cat. Albert even heard it purring before he put the glasses on, but with them on he saw the full display of affection clearly. Far more clearly than he really wanted, as the cat¡¯s rear end was aimed squarely in his direction the entire time.


    ¡°And what¡¯s you¡¯re little collar say? K?l??k?¡±


    ¡°It means fish bone. But I¡¯m pretty sure her name is Pincushion.¡± Albert corrected.


    The second he said the cat¡¯s name, she turned back to Albert and sat down as though she had been instructed to sit and she was carrying out orders. Hope looked a little let down that the cat spirit had abandoned her, but she didn¡¯t seem interested in making a big deal out of it.


    ¡°Ah, right. Turkish. Interesting. And it just followed you home? That¡¯s so strange. Well, enjoy it while it lasts, I doubt she¡¯ll be around much longer. Animal spirits don¡¯t tend to linger for more than a day or two at most unless there¡¯s some special circumstance.¡±


    Albert wanted to ask so badly what those special circumstance might have been, but he knew it was a trap. Just like the night before, Hope wasn¡¯t done trying to get him invested in her somehow. She probably wanted to build up a rapport by answering his questions, but only the ones she led him towards. It was a subtle kind of manipulation, but not something that Albert didn¡¯t expect. Though he had let his guard down somewhat when he realized that Pincushion had somehow followed him from school to the office.


    ¡°Sure.¡± Albert nodded slowly. ¡°But, about the tasks you have for us?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Hope offered another fake toothy grin. ¡°I want you two to scout out a neighborhood for us. We¡¯re looking for where we want to move our operation in the next two months or so, and we¡¯re vetting candidate areas to see if they¡¯re already in a contractor¡¯s territory or not.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Graham spoke up. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too bad. And I assume take advantage of any opportunities as we can?¡±


    ¡°Naturally. If you see a wandering spirit, don¡¯t just let it get away.¡±


    ¡°How are we supposed to tell if another contractor is in the area?¡± Albert asked. It seemed a logical question, though it was probably obvious to them. Even if they played it off as foolish, it would still give Albert some of the warning signs he could look out for if he ever got his freedom back and wanted to avoid living somewhere where he might lose it again.


    Hope cleared her through in a condescending display that sounded like it was stifling a chuckle, before offering her guidance. ¡°There are a few telltale signs. The first is a near absence of wandering spirits, including animal spirits. The second is traces of a sudden uptick in criminal activity, commonly vandalism, armed robbery, theft, and truancy.¡±


    Albert looked over to Graham to confirm, and his nod seemed to be doing just that. ¡°A dead giveaway is if someone offers us a contract.¡±


    The non-joke from the older man immediately brought doubt into Albert¡¯s mind if he was actually in good hands.


    ¡°You look like you think he¡¯s joking, Albert, but that¡¯s a legitimate strategy.¡± Hope said with a nod of her own. ¡°If you stumble into a contractor¡¯s den, or if you go looking for one, it¡¯s entirely possible they¡¯ll offer you a deal for no real reason. And it¡¯s more likely if you don¡¯t look like the kind of person that¡¯s supposed to be there.¡±


    ¡°What area will we be looking at, exactly, and will we need someone to transport us there?¡± Graham asked.


    Albert hadn¡¯t even thought to ask, but it made sense. He only had two destinations, well three if he counted Graham himself, where he could go with his quill. And if this new area was far enough away, it wouldn¡¯t make sense to get there any other way.


    ¡°It¡¯s a borough not too incredibly far from here. But I think you¡¯ll probably have a landing point close by. I¡¯ll text you a street address. I want you to scout out a five mile radius to start. If you don¡¯t find any trace of anything, you can come back early.¡±


    ¡°And what if we do?¡± Albert swallowed hard at the thought of what he might end up having to do.


    ¡°Take care of it yourselves, if you can. And if you can¡¯t¡­ well, Graham will be fine at least."

 Chapter Twenty-Six: The Cusp of Going Very Poorly

    ¡°Alright, she¡¯s sent me the address.¡± Graham grunted as he clapped his own phone shut and stuffed it unceremoniously into a coat pocket. ¡°I have a spot near there we can pop in on. Though, I haven¡¯t used it in a few years, so be prepared to act casual in case it isn¡¯t as private as it used to be.¡±


    After they had been excused from Hope¡¯s office¡ªwhich Albert thought was strange, as it had been a rather formal affair¡ªGraham had led him towards the other side of the front office where there was an open doorway without a placard in front of it. Albert could hear Graham clatter through something, possibly a locker or a filing cabinet, before returning to the central room of the office and nodding towards the front door.


    ¡°We should get going before anyone tries to get in our way.¡± Graham grumbled.


    Albert nodded in silent agreement and held the door open for his new co-worker. The action garnered silent looks from the several people doing busy work behind the few desks in the office. Outside the door, Amy gave the two a nod of approval as she maintained her post. The whole thing felt so official that Albert was more than a little nervous.


    Graham led Albert to the side of the office, and Albert expected them to make it around to the back of the building before departing. It would have given them the most cover. But a quick halted step that forced Albert o bump into Graham¡¯s side, and an accompanying sharp pain in Albert¡¯s wrist, signaled their unexpected departure.


    If it weren¡¯t for the pain Albert might not have noticed the shift in their surroundings. The sting was familiar, however, and the subtle shift from one narrow passage between a single story building and chain link fence to another similar passage. It was the way the sky looked that tipped Albert off first. The pain certainly helped, but the shift from a mid-day overcast sky to bright blue morning sky was the most obvious sign.


    ¡°You could have warned me.¡± Albert muttered, massaging his wrist where Graham¡¯s quill had jabbed him. ¡°I would have had to stab me in the shoulder.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to keep it discrete in case anything had changed or anyone was watching.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it have been more discrete if I knew it was coming?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Graham said with a shrug.


    Albert let out a groan at the obtuse response, but didn¡¯t let the attitude get to him. Something told him that was just eh way Graham was. Even if the collector didn¡¯t have a problem with Albert specifically, it seemed he had a problem with people in general.


    ¡°How long of a walk will it take to¡ª¡± Albert cut himself off as he felt something brush up against his leg. ¡°¡ªReally?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Graham slouched into a more prepared stance as he spoke. His voice had changed on a dime into one far more serious than he had been moments before.


    ¡°Pincushion followed us, somehow.¡±


    Albert looked down at the cat as it a figure eight around his legs, its tail wrapping closely as it moved in tight circles. It didn¡¯t seem at all bothered that he was busy, or that he hadn¡¯t wanted the cat to tag along. But there seemed to be no stopping the beast.


    ¡°Geez, kid. It¡¯s gonna give us away.¡± Graham growled and slouched further into more aggravated posture. ¡°If a half-dead, or a contractor, or anyone else with spirit sight catches us interacting with the cat at all, they¡¯re going to know that we¡¯re probably exactly what we are.¡±


    ¡°Good point.¡± Albert said, still looking down at the cat. ¡°Pincushion. I need you to be discrete.¡±


    It was a futile effort, or so Albert thought. When he¡¯d addressed the cat directly, it had been more an act of comedic coping. If there was no way of actually getting rid of the thing, Albert was prepared to figure out a way to cope with its presence. But, to his surprise, the cat spirit took a step to his side and sat down as it was ordered.


    ¡°Huh.¡± Albert frowned in confusion. ¡°Graham, I don¡¯t suppose you know much about animal spirits?¡±


    ¡°Amy had a crow spirit dive bomb her for a few days straight once, but apart from that it¡¯s just guesses and secondhand stories.¡±


    ¡°Ever heard of one being trained before?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they last long enough to be trained. But I guess it¡¯s possible.¡± Graham furrowed his brow as he spoke. ¡°Hold on.¡±


    Albert watched patiently, as did Pincushion, as Graham rummaged through his own pockets for a contact lens case much like Amy had used before. The man carefully dropped an lens in each eye, blinked rapidly for a moment, and then knelt down to look more closely at the cat.


    ¡°It looks like it was a domestic cat before it died. And the collar is odd. It¡¯s got a bell, but I haven¡¯t heard it jingle once this whole time.¡±


    ¡°I figured there was probably a reason for that I didn¡¯t know about.¡±


    ¡°Not one I can think of. It¡¯s probably property.¡± Graham scratched his head as he leaned back on his haunches to address Albert. ¡°But I guess that is a reason, isn¡¯t it. I just don¡¯t couldn¡¯t tell you what kind of property or why it¡¯s making it not jingle.¡±


    As Graham leaned back down to get a closer look at the tag on Pincushion¡¯s collar, the cat batted his face gently with a paw. The collector didn¡¯t look phased at all, though it did confuse him.


    ¡°And it seems able to make contact on its own. Which is unusual for any kind of half-dead.¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯d been wondering about that too.¡± Albert knelt down as well, his curiosity was finally too high to actually care about the spirit being potentially dangerous.


    Graham sighed and stood back up. The collector pointed an accusatory finger down at Albert as he said, ¡°It¡¯s always the weird folks that attract more weird stuff. This is the kind of thing you don¡¯t see often, but really only happens to people like you that don¡¯t know what they¡¯re doing. I would have never paid it any mind and it never would have latched on to me.¡±


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s just my luck, then.¡± Albert groaned. ¡°Can you at least be useful?¡±


    Albert¡¯s question had been levied at the cat, which seemed to acknowledge it with a faint mew. It didn¡¯t do anything else, but it felt like it knew it was being talked to at least.


    ¡°Maybe you can sniff out other spirits for us.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it, cat¡¯s aren¡¯t exactly known for their ability to track by scent.¡±


    ¡°I know you know I wasn¡¯t being literal. Spirits don¡¯t smell like anything.¡± Albert pressed a finger to his temple in frustration. ¡°But don¡¯t you think it could maybe alert us to a spirit nearby?¡±


    ¡°I dunno.¡± Graham shrugged. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t trust it to lead us to anything useful. But maybe.¡±


    With a rolled eye that Pincushion seemed to mimic, Albert rose to his feet as well and lowered his head towards Graham. ¡°You¡¯re a real optimist aren¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Graham coughed. ¡°But we should get going. It¡¯s about a ten minute walk to the address we¡¯re supposed to start at.¡±


    With a hand wave signaling the collector to lead the way, Albert made it clear he was ready to finally get along with things. Pincushion followed quietly behind the two as they walked. After a few minutes, Albert almost completely forgot about the spirit that seemed intent to go wherever he did. It was almost a comfort to know that it was there too, like an added extra ally even if all it could provide was a pet-like degree of moral support. Even if it understood him, it was stuck in the form of a house cat and there wasn¡¯t much it would be able to do that could really protect him.


    After Graham signaled they had reached the address Hope had sent them too¡ª which Albert was baffled by, as it was just an intersection on the outskirts of an urban area¡ªthe collector nodded in the direction of what looked like a food district. Restaurants that looked like they wouldn¡¯t open until at least 5pm, lined both sides of the road. Most had some kind of outdoor patio seating or wide windows with a view of the street. Albert imagined it was probably a pretty nice place to spend an evening, but in the morning light he could see clear signs of a rowdier night life than he wanted to ever experience.


    Further down the street there were a series of building that looked less like fine eateries and more closed off. No outdoor area, less windows and a heavy tint to the glass of the windows that were there. Albert guessed night clubs, but he was only most right.


    ¡°I figured there¡¯d be one around here.¡± Graham grumbled in his low throaty voice that brought Albert to a stop long before the collector held out his arm to stop him. ¡°We should head back in the other direction.¡±


    ¡°Why, what¡¯s wrong with this direction?¡± Albert looked around himself cautiously, expecting to see something revealed by the lenses of his pair of glasses. But there was nothing unusual to be seen.


    Graham wrapped a large hand around Alert shoulder and attempted to steer him in the direction they¡¯d come from. ¡°It¡¯s not so much what you can see as what you can¡¯t. That brick building on the end of the street is a contracting den. I¡¯d bet my life on it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Albert resisted the shove he was receiving and stared down the street at the building in question.


    By all accounts it was a normal pub. Maybe a little old, but it was probably just a local staple that hadn¡¯t been bought out to host a more modern venue. Nothing stood out at first, and that was what Albert suspected might have been the giveaway, but even then there was nothing he could really discern deeper than that that might give it away.


    ¡°There¡¯s no address on the front of the building and the brick doesn¡¯t match the foundations of the other buildings on the street. It looks like it might fit in, but like it could also fit in pretty much anywhere.¡±


    Albert narrowed his eyes, trying to make out more details about the building even as Graham was practically dragging him away. ¡°Wow, I didn¡¯t see that at all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and you won¡¯t see anything at all in a bit if you don¡¯t get going in the other direction.¡±


    Graham had devoted his full effort into pushing Albert now, but it was the pushing of Pincushion at Albert¡¯s ankles that told him there was something genuinely dangerous about lingering in that area. The collector might have had some ulterior motive, but the cat didn¡¯t seem to. And if they were acting in unity, there was something to be worried about.


    As they were waiting for a street light to change so they could cross an intersection and leave the restaurant district altogether, another pedestrian caught their attention.


    ¡°You two lost?¡±


    It seemed a natural enough question for a stranger to ask, and it seemed like the kind of area where you might actually make absent conversation with a stranger on the street. But something about the stranger was off. He didn¡¯t seem have the attitude to match it, but he towered over Graham. His height and obvious muscle mass were jarring. He was clearly well built, though he didn¡¯t have that level of muscle definition that a body builder has. Still, his size was enough to be intimidating. Yet, his demeanor seemed perfectly pleasant and friendly.


    ¡°Just took a wrong turn is all.¡± Graham responded brusquely.


    ¡°Yeah, it happens. They redid the roads around here a while ago and a bunch of new restaurants kind of popped up out of nowhere.¡± The man leaned casually up against the post where the button to signal the crosswalk was, carefully obscuring their access to it. ¡°You guys look kind of worn out. I know a place that¡¯s open early and serves spring water cheap. Let me get you some.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good.¡± Graham responded again.


    ¡°You¡¯re clearly new in town, so you probably don¡¯t know, but McClellan¡¯s is a landmark. You should at least check it out.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡ª¡± Graham swore under his breath as he turned back to Albert. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±


    Albert finally picked up on what was happening after probably far too long of being confused by the pushiness of the stranger. ¡°Are you a promoter for McClellan¡¯s then?¡±


    ¡°I guess you could say that.¡± The man nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m like a promoter.¡±


    ¡°We should bail.¡± Graham whispered quietly towards Albert in such a way that his mouth hardly moved.


    Albert seriously considered it. But this stranger was easily within grabbing range, which brought to Albert¡¯s attention the biggest flaw he had never considered about quill travel. There didn¡¯t seem to be a way of controlling who accompanied you when you decided to go somewhere. Pincushion had been tagging along this whole time, probably by gently and quietly pressing up against his leg at each point of travel. If this stranger grabbed hold of Albert as he tried to bail, he¡¯d probably get dragged along with him. And then he¡¯d be separated from Graham and have a whole new problem to deal with. Even if he managed to make it to Death¡¯s office with this stranger in tow, there was no stopping this stranger from dragging him back to that brick building with a quill of their own¡ªassuming they had one.


    The situation called for a more tactful approach.


    ¡°You know, I think I am a little parched.¡± Albert announced, nudging Graham casually in the side. ¡°Why don¡¯t we give McClellan¡¯s a shot.¡±


    Graham closed his eyes slowly and let out a deep breath as he tried to calm himself from what was clearly a great deal of internal frustration at Albert¡¯s decision. The stranger didn¡¯t seem to care. His eyes were locked on Albert now, and they looked greedy.


    ¡°Good choice.¡± The stranger said with a grin. ¡°Follow me. It¡¯s just that brick building at the end of the street."

 Chapter Twenty-Seven: Worst Case Scenario

    There¡¯s a strange right of passage in some societies, where one¡¯s first venture into an establishment meant to serve hard drinks and host lively entertainment is marked with celebration. If Albert had been more social, and if he had been of the proper age, this first entrance into such a place would have been marked with celebration. As it was, he was met only with curious and menacing glances from the patrons of the pub. Graham was the only one that didn¡¯t honestly want to try their luck in a fight with the teenager, and even then he was still fuming silently.


    The stranger that had brought the two members of Death¡¯s arbitration team to the pub, seemed to vanish as soon as they walked inside. He made a B line for the bar¡ªwhich was open, despite it being closer to 10 am than noon¡ªand began talking to the bartender as though he hadn¡¯t just dragged two strangers along with him under duress. He hadn¡¯t forgotten them completely, of course, as Albert saw the stranger gesture back to him and Graham amid the conversation he was having.


    The sort of waiting the stranger was putting Albert through was nerve wracking. His skin started to itch like it had all simultaneously dried out and begun to peel. And though he tried to avoid looking like he was carrying out a nervous tick by scratching every little spot that felt uncomfortable on his body, there were a few particular itchy spots that were impossible to avoid. The worst one was at Albert¡¯s shins, which he couldn¡¯t scratch properly without bending over and he wasn¡¯t about to do that in his current surroundings. By some miracle, Pincushion began to do figure eights around his legs again and the light pressure seemed to make the itching subside.


    In the time it had taken Albert to look down at the cat spirit at his feet, the man that had brought him to the pub had vanished completely. Albert couldn¡¯t see head nor tail of the man, which was impressive considering his size. But now there was no one standing between him and the bar tender, and that was less pleasant than being dragged into the establishment to begin with.


    The man sitting behind the bar looked older, worn, and perhaps like one or both of his parents could have been an honest to goodness grizzly bear. His dark brown hair had streaks of wavy blond that reached down to his shoulders in messy tangles, and his beard matched in appearance and length. And the worst part about him, the part that made Albert really regret letting himself get pulled into the pub, were the bar tenders eyes. They were beady and small, like pinholes in an otherwise wide and intimidating face.


    ¡°Step up, you two. I haven¡¯t got time for gawkers.¡± The bar tender called out. His voice harsh and steeped in a European accent that Albert didn¡¯t recognize.


    Graham was the first to move, but still proceeded with a great deal of reluctance. Albert followed close by, wary of the other dozen or so patrons occupying the pub. No one in the building looked like the kind of person that Albert could take in a fight, not by a long shot. They all seemed stronger than average, wider, and like they really wanted to prove they could win a fight. Or so their glares seemed to say.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± The bartender addressed Graham directly. ¡°You know you¡¯re not welcome here.¡±


    Albert paled at the realization that there had been more to Graham¡¯s discomfort than just a desire to avoid conflict. It hadn¡¯t occurred to Albert at all that this man who could have well been over a hundred years old and wasn¡¯t physically capable of dying would probably have some bad history with people that would rather see him dead. But that seemed to be just the case. Albert could see the disdain in the bar tenders eyes, pointed mostly at Graham¡ªthough Albert also felt some pushed his way by association.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t about to pick a fight with one of your steroid monkeys, Travis.¡±Graham scoffed as he sat down at the bar. ¡°I¡¯d either win and you¡¯d pitch a fit, or he¡¯d win and I¡¯d have to kill myself in embarrassment.¡±


    ¡°Oh, let¡¯s be honest, Graham.¡± Travis growled. ¡°You¡¯ve been embarrassed for well over a century and you¡¯d have killed yourself for it already if you could.¡±


    ¡°Well, you asked why I was here.¡±


    ¡°Well, now I know. You¡¯re here because you¡¯re still a twat and you always will be. And the only regret I have now is that I haven¡¯t got a way to make you leave that won¡¯t start a bloody war.¡±


    ¡°You could try asking.¡± Graham chuckled darkly at his own suggestion.


    ¡°Well then, would you kindly leave my pub you worthless pile of slag?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Graham said with a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure, Travis. I¡¯ll see you again in another hundred years.¡±


    ¡°Sure, unless your French pig of an owner puts you down first.¡±


    Graham didn¡¯t respond to that comment, just shrugged and bowed his head like it was a totally reasonable possibility that he¡¯d already considered or thought was likely. Albert was ready to follow the collectors lead and exit the pub, when a hand slapped down on his shoulder and held him in place.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Trav.¡± A new voice said. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re misinterpreting Graham¡¯s intentions. He brought fresh meat. Maybe he¡¯d trying to make nice.¡±


    The man who was sitting at the bar two seats to the left of Graham had spun around and stopped Albert in his tracks. His arm, easily one of the beefiest in the building, didn¡¯t look as long as it was. But it had to have been much longer than it looked if he¡¯d been able to reach Albert from so far away. But he looked perfectly proportional. Albert didn¡¯t realize that that was due to the man being close to seven feet tall.


    ¡°Not today, Liam.¡± Travis said with a deep breath, like he was trying to keep his composure. ¡°Not today.¡±


    ¡°Well, we should at least ask some questions of them before we send them off back to wherever it is they¡¯re from to report on us.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°We¡¯re investigating the area, not you, Liam.¡± Graham hissed. ¡°If we wanted to report on you, we¡¯d have just bought out your little pet recruiter as a resource.¡±


    The other man, Liam, leaned back and laughed at the comment. He didn¡¯t seem to take it as the threat it was supposed to be. In fact, he hardly seemed uncomfortable at all.


    ¡°Aye, that makes sense, doesn¡¯t it Travis?¡± Liam looked to the other man standing behind the bar and shared a nod with him. ¡°In that case, since I trust you¡¯re being honest with me, how about we square things up like old times and maybe there¡¯ll even be something in it for you.¡±


    Graham let out a deep sigh, and muttered, ¡°You can¡¯t hurt me, Liam. That¡¯s not how things work anymore.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s fair.¡± Liam agreed, never letting his grin take a hit as he acknowledged his powerlessness to harm Graham. ¡°But we can certainly have a go with your new friend.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not happening.¡± Graham stood again, and really Albert was beginning to wonder why he¡¯d sat down at all. ¡°Let¡¯s go, kid. They can¡¯t stop us without starting a turf war and no one wants that.¡±


    ¡°Now, hold on¡­¡± Travis said with a mischievous whistle that seemed to signal all of the patrons in the pub to action. ¡°Depending on who you¡¯re working for now, a turf war might be profitable.¡±


    ¡°Oh, great.¡± Graham spat. ¡°Don¡¯t tell him who we work for, it¡¯s not going to change anything. They want blood, we¡¯ll have to show them some blood.¡±


    At the mention of blood, Albert went pale. A quick glance around the room told him that not only had things gotten out of hand very quickly, they were getting much worse by the second. All of the pub patrons were on their feet and either blocking off the doors or circling around the bar. It was a clear intimidation tactic, and it was working.


    Albert let himself take a quick deep breath before inserting himself back into the conversation. ¡°Now, when you say square things up¡­ you¡¯re going to have to let me know what that entails before I decide if I¡¯m going to do it or not.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª¡±Graham started to protest, but Travis cut him off as soon as he saw the collector¡¯s mouth open.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing too dangerous or complicated. We just call it a game of guts.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Liam joined in. ¡°Sort of a rite of passage anyway if you come into our little establishment looking for something. Just prove to us that you have the guts required to be the kind of person I¡ªwe want to deal with.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a terrible idea.¡± Albert said casually, doing his utmost to make it seem like it still wasn¡¯t that bad. Graham seemed relieved for a moment, but then Albert kept talking. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    ¡°Ha ha! Yes! It takes guts to play guts!¡± Liam cheered. ¡°And it looks like you¡¯ve got the bare minimum kid.¡±


    ¡°Now, mind you, I do have some stipulations.¡± Albert corrected the eager man sitting at the bar. ¡°While I want to show my guts, as you put it, I¡¯m not doing anything unless you agree to them in writing.¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯s got more than the bare minimum if he¡¯s trying to deal with us in our own establishment, Liam.¡± Travis frowned as he spoke. Something about the brazen nature of the negotiation had made him suspicious.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing too daring, trust me.¡± Albert attempted to wave it off, but even as he did his mind was racing to formulate a strategy as he went.


    ¡°Alright, we can at least hear him out. Gimme the, ah, the paper.¡± Liam held his hand back to Travis and snapped his fingers at the man as he reached down to produce paper and pens from behind the bar. ¡°What are your stipulations, kid?¡±


    ¡°First, I reserve the right not to do anything that involves drinking alcohol on the grounds that I¡¯m underage.¡±


    ¡°Geeze, they start you guys young these days, don¡¯t they.¡± Travis commented with an exasperated breath.


    Albert ignored the comment. ¡°Second, I reserve the right to not participate in any activity which poses a blatant risk of loss of life.¡±


    ¡°They teach em to talk the talk young, at least.¡± Liam muttered with a chuckle as his hand, pen in his grip, blazed across the page. ¡°But I don¡¯t see any problems with that. Those are both reasonable and not something I had in mind anyway.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie. ¡°Graham growled. ¡°You were going to have him take a shot of that blasted knife liquor.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t carry it anymore, Graham.¡± Travis said as he lowered his gaze down to the collector. ¡°Not after the French pig that cut you loose said he liked it.¡±


    ¡°Fair play.¡± Graham assented. ¡°I would have stopped serving it then too.¡±


    ¡°I take it you¡¯re not working for dear old Death anymore?¡± Liam chuckled.


    ¡°At the moment, no.¡± Graham shrugged. ¡°But benefits are benefits, even if they get served by a pig.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have any loyalty left in you at all, do you.¡± Travis muttered in his deep bass voice. ¡°Such a shame.¡±


    ¡°A real shame.¡± Liam said with a nod of agreement. ¡°But let¡¯s see if your side kick can manage to show some courage to counteract your gutlessness.¡±


    Liam slid the paper across the bar so that it was positioned in front of an empty bar stood. Albert was pointed towards the stool rather than the document, which he sat down on. The crowd that had gathered around made him uncomfortable as he read through the quickly scrawled contract. The language was similar to how Death phrased things in his contracts, or so Albert thought at first. The biggest difference was that this was in pretty clear terms, the legalese was the only real similarity. Everything he had requested was in clear writing, and nothing else had been added. The man had even already signed at the bottom. Albert took note of the name, Liam McClellan, and began to put the pieces together slowly.


    ¡°This looks good to go.¡± Albert hummed as he tapped the bottom of the page against the bar top to level it out before setting it down to sign it with the pen he¡¯d been handed.


    Something about the ease of the arrangement made it feel like it wasn¡¯t an actual binding contract. Maybe it was the freshness of the paper that looked like it could have been purchased at an office supply store, or the simple ball point pen that had been used to write it down. Maybe it was the blue ink instead of black that felt off to Albert. That being said, having it down in writing seemed to be a big enough deal that the people gathered around were muttering about it. If nothing else, if Liam went against his word, he¡¯d lose credibility for being underhanded. That thought gave Albert enough comfort to sign his own name and hand the page back.


    ¡°Fantastic. It¡¯s always exciting to get things in writing, don¡¯t you think, Albert?¡± Liam had a wide grin on his face as he read over the signature and handed the page back to Travis.


    ¡°It¡¯s a little less thrilling every time.¡± Albert replied casually. ¡°But I am excited to see what kind of game of courage you have in mind.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s traditionally a little back and forth.¡± Liam said with a gentle shake of his head. ¡°I challenge you, you challenge me, back and forth till we¡¯re both satisfied with the guts of the other.¡±


    ¡°And house rules dictate Liam goes first.¡± Travis added on. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be any fun without a host advantage after all.¡±


    ¡°And I pick arm wrestling!¡± Liam announced and was met with a roar of approval.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Travis was about to object, but Albert agreed before he could finish. ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡±


    Liam excitedly slammed his hand down on the bar and pulled himself up and over to the other side without further argument. As if taken by some kind of frenzy, the large man smashed his elbow to the bar top and positioned himself for the ensuing challenge. And it was at that moment, as he witnessed the crazed look in Liam¡¯s eyes and the excite frenzy of the patrons contrast against the careful and meticulous watching eye of Travis, that a plan began to solidify within his mind.

 Chapter Twenty-Eight: Guts and Gravitas

    It was less of a plan and more of a strategy really. The end goal was clear though¡ªget out of the pub alive and without issue. The former part was probably the hardest, as the latter would probably follow naturally. The first step was, apparently, arm wrestling.


    There was obviously a disconnect between Liam and Travis. While they looked similar, and perhaps had similar values, Liam seemed more outgoing and adventurous. Travis was the one that made Albert nervous. The man clearly thought things through faster than Liam did, assuming Liam thought them through at all. And while Liam seemed interested in exercising his brawn to solve all of his problems, Albert had no idea just how intelligent Travis actually was or how the man planned to take advantage of the situation he now found himself in.


    Amid the animosity between Graham and the two men, and the jeering of the small crowd, and the intimidating presence of the two men that may well have both been contractors, Albert saw only a handful of things clearly. Foremost, they would punish Graham in whatever way they could, most likely by making Albert suffer and Graham fail at his job in the process. Underlying that, they seemed to be just as invested in using their two guests to their advantage. They wanted something. The determination in Liam¡¯s stance as he stood ready to prove his strength spoke of both a sporting love of battle and also of a desire to accomplish a goal. Albert felt, in his gut, that that goal was his key to achieving his own goal of peaceful departure.


    But Albert wasn¡¯t going to learn anything about anything if all he did was stand there and size his opponent up. He already knew he¡¯d lose. But what he wasn¡¯t sure about was what would happen if he did. As Albert locked his hand into the grip of Liam¡¯s much larger hand, he glanced over to the contract he¡¯d signed that Travis still held in his hand. There had been nothing in it about stipulations on what would happen if he won or lost in a contest. But arm wrestling hardly even seemed like a contest of courage to begin with, which was why Albert had accepted it so easily. If it didn¡¯t matter if he won or not, then why was he even doing it in the first place?


    ¡°You ready, kid?¡± Liam said, his face dominated by his eager smile.


    ¡°Sure, give me a countdown.¡± Albert responded evenly.


    ¡°Alright. On go. Three¡­¡± Liam began.


    The small crowd picked up the countdown instinctively, and Albert could hardly hear Liam amid their voices. He only saw the man¡¯s mouth move as he steadied his body.


    ¡°Two. One.¡± The crowd roared. ¡°Go!¡±


    Albert had kept his arm tense up to that moment. He had flexed gently against the might of Liam¡¯s grip, giving the man the impression that he¡¯d be trying his hardest. But as soon as the crowd said ¡®go¡¯ he had let his arm go limp. The impact against the wooden bar counter was hard. Albert¡¯s knuckles felt like they might have splintered a little bit, but it was mostly just that sharp and cold pain that happens when you hit something as fast as you can, and then there was the dull warm pain and soreness that lingered afterwards.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Albert said with a chuckle. ¡°You really are as strong as you look.¡±


    The crowd had gone begun to roar in excitement as soon as they¡¯d said go, but as soon as they had there was hardly a moment to spare before Albert¡¯s hand hit the wood and they had all stopped. The pub had gone into a dead quiet, only Albert¡¯s absent-minded laughter echoed through the space. And that space felt instantly smaller and deadlier.


    ¡°What?¡± Albert asked, a hint of laughter still in his voice.


    That laughter was calculated though, he had to put on a good show or he wouldn¡¯t be able to get away without actually trying to compete. And after that first show of force from Liam, Albert knew that applying any strength of his own would end badly. Liam would overpower him just as easily but also probably break something in the process.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even try.¡± Liam growled. His mood had immediately soured.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not tear anything trying.¡± Albert retorted. ¡°And I doubt I could win anyway. Have yo seen my arms? Or your arms, for that matter?¡±


    The veiled compliment was an intentional appeal to Liam¡¯s ego, though Albert wasn¡¯t sure how effective that would be.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how the game is supposed to be played. You¡¯re supposed to show courage, not cave at the slightest challenge.¡± Liam hissed.


    ¡°Sometimes it takes courage to admit you¡¯re weak.¡± Albert said with shrug. ¡°And besides, an arm wrestling match is hardly a game of courage. If you¡¯re willing to try something with some real guts to it, I have a better option.¡±


    Liam exchanged a look with Travis. The more careful man shrugged, as if to say I was going to warn you that your idea was dumb. Albert picked up that much at least, but there was something else there too that he couldn¡¯t quite decipher. Something mildly affectionate, warning, maybe even a threat. It was an odd mix of emotions. None of them well concealed at all.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Liam assented. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s been a game I¡¯ve wanted to try out for a while now¡ª¡± Albert began, before turning to Graham who had been glaring quietly from the inner fringes of the crowd. ¡°Graham, do you have a knife on you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡± Graham said with a roll of his eyes as he produced a long straight bladed dagger from somewhere within his heavy coat. ¡°I always have a few on me.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a second identical one?¡± Albert asked, hopeful. It would make the game seem more fair if the knives were the same, but they didn¡¯t have to be.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Graham raised an eyebrow, now uncertain with how events were taking a turn.


    ¡°I better explain my game, first. Shouldn¡¯t I.¡± Albert mumbled to himself, but loudly enough that everyone could hear. ¡°You see, the goal is not to flinch. But the game is designed to make that very likely. In order to play, we each place our hands flat down on the table, palms down. And then we select someone we don¡¯t know well and don¡¯t trust not to hurt us, and they get the knife. Our strangers have to stab the knives down between our fingers¡ªstarting with the gap between thumb and index finger and moving back and forth¡ªand at any time either of us can announce faster. When either of us does that, both strangers have to pick up the pace.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Travis hummed as he took in the game in. ¡°You want to play five finger fillet¡­ with a twist.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we can make that happen.¡± Liam cackled. ¡°We get to pick our strangers, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But they do need to be strangers.¡± Albert clarified. ¡°You can¡¯t pick Travis, for instance.¡±


    ¡°And you can¡¯t pick Graham.¡± Liam said with a confident but slow nod of his head.


    ¡°Actually, I can.¡± Albert corrected, as he gestured to Graham to come back to the bar. ¡°And I do. You see, I met Graham for the first time last night. We¡¯ve hardly talked at all and I know nothing about the man apart from his most surface layer temperament and obligations.¡±


    Travis narrowed his eyes at Albert, now fully aware of what he was playing at. Albert, acknowledging the glare, merely shrugged.


    ¡°I also have no clue if Graham is even good with a knife.¡± Albert added. ¡°He could be very sloppy. Collectors can be like that, can¡¯t they? Only relying on their durability to win fights and avoid being terminated.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡± Liam assented easily. He wasn¡¯t paying any mind to the look of concern on Travis¡¯s face. ¡°In that case I pick you.¡±


    Liam had pointed, seemingly randomly, into the crowd that had gathered around and a large man that looked somewhat similar to Liam himself stepped forward. Albert gave a nod of approval and motioned for Graham to step around the bar so that they could face each other. The stranger from the crowd made his way over next to Albert and faced Liam. Graham produced a second identical dagger and handed it to the stranger.


    ¡°Now, remember,¡± Travis said carefully. ¡°You¡¯ve just added these two strangers into the agreement you¡¯ve signed. They¡¯re bound to do follow the same rules. So don¡¯t either of you two go getting any ideas about hurting anyone on purpose.¡±


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    ¡°And don¡¯t break my knife.¡± Graham growled at the stranger that had accepted it and was testing it in his hand.


    ¡°Not a chance.¡± The man responded. ¡°It¡¯s nice. How about if we win I get to keep it.¡±


    Graham looked to Albert, not for any kind of conscious confirmation but for some kind of reassurance. The collector was confident that he could play his part fine, but he was concerned about Albert. Even if he never actually nicked the young arbitrator¡¯s fingers, there was still a good chance that he¡¯d flinch from a close call. But the determined look on Albert¡¯s face, which now mimicked the one that Liam had worn earlier, told Graham that there was little chance of that.


    ¡°Deal.¡± Graham said with a nod.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll let you count off again.¡± Albert announced. ¡°Start stabbing on go.¡±


    ¡°Three¡ª¡±Liam began with little ceremony and the crowd picked up again.


    The onlookers seemed much more excited this time around. There was genuine cheering mixed in with the countdown. ¡°Two. One. Go!¡±


    As soon as the crowd said ¡®go¡¯ Albert locked his jaw in place and he let his eyes go out of focus as he stared into the distance. He could still hear Graham and the stranger start tapping away as their knives clicked against the polished wooden countertop. Graham had started just a little faster than the stranger, so the stranger had a tough time matching pace.


    As soon as both knife wielding strangers seemed to be going in sync, Albert spoke up.


    ¡°Faster.¡± He announced.


    Graham picked up the speed of his stabbing immediately and the stranger had to struggle again to keep in time with the clearly more practiced collector.


    ¡°Go faster, you ape.¡± Liam hissed.


    ¡°Okay, you heard the man.¡± Albert let himself the slightest smirk as he intentionally misinterpreted Liam¡¯s words.


    Graham understood the strategy immediately and sped up again before the other stranger could even catch up to the first increase in speed.


    Throughout this first exchange, Albert didn¡¯t dare look at Travis. He knew the more intelligent of the men wouldn¡¯t be taking the underhandedness of the game well. Liam¡¯s arm wrestling challenge, while unfair, hadn¡¯t been underhanded and that clearly wasn¡¯t the spirit of the game. But Liam had agreed. Still, Albert was concerned with Travis¡¯s silence. He could hear Liam growling in frustration at the incompetence of his stranger, but Travis was dead silent and still in Albert¡¯s periphery.


    ¡°Faster!¡± Liam demanded as soon as his stranger caught up to Graham again.


    This time the increase in speed was more balanced. Both strangers were tapping away with their knives in lock step, but the pace had increased drastically from the first round. And after the first rotation of fingers, Liam spat out a curse and leapt back from the bar.


    ¡°You absolute gorilla! You nearly chopped my finger off!¡±


    Graham stopped one tap after the other stranger did and Albert let himself refocus on the room around him. Liam had the web space between his thumb and index finger in his mouth and there was a small splatter of blood on the bar top where his hand had been. Apart from signaling his victory, the blood told Albert something else important about contractors in general. They could bleed. Albert tucked that piece of information away for later.


    ¡°Looks like we win.¡± Albert said with a confident grin. ¡°And you get to keep your knife.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s cut Liam.¡± Graham said with an even bigger grin. ¡°I¡¯ll treasure it forever now.¡±


    That concerning statement and Travis¡¯s disappointed glare aside, Albert was still happy with his victory. Graham had to snatch his dagger back out of the stunned stranger¡¯s hands, but no one did anything to stop them. In fact, the crowd around the bar seemed quite pleased with this outcome. It had seemed to be a much fairer match than before, and with the spilling of blood the onlookers were even more invigorated.


    ¡°Come here.¡± Liam hissed as he held out his good hand to towards the stranger he had plucked from the crowd.


    Hesitation evident on his face, the man slowly reached out and grabbed Liam¡¯s hand. The second he did, he vanished from sight. Liam seemed much more content after the display, which Albert couldn¡¯t quite make heads or tails of, and when he removed his hand from his mouth there wasn¡¯t a trace of blood or injury to be seen.


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll concede that was well done.¡± Travis said flatly. ¡°Underhanded, but you still didn¡¯t even get close to flinching.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s twice as gutsy.¡± Liam cackled, his mood instantly improved. ¡°To try and trick us in our own den and make a good show out of it too. I can respect that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll at least say you¡¯re worthy of the prize we have in mind.¡± Travis said. Albert could still see the trace of displeasure on his face, but the conditions of their competition had been met and that was all they had asked for.


    ¡°Work it out with them, will you? I want to go make sure the rest of these dolts don¡¯t get any ideas about me after that loss.¡± Liam said with a huff as he swung his massive body back over the bar top.


    Graham moved back around the bar to sit next to Albert, his posture still defensive but more relaxed now. The collector seemed to feel safer after the exchange, though perhaps a bit bewildered by how things had gone down.


    ¡°What¡¯s this prize, then?¡± Albert asked frankly. It was hard to keep a straight face at that point as the adrenaline that had slowly built up in his system over the course of the knife game was now in full swing and he had nothing to do with it. His heart was racing and he had to force himself to stay calm and still.


    ¡°The privilege of helping us settle a dispute.¡± Travis answered as he leaned down to produce another sheet of paper from below the bar. ¡°Regardless of who it is you¡¯re working for, you¡¯re a third party. You wouldn¡¯t be here otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Third party?¡± Albert thought out loud.


    Graham grabbed the paper first, just before Alert could lay a hand on it, and began to mutter the words to himself. Albert could only make out a few of the phrases as the collector read quickly and without clear enunciation, but he was getting the gist of it.


    ¡°Looks like this is already disputed territory.¡± Graham announced as he handed the page to Albert. ¡°So we could probably head back and deliver a report that this isn¡¯t a good place to migrate to.¡±


    ¡°It might be, if you¡¯re willing to help us carve out some hard territorial lines.¡± Travis objected. ¡°You see, Albert, we only deal with a select sort of contract here. And our neighbor, the one we¡¯d like you to talk to on our behalf doesn¡¯t have any overlapping business interests. We could hypothetically share the geographic area without any problems; which is something we¡¯ve been able to manage before. But this other contractor doesn¡¯t seem interested in that for some reason.¡±


    After a short scan of the document he¡¯d been handed, Albert looked back up to ask the most obvious question that came to mind. ¡°What are the two types of contracts being written here, then?¡±


    It seemed the most sensible question. He still didn¡¯t want to give away that they were working for Death, and if he could mislead Travis by misrepresenting Death¡¯s business interests it might behoove him to know what kind of contracts were already being written in the are.


    ¡°We deal in self-improvement.¡± Travis gestured to the clientele of the pub around them. ¡°Physique, beauty, and confidence mostly. We help people be who they want to be for a time and then we collect on our investment. Our patrons are also fond of paying by proxy, which we don¡¯t object to.¡±


    ¡°Paying by proxy?¡± Albert asked quietly to Graham.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it fool you, it¡¯s scummy as hell. They let people pay for their contracts with other people¡¯s souls. Proxy payments are usually coerced.¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s no rules against it.¡± Travis countered defensively. ¡°An agreement is an agreement¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is an agreement.¡± Graham finished the catechism flippantly.


    ¡°And our neighbor deals in a sort of wish fulfillment. It¡¯s hardly real contracting work at all, but they take small payments from living people or half-deads to act as a communicator between them. Their shop¡¯s set up like a psychic¡¯s place. That¡¯s the real scummy kind of work, in my opinion.¡±


    Albert took the information in calmly. There was no real substantial benefit to working with the McClellans. The work the medium was doing even infringed on Death¡¯s work somewhat, so there was very little chance he¡¯d want to cooperate with the two factions if they reached an accord. But the concept was intriguing. It was possible that working with either of these factions might give Albert a hand up in escaping Death¡¯s influence. They were all likely just as dangerous, but they didn¡¯t have any immediate leverage over him. The only thing they knew about him was his name, and he was far enough away from home that it¡¯d be nearly impossible for them to find him based off of that.


    Looking to Graham for advice was useless. The man seemed about as interested in doing anything as a rock. Albert knew he¡¯d probably say not to pick sides or help anyone that didn¡¯t benefit him directly, but wasn¡¯t learning information from other sources a direct benefit?


    ¡°And what would happen if we visited this other contractor and they tried to kill us or enact some other kind of violence against us because of the association with you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no language in that contract for it.¡± Travis nodded coolly as he thought through the problem. ¡°I¡¯d be willing to addend that you can abandon the effort should unreasonable threat be made against you.¡±


    ¡°In that case I, at least, am willing to sign.¡± Albert handed the page back to Travis and fished out his own quill to sign with. He had been skeptical of the validity of the last agreement, and he wasn¡¯t going to be taking any chances now.


    Graham took a deep breath and shrugged, giving his non-verbal compliance. The collector looked down to the floor of the bar to where Pincushion had sat silently throughout the whole ordeal and looked down at the spirit.


    ¡°This kid is going to get us both killed.¡± He lamented to the cat spirit.


    ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± Travis asked, confused, as he leaned over the bar to look down where Graham was. ¡°Huh. How long has that been there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s haunting me.¡± Albert muttered.


    ¡°Want me to banish it?¡± Travis held out his own quill in the direction of the cat as he asked. The prospect was intriguing but Albert still felt as though there was some use to the cat.


    ¡°Nah. It¡¯s harmless.¡± Albert answered casually. ¡°And my employer adores her.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you really must not be working for that bald git.¡± Travis chuckled. ¡°One look at that stray and Death¡¯d have a grand time mangling it.¡±


    After a short scrawling, Travis handed back the page, now complete with his own signature on it. Travis McClellan. The family relation made sense, but Albert still wasn¡¯t entirely sure what kind of family relation it was.


    ¡°Well then, one third party negotiation coming up.¡± Albert announced as he flourished his quill over the bottom of the page.


    It felt easy to write his name out, but there was still a nagging doubt about the arrangement. And if he¡¯d focused more, if Albert had just thought a little harder about the situation, he might have realized that it was a terrible idea.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine: Medium Sized Operation

    After signing the contract Travis had presented them, Albert and Graham were able to leave the pub with ease. It might have had something to do with half of the rest of the patrons moving on to play their own games of five finger filet, but they were grateful for the discrete exit all the same. The only person that seemed to be paying attention was Travis. The contractor made Albert nervous; he wasn¡¯t predictable or forthcoming about anything. He had seemed sincere at times, but it only made Albert feel more and more uncomfortable around him. Everything felt intentional, and so the things that also felt natural stood out all the more.


    It wasn¡¯t until they had left the block that housed McClellan¡¯s pub that either Graham or Albert said anything. They¡¯d been given directions to the location of the other contractor, a small psychic business called Madame Offry¡¯s Psychic Services, and they were headed in that direction¡ªat least, according to Graham¡ªbut they weren¡¯t comfortable saying anything until they felt confident they were out of the area of the McClellan¡¯s direct influence. And even then, they weren¡¯t sure things were safe. But they had to speak up at some point, and Graham did just that.


    ¡°Your luck is terrifying, kid.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? Was I in over my head that badly?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t sure what to make of the implication.


    ¡°No.¡± Graham shook his head as he walked, his voice low as he was careful to try and avoid any unwanted ears. ¡°I mean that you got lucky, and you just barely scraped by. A little less luck and you¡¯d be dead. And I¡¯d¡­ I¡¯d be split to ribbons, stuffed in a box with concrete, and sent to the bottom of the ocean.¡±


    The detailed description of the horror Graham described as his worst case scenario was both mortifying and informative. Albert had no doubt that such a punishment would be possible and maybe even likely, but it also meant that that was around the effort that someone would have to expend to truly deal with Graham. It might have even been a necessary effort for all collectors if they were as durable as Albert had seen thus far.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t that clo¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. You don¡¯t understand kid.¡± Graham interrupted, louder now. ¡°I know them. They got me started in all this mess. I mean, technically I got them started in it first. But I wouldn¡¯t have been the first man they sent to a watery grave with stones in his boots. And you wouldn¡¯t have been the first kid they fed to the dogs either.¡±


    ¡°What do you¡­¡± Albert stopped on the sidewalk and put his hand to his face to cover up the confusion he couldn¡¯t hide. ¡°What do you mean that you got them started in this?¡±


    The rest of it, the murder, Albert could believe. It made him incredibly nauseous to think about, and he was actively trying not to think about it at all. But the part about Graham being the reason that two contractors were doing what they were was confusing. If he had gotten them where they were, then surely he wouldn¡¯t have been in a position where they had so much more power over him. And yet, he was a collector, an underling¡ªalbeit an incredibly durable one¡ªwhile they were contracting and siphoning the power of people souls to fuel their heart¡¯s desires.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know how collector¡¯s get their jobs, do you.¡± Graham turned back to Albert as he spoke. ¡°It¡¯s not really a pleasant situation.¡±


    ¡°Are you allowed to tell me?¡±


    ¡°I could probably figure out a way to tell you, but its a pretty universal command for collectors to never reveal the nature of that relationship to the uninitiated.¡±


    ¡°So how does it happen?¡±


    ¡°Not now.¡± Graham shook his head and Albert watched as his neatly arrayed waves of hair became more chaotic in the motion. ¡°It would take too long and I want to get this done as soon as possible so I can drag you back to the office and stop having to worry about you.¡±


    ¡°Then, tell me later.¡± Albert demanded, though his demand was voiced quietly and with hesitation. It felt strange to demand something so bluntly from someone who was so much his senior. And yet, the power dynamic seemed to fit. Graham was older, wiser, and probably a great deal stronger, but Albert was in control of the work. That was the sense he¡¯d gotten at least. As the arbitrator of the pair, he was just barely a run above a collector.


    ¡°Easy, kid. Don¡¯t get too big in your britches.¡± Graham grunted as he turned back to walk the way they had been headed before. He didn¡¯t seem to care if Albert followed.


    And Albert did follow, but he didn¡¯t drop the topic. He merely added the magic words. ¡°Please?¡±


    ¡°Hell, kid. You gotta stop saying please and thank you when you¡¯re on the job. You make demands and expect them to get done, or you get a knife in the back or a bullet in the gut. Might happen anyway. And I never said I wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Right, right.¡± Albert muttered. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°And stop saying sorry.¡± Graham growled. ¡°I¡¯m not going to keep correcting you if you keep acting your age. You need to kick it up in the maturity department fast, kid. I¡¯m not going to play the role of your old man, either. I¡¯m just telling you what you need to know to survive, and I¡¯m only going to tell you once. That¡¯s my burden of care here. If you decide not to listen, then I¡¯m not at fault and you can die with my conscience clear.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Chill.¡± Albert growled. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to act like my dad. I¡¯m not a child.¡±


    Graham sighed at the retort before dismissing the whole line of conversation. ¡°I wish you were right, kid. Things¡¯d be less tragic that way.¡±


    Albert didn¡¯t know how to respond to that. And he didn¡¯t want to linger on it either. He knew he¡¯d gotten himself into something he really didn¡¯t want to be a part of, but he didn¡¯t have a choice. The tragedy was that Death was after him no matter what¡ªthat he was doomed for just existing.


    That thought lingered in Albert¡¯s mind for the remainder of their walk. It was so all consuming that Albert didn¡¯t fully realize when they¡¯d come to a stop. He didn¡¯t even process what Graham was saying when he started talking again. He just slowly zoned back into the world around him.


    ¡°¡ªit doesn¡¯t look too secure, but it¡¯s definitely a contracting den.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Albert asked as the world came back into focus around him.


    ¡°The psychic shop, it¡¯s a contracting den.¡± Graham repeated. ¡°Same signature giveaways as the McClellan¡¯s pub.¡±


    Albert eyed the store across the street from him, taking it in for the first time.


    Madame Offry¡¯s shop was a standard brick building conjoined at the sides to the other older buildings on the strip. It was, however, the only store with a scattering of gray bricks among the red ones that otherwise dominated the construction on that side of the street. Unlike the pub, however, there was an address painted on the front of the building that matched the numbering of those around it. From the street, that was about all that Albert could see. The large shop window in the front revealed a display of ephemera that one would expect from a store that professed to help with spiritual ailments¡ªcrystals, potions, and occult tools of varying appearance¡ªbut the interior of the store beyond the display was obscured with black curtains. The front door, while mostly glass, was also obscured by similar curtains that prevented either Graham or Albert from seeing inside.


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    ¡°I feel like it¡¯s been here longer than the pub.¡± Albert muttered.


    ¡°The address makes me think the same thing.¡± Graham mumbled in agreement as he craned his head to get a different perspective. ¡°But I think it may actually be about as dangerous.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that? Didn¡¯t the McClellans say that the contractor is just helping the living communicate with the dead?¡±


    ¡°They also said they helped people look the way they wanted.¡± Graham snorted. ¡°Which about as much of a bald faced lie as you can get. They¡¯re the contracting equivalent of a dealer at a gym. They basically sell soul steroids.¡±


    ¡°They might have been telling the truth about this contractor though.¡± Albert carried on like Graham hadn¡¯t actually basically proven his point.


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as an altruistic contractor. They all serve their own interests, and they all take advantage of the people they claim to help.¡±


    That much had already been pretty obvious, and Albert wasn¡¯t about to argue. He only had a small sample size to base his reasoning on, but it was a very consistent result. Everyone in this hidden world of contracts and souls seemed to act nearly identically to their counterparts.


    Albert let out a brief sigh before giving his final lament. ¡°It¡¯s just that this place looks so normal. And I want it to be normal. I want to hope that it¡¯s a level headed and reasonable contractor that we can just talk to and leave.¡±


    ¡°Kid, the only hope you need to worry about is your boss. And I¡¯m pretty sure she doesn¡¯t keep you around for your optimism.¡±


    The comment made Albert narrow his eyes at the collector. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, I¡¯ve been around her long enough to know the boss has a type.¡±


    ¡°Death¡¯s the reason I¡¯m in this mess. Not Hope.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh. And you didn¡¯t see Hope at all before her daddy handed you your nice cushy arbitration job?¡±


    The insinuation made Albert pause. She had talked to her father about him, Death had let slip as much. And she¡¯d given him a glowing review, or so Death had said. Was it really possible that he was still alive because Hope had put a good word in for him?


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that silence as a confirmation that nepotism is real.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not¡ª¡± Albert protested but Graham gave him a light tap on the cheek to shut him up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think about it too hard kid. It¡¯s all nepotism when it comes to family members pulling strings.¡±


    There was a moment of awkward silence as Albert trawled his memories for any other indication that Hope had interceded on his behalf. All the while Graham seemed intent on looking at the storefront from as many angles as possible. By the time that Albert had regained confidence that he¡¯d managed to do just fine without Hope¡¯s influence, Graham began to walk down the street towards the nearest crosswalk. But when Albert started to follow, the collector stopped him.


    ¡°No, stay here. By that newspaper box actually, that¡¯ll keep you mostly hidden. I¡¯m going to check around back and I don¡¯t want to have to worry about you if I need to make a quick exit.¡±


    ¡°If you need to escape, how are you going to get back to here?¡±


    ¡°Your quill can take you to me. Mine can take me to you. Like it or not, we¡¯re on the same designated work team and that means we get a little extra access to each other.¡±


    The thought hadn¡¯t crossed Albert¡¯s mind, but it made sense. Of course there¡¯d be a way for Graham to get to him if the situation called for it. It made complete sense. But it also made Albert all the more uncomfortable. It meant that Graham could potentially pop in on him while he was at home. And that was the last thing that Albert wanted to happen. Even with the order in his file restricting who could visit his home, there was still a chance that Graham would escape to Albert¡¯s location at any time.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t do anything else until you come back and let me know what you see, okay?¡± Albert tried to order to collector, but his attitude still wasn¡¯t right. He was a far ways off from sounding like the kind of person that could take charge.


    ¡°Sure thin, kid.¡± Graham answered dismissively. He was already walking again.


    Albert watched the man cross the street and make it around to the end of the block closest to the end that Madame Offry¡¯s shop was on. He couldn¡¯t see much after that. The collector was out of sight and the only company Albert was left with was the silent presence of Pincushion.


    ¡°You¡¯d think these glasses would give me a headache after wearing them so long.¡± Albert muttered to the cat spirit. ¡°But I know the second I take them off you¡¯re going to do something.¡±


    Pincushion meowed in response but didn¡¯t move otherwise. She just maintained her idle stare at the boy she had chosen to follow for what he could only imagine was a completely arbitrary reason. Albert was about to talk back to the cat, out a mix of boredom and anxiety, when he caught sight of Graham again.


    The collector was leaning around the corner of the building at the end of the street and waving for Albert to come around to where he was.


    ¡°How about you go on ahead of me and let me know if the coast is really clear?¡± Albert muttered to the as he started to walk in the same direction Graham had.


    There had been no expectation that the cat would obey the command, and Albert hadn¡¯t fully intended it to. But the spirit trotted ahead of him as requested, though it stopped for Albert at the crosswalk before taking the lead again. It was yet another piece of evidence that the cat could really hear him and understand what he was saying. And while that was an unsettling prospect, it was fascinating to think about. It might have even been possible that it would do other tasks upon request, but Albert wasn¡¯t going to push his luck.


    ¡°Did you tell it to do that?¡± Graham asked as Albert came close, indicating the strange behavior of the cat as it trotted ahead and peered down the alleyway behind the stretch of buildings that lined the street.


    ¡°I think so.¡± Albert answered, though his answer paled in importance after he too peered around the corner after Pincushion. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Weird, right?¡± Graham said calmly, more calmly than Albert was called for.


    ¡°There¡¯s got to be at least twenty¡ªhow?¡±


    Behind the stores, along the full length of the back alleyway, clogging nearly every inch of space and sometimes overlapping, was a procession of human spirits. Their auras were all slightly different, but they they all had enough vibrancy to have a clear presence. It was almost overwhelming for Albert, as the glasses did little to shield his eyes from the chaos he now saw or the strange ethereal light that the spirits shed.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing they all know they¡¯re dead somehow and that the contractor here can help them contact their loved ones.¡±


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t this sort of thing happen to Death?¡± Albert stammered, baffled by the sheer volume of spirits. He¡¯d had to spend days searching for two that were willing to make a deal that could have well involved what the medium was doing here.


    ¡°It probably did at one point. But Death doesn¡¯t exactly advertise anymore. He¡¯s an opportunist and he doesn¡¯t like to stay in one place for very long. This looks like an institution.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Albert said with a low whistle.


    The sound attracted the attention of one of the spirits near the end of the alleyway, but upon seeing Albert and Graham it turned its attention back in the direction of the back door to Madame Offry¡¯s. Clearly it didn¡¯t have any interest in an alternative method of doing whatever it had come here to accomplish. If it realized that Albert could see it, it wasn¡¯t showing it either.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re exactly at a loss for souls.¡± Graham said, his tone a mirror of Albert¡¯s. ¡°And that makes me nervous. If this contractor wants us gone, they can make us leave. They very likely have the means.¡±


    ¡°What about if we just go in honest and ask to talk?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably our only option, honestly. Any kind of lie will probably come off as a threat and it¡¯ll all be down hill from there.¡± Graham said as he gave a nod to head back around to the front of the shop. ¡°I think you¡¯ve picked up how fickle some contractors can be.¡±


    ¡°Fickle?¡± Albert furrowed his brow as he tried to place the word.


    ¡°Wishy washy.¡± Graham clarified. ¡°Say the wrong thing, move the wrong way, wear the wrong clothes, and bam. You¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m dead.¡± Albert said with a roll of his eyes. ¡°You¡¯d probably be just fine.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why I think I should go in alone again.¡± Graham said with a mildly condescending nod. ¡°Don¡¯t want you risking your precious life just talking to some old toad.¡±


    ¡°By all means. Get in there and woo the toad, old man.¡± Albert cackled as he followed Graham to the front door of Madame Offry¡¯s.


    Graham chuckled at the joke but there was a small sigh at the tail of his laughter. ¡°I sure hope that¡¯s not how this goes.¡±

 Chapter Thirty: Madame Offry

    As Graham pushed his way through the door to the psychic store, Albert could smell a strong aromatic incense wafting out through the opening. With the dark lighting of the interior, however, that was the only thing he could sense. The door shut quickly and loudly behind Graham, leaving Albert alone on the street once again.


    ¡°Maybe, once he comes back out, you should wait here.¡± Albert mumbled as he looked down to the cat spirit sitting at his feet. ¡°You¡¯re pretty good at slipping past people¡¯s attention, but I don¡¯t want to risk this going poorly.¡±


    Pincushion tilted her head to the side, seemingly understanding Albert¡¯s request. But he wasn¡¯t entirely sure. Her previous following of instruction could have just been a fluke. Stranger things than Albert incidentally asking an animal to do the thing it was going to do on its own anyway had already happened. Albert would have made a list if he¡¯d thought to compile all of the strange things that had occurred since he¡¯d died¡ªand he probably would have organized them by the degree of strangeness. But such an effort had not been undertaken, as the thought had never occurred to him and the vast number of strange incidences had quickly become too many to count.


    ¡°You can follow me again when I leave. If you want.¡± Albert added on as he knelt down to get on the cat¡¯s level.


    It was the closest he¡¯d intentionally gotten to the animal spirit, and it seemed to make her happy. Pincushion purred and rubbed her whiskered face against Albert¡¯s outstretched hand. It was profoundly calming, almost unnervingly so. For a moment, Albert wondered if the purring had caused a hypnotic effect, or if the cat itself had some kind of ability which could dull his senses. But somewhere amid offering to scratch the animal spirit¡¯s ears and chin, an alternative explanation arose in Albert¡¯s mind. A far more reasonable one.


    There was no more sensible explanation for Pincushion¡¯s behavior than that she was an intelligent creature with simple desires. And if her simple desires were to receive affection and purpose from someone that could see her, she had certainly done that. And, while it felt egotistical, Albert considered it the cat¡¯s opinion that her purpose was to help him. It was a stretch, but at the same time the simplest solution. If Pincushion had a mind of her own, and Albert was the first person with any kind of spiritual sight or presence that she¡¯d encountered, why wouldn¡¯t she stick to him? He hadn¡¯t kicked her, hadn¡¯t told her to leave, hadn¡¯t done anything bad to her at all. If anything, if the cat was following him by sticking close when he used his quill¡ªwhich was his guess up to that point as to how she¡¯d followed him¡ªAlbert could see how the cat might interpret the travel as being taken on an adventure as a reward of sorts. He¡¯d never heard of cats in particular being adventurous animals, dogs maybe, but she wasn¡¯t just a cat anymore. It almost felt like she was a child, and she seemed to have that same kind of wide eyed and wondrous look that some small children sometimes do when they get to see things they had never imagined before.


    ¡°Atta girl.¡± Albert whispered to the cat through her loud purring.


    Minutes passed like that, with Pincushion gladly accepting the affection that Albert offered. And, in turn Albert felt the relaxation of another creature¡¯s trust and acceptance. It was the calmest state of mind he¡¯d experienced in what felt like weeks. Albert quickly realized that the incredibly simple desires of the cat, combined with it¡¯s separation from any other supernatural being, made it the most trustworthy being he had encountered and could be fully honest with.


    After an uncertain amount of time¡ªAlbert had stopped paying attention to the storefront while he had relaxed¡ªGraham swung the door to the psychic shop open again.


    ¡°She¡¯s willing to talk.¡± The collector said quickly. ¡°But I don¡¯t like our odds. She seems off her rocker.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Graham waited until the door had fully swung shut and settled behind him before carrying on. ¡°I mean, I think she¡¯s got a screw loose and she¡¯s acting like she¡¯s really psychic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not that bad¡­ right?¡± Albert asked, the concern on Graham¡¯s face causing concern of his own.


    The muscles in Albert¡¯s shoulders tightened instinctively at the stress he was being delivered. The tension came as a surprise, as Albert hadn¡¯t realized just how relaxed he¡¯d become while he¡¯d been waiting or even how tense he¡¯d been before.


    ¡°If this Madame Offry is as nuts as I think she is, she might be a very old contractor. Old enough to have lost her mind.¡±


    ¡°Is that a normal thing for contractors to do when they get old?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not unheard of. A lot of older contractors stop working altogether after a while because they lose touch with how people actually behave. The ones that don¡¯t retire after that tend to go a little nuts.¡±


    ¡°We should be brief then.¡± Albert announced as he began to formulate a simple conversational approach. ¡°What did you tell her?¡±


    For once, Graham looked at Albert with a degree of approval; as though Albert had just proven that he could do the work he¡¯d agreed to with some degree of competence. ¡°Not much. I said I was a collector working for a contractor from out of town, and that I had an arbitrator with me waiting outside. I made it clear we were not beneficiaries of the McClellans, but that they had asked us to act as a channel of communication.¡±


    ¡°Alright. That sounds truthful.¡± Albert muttered. ¡°We are technically under contract, but since the contract is void if we¡¯re in danger and there aren¡¯t any direct repercussions for not completing our end of the deal we should be fine saying that we really are a neutral third party.¡±


    ¡°The contract says as much too.¡± Graham added. ¡°We¡¯re only associating with them on the basis of being an independent third party.¡±


    ¡°They had us enter that contract under duress though, so we aren¡¯t strictly neutral.¡± Albert countered. ¡°There¡¯s a seed of doubt about whether or not they¡¯ll actually enact retribution if we cant get them what they want.¡±


    The collector¡¯s brows narrowed as he gave Albert a look of confusion, but also there was a hint of pride at the insinuation. ¡°I don¡¯t think that matters.¡±


    ¡°It matters to me,¡± Albert said with a shake of his head as he tried to explain. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if we¡¯re being contractually honest if it doesn¡¯t feel completely honest. If they really are on the edge, then they¡¯re going to be paying attention more to the way we behave instead of how we thread the needle of our obligations. They haven¡¯t seen the contract we¡¯re under, so our following it doesn¡¯t matter to them.¡±


    ¡°That does make sense.¡± Graham mumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll let you do the talking then. Maybe you¡¯ll get lucky and Madame Offry is the kind of person you can deal with.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    The idea of relying on luck wasn¡¯t thrilling. Albert knew that there was only so much he could really do before he decided on a course of action that luck couldn¡¯t get him out of. That had been his experience playing chess with Amy. It seemed the harder he tried to reach a specific goal, the less his luck aided him.


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll have some luck. But if talking to her is a bad idea in general, my luck isn¡¯t going to do anything.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± Graham patted Albert on the shoulder and stepped back towards the shop door. ¡°Keep your quill in your hand, though. No telling when we¡¯ll need to bolt.¡±


    At the collector¡¯s prompting Albert immediately moved his quill from his backpack to his pants pocket and left his hand half in the pocket to both conceal the exposed feather and keep it close so that he could use it to leave if need be.


    By the time his quill was set, Graham was already halfway in the shop¡¯s front doors. Albert had no choice but to follow at that point. No real choice at least. If he¡¯d left then and there things wouldn¡¯t have gone over well. He would have the fear of the McClellan¡¯s in his mind, on top of the fear of what Graham and Death would do to him for bailing on legitimate work. Even if negotiating some kind of peace didn¡¯t benefit Death at all, Albert thought that there was a good chance the information about who was doing what kind of contracting in the area would be useful. It didn¡¯t matter if Death didn¡¯t do anything with the information, he¡¯d probably be grateful if Albert gave it to him and upset if he learned that it was information he could have had but Albert didn¡¯t manage to get.


    All of the stresses of his situation followed Albert into Madame Offry¡¯s shop, weighing on him and distracting him from most of his surroundings. The only thing that didn¡¯t follow Albert was Pincushion, though the cat spirit meowed faintly¡ªalmost sadly¡ªas it stood vigilant by the front door.


    If Albert had been paying better attention to his surroundings he might have seen some of the hints that would have otherwise turned him away. The lack of visible scent making substances, like incense or candles, might have been a good giveaway that something was off. But Albert only smelled the pungent aroma of lavender, sage, and wisteria. The smell seemed to dull Graham¡¯s alertness as well, a sign Albert should have noticed as the collectors tense posture had stood out to him more than once. But now they were both relaxed and their sense of caution had been diminished by Graham¡¯s first successful foray into the den.


    The biggest giveaway that something was wrong was the lack of sales material. There were tables and shelves lined with merchandise, mostly trinkets and items that looked more occult than they really were, but there was no sign of a place to pay or any indication of price. Moreover, there was no sign of the proprietor. Only the faint sound of a woman humming behind a bead curtain at the back of the main storeroom.


    ¡°Pardon me, Madame Offry¡ªI hope I¡¯m pronouncing that right¡­¡± Albert began as he approached the curtain with Graham a step behind him and to the side.


    Albert made out the faint outline of a woman sitting at a table behind the curtain, along with some hint at her attire. The cream colored lace and bedazzled outfit certainly matched the stereotype of a medium from old TV shows and movies. The drape over her face though, further obscured the woman from Albert¡¯s eyes. And that was all he ever saw of her.


    ---


    The last memory Albert had before waking up was drawing back the curtain with his hand and stepping into the back room of Madame Offry¡¯s. His vision, or rather, the memory of his vision, went blank after that.


    When Albert awoke, he found himself laying on his bed. The clock on his nightstand read 6:12 pm. The world outside his window seemed to match.


    At first, Albert couldn¡¯t discern the significance of what had happened. The events he had experienced just before his memory went blank seemed like a lucid dream. And they were absurd enough to be one. Everything that had happened from the moment he had gone to Death¡¯s office to the end of his memory were completely outside the realm of possibility. Teleportation, spectral cats, a pub run by two soul dealing contractors that had challenged him to a dare game, playing five finger fillet with a man he hardly knew, visiting a psychic¡¯s store in the same town. It was ridiculous. No matter how he looked at it, there was no way any of it had been real. And everything before it as well, there was no way it had been real either.


    Albert couldn¡¯t believe he had been so stupid as to believe that he could have been killed and then come back from the dead. He couldn¡¯t believe that he¡¯d thought he¡¯d seen ghosts or spirits, or anything else.


    But as he sat there, on the edge of his bed. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it had been far to vivid to be a dream.


    With a groan, Albert made his way out to the living room. He had expected his mother to be there on the couch like she normally was when he got home from school, but she was gone. He hadn¡¯t just gotten back from school though, so of course she was gone. She was at work. He must have gotten back home while she was taking a nap and the fallen asleep and missed her entirely. It had happened before.


    Albert wandered aimlessly around the apartment until he remembered that he still had homework that he needed to do. There was a math quiz page due tomorrow and there¡¯d probably be a pop quiz in his history class on the reading section from the start of the week. They seemed far more important that he seemed to remember them being. For some reason, when he¡¯d been given the homework, it hadn¡¯t felt urgent at all. In fact, he hardly remembered getting the assignments in the first place.


    For some reason, when Albert went back to his bedroom to get the work from his backpack, he hesitated. His backpack was where he¡¯d stored his arbitration gear. The quill, the phone, the documents, all of it. When he finally managed to work up the nerve to look inside the bag, its only contents were notebooks and textbooks and folders of loose papers. It was just school supplies.


    Once again, Albert felt incredibly foolish. There was no way any of those things could have been in his bag to begin with. None of that had happened. It had just been a dream. His mother couldn¡¯t afford a cellphone for herself, let alone him, and there was no way someone would just hand him one for free. And the rest of the supplies and documents, they had figment of his foolish imagination. Magic wasn¡¯t real, contractors weren¡¯t real, collectors weren¡¯t real, and soul arbitration wasn¡¯t something that could possibly exist without magic. And magic definitely wasn¡¯t real.


    The daze persisted as Albert went about completing his homework. It wasn¡¯t distracting really, it just felt like he¡¯d down a cup of cold medicine and then passed out for a few hours. But the aftermath, the daze, wasn¡¯t painful, mostly numbing. He could still think straight, at least when it came to homework. But everything else, any desire to think back on the daydreams of the past week or so, resulted in staring into space for minutes on end. The distractions were tedious, and so Albert quickly resolved to focus only on school work.


    By the time that Albert was nearly done with all his assignments, he had gotten tired and was primed to eat something quick and go to bed. He just had one assignment left. It was for his first period class, and Albert didn¡¯t really get why he hadn¡¯t done it first, but sometimes there was just a natural rhythm to homework. When Albert flipped through the notebook he kept for the class, however, he didn¡¯t find the notes he was looking for. Instead he found something scrawled across the page in his own handwriting, though he couldn¡¯t remember writing it down at all. At least, not clearly. And as he read the first line of messy handwriting, memories began to return.


    1a) what is spiritual property.


    Spiritual property is something that you possess which is tied to your soul, not your living body.


    1b) what spiritual property do I have?


    Amy can''t say for certain, but Death probably wants it pretty bad.


    1c) what does Death want with my spiritual property?


    No clue. Probably just wants it for vanity.


    2) What happens to a spirit when it dissipates?


    No clue. There''s no way to tell.


    3) What does Death do with the souls he collects?


    He uses them like batteries. Maybe he eats them?


    4) Are there other beings out there like Death?


    Not going to bother with that one. The answer is probably yes, and a lot.


    5a) Why does my body react to successful arbitration the way it does?


    I''m doing what Death does, so maybe I''m becoming like him?


    5b) Is that normal and/or safe?


    I''m afraid to ask, because I''m sure the answer is no.


    Below that, in a different colored ink, was a different bit of text. It was still Albert''s handwriting, but it didn''t make as much sense. The way the letters were formed looked odd too, like the pen was weirdly shaped. It simply said: Pincushion.

 Chapter Thirty-One: Remember

    The daze lifted, but only momentarily. Albert felt his mind resettle itself, like he had just woken up all over again. The memories of the days prior didn¡¯t flood back in, as people are want to say about recovering lost memories. Rather, they bubbled up from a murky depth; scattered, volatile, and unclear. Most of the memories were out of order, though in that moment Albert had no idea what the proper order actually was. He¡¯d had them on the forefront of his mind just minutes ago, but now even the memories he had that felt like a dream were jumbled.


    In confusion, Albert began to pace the length of the apartment.


    ¡°Come on. What happened first? What¡¯d I do first?¡± Albert growled at himself as he tapped against his forehead with more force than he meant to.


    ¡°Was it the dinner?¡± Albert flashed back to the night he¡¯d stopped by Death¡¯s office. He couldn¡¯t remember why he¡¯d gone there, or how he¡¯d gotten there, but he¡¯d had dinner with someone. Hope. He¡¯d had dinner with Hope. She was Death¡¯s daughter. She¡¯d gotten him the job with Death and they were celebrating, but he¡¯d been a bad guest and she had been upset. But that wasn¡¯t the first thing. It couldn¡¯t have been.


    ¡°I met you¡­ I met you somewhere else first.¡±


    There were other memories swimming in his head as he clapped his hands harder against his forehead. He¡¯d met Hope a few times. Sometimes in her office, sometimes in Death¡¯s office. But there was a memory of somewhere else. A park. He¡¯d played chess with Hope at the park after leaving school. He¡¯d talked to her about something. He couldn¡¯t remember what, but he¡¯d been rude again, but she¡¯d been understanding. Polite even. But why had he gone to park in the first place? Why¡¯d he left the school?


    ¡°I¡¯d followed someone¡­ A new girl?¡±


    There had been a new girl in his classes, all of them. She¡¯d just showed up one day and had given him weird looks the whole time. But when he went to confront her she¡¯d made her way off campus and he¡¯d followed her to the park The park where he¡¯d played chess with Hope. Amy. Her name was Amy. Hope hated her, but Albert couldn¡¯t think of a reason why or how he felt about her. He barely even remembered her name. But she¡¯d been unnerving. And Hope had done something about her, made her leave.


    ¡°And it was all real, right? Death writes contracts to trade people¡¯s souls and property. So does Hope, I guess. And Amy¡­ is a part of it? And I was working for them all.¡± Albert stopped pacing, that had to be it. Nothing else in the scattering of memories made sense. ¡°But then something went wrong. I went to the McClellan¡¯s, then to Madame Offry, and then Death had me hunted down and killed. But I¡¯m okay now?¡±


    Once that timeline settled a further resurgence of memories flooded Albert¡¯s mind. The contract he¡¯d signed with Death, the offer to work with him, the souls he¡¯d contracted in arbitration. Markus, then Arnie, then the nurse. Three souls. A steep price. But it had been paid. And Albert needed to go back. He needed to go back and prove that he hadn¡¯t betrayed Death. He needed to hand back the souls he¡¯d collected. He could feel his eyesight blurring as he thought about it. He felt the strain on his body as the weight of the souls he carried from arbitration fought against his being. His vision began to tinge blue, and cracks like glass began to spread through everything around him like he was looking through a broken lens.


    ¡°I need to get to Death¡¯s office.¡± Albert muttered to himself as he struggle to hold on to the kitchen counter to keep himself upright as he felt his body break down even more.


    ¡°He can fix this.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t trust him though. He put a hit out on me.¡±


    ¡°But Hope¡­¡± His mumbling conversation with himself trailed off as he lurched towards the door to the apartment.


    It wasn¡¯t like it had been before, when he¡¯d been unable to lock or unlock the door due to the injuries he¡¯d sustained from dying before, but it was difficult to balance himself on the way out. The shift in his vision was giving him motion sickness, but it was more than that too. There was an odd sensation that was scrambling the way he was attempting to move. It was as if his body, independent of his own will, did not want to leave the apartment. And every step down the stairs, consequently, became treacherous. But, after roughly a half hour¡ªwhich felt much longer than a half hour, as the steps to the street normally only took a minute to traverse¡ªAlbert found himself standing outside.


    Albert¡¯s first instinct was, of course, to puke. There was a convenient little gutter sort of underpass stairwell to the side of the main entryway to the apartment building, usually used to store smaller trashcans for pickup but also marked the entrance to the boiler room beneath the building, which Albert let loose his wretched cargo over. Looking down to the dumpsters below him, Albert vaguely remembered Death tossing his body into that very spot and then somehow appearing in front of him again before Albert could escape. The memory felt far more recent than it actually was, but the confusion that had taken root in Albert¡¯s mind fit it somewhere into his broken timeline of events within the last two days.


    There wasn¡¯t a clear way to get to Death¡¯s office, and hopefully to Hope herself, but Albert ambled down the side of the street anyway. He kept his hand and the majority of his balance against any walls or fences that he could so that he wouldn¡¯t tumble into the road. Without realizing it, Albert found he had spent nearly another whole half hour wandering before he found himself at the mouth of the alleyway where his dead body had once been stashed.


    ¡°The blood¡¯s still here.¡± Albert whispered to himself. ¡°And this is where I came back to when I bartered for my soul for the first time. I jumped back into my body.¡±


    Unbeknownst to Albert, his whispers had attracted the attention of a creature he had no memory of and had no method of seeing. The spirit of a cat had laid patiently in wait over the bloodstain on the concrete, and when Albert had returned it had become alert again as if reactivated by some accidental magic. The cat, which retained it¡¯s collar with the tag that identified it as Pincushion, looked expectantly at Albert. It waited for some time as the boy muttered to himself and contemplated the best way to get to the office and why he had wandered to the alleyway in the first place, which Pincushion thought was strange. She waited and waited, and thought to herself that the boy really was lucky. He¡¯d made it through so much unscathed, and even now, as he fought against his own mind, he had brought himself unwittingly to the place where she had been laying in wait.


    And, by another stroke of luck, Albert¡¯s mumbling stumbled upon an exact combination of words that solved all of his problems. Those words were, ¡°take me to the office¡­¡± And while he had said them absently to the bloodstain on the ground, as if personifying the remnant of his own demise and demanding it solve his problems for him, his command was also unwittingly directed at the cat spirit sitting on top of it. And, at the command, Pincushion obliged.


    Albert felt nothing as the cat spirit brushed up against his leg, as he had no method of discerning spirits and no memory of being able to do so. There was a logical, or perhaps illogical, gap in his memories regarding the matter of observing the spirits of half dead beings. He knew that he had conducted arbitration with three human spirits, and that there had been a special trick to doing so, but he couldn¡¯t recall what it was or how he¡¯d done it. This being the case, Albert had no way of identifying Pincushion or understanding why the cat was doing exactly what he had asked of it. To Albert, it was as if he had unleashed a snap demand at a stain on the ground and it had done as he had bidden it. And while that understanding verged on lunacy, even considering all that Albert had already witnessed, it was the only explanation Albert had.


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    So it was that the cat spirit teleported Albert to Death¡¯s office and the boy stood there aghast at what had occurred.


    Albert now stood in a place that felt familiar to him, though he could not place exactly why it was familiar. It was a back alleyway behind a small brick building and a chain link fence.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Albert whispered to himself. ¡°Maybe I am actually dreaming.¡±


    Albert pinched his shoulder to see if it would wake him up, but not only did he remain where he was but it also hurt far worse than he had anticipated. It felt like he¡¯d just had a shot to the arm, and he could feel that there was a memory scratching at the surface of his conscious mind that would explain everything. Unlike other memories, however, the memory of traveling by quill and the cost of doing so was trapped beneath the surface. Several key categories of memory had been trapped this way, intentionally buried and sealed away by means that could not easily be undone. It seemed that some less consequential memories had not been so thoroughly dealt with, though perhaps that was due to their importance in maintaining Albert¡¯s sanity to the degree that he was meant to have a functional sanity in the wake of the events that had left him mentally debilitated.


    And perhaps that is just the way some interactions are. There are people capable of looking into the eyes of a mostly healthy and mostly functional person and, with only a few words and maybe a careful facial expression, tear their functionality asunder. Whether it be through anxiety, depression, guilt, or fear; everyone has a magic bullet forged just to destroy them that can only be fired by a specific person or type of person. And when that bullet is lodged in the brain, anything could be forgotten.


    None of these thoughts crossed Albert¡¯s scrambled mind as he carefully and nervously skirted around the outside of Death¡¯s office. There were no cars parked out front, and no one stood guard by the front door. Albert didn¡¯t think to take note of these factors. It was quiet, which didn¡¯t send up a warning signal like it should have. And there was no sign of movement behind the barred and blinded windows.


    At first Albert was tempted to knock before entering, but that felt silly. He worked there, even if there was some dispute about his place. It wasn¡¯t a private residence either, so knocking at the front door would be strange. But it felt just as strange to walk in uninvited. But Albert¡¯s physical condition seemed to be worsening by the minute. His vision was slowly being engulfed in cracks and fading to white, his body felt like he was on a boat and he had to shift his weight from side to side constantly to stay on his feet. And there was a strange stretching sensation, like his body was being pulled apart from the inside and outside simultaneously. It wasn¡¯t a state of he felt like he could endure for much longer before passing out. As it was, he felt lucky to be standing after enduring it for so long.


    Still hesitant, Albert pulled open the door to the office. He was surprised to see that there was no one seated at any of the desks visible from the front entrance, and retroactively that the door was open if no one was present. The assumption that no one was in the office, however, was quickly shown to be incorrect. Albert heard someone or something talking quietly to themselves from one of the rooms in the back. Despite his disorientation and deteriorating physical state, Albert honed in on the source quickly. Partly because of the talking, but also because of a second sound¡ªof a closing filing cabinet¡ªwhich brought his attention to a storage room off to one side of the main entryway. It felt familiar, and after a moment of thought Albert concluded that he had been there before but could not identify why.


    Without thinking about the potential ramifications of stumbling in on someone in the middle of something important, Albert called out to whoever or whatever it was.


    ¡°Hello? Who¡¯s back there?¡±


    There was silence in the wake of Albert¡¯s question, as whoever was in the other room suddenly stopped.


    ¡°Who¡¯s out there? Employees aren¡¯t supposed to be¡­¡±


    Midway through asking her question, Hope stuck her head out from around the side of the doorway. And as soon as she spotted Albert, she stopped abruptly.


    ¡°Albert?!¡± Hope was only frozen in place for a moment by the shock of seeing the boy. ¡°What the hell?! You¡¯re alive?¡±


    ¡°Barely.¡± Albert wheezed as the shifting and straining sensation that was running amok on his body nearly sent him toppling over onto one of the desks next to him.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Hope, totally flabbergasted, asked as she bolted from the storage room to Albert¡¯s side.


    Had Albert retained all of his memories in that moment Hope¡¯s response to seeing him might have made even less sense. Her apparently caring demeanor would have frightened him, her closeness would have made him step away, her touch would have sent chills down his spine. But he was eager for her presence now. She was his salvation.


    ¡°Please, help me. I have souls¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ my eyes¡­¡± Albert began to sob, the pain and disorientation had finally peaked. The pressure on his bod sent him reeling to his knees.


    ¡°How? How can I help?¡± Hope had knelt down next to him just as quickly.


    If he could have seen her face anymore, he would have felt safer. But his vision had finally clouded over completely. Had it not, he would have seen that her worry and fear at his deterioration were powerful and genuine, and that it brought out a side she had not shown to anyone in nearly as long as she had been alive. The side that cared and wanted to help.


    ¡°Contract me. Take them away.¡± Albert managed to wheeze between gasping breaths that were quickly becoming more hysterical.


    ¡°How many souls?¡± Hope had stood up and Albert could hear her rummaging on the desk next to them for a pen and paper. ¡°How many do you need me to take?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Three I think. I gathered three for your father.¡± With salvation in sight, though not literally, Albert managed to gasp out his final instruction before he began to retch and heave from the disorientation.


    Albert didn¡¯t hear the furious scribbling of pen on paper as Hope raced against the edges of Albert¡¯s consciousness to draft something serviceable. And without time to come up with something more proper or thought out, Hope settled on the following arrangement:


    I, the contractee to sign below, do hereby transfer possession of all souls under my ownership¡ªsave my own mortal soul¡ªto the ownership of Hope, the writer and contractor of this agreement.


    It wasn¡¯t pretty, as her normally extremely neat and tidy handwriting had been rushed, but it was good enough.


    ¡°Can you write your name?¡± Hope asked frantically as she knelt back down and attempted to stuff the quill she had used into Albert¡¯s hand.


    Albert could feel the quill in his grip, and the paper underneath his other hand as Hope slid it into place, but the realization that he couldn¡¯t see well enough to write anything legibly stunned him into inactivity. It felt too late, but when he didn¡¯t respond¡ªthough he couldn¡¯t have, even if he wanted, as his throat had begun to swell shut from the trauma of throwing up so violently¡ªHope ripped the quill back out of Albert¡¯s hand. Almost just as quickly, Albert felt Hope¡¯s gentle and soft hands grip his own and peel his thumb free of the quickly tightening fist he was making as his whole body began to tense in stress. Albert didn¡¯t feel the nib of the quill slice across the side of the thumb, as he was quickly becoming unaware of the sensation of Hope¡¯s touch. But he could still hear, and that was enough.


    ¡°Albert, if you can hear me, and you assent, my actions as I guide your signature will become binding. If you do not assent, I accept that your denial nullifies this contract. Your willful agreement, rooted in your soul, validates this.¡± Hope spoke the words, with enunciation that reminded Albert of students reciting the pledge of allegiance in school, and thrust his thumb down to the sheet of paper.


    And as the bloody thumbprint stained the page, Albert began to feel it. To feel everything that had begun to fade. The cut, the page, Hope¡¯s hands around his, and finally, understanding.


    But, overpowering all other sensations that flooded his mind, Albert felt regret.

 Chapter Thirty-Two: Wretched Creature

    Regret is not a strong enough word to describe the lamentation running through Albert mind as thoughts rattled through his awareness like a stream of text on a digital ticker tape in a run down stock brokers office. Misery might have been a better word. It was misery that kept Albert still as his mind slowly put the pieces back together.


    He¡¯d walked to school one day, been identified by one of Death¡¯s associates as someone who had spiritual property, and been killed. He¡¯d negotiated with Death, arranged to trade two souls for his own, and done it. He¡¯d had Amy¡¯s help. And the whole time, Hope had been working on his case from the shadows as Amy¡¯s boss. She¡¯d tortured Amy, the only person that had even gotten close to really helping him, and she¡¯d toyed with Albert as well. She¡¯d made it simple for him to get his position with Death¡¯s business, she¡¯d tried to wine and dine him, and she¡¯d set him up to work with Graham on the first and last job he¡¯d been on. Graham had taken him to scout out a new location for Death¡¯s business, but it had already been occupied. They¡¯d been hired to negotiate a truce between two clashing factions of contractors, but the second faction¡­


    Albert remembered everything in its proper order up to the moment he had walked through Madame Offry¡¯s door. But from that moment to the moment he woke up dazed and confused it was like staring through a heavy blizzard. He remembered the smell of incense, the sound of Graham talking, the rustling of a bead curtain, and a woman¡¯s voice. It had been distant, in another room, and there had been a veil of what was clearly a fake accent to fit the stereotype of a fortune teller. But there was no visual memory. Albert couldn¡¯t remember how anything felt, and the further into the memory of the meeting with Madame Offry that Albert tried to recall the more obscured the details became.


    ¡°How many souls did you take?¡± Albert asked. It was the only thing he could bear to ask of Hope.


    ¡°More than three.¡± Hope muttered, confused. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and worry. ¡°Do you even know what happened?¡±


    ¡°Some of it¡­ I think.¡± Albert held his hand to his head as he forced himself to recall the events in more detail. ¡°I went out with Graham, like you asked, and we were scouting out the area. But there were already two contractors¡­ well, maybe three actually. There were two factions of contractors there. The McClellan¡¯s, the first faction we met, let us go on the condition that we tried to negotiate with their neighbors. But the other contractor was just¡­ too much.¡±


    ¡°Albert¡­¡± Hope started, but paused as she bit her lip in contemplation. It was as if she was trying to decide whether or not to say something. And when she finally decided what to say, it was horrific. ¡°That was three days ago. You¡¯ve been missing that whole time.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I just ended up back home. I don¡¯t know what Madame Offry did to me, but I just woke up back home. That was maybe¡­ a little over two hours ago?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve had Amy watching your apartment, but she hasn¡¯t reported back saying she¡¯s seen you.¡± Hope extended a hand to Albert¡¯s shoulder. It was intended as comfort, but Albert flinched at the contact and Hope withdrew her hand.


    ¡°What about Graham? He should know what happened at the den, he walked in first. He actually made it in and then out before my memory started getting fuzzy.¡±


    ¡°Graham¡¯s gone too. Dad can¡¯t find him or compel him to appear, which shouldn¡¯t even be possible. That¡¯s why the office is mostly empty. Everyone is out looking.¡±


    The realization that his memory had been fragmented even more severely than he¡¯d originally thought and that there was no way to really prove it finally sunk in. Albert didn¡¯t have a ready response, and the fear and regret swirling in his head were going to keep it that way.


    ¡°Looking for you, if that wasn¡¯t clear.¡± Hope continued, her attitude verging on sarcasm. ¡°And Graham. We sent more people out to scout the area, and we found the McClellans. They don¡¯t seem interested in leaving, or talking for that matter, and that¡¯s¡­ fine for now. But we haven¡¯t seen any trace of another faction.¡±


    ¡°There was one, though.¡± Albert said after a deep breath. ¡°Madame Offry. She was posing as a medium. She sold contact to spirits, probably for property and souls¡­ maybe even as a condition for accepting the souls of half-deads. And she had a line behind her store¡ªnearly a quarter mile long¡ªof spirits waiting for their turn to talk to her.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The description changed Hope¡¯s expression from one of concern to one of unease. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s what you saw? You don¡¯t seem to be in the best head space right now, buddy. You even said that dad had you go out and collect three souls for him¡­ and I don¡¯t recall that ever happening. It¡¯s not in your file either.¡±


    Albert was about to shrug off the question, when Hope interrupted him. ¡°How did you even get here for that matter? You don¡¯t have a quill on you, dad hasn¡¯t been able to detect you, and I¡¯m going to assume your things were stolen since we haven¡¯t been able to contact you by phone either.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I think I was abducted. So could you maybe tone down the accusation?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t entirely sure if that was the truth, that he¡¯d been abducted somehow, but the blanks in his memory and the duration of his disappearance lined up.


    ¡°What do you mean, you think?¡± Hope was struggling to keep up, her voice was stuck somewhere in the accusation while her face had genuine worry on it.


    The mixture of genuine emotion Hope was displaying left Albert confused. He was still regretful that he had allowed himself to share an emotional and vulnerable moment with one of the most despicable people he had ever met, but her consistent display of care¡ªhowever minimal it was from time to time as she lashed out¡ªfor his well being.


    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t remember what happened from the moment I opened the door to her den to the moment I woke up in my apartment. And I don¡¯t know how I got here either. I just¡­ I asked to be taken here and I was here.¡±


    Albert¡¯s explanation was met with a gentle meow from his feet. When he turned to look, he didn¡¯t see anything. But with his memories functional again, he was able to fill in the gaps. He didn¡¯t know what it meant, exactly, but he was finally aware of Pincushion¡¯s presence.


    ¡°If you were abducted, and you don¡¯t know how you got back home, why do you still have Pincushion with you?¡± Hope¡¯s question was just as skeptical as it was suspicious; though that suspicion wasn¡¯t aimed directly at Albert, but at the cat.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Albert mumbled as he tried to pin down the location of the cat spirit without being able to see it.


    ¡°How did you get here?¡± Hope asked as she knelt back down to get closer to the spirit.


    The cat only meowed again, as was expected. But that it responded so directly caught Hope off guard. She wasn¡¯t entirely clear on exactly how intelligent Pincushion was, but she was slowly realizing that it was nearly human. And that worried her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see her. What¡¯s she doing?¡±


    Hope looked up to double check that Albert wasn¡¯t wearing glasses or contacts before she looked back to the cat and answered. ¡°She¡¯s right by your left foot. But I don¡¯t think she¡¯s just a cat spirit.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Albert agreed, his voice low as if he was trying to speak quietly so the cat couldn¡¯t hear him. ¡°But I don¡¯t have any idea what else she could be. And she follows instructions, which could be useful.¡±


    ¡°She follows¡­ okay. Demonstrate.¡± Hope ordered as she stood up and took a step back to try and evade any potential danger.


    ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t see her so I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s¡­ no¡­ Wait.¡± Albert sat down on the ground fully as he pondered what the implications of the thought that had just occurred to him.


    Hope crossed her arms and assumed something closer to her usual demeanor. ¡°Are you going to give the cat an order or not?¡±


    Pincushion issued a faint hiss directed at Hope, but didn¡¯t budge otherwise.


    ¡°I think¡­ Pincushion, do you have my quill?¡±


    The cat spirit meowed casually, and if Albert could see her he would have seen her nod faintly. Hope did see the nod and the shock of the interaction caused her to slump into one of the plastic chairs lining the wall behind her.


    ¡°If you do have it then, give it back to me.¡± Albert ordered calmly. He would have reached out to stroke the cat behind the ears as well, in way of offering, but it was much harder to do without being able to see it.


    Touching the cat spirit at all, as improbable as it sounded, would have been a risky choice. As, at the given order, Pincushion began to wheeze and hack. In a display that Albert was glad he couldn¡¯t see, and that Hope was genuinely disturbed to witness, the cat spirit coughed up a mass of inky black slime. At first Albert thought the slime was some kind of protoplasm, but then the quill buried in the midst of it reminded him of another item he¡¯d had in his backpack¡ªink.


    ¡°Alright. Good girl.¡± Albert hummed. His attempt at praise was strained by the nature of the retrieval, but it was still a useful piece of information to know. ¡°If you have anything else of mine, give it back as well.¡±


    The following minute was a chorus of disturbing retching noises and items tumbling forth from the maw of the spirit. Hope sat silently, jaw barely set as the nearest sensation to nausea that she was capable of experiencing set in. Albert was still glad he couldn¡¯t see what was happening, based off of Hope¡¯s expression alone it was horrific, but he didn¡¯t enjoy his ability to hear or smell the process either. It sounded exactly like a real living cat throwing up a hairball and it smelled ten times worse.


    ¡°Albert.¡± Hope said, one hand over her mouth and nose to obscure the smell. ¡°I never want to see something like that again. There¡¯s a wash room in my office, go clean your things up.¡±


    ¡°I could have Pincushion do something else, though. If you still need proof, I mean.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Hope objected loudly, more loudly than Albert felt was called for. ¡°No. Just. Take the cat with you. I¡¯m going to get in contact with my father, write a report, and try very hard to forget what I¡¯ve just seen once it¡¯s all on paper and I don¡¯t need to remember it anymore.¡±

 Chapter Thirty-Three: Irreversible Consequences

    There was no denying that, after the conversation that Hope and Albert had just had, the nature of their relationship had changed. Albert saw it most clearly, while Hope regarded it as nothing more than a moment of weakness. She had shown him kindness, empathy, she had even gone out of her way to help him when it would have been simpler for her to let him die and renegotiate from that position. Her father would have praised her for it even. But it had been nice, in an unusual way, Hope thought; to be kind, to be welcomed, to be needed.


    But, as Albert left the main room of the agency, Hope swore silently to herself that she would never be so soft again. Not to anyone. Not even Albert; not even the only person that had asked her for assistance, genuinely asked her, in well over a hundred years. It had filled a void in her heart and she her instincts told her that she had to be firm and hollow it out again.


    Albert, on the other hand, began to hyperventilate as soon as he was alone in the wash room connected to Hope¡¯s office. The peace and calm that privacy afforded him, however, made it easier to calm down than if he¡¯d been closer to Hope. It still took several minutes, but with the stink of the small pile of goop covered items he¡¯d promptly dropped in the small sink he stood before Albert felt the compulsion to accomplish his task slowly outweigh his dread.


    The small pile of things that Pincushion had spat out¡ªat least that was what Albert hoped the cat spirit had done to produce them¡ªwere mostly covered in ink that had spilled from the open inkwell that was also part of the pile. But there was still some kind of other goo mixed in as well that Albert couldn¡¯t place. It wasn¡¯t acid like bile or vomit, and it wasn¡¯t excrement. It was almost like petroleum jelly, but it didn¡¯t actually lubricate the surfaces it touched. It didn¡¯t resist force either; rather, it was merely a neutral sort of easily spreadable gelatinous paste. And it smelled of death, rot, and decay.


    Since the inkwell was empty and the only thing it would do is spread more stained water around as Albert washed the rest of the things, it was set aside. The cell phone, as well, required a dry approach and was set aside. The rest, the quill and glasses, Albert ran water over and rubbed clean with his thumb. It wasn¡¯t pretty, and they would need to dry out, but they would be functional and didn¡¯t stink anymore. Albert tried to remember what other items had been in his backpack that he¡¯d gotten from the office. There had been his own contracts folder, the associates list, the paperwork from the fake internship¡­ he couldn¡¯t remember if there was more.


    Once the glasses were mostly clean, Albert lifted them carefully on to his face so that he could see Pincushion. He had assumed the cat spirit had followed him into the wash room, and he was not wrong. It was sitting on its hind legs by Albert¡¯s feet, patiently watching as he cleaned up the mess it had made. It seemed to notice that he could see it now, and offered a happy purr as Albert looked down at it.


    ¡°I¡¯d ask what you¡¯re so happy about, but you just wanted to be seen again. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Pincushion issued a happy meow at Albert¡¯s comment.


    ¡°And I¡¯m really grateful that you did. I don¡¯t know how you managed to get my things after I went inside the den, or how you made your way back to the alleyway, but thank you.¡±


    The cat spirit issued another happy meow and rubbed the side of its face against Albert¡¯s ankle. Or, at least, it tried to. Albert didn¡¯t quite feel the contact, though he saw it through the glasses. It was like a wind brushing up against the cuff of his jeans. Spirits, being only partially solid, had the misfortune of existing in a situationally interactive state. Albert knew the frustration that that could cause from his own brief existence as nothing more than a half-dead spirit. But Pincushion seemed content with the limited interaction.


    ¡°But at the same time, I almost wish you hadn¡¯t been there. Because if you hadn¡¯t, I get the feeling I would have just forgotten all over again. I would have gone back home, the symptoms would have faded, and I never would have interacted with Hope again.¡± Albert gripped the lip of the sink basin in a death grip as he let the train of thought run its course. ¡°That¡¯s what I feel, anyway. But at the same time, this was inevitable. Wasn¡¯t it. They know where I live, and sooner or later someone would have seen me. They went looking. This is so stupid. Why do I feel grateful?!¡±


    Albert had to stifle his frustration sot that Hope wouldn¡¯t actually hear him talking about her. Pincushion made a noise that Albert couldn¡¯t quite place, but he ignored the cat spirit¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to feel like I owe her anything, you know? Like, she¡¯s terrible. You can feel it under your skin when you¡¯re around her. It¡¯s like everyone else is just a toy to her. And now I feel like I owe her, because she put me back together¡­¡±


    With a groan of frustration, Albert looked back down to his hands. They were white with the strain of his grip. And below them, he saw the cat spirit start to swirl around his feet in a figure eight.


    ¡°I¡¯m loosing it.¡± Albert said with a quiet breath as he let go of the sink and pushed his hands through his hair. ¡°I know people talk to pets all the time, but you¡¯re dead and you can understand me. And as cool as that might be, it¡¯s just so crazy I can¡¯t trust that anything is real right now.¡±


    The cat stopped and looked up at Albert, making eye contact that he had never seen any sort of non-human creature make before. Even gorillas at the zoo never really had that sort of intent behind their eyes when they stared you down. It was a piercing look that, apart from being unnerving due to it¡¯s source, also felt comforting in a strange way. It was the spirit¡¯s attempt to level with Albert, to say ¡°that is crazy, but it¡¯s also real.¡± That was the message Albert intuited, and it was very nearly exactly what the spirit was trying to tell him. But it was just the tip of an iceberg of information that the spirit wished it could confer upon him.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Albert muttered after letting out a quiet sigh. ¡°You think we should go finish that conversation with Hope?¡±


    A chirp from the cat spirit seemed to indicate it¡¯s answer as it walked out of the washroom ahead of Albert.


    Hope was not situated in her office, and Albert thought better of lingering there lest he damage anything by accident. But when he emerged back into the main lobby, Hope was still nowhere to be found. There wasn¡¯t any noise coming from the storage closet either. It wasn¡¯t until Albert directed his attention to Death¡¯s personal office that he noticed a dim light behind the ever so slightly ajar door.


    ¡°Hope?¡± Albert called out. ¡°Everything¡¯s cleaned up and I think I¡¯ve got my head back on straight all the way. Was there anything else you needed me to do?¡±


    There was a surprised jolt of movement from beyond the door, Albert could hear something like a wooden draw shut suddenly before Hope spoke up.


    ¡°Yes! Hold on. I need you to write down everything you remember from your outing with Graham.¡± Hope seemed slightly flustered as she emerged from her father¡¯s office with a legal pad in one hand and a small stack of other papers in the other.


    The fluster in Hope¡¯s voice made Albert uncomfortable. He interpreted it as the result in the shift in their relationship. It had moved past a mere professional one into something more intimate. Not friendship, not romantic. At least, Albert hoped it wasn¡¯t romantic.


    In reality, their relationship had become the kind one develops with someone that goes above and beyond to help them for no good reason. An altruistic bond; perhaps one of the oddest types of social bonds. They are difficult to discuss, as they are often misconstrued to be some kind of romantic interest, and they tend to be stronger than most all casual connections. Even when the two parties dislike each other in the way that Albert and Hope now disliked each other. Even as each of their distaste for the other had grown, the connection of altruistic cooperation remained stronger.


    ¡°Here.¡± Hope held out the legal pad at a full arm¡¯s length as if getting any closer to Albert was distasteful. ¡°I¡¯ll get you some more ink, so you can use your quill.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Don¡¯t burden yourself on my part.¡± Albert caught hold of the potential danger of the offer, suddenly remembering Amy¡¯s advice about receiving help at the office. If he agreed to let Hope do anything for him, she could trap him in an open-ended agreement that could leave him legitimately in debt to her in a contractual sense.


    ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± Hope groaned as she dumped the legal pad in Albert¡¯s hands and walked back into the supply closet. ¡°If I was going to stoop so low as instituting a verbal contract without your full awareness and consent, I wouldn¡¯t have bothered to keep you alive in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Albert whispered. It was mostly to himself, but when he looked down he saw Pincushion looking up at him as she listened just intently to the conversation.


    ¡°Actually, before I put pen to paper for you, you never answered my question from before.¡±


    ¡°What question?¡± Hope asked, a look of displeasure clear on her face as she leaned out of the door to the supply closet.


    ¡°How many souls did you end up taking from me? You said more than three, but I get the impression you have a better idea than that.¡±


    Hope made her way all the way out of the closet before answering. She even handed Albert a full inkwell before she spoke. Her silence was contemplative. Not about the actual question itself, but whether or not she should reveal the truth.


    ¡°I checked just now.¡± Hope held up the other stack of papers in her hand. ¡°These are documents outlining the spiritual property that were tied to the souls you transferred over to me. There¡¯s about eighty or ninety of them. And my current holdings, the souls I have actively in my possession¡­ when I ran that check it came back nearly two hundred and fifty over my estimate at the start of the day.¡±


    Albert was almost too stunned to respond, two hundred and fifty was a lot. Way more than the two that had nearly rendered him totally blind the first time he¡¯d worked as an arbitrator for Death. But a thought occurred to him that made it less impressive.


    ¡°Oh, but I¡¯m sure you contracted for other souls today too. So about how many actually¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Albert. I didn¡¯t.¡± Hope interrupted him. ¡°We¡¯ve been focused on locating our lost assets for the past three days. We haven¡¯t written up new acquisition contracts for anyone since we realized that something was wrong. You just handed me, if my math is correct¡ªwhich it is¡ªtwo-hundred and forty-eight souls.¡±


    With confirmation of his initial shock, Albert was left truly speechless. Even Pincushion, cat spirit though she was, didn¡¯t offer any sort of noise in response. All eyes in the room were blank and overwhelmed, unwilling to accept the truth of what had just happened.


    ¡°It makes sense, in a way.¡± Hope spoke up. ¡°Altering someone¡¯s memory isn¡¯t exactly simple work, even for us. It takes a lot of logic, a lot of mental redirection. Cutting off certain memory pathways and connecting them to others. It¡¯s comparable to actual brain surgery. Which makes sense out of the length of your disappearance. Whoever took you, I¡¯m betting this Madame Offry, spent three days diluting your mind with souls so that you would forget something important.¡±


    ¡°Should I write that down?¡± Albert was lost. He had his quill in one hand, the legal pad in the other, and his jaw as near to the floor as it could get while he was standing upright.


    ¡°Take some more time, if you need. You can sit at Milli¡¯s desk.¡± Hope gestured to the desk Albert had sat in front of after signing on to work for Death. ¡°I¡¯m going to call my father and clue him in on the situation. I¡¯ve already put it off long enough.¡±


    Without other options coming to mind, Albert followed the directions given to him. He sat down at the desk, waited several minutes while he heard Hope talking on the phone in the background, and then put the pad of paper down and started writing. The phrase ¡°I was worried there might be some kind of permanent side-effects¡± came up in Hope¡¯s phone conversation more than once. And by the time she slapped her phone shut to end the call with her father, Albert found himself at the bottom of his second page with nothing more to write.


    The sound of movement from within Death¡¯s office told Albert that the contractor had returned. And all he could think about, now that things were starting to return to normal¡ªor as near as they could get to normal¡ªwas that there was no way that he was going to be able to look at Hope in the same room as Death and not have her father realize that something unusual had happened. Something Albert wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be killed for.

 Chapter Thirty-Four: Unveiling of The True Self

    ¡°If you are done waiting, I would very much like to talk to you now.¡± Death¡¯s voice echoed out from within his office. Even behind closed doors, Albert felt there was something unnerving about the way his voice could pierce through to his ears as if they were standing right next to each other.


    After he had returned to his office, Death had called in Hope and they had been talking for nearly half an hour. The door had been closed the entire time and Albert hadn¡¯t been able to hear any of the conversation that was transpiring behind it. But he didn¡¯t need to hear it to imagine what they were talking about.


    At Death¡¯s prompting, Albert made his way to the office door and let himself in. The room beyond looked much the same as the last time he¡¯d seen it, only now there were piled of pages strewn about on Death¡¯s desk.


    ¡°Take a seat, Albert.¡± Death stood as Albert entered and gestured to the seat across the desk. ¡°And before your imagination gets the better of you, go ahead and cast aside any preconceived notions about punishment or danger. That is not why I want to talk to you. Quite the opposite.¡±


    Albert sat down quietly and quickly, eager not to displease the contractor or his daughter. Albert had barely noticed Hope at first, but she was hunched over a small writing table in a corner of the room, not paying attention to anything behind her. Or so it seemed. Albert was sure that she was still listening in, and that was danger enough.


    ¡°So¡­ you want to reward me? ¡­and protect me?¡± Albert wasn¡¯t exactly sure if those were the opposite of what he¡¯d had in mind prior, but they were the opposite of what Death had said.


    ¡°After a fashion, yes.¡± Death took a more casual and comfortable posture in his chair as he spoke. ¡°You see, you¡¯ve done a few things now that are utterly inexplicable. Even from the first day I met you, you have been doing what would should have been impossible. You backed me into a philosophical corner until we were on even ground, and that is unheard of. You managed to complete my request of collecting two human souls in a matter of several days, which is far less time than it should have taken. And just recently, you managed to contain an unheard of amount of human souls in your mortal body¡­ a number that should have split you in half long before it became as absurd as it did.¡±


    Hope snickered to herself at her father¡¯s remark, but Albert sat in stunned silence. Two hundred and forty-eight was a big number, but surely it wasn¡¯t that absurd? Surely Death himself had collected far more souls than that. Though, the significant part of his statement had been less about the number and more about Albert. When he had carried just two before, he¡¯d nearly gone completely blind in a matter of hours. But, somehow, with over two hundred, he¡¯d managed to stay alive for days and hadn¡¯t felt any consequences until he¡¯d become aware of his own potential spiritual burden.


    Regardless of the shock, something about Death¡¯s tone seemed wrong to Albert. It took him longer to process it, because it hadn¡¯t been the first thing he¡¯d noticed, but Death was being far nicer than he ever had before. He¡¯d been cordial before, but now he was complimenting Albert. It was abnormal. And that meant it was a trick; it had to be. Somehow, some way, Death was going to use Albert to progress his own machinations. He wasn¡¯t exactly coy about it, and that made sense. Albert couldn¡¯t stop Death head on, there were probably only a handful of beings that could, but there was a chance he could subvert him. Death wasn¡¯t being direct about the how, and that was Albert¡¯s first clue that there was a chance that the circumstances he now found himself in might benefit him as well.


    ¡°Anyway, if you¡¯ll pardon my flattery, you have exhibited extraordinary good fortune. Thus far, I think you have always managed to come out on top regardless of the situation you¡¯ve been placed in. And I¡¯m including you¡¯re latest scuffle with the McClellans and this so called Madame Offry. I¡¯m beginning to think I may be better served by using you as a genuine asset to my team.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Albert wanted to be sure that Death said what he was implying outright; there were consequences for lying, but it wouldn¡¯t be a lie if Death never came out and said it. ¡°That you¡¯re going to stop trying to get me killed so you can collect my spiritual property?¡±


    ¡°As luck would have it, yes.¡± Death said with a grin, flashing a mouthful of hideous yellow teeth. ¡°Because I have it already.¡±


    Suddenly, Death¡¯s casual confidence made sense. There was no need for him to keep Albert alive anymore; the stipulation in their contract that allowed him to terminate employment and simply kill him then and there would have made it easy. But there he sat¡ªno malice in his voice, no ill intent in his posture. It was as though Death hadn¡¯t just declared that Albert was a dead man walking.


    ¡°To be clear, I don¡¯t technically possess the particular piece of property myself at the moment. My dear daughter does. We are currently in the process of identifying that particular piece of property amid the stack of other properties you passed on to my daughter.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°And don¡¯t bother trying to figure out how it happened.¡± Hope cut in. ¡°By all accounts any property you were holding shouldn¡¯t have passed to me through our contract. But you gave me everything but your own soul. That includes any and all properties you were holding before.¡±


    ¡°Well... it was nice while it lasted I guess.¡± Albert said with a sigh, the defeat finally sinking in. ¡°It¡¯d be nice if you let Amy pass on some parting words to my mom, but I guess that¡¯s an extra service most people pay for. Whatever, just don¡¯t make it too gruesome.¡±


    Death wasn¡¯t phased by the sudden turn in Albert¡¯s demeanor, his same jovial attitude persisted. ¡°Albert, are you already forgetting what I¡¯ve said? I have no intention of killing you. I have the property I set out to take, but you may be far more useful to me than it now.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ can I know what I was?¡±


    It was something that had been in and out of Albert¡¯s mind ever since he¡¯d heard the words ¡®spiritual property¡¯ and no one had been able to give him a straight answer about what it was that had made him so special. But if it wasn¡¯t his problem any more, then surely it wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. It meant that, in retrospect, his life¡ªor any human life for that matter¡ªwas next to worthless to the other two beings in the room with him. But Albert was unexpectedly and regrettably at peace with that.


    ¡°It pains me to say this, but I am unable to say for certain what property you held.¡± Death¡¯s positivity faltered for a moment as he answered. ¡°All I know is that it is part of something that once belonged to me.¡±


    ¡°Found it.¡± Hope declared, holding a piece of paper over her head and then over to her father.


    ¡°And it seems it is a rather important part too. Why am I not surprised.¡± Death hummed as he looked the page over. ¡°But this doesn¡¯t belong to me any more.¡±


    To Albert¡¯s surprise, Death slid the page across the desk towards him. He didn¡¯t dare touch the page at first, but when Death flicked his wrist to shoot the paper directly into Albert¡¯s lap, he didn¡¯t exactly have a choice. With shaking hands and wide eyes, Albert lifted the page to his face and began to read. It was difficult at first, he didn¡¯t know where to start and his eyes were darting frantically across the paper as he tried to make sense of it all.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a piece of artwork?¡± Albert asked, exasperated that something so important in the course of his life was just a piece of art.


    ¡°You say that as though you never looked at a painting or a sculpture and had your breath taken away by the skill and the effort that contributed to it¡¯s creation.¡± Death said with a weary sigh.


    Albert¡¯s first instinct was to feel guilty about his lack of art appreciation, as Death was spot on. But his second instinct was to let his rage grow. And that seemed to be the way it would have continued, until Albert¡¯s eyes darted to the line that read previous owner: Albert William Carol.


    ¡°This says I was it¡¯s last owner¡­ but could you figure out who owned it before me?¡±


    ¡°That would be a fascinating trek through history, would it not?¡± Death chuckled. ¡°To see how something so odd traveled from my hands to yours? But sadly, no. That line is only as a record of transaction for the current state of the property. It merely bears record that this property passed from you to Hope in it¡¯s last transaction.¡±


    ¡°How do you know this is the right thing then?¡± Albert asked, setting the page down to look Death in the eye. He noticed that, as he did so, Death casually placed his hands down on the desk.


    ¡°When I was a younger man, I commissioned an artist to make it. When it was complete, he named it The True Self. And as you can see by the title on the property, what you owned was The Heart of The True Self.¡±


    ¡°So I owned the heart of an item?¡±


    ¡°The core piece of it.¡± Death corrected. ¡°It was broken not long after it¡¯s creation, it¡¯s various pieces finding their ways to different people¡¯s possession. Collecting them all has been something of a hobby of mine since I lost track of it.¡±


    ¡°All right¡­¡± Albert started slowly. ¡°So, what does it look like? This doesn¡¯t have a picture.¡±


    ¡°It has a description, if you look down at the bottom. Though perhaps, Hope, would you mind presenting the piece described?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be a moment, father.¡± Hope answered, more obedient than Albert had ever seen her. She was gone in a flash, leaving Albert alone in the room with Death.


    Something in Death¡¯s posture changed as soon as his daughter was gone. He leaned forward in his chair, suddenly becoming much less casual.


    ¡°While we have a moment of privacy, perhaps I should warn you about fraternizing with my daughter.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Albert interrupted sternly. ¡°Nope, nope nope, not happening.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°All due respect, sir¡­ you daughter scares the carp outta me.¡±


    Albert wasn¡¯t sure why he was being so honest about his feelings towards Hope, maybe it was because he was nearly given the dad lecture that boys get before dating someone¡¯s daughter. Regardless, it seemed to serve it¡¯s purpose.


    ¡°Good, then we have nothing to worry about.¡±


    The next thirty seconds or so were quiet, making them feel like they stretched on for an eternity. But at the end, Hope returned. He arrival was sudden and startling, but also a relief. Though not much of a relief. Albert still wasn¡¯t comfortable around either of them, but the thought of a parental discussion with Death sounded like a good way to be wiped from the face of the earth if he said even the slightest thing wrong. And, as it was, Albert was already well past pushing the line on that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, boys.¡± Hope said quietly, her words filling the room. ¡°One broken masterwork, as requested.¡±


    Albert read over the description again as he glanced at the object that had been laid neatly on the desk.


    One artistically rendered mirror. Frame of cast bronze in ornate fashion, glass blown as shaped custom crystal (broken), backing of spirit bound silver foil (broken), echoes of the last soul to see The True Self (fragment).


    Only one thought passed through Albert¡¯s mind as he finished reading and looked directly at the part of The True Self that lay motionless on the desk. Where had he gotten this terrifying hunk of bronze from?

 Chapter Thirty-Five: Ledger

    "You¡¯re really going to just give this back to me?" Albert was still aghast as he eyed the broken mirror warily. "You killed me for  I don¡¯t know, "


    "Albert, you seem to be misunderstanding. You work for me now. Whether you or I  written ownership of The True Self is irrelevant so long as you remain " Death answered casually as he signaled for Hope to do something, but Albert didn¡¯t miss the subtle threat in his words. "And it seems likely that ownership of this property may be part of your uncanny fortune. Declaring that with surety is not something I am confident I can do but, as I said, it seems likely.  property can behave as such in certain circumstances."


    Okay, what about the ring then?Albert asked, suddenly remembering that the mirror was not the only piece of property he owned.


    "Of course. Hope, pass me the stack of properties and I can filter through for the "


    Hope absently handed the stack of papers back to her father as she continued writing at the small desk at the back of the room. Albert wasn¡¯t sure what she was writing, but she seemed intent on doing it very carefully. Her arm wasn¡¯t moving with the rapid urgency or the quick precision that he had seen before.


    "This really used to be yours" Albert muttered to himself as he let himself actually touch the brass frame of the mirror.


    Death muttered back, his attention still on the papers in his lap. I commissioned it, as I said. It is always a treat to find a half-dead starving artist begging for an opportunity to create their magnum opus before they pass into "


    "What was their name?"


    Albert couldn¡¯t help himself. The question slipped out of his mouth as a whisper, but Death still heard it and looked up to better judge how he should .


    "His name was Charles Marchant, a brilliant sculptor and metallurgist. He left a lot behind when he passedYou remind me of him, "


    "Me too" Hope hummed without looking back at Albert. It¡¯s the posture, or the set of the jaw maybe? Or maybe it¡¯s just that he¡¯s so "


    "Disruptive?"   out skeptically. He couldn¡¯t think of a single time in his life where he¡¯d actually interrupted the status quo. Apart from debating  to a standstill, at least.


    "Not American disruptiveness, Albert." Death corrected. People here will rage against anything that looks at them wrong because their whole lives are short rides between prolonged anxiety-inducing nightmares and a bed they feel safe in.


    The abrupt and callous dismissal of an entire nation''s troubles mixed with the offhanded compliment caught Albert off-guard. He almost missed the intentional shift in topic. Death¡¯s brow had furrowed at the mention of Charles Marchant; and while it had looked like a minor consideration at first, the prolonged duration of the expression made it clear to Albert that the contractor had deeper feelings on the topic than he was letting on. It felt strange to think that Death could slip up and let his guard down so easily but with how composed he always seemed, it must have been something incredibly significant.


    "How did it break?" Albert asked. He had been afraid to dig further initially, but there likely wouldn¡¯t be many opportunities to ask if the mirror had such a dangerous history.


    Death paused and looked up from the stack of papers he was still thumbing through. His gaze was suddenly cautious, piercing, and wary of Albert. I made the mistake of entrusting it to someone I trusted a great deal. Someone that didn¡¯t work for me. It was and will continue to be the last time I make such a foolish mistake.


    Silence followed Death¡¯s proclamation, and Albert could feel the skin on the back of his neck going a little clammy while he sat there under the contractor¡¯s prolonged gaze. It was both a threat and a warning. If Albert kept to the topic, there would be repercussions. Fortunately, or perhaps intentionally, Hope picked that horrifying lull in conversation to return to the center of the room and present Albert with a new sheet of paper.


    Feel free to read over this, but it¡¯s pretty much just a return of property. And the line at the end with a blank is just a placeholder that lets me add on the actual name of the ring once we find it, which I can do after you sign it. That provision there is what lets me do the after signing thing there, by the way."


    The idea of something being changed after signing bothered Albert but as he read it, he felt reassured. Hope had been very deliberate and careful as she was constructing the agreement. The line post signing, arbitrator  agrees that contractor ____ may append additional property _________ (which property will be only that item which the arbitrator intends) when it is identified. And while the straightforwardness was comforting, the fact that it was Hope writing it counteracted that feeling a great deal. Just because she was trying to be well-mannered and just because she was around her father didn¡¯t mean that she didn¡¯t have her own motives and that she would take advantage of every opportunity she could to get what she wanted. Albert just wished that he knew what it was that she wanted.


    After carefully reading the document over twice, Albert . Hope, who had been sitting on the desk next to the contract, snatched it up as soon as it was signed and took it back to the back of the room. Albert was surprised that the broken mirror wasn¡¯t retracted as well, but there was a different feeling in the air as he sat at the desk now. The first time that Albert had accepted property from Death, he''d sat in that very chair, and the property had felt like any other item. But now, with the broken  of  right in front of him and transferred back into his ownership, it felt different. It felt alive in a way that objects shouldn¡¯t; it was almost humming with a pulse that was ticking off at  bpm you¡¯d expect from an Olympic athlete pushing themselves too far. And at the same time, it was perfectly still.


    Recovering from the sudden shift in the object¡¯s nature, Albert looked around the room to see all eyes on him. With a nervous shrug from Albert, Death went back to shuffling through pages. But Hope kept her eyes on him.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "It¡¯s got a wicked hum to it, doesn¡¯t it"  said with a grin and a wag of her  "Only  do  Even broken "


    "Ah, Hope, here it is." Death interceded with a page held out for his daughter to take. "It was nearly at the bottom of the stack. Once you  that to the previous contract, would you please grace us with the other "


    With a nod, Hope scratched her quill across the paper that Albert had just signed and began to shuffle through the other documents cluttering the small writing desk. As soon as she was done with the contract, Albert felt a wave of relief wash over him. Marcus¡¯ ring wasn¡¯t anything glamorous, nothing to fight over it was just a somewhat tacky class ring after all. But it had been the first piece of spiritual property that Albert had willingly owned, and it felt personal. He¡¯d gained ownership of it after working with Marcus and making a deal that relied heavily on his own ability to protect someone else. The condition for Marcus to sign over his soul, and unwittingly save Albert¡¯s life in turn, was that Albert keep Marcus¡¯ sister safe from Death and other contractors like him. The ring felt like a physical representation of that deal, even if Albert hadn¡¯t actually gotten to handle it for very long.


    "Now, Albert, you seem to be in a daze, but I would appreciate your undivided attention for a short time longer."


    Death¡¯s voice cut through Albert¡¯s relief and recounting harshly and had him back on alert the second he started speaking.


    "Good. You heard me make mention of two more " Death continued as he waved Hope back over to his side of the desk. "These have been drafted as a consequence of your recent absence. One is to determine whether or not you can be trusted in lieu of your irrecoverable time spent with Madame "


    Hope had placed two single-page contracts on the desk in front of her father and stepped back to lean against the wall. Death put a hand gently on the page to his right and slid it forward to Albert. It was a very careful gesture, more so than he had performed when returning the documentation of The True Self.


    "This is a discovery  It is a request of your soul, not for ownership but for disclosure. It allows us to see any and all binding contracts you have signed or been party to. There is a filter paragraph in the midst of this contract which narrows the scope of discovery to contracts written by contractors such as myself. Additionally, a difficult to decipher paragraph¡ªthe second one of the document¡ªis a paradox countermeasure, which excludes this document from the list of documents. You are invited to review the document in its entirety before signing. But there is the matter of this contract as "


    Albert didn¡¯t know what to expect. The first document was definitely in Death¡¯s scrawling, spidery handwriting but from across the desk, Albert could see that the second one was not. And as Death pushed it towards him, less gingerly than the first, Hope¡¯s neat and trim hand was clearly evident.


    "That¡¯s for your commission." Hope explained, with a slight excitement in her voice. "Both from me and from my father."


    "Commission?" Albert didn¡¯t recall any mention of earning a commission from working for either of them. But if they were going to pay him, he wasn¡¯t going to say no¡ªat least not right away.


    "You completed the job you were sent to do, albeit in a roundabout way." Death responded calmly. "You even identified two competitors, which is a great help. And good work should not go without "


    "And you transferred a substantial volume of souls to me, which I consider worthy of a commission."


    "I would prefer that we settle the matter of conflict of interest prior to signing your commission, but your commission is not dependant on a clean bill of health." Death tacked on.


    Seeing the serious look on Death¡¯s face, Albert picked up the discovery contract and started reading. Like Death had said, it wasn¡¯t the most straightforward document. His handwriting only made it worse too. The second paragraph was entirely unintelligible Albert wasn¡¯t even sure if some of the words were in English¡ªthough that seemed par for the course with contracts. Latin terms seemed to come up a lot. But apart from that, there was still a substantial amount that Albert couldn¡¯t wrap his head around. The introductory paragraph was about all that made sense, and that was only because it was a similar wording to all the other contracts he¡¯d been given.


    Even things that almost made sense had elements such as: agrees, by right of denial or lack thereof, and through signing, to disclose known and unknown agreements as penned by hand or given by unwritten consent. And Albert had no idea what "right of denial or lack thereof" meant. He doubted that there was any sort of language like that in normal legal contracts. But confusing terminology and arbitrary and obscure terms seemed to be the bread and butter of contracting for souls.


    "So when I sign this, how will you know it worked?"


    "You will have to place your hand on a blank parchment while you sign, and the parchment will populate with a list of agreements you are party to." Death with a wave of his hand, like it was no big deal.


    Based on the seriousness with which he was treating the situation, however, it was most likely a very big deal. It seemed that every time Albert had to sign his name somewhere, it was a matter of incredible severity and consequence.


    Hope slid a blank sheet of paper across the desk for Albert to place his hand on, and he produced his own quill. a moment, he sat there. Even if there was an option not to sign, there wasn¡¯t a reason Albert could provide. He couldn¡¯t identify a reason why the contract was unfair or a bad idea. And without a reason, how would he ever get a better and more clear contractAll that remained was to follow instructions and do as he was told until a better opportunity presented itself.


    And so, without recourse, Albert placed his left hand on the blank parchment and signed his name on the disclosure agreement with his right. Slowly, Albert felt a damp sensation crawl across his palm, like there was an open cut letting out onto the paper. Rather than blood, however, ink began to pool out from under his hand and stream out to the top of the page and begin to form words. Albert recognized the first few, but wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the information next to the names meant. Death, ARB, two; Albert, ARB, AG; Albert, ARB, MH; Death, ARB; Death, RES. But further down the list were names that Albert didn¡¯t expect. . , ; E. Marchant, ; E. Marchant, RES; E. Marchant, RES; E. Marchant, RES. And that name kept . E. Marchant. It covered the page completely to the left of Albert¡¯s hand. Additional columns were forming and it all appeared to be the same name with the same letters following it. When ink began to spill off the page and carve the name into the surface of the desk, Albert thought it would be best to lift his hand and stop the process. But it didn¡¯t stop when he moved his hand; he was just better able to see what was happening.


    And just when Albert thought it wouldn¡¯t stop, after a good square foot of the desk¡¯s surface was covered in the same name, there was a change. Hope, COL; Hope, RES; Hope, TRF. Albert gathered that those last three transactions represented the procedures that had occurred just that day. And when he looked up to ask Hope if that was the case, he found her standing next to him with her mouth open in shock at the results of the contract. And as she looked herself, she turned to her father, a mixture of fear and caution on her face.


    "Don¡¯t look, it¡¯s probably just an error." Hope¡¯s voice revealed a further layer of panic that Albert couldn¡¯t explain but stirred up fear in his own mind.


    If she was frightened by what her father¡¯s reaction would be, then he should have been terrified. But for some reason, the feeling wasn¡¯t sinking in. He felt like he was watching a movie rather than his own life. Nothing he had ever done had produced such a dramatic result. At each stage of the process of working for  he had done more than he had ever thought capable, but it had always elicited only a mild response.


    It was Death¡¯s response, calm and cold, that truly drove fear into Albert¡¯s heart. He had never heard the level of contempt that Death uttered in such a collected tone of voice. "This is not an error, it¡¯s Eleanor."

 Chapter Thirty-Six: Behind Closed Doors

    With the command, ¡°Handle the matter of commission in your office, Hope,¡± Death dismissed his daughter and Albert out of the room.


    Albert didn¡¯t hesitate to accept the invitation to leave. He was in such a hurry that he completely forgot about the papers on the desk and about the ones he had in hand. As it was, he didn¡¯t pay attention to the property summary of The Heart of The True Self that he¡¯d picked up to get out of the way of the disclosure writing as it had spread across the desk. Fortunately, Hope was more careful with her exit. Just after Albert exited Death¡¯s office, Hope emerged with several papers in one hand and the broken mirror in the other.


    ¡°We should leave him be, something¡¯s really¡ª¡± Hope was interrupted by a loud crunching noise like solid wood being splintered. ¡ªhit a ¡±


    The sound of destruction from within Death¡¯s office and the conflicted expression on Hope¡¯s face told Albert everything he needed to know. If he ever so much as breathed the name Eleanor Marchant in the presence of Death, he was as good as dust in the wind. That wasn¡¯t the only worry either; Hope also seemed affected by the abrupt introduction of Eleanor into the mix. Albert just wasn¡¯t sure exactly how she was being affected.


    ¡°Ignore that.¡± Hope commanded quietly as she directed Albert¡¯s attention back to her own office. ¡°And don¡¯t mention what you heard or saw just now to anyone.¡±


    ¡°Of course¡± Albert answered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    With the tension in the air, Albert suddenly felt like his throat was beginning to swell slightly. It was harder to breathe comfortably, and what few breaths he could manage to choke through were shallow and erratic. A gentle brush against his leg, however, began to calm him again.


    The short walk between offices was punctuated with Hope¡¯s direction for Albert to sit. It all seemed incredibly familiar. Albert had just been here, after all, but now things were very different. He wasn¡¯t the one at his wits end anymore; he was just a bystander to the chaos now.


    ¡°Before we were sidetracked, you were told that you were going to be paid a commission.¡± Hope started, her face forced into a new mask of composure as she rounded her desk to sit across from Albert. But, as you may have guessed, we aren¡¯t interested in paying you with traditional mortal currency. We trade in souls, and we pay in souls. So your commission is in souls. For your contribution to me, you will be paid five percent. My father outlined a flat rate of seventy-five for your role in the job you completed for the ¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t that¡ª¡± Albert started out with a stammer but gradually realized that his question had merit as he completed the math in his head. ¡°¡ªwouldn¡¯t that just cripple me again? That¡¯s like... almost a hundred souls. Why would I want to be paid like ¡±


    ¡°Since you¡¯re mortal, it¡¯s going to be held in a  You retain ownership but aren¡¯t considered the direct holder of the souls. They¡¯ll be, essentially, the same thing as money in the ¡±


    ¡°So... I would own souls.¡±


    ¡°When you say it like  you make it sound like slavery, Albert.¡± Hope groaned. ¡°These aren¡¯t living souls. They¡¯re not people. They¡¯re energy.  of power, mutable, transferable finite. And they aren¡¯t taken by ¡±


    ¡°Your dad tried to take mine by  He killed me for ¡±


    ¡°Wrong on both counts, Albert.¡± Hope sank in her chair, both annoyed and distressed that things continued to not go her way. My father attempted to take your soul by strategy, and that strategy involved having someone else kill you. Bad things happen when contractors kill mortals.


    Bad things? Is it against the rules or something? Because I feel like being party to a murder is still ¡±


    ¡°There are no rules, just things that can and can¡¯t be done. But when a contractor takes a life by their own hand, bad things ¡±


    ¡°Like karma?¡±


    ¡°Sure. ¡±  said with a  ¡°There¡¯s no evidence, but there is a  A pattern and no way to verify the causality. Correlation isn¡¯t causation and all ¡±


    ¡°So¡± Albert was lost.


    He¡¯d lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. Hope seemed remarkably open, which was probably the result of stress and the complications that seemed to continuously rise from everything Albert was involved with. And all the information that Albert was gathering from her only served to forge the pathway for more distractions from what it was that she wanted to accomplish.


    ¡°Just sign the stupid contracts and get paid.¡±


    Hope tossed the pages she¡¯d managed to collect on her way out of her father¡¯s office towards Albert. Combined with the several pages he¡¯d already had in his hands, it was everything he needed. And he signed them without complaint. There was very little language in these commission contracts; they were more like invoices.


    ¡°Great,¡± Hope groaned, ¡°now can we do something other than talk about  I¡¯ve been on high alert for what feels like ten ¡±


    Albert glanced at the clock hanging on the wall over Hope¡¯s shoulder to double check how long it had actually been, and she wasn¡¯t too far off. It had been close to eight hours since he¡¯d wandered into the office and she¡¯d saved his life. Still, it was a short time compared to how long Albert had been gone and how much of his memory he was still missing. Somehow, however, Albert didn¡¯t feel tired. He wasn¡¯t buzzing around like he¡¯d just downed a tall cup of coffee, but he felt like he was still in the middle of his day. Maybe it was because he¡¯d been unconscious for a prolonged period of time and had only woken up close to eight hours ago. At least, that was Albert¡¯s first thought; the rational explanation.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The more likely reason was probably far less rational. And thinking back, though his memories were still just a little fuzzy, Albert remembered a similar feeling after he¡¯d completed his initial contracts to restore his life. It seemed likely that, though the energy would have killed him from being so excessive, that the residual energy of the souls he had carried had been acting like a constant refresher.


    ¡°Have you learned anything else about Pincushion?¡± Hope asked. Albert could tell she was still trying to find something to do that wasn¡¯t work-related. She almost sounded desperate.


    ¡°Not really?¡± Albert looked down to the floor beside the chair he¡¯d taken and found the cat spirit exactly where he expected. She¡¯s faithful, she does things if I ask her, and she probably used my quill to get me here... because I might have asked her? I¡¯m still not entirely sure how that worked ¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡± Hope hummed as she sat back up in her chair, her interest growing. ¡°Can you have her jump up on my desk?¡±


    ¡°Uh sure.¡±


    Albert gave the cat spirit a conflicted look as he debated the riskiness of having it perform too many menial tasks. There was a chance it would get tired of performing like a trained monkey and leave, and that would have been the loss of a serious asset.


    ¡°Could you would you jump up here?¡± Albert tapped the desk as he asked the cat. ¡°Please?¡±


    Without hesitation, as soon as Albert¡¯s hand tapped the desk, Pincushion leapt to the exact spot and sat there. Her attention was solely on Albert. She had acknowledged Hope before, but now the contractor was completely ignored. It was as though by giving her a request, Albert had set her to a different level of obedience for a short time.


    Hope let out a short huff of a breath as she took in the spirit again. ¡°Huh. Neat. And she does ¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a lot of time to test and frankly, I don¡¯t want to risk upsetting her.¡±


    ¡°Smart. Animal spirits and wraiths don¡¯t tend to be so mild-mannered and obedient. push her buttons if that¡¯s what she actually ¡±


    ¡°A wraith?¡±


    ¡°Right, you¡¯re still so  Sometimes I forget because you manage to do the darnedest things like they¡¯re ¡±  seemed like she was intent on laughing the question off, but then her expression grew more serious. But it¡¯s probably something you should keep in mind. There are different kinds of dead things. There are spirits, or half-deads as we call them sometimes, which are the normal manifestations of formerly living things. The morepresence is the best word I can think ofpresence they had in life, the longer they linger after death. Most people, most creatures, don¡¯t linger very long at ¡±


    ¡°And a wraith is¡±


    A wraith is what happens when a lingering presence absorbs a soul or parts of a soul. Wraiths stick around a lot longer than normal spirits, maybe even indefinitelybut they¡¯re usually violent and extremely ¡±


    The mention of danger brought Albert¡¯s eyes from  to . The cat''s expression was vacant, but it was also a cold vacancy. And for once, for just a moment, it truly looked more like an apparition than a cat.


    But spirits can¡¯t harm the living. ¡± Albert asked, looking for confirmation in Hope¡¯s expression. When he received none, he asked again. ¡°Right?¡±


    For a moment, Hope¡¯s eyes were locked on Pincushion as well. The contractor had a dazed and distant look as she scanned the spirit for any sign that it would lash out. But nothing happened.


    After a moment, Hope finally answered. ¡°YesLingering spirits don¡¯t exactly have substance. They¡¯re energy clinging to an intelligence that is quickly losing place in reality. But wraiths are different. They can interact, in a limited fashion, with the world. If they really want to, they can even harm mortals. But they feed on souls. Once a spirit becomes a wraith, they become obsessive usually about lingering in the world longer. So they rend and devour lingering spirits and consume their souls to do that. That little trait makes them uniquely capable of threatening contractors and ¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Hope¡¯s words had come so candidly that Albert didn¡¯t distrust them, but the candor also caused a shock on its own.


    ¡°Do I sound like I¡¯m lying?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s justI think if Pincushion were a wraith, then I¡¯d know by now. She¡¯s just a cat. I mean, she¡¯s a spirit. But of a ¡±


    If she was just a spirit, she¡¯d probably be gone by now. A lot of animals tend to have a lot of presence and linger longer than humans, but even then. She¡¯s been following you for a while now. Whatever she is, she¡¯s not ¡±


    Hope¡¯s statement elicited a meow from the cat spirit. The sound made Hope flinch, but Pincushion didn¡¯t budge an inch.


    ¡°Well, that makes two mysteries latched to me.¡± a   he reclined in his chair. I get a broken mirror and a broken cat. Both, incredibly valuable and dangerous. beyond the reach of my understanding.


    Hope¡¯s expression screwed up at the mention of the mirror. ¡°What do you mean by  You have the full sheet on the mirror; there¡¯s nothing else to know. It¡¯s a broken piece of ¡±


    Her response made Albert chuckle. And, for a moment, he forgot he was talking to an incredibly dangerous and powerful contractor. For a moment, Hope was just a person. But then it sank back in.


    Don¡¯t tell me you actually believe that. There¡¯s no way your dad would care so much if there wasn¡¯t more to ¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s sentimental too.¡± Hope¡¯s expression returned to a similar display as when they¡¯d both left her father¡¯s office. ¡°It reminds him¡±


    ¡°Of Eleanor?¡±


    Don¡¯t ever let him catch you saying her name, or you¡¯re probably as good as dead.¡± Hope cautioned  a hiss. ¡°I¡¯m not particularly fond of the memories of her either, so just forget about it.¡±


    Silence ruled the room after that. Albert stared into Pincushion¡¯s blank spectral eyes as Hope huffed and sighed and spun around slowly in her chair. There was nothing left to do. Albert had ruined his chances of learning more, and Hope didn¡¯t seem interested in conversation. Albert would have left, except there was a lingering fear in his mind that Death still wanted to keep him around for something. He hadn¡¯t been dismissed, and that felt like something that would either happen or he¡¯d be expected to stay in the building until he died.


    Fortunately, a knock at the door signaled a reprieve from the awkward silence. Unfortunately, the knock was soon followed by the voice of Death as he peaked into his daughter¡¯s office.


    ¡°I think I have decided upon a course of action. Would you mind lending me your space, darling? My office is in something of a ¡±


    Death¡¯s words were far more calm than before. Forcibly calmIt was almost comical. But Hope didn¡¯t pay it any mind. She merely waved him into the room and abdicated her seat for him.


    ¡°Thank you, dear. You should head home; the hour is late. I have much to discuss with young Albert about his next assignment.¡±


    ¡°Assignment?¡± Albert was shocked that he was being expected to return to work so quickly, or even at all. But Death definitely had something up his sleeve, and there was no use fighting him when Albert couldn''t tell what it was.


    ¡°Yes, you will be helping me collect a  Come sunrise, the McClellan brothers will be a memory; and their old business will be our new revenue ¡±