I felt there should have been more of a reaction but Hope just took the contract back, signed it herself and put it in her purse. There were no rays of light, no cosmic alignment, no sudden realization of inner peace, no nothing. I was still just Albert William Carroll, amateur writer. The only difference was that now I was an employee of Death, and probably wasn’t dying any time soon. I looked around the room but it looked the same too. Hope and Amy looked completely normal as well, like a serious decision hadn’t just been made.

“Now what? You guys leave and I just start writing again?” I asked, completely confused.

“Of course not,” Hope laughed lightly. “You move in to Dad’s den with us, all of his… employees are there, so I figure you should probably be there too. It’s not contractually implicit, but I think it’ll help you.”

“Den?” I immediately pictured a hole in the ground, but something told me they had slightly better living conditions. “You want me to live in a den at your, what, you guys probably have some massive mansion or something.” I was confused.

“It’s just what we call the place where a contractor and those under their employ stay, ours is just a house. We have a lot of funny terms for things like that, it starts out confusing but you get used to it.”

“That’s it then? That’s my life?”

“It’s what you wanted right?” Amy laughed, her laugh was more sarcastic. “It’s really not that different from the life of a real author, only here, your publisher doesn’t own your soul, and you probably won’t fall into self-destructive habits since, you know, you’re still as good as dead.”

"Ha ha." I grumbled dryly. "So where is this place?"

"Well... it isn't… exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean? It isn't exactly what?"

"It doesn't exactly exist is what she means." Amy chimed in. "It’s like..."

"Like this." Hope grabbed my shoulder and I was instantly somewhere else.

The room we had appeared in was a well-furnished Victorian style lounge. Everything looked expensive, and if there was dust it probably would've looked expensive too. Normally when estimating an object’s value I compare it to the object next to it, but everything looked expensive, so everything probably was.

"Be right back." Hope disappeared for a second and reappeared almost immediately after with Amy by her side. It made sense that the vanishing act was a contractor only thing.

"So what do you think?" Hope gestured to the decor.

"It looks... expensive.” It took me a moment before I realized something. “It looks real, too. So how does it not exist?”

“You are no longer in the living world.” I walked over to a window and pulled back the curtain. There was a large pine forest growing around the house, at least in the direction I could see.

“Looks like the real world.”

“The spirit world is in the real world,” Hope said walking over to the window. “Just on the other side of what people see… the dead side. The only living things on this side are contractors, their affiliates, and stranded souls. Stranded souls don’t really count as living though.”

“Where’s everyone else then?”

“It’s hard to say, contractors don’t like to share where their dens are. I know when we find another den, we raid it. Strictly business of course.” I doubted it, though it was probably best not to voice that opinion.

“So where do I stay?” I asked, backing away from the window.

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“There's really only one door per room, you put your hand on the doorknob and it opens to where you want to go.” Hope explained. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was only one door in the room. She put her own hand on the doorknob to demonstrate. “For instance, the library.” She opened the door to a dark room that exuded the odor of old paper and dust. I could barely see a bookshelf not too far in. She closed the door and the smell was instantly gone. “Go ahead.” She motioned me over to the door.

“I just put my hand on the handle and think: my room?” I felt stupid saying it, it sounded like a pretty simple system.

“That’s what I just said isn’t it?” Hope laughed.

I put my hand on the doorknob, the memory of leaving Death’s office before came to my mind. I didn’t want to go there, so I tried to think of my room back at the apartment. The doorknob felt warmer for a second and then the door creaked open. It looked like my old room, except the computer was gone and where my bed used to be there was a big bookshelf with two books on the middle shelf. There was a note sticking out from in between them.

“Looks like Dad let you keep the typewriter and copies of your books.” Hope walked over to the note and read it aloud. “I look forward to the day that you fill this entire shelf. Until then, you can start with these two.” I picked the books up. Seeing my name on the spine made me excited, something I hadn’t felt in a while. Chess Piece and Dear Death by A.W. Carroll.

“Nice place.” Amy commented from the doorway.

"We'll let you get situated then." Hope walked out practically dragging Amy behind her. With the door closed I could see the corner that had been hidden behind it. In the apartment that particular patch of wall had been bare, but here there was a mirror on the wall. It was the same old and jagged looking piece of glass that had been hanging in the room Death had put me in the first time. It still didn't show my reflection, just the same dangling rose floating in a black abyss.

The door opened behind me as I was staring into it. I couldn’t really feel it hit me in the back, but I did move forward a bit.

"Al?" Amy closed the door behind her as she walked in. "I'd say I was sorry but it didn't really hurt, did it?" She was right, it didn't hurt at all.

"What's up?" I checked around but I couldn't see Hope. "You're here alone?"

"I wanted to explain some things." I had been waiting for this. "Like why I’ve done some of the stuff I've done..."

"Like kissing me?"

"Yeah, don't take this the wrong way, but I had to do that. Hope was getting suspicious that I was doing something with you behind her back. I needed to make her think that it was something innocent... or at least mundane."

"Why are you helping me out so much? My mother, advice, the contract, lying to Hope for me, enduring her sick punishments for me. Why?"

"Death wants something from you. He doesn't just pick up poor kids souls from off the street. Hope’s probably aware of this on some level as well, but I don't think she realizes that it's a big deal. I'm helping you because I'm worried something is going on."

"How is Death wanting something dangerous?"

"Think about it, someone as powerful as him wants something and he's going about it in a roundabout way, isn't that just a bit suspicious?"

"I suppose that makes sense, but if he can't kill you why are you worried?" I thought it through before she could answer. "Unless he wants something that could kill you?"

"Not that he's particularly interested in killing me specifically, but if he gets any more power it's possible he could kill anyone he wants on a whim."

"What could I have that could possibly do that though?"

"I thought it would be some spiritual property, something you could have inherited without knowing. Which is why I wanted you to be more careful with your contract, but he didn't seem all that phased by your alteration so much as he was upset that you tricked Hope." Amy started to circle the room, looking at random objects. "I wanted to check your room just in case, but it doesn't look like that much has changed."

"Yeah other than the bookshelf, typewriter, and mirror it’s pretty much the same."

"Mirror?" Amy looked around until she locked on to the ugly shard of glass. She stared into it for a few seconds and laughed lightly.

"What is it?" I was a little concerned.

"It’s just a trick mirror, it doesn't reflect anything. They're fairly common, people used to contract for “truth showing” mirrors a lot back in the day. I think even Death got one. It’s probably been passed down a few generations for you to have inherited it though."

"So I'm safe?"

"I won't say yes, but it's possible. Unlikely, but possible. Just don't give him anything he asks for right away." She walked over to the door.

"Thank you. I still don't think you're telling me everything, but thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, not if you know I'm hiding something." She opened the door and walked out.

It may have passed a cursory inspection from Amy, but if she wasn’t seeing what I was seeing, something fishy was going on with the mirror. I took the mirror off the wall, careful not to cut my hands on the jagged edges, and put it under a pile of papers on my desk. I would need a better hiding spot, but that would do. No such thing as being too careful.