“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—no 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.”

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“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—or any human life for that matter—was 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?