Chapter 6
1124 Words
REED'S POV
I left before she could ask any more of her annoying questions.
Humans always had questions.
Who are you?
How do you know me?
Why me?
None of them ever asked the question that actually mattered.
What will this cost me?
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I crossed the courtyard.
Evelyn Carter.
This one was different.
Most accepted a bargain because they wanted something.
She’d accepted hers because she refused to believe any of it was real.
I slipped the silver fountain pen from my pocket and turned it over between my fingers.
Old.
Cherished.
Perfect.
Exactly what I needed.
The faculty building loomed ahead.
By the time I reached Professor Morgan’s office, the corridor was almost empty.
I knocked once.
“Come in.”
Thomas Morgan sat behind his desk, his reading glasses resting low on his nose as he searched through the top drawer of his desk.
“Can I help you?” he asked without looking up.
“I believe this is what you're looking for.”
I placed the silver fountain pen on the desk.
His hand froze.
His eyes slowly lifted from the open drawer to the pen.
All the color drained from his face.
“Yes...”
The word escaped him like a breath.
He reached for it with surprising care.
Almost reverence.
His thumb brushed over the engraving.
To Thomas.
Keep writing.
Love, Eleanor.
For several long seconds he simply stared.
His eyes glistened.
“I thought...” He swallowed. “I thought I’d lost it.”
“I know.”
Silence settled between us.
He still hadn’t asked who I was.
Humans rarely did.
Not when grief walked into the room before I did.
I rested one hand against the edge of his desk.
“You miss her.”
His shoulders stiffened.
He didn’t need to answer.
It was written all over him.
“You’ve carried this pen every day for seven years,” I said, my voice almost gentle. “It was the last gift she ever gave you.”
His thumb tightened around the engraving.
"You still carry her."
His thumb stopped moving.
"...In the only way you still can."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He didn’t even seem to notice.
“I imagine...” I said quietly, “there isn’t a day that passes without wishing you could speak to her one last time.”
His breathing became uneven.
“You don’t know anything about my wife.”
The words came out sharper than he'd intended, but the pain behind them was impossible to miss.
“No?” I tilted my head. “Then why do you still wear your wedding ring?”
His hand instinctively moved to it.
“I...”
“You’ve never taken it off,” I said, sparing him the effort of denying it.
Silence.
“I can give you what you’ve spent seven years praying for.”
His eyes snapped back to mine.
There it was... Hope.
The most dangerous emotion of them all.
“What... did you say?”
“One conversation.” I spoke as though I were offering nothing extraordinary.
“One final chance to say everything you never had the opportunity to say.”
His lips parted.
“That’s impossible.”
“So was finding your pen.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then, exactly as I knew he would...
“What would it cost me?”
There it was.
The question every bargain eventually reached.
“The same price everyone pays.” I said as I met his eyes.
His face paled.
“My soul...”
I gave a single nod.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
He looked back down at the fountain pen.
His thumb continued tracing Eleanor’s handwriting as though it alone could answer for him.
“I’ve spent seven years wishing for one more chance.”
His voice cracked.
“Seven years wondering if she knew...”
He stopped himself.
I waited.
Humans always filled silence eventually.
“...how much I loved her.”
“You already know the answer.”
“I do.”
“Then this isn’t for her.” I simply stated the truth. “It’s for you.”
It wasn’t meant to hurt him.
Only to strip away the lie he’d been telling himself.
His breathing faltered.
He knew I was right.
Regret had nothing to do with the dead.
Only the living.
“So...” I said quietly. “Do you want one last conversation?”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
His fingers tightened around the fountain pen until his knuckles turned white.
I could almost see the battle unfolding behind his closed eyes.
Love against reason.
Hope against acceptance.
The man he wanted to be...
...and the man grief had turned him into.
When he opened them again...
The answer was already there.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
It didn’t need to be louder.
I had heard it countless times before.
“Then we have an agreement.” I extended my hand.
For a brief moment, uncertainty returned to his face.
“Will I really see her?”
“If I couldn’t keep my promises,” I replied, “I wouldn’t have a job.”
The corner of his mouth trembled.
Slowly, he placed his hand in mine.
The bargain settled between us like a promise neither of us could take back.
I released his hand.
“Then there’s only one thing left.”
He looked at me expectantly.
A familiar, devilish smile found its way onto my lips.
“To seal the deal.”
...
The office door clicked shut behind me.
Another soul would become mine.
The corridor outside was empty.
I slipped my hands into my pockets and made my way toward the exit as students hurried past without giving me a second glance.
Humans always imagined my work was complicated.
It wasn’t.
I never lied.
I never forced anyone.
I never even asked.
I simply found the one thing they couldn’t bear to live without...
...and waited.
They always chose for themselves.
That was the beauty of free will.
By the time I stepped outside, the afternoon sun had begun sinking behind the old campus buildings.
A cool breeze stirred the fallen leaves across the courtyard.
I glanced toward the library.
The third bench was empty now.
Evelyn had already gone.
Good.
The first task was never about the fountain pen.
It was about crossing the line.
Once a soul discovered it was capable of doing something it had sworn it never would...
Every other time became easier.
I smiled to myself.
Tomorrow would be interesting.
At least for Evelyn Carter.
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