Permanent Retainer

Three days later, Chloe was back where she belonged.

She lay comfortably on a plush, King-sized display bed in the Spectral Mattress Firm, wrapped in a fluffy, heavily-threaded comforter. The buzzing fluorescent lights above had been permanently dimmed, replaced by a warm, amber glow.

Footsteps approached. The familiar, rhythmic tap of an obsidian cane echoed through the showroom.

Silas walked up to the side of the bed. He looked slightly different. The severe black suit had been replaced by a pair of dark slacks and—miraculously—a soft gray sweater. He still looked entirely too serious, but the sharp edges of his exhaustion had smoothed out.

"The Bureau wanted to promote you to Head Maiden of the Inner Circle," Silas announced, pulling up a swivel chair from a nearby spectral display desk and sitting down. "They offered a corner office, a staff of fifty clerics, and a platinum badge."

"I assume you told them where they could shove their platinum badge?" Chloe asked from beneath the covers, only her nose and eyes visible.

"I negotiated on your behalf, yes," Silas said, opening a leather-bound folder. "You are officially on permanent retainer. You have no daily duties, no patrols, and no mandatory meetings. In the event of a catastrophic rift failure, you will be called upon. Otherwise, your time is your own."

Chloe smiled beneath the blankets. "And you?"

Silas cleared his throat, looking down at his paperwork. "As the Maiden's official liaison, I have been permanently reassigned to monitor your... well-being. And to ensure your environment remains conducive to maintaining your stabilized aura."

"Translation: You're my designated babysitter," Chloe teased.

"I prefer the term 'Guardian of the Threshold'," Silas retorted, though a faint blush crept up his pale neck. He pulled a spectral pen from his pocket and began signing forms.

Chloe shifted, pulling the comforter down slightly. She patted the edge of the large mattress. "You look tired, Silas. Take a break. The paperwork will be there tomorrow."

Silas stopped writing. He looked at the paperwork, then at the empty side of the vast, comfortable bed. He let out a long breath, a sigh that seemed to release centuries of tension. Slowly, he set the pen down.

"Perhaps," Silas murmured, carefully sitting on the edge of the mattress and leaning his back against the headboard, "a brief pause in administrative duties would be acceptable."

Chloe shifted closer, resting her head lightly against his side. Silas stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing, gently resting his arm around her shoulders.

For the first time since she had died, Chloe didn't just feel lazy. She felt at peace. And as she drifted off to sleep, listening to the steady, rhythmic breathing of the stern warden beside her, she decided that eternity might not be so bad after all.