Page 8 of Where the Light No Longer Follows

“Kindly,” she added.

“There we are,” he cooed, a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips. “Tomorrow, I want to hear every unkind thought you have for me.”

“That meeting could be a letter. A very long letter, but I suppose I’d be able to find just enough paper to squeeze in the most important stuff.”

“I’m more of a people person.” He threw her a wink. “I will see you tomorrow, Silene.”

Faster than she could react, the back of his fingers grazed hers as he went past.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was gone, taking the stairs leisurely.

The spot over her knuckles where he’d touched had turned a deep purple bruise that felt sore when she raised her other shaking hand to touch the skin that still felt warm from the forbidden contact.

Nothing could hurt Silene.

Nothing but him.

Nothing could ever make Silene feel human again.

Nothing but him.

She could not allow him to get any closer.

“Are you glaring or staring?” he shouted over the deafening music when she remained rooted on the spot, watching him.

“Neither,” she shouted back.

“Admiring?”

“Wishing.”

“Wishing for what?”

“For you to take a tumble down those stairs,” she muttered to herself, and then offered him the sweetest fake smile she could muster when he looked at her over his shoulder.

To her chagrin, he offered her a real one back. “Heard that.”

Her lip tipped in a sneer and she wretched her attention from him just as the timekeeper in her hand started ticking once again. She sighed, smacking the lid shut and turning to the woman laying lifeless on the sofa. Her spirit stood right above her body, watching down on herself.

“Hi,” Silene started, beginning to recite the same script she had memorised the first day she had been made to serve Death. “My name is Silene. You and I will take a little trip.”

“A trip? Trip to where?” Jenny asked, hugging both arms around her unfeeling self. But just like a lost limb, even souls could feel the phantom pains of death a little after they had died. Silene knew it well. For her own phantom pains had lingered a while. Maybe they still did.

“Not far. Not near. A place you’ve always been close to, but just far enough.”

Gabriel had retired to his home earlier than he had planned to, only so he could watch her.

The penthouse he shared with the grumpiest old man he knew overlooked the river invisible to the human eyes that coincidentally flowed over a busy street between two skyscrapers and disappeared down a square.

Tommy, his cat, scratched the glass wall, unbearably patient as always.

“In a minute, you old idiot,” Gabriel muttered. “She will be there in a minute. You know she loves to chat them up first.” He chuckled. “Probably telling the girl what a dick I am.”

And like he’d predicted, she walked alongside the girl’s soul, chatting about with her, the both of them laughing as Silene helped her onto the small boat that would take her to Asphodel.

He watched her wave at the girl’s soul as the boat disappeared further down the non-ending river until it entered a body of mist that separated the worlds.

Silene remained rooted there, waiting for another boat for almost half an hour. She did not turn or look or take a walk. Patiently, she waited there, in one spot, hands laced at her front, not moving an inch. As did he. Frozen there at his window, he simply stared at her.