Arthur walked back to his desk and sat down. He looked for the pen he couldn’t find.
Jane said, “It’s in the top left drawer. You put it there yesterday.”
“Oh! That’s right!”
Jane watched as Arthur opened the drawer and dug out his pen. He would need it to sign the will he had spent the last hour typing up. Arthur Toaves knew that he was going to die and he knew that Jane Elring was going to kill him. It made her very sad.
Arthur began to scribble his signature underneath each sheet. When he reached the end of the stack he looked up at Jane.
“Are you certain you don’t want some help? You could use the money once you go on the run. It doesn’t have to be traceable,” he offered.
Jane brushed his concerns aside. “No. Really, I couldn’t. How could I?”
“I hold no ill will against you, Jane. You have done right by Ellie, and you are doing right by Brettville. If an old man has to die to stop this madness, that is not your fault, is it?”
Jane shook her head. If only it were that simple. If only she were the good person Arthur Toaves believed she was. Jane knew she was a manipulator, a trickster, a liar. To also take the old man’s money? That would just be in poor taste, adding insult to injury.
“No, Arthur. You do with that money what needs doing. I will be fine,” she said firmly.
Would she be fine? Jane Elring, who knew everything about everybody, had never been so unsure in her entire life.
Downstairs, an emotionally crippled, overweight, retired black ops soldier waited for the elite team that was coming to get her within the next half hour. Before that team arrived, she had to delve into Arthur’s mind and tear out an ancient demon that wouldn’t exactly go willingly. As her reward for that, she got to kill an old man she respected and electrical currents would run through her spine.
Arthur asked, “Are you frightened, Jane?”
“I am.”
“I’m afraid too,” the old man confessed. “I’ve made some peace with my death, but I can’t come to terms with the idea of not being. Not existing.”
“I know you don’t believe in the afterlife, Arthur. I wish I could say something to make it easier for you.”
The old man gently shook his head before signing the final sheet of paper on his desk. Carefully he placed it on the bottom of the stack. Then, he looked up at Jane and she didn’t have to read his mind to sense his fear.
“Will you help Ellie, Jane? She will blame herself again for all of this, I think.”
“Ellie will be fine. I promise.” Jane said it without knowing if it was true. She said it to put his mind at ease, she told herself. Maybe she only said it because that would make her job easier.
“Are you ready then, Arthur?”
The old man tried to force out a smile, only to have it turn into a ghastly grimace that summarized the situation perfectly. He was going to die, very soon, by the hands of a psychic detective who wanted to pull an ancient demon from his head. Yesterday life had still seemed somewhat normal.
“Do you want to do it in your chair?” Jane asked. Then she gestured to the green sofa that stood against the left wall of the office. “Or over there maybe? What’s most comfortable?”
Arthur took a deep sigh before he said, “No. In the chair. I’d like to watch out of my window as I go. I want to see the waving pines and the green fields around my mansion. Maybe the horses are still out? Ellie loves the horses.”
Without a word Jane walked over to the old man and rolled the office chair toward the window. Through it came a few modest rays of sunlight, understated as if they knew what was going to happen. As if they wanted to grant a sense of warmth to this very cold situation.
“Is this okay, Arthur?” she asked.
“This is perfect. Thank you, Jane. For everything.”
Jane shook her head, knowing that the old man couldn’t see her. Once she started this final act there was no going back.
“Will it hurt, Jane?”
“No. Not at all, Arthur. It will be like falling asleep. You’ll dream for a little bit… they’ll be nice dreams… and then it just ends.”
The old man said nothing.
“Arthur? Why don’t you tell me about one of your favorite memories? As a child, maybe, or when you were in college?”
It was the kindest way she could do this, Jane thought. To have him drift off amidst the ocean of one final, pleasant memory. To make his last moment one of silent and peaceful reflection.
A silent fear dominated Arthur’s throat and there was so much sadness and regret inside of him. He hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t done enough. There were still years that he had expected to fill out. Plans to be seen to fruition. He didn’t think he had the voice to tell Jane anything.
“Just that one final memory, Arthur….” Jane’s voice broke through the dark clouds inside the old man’s head. “Do you remember Suzy?”
Arthur remembered Suzy. Her pale skin and dark hair. Her soft touch. Her wet lips. As a young man he had discovered entire worlds with her, without them ever leaving the bedroom.
“Tell me about Suzy, Arthur.”
Arthur could smell Suzy. He could feel her now sitting on his lap, whispering naughty words in his ear. The world around him didn’t exist anymore. His world was Suzy now. Her hair. Her face. Her neck. Her breasts. Her small belly button. Her vagina. Her ass. Her legs. Her feet. Her toes. Her shadow.
The last thing Arthur saw before he closed his eyes was the painting that surrounded his mansion. The pines that waved their final farewell at him, looking adoringly at the green fields that stretched out against their feet. A single horse galloped through those fields, as if to bid his master a final adieu.
The last thing Arthur heard before he closed his eyes was the beautiful symphony of the October wind rustling through the trees. It was accompanied by birds singing their most precious melodies, reserved only for the worthiest of occasions.
The last thing Arthur felt before he closed his eyes wasn’t the regret or the desperation that came from unfinished plans and desires. It wasn’t the pain of a misspent youth.
Very skillfully Jane avoided all the dark traps people laid down for themselves and gave Arthur only the love that existed for him. It was in abundance, generated by an entire community of misfits and rejects that had been granted that one second chance they needed.
That love, which was most worthy precisely because it was born from loyalty and admiration, filled Arthur Toaves until he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
That was how Arthur Toaves died. Alone, in his office, with a perfect stranger that was killing him. Not alone, comforted by a warmth and love so great that most men had to spend several lifetimes to gather it.
Jane wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She had just undergone the most devastating five minutes of her life. She had killed the best man she had ever met. Perhaps the only good man she had ever known. It filled her with despair to think how rare such men were and that she had just taken one from a world that needed them the most.
“Come on,” she told herself with a broken voice. “This isn’t over. It’s only just beginning.”
She had separated Baal from Arthur’s mind and taken the life force that kept the old man’s body going. With Arthur Toaves dead, Baal could no longer stay.
Where would he go? The answer was clear to Jane Elring. She had created the extra room for him inside her mental house. Now she only had to drag him in there.
Jane closed her eyes and forced herself to fall asleep.
Five… four… three… two… one…. Goodnight….
When she opened her eyes again she was in the darkness of her mental house. Only this time she couldn’t afford to be blind to what was going on inside. Turning on the light meant seeing everything. All her thoughts, all her feelings, all her fears and anxieties and regrets and sadness. All her trauma—she had a lot of it—would attack her on sight.