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"You are very special to me, Milos," she told him. "You are every bit my equal, and Im glad we found each other. "
Even in the stark slanted light, she could see that he was blushing. "So then . . . shall I spend some time with you in this body?"
"No," Mary told him. "Ive spent enough time in this body. " In fact, she realized, it had been more than enough. She did not want to endure another day in the dread place called the living world. This week had been horrible--but in a way, it had been a gift to her. It made her realize just how desperately all the people who suffered from life needed to be freed from it. She would free every single one of them if she could--and maybe someday soon shed be in a position to do it. Not just a hundred, or a thousand, but all of them! She would not rest until no one on earth was left alive.
Of course, just as with bringing down the bridge, it would take planning and precision to bring an end to the world of flesh once and for all, and allow Everlost to take its place . . . but if it was ever to happen, then it had to start today. Not with a thousand souls, but with one.
"I want you to do something for me, Milos," Mary said. "Theres a switchblade in your pocket. . . . " Milos reached into Betos pocket, pulled it out, and opened it. The blade caught the glare of the streetlight at the end of the alley, casting a long, sharp shadow against the brick wall.
"I dont belong in the living world, Milos. I belong in Everlost. I belong with you. "
When Milos realized what she was suggesting, his hand began to shake, and she gently touched it to steady it.
"Are you . . . sure about this?"
"More sure than anything. "
"But you will go into the light. "
"No--because youll catch me, and stop me. "
"But then you will fall asleep. You will sleep and you wont wake up for nine months. . . . "
"And youll protect me while Im sleeping, wont you, Milos?"
Milos took a slow, deep breath, then he nodded. "Yes, I will," he finally told her. "And I promise I will be waiting for you when you awake. "
"I believe you," Mary told him. "I trust you. " But then something troubling occurred to her.
Milos must have read it in her eyes, because he said, "Do not worry about this fleshie. He was kind to you, and so I will make certain that your body of flesh is never found, and he will never know what he has done. "
Mary smiled. "You think of everything, dont you?"
"It is something I learned from you. "
Milos looked to both ends of the alley to make sure they were unobserved, before lowering the blade to her chest. It still quivered in his hand, so he tightened his grip until the blade was still. Then in that lonely alley in the living world, Megan Mary McGill put her arms over Miloss shoulders, feeling the steel tip of the blade lightly pierce her new satin gown, just barely touching the skin above her heart. She looked into his eyes until she could see Milos behind the face of the security guard, and then she commanded in a powerful, impassioned whisper:
". . . Bring me home, my love. . . . "
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