The door of the Mortem Asylum lobby bursts open and icy winds roar inside, swirling around the force of nature that is Lydia Tune. She strides purposefully past the front desk, thoughts focused like a laser on one thing and one thing only.
The woman behind the desk, phone clamped between ear and shoulder, makes a half-hearted attempt with her free hand to get Lydia’s attention, but to no avail. She wrenches back the elevator grate and hits the button with a closed fist, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the ancient mechanism to grind into life.
Once on the second floor, Lydia heads down the now-familiar corridor towards the cavernous east wing where Jason’s cell is housed. The twisted shapes on the walls seem to feed off her energy, writhing and squirming at the very edge of her vision. She grits her teeth and ignores them. They’re not really there, she tells herself. It’s all in your mind.
“Lydia?”
Lydia is so busy ignoring her surroundings that it takes her a few seconds to register that the voice is real.
“Lydia!”
She stops, turns and walks back to the open door from where the voice came. Gretchen is standing in the middle of her office, surrounded by other doctors and looking quite exhausted.
“Gretchen?” says Lydia, alarmed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s okay,” Gretchen replies in a deliberately calm voice.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lydia snaps. “Have you spoken to Jason? What did he say?” She eyes the other doctors in the room warily. “And who are all these people?”
“Please,” Gretchen pleads, “take a breath.”
Lydia opens her mouth to protest, but meets Gretchen’s gaze and thinks better of it. Instead she does as she’s told, takes a long, deep breath and collects her thoughts. The doctor is right, she needs to be clear-headed and in control. The dank, moist air inside the asylum leaves a wooden taste in her mouth and makes her feel ill.
“Alright,” she says finally, “I’m calm. Tell me what’s happening.”
“Well,” says Gretchen, taking Lydia’s arm as the other doctors file out of the room, chattering amongst themselves in low, conspiratorial voices, “you recall from Jason’s case notes that he was sentenced to death, but his lawyer argued insanity and he was transferred here instead?”
“Yes,” Lydia replies, “so what?”
“The governor filed a petition this morning to enforce the original sentence,” says Gretchen.
“What do you mean?” Lydia frowns at her, panic rising from within.
“Jason’s being executed. Today.”
“Today?!” Lydia grabs hold of Gretchen’s desk to steady herself.
“We were all meeting in here to discuss options, since…” Gretchen scratches her head and sighs, “well, we haven’t done this here in a while. Not in my time, anyway.”
“Can’t he appeal?” Lydia asks, her mind working through all the different ways she might be able to help, without stopping to wonder why she wants to.
“No,” says Gretchen. “His guilt was determined already. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But—”
“Lydia,” Gretchen says, firmly. “Listen to me. We still have procedures to go through and the warden won’t be here for another half an hour.” She looks meaningfully at Lydia. “So if there’s anything you need to talk to Jason about, you best do it right now.”
Lydia throws her arms around Gretchen, burying her face in the doctor’s mane of copper hair. “Thank you,” she gasps.
“Don’t thank me,” says Gretchen, pushing her away gently. “Just hurry.”
Lydia glances up at the ticking clock on the wall as she dashes from the office. Time is not her friend. Apparently, it never has been.
*
Giant ceiling fans spin slowly overhead as a uniformed guard escorts Lydia to the cell in the middle of the room. There are more guards than usual today.
“Is this really necessary?” she asks, uncomfortable in the man’s hulking presence.
“Afraid so,” grunts the guard. “Warden’s orders.”
Jason Devere sits on a metal chair facing the bars of his own personal prison. He looks up as Lydia approaches, and she sees that his eyes are pink, and his cheeks raw. He’s been crying. In his hand, something catches the light and glints silver and blue. His mother’s locket, the heart-shaped one Lydia had given to him when she first arrived.
“Time to talk, Jason,” she says coldly. There is no time for sentiment. Theirs is a business relationship now, and she is running out of time to close the deal. “Last chance.”
“What do you want to know?” he asks, in a hollow voice.
“Why did you do it?” asks Lydia.
“Christ,” Jason mutters, “you can’t let anything go, can you?”
“Tick-tock, Jason.” Lydia taps her watch.
“You know,” he says, shoulders slumped in a melancholy fashion, “I never thought it would end like this.”
“How did you imagine it would end?” asks Lydia, impatiently.
“I always imagined that I would die peacefully in my sleep,” Jason replies. He looks up at her and the wolf smile plays around his lips. “Or else go out in a blaze of glory.” He wets his lips. “How about it, Lyd? Wanna help me make it one for the road?”
“You’re disgusting,” Lydia replies.
“And you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow. “We’re all the same sort of animal.”
“If you don’t tell the truth now,” says Lydia, sternly, “then the world will think the worst of you until the end of time. Is that what you want?”
“Does it matter?” Jason shrugs.
“You made a promise,” Lydia reminds him.
“I did,” Jason concedes, nodding his head gently. “You’re right.” He gets slowly to his feet and faces her. “I’ll keep my promise to you, Lydia Tune.”
“Tell me why you killed all those people.”
Jason leans forward, looks her dead in the eye and whispers, “I didn’t.”
“You’re lying,” Lydia snaps. The nearby guard takes a step towards them.
“I’m not,” Jason whispers. “I didn’t do it.”
“Fine,” says Lydia flatly. “Have it your way. Die just another mad serial killer.” She turns to go. “Your mother will be rolling in her grave.”
“You know,” says Jason loudly, “you’ve been far meaner to me than I ever have to you.” Lydia turns and sees the look of hurt and anger on his face. “What do you think that says about you?”
“That you bring out the worst in me.” Lydia glares at him. Jason smiles a sad, hopeless smile.
“You promised me something too,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“You promised to do something for me.”
“Alright,” says Lydia, folding her arms. “Not that you’ve held up your end of the bargain, but what would you have had me do for you?”
“Listen.”
“I am listening.”
“No.” Jason shakes his head. “I want you to really listen to me, like you haven’t since you first got here.”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” says Lydia with a wave of her hand. “Maybe you really are just mad.”
“You will understand soon,” says Jason, calmly. He has an odd look about him now that Lydia finds unsettling. He seems at peace. Serene. “My death will trigger events that nobody will be able to stop,” he says. A chill creeps up Lydia’s spine. “And only you will be able to make sense of them.”
“Me?” Lydia stares at him in disbelief. “Why me?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You will have to see the truth with your own eyes.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
“I will give you the answers I promised,” says Jason, leaning against his bars and peering at her through strands of lank, greasy hair. “But only in death.”
“Stop speaking in riddles.”
“They’re only riddles if you’re not really listening,” Jason shoots back. “You’re a smart woman, Lydia Tune,” he smirks, “but you’re going to need to learn to think like a monster if you want your answers.” He tilts his head to the side. “If you want to live.”
“Then help me,” demands Lydia. “You’re the monster, aren’t you? Tell me how I’m supposed to figure this out!”
The heavy jangling of keys makes her look around to see a pair of guards approaching from the door.
“Looks like our time is up,” says Jason, calmly. Lydia stands and stares, dumbfounded, as the guards unlock Jason’s cage and step inside, shock batons raised. “No need, gentlemen,” he says, turning around and crossing his hands behind his back ready to be cuffed. “I’ll come quietly. Just bring pen and paper wherever it is that you’re taking me. I have a promise to keep.” They bind him tight, then half lead, half drag him from the cage. Jason keeps smiling the whole time, as if the whole thing is a joke and only he has been let in on it.
“Wait. Wait!” Lydia calls out as the guards heave him past her. “Tell me, please. Tell me what I need to know.” For a fleeting second, she is close enough to smell the wolf’s pelt, and it’s only now she notices that Jason is wearing his mother’s locket around his neck, tucked into his dirty vest. Her eyes flick from it to his face, and some unspoken message passes between them. Though she doesn’t yet know what it means.
“Stay back, miss,” grunts one of the guards, easing her away with his massive forearm.
Jason’s voice carries back to her as he’s carried away towards the door. “Good luck, Lydia Tune.”
A moment later he is gone, the heavy steel door crashing shut behind him. In fact, all of the guards have gone. Nothing left for them to do here, Lydia realises. She turns and stares at the empty cell as the fan spins slowly high above.