A Matter of Agency

by Eldritch Thrum

Table of Contents

Table of Contents
parts: 1, 2, 3

conclusion

When Mr. Moen opened the door to the attic from the narrow passageway, he found Linnea sitting there, facing him, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees, rocking gently to and fro. Beside her lay the hornets’ nest and her blue-rimmed glasses. He shut the image of his daughter from his mind.

“I’ve been waiting, Mr. Moen, and I’m ready,” she said, straightening her back and shoulders to accentuate her dignified tone.

“Then I shall not keep you waiting any longer, Miss Riber,” he smiled, setting the bag in front of her but opening it to where she could not see inside.

He set before her a small mason jar, in which crawled what appeared to Linnea to be a thick, black worm with four short, sharp spikes along the length of its body.

“Your parents have told me of your fascination with and impressive knowledge of arthropods, but I do believe this one will be unknown to you. There are only three in existence.”

“What’s that black sticky stuff oozing from it?”

“That is its venom.”

“Does it hurt, Mr. Moen?”

Although she looked nothing like his daughter, the agent wanted to hold Linnea, to comfort her as the man who had stolen his family had held and comforted Katla after taking the blood from her hand and pushing the water hemlock down her throat.

“It will be oh-so painless. The worst it can do is make you want to sleep. It will do this quickly, and you must not resist.”

The agent picked up the jar, removed the lid, and upturned it, placing the open end onto her outstretched arm. “As you feel yourself falling to sleep, you must imagine yourself flying, like a hornet, through this space, through the passageway, through the basement, and then back again, over and over.”

“Like a ghost?”

“Like a happy... a happy butterfly.” Tears threatened to form in the corners of his eyes. “Now, will you promise to do this?”

“I promise.”

He watched as her eyelids began to sag. “Then our Lord will be blessed this day by your faith, Linnea Riber! Sleep now, and enjoy your new home, forever!”

When her body began to lean heavily to the left, the agent caught her shoulder and guided her body to the floor, holding her right arm aloft so that the ever-secreting instrument of her death would not be crushed beneath her.

With a large spoon he collected the worm and its remaining venom, slid them into the jar, returned the jar to his bag, and left through the attic hatch, thinking only of Katla.

* * *

“So many colors!” Telah stood at the dining room window that overlooked the back yard: a long, narrow strip of grass flanked by a dense forest of maples, birches, pines, hickories, and hundreds of other species pushing their autumn limbs over the lawn.

Kael wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You’re trembling. Are you cold?” she asked.

The agent — now standing in the kitchen, which opened to the main living room and dining room — cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, but there is not much time. The children are secure. Have you selected your spaces?”

“Kitchen, dining room, living room,” Telah answered, “but at this window. Together.”

The agent looked up at the exposed wooden ceiling beams above the table. An extension ladder from the garage leaned against the wall.

After surveying the rooms, admiring the high ceiling and rustic design, he pulled the ropes from his bag as Telah and Kael repositioned the table and chairs.

“I suppose you’ll move these back when it’s over?” Kael asked, a slight quaver in his voice.

“Mr. Riber, everything in this house will appear as it did before we arrived. That is in my contract. You need not worry. In addition to being a quality agent, I suffer rather severely from obsessive-compulsive disorder.” He grinned, pulling the loop on the right-hand side of the bow.

Kael extended the ladder to rest against one of the center beams.

“And as a quality agent, I am obligated to remind you that there are other means by which you can claim these spaces. The children, for example—”

“Mr. Moen,” Telah interrupted, “I’m sure you know this, but my parents came to the faith when I was in college; this is the way they claimed their forever home. Kael’s family claimed their home the same way, but without him. I suppose we feel it’s only right to honor a family tradition, at least for the two of us. We decided this a long time ago.”

“Of course. As I say, I am here to effectuate — not affect — your decision.”

He then climbed the ladder, fastened each rope to a perpendicular ceiling joist, and let them unfurl until the nooses hung several feet above their heads. When Mr. Moen descended and stepped from the ladder, Telah began her ascent, but Kael remained. He gripped the agent’s forearm abruptly, his eyes reddened by tears.

“We won’t... ever... see them, hold them...” he stammered. “Will we?”

The agent took Kael’s hand into his own, smiled, and spoke softly.

“I know this has been your fear, Mr. Riber: letting go of your family. I also know that your mother, stepfather, and sisters claimed their home without you and that you found their bodies postmortem.”

Kael’s eyes widened.

“My agency is thorough, Mr. Riber, and prudent. Yet you must know our Lord is good, that He would not require such sacrifice without reward. Although your children will claim spaces apart from you and Mrs. Riber, the form indicates that ‘the spaces within the house are claimed solely for the purpose of revealing the claimant’s spectral presence to the next physical inhabitants of the house.’ Beyond this, our Lord wills your family to remain together, not apart. You will soon be with your children, as they will be with you both. Forever.”

Conscious of the hour and confident of the effect of his words upon his client, the agent placed Kael’s hand on the rung of the ladder and stepped away.

Kael nodded, smiled, and then followed Telah. When they reached the nooses, they turned carefully to position themselves side by side.

The agent cleared his throat.

“First, allow me to thank your family for engaging my agency. It has been an honor to know and to serve you. Now, before you descend, you must focus your spirits on flying through this dining room, kitchen, and living room in perpetuity. Do you promise this?”

“We do,” they both answered.

“Then our Lord will be blessed this day by your faith, Telah and Kael Riber! Enjoy your new home, forever!”

Their faith etched into skin, soon into spirit, they exhaled, kissed, took each other’s hand, and stepped from the ladder. As they fell, they did not let go.

* * *

Having waited the required period for the spirits of his clients to exit their bodies and claim their respective parts of the house, and after scanning the forms to the agency, thereby closing the transaction, the agent then covered the corpses with lambswool blankets and transported each in succession to the back of his car.

He locked the front door of the house and turned onto the stone walkway. A musky-sweet waft of air met him as he reflected on each form placed neatly but separately within the pages of the book, over which he uttered an ancient prayer.

When he reached the vehicle, he found several convolvulus hawk-moths had taken the liberty of occupying his windshield, the slow sway of their wings beseeching him to respond.

“Well, my fluttery friends, do you wonder why old Moen has not retired by now?” He gave them a moment to consider the question, but then answered for them.

“The commission, you downy little demons! The commission!”

And as he turned and drove down the long, tree-lined path, the moths tumbled into the slipstream and hovered just beyond the taillights.