"No, wait!" Amanda cowered, holding up her arms defensively. "Can't we talk about this?"
"Why?" He swung the sword in a horizontal arc, leaving a circle of black soot on the ceiling. "If what you say is true and I'm a figment of your subconscious, then your apparent death will free you from me altogether." He grinned. "Mind you, if you're wrong and I'm as real as a teapot, my chopping off your head will release your spirit and allow it to move on to whatever afterlife it expects. It's win-win as far as I can tell."
"But what if you're real and so is this state I'm in?"
"Then by either definition you're an abomination. Nothing should come back as itself, only dead."
"But if I exist, do vampires? Ghosts? Skeletons?"
"Yes to all three, though skeletons can only be animate if you wire all the joints together and move them like a puppet. Now hold still and this will all be over in a moment."
"No!" She backed away, running into the bathroom and bolting the door. She thought it was running, though to Jasfoup it was more of a hurried shamble. He sauntered along after her.
"Do make your mind up," he said. "I don't have all day."
"If I choose to believe you, it means I am a spirit possessing my own corpse?"
"I thought we'd already established that. Yes." Jasfoup could see her even through the solid door. He could decapitate her at any point. What was three inches of solid oak to a celestial sword? Not that it was oak. This was a cheaply built apartment. At best the door would be two layers of hardboard over a pine frame and stuffed with corrugated cardboard. "Though to be fair, it's not a matter of choice but of belief, and possession is a demonic act, not a spiritual one."
"I'm a demon?"
"No, but you'll be treated like one."
"Then I choose to remain as I am." Amanda flung open the door. "I'm a legal secretary and I happen to know that possession is nine-tenths or the lore."