Milo...Blood

      By Pattie Lawler             

 

            Milo practically fell into Simon’s arms as he left Fanny’s door Simon grunted under the weight and dragged Milo toward his room. “Stay with me.”

            “Work fast,” Milo murmured, eyes closed. “I’ve bled into my glove.”

            “Less mess.”

            “But no less pain.”

            “Stitches?”

            “I’ll leave that up to you.”

            His words faded as Simon lowered him onto the bed. “I said stay awake!”

            “No, Simon. I give the orders.”

            “Fine. Just keep talking.”

            “It’s amazing what we do for them.”

            “And they never appreciate it.”

            Milo’s chuckle became a gasp as Simon worked his jacket off. When he was again prone, Milo cracked an eye open. “And how is Justin?”

            “Depends on who you ask; I say he’s fine, the ex says he needs braces.” Simon pulled a penlight from Milo’s jacket pocket and turned the beam on his bloody arm. “Yes, stitches.”

            “Thought so.” Milo’s eyes sank closed.

            Simon shook him. “Is this the point where I lecture you about residual magic?”

            “I know, I know. I’m trying. Honest.”

            “Why didn’t you dose yourself?”

            “Threw...it.

            Simon patted the jacket pocket and noted the lack of cayenne. He rose, eyeing the display of towels beside the bathroom door. He had brought his bag of equipment from the limo’s trunk and now placed it beside Milo. The addition of some towels, one damp, and the base of a flower pot were all the preparations he could make.

Reviewing past exploits as he opened the bag and pulled out scissors, he reminded himself that he had done more with less when it came to patching Milo. He lifted the shallow, clay basin, placing it below Milo’s hand and pulled the sodden glove off. The resulting fall of blood overflowed the pot. Mentally cursing, Simon carried it into the bathroom and poured the dark fluid down the drain. The stench of hot rust filled his nose and he locked his jaw before turning back to Milo.

Who was sitting up, watching him with eyes wide.

“Damn!” Simon dropped the basin and ran for the bed as the door opened. Changing directions, he threw himself at the door to protect Fanny and ran into Lawrence.

Lawrence jerked back. “What is it?”

“The demon’s cut has become a gateway.”

Lawrence paled. “But how?”

Simon pulled him into the room, closed and locked the door. “He used his cayenne on the demon.”

Lawrence pointed and Simon whirled to face Milo.

Beside the bed, a spiral of black mist was forming into a funnel whose distant tip seemed to pass through the wall of the inn and disappear into space.

“I’ve never dealt with demons,” Lawrence whispered, reaching for his gun.

Simon pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. “They’re slightly faster and slightly stronger than us, but with luck, you’ll never experience them. Take these.”

Lawrence holstered his gun and scooped up the coins.

“Throw one into the void every ten seconds. I’ll work on Milo.”

“What am I doing?” Lawrence threw a coin as hard as he could and watched as it entered the darkness, hesitated for a second, and then sped into the funnel.

“Deterring visitors.”

“How?”

Simon ducked under the next coin and pushed Milo back. Kneeling beside the bed, he picked up the scissors and slit Milo’s sleeve to the shoulder. “While silver would be the best thing to use, the combinations of metals in the coins stinks enough to keep the unholy at bay.”

“None of the books tell you that, ya know.”

“That’s because you have to be a Demon Eater before they let you in on trade secrets.”

“I can see eyes in the mist.”

“Just keep throwing coins.”

Lawrence quickly exhausted both Simon’s supply and the handful he carried. “We’re out,” he announced, watching as the glowing, yellow eyes in the darkness grew larger, closer, and were joined by another pair, and then another. “We’re going to have company!”

Simon grunted as he used the damp towel to wipe away as much blood as he could, taking care not to apply pressure to the ragged skin. When Milo flinched, Simon snatched up the penlight and shone it on the wound.

The gleam of metal shone in the scarlet gash.

Reaching in the bag, Simon pulled out tweezers and carefully extracted a quarter-sized silver coin from the wound. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Lawrence drew his gun.

“He used a coin. No wonder the gateway took so long to form.”

“That musta hurt like crazy.”

Looking down into Milo’s pale face, Simon was once again in awe of his employer’s ability to think on his feet. “You’re incredible,” he murmured before looking up. “The coin’s out now, so that gateway’s going to get really big, really fast.”

Even as he spoke, a long-horned demon materialized on the opposite side of the bed.

Lawrence aimed at its shoulder and fired. The demon staggered back, glared at the wound and looked at Lawrence.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“It’s a warning. Go back, or the next shot will be somewhere vital.”

The demon spat into his hand, displayed the bloody bullet and flicked it at Lawrence. “Make me!”

Lawrence ducked under the bullet. The demon leapt onto his shoulders and rode him to the floor.

Simon put them out of his mind and focused on Milo. Lawrence would need help soon but Milo needed it now. Blows—flesh on flesh—grunting and furniture being battered were the soundtrack Simon worked to. He cleaned and sterilized the wound, doused it with cayenne, and found a needle and sutures just as a goat-horned demon entered the room.

Followed by another.

Simon dropped everything, leapt over the bed and punched the demon in the gut. The creature doubled over his fist and Simon shoved him into the arms of the third demon. This demon hurled his companion to the floor and rushed Simon. The bodyguard avoided the first punch and landed a few body blows before the demon turned the tide and pummeled him.

“Get the Demon Eater!” One of the demons shouted.

“Touch him and I'll kill you!” Alistair bellowed.

Everyone turned to gape at the newcomer. The young demon stood beside the still unconscious Milo, the Angel's Finger scabbard in his hands. In the stunned silence, the click of the snaps that held the sword in the scabbard seemed thunderous as Alistair popped them open. Simon was about to advise him against it, when he gripped the pommel and yanked.

His hand came away with a bladeless hilt. The four demons gaped. Simon used the momentary lull to throw a handful of cayenne at the closest couple. They staggered, coughing and weak-kneed.

“Lawrence!” Simon drew his gun and fired at the long-horned demon who had escaped the cayenne.   Lawrence dropped to one knee, ejected his spent cartridge and reloaded.

Alistair threw the hilt on the bed, lunged, caught Lawrence under the arm and dragged him away.

“Thanks. Who are you?”

“Alistair Maricourt. My father fought Milo earlier.”

“And you’re helping us why?”

Alistair jerked his head toward the door. “For Fanny.”

Lawrence had to make due with this enigmatic answer as the three demons regrouped.

“What do you think you’re doing, Maricourt?” Goat-horned demanded.

“Taking care of personal business, Darius. Go home and you won’t be hurt.”

Darius and the others laughed. “Your father couldn’t take down the Demon Eater, why should we be afraid of—?” He gestured toward the empty bed.

Milo stood beside Alistair, the glowing Angel's Finger in his bare hand. “You were saying?”

The three demons recoiled and the one on the left edged closer to the door. Simon and Lawrence leveled their handguns at the trio.

“Now,” Milo continued, raising the sword, “you can leave the way you came or you can leave on the edge of my sword.” He bent his knees and rose onto the balls of his feet, ready to spring. “What’s it going to be?”

They exchanged fearful glances. “You’re bluffing. Look at you! You can barely stand!”

“Oh? Care to test that assertion?”

The long-horned demon dove for the swollen vortex and disappeared. The remaining two glanced at one another and then followed. Milo watched them vanish before stabbing the Angel’s Finger into the heart of the portal. The black spiral slowed, paused, and then contracted around the blade. The wan glow faded, taking the blade and the blackness with it. In a minute, Milo was holding nothing but the hilt before he fell face first onto the bed.

Simon holstered his gun and gestured to Alistair for help turning Milo over. “You’re the demon’s son,” he said as they worked.

Alistair nodded. “Alistair Maricourt. I met Milo in the lounge tonight.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have left him,” Simon groused, picking up the fallen sutures.

Lawrence stood over the medical bag and dropped in the spent bullet casings. “The silver coin kept the gateway from forming, didn’t it?”

Simon nodded. “The cayenne would have negated the possibility of the gate. Silver was the next best thing.”

“And how come we didn’t wake the dead?”

Simon threaded a needle and didn’t look away from his task. “The vortex sucks everything into it, including sound within a certain distance. Fanny’s across the hall and I’m willing to bet she’s sound asleep.”

Alistair leapt at the opening. “Who is she? I saw her come in with Milo.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Lawrence asked.

“There really wasn’t time.”

“Milo’s her guardian,” Simon rumbled. “That’s all you need to know.”

The demon seemed to contract, disappointment on his face. “He wouldn’t say either.”

“Which should be enough to tell you where you stand on that score,” Lawrence said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for helping us. It hadn’t occurred to me to bring the sword.”

“And I saw you reload,” Simon said.

A soft groan escaped Lawrence. “I knew I’d catch it for that blunder.”

Simon nodded. “There’ll be a full weapons check in the morning at all locations.”

Lawrence looked abashed as he nodded. “Sorry.”

“I know you don’t carry often, but that’s all the more reason to make sure you’re fully loaded at all times. If you knew you were low enough to carry a spare clip, you should have reloaded before we left.”

“It’s okay, Lawrence,” Milo whispered. “No harm, no foul.”

“This time.”

Milo’s eyes slit open and rolled as he sought his bodyguard. “I know you’re doing your job, and I thank you all for pulling me outta the fire, but not in mixed company, Simon.”

Three humans looked at Alistair. The demon jerked with surprise and rose. “I’ll…just, um… wait outside.”

“Lawrence,” Milo said, “why don’t you keep Alistair company?”

Simon tossed a towel at Lawrence. “I’ll take care of you next.” He returned his attention to bandaging Milo’s arm. They were silent until the door closed.

“Thank you for saving Fanny.”

“Who turns out was in no danger.”

“Yes, but who knew? No. You were your usual superb self, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re about to say what I’m thinking.”

“That Fanny’s going to need her own bodyguard?”

“I’ll ask Kimberly Weber.”

Milo smirked. “One step ahead of me.”

“Which means I’ll be trampled in mere seconds.” Simon put his things away and rose. “I have to look at Lawrence. I assume you’ll want to see Alistair.”

Milo’s eyes closed with a single nod. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Simon looked over his shoulder. “It was the sword, wasn’t it?”

“That. And the cayenne you threw. Just enough juice left for me to look imposing. You really were on tonight.”

“You too. The coin was a pleasant surprise. I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”

“I was too mad to notice, truth be told.”

“I’ll send him in.”

“The hilt?”

“By your left hand, just out of sight.”

Milo relaxed as the door closed. A few seconds passed before the creak of the floorboards announced his guest.

“Come in, Alistair. Pull up a chair, if you like.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“How’s your father?”

“About the same as you.”

“So no lasting damage. Good.” He reached out, felt the cool metal hilt and lifted the sword. Alistair gasped at the sight of the glowing blade. “I know why you’re here, Alistair. You’re old enough to be married, and you feel you’re not ready.”

The demon shuffled his feet. “You’re a good Demon Eater.”

“I make it a habit to know what I’m up against.”

“My father gave me a year to choose my own bride since I didn’t like the one they chose for me.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost two years ago.”

“You’ve been hiding for a year?”

“Hmm.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Between the cayenne and the Finger, he wasn’t too focused.”

Milo grinned. “That makes two of us. I’m going to let you go.” He raised the sword. “I expect to never see you again.”

Alistair bowed and vanished.

 

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