Milo...Demon

      By Pattie Lawler

 

            Fanny hadn’t stopped chatting from the moment Milo got into the car to the second she fell asleep. He glanced over at her as they drove through the night and smiled.

In typical fashion, spring had arrived in England while New York was still brushing off the last March storm. Fanny’s high Victorian costume of white and petal pink reflected this warming trend and made her appear younger than her age. Milo knew she had chosen her dress with care and felt a stab of jealously, knowing she was dressing to impress Gilbert, the stewart’s son, and not him.

            “Yes, Fan. Things are changing,” he whispered, returning his attention to the road and the GPS that was warning him of the upcoming turn.

            When he arrived at Heathrow, Fanny asked if they could spend the night at an inn not far from the Avebury Circle in Wiltshire. Though he was anxious to reach the farm, complete his business, and get back to New York, Milo saw no reason to deny the request. A few hours wouldn’t make a difference and the prospect of time alone with Fanny appealed.

Well. Mostly alone.

He looked at the headlights in the review mirror. In the limo behind the Shelby rode Simon, Lawrence, Joe and the luggage. Milo decided, upon the instant, to rectify the situation and when the cars pulled up before the New Inn, he hurried to the limo.

“You guys go on. I want some quality time with Fanny.” Simon frowned, his mouth opening to protest as Milo held up a hand. “This stop was Fanny’s request, so no one knows we’re here but us and the innkeeper. If anyone’s waiting to kill me, they’d be at the farm and not here.”

Simon closed his mouth.

“We’ll do our best to stay out of trouble, I promise.”

Lawrence snorted, but dutifully popped the trunk and helped Milo pull the appropriate suitcases from the car. The innkeeper arrived, ready to be of service.

“Ted Williams, milord. Welcome to the New Inn.”

Milo nodded in recognition, distracted by Fanny’s door opening. He abandoned the luggage and went to his groggy niece, patting Simon’s shoulder as he passed. “Please park the Shelby. I’m taking Fan inside.”

 

The tiled foyer was cool and dark, lit only by the light from the bar that shone though a stained-glass panel in the door. A small reception desk curved around a display of antique cubby-hole mailboxes, keys, and framed playing cards.

Milo grinned at Fanny. “I see why you wanted to come.”

She smiled, scrubbing her eyes. “I found his collection on the Web and wanted to see it.”

“And here I thought you were moving away from collecting.”

Her reply was a shy smile.

The luggage-laden innkeeper bustled into the small space, squeezing past Simon who held the door. Milo and Fanny stepped back, allowing him passage. He didn’t pause, but thrust his elbow against the light switch as he passed, illuminating the rich, wooden stairway.

“This way, milord.”

Milo glanced at Simon, who shrugged. They knew Joe would have told the innkeeper both Milo’s title and how he disliked using it. There was no stopping some people, however, so Milo ignored the oversight. “Thank you,” he murmured, extending a hand for Fanny to precede him.

“I’ll check the rooms,” Simon rumbled from behind him.

Milo nodded. “I’ll call you in the morning when we leave, so you can get some sleep.” Simon grunted, causing Milo to laugh. “Mother hen.”

 

The two bedrooms shared a sitting room between them, so Milo and Fanny loitered there while Simon reconnoitered. Williams busied himself with placing the suitcases against the far wall.

“Long flight, milord?”

“Yes, and a long drive. Would you indulged me, please, and drop the title? I’d rather not draw attention.”

Williams smiled, bobbing his head. “Of course, Mr. Scarlet, of course. Though we are tickled to have you here. That’s a monster car you’re driving. American made?”

Milo nodded. “Something to play with in nicer weather.”

“Well, I’ll just roll my car out of the garage, and your man can put it there. Out of sight, like. Will you be wanting dinner?”

“No, thank you. What time is breakfast?” He dropped a hand on Fanny’s shoulder, gently squeezing. “I imagine my niece will be up long before me and my jetlag.”

“No worries, sir, no worries. The missus will be happy to fix whatever you’d like, whenever you’d like.”

Simon moved onto the next room with an ‘all clear’ glance at Milo.

“After I’ve put Fanny to bed, I’ll join you in the lounge,” Milo murmured to the innkeeper, his hand out for the room keys.

Williams smiled as he handed them over. “Looking forward to the company.”

<0> 

The first thing Milo noticed as he stepped into the common room was the young, male demon sitting in the corner, staring intensely at the ceiling.

Ignoring the hush that descended upon the gathered locals at his arrival, Milo moved toward the same corner to admire the framed playing cards. He studied them aloud, allowing the company to add their own comments while he surreptitiously examined the demon.

In a lifetime that would span centuries, this demon looked only a year or two older than Fanny. He was dressed as a laborer with dried mud splattered to his thighs. His black hair reached the back of his neck and like all demons he sported a pair of horns. His were akin to ram horns, emanating from just above his ears and curling around his cheeks, but were slightly squared off.

A pint of bitters and the remnants of a steak and kidney pie were on the table before him. Waves of exhaustion flowed from him and made Milo think that he had indeed put in a hard day’s work.

Milo stepped closer to the wall, leaning as if to see a card better. The demon sat back, and this desire to not be felt alerted Milo to the fact that he alone could see the apparition.

Had Simon been there, Milo was sure he would have thrown both him and Fanny in the car and driven off post haste. But Milo knew his skills and weapons were more than a match for the youngster. Moreover, he detected no threat from the bone-weary young demon.

The thought of his bodyguard’s reaction made him smile, and it was this smile Milo bestowed upon the demon as their eyes met.

“You can see me?”

Milo’s smile grew, and he inclined his head enough to reply without giving anything away. The conversation behind him moved on to the Shelby, and Milo turned to the company, offering to buy a round. When he next glanced at the corner, he wasn’t surprised to see the demon was gone.

“Are there any legends of ghosts or demons in this area?” he asked, accepting a pint of local brew.

“This close to the Rings, they’re hard to avoid,” one man laughed.

Milo assumed ‘the Rings’ were the local name for the Avebury Stone Circle which was so massive that the nearby town sat within the circle’s environs.

“What about the inn? It looks too new to be haunted.”

This drew another hush, and Williams hastened into the silence. “As a matter of fact, we seem to have inherited a boogie with the reception desk. The story I was told is that it was once a writing desk, from Germany, but no mention of anyone meetin’ their end on it. But the thing is, nothing odd ever happened before the desk was installed.”

“Now what happens?”

Williams shrugged. “Mostly missing food, but when I look at my wife’s hips I can guess where it’s going.” The company roared, and Williams grinned as he rang last call. Milo bought the final round and was warmly thanked as everyone filed out an hour later.

Alone with the innkeeper, Milo pointed to the framed cards over the bar.

“You have an impressive collection.”

“You a collector?”

“My niece is. She’s the reason we’re here. Said she found your collection on-line.”

He nodded. “I have a few pieces for sale, though I admit the idea was to generate interest in the inn more than break up my collection. It was the wife’s idea, in fact. I picked cards that I wouldn’t mind upgrading and nothing of consequence.” He grinned at Milo. “Then priced them so no one would touch ‘em.”

Milo laughed, nodding. “Been there, done that.”

“And what about the boogie? You don’t look like the ghost hunter type.”

Sitting back, Milo toyed with the melting ice in his empty glass. “I try to avoid them, it’s true, but I can’t help but notice when there’s one around.”

Williams nodded. “Sensitive, huh? Well, I thought I’d seen some odd things. Outta the corner of my eye, like, but nothing to fly into hysterics over. Even the wife’s admitted to seeing things, but you askin’ like that just confirmed it.”

Milo twisted, looking into the empty corner. “I don’t think it has anything to do with your desk, though.” Turning back, he smiled. “Would you mind giving me some time alone in the bar? I’d like to talk to it.”

A shudder rippled up Williams frame, and he paled. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Milo winked. “I’ll turn the lights out when I’m done.”

Williams still hesitated.

“You have my car as collateral.”

The innkeeper laughed. “I’m not suspecting you of anything, milord. I’m just thinking that dealing with the unknown, alone, isn’t the best enterprise.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years, and I’m more than a match for your visitor.”

Williams rose. “Then, have at ‘im!”

 <0>

At Milo’s request, Williams poured two pints of bitters before retiring for the night. Milo watched the innkeeper’s retreat, and when the hall light went off, he turned to the corner and the demon who sat there. Collecting the glasses, he went to sit beside him, holding out a glass.

“Tah,” the demon said, taking the glass and raising it in salute.

Milo sat with a sigh, crossing his legs before clinking glasses; together they drank.

Using his sleeve as a napkin, the demon wiped his mouth and leaned back with a weary sigh. “You’re American.”

“Born and raised.”

“I’ve never spoken to an American before.”

“You’ll have to tell all your friends.”

One side of the demon’s lips curled, and he hid behind another pull at his drink before asking, “Why didn’t you tell them about me?”

“You look too tired to be exorcised, and besides, I’m not really here. Not officially, I mean.”

“You’re a Demon Eater?”

“Only when I’m paid to be.”

The demon’s shoulders dropped, and he nodded. “Then I guess I’ll be pushing off.”

“Don’t on my account. I’m only here for the evening, never to return as far as I’m concerned. I’ve no one to report to.”

He nodded again, set his glass down and extended his hand. “Alistair Maricourt.”

“Milo Scarlet, a pleasure, I’m sure. Please pardon the gloves, it’s nothing personal.”

Alistair smiled. “Takes more than that to offend me.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” The demon looked away, and Milo grinned. “Ah, youth.” He paused for another drink. “I’m guessin’ you ran away from home, Alistair Maricourt, and are posing as a laborer so your parents can’t find you.”

Weariness flashed to anger for a second, but then the smile returned, and he lifted his glass. “It’s a lot harder than you think.”

“Don’t be so sure. I was young once, too, ya know. So tell me, what are your plans?” Alistair’s gaze flicked to the ceiling then back. Milo, too, glanced up, imagining what was beyond the exposed timbers and frowned at his mental floor plan.

“I’m not sure.”

“Then tell me what attracted you to such a modern inn?”

“The energy.” His eyes rose toward the ceiling again, but the demon resisted and shrugged. “It’s close enough to the Rings to feel a buzz but not be zonked.”

“Okay, Alistair, tell me what’s so fascinating about the ceiling.”

He expected the demon to change the subject, or flat out lie, but Alistair sat forward, pointing toward the spot.

“Do you know that girl? The one in white with dusty hair?”

Milo’s frown deepened. “Why do you ask?”

Alistair shook his head, his face suffused with awe. “Her energy... she glowed like no one I’ve ever seen.”

Milo rose, wrestling with anger as he stared down at the demon. “Yes, I know her. And if you look at her room one more time, I’ll rip your head off. You’re going to find somewhere else to spend the night, and I’d better not see so much as a hair of you in the morning. This is a friendly warning, Alistair. The not-as-friendly one will come from a Demon Eater if you think I’m not serious.”

BOOM!

Milo whirled as the building shook. The door to the lounge flew into the room and smashed against the bar. A massive demon squeezed through the doorway.

“Dad,” Alistair moaned before he vanished.

Thoughts of weapons, Fanny, and Lawrence’s parting smirk filled Milo’s mind as he wondered what he’d do next.

“I was in time,” the demon rasped, “to hear your pathetic threat, Demon Eater. Care to rephrase?”

 

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