Milo...Stars

                By Pattie Lawler

 

 

            He was lying flat on his back, staring at stars. Lots of them.

            Bemused, Milo passed a hand over his eyes, and the stars became curved streaks, like in a time-lapse photo. He blinked, and they were stars again.

            “Okay, that was weird,” he said aloud.

            Casting his mind back, he wondered where he was, but then felt the weight of the manuscript in his arms. He had carried it into the library for a razor and magnifying glass. He had had to slice the corner of the page at the spine to begin the process of examining the glue used when he realized that what he thought was hide was actually rough silk. Albany had been right about it being folded in half.

            It was when he stopped, when he set aside the razor...

            The recollection of biting cold, burning his sensitive fingertips, made him squeeze his eyes closed.

            Milo!

            Simon? His eyes flew open and he tried to rise, but his limbs felt leaden. Simon. I can’t move.

            I’m not Simon.

            The language gave him pause, but then he realized his error. Hypnos?

            Yes.

            Am I dreaming?

            No, which is why I can’t reach you. You’ve been taken by a malevolent spirit.

            The page! I opened it.

            Yes.

            Tell Simon, will you?

            I’ll do my best.

            Thank you. He rolled his eyes and concluded that he was on the living room floor, looking up through the patio doors. “Simon?”

            “Who is Simon?”

            It was a masculine voice with enough of an accent that Milo knew English wasn’t its native language.

            “Simon is my friend. My name is Milo. Who are you?”

            “My family name is Yang and my personal name is Li.”

            An evil Chinese spirit; a yaoguai. “You were trapped in the page of the book. I saw that it was made of silk. The men who reused it doubled it over to thicken it, making it more like the rest of the book. How long ago was that?”

            The spirit heaved a sigh. “I know not. Many, many years.”

            “What can I do for you?”

            “You can help me.”

            “Not from here, I can’t.”

            “Ah, forgive me.”

            The dampening lethargy was gone. Milo sat up with a deep breath and turned to face into the dark room. Standing before the elevator in the deepest shadows was an unnatural darkness. He squinted at it, trying to catalogue it. It floated to the edge of the living room and then made for the bedrooms.

            Milo leapt to his feet. “Where are you going?”

            “You have been kind enough to offer your aid. I wish to return the favor.”

            “There’s no need...” But the spirit didn’t stop as it flowed down the hall. As Milo raced in its wake, the doors to the master suite flew open and the spirit melded with the darkness within.

            “Come out of there, please,” Milo yelled from the hall, hoping to recall the spirit, but in the next second was forced to follow. “This isn’t necessary.”

            The spirit stood on the far side of the bed. Albany lay between them. Milo felt his face harden and hoped the darkness hid his mounting anger.

            “This woman is yours?”

            “I can’t help you from here. Let’s go to the library.”

            “The child she carries, is yours?”

            He felt his teeth grinding as his temperature rose. “What aid do you offer?”

            “I will warn you, save you. She is not the woman for you. I am a xi priest. I can see the future. She is not the one for you.”

            It took effort to thank the creature. “Now, tell me, how can I help you?” Milo turned and strode from the room, knowing the spirit would follow. His thoughts flew to the library as he walked and he trusted that Simon had done what he was paid to do. If he had, Six Hammers would be among the items in the desk drawer along with five silver coins.

            A preternatural midnight colored the suite in shades of blue as his gaze swept the passing rooms. “Light disturbs you?”

            “I understand it weakens all spirits.”

            “How did you become sealed in the silk of the book?”

            “The grossest deception possible. The woman who was to be my wife, the woman I loved, murdered me. She and her lover...my best friend.”

            Milo was tempted to roll his eyes but contented himself with a showing of sympathy. “That’s why you wanted to warn me about that woman in the bedroom? You think she will betray me?”

            “No. I can see the future, and she is not the one I see at your side.”

            “Ah. I see. I’ll keep that in mind.”

            “You think I am mistaken. I can feel as much.”

            “It’s not that. I’m just sleepy. I feel odd, here with you.”

            “But you are not frightened. Why is that?”

            “Do I have reason of be afraid? Do you mean to hurt me?”

            In the ensuing silence, they arrived at the library, and Milo, opening the door, made for his desk where the still open manuscript lay.

            “I mean you no harm. I am only in need of aid. To be freed of my prison is my desire.”

            “Do you know why they killed you? Was it jealousy? Money?” He sat, forward, his gaze on the unfolded page as he pulled the desk drawer open enough to slip his hand in.

            “They wanted my manuscript. I had written my Jade Potion.”

            The elixir of immortality. “You created the Jade Potion?” He slipped a coin onto the desk, rose, and moved around the desk to pace the carpet.

            “I will share it with you, Milo! It is a small price for my freedom.”

            “You’ve repaid me with your warning. Let me help you.” He leaned on the desk, toward the spirit, another coin in his palm. “Tell me what I should do.”

            “The page. I need the page.”

            Milo gestured expansively, “I’ll destroy it—”

            “No!”

            He stopped, dropping his hand onto the desk, his head cocked. “Are you bound to the page?”

            “No, it’s not that. It’s my formula. I will have nothing to live for if it’s gone.”

            A coin in each hand, Milo lunged forward, slamming the last two coins into place, completing the pentagram. “Removed from this world, barred from the next, I bind you to this space, within your own text!”

            He stepped back as the five coins began to glow. The spirit screamed, thrashing against the charm as it was pulled to the book.

<0> 

            Nearly hysterical with fear, Albany watched as Simon began his examination. She was out of her depth but desperate to be of aid. Turning back to the desk and the open manuscript, she decided to do some examining of her own.

            Bent over the unfolded page, she felt unsure of what she was looking at; tiny characters, thousands of them, written in tight columns. Whatever glue had been used in the fold had lifted the ink when Milo pried them apart, leaving large blank areas.

            “It looks like Chinese,” she murmured, frowning at the overlaid characters.

            “What?” Simon asked.

            “It looks like Chinese. Or Japanese. I can’t tell. But those kinds of characters.” She touched the page. “It feels like really stiff silk. And it’s freezing cold.” To confirm it wasn’t panic deceiving her, she stroked the vellum. It was supple and warm.

            The image of Milo happily exposing the pages to daylight made her grab the volume and hold it aloft with one hand while stretching the cold silk out to the nearest window.

            A face leered at her, formed from the characters.

            “Simon!”

            She resisted the desire to fling the book and felt the bodyguard at her side.

            “Well. You don’t see that everyday.” He lifted the book from her hands.

            Shaken, she dropped into the chair. “I thought the glue might have pulled the characters off...but there’s no way they came off in that pattern by accident.”

            Simon grumbled in agreement. “Whoever this was, he was put here on purpose.”

            Albany leapt to her feet. “Milo! We have to warn him!”

            “Doubtless he already knows.”

            “You think this...person,” she nodded toward the page, “has him?”

            Simon lowered the book, his gaze locked on her face. “What did Milo tell you what his name is?”

            Albany boggled. “What?”

            “His name.”

            Struggling with this question, she answered, shaking her head in disbelief. “Milo Beacon St. Clare Scarlet.”

            A broad grin split his face. “I thought he might have. Listen to me. I want you to do exactly as I say.” He gently pushed her back into the chair. “In this drawer is an obsidian knife. I want you to touch it. You’ll fall asleep immediately, but you should be able to talk to Milo. Trust me, Albany, and do as I say.”

            “And then what?”

            “I’ll wait with Milo,” he nodded toward the sofa, “in case there’s any change.”

            She was pulling the drawer open as he spoke. “What’s with the knife?”

            “It’s possessed.”

            “Of course it is. What was I thinking?”

      <0>     

            “You must be Albany.”

            Albany blinked...at herself. “And you are?”

            “You will call me Somnia.”

            “Milo?”

            “He is still within the room and is in the process of binding the spirit. He called it a yaoguai.”

            “You spoke to him!”

            Somnia gestured to their surroundings. “I dwell in dreams. Milo will explain. But for the moment, you need to know that the page detains the creature and must be destroyed.”

            “How?”

            “Fire.”

            Albany nodded and rose. “How do I get back?”

<0>          

            “Albany?”

            She jerked awake, her eyes on the bodyguard. “Simon.” For a second she was unsure of her surroundings, but then her gaze alighted on the manuscript. “Milo!”

            Her hand was back in the drawer but the bite of Six Hammers made her gasp, pulling her bleeding hand out. With a growl, she picked up the knife, ignoring the pain, and reached for the open book. “Somnia said that the creature is bound to this page.” The razor edge of Six Hammers was cutting into her flesh as she sawed it against the silk near the spine. “I’m sorry if the book is trashed,” she murmured and yanked the page. It resisted. Frantic, she cut again, the blood from her hand spreading across the silk. “Come out, damn it!”

            Another pull and the page was free.

            Dropping Six Hammers, Albany ran for the fireplace. She thrust aside several logs, exposing the kindling, and wadded papers beneath. Her hand closed on the matches as she dropped the silk onto the grate. She lit one of the long matches, grabbed the rest in her bloody fist and lit them all. Sulfur filled her nose as she held the blazing bundle of matches against the silk. She was mumbling a mantra, willing the silk to spontaneously combust. The newspapers caught next, and she didn’t look away as the silk contracted, smoldered, and began pouring out thick black smoke.

            Milo reached past her to open the flue.

            “Milo!” She dropped the matches and threw herself into his arms as he knelt.

            “Thank you, Albany, thank you.” He lifted her as he stood. “Let’s let Simon bandage your hand.”

 <0>

            While Simon examined her hand, Milo told her of Hypnos and his trip to Greece. He concluded by explaining his actions during the early hours of the morning.

            “I wanted to get that page open, and thinking about it was keeping me up, so I just got up. I was working on it when the page suddenly became cold. Somnia tried to warn me, but it was too late.”

            “What did it want?”

            “Out. It’s a kind of ghost, and what good is a ghost if it can’t haunt?”

            “And what’s the deal with your name?”

            Milo frowned at her. “My name?”

            She looked at Simon. “Simon wanted to know your name. What name you told me.”

            “Ah!” Milo grinned, rocking back to address his bodyguard. “And her answer?”

            “Was the right one.” Simon rose. “Try and keep it out of water as much as possible. I’ll change the dressing before you go to bed.”

            Albany raised an eyebrow. “Assuming I’ll still be here.”

            “You will,” Simon rumbled as he closed the library door.

            She looked at Milo. “Explain, please.”

            He smiled, kissing her nose. “Do you believe in fortune tellers?”

            She shrugged. “I think some of them can guess really well.”

            “Well, the day that I bought the wakizashi that brought us together, I was visited by a gypsy. She was in the store where I was purchasing the sword. She told me that the sword would lead me to true love. I asked her to elaborate, and all she would say is that my children would come from a capital city.”

            Albany gasped.

            He nodded. “Of course, I had no idea what she meant. Until I discovered the curse and then your name. Perhaps you know, one of the oldest binding charms is—”

            “A person’s name,” Albany interjected. “You told me your whole name. You trusted me.”

            His eyes closed as he nodded again. “You are a remarkable woman, Albany Wendel, and whether or not we have children, I consider myself extremely fortunate in being a part of your world. If I knew where that gypsy was, I would kiss her for her excellent pronouncements.”

            “How about you kiss me instead?”

            “A much more pleasant idea I think.”

 

Previous    Home   Next