Page 45 of Love Lives
"Perhaps all of this is related to the summoning," Puck finally put his thoughts into words. "That mark that was left on your body. I suppose there's a chance it wasn't Death marking you. Maybe it was the spirit you were trying to summon, communicating in the ways of Death."
That... I don't want to say that it made sense, but it kind of did. In the weird kind of way that had become normal to me over the past couple of months. Sure, a spirit had drawn a mark on my body using the language the God of Death used to speak. Why not?
"So, he marked me and gave me the ability to read his journal?"
"And those dreams that you will have to tell me about," Puck added.
"Could he really do all that?" Wasn't he supposed to be... dead?
"Think about it," Puck urged, gesturing with his hands now as his enthusiasm for this conversation grew. "I've been wondering for a while now. Why did Atlus go to such great lengths to preserve his journal? When it mostly appears like something he wrote only for himself... why did he want it to exist centuries after he would be gone?"
I didn't have a response to that. At least, not one that wouldn't make me sound totally stupid, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Because he knew that he would want someone to read it in the future!" Puck explained. "He was brilliant, and he spent a lot of time thinking about things to come. It's feasible that he's left a hint in this very journal, and he's guiding you, his descendant, toward it." Puck pointed at my belly, where I had been marked. "It might be a page number."
"Page number seven?" I asked, even as I opened the book to the page in question. "There's... nothing much interesting here." It was a diary entry, and it was sweet to the point of sickening. His and Cyril’s first child had just been born and Atlus basically just went on and on about how powerful the magic was that had made this possible. More powerful than anything. He kept repeating that. "I don't think this is what we were looking for."
"Are you sure?"
I read the page over again, but couldn’t find anything particularly interesting. Either there was nothing here or I was too stupid to see it.
"What are your dreams about?" Puck asked.
I made a dismissive gesture with my hands. "Mundane things." Without thinking about it, I bit my lower lip, remembering last night's dream in a little too much detail. "Sometimes it's about their love life," I admitted.
"Interesting." Puck leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the sky again. I flipped through the journal again, hoping for another hint.
"What if it's not a page number? Maybe it's a date or..."
"The spells are numbered," Puck mused. "I've read them all and there isn't a single one that's particularly exciting, but..." He straightened and held his hand out to me. "Let me see."
I passed the journal back to him. He opened a page in the first half of the book and squinted at it. "Spell number seven... Maybe I misunderstood," he murmured. "I will have to study this one more time." Abruptly, he jumped up from his chair. "I'll still want to hear more about your dreams at another time, but until then..."
"Wait!" I tried to stop him, but the witch was on a mission now, and he vanished without giving me another chance to get any of my questions answered. I exhaled in exasperation.
Why did every answer just turn up more questions?
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn'ttime for dinner yet when Aldrich got up, but he found his favorite human in the kitchen, pounding steaks as if his life depended on it.
Aldrich propped his elbows on the kitchen island and leaned forward, less than impressed by this particular display of violence. "Something got you stressed?"
Remy barely even looked up from the poor meat he was torturing. "It'd be a miracle if I weren't fucking stressed."
Aldrich pretended to be considering this carefully. "You know, it's more fun to beat things that aren't dead."
Finally, Remy stopped what he was doing to look at him. "Life is really simple to you, isn't it?"
"It's not my fault you make it complicated for yourself."
Remy did that thing where he shook his head at Aldrich in exasperation even though he wasn't that exasperated at all. If he were, he'd tell Aldrich to fuck off, but that rarely happened anymore.
"You should just kill everyone who threatens you," Aldrich said.
"It's not that simple."
"Sure it is." Aldrich smiled. Remy grimaced. He didn't like to be reminded that Aldrich was a killer. Aldrich couldn't help that. It was what it was. No point in making a big deal out of it. Still, he figured it would be better to change the topic if he wanted things between them to progress further than they had the night before.
