The bedroom was icy cold when Damian stepped cautiously through the doorway. His warm breath rose up into the air as he exhaled in a pale cloud. Childishly, he inwardly chastised, the thought of dragon breath was the first thing it reminded him of.
Such a childish thought.
Damian wished he wasn't a child. He didn't feel like a child. He was a Robin.
However, being a child was the reason he was the only one able to save his older brother's life.
"So your plan to get rid of the ghost girl haunting Tim is to invite another stronger, more dangerous ghost into this house?" Dick didn't even bother to mask the incredulous angry tone in his voice.
"There is a method to my madness," Constantine said as he handed Damian four small pillar candles and a Japanese styled bamboo flute that he'd had Zatanna teleport to him. "Here. You'll need this and these."
"This I'd like to hear," Dick grumbled.
"The situation with your brother is extremely grave, but not completely without hope," Constantine reiterated. "The simplest solution would be for him to release his hold on the Onryo's spirit and allow her to be taken into hell, leaving his soul free to return to his body. Unfortunately, Timothy has an overdeveloped sense of righteous indignation and a non-existent sense of self-preservation. He refuses to abandon the child to her fate."
Bruce shared an uncomfortable glance with Dick. The exchange was not missed by Constantine, but he chose not to call either of them on it.
"Is there any way to force him to release her? To pry the two apart?" Bruce asked.
"Safely? Perhaps... But that would require a month of Sundays and at least two Japanese exorcists, neither of which we can obtain before sunrise."
Dick sighed. "But why is Damian the only one who can summon this... Moo-oh-naw? Why does he have to be in that room alone with both those ghosts?"
"Because the Muonna is-" Constantine paused, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "You have to understand what a Muonna is."
"What is a Muonna?" Damian asked.
Constantine regarded Damian. "A Muonna is a cursed spirit, like an Onryo. However, this spirit is created specifically when a mother dies in the process of failing her child during a scenario of violence of sickness.
"You see, when she dies under these circumstances, her soul gets stuck with an obsessive desire to save her lost child. Naturally, she is drawn to children suffering from dire predicaments. However, because she is a cursed spirit, all she will ultimately bring to those living children she tries to help is death and further suffering."
Bruce sighed. "So your plan is to lure the Muonna here in hopes that the Onryo will choose to leave Tim in favor of attaching herself to a mother-figure." The skepticism in his voice was obvious. "And the only way to lure her here is with another child..."
"I think I hate this plan," Dick muttered with a frown. "What's to stop the Muonna from going after Damian the moment she shows up? How do we even know that bringing the Muonna here will make the Onryo let go of Tim?"
Constantine reached into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches, opening it to make sure it still had some sticks inside. "Honestly speaking, I don't know that for certain. Whether or not the Muonna will lure the Onryo away from Tim is purely theoretical at this point. However, we're very short on options right now. However, if Damian follows my instructions, then he should be in no danger from the Muonna."
"What do I need to do?" Damian asked as he took the book of matches from Constantine.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bruce asked Damian. "You don't have to. We can find another way-"
Damian shook his head. "There is no other way, Father. You know that. And as I said before, I want to do this."
Once the door was closed behind him, Damian looked towards the bed. All was quiet and calm in the room, though he could feel eyes watching him. The sensation raised an army of goosebumps on his skin. However, he had a job to do and he wasn't about to let the corpse girl make him fail before he even began.
He owed Drake that much.
"When you enter the room, the first thing you need to do is light a candle in each of the four corners. The candles will give off a smoke that will otherwise mask most of your presence from all spiritual entities in the room."
Constantine's very specific instructions echoed in his ears as he moved about the room, lighting the candles he'd been given.
"Then, find a seat somewhere within the boundaries created by the candles and start playing the flute, preferably well away from Timothy's bed."
Damian looked at the bamboo flute in his hand.
"Um... I have no idea how to play this."
"It's called a shakuhachi, and it plays more like a recorder than silver flute, so you should be alright. Kids play recorders all the time. Just blow into this end and use your fingers on those holes there to play the notes."
The boy looked at Constantine skeptically.
"It doesn't matter what you play, or how well," Constantine told him. "The flute has two purposes. First, it's cursed. The original owner was the child of a woman who became a Muonna. Whenever any child plays it, it lures her in like a duck call, no matter where you are in the world."
"And you just happen to coincidentally have a flute that summons a Muonna in your possession?"
Constantine shrugged. "It was given to me years ago by a witch I visited several years back in Japan. It was payment for helping grant a wish of a customer of hers. She said I'd need it one day." He smirked at the memory of the woman. "And she was of the opinion that nothing is coincidence."
Damian rolled his eyes. "And what's the second purpose for the flute?"
"To give you a safe way to breathe."
"What do you mean?"
"Many malicious spirits, especially Japanese ones, are drawn to the living by their breaths. The breath of life seems to have a rather attractive aroma to spirits, or so I've been told." Constantine indicated the candles. "The candles will give off a scent that ought to mask most of your presence. However, they can't cover the scent of the breath that comes out directly from your lungs. It's too strong. Inhaling is no problem, but when you exhale, you have to do so through the flute."
"So the purpose of the candle and the flute, in part, is to hide me from the Muonna as well as summon her?"
"Exactly."
It wasn't hard to find a seat a couple of feet away from the foot of Tim's bed. Once he was comfortable, he brought the flute up to his lips and began to play. Damian winced at several painfully sour notes that came out of the instrument. However, after a few minutes, he managed to figure out how to play a basic set of scales. Just as Constantine had instructed him, Damian breathed in through his nose and out through the flute. A few more minutes passed, and he soon got bored with scales, so he started experimenting, flowing random notes into one another. Whatever sounded good to his ears and felt comfortable to his fingers.
It was a rather soothing exercise. Damian could see himself slipping into a meditative state quite easily while playing an instrument like this.
Then a sudden cold gust of wind blew through the otherwise closed off room, extinguishing the candles, and the soothing atmosphere was quite gone.
"I'm not sure what will be the definite signs that the Muonna has arrived, but when she does, you will know it." Constantine looked down at Damian. "When she does, there are two rules you must follow, no matter what." There was such a grave tone to his voice that Damian felt a small chill run down his spine.
"What are they?"
"The first rule and most important rule is to not breathe out through anything other than that flute," Constantine instructed. "If, for whatever reason, you do not have that flute in your mouth, you do not exhale under any circumstances. If you do, the Muonna is certain to focus on you and not the Onryo, and if that happens, no one can do anything to help you. Understood?"
Damian nodded. "And the second?"
"The second is that once she is in the room you close your eyes. Whatever happens, do not look upon her."
"Why not?"
Constantine sighed. "Because there are some things in life that, once seen, can never be unseen."
Despite not getting any clarification about the second rule from Constantine, as soon as the atmosphere had shifted in Tim's bedroom, Damian shut his eyes tight. Although his playing slowed significantly, it did not stop. There would be pauses during which he tried to listen for any sounds of the Muonna, and then he would play a few notes here and there as he exhaled for another breath of air.
During the pauses where no music filled the air, Damian strained his ears for any sign of the Muonna's presence. Though the air was far colder than it was before, and the constant beeping from the life support machines was still there, the boy could hear nothing else out of the ordinary. His brow furrowed as frustration and curiosity began to build.
It was too quiet.
Was she really there?
If she was, what was she doing?
Was the Onryo really taking the bait?
How would he know that the ghosts were gone?
He played a few more notes, but his curiosity was eating away at him.
"Just one look."
The thought crossed his mind before he had a chance to squash it. It took root in his curiosity and grew.
"Just one look. A quick glance won't hurt. Just need to make sure she's really here. Need to make sure the plan is working. I gotta do it for Drake... To make sure he'll be ok.
Just one look."
His mind finally made up, Damian swallowed hard before slowly, warily, opening his eyes.
From outside the closed door of Tim's bedroom, the adults all stood nervously waiting for any sign that the plan was working. Through the solid wooden door, they could hear the sound of Damian's novice, hesitant flute playing.
Their attention was immediately piqued when the noticed the sudden shift in the speed of his playing. The temptation to open the door and see what was happening was great, but they restrained themselves.
The playing may have slowed, but it hadn't stopped.
No one was out of the woods yet.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a shrill, piercing squawk from the flute that raked across everyone's hearing like nails on a chalkboard. It loud and short and immediately followed by the sound of the bamboo flute clattering to the hardwood floor.
That was then followed by silence.
"Damian!" Bruce rushed for the door, but was immediately barred by Constantine.
"Stop!"
Bruce looked ready to punch Constantine growled. "Let me through!"
Constantine narrowed his eyes. "It's not over yet." The paranormalist glared daggers at the door. Though he couldn't see what was going on behind the closed door, he could sense it. "Something's gone wrong."
Damian sat in the dark with his back pressed as tightly against the wall as he could. The flute was lying on the floor, utterly forgotten. His eyes were wide with terror as he tightly clasped both his hands over his mouth and nose in an effort to prevent any air... any exclamation of his fright... from escaping.
Inches away from his face...
...The Muonna was staring straight at him.
Silent as the grave, the Muonna had been crouching there right in front of Damian when the boy dared to open his eyes. Who knew how long the Japanese cursed spirit had been sitting there, watching him.
As Damian stared at the Muonna, he wished he had never opened his eyes. The sight of the spirit was more unnerving than anything he'd ever seen as Robin. The Muonna was dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono, colored white with red trim. Her long black hair was done up in a very traditional hairstyle, held in place with an ivory comb carved in the shape of a three flower blossoms. But those details were barely registered by Damian in the back of his terrified mind.
His eyes were firmly fixed on the fact that she had no face.
Where the Muonna's face ought to have been, there was flat, featureless skin. That in and of itself was disturbing, but what added to the boy's fear was the fact that the skin was partially translucent. Through the skin, he could see the vague features of bones and cords of muscles. He could see, through the skin, the orbs of eyeballs staring straight at him, while the Muonna's jaws, full of teeth and backed by a tongue, moved as if speaking. However, because it had no mouth, no words came out.
The Muonna looked a little confused, as if it could sense Damian's presence, but couldn't quite pinpoint exactly where he was. Every cell in Damian's body was screaming at him to move, to run away, but he was too scared to move.
Then, as he watched helplessly in horror, the face of the Muonna began to shift. Features began to develop, and right before his eyes his own mother's face began to appear on that flat translucent skin.
As Damian tried to shrink back into the unforgiving wall, his hands trembling both from lack of air and fright, the Muonna wearing his mother's face opened her mouth and began to speak.
"Damian," she whispered in his mother's stolen voice. The Muonna slowly turned her head this way... then that... "Damian, where are you?"
Damian's eyes widened and he bit down on his lips to keep from whimpering.
"Mother is here, Damian," the Muonna whispered temptingly in the sweetest tones Damian had ever heard from his mother's voice. "But Mother cannot see you. Where are you Damian? Mother misses you. Mother wants to see you so much. Mother wants to take Damian home."
Damian wished he could close his eyes shut. He wished he could cut off his ears and stab out his eyes, so he wouldn't be tormented by this mockery of his mother who was so tempting regardless of how utterly wrong the depiction was. Tears began to whell up as his lungs began to strain for air.
"[Momma?]"
A tiny girl's Japanese voice, hesitant and frightened, interrupted the Muonna's tempting words. It caused the Muonna to freeze in its searching, and almost immediately the image of Damian's mother erased itself from her face, much to his relief.
"[Momma? Is that you?]"
The Muonna straightened up, and as she did so Damian watched as her blank face shifted once more. This time, though, her features became distinctly Japanese. There was a look of careworn hardship on her face, as if she'd suffered a very hard life, but managed to put on a caring, motherly expression as she turned to Timothy's bed.
"[Minako?]" the Muonna purred affectionately. "[Where are you, Minako?]"
As the body of the Muonna shifted, Damian saw the girl in white, as herself and not the corpse, leap from the foot of his brother's bed into the Muonna's open arms. "[Momma!]" she cried out joyfully. "[I'm here, Momma! I'm here!]"
The Muonna's menacing, predatory aura seemed to fade almost immediately as she wrapped her arms around the child. The cursed spirit's obsessively maternal instincts had kicked in, and she treated the little girl as if she were her own lost child. "[Mother is here. Mother missed you so much.]"
"[I was lost and scared and alone,]" Minako whimpered. "[But then Big Brother found me and took care of me while you were gone.]" She clung to the Muonna.
The Muonna stroked the girl's hair. "[Mother is here now. Mother will take care of you. Now it's time to go home.]"
The girl glanced back quickly at Tim, still lying unconscious on the bed. She rushed over to his side, and with tears in her eyes she placed a ghostly kiss on his cheek.
"[Thank you, Big Brother, for everything,]" she said sweetly before going back to the Muonna and taking the motherly spirit's hand. Then, as Damian watched, the two of them walked toward closed bedroom door and faded away.
As soon as the two spirits faded into nonexistance, as soon as the air warmed to a reasonable temperature, despite Damian's uncontrollable shivering, the boy finally let go of his breath. He seemed almost to crumple in on himself as he gasped for air. For a long several minutes, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room were Damian's ragged gasps and the steady beeps from the life support machines.
As Damian's breathing became more steady and quiet, he noted the otherwise lack of sound with growing trepidation. The ghosts were gone. That much was certain.
But...
What about Drake?
"Even if we succeed in removing the Onryo from the equation, there is a chance that we could still lose Timothy. In the astral plane, he was very weak. He may not be strong enough to return to his body."
Damian closed his eyes tightly and bowed his head as Constantine's final words before he entered the room echoed in his mind.
Was he too late?
Did he fail?
"Damian?"
The boy's eyes snapped open at the faint sound of his own name. He slowly lifted his head up. To his great relief, another pair of blue eyes met his own gaze. Tim looked sick and exhausted, his skin pale save for the dark shadows under his eyes.
But he was alive.
"Damian," Tim murmured weakly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Are you alright?"
Damian stared at Tim wide eyed. After everything that had happened. After all the sacrifices made and how close he came to death, it took a moment for the boy to fully absorb his older brother's question.
After everything he had been through...
Tim's first concern...
Was for him.
Tears slipped down Damian's face. "You... You idiot."
