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The rain beat against Jonathan’s windows since the sun had risen, and the crackling fire in the fireplace cast distorted shadows on the walls. It was so dark that the young boy had to light the oil lamp on his desk in the middle of the afternoon. He sighed. He had been sitting there for hours in front of a sheet covered with mathematical formulas, and he had only managed to solve two problems.
Yes, Jonathan was the unhappiest boy on Earth. His father had returned two days ago from his business trip, and he had had no time for him except to give him homework to prove that the brunet had worked well in his absence. Pulling his chair back, Jojo stretched his legs and stood up. The movement made Danny, lying at his feet, yawn, and the dog jumped up and wagged his tail.
"I know, I’d like to go play outside too." Jonathan scratched his best friend’s ears and approached the window.
Outside, the trees wore their most beautiful colors, and a carpet of orange leaves already covered the paths leading to the manor, reducing to nothing the orderly piles raked the day before. Leaning on the windowsill, Jojo pressed his forehead against the damp glass. He loved Fall, this period when a fog fell on the park every morning, and where each walk in the forest made him feel like he could encounter knights or legendary monsters at the bend of a road. So far, his biggest discovery was a circle of mushrooms. Turning away, he glanced at his clock. 3:43 p.m.
"Okay, it’s almost time for a snack. How about we go see what Mrs. Harris is up to? I deserve a break!"
As if he understood, Danny licked his lips and barked. They both ran down the stairs to the kitchens, stopping at the door to smell the air. A delicious pie scent.
"Good afternoon, young master Jojo." A servant smiled, and the noble boy greeted her.
The girl was busy kneading dough, unusually alone in the room that suddenly seemed huge. On the work surface next to her, other pies were waiting to be put in the oven.
"Your snack will be a little late, please forgive us."
"No problem! But what are you doing here alone? Where are the others?"
"Mrs Harris and Baker are cleaning the room for tomorrow evening. The others must be looking for chairs in the attic."
Jonathan’s eyes widened. How could he forget his father’s business dinner?! "Take your time then, I’ll go help them!"
He darted out of the room.
With a mansion as large as theirs, the attic wasn’t a room the Joestars visited often. They stored their party decorations there, or old objects that would have stood out among the new furniture. Thus, only servants pushed its door on rare occasions. Servants, and now Jonathan, who greeted the old butler. The man already worked for his family before his birth, and he considered him something of a grandfather.
"Hello, Mr. Griffith!" He said. "Can I help you?"
"Ah, hello Jojo! No, it’s okay. I’ve almost finished taking the chairs down."
The young boy pouted. Was there really nothing to do? Quick, he needed an excuse not to get back to work!
"But can you try to find the Autumn Leaf crown? Master Joestar wants to use it as a table runner."
"Of course!"
All smiles, he rushed towards the trunks, the old man leaving him alone in the room. Jonathan crouched down in front of the first one. What was hidden under this lid? What mysteries of the past would he discover? He felt like a great explorer, just a few steps from treasure. But instead of treasure were dishes, old clothes, or children’s toys. He ended up finding the crown in a chest filled with Christmas decorations and candles.
"Well, at least we won’t return empty-handed from our expedition."
But barks never came. Frowning, Jonathan turned around. Danny was there, in front of the door, his ears flattened back.
"Come on, what are you waiting for?"
The Great Dane remained still.
"Your loss..."
But as he was about to shrug, a muffled noise startled him. Something faint he wouldn’t have heard if he were not alone in the room, and which seemed to come from the depths of the attic. Jonathan’s heart raced. Light didn’t reach this space where he could barely make out the outlines of a small trunk swallowed up by the darkness.
Glancing at his friend still in the doorway, he held his breath and listened. Silence. But no matter, his curiosity was triggered, and he had to search this trunk. Perhaps it was a sign of fate, and he would find something extraordinary there? With his hands clenched on the crown, he crept closer to the chest and narrowed his eyes. Nothing. There was nothing but this trunk in this corner of the attic. As darkness engulfed the front of his body, he stepped back as quickly as possible, the object in his arms.
Jonathan dragged himself to his dog on trembling legs and lifted the lid. His eyes widened. A polished wooden plank lay inside. Letters and celestial symbols had been carved into its surface, along with the words Yes, No, and Goodbye. Warmth coursed through his fingers as he placed it on the floor, and excitement filled every pore of his skin. At the bottom, he found a rounded wooden object with a hole in the middle and an old leather notebook. His jaw dropped as he flipped through the first few pages. The crumbling cover and the yellowed paper were a testimony of its age and the first page announced in careful letters How to talk with spirits.
"Wow, that’s promising!" Jonathan put everything back in the trunk and dusted off his pants. "Come on, Danny, we have a new mystery to unravel!"
"The first rule to respect," Jonathan read, his mouth full of chocolate fondant, "is to never remove your fingers from the pointer."
He glanced at the rounded object in the trunk and wiped his hands before checking it.
"The second rule is to always say goodbye before ending a session."
He took a sip of his tea. What was better than sitting at a table filled with your favorite pastries and reading a mysterious notebook with your best friend? The village boys couldn’t get it.
"Third rule: each session must be done by candlelight, in complete calm." Jonathan continued to flip through each page, engraving each rule in his head and already imagining all he could do with this new knowledge. One of them particularly caught his attention. Unlike the other pages, this one was not only yellowed: the bottom was torn and brownish traces of burns seemed to dot the text.
"If the pointer makes the following movements, immediately say goodbye and stop the session by all means."
Jonathan raised his eyebrows, his fingers caressing the paper, torn from where said movements should have been. Behind, the text continued in the middle of a sentence, "... Who also goes by the names... and... but his real name is..."
This time, the names were unreadable behind the blackened paper. The noble boy’s hair stood up on the back of his neck, but he quickly shook his head. Whatever happened, he just had to look out for suspicious movements. It took more to frighten him.
"There are enough candles in my room, and once Father goes to bed, no one will disturb us."
Thousands of questions ran through his mind. Who did this board belong to? Who wrote the diary? Did ghosts really exist? He was convinced of it, but had never had proof. And above all, what would happen if he used it? A face stood out to him as soon as he saw the word "spirit". A face hanging above his bed as if to protect him.
"Maybe I could talk to Mother…"
Butterflies flew in his stomach. He had never heard her voice, taken her in his arms, listened to her bedside stories... All these situations that he would never experience made his heart bleed more than the mocking looks of other young people. He turned to Danny. The dog’s ears were pricked, and he was wagging his tail as he looked at the table, his tongue hanging out.
"Danny, what do you think?" He asked. "Should we try to contact Mother tonight? Bark once for yes and twice for no."
The Great Dane stared at him with his big black eyes and barked twice.
"Well, you’re just a dog after all. It’s not like you really understand me."
When the clock in the hallway struck midnight, Jonathan jumped out of bed. It was time! Sitting down on the floor, he placed the board on the parquet floor and lit five candles placed around it one by one. Danny’s claws scratched the floor. The dog’s ears were down and Jonathan ran a hand through his fur before focusing back on the board.
"Danny, can you imagine? I’ll be able to talk to Mother. I can’t waste my chance…"
His friend barked softly before pressing his wet nose against his hand. Jonathan smiled.
"So..." He opened the journal to the page explaining how to start a session and read aloud, "First, I have to “warm” the pointer by moving it on the board."
His heart pounding in his chest, the brunet gulped and placed the rounded object on the board. Then, with his fingertips, he gently moved it, making eights and moving along the alphabet. He didn’t dare breathe. But the mansion was silent, and not a single animal howled in the distance in the forest. It was a most ordinary night, without even a sigh to make the candles’ flames ripple. A creak on the floor. Jonathan jumped and immediately turned his head toward the sound, into the darkest part of his room. He almost pulled his fingers off the pointer! And just as he was thinking this, he felt it. Before his eyes, the pointer moved slowly without him pushing it an inch. His heart skipped a beat.
"I-Is anyone in this room with me?"
His jaw dropped as an invisible force pushed the object to the Yes. It was real! He knew it! Eyes shining with hope, Jonathan asked, "Is that you, Mother?"
"Yes."
His mouth stretched into a big smile, but he caught himself. The journal said to always be wary of a spirit’s identity, and that it might be helpful to confirm it with a question. So, regaining his composure, Jonathan whispered, "If you’re really my mother, can you spell your name?"
Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes when the pointer moved successively on each letter forming the name Mary. It was her!
"Oh, Mother! I’ve been dreaming of talking to you for so long!"
With the back of his hand, Jonathan wiped his damp cheeks and grabbed the paper and pencil lying near the board. His whole body seemed to shake with jolts to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I…I don’t know where to start." He said. "Thank you for protecting me that day… and I’m sorry it cost you your life."
The board began to move again, and the scratching of his pencil lead as he wrote each letter on the paper broke the silence.
"I have no regrets."
A lump grew in his throat. So many times, and especially as the fatal anniversary approached, he had imagined the accident. So many times he had wondered if his mother would have preferred saving her life, and if she was angry with him for having indirectly caused her death.
"Every day, you show me I made the right choice."
"Every day?"
"I have always looked out for you."
Mary’s ghost then slid the pointer more slowly, as if she noticed that her son’s sight was now drowned in floods of tears.
"I love you, my darling."
"Mother, I miss you so much! I love you too!"
"Certainly less than me."
An amused hiccup escaped his throat, but as he was about to retort, a veil of heat fell over his body, and a deep feeling of relief invaded him. She was there, very close to him. Jonathan closed his eyes. But all good things must end, and he refrained from groaning as the heat left him, giving way to a terrible cold that gave him goosebumps.
"Go to bed now, Father won’t be happy."
He pouted. "But I still have so much to ask you!"
"Not this evening. Never use this board for too long. Say goodbye to me, my darling."
His fingers tingled, motionless on the piece of wood. Why so quickly? He bit his lip. Why now?
"At least she didn’t say she didn’t want to talk to me anymore." He thought, and a weight left his chest.
Then he slid the pointer towards the word Goodbye. But as he approached it, the piece of wood veered towards the other end of the board with such force that he almost pulled his fingers off it. With his free hand, he hastened to write the new letters.
"By the way, the answer to question 2 is 29."
Jonathan frowned, and a big smile lit up his face. His math problems.
The next day seemed to last forever, and the classes were even more boring than usual for Jonathan, whose mind was teeming with questions since last night’s session. Was his mother watching over him again? Did she come often? What was the afterlife like? No, it was a forbidden question, according to the notebook’s mysterious author... With one hand supporting his head, the brunet turned his head towards the window and the sun still too high, and sighed.
"Jojo, I hope you have done your exercises."
He jumped. His father stared at him, his face closed, waiting with his hand outstretched for his son to hand him his homework.
"Yes, Father."
Taking out his papers, he felt his breathing hitch as Lord Joestar read his copy, his brows furrowed.
"It’s… It’s very good, Jojo! You didn’t get any help, did you?"
"No!"
"Then, I’m proud of you," He smiled. "See? Mathematics is not that difficult."
His cheeks turned crimson. "Thank you..." He whispered.
When night fell and he heard his father close his bedroom door, Jonathan jumped out of bed and placed the Ouija board back on the floor. And like the day before, it didn’t take long before he got an answer.
"Mother, thanks again for the exercises! Did you see that?"
"Yes, my darling. But you have to learn to do them alone."
For the second time that day, red rose to his cheeks, but this time he looked away from the board as if his mother were staring at him with a reproachful look. But enough about math! He had a lot to ask her, and they began a discussion about the books in her private collection.
"What about that stone mask in the hall?" He asked. "There’s something written inside, but I don’t recognize this-"
The floor creaked, and Jonathan turned around. Nothing. Nothing but the darkness of his room, as always.
"Mother, was that you?"
"It’s just the wood working, Jojo." He thought. "You’ve heard these noises since you were born. Why would it be anything else today?"
Under his fingers, the pointer moved quickly.
"Good night, Jojo."
"What? But it’s even earlier than yesterday!"
"Please don’t use that board again. It’s d-"
The pointer stopped suddenly, and a cold wind made the candle flames flicker. Danny curled his lips.
"... Mother?"
It slowly began spelling a new word. "Boring."
Boring? His mother didn’t want him to use the Ouija board anymore because it was boring? His eyes remained fixed on the lonely D for a moment before his mouth opened.
"I’m not bored, I enjoy asking you question!"
"Really?"
"Of course!"
"Then we can talk all night…"
His heart leaped in his chest. Nothing could have made him happier! But the repeated nudging of his dog brought him back to reality, and the sight of his flattened ears made him feel like he had swallowed a stone. His mother had insisted that he go to sleep, and now she agreed to stay with him? What was happening on her side? He felt a tugging on his fingertips and, looking down, noticed the pointer moving again. The letters passed by too quickly, impossible to write them down, and the movement repeated as if instead of a word, the pointer formed... A heart? Yes, it was a heart! Warmth spread through his chest. But Danny was still groaning, and suddenly a heavy weight made his head bend. It only lasted a few seconds, and yet he had difficulty standing up, and he rubbed the back of his neck. What was that? As he glanced around, cold took hold of his insides, and the words passed his lips before he could stop himself.
"Am I still talking to Mary Joestar?"
The pointer moved to the bottom of the board, and Jonathan’s blood froze.
"No."
"S-So, who are you?"
The object moving alone was no longer fascinating. Who knew who was there, sitting across from him, handling the pointer with ghostly fingers so close to those of the young boy? His heart was racing.
"Dio."
"Dio?" Jonathan repeated. "Well… Nice to meet you! But I’m going to need a little more information than that…"
"I am a boy. I am thirteen."
A sigh escaped his lips. It was not an old creature or a monster hiding in front of him. "Oh, me too!" He tried to smile. "How long have you been here?"
"You heard me earlier."
Chills ran down Jonathan’s spine. The floor. There was definitely someone lurking in the shadows. Stop. The boy must have come for a reason. Maybe he needed help? He had often read that in ghost stories: a deceased person returned to Earth to ask a living one to fulfill their last wish. He gulped.
"All right. Did you want to ask me something?"
Danny’s lips remained curled.
"I haven’t talked to anyone in a long time."
Jonathan blinked. This young boy just wanted to talk with him? Why was he alone? Didn’t he have other ghosts to talk to? His chest tightened, and he relaxed.
"I know what it’s like to feel alone." He confessed. "I don’t have anyone to play with either, except Danny. You can stay with us."
The discussion turned out to be more complicated than expected, since unlike his mother’s ghost, he didn’t know what to say to this unknown child, and talking alone in the dark now seemed a little ridiculous. And it wasn’t like Dio was helping him: Jonathan had to keep thinking of new questions only answered by the silence of the night and the friction of the pointer on the board. Despite everything, he learned that his favorite color was red, that he didn’t like sweets, and that he loved reading. Then Jonathan yawned, and the pointer flew to Goodbye, which amused him a little. Rubbing his eyes, he said aloud, "Good night, Dio!"
In the daylight, the night scare gave way to curiosity, and Jonathan still couldn’t believe it. He had talked to a stranger’s ghost! Someone needed him! That morning, at breakfast, he had to hold back even more than the day before not to tell his father everything, but he would never have believed him. So, chewing a sausage, Jonathan used the silence to think about what he would ask Dio at nightfall. Because he would do it again, of course.
When was he born? What were his favorite books? How had he died? No, perhaps it was better to avoid the subject... Besides, he hadn’t thought about it, but if Dio was thirteen, that meant he had died very young. His heart sank. The poor boy perhaps had no family to turn to, no one to find in the afterlife. Perhaps his parents were still alive and, just as their son’s spirit couldn’t leave the earthly world, they were unable to grieve. His mother’s face came to his mind. His mother, whom he still missed even though he had only known her for a few months and had forgotten everything.
So he behaved like a model child the rest of the day and went to bed early. And like the previous nights, as soon as he heard nothing more than the wind and the creaking of the old building, Jonathan pushed back his blankets and lit the candles for a new session. He did the same the next evening, and the next, and so an entire week had passed. Each time, the same ritual occurred: Danny grunted and came to lie down against him, his warm body warming his shivering one, the pointer drew hearts on the board, and the flames of the candles flickered. Dio was there.
"Good evening, Jojo."
Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. He had told him that those close to him called him that, and for several evenings, his ghost friend had started using his nickname.
"I had an idea." He began. "It’s a shame I can’t see you, but I’m pretty good at drawing, so I figured you could describe yourself, and I’ll draw you."
"You want to see me?"
"Of course! So, what color is your hair?"
Under Dio’s direction, Jonathan traced the silhouette of a boy with a thin face, golden hair, and amber eyes shining like two topazes on the white page.
"Anything special?"
"Three moles on the left lobe."
Biting his tongue, Jonathan finished his drawing by adding the three small dots and stared at his work. It was one of his best sketches, far above the portraits of Danny he used to draw in his spare time, and his heart began to beat faster as he looked more closely at the boy depicted.
"Does it look like you?" He turned the drawing with one hand towards the empty space in front of him, his other one watching for the slightest movement of the pointer.
"Very."
A big smile split his face. The mystery had really inspired him, and it almost seemed his pencil was moving on its own! Looking at the portrait again, he blurted out, “Then you must be very handsome.”
Almost immediately, his face heated, and a sweet scent of roses filled the room. Jonathan looked up and sniffed. "Where does this smell come from? It smells so good…"
Danny rested his head on his knees.
"It’s me. If you smell roses, I am near you."
Jonathan’s hair stood on end again.
"You’re very beautiful yourself, Jonathan."
"Jonathan Joestar, are you listening to me?"
He jumped and opened his eyes. What time was it? Where was he? Little by little, his mind cleared, and he looked at the desk he was sitting behind, the walls of the study room, and his father’s displeased face, standing near a blackboard. His eyebrows jumped, and he exclaimed, "My apologies, Father. I closed my eyes for half a second and…"
Damn, for him not to call him Jojo, he must have really been annoyed…
"It’s not the first time." With a hand on his forehead, George Joestar sighed and said in a tone full of concern. "What’s happening to you, Jojo? You always look tired. If you spend your evenings reading instead of resting, I would have to forbid you from taking books out of the library."
Jonathan lowered his head. He couldn’t tell him that the day before, he had talked with Dio again until late at night. And even though he still enjoyed it just as much, their nightly conversations were starting to take a toll on him, and each morning, his body felt a little heavier than the day before, and the beginnings of a migraine seemed to creep up behind his eyes.
Faced with his silence, his father approached and touched his shoulder. "Jojo…Is something wrong?"
As Jonathan opened his mouth, a rose smell tickled his nostrils. The scent seemed to move and grow until it stopped very close to him, as if Dio were sitting at his table. He shook his head. "N-No, it’s okay. I’ll go to bed earlier tonight, Father. I am really sorry."
Unconvinced, the adult shrugged. "Very well. In that case, let’s resume the lesson."
The rose perfume was omnipresent. Wherever he went, whatever he did, Jonathan only had to find himself alone in a room in the mansion for his nose to catch the familiar scents. It was funny at first - he imagined Dio following him around like they were best friends - then saddened - didn’t the boy have anything else to do? - but after several days, as soon as the smell reappeared, his stomach would knot, and his skin would goosebumps, screaming at him to get away from the flowery perfume.
This situation exhausted him, and despite his promises and going to bed earlier, Jonathan always woke up as tired as the day before. So tired that his mind even played tricks on him sometimes! Just the day before, a servant had announced teatime, and he had rushed down the stairs to the living room when, passing a half-open door, he could have sworn he saw a grown man with blond hair with his back turned, sitting in an armchair.
A servant? Possibly, but when he retraced his steps and put his face to the door, all he saw was an empty armchair. And there was the scratching. It had started two nights before, always when he was getting ready to sleep, snug under his blankets. A board creaked in the corner of his room, like the first time he spoke to Dio, then the sound moved all around his room, slowly, making other boards creak and getting closer little by little.
"It’s only the wood," He repeated to himself, his eyes closed.
But behind his eyelids, he only saw a blonde figure sitting very close to him. His room smelled of roses.
"Jojo…"
Warm fingers dug into his hair while lips trailed down his cheek to pepper the nape of his neck with kisses. He clenched the sheets in his fist and tilted his head back. The lips stretched into a smile against his carotid artery and began to move again. A hand left his scalp and slid over his cheek and stomach, and he moaned softly as the butterflies flew into his lower abdomen. Then, fingers continued their course lower and lower, towards a burning spot, and he arched his back. Lower, lower, brushing against the limit of his pants and...
"Ah!"
Jonathan opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He was sweating profusely, his body was boiling, and his pants were sticking to him. Oh, no. Lifting his blanket, his heart leaped as his eyes confirmed what he already suspected, and he lit his oil lamp. Slowly, he left the warmth of his duvet for the cold hallway and headed towards the bathroom. Luckily, everyone was still sound asleep, and no one heard the water running when he rubbed his pajamas to remove both the white stain from his pajamas and the shame burning his cheeks.
This rarely happened to him, but this time it was more intense than the others... While he was still rubbing, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he turned towards the half-open door. Nothing. Nothing more than the darkness of the hallway. Jonathan stared at the door for a few moments, his hands frozen on the soap and his pajamas, and he shivered. When a few seconds later, a subtle scent of rose reached his nostrils, a stone fell into his stomach, and he ran out of the room.
"Dio, uh... What do you do when we’re not talking together?"
The dark circles under Jonathan’s eyes attested to how trying the last few days had been for the young boy. Besides his fatigue that he couldn’t get rid of, he now had to endure the same ritual every night: the footsteps on the parquet floor around his bed, which sometimes seemed to scratch the floor and which he had initially confused with Danny’s claws, who had also developed the bad habit of growling at the darkness and nuzzling against him. Then, when Jonathan finally managed to close his eyes, the dreams came back to torment him, each evening a little more precise. A pale hand, orange eyes, a blond lock caressing his cheek... And every morning, the same beating heart, the same stained pants, and the same indelible shame. The boy of his dreams looked like Dio, with his beautiful silky hair and angelic profile. He even saw him behind his eyelids, when he only closed his eyes for half a second. Jonathan didn’t know what to think about it anymore, which led him to put the pointer back on the Ouija board.
"You know," He gulped. "I smelled your perfume and… do you really have nothing else to do? Other people to see? I-"
The pointer slid to the other end of the board and drew hearts.
"You are my only friend."
His heart sank, but Danny’s wet nose against his arm reminded him of his mission, and he said, "You’re my friend too, Dio, but you don’t need to follow me everywhere." Cheeks burning, he lowered his head. "Some moments are… private, and I’d like them to stay that way. Even best friends don’t need to tell each other everything."
The pointer remained still and cold. Had he left? Had Jonathan upset him or made him angry? The answer came when his fingers were pulled towards the "I".
"I was alone for a very long time. I don’t want to be alone again."
The brunet wanted to protest, to still be angry about the bathroom, but after reading these few letters, the resentment had melted, leaving him with only a pang in his heart. "Why are you alone? Can’t you see other people? Don’t you have family waiting for you somewhere?"
"I can’t leave the mansion."
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why?"
After death, did some souls not only remain prisoners of the Earth but also of a specific place? Did this mean Dio died in the mansion? Instead of answering, the ghost explained, "My mother died when I was young. I miss her."
No one could understand him better than Jonathan.
"I lost my mother too. Do you know where she is now? Is there anything I could do so you can see her again?"
"You want to help me?"
"Of course, I care about you! If I can help you to… uh, get to the other side, I guess, I’ll do anything. But you need to respect my privacy more."
The pointer stopped moving, but he felt something warm on his cheek as if two lips had been pressed there.
"I am counting on you."
Despite the fatigue that made him yawn every ten minutes, Jonathan had more and more ability in math, to the great joy - and suspicion - of his father. It looked like his pencil was writing the right answers all by itself! But if this pleased him, his mood wasn’t at its highest because another kind of problem was occupying his mind: his… dreams, still more and more detailed night after night. He could no longer stand getting up before the sun to remove the stains from his pants, or imagining the knowing looks of the servants washing his clothes. What was happening to him? Now he could see Dio’s face clearly, from his crackling eyes to his soft lips against his neck. Sometimes, they even allowed themselves to wander near the corner of his lips, causing a swirl of butterflies in his belly. He waved his thoughts away.
Their nightly meetings had taken on a whole new interest when Dio had mentioned his mother. Since then, the two boys had never stopped painting portraits of the two women to whom they owed their lives, and Jonathan had to admit that a pang of jealousy always arose in his chest when thinking of all the memories that Dio had with his mother and of which he was deprived. His mother, to whom he hadn’t spoken in weeks, and the realization hit like a cold shower.
"Dio, please." He began. "Tomorrow evening, I’d like to contact my mother again. We can talk again the following evening."
The pointer slowly slid towards Goodbye.
"Young Master Jojo, your father wanted to see you in his office."
The servant had caught him in the entrance hall just before he left the mansion for a walk in the surrounding woods. An arm slipped through the sleeve of his coat, Jonathan thanked him and turned to Danny. "Sorry, I’ll be back in a few minutes," He sighed, scratching his friend’s ears.
But as he climbed the stairs, an uneasiness grew in his stomach. What did his father want from him? Had he heard about his… nighttime accidents? His cheeks burned just thinking about it. Reaching the oak door, he knocked and entered.
"You wanted to talk, Father?"
George put his papers back on his desk and gestured for him to sit. His serious expression didn’t bode well, and Jonathan’s heart pounded in his chest.
"Jojo, I noticed that lately…"
Oh no.
"…you do perfectly well on the math homework I give you."
He blinked. What?
"Um, yes, that’s true, but-"
"And I am very proud of your progress." His father cut him off, raising a hand in front of him. "But I can’t help but think these changes have been, how shall I put it, abnormally quick. So I would like you to be honest: is anyone helping you?"
Jonathan couldn’t believe his ears. He who went to great lengths to solve his horrible operations, and his own father didn’t believe him capable of doing them alone? Well, maybe he didn’t understand how he had made so much progress, but he was at least sure that he hadn’t asked for help! And his mother only gave him one answer...
"I swear, I did them alone."
His father raised his eyebrows, unconvinced, before handing him a paper. Jonathan’s eyes widened. Identical to the other housework, it was covered in formulas and operations that made less sense to the brunet than a story in Latin.
"I want you to do it in front of me. If you’re telling the truth, it should be easy."
He looked up at his father in panic before quickly lowering his eyes to the paper. Clutching a pencil and frowning, he looked at the first operation and then the next. Damn, he didn’t understand anything. After several minutes of solving the first question, his father sighed. "It’s okay, Jojo. I’ve seen enough."
"But, Father, I-!"
Why hadn’t the answers come to him this time? His pencil seemed so heavy in his clenched fist...
"No. Listen, Jojo, I don’t blame you for having difficulty with mathematics. I know you are more comfortable with other subjects. But I hate lies."
Suddenly, anger rose from the brunet’s insides, like a spark growing and growing to burn his body. How dare he? How could he? Not even hearing his father’s words anymore, he gritted his teeth until he finished and allowed him to leave the office. Jonathan still had his fists clenched when he arrived at the door where Danny was still waiting for him, and he noticed that to top it all off, it had started to rain. Never mind, he didn’t know how he would react if his father called him back, so he put on his coat, took an umbrella, and slammed the door behind him.
"Can you believe it?" He shouted once outside.
His face red with anger, he kicked a pile of dead leaves and continued to curse until they reached the edge of the forest. But once among the trees, where his nostrils filled with the sweet scent of damp earth and the leaves dotted the ground like thousands of flames, his fists unclenched, and his anger vanished. Jonathan sighed and took several deep breaths. It had been a long time since he had felt this light. Forgetting his problems, he spent the afternoon playing with his dog, jumping in puddles, and collecting pine cones. Only the setting sun and the cold forced him to return to the mansion.
"Come home quickly, young master Jojo! I prepared your bath!"
Jonathan looked up and saw a maid waving at him from the window.
"Coming!" He quickened his pace.
But just then, something caught his eye at the nearby window: a blond man was standing behind the curtain, watching him. Jonathan blinked, and the man disappeared, leaving him wondering if he had really been there or if the boy had only imagined it. He shivered.
As he was now used to, Jonathan lit the candles on the floor of his room and sat cross-legged in front of the Ouija board. After caressing Danny, he gently moved the pointer until it escaped his grasp and headed towards the letter G.
"Good evening, Jojo."
His heart skipped a beat. "A-Am I talking to Mary Joestar?"
"Yes, my darling. It’s been a while."
Jonathan felt his eyes watering, and he quickly wiped them with the back of his sleeve. He shouldn’t have asked: there was a soft and peaceful atmosphere in the room, very different from the one he had become accustomed to when he spoke with Dio. But he didn’t have time to regain his composure: the pointer was already moving along the board to form a sentence that made his eyes widen.
"Don’t use the board anymore."
They hadn’t spoken in a while, had almost never been able to, and she replied like this? Had he done something wrong? Had he upset her?
"Why? I want to talk to you. I’m sorry I haven’t had time to do it lately..."
"I love you, my dear Jojo. I will always love you, even if you can’t see me."
These words he had dreamed of hearing so much made a ball of warmth bloom in his chest, but yet his throat tightened as he read the sentence and he restrained himself from holding back the pointer so it wouldn’t go any further. He didn’t understand why, but it was his mother’s farewell.
"Burn it. It’s very dangerous."
"But if I do that, I’ll never be able to-"
"Dangerous."
The pointer was moving so fast that he had trouble writing the letters.
"The notebook."
"The one I found with the board? Do you know who wrote it?"
"Dio is not who he says he is. His real name is-"
The pointer flew to the other side of the room and crashed against the wall. Heart pounding, Jonathan cried out and covered his mouth with a trembling hand. He stayed like that for an eternity, holding his breath to be as still as possible, but everything was silent. Danny suddenly perked up his ears.
And the candles went out.
"No!"
Everything happened too fast. The Great Dane jumped up and barked, and a gigantic weight knocked the brunet over. His shoulder hit the floor and made him cry out in pain. He tried to stand up, but something held him down. Something that Danny’s turned-up lips and long canines scared away because as soon as his faithful friend stood by his side, he finally got up and threw himself on the oil lamp to light it.
Nothing.
The room was empty and nothing seemed unusual except for the pointer and the discarded board on the floor. Jonathan puffed out his chest and emptied it several times without being able to calm his heartbeat. What had happened? A sharp pain in his arm took him away from these concerns. Walking towards the mirror, he unbuttoned his pajamas and widened his eyes: five long scratches stretched down his arm.
"I don’t know what’s going on, but I won’t use the Ouija anymore." He said, glancing at the portrait of his mother.
And he jumped into bed. That night, Jonathan hid from running footsteps around his bed by burying his head under the covers. Several times he felt like something was pulling on his blanket, and each time he curled up a little further under his fortress, ignoring the stifling heat and closing his eyes, trying to convince himself that it was just the wood. After an eternity, everything became silent again, so he allowed himself to peek outside.
There was a large black shadow next to his door.
Jonathan didn’t sleep that night. How could he, with that thing lurking in the corner of his room? Just thinking about it was enough to make chills run down his spine. Yet it was the fear of another monster that made him drag his feet to the breakfast table.
"Hello Jojo." His father took a sip of his cup of tea. "Did you sleep well last night?"
Was that obvious? Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the adult and replied, "Not really…"
Should he tell him about the shadow? About the scratches? No, he didn’t want his father to think he was crazy, as well as a liar. So he looked down at his scrambled eggs and brought the fork to his mouth. His stomach was full of stones, and the smell of breakfast made him nauseous.
"Jojo," his father began, "I was a little hard on you yesterday."
Jonathan sat up as if he had been stung.
"I know you’re trying. Maybe I was too hasty, or I explained poorly. If you promise not to ask for help again, we will repeat the chapters seen previously as many times as necessary."
Hearing that he still didn’t believe him still hurt, but he would have been a fool to refuse, so he nodded and thanked his father. His appetite returned a little after that, and as promised, he spent the day in their small study room going over boring formulas and theorems. When he yawned for the third time in a few minutes, and his pen began to draw waves, Lord Joestar put down his wooden wand and placed a warm hand on his son’s shoulder.
"You worked well. Go and rest, Jojo."
He didn’t need to ask twice: Jonathan headed towards the tea room where his snack was already waiting for him. Hunger returned at the sight of the pastries, and he forgot all about mathematics and the black shadow near his door.
At least until dinner. When he sat down at the table, his father glanced at him with a look as severe as it was worried, and he gulped audibly. "Is there something wrong?"
"Jojo, Mrs. Morris told me she found something in your room. Something that absolutely shouldn’t be there."
Jonathan frowned, and the adult placed the Ouija board on the table. He turned pale. Damn, he forgot to hide it in his wardrobe!
"Where did you find it?"
"In the attic, but I don’t understand what-"
"Have you used it?"
Jonathan bit his lip and nodded slowly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, his father sighed. "To talk to your mother, right?"
Another nod.
"I guess it’s my fault. If I talked to you more often about her, you wouldn’t-"
"She answered me, you know. She told me she didn’t blame me for the accident."
"It doesn’t matter!" His father slammed his fist on the table, startling him. "Did he answer you?"
"He?"
With shining eyes, his father stammered, "I don’t want to say his name out loud. None of them. But he manifests himself by forming hearts on the board."
Jonathan’s mouth went dry. "Are you talking about Dio?"
His father flinched. "Jojo, I forbid you from using this board again. The Ouija board is not a game, and I had a good reason for locking it in the attic."
He didn’t know where this sudden anger came from, but seeing the adult brandish the board in front of him and threaten to burn it, rage boiled in the pit of his stomach and grew until it infected every corner of his mind. His father fell, was poisoned, stabbed to death... Murderous images flashed before his eyes like palpable possibilities.
"If he takes my board, I’ll stick a knife in his heart."
Where did these thoughts come from? He had never been so angry...
"Go to your room."
Jonathan ran away from his thoughts.
Even lying under his blanket, he couldn’t stop panting. His body burned, his fingers tingled, and his heart raced. What was happening to him? He didn’t want to use it anymore, anyway! It seemed like something was screaming at him to be angry... Jonathan tossed and turned in his bed, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Yes, sleep was what he needed now. He was upset because he hadn’t slept. His eyes already closing, he didn’t notice his mattress sinking and a weight moving up to his level.
The caresses on his neck made him shiver with pleasure while sharp teeth nibbling his nipples drew a moan from him.
"Aah…"
He opened his eyes. And everything stopped.
"Hello Jojo."
Jonathan was lying in a meadow, dressed in his day clothes, and next to him was a boy about his age, with shiny blond hair and wearing an outfit similar to his. Dio, true to his portrait. But looking at him now, Jonathan also noticed two small horns on the top of his head, and a forked tail, leaving no doubt about the real identity of his “friend”.
"So it’s true, you’re a demon."
The reality of the situation hit, and he jumped back. With a sigh, Dio got up and approached him.
"People always react like this when they discover my true nature." He crouched down and stroked the brunet’s cheek. "I’m a little disappointed. I thought you would be more open-minded."
"Open-minded?" Jonathan cried. "You lied to me! I thought you were the ghost of a child who died in the mansion! Why?"
"I didn’t lie to you! It had really been a long time since I had spoken to anyone, since I had a friend. Because yes, I thought you were that true friend I had been looking for."
Jonathan looked away.
"At first, I just wanted to chat with you…"
"What do you mean, at first? What changed?"
"When we talked about our mothers." Dio sat against him, his skin as cold as ice. "It wasn’t a lie either. Demons and humans aren’t that different, and when we broached the subject, I realized how much I missed my mom."
Jonathan’s heart sank against his will.
"But I’ve been a prisoner in the mansion for so many years, and she’s outside, so we can’t see each other."
"Why are you locked up in my house?"
"One of your ancestors trapped me here."
His eyes widened. "I had a demon-hunting ancestor? Did he write the diary?"
"Yes… Anyway, there is a way to-"
"Why did he lock you up? What was his name?"
Sparks flashed in Dio’s eyes. "Because I’m a demon. No other reason. I never hurt anyone, but because I was born that way, he thought my mother and I were horrible creatures, and we were separated."
"Oh…"
Jonathan looked down before remembering his parents’ reaction when they learned he was using the board. "My parents are afraid of you. They don’t want me to talk to you."
Grabbing his hands, Dio forced him to look at him and whispered, "They, too, fear my nature. Your father and I talked for entire evenings when he was your age, but as soon as he realized what I was, he got rid of the board and left me in the attic."
He added, "I just want to find my mom, nothing more. Please, Jojo, I’m asking you as a friend. Will you help me?"
Jonathan bit his lip, his hands still in Dio’s. He looked at his claws and the tips of his blackened fingers, his horns, his forked tail wrapped around his arm, and his amber eyes whose pupils looked like a cat’s. Despite this, his face was still as angelic as the one in his drawing, and his gaze seemed sincere... But how could he know when Jonathan’s heart had so often been considered his greatest weakness?
"H-How could I free you? I don’t know anything about-"
"It doesn’t matter. I only need one thing: a kiss."
His body tensed and he blushed furiously. "What?!"
"It’s the truth. For creatures like us, proof of love is the best way to break a curse."
Jonathan turned the question over in his head until it hurt. Could he trust Dio? All the stories he had heard about demons involved people getting hurt but his chest ached whenever he thought about the memories of their nights spent talking and of the lies he had told him... He no longer knew how to separate the true from the false. But regardless, if the demon could reach him in his dreams, no longer using the board would do no good, he would never let him go, and Jonathan just wanted everything to stop. Everything so as not to relive a night like the night before.
"If I release you, will you promise to leave me alone?"
"So that’s how little you care about our friendship? But be it. If that’s your wish, you will never hear from me again."
Jonathan bit his cheek and raised his hand to Dio’s face. His whole body seemed numb from extreme fatigue. Then, as the blond closed his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his lips against his. They were ice cold. But when Dio put his hands behind his neck and pressed his pelvis against his, butterflies fluttered in his lower abdomen, and the demon put his tongue into his mouth. His body and heart burning, Jonathan closed his eyes and hoped he had made the right choice.
When Jonathan woke up, the sun had long since risen. He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and pushed back his covers. He hadn’t slept that well in a long time. After washing and dressing, he walked past Danny and went downstairs to have a well-deserved breakfast, of which he savored every bite. Then he followed his father’s lesson, who congratulated him on his progress and read books in their library.
At dinner, George Joestar announced, "Jojo, I have a business meeting in London next week. How about coming with me?"
"It would be my pleasure, Father." He smiled as he cut his meat.
Everything was back to normal, just like before he used the Ouija board for the first time.
No one noticed his eyes were amber.