Milo's Journey

Chapter 6

“A medium works with many spirits,” Milo said, smiling at Adriana, “but as I told you before, there is always one principal spirit who guides and governs the others. My principal is Negro Juanito. That is his public name—the name others may know. But he has a secret name, known only to me. That is the name I whisper in my prayers, and the name I call in emergencies. He never fails to answer it, even if he is on the other side of the world.”

“Do all muertos have secret names?” Adriana asked eagerly. “Do you give them the name, or do they choose it? How do they get them?”

Milo laughed softly at her enthusiasm. “Yes, all the dead have secret names. We don’t give them those names—they share them with us once a relationship of trust has been established. A secret name is a word of power. It carries the essence of the one who bears it.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Adriana watched closely as a form began to take shape over Milo’s left shoulder. As it became clearer, she recognized the African warrior whose statue stood beside Milo’s altar—El Negro Juanito.

“Hello, old man,” Milo said with a smile, his eyes still closed. “Can you open the gate for Estrella del Monte?”

Of course, caballito. She has been called.

Adriana shivered as the deep bass voice resonated through the room. Then she heard the faint sound of castanets, soft at first, then clearer. A beautiful gypsy dancer appeared at Milo’s right side. She touched his shoulder and slowly stroked the back of his neck.

The air seemed to hum with energy.

Suddenly, the gypsy vanished, leaving only El Negro Juanito standing watchfully at Milo’s left shoulder.

Before Adriana could speak, Milo’s eyes opened. His pupils were dilated. Then he laughed—but the sound was distinctly feminine.

“Hola, Adrianita,” Milo said, extending his hand, palm down. “This one is very happy to meet you.”

Adriana hesitated. “Um… hello. Who are you?”

“This one is Estrella del Monte.”

Milo rose from his chair and began to dance. The flamenco movements were fluid and sensuous, his hands carving the air as if guided by music only he could hear. His head tilted slightly, listening.

“Can you not hear the music?” Estrella said through Milo’s voice. “Come—give in to the dance.”

Adriana took the offered hand and stood. It was strange seeing Milo’s body move so differently, knowing it was not truly him in control. Estrella led her gently, and as Adriana focused, she began to hear music—faint at first, then vivid. It seemed to heat her blood. Her feet followed the steps as if she had danced flamenco a hundred times before.

Suddenly, she felt flushed, feverish—then, just as quickly, chilled, as though icy water had been poured over her.

“Give in to her,” Estrella murmured. “She only wishes to greet you and dance.”

“Who?” Adriana asked, dizzy now.

“Your gitana.”

Estrella began to sing, using Milo’s beautiful tenor voice.

Gitana, gitana, gitana mía.
Gitana, gitana, gitana bella.
(Gypsy, gypsy, my gypsy. Gypsy, gypsy, beautiful gypsy.)

The words seemed to pull the ground out from beneath Adriana’s feet. Darkness rushed up to meet her, and she felt herself falling.

“Adriana. Adriana.”

Milo was kneeling over her. He cupped his hands and blew sharply into her right ear, then the left. He pressed his palms firmly onto her shoulders, grounding her, then lifted her hands quickly and brought them back down, shaking her gently.

“I’m okay,” Adriana whispered. “I’m okay… What happened? Where’s Estrella del Monte?”

“She’s gone,” Milo said calmly, sitting back. “Negro Juanito asked her to step aside when your gitana took possession. He felt it was safer for me to return fully while you experienced your first trance.”

“My first possession?” Adriana said softly. “I only remember dancing… and then feeling dizzy.”

She glanced at her watch. Two hours had passed.

“Estrella recognized your gypsy spirit in your spiritual court,” Milo explained. “She invited her out for a dance.”

“I have a gypsy spirit?” Adriana asked, stunned.

“Yes,” Milo replied. “And she is very old—older even than Estrella del Monte. She’s powerful. Tell me—have you ever tried reading cards?”

“I have a deck of antique Spanish playing cards,” Adriana said slowly. “I found them at an estate sale at the last post my father was stationed at. I felt drawn to them and begged my mother to buy them for me.”

Milo smiled. “Bring them next lesson. Let’s see what your gypsy can do.”

He checked his watch. It was 4:15—just enough time to walk Adriana back to the house before her father arrived.

They reached the front yard just as Colonel Santana’s SUV pulled up. He stepped out as Adriana ran to hug him.

“Hola, Drinita,” he said warmly. “How was your first lesson?”

“I met Milo’s gypsy,” Adriana said excitedly, “and that’s about all I remember!”

“Your daughter is a natural,” Milo said. “She experienced her first trance possession today. For most mediums, it takes much longer to reach that point.”

“Was she safe?” the colonel asked, concern evident.

“She was in good hands,” Milo replied. “And the property is protected on all sides. I would never let anything happen to Adriana.”

“Thank you, Milo,” Colonel Santana said, shaking his hand.

“Next Saturday—same time?” Milo asked Adriana.

“Yes,” she said eagerly. “Is that okay, Papa?”

“Absolutely, mija. Come on—your mama’s making bacalao for dinner.”

Adriana climbed into the SUV, fastening her seatbelt.

“Bye, Milo!” she called out the window, waving energetically.

“Bye, Adriana,” Milo said, watching the car disappear down the road. “See you at school.”