The rain had begun to fall in earnest. It pattered on the roof and dripped down through the hole, trickling into the pools of stagnant water beneath the moldy old boards. The air smelled of dust and wet dirt.
“Spirits of Earth, guide me through the Nether Realm. Great Angels of Eternity, protect me. Voices of the Unending, strengthen me.”
I didn’t feel so numb anymore. There was a tingling in my fingertips and the tips of my toes. I felt like a block of ice had been set in my stomach. The Killer’s eyes still stared.
Watching.
Waiting.
“With this power granted unto me, I issue this command.” I made my voice as demanding as possible. With the chalk in my hand, I wrote a final symbol on the old floorboards in the center of the circle, beneath the cup of oil. A symbol which, I could only guess, was a name.
“I call upon this servant of Hell! I demand thee come forth, make of yourself flesh and bone.” I traced over the symbol again and again as I spoke, thickening the lines and grating the chalk into every little crevice of the wood. “I demand thee come without aggression, I demand thee bring no harm to your summoner, I demand thee come in obedience and — fuck…shit!”
The chalk snapped. The force I’d been applying to it slammed my hand down and scraped my knuckles against the wooden boards, hard enough to cut. Hard enough to bleed.
Wincing, I held up my hand to the camera’s light. Blood welled up, and dripped slowly down from my knuckles onto the floor. Damn it. Something told me this place was far from sanitary. I scrambled up, and rummaged around in my backpack. I needed an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit and —
My eyes widened. My breath froze in my lungs.
The blood that had dripped into the chalk circle was steaming.
I stared in disbelief. There had to be an explanation. My blood was hot and the air was cold so…so it would steam, of course. But it wasn’t just steaming, it was coagulating. The droplets thickened, they shuddered, they began to run together. They gathered over the symbols I’d written in the circle and sunk into the letters, turning them red.
No…no, no, no, this was could not be happening.
The reddened chalk melted across the boards, spreading like thick, liquidus wax. The redness filled the circle completely, stopping right at the edge of the chalk. The steam darkened, becoming thick black smoke that filled the space with the smell of charcoal. My chest tight with panic, I slipped on the straps of my backpack and lingered nervously behind the camera. It was still recording. I was capturing all of this…this was the evidence I’d been searching for, hoping desperately for.
What the hell had I done?
The camera’s flash flickered. The church groaned as if a hurricane was pressing upon it. Adrenaline flooded me, telling me to run. Some deep, primal instinct filled my head with one unending cry: danger, danger, danger. This was the lion in the grass, the predator in the dark. My heart beat against my ribs as my legs tingled with the desire to flee.
The camera’s flash went out; it audibly burst with the sound of shattering glass. In the candles’ flickering orange glow, the smoke began to take shape. It became tall, humanoid…
It opened its eyes, and they were gold.
I did love making a dramatic entrance.
I’d known it was coming. Even as I left Kent that late night, flipping him off as I vanished into the ether, it was with the knowledge that I’d likely be dragged back in front of a summoner sooner rather than later. I couldn’t really leave Abelaum yet anyway, now could I? Someone out there had the grimoire, and that meant some little mortal’s fingers would be itching to try their hand at the magic contained within. I needed the damn book, I needed my mark in it destroyed. I wasn’t the only demon whose name was within it, but with my luck, I’d be the one chosen.
Lucky me.
They’d called me Killer as a warning, but somehow that just made me more appealing, didn’t it? Curious mortal minds couldn’t resist the danger.
I sent out smoke ahead of me. I brought the wind, I encouraged the rain, I filled the space with the scent of burning. Whoever dared summon me would know they were in over their heads. With luck, they’d make a mistake, they’d flee, they’d step outside their protective circle and when they did — oh, when they did, I’d make them scream. Most mortals weren’t so lucky to possess a protective amulet, like Kent had. It was the only reason I hadn’t killed him in all the years he’d held me captive, and his father before him, and his grandfather before that.
The room came into focus — a high steepled ceiling and ancient boards. The smell of dust and mold, flesh and blood…mint and sage? My gaze pierced through the dark, through the smoke, toward the punitive figure standing there, wide brown eyes staring at me through her glasses.