by Mandy Lee
“What right did you have not to tell me?” Katia jumped in, twisting her hands in her lap.
Sergei slumped down further in his seat. “You already felt different enough, I didn’t want to make it worse. It was pretty obvious that you had no idea. I’ve been trying to put the pieces of what you are together. I’ve been going through all the grimoires at my disposal, talking to my contacts. I’m so sorry, Katia. I just didn’t want to hurt you...but it seems like I managed to anyhow.”
Nodding, Katia looked down at the pentagram drawn on the floor. Her purse and keys rested in the middle of the diagram. Frowning, she motioned toward them and raised her eyebrows at Sergei in question.
“I was doing a locator spell to try and find you.” He said. “Something was blocking me. I couldn’t get a read on you.”
“She was in Outer-Sheol.” Luc said, stepping forward. “Your type of magic is only useful in the human realm.”
Sergei sat bolt upright. “You took her to hell? Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Long story,” Luc said calmly. “Look, we came here because we need your help.”
“With what?”
“We’re trying to get Katia out of a nasty situation. To do that, we need information we can’t get from our side of the playing field. The chance of discovery is too high if we go through demonic channels.”
“Let me get this straight. You need me to summon help from the light to help a bunch of demons save my friend,” Sergei said doubtfully.
Katia shook her head. “Not demons, Sergei, angels. Well, fallen angels anyway.”
Looking at his visitors incredulously, realization suddenly dawned on him. “You want me to summon angels...” The men nodded soberly.
Sighing, Sergei motioned toward the books strewn across every flat surface of his living room. “If you want me to do this, you’ll need to give me a hand finding the Grand Grimoire. Look for the title Le Dragon Rouge. Angels are not fans of being summoned, so you’d all better have my back when they show up, they'll be pissed off.”
The group launched into action, everyone riflling through the disorder Sergei had left in his wake. Kneeling down on the floor, Katia drew a stack of books toward herself. The bindings were all leather, well-worn, and looked centuries old. Most were hand inscribed, with finely detailed artwork. These collected works would be worth a fortune to any bookseller. Some of the titles were terrifying — others mystifying — Malleus Maleficarum, Compendium Maleficarum, Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis, Dictionnaire Infernal, and finally Le Dragon Rouge. This grimoire was evidently much older than the rest, the leather heavily cracking, the cover having been repaired multiple times over the centuries. There were five or six-hundred pages of hand-scribed incantations that appeared to be written in an early French derivative. As she flipped carefully through the brittle pages, Katia knew she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Dragging herself back up onto the couch, Katia dropped the book into Sergei’s lap. “Found it.”
Sergei opened the enormous volume to the table of contents, sliding his finger down the entries, easily reading the obscure language as though it was a pulp fiction novel he’d just picked up from the drug store. Shaking her head, Katia wondered if anything in her life would ever be normal again. Snatching a pen and paper off the side table to his left, Sergei began to make notations, listing all of the items he required to perform the ritual. The group watched him in silence for several minutes. Suddenly, a cell phone alarm began to go off, jerking everyone out of their thoughts. Hands frantically reached into pockets, pulling out a small army of smart phones.
“Sorry, that’s me.” Amir said, unlocking his phone and turning off the screeching alarm.
With a disgusted look on his face, B turned toward Amir. “What the hell man? Who sets their alarm for six o’clock in the morning? That’s an unholy time to be getting up.”
Rolling his eyes, Amir stuffed his phone back into his coat pocket. “Listen, bud, some of us have jobs to get to in the morning.”
“Highly overrated,” B said dismissively.
“Lazy jackass,” Amir shot back at him with a teasing smile. No matter how flippant or crass B seemed to get, you couldn't help but like him.
Clearing his throat loudly to cut through the conversation, Sergei held up his hastily scrawled list to the group. “I need a few things if I’m going to do this. Hopefully between the bunch of you, we’ll be covered.”
“Shoot. What do you need from us?” Luc said, urgency evident in his voice.
Looking over his list again quickly, Sergei nodded and looked back up at Luc. “You’re fallen angels. But he’s not, am I right?” He said, pointing at Amir.
Nodding, Luc replied, “Right, he’s a demon.”
“That's what I thought. Would he be willing to donate some blood for the ritual?” Sergei asked.
“Oh, for Sheol’s sake!” Amir spat out in annoyance. “He’s right here! Why don’t you ask him directly? Or do you have a problem with demons, witch?”
Sergei took a deep breath and looked Amir in the eye. “No, I don’t have a problem with demons. I figured you might have a problem with me. My people have quite the history of summoning and enslaving demons.”
Irritation subsiding, Amir nodded slowly. “Makes sense, but it’s the farthest thing from anyone’s mind right now, so let’s get on with it. Yes, I’ll give you some blood.”
Luc nodded to Amir in appreciation. “Thanks, man.”
“Thank you.” Came Katia’s quiet voice from across the room. “You all have no real reason to help me, so thank you for this.”
The four men across the room fidgeted uncomfortably at Katia’s thanks, as though it was something they were no longer accustomed to receiving. Even Sergei looked slightly uncomfortable, as though his omission of truth overruled his right to receive gratitude for his current actions. Clearing his throat again, Sergei broke the tension by explaining the ritual. “Goetic magic is all about maintaining a balance — just like everything else, action and reaction, dark and light. Summoning spells require sacrifice. The blood is the sacrifice but, to keep the balance, we need a sacrifice of both dark and light. The demon blood is the dark, so I’ll also need blood from the light…an angel, or in this case a fallen angel should work.”
Luc shuffled his feet uncomfortably, warring emotions flickered across his face. Every eye in the room was locked on him expectantly. Katia looked at him with hope in her eyes, something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on fluttered like a butterfly in her gut. His eyes settled on her face and he nodded slowly. “I’m in.”
Rising to his feet, Sergei went to a large wooden cabinet against the far wall. Reaching into the collar of his shirt, he removed a chain with a large metal key from around his neck. Fitting the key into the antique lock, Sergei opened the cabinet, revealing an assortment of stoppered glass bottles that contained a variety of powders and herbs. The two bottom shelves were virtually empty, save a few books. This was clearly where he had stored the grimoires.
Removing a bottle from the top shelf, along with a mortar, pestle and a silver dagger, Sergei placed the items on the coffee table and knelt down. He removed the stopper and shook some of the powder into the mortar, replaced the stopper, and set it back on the table. Taking the silver dagger in his right hand and raising his left above the bowl, Sergei closed his eyes briefly. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and sliced into his palm, allowing the blood to flow freely, mixing with the powder.
Luc stepped toward him holding out a linen napkin he had found sitting in a pile on the buffet. Nodding his thanks, Sergei wrapped his hand, wiping the blood-coated blade against the material to clean it as best he could. Sergei held out the knife. Amir stepped forward and repeated the same process, allowing his blood to mix with the contents of the bowl. Turning toward Luc, Amir held out the dagger hilt first. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Luc reached out and grabbed it. He knelt down in front of the table, raising his left
hand above the mortar, dagger pressed against his palm. The tip of the blade pricked his skin allowing a bead of blood to form. Staring at the ruby droplet, Luc was struck, as always, that it still ran red and not an oily black. Luc made one sure slash downwards. Squeezing his hand into a fist, Luc allowed his blood to flow freely into the bowl. With each drop that fell, the air in the room thickened. You could almost taste the magic. Setting the blade down on the table, Luc reached over and picked up another napkin, opening his palm and wrapping the deep gash that would heal in a matter of minutes. Moving around the coffee table, Luc sat down on the couch beside Katia. She took hold of Luc’s uninjured hand, giving it a light squeeze in thanks.
Sergei mixed the contents of the bowl, then drew a circle of blood around the pentagram. Looking up at the group, he explained. “The circle of blood is drawn in protection. It prevents the beings that are summoned from harming the summoner.” Turning back to the pentagram, Sergei began to chant in low tones, the language unfamiliar to Katia. He slowly walked the perimeter of the circle, his chanting growing in volume with each revolution.
The fallen angels suddenly stiffened in unison, the spell meant to summon angels calling to whatever light was left in each of them. Making one last pass around the circle, Sergei stopped at each point of the pentagram, blowing out the candles one by one. As he blew out the final candle he reached into the center of the pentagram and placed a quartz stone on the floor. Straightening, he raised his arms to the sky, saying the final words of the incantation in English. “So mote it be.” A cold breeze blew through the room, then there was nothing. No movement, no sound, only the looks of confusion and disappointment being exchanged. A few moments of silence passed, when suddenly the candles at each point of the pentagram burst into flame. Raising his eyebrow as he turned back to the group, Sergei shot them a tight smile. “And now we wait.”
Chapter Eleven
Michael heaved a huge sigh. How many of those grimoires were left? It had been at least two centuries since he’d felt a summoning spell. He’d hoped the books had all been destroyed or lost to time. He strode down the long marble corridor of Heofon, headed toward the room that housed the archives.
If he had to deal with the annoyance of being summoned to earth, he was damned-well going to bring some company. He walked through the large double doors and scanned the room, spotting the pair of angels he was after at a table in the corner poring over an enormous volume. Leila, an angel of hope, was a relatively newborn angel, having only been around for a few centuries. She was under the tutelage of Uriel. Formerly a warrior like Michael, he was now a respected angelic scholar.
Moving quietly, Michael made his way through the massive room. Solid-gold shelves stacked full of books rose from floor to ceiling, covering all four walls. The history of everything — the light, the dark, and humankind were recorded in those volumes. Younger angels spent years studying here, the trials and tribulations that had affected the light, and how to maintain the balance with the dark. The looming shelves never failed to intimidate. Even Michael felt the weight of time pressing down on him.
As he reached their table, Leila looked up at him and smiled. She was the ideal image of an angel of hope. Her smile was wide and bright, her long blond hair fell down around her shoulders in perfect golden ringlets highlighted by the aura of her angelic glow. Her clear blue eyes sparkled with life, joy, and positive energy.In contrast, the angel beside her looked like a dark avenger. Uriel’s jet black hair hung straight down brushing the shoulders of his snow white shirt. He raised his head to look at Michael, his emerald eyes piercing. There was darkness in them, a pain that had penetrated his ancient soul.
“How can we help you, my brother?” Uriel asked. Rarely did the angels address each other by name, using only brother and sister among themselves, considering each other family.
“I’ve been touched by a summoning spell and hoped you would both join me,” Michael replied.
Eyebrows raised, Uriel placed a marker in the page of the book he and Leila had been studying and flipped it closed with a bang. “A human summoning? It’s been quite some time since the last.”
“Yes,” Michael said on a sigh. “I’d hoped we’d seen the end of that, clearly I was mistaken.”
“Apparently,” Uriel replied, steepling his fingers and resting his chin against their tips. “This could be a good learning experience for our young sister. Her presence may be helpful if the summoner is in crisis; hope can solve many ills.” Uriel turned his head to face Leila. “Do you feel prepared to join us?”
Smiling brightly, Leila nodded. “Yes. I’ve longed to venture into the human realm. I’m almost done with my studies and will be spending considerable time among the humans shortly, so this would be the perfect preparatory mission in the company of two of my most respected brothers.”
Rising from the table, Leila and Uriel joined Michael and they made the long walk out of the archive. They made their way onto a large semi-circular balcony, where they were surrounded by angels vanishing in blinding flashes of light as they shot off the balcony into the cloudless azure sky. Facing his companions, Michael placed his palms gently on their forheads; closing his eyes, he visualized the shining thread of the spell connecting him to the one who had cast it. Pushing his thoughts toward his companions, Michael was able to share the pull of the spell. Opening their eyes, the trio nodded to each other in confirmation. Stepping to the edge of the balcony, they spread their wings wide and jumped, a blinding pulse of light was all that was left as they took to the air. Moving faster than the human eye could track, the angels sped through the skies, homing in on the beacon of the summons, the shining psychic thread growing stronger as they neared their target. The city came into view below them. Narrowing in on the building that housed the source of the magic, the trio came down on the roof, the bright flash from their landing appearing to the average human observer as a ray of sun glinting off the glass enclosure of the roof terrace. As protocol dictated, they folded their wings up tight and muttered the incantation that would hide them from human eyes. Michael turned to his two companions, and raised a questioning eyebrow as he motioned toward the machine room entrance. “Elevator or stairs?”
Clapping her hands in excitement, Leila turned to Michael. “Oh please, can we take the elevator? I’ve never ridden in one and I’d love to try it!”
Glancing at each other over Leila’s head, Michael and Uriel exchanged amused looks. Oh to be newly discovering the human world, every experience like a shiny gift waiting to be unwrapped. Looking back down at Leila, Michael took on an indulgent tone. “Of course we’ll take the elevator; however, compared to flight, you will find the experience less than exhilarating.”
Leila looked unconcerned. “That’s fine. As we’re taught, every experience is of value.” With that she skipped off toward the door of the machine room, trailed closely by her companions.
They entered the machine room and walked down the short flight of stairs to the elevator door. Michael reached out and pushed the call button, chuckling to himself as Leila practically vibrated with excitement. A few moments later the call light stopped glowing and the elevator doors opened with a ding. The trio stepped in and Michael pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. The elevator doors slid shut and it began its descent. The floors counted down on the LED screen near the door as Michael cringed at the awful easy-listening music that filtered through the hidden speakers. Finally reaching their destination, the elevator dinged again and the doors opened onto a long hallway that was a study in beige. Feeling the pull of the spell, Michael turned right, followed by Leila and Uriel. As he neared the correct door, he felt pinpricks of energy all over his body like tiny needles. He’d always hated that feeling, like there were insects with sharp spiny legs crawling all over him. Raising his hand, Michael knocked on the door and adopted his most annoyed expression for the benefit of the human who’d had the gall to call on him. It wouldn’t do for this to become a regular occurrence. Moments
later the door swung open to reveal a slightly dishevelled man who looked as though he was in dire need of a nap.
“You called?” Michael said, using his most bored tone.
The man let out a heavy sigh and waved the small group into the entryway, closing the door behind them. “I realize you’d rather not be responding to my summons, but thank you for coming. I’m Sergei, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Sergei. Michael, Uriel, and Leila at your service,” Michael replied, gesturing at each angel in turn. Uriel nodded in greeting, Leila gifted Sergei with one of her brightest smiles. “Now, what do you want?”
Uriel turned to Michael. “Can you at least pretend to care? We wouldn’t want to develop a general reputation for rudeness; it doesn’t seem very angelic.”
Waving his hand in dismissal, Michael ran his tongue over his teeth in annoyance and replied. “Obviously we care about humans, but this one has taken it upon himself to call me away from my duties with a forced summoning, so the least he can do is spit it out.”
Sergei ran his hand through his hair for what must have been the umpteenth time given its appearance. “Look, I would never have presumed to summon you if it wasn’t important. A friend is in a bind. She’s not human, Satan wants to get his hands on her, and I have a living room full of demons and fallen. We need your help to keep her safe. Trust me this was not how I envisioned spending the last twenty-four hours.”
Frowning, Michael shook his head. “If she’s not human and she’s not disturbing the balance, then you've called us here for nothing. You’ll have to talk to the council that regulates her species. What is she?”
“That’s just it.” Sergei sighed. “We don’t know.”
His curiosity now piqued, Michael turned to look at Uriel. “Bringing you was probably a good idea, a scholar with your depth of knowledge should be able to shed some light on what she is.”
