only comes with practice.”
“So where is he?”
“Azazel?” He chuckled. “He’s not very likely to show up. The demon of sorcery would need a lot more pomp and circumstance.”
“So demons can control whether or not they appear?”
“To some extent. Otherwise, every Goth kid around would be able to summon a prince of hell. Keep in mind that it is prudent to be courteous. A demon will act as civilly as you treat them.”
“Why bother showing up at all?”
“They usually want something and are always on the lookout for a good bargain. This leads me to rule number two: never promise a demon something that you cannot deliver. Otherwise, the ball is in their court and you are in debt to them until they see fit to release you.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It usually is.”
“Any other numbered rules?” I asked.
“One more for now. Always store your sigils in a safe place and never destroy them.”
“So how do they actually work?”
“That’s for our next lesson. For now, take the grimoire and practice. Familiarize yourself with those we will possibly be dealing with. We need to get a handle on the Dybbuk flying about.”
“Cool.”
“And with that I must go.”
“Already?” I checked my watch. It was already six thirty. “I just don’t understand one thing. Why do you need me?”
“You can see them,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “Only humans who have the sight can harness the power of the demonic arts.” He grabbed his satchel and was gone before I could reply. I sat there eyeing the tracing in front of me, curious about my ability to help Thom. What was I getting myself into and how come he could see them?
C HAPTER S EVEN
The house was empty and dark. I flicked the switches on the control panel in the kitchen, illuminating the pendant lamps that hung over the breakfast bar and the recessed lighting that staggered through the small formal dining area down to the sunken living room that opened up to the backyard.
I opened the freezer, took out a pizza, and tossed it into the oven. After setting the temperature, I sprawled out on the couch and turned on the television with the intention of finishing my homework at a normal hour.
My eyes wandered from the flashing screen to the page of math equations I was loathe to finish to my bag, thrown casually onto the round glass coffee table. Its contents had spilled out, and I could see the corner of the grimoire.
He did say I needed to practice.
I pushed my work aside with promises that it would get done in homeroom and placed the antiquated text in my lap. The calligraphy was beautiful and the illustrations fierce–pictures depicting beings that were part human, part animal, riding astride beasts, brandishing vicious weapons, baring their teeth. There were kings, princes, dukes, marquises, and counts, each with their own army of lesser demons. Their job descriptions ranged from inciting jealousy to deforming the young.
“Barbatos, Duke of the Legion of Thirty, Eighth Demon of the Lesser Key. Yields the power to speak with animals. Sees both Futures and Pasts. Uncovers that which has been hidden with Magick.”
Interesting .
When I heard the jangle of keys in the door, I ran to my room and shoved the mystical book under my bed, adjusting the bed skirt so that it didn’t look like I was hiding something under there. Back in the kitchen the oven timer chimed that dinner was ready.
“Hi Dad,” I said, grabbing the mitts and pulling the hot pie of melted cheesy goodness out of the hot oven and setting it on a trivet.
“Hey, pumpkin. How was school?”
“Fine.”
He unloaded the armful of groceries onto the counter and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I helped put the canned goods and boxed meals away while waiting for dinner to cool. I slid two slices of pizza onto a plate, grabbed a bottle of seltzer from the fridge, and made my way down the hall.
I paused in front of
“So where is he?”
“Azazel?” He chuckled. “He’s not very likely to show up. The demon of sorcery would need a lot more pomp and circumstance.”
“So demons can control whether or not they appear?”
“To some extent. Otherwise, every Goth kid around would be able to summon a prince of hell. Keep in mind that it is prudent to be courteous. A demon will act as civilly as you treat them.”
“Why bother showing up at all?”
“They usually want something and are always on the lookout for a good bargain. This leads me to rule number two: never promise a demon something that you cannot deliver. Otherwise, the ball is in their court and you are in debt to them until they see fit to release you.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It usually is.”
“Any other numbered rules?” I asked.
“One more for now. Always store your sigils in a safe place and never destroy them.”
“So how do they actually work?”
“That’s for our next lesson. For now, take the grimoire and practice. Familiarize yourself with those we will possibly be dealing with. We need to get a handle on the Dybbuk flying about.”
“Cool.”
“And with that I must go.”
“Already?” I checked my watch. It was already six thirty. “I just don’t understand one thing. Why do you need me?”
“You can see them,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “Only humans who have the sight can harness the power of the demonic arts.” He grabbed his satchel and was gone before I could reply. I sat there eyeing the tracing in front of me, curious about my ability to help Thom. What was I getting myself into and how come he could see them?
C HAPTER S EVEN
The house was empty and dark. I flicked the switches on the control panel in the kitchen, illuminating the pendant lamps that hung over the breakfast bar and the recessed lighting that staggered through the small formal dining area down to the sunken living room that opened up to the backyard.
I opened the freezer, took out a pizza, and tossed it into the oven. After setting the temperature, I sprawled out on the couch and turned on the television with the intention of finishing my homework at a normal hour.
My eyes wandered from the flashing screen to the page of math equations I was loathe to finish to my bag, thrown casually onto the round glass coffee table. Its contents had spilled out, and I could see the corner of the grimoire.
He did say I needed to practice.
I pushed my work aside with promises that it would get done in homeroom and placed the antiquated text in my lap. The calligraphy was beautiful and the illustrations fierce–pictures depicting beings that were part human, part animal, riding astride beasts, brandishing vicious weapons, baring their teeth. There were kings, princes, dukes, marquises, and counts, each with their own army of lesser demons. Their job descriptions ranged from inciting jealousy to deforming the young.
“Barbatos, Duke of the Legion of Thirty, Eighth Demon of the Lesser Key. Yields the power to speak with animals. Sees both Futures and Pasts. Uncovers that which has been hidden with Magick.”
Interesting .
When I heard the jangle of keys in the door, I ran to my room and shoved the mystical book under my bed, adjusting the bed skirt so that it didn’t look like I was hiding something under there. Back in the kitchen the oven timer chimed that dinner was ready.
“Hi Dad,” I said, grabbing the mitts and pulling the hot pie of melted cheesy goodness out of the hot oven and setting it on a trivet.
“Hey, pumpkin. How was school?”
“Fine.”
He unloaded the armful of groceries onto the counter and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I helped put the canned goods and boxed meals away while waiting for dinner to cool. I slid two slices of pizza onto a plate, grabbed a bottle of seltzer from the fridge, and made my way down the hall.
I paused in front of
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