Anexis Matos

Cylus sits on the floor. Takes a deep breath. This is the wrong time for the ritual, but does that matter? Does a demon truly care about the age as long as they’re adults and a deal is done, though?

He has spent two months looking into how to summon a demon. The information wasn’t readily available, despite his family being one of the seven that practice dark magic. A copy of the texts is given to every witch and wizard a few months before they turn 21. They must learn the theory and attempt a summoning on October 31, preferibly at midnight.

He was able to procure a copy of the texts from a collector in exchange for an artifact passed down in his family. Giving it up was easy. He hasn’t had any contact with them since he was sent to boarding school when he was eight. His maternal grandmother was the only one he had regular contact with and she didn’t care much about the artifact. As it held no sentimental value to the one person he cared about, why keep it?

Reviewing the texts took him a few days. He would have done this sooner, but he decided it would be best to move out of the building the children of the seven families share while they’re in school. The apartments are closer to the school, but it’s not worth staying there when he’s working independently.

A knife appears in his right hand. He presses it to his palm and cuts across it. The pain barely registers.

Using the blood dripping onto the floor, he draws a circle with his finger. Allows a few drops to fall inside it and heals his cut. Says the incantation he memorized days earlier and reviewed minutes ago.

With a loud pop, a tall, blond-haired woman appears in the circle. Cylus shifts into a kneeling position as her shartreuse eyes sweep across the room. Bows his head as her gaze falls on him.

His magic jumps in excitement. It delivers information rapidly. He stops himself from blinking as it reaches out to her. He pulls it back, not wanting to disrespect Lucifer’s right hand.

The instructions didn’t say it could summon an arch-demon. There was no suggestion of what demons could be summoned. He couldn’t have guessed that Lucifer’s right hand would appear, considering she hasn’t bonded with a witch or wizard in centuries, according to his research.

“Your horns are beautiful.”

He snaps his mouth shut. He could have said anything, but, out of all the features he could have complimented her on, he focused on her horns? Her very gorgeous horns, but still.

She’s a work of art. Her blond hair cascades down her back. Her blue horns are woven into the strands, forming a crown. Her white dress reaches her bare feet. The fabric brushes the blood in the circle.

She laughs. “How sweet. Tell me why you’ve summoned a demon.”

He takes a deep breath. “I realize it’s early, but I would like to form the bond.”

She hums. Solam expected a quiet night, but she was alerted there was a summoning. She decided to see who it was. She didn’t expect a member of the seven families.

“It’s not time,” she says.

“I’m aware,” he says. “Have others not summoned a demon before the expected timeline?”

“Once, but their request was denied because it was not time.”

He nods, keeping his facial expression neutral. He was ready to be disappointed, but…

“I understand, Mistress Solam. Thank you for entertaining my request.” He pauses. “Can you provide me with a more concrete reason than time for the denial?”

Polite. No need to show his disappointment. There was always the possibility of rejection.

Solam is silent, unsure how to respond. He can’t hide his feelings as well as he thinks he can. She supposes he can in the eyes of wizards, witches and humans, but demons can sense emotions. Souls are so clear.

There’s something about him. He has some type of pull and she doesn’t know why.

She uses her magic to look closer. His soul will reveal the truth. It must.

His story flows into her. A lonely child. Talent and skills not apreciated. No contact with family.

His sadness, anger, confusion and disappointment curl around her. He may understand what he’s asking for, but a bargain would have been made in desperation.

She’s about to pull away when her magic taps her shoulder.

Keep looking.

After a moment of consideration, she does. It takes her a few seconds to find what her magic is pointing to. She suppresses a gasp. That can’t be.

“Will you give me permission to leave the circle and come to you?” she asks.

“Yes, Mistress,” he says.

A spark of pleasure courses through her. All call her Mistress, but they know better than to refer to her by another title. He says it with such respect. Devotion.

The circle disappears and she approaches him. Her mate. She kneels beside him. Without much thought, she wraps her arms around him. He melts into her touch. Lays his head in her chest.

She strokes his hair away from his face. Brushes her lips against his forehad. “It’s not time for you to make a bargain. You’re desperate right now. You must have a clear head to make such requests.”

“That’s not the concrete reason I need.” His words are a soft whisper. His voice trembles. “Help me understand.”

She nods. “Previous demons used to only care that the person they made bargains with was of age. However, new rules were established, especially when it was noticed that many used the desperation of witches and wizards to force them to do whatever the demons wanted, bargain or no. The minimum age to make bargains is 21, though we would prefer you to be older.”

“Older?” he says. “But the families insist it has to be 21.”

“That was their rule, not ours.”

He nods. “I see.” He pauses. “Will I see you again? If I follow this ritual in a few years, will it be you who I summon?”

“Would you like it to be me that comes to you?” she says.

“Yes.”

Her features soften. “I can’t make a bargain with magic, but I can do something for you. What were you going to ask for if I agreed?”

“Protection,” he says. “I’ve chosen to break away from my family and am not as equipped as I would like to be to stop any retaliation.”

She considers. “I’ll help you. We’ll make a deal, not a bargain.”

“Is there a difference?” he says.

“We must both keep our word. It requires trust.”

He nods. “Alright. What are the conditions?”

“I’ll offer you protection,” she says. “In exchange, you must agree to a favor that I can call at any time.”

“I agree as long as it doesn’t include harm to children or someone’s death by my hand. I also would not like to cover up any crime.”

“I agree to those conditions.”

She holds him for a few more moments.

“Come,” she says gently. “I want to show you something.”

He nods, extracating himself from her arms. The safety they offer. The warmth.

They sit next to each other on the floor.

“This is a different version of the spell you used,” she says, “but it’s for summoning specific demons.”

She tells him the incantation. Makes him write it down.

“Good. You may summon me at any point.” A ring appears on her palm. “Give me your hand.”

He obeys and she places the ring on his finger. “This is my ring. It will protect you as long as you’re wearing it.”

He nods. “Thank you, Mistress. I appreciate your help.”

She kisses his the cheek. “You’re welcome. I hope to see you again.”

“As do I,” he says.

She vanishes. For a while, he sits there. Takes deep, calming breaths. He’s safe. At least for a while.