“Not a mortal,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Interesting.”
“Uh, hi. I'm Clara.” I fold my arms over the sauce. “And you are?”
“You want my name, witch? Is that your request?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, uh, no. Can you…this may seem silly. Sorry.” I step closer, holding out the jar. “Can you open this for me?”
I don't know if it's normal, but he looks baffled. Can demons be flabbergasted? I paste a tentative smile on my face and inch just a bit closer. I don't want to enter the circle with him. That would be disastrous. At least, I think it would be. If my arm merely passes the line, it should be fine. I hope it's fine because otherwise I won't be able to give him the jar to actually open.
“You want me to open the jar? You summoned me forthat?”
I nod as he narrows his red eyes at me. When he blinks, they fade into a dull black. I really should have done more research on demons before I decided to summon one. This would have been a lot easier. Maybe I wouldn't be so scared. Or it might have freaked me out more.
“If you could, I would really appreciate it.”
He tentatively reaches out and grasps the lid and I let go of the bottom. His large hands dwarf the jar and I wince. I open my mouth to plead with him not to break it, but I snap it shut when I remember who's standing in front of me.
His dark eyes meet mine and my stomach flips. I wrap my arms around my waist and sway while he studies me. It's like he thinks I'm tricking him. Honestly, if I was in his position, I'd think it was a prank too. Like,hey, open this jarand bam, a deadly plague is released into the world. He's a demon, though, so maybe that's what he's hoping for.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the lid pops, and an excited giggle erupts from me. Hesitantly, he hands the jar back to me and I grin.
“Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am.”
He nods, wariness in his eyes. “You know you only get one request per summons, right?”
“Yup.” I cradle the glass against my chest and glance up. “That's all I needed.”
He crosses his arms and wings unfurl from his back, spreading to the edges of the circle. A softohfalls from my lips and I force a smile to my face again.
“You have to say the words to release me,” he huffs.
“Oh, that's right.” I crouch and gingerly set the jar at my feet before scanning the text. “Um, I'm a little rusty on my Latin, but am I really saying 'begone demon' like I'm banishing you?”
“Yes. Or ‘leave the demon’ which has created more conflicts than necessary over the centuries. Just say it so I can get the hell out of here.”
“Okay, then.Discede daemonium.” I glance up and catch him rolling his eyes. It's such a human reaction I'm a little caught off guard.
As smoke swirls around his feet, his nostrils flare. “Your Latin needs work, as does your chalk work.”
He disappears in a puff of smoke, the smell of sulfur and cinnamon lingering in the space. I grab my jar and turn to leave. What an absolute ass. My Latin is perfectly fine. I might concede on the chalk work, though.
“Well, fuck you too,” I mutter. “And you used work twice in a sentence, asshole.”
One of the shadows snaps out and whips me right in the ass. I yelp and glance over my shoulder. Two glowing red eyes stare at me from the dark cloud in the circle and I scowl. They wink out of existence along with the rest of the haze, though the warm scent of cinnamon remains. Apparently he didn't like my parting comment much. To be fair, I probably wouldn't like it either, but he brought it upon himself.
At least now my jar is open and I won't be needing the book anymore. No more demon summoning in the middle of the night.
The experience I had two nights ago is still running through my head. I keep waiting for the pull of a summoning again from the little witch. Surely she wanted more than just a jar opened. Except she was quite insistent. A smirk pulls at my lips as I remember her parting words. I wipe the expression from my face when I realize what I'm doing.
I'm sure the witch would be as confused by this room as I was by her chalking. It's surprising how human-like the space is, though the walls are made of obsidian. The long table and chairs were sourced during one of the many wars the mortals engaged in. None of us in my division were very happy when the witches called on us. Mostly because they were a disrespectful bunch. We weren't impressed. They haven't called on us en masse since. I'm more impressed my little witch was able to summon anyone, much less me. I'm high enough in the demon ranks not to be bothered.
I shake my head, wondering why I claimed her as my little witch. Calling her Clara seems…informal and personal. Neither of which we are to each other. I'm merely a demon who was forced to do her bidding.
“Omen, I need your latest report,” Dimitri calls from across the room.
And now I have to write a damn report about it. “I'll get to it.”
“Two mortal days is long enough. You don't want him coming down on your ass because you didn't do it.” Dimitri says as he collapses into the chair next to me. They're ornate and dig into my back, but I keep sitting on them instead of smashing them into the walls.
