“And you,” Eva whirled on the demon, “you forced a contract on me while I was under duress. We could have died out here. I should banish you, consequences be damned.”
Arachne’s smile slipped into a slight frown.
“You what?” Devon exploded.
“I decided a change in employer was necessary for my life’s ambitions.” She held up her hands in a placating gesture and took a step back from the enraged demonologist. “Don’t worry. I’ll still participate in your little experiments so long as Eva is willing.”
Devon let out a loud growl and threw his hand towards the corpse of the nun. Green fire danced from his fingertips, engulfing the body. Rage spent, he let out a sigh. “I wish we could stay and collect the ashes; I’m running low. Lets get out of here.” He turned and stepped away.
Eva stepped after him with a sprinting Arachne trying to keep up behind her.
—
Devon threw open the door and limped to the couch, dropping the phylactery on a table on the way.
Eva followed her master into the old train station with a somber Arachne close behind her. Eva took a seat at the table well away from the phylactery and withdrew her newly acquired dagger. She began casting simple diagnostic spells, poking and prodding for any hidden traps. A light groan interrupted her efforts and drew her attention to the couch.
Devon lay unmoving, injured leg looking worse under proper lighting than it did in the dark alley. The entire leg of his pants had been burned off. Well, except for the parts that looked like it fused with his skin. A large blotch from his ankle to just under his knee had turned bright red. The skin itself was wavy and bubbly. Large boils had already begun to form on the warped skin.
Eva made a face as green pus leaked onto the couch.
“Master,” Eva called, “are you alright?”
“Whatever that the nun was throwing around wasn’t regular lightning.” His voice was far more subdued than it had been in the alley. The injury, constant stepping on the way back, and the demon flame had taken a lot out of Eva’s master.
Eva moved to a filing cabinet and pulled open the second to bottom drawer. Rows of neatly organized glass vials gleamed under the light of runes Eva herself had carved into the metal. She withdrew a handful, idly wondering if potions were also considered archaic in mainstream thaumaturgy.
Shaking her head, Eva deposited the vials of potions on her master’s chest. “While you’re tending to yourself,” Eva said, “would you like me to summon something to get rid of that?” She gestured towards the table. The plastic bag had fallen to gravity, revealing the golden skull in the process. Its two ruby eyes looked out over the couch. “I feel like it’s just glaring at us.”
Devon downed a vial of light blue liquid. He uncorked a vial of clear liquid and began tenderly rubbing it into his leg. With a wince, he said, “do you think you can handle a hel? You could try contacting Aosoth but unless you’re very confident, we’d probably all die.”
Eva shuddered. “I’m not summoning the goddess of Death even if we are,
“A hel it is then. Make sure to use raven blood, not crow blood.”
Eva nodded, ignoring his insinuations that she didn’t know what she was doing.
She pulled open the top drawer of the filing cabinet and withdrew a vial of raven blood. With that in hand she walked out to the summoning chamber.
Summoning chamber was a bit of an exaggeration. It was less of a chamber and more of a room. One of the larger office rooms that had been converted into a useful thaumaturgical room. In the center of the floor held a universal summoning circle. Shackles surrounded the circle to keep the summoner safe while a contract is discussed. Heavy duty shackles lined the walls, ceiling, and door, just in case.
Crossing the threshold gave Eva shivers. They didn’t used to, but in the last year or so, her master’s heavier shackles started to give her tingles. Eva could easily trap herself within the chamber if something went wrong. Possibly with whatever creatures the shackles were meant to contain.
Eva knelt down and placed the vial of raven blood in the center of the circle. She stepped back, out of the shackles, and channeled magic into the summoning.
“I seek a daughter of Hel, blessed by Death. Answer my call for aid in a task in service of Him.”
A fist erupted from beneath the cement floor and gripped the vial. The cement rippled away like a rock thrown into a pond. The vial blackened and crumbled away to dust while the blood flowed down the disembodied arm.
Slowly, a woman emerged. She walked out of the summoning circle as if there were stairs leading up to the surface.
The woman who now towered over Eva could only be described as regal. Her straight posture and the way she held her head high was like a queen observing her subjects. Yet her eyes were dead and gray. Her lips blue as ice. Her skin looked a step away from death and no pulse beat beneath her bare chest.
