Ophelia sidestepped a swipe from the strange creature’s claws and commanded her familiar to strike at its ankle. The snake shot forward, striking at the exact mont the enemy landed on the ground, sinking two sharp fangs into its flesh. The creature put weight on its injured leg, readying another jump, but faltered and went down on one knee.
Ophelia finally had a chance to take a good look at what she was fighting. It matched the enemy described in the docuntation for the case—a small red body, hooved legs similar to those of a goat, and a wide, frog-like mouth filled with small, razor-sharp fangs. It was an imp, a small, fast demon that mostly hunted children and other small prey.
Ophelia didn’t even use any magic as she took a step forward. The enemy jumped to her throat once again, but this ti, without the elent of surprise, she could follow its trajectory with her eyes. Instead of slashing at it, she used the hilt to knock the imp to the ground.
The hilt connected with the underbelly. The imp weighed as much as a large cat, and the hit easily sent it flying.
Ophelia closed the distance, pinning the creature to the ground with her leg, and before it could try to claw at her ankle, she delivered the killing blow to the skull.
The imp went limp as she finally let go of the breath she didn’t notice she was holding. Her free hand went to her throat, where a small scratch was visible.
She sighed deeply. Fights like that had happened a few tis in the past few weeks, although this one was the most dangerous, at least at first.
Initially, when she started dealing with so of the cases on her own, she thought it would be an exciting life of battle and glory, especially when listening to Sam’s tales about the exorcists in the past.
But it soon beca clear that she was on pest-extermination duty.
“Want to take a bite?” she asked her snake.
The creature turned to her, looking her in the eye, and she could feel, ntally, the lack of amusent with her proposition.
Ophelia concentrated on their link.
“Mra?” she tried, but once again got nothing.
For the past few days, she had felt that the creature had a na, not the very unimaginative “snake” she had given it, but an actual na, most likely given upon creation by her god. She could glimpse it every ti she tried. The na was on the tip of her tongue, but it would split away the mont she was sure she had it, like an annoying critter scurrying around her mind palace.
Clicking her tongue in irritation, she went back to looking at the small demon, which was slowly dissipating into mana. After drawing in the energy for later reattunent, she raised a small, broken pendant to her eyes. The piece of jewelry had previously housed the thing until the owner decided that reading the strange, song-like inscription at the back was a good idea. She turned it over, hoping to find sothing hidden in it, but got nothing. Just another cage for a small demon opened by mistake.
Sighing once, she put down the pendant and looked at the clock. It was morning, the thirty-first of October—Halloween. She was about to go back to the car, thinking about the summoning, when her phone rang.
“Speak of the devil,” Ophelia murmured as she looked at the caller before answering.
“Are ya winning?” Sam asked the mont she pressed the green button on the screen.
“Already won.”
“Good. It would be embarrassing if my apprentice lost to an imp.”
Ophelia could feel slight anger rise inside her chest. “You said it was barely a larger rat.”
“Yeeep.”
“It almost ripped my face off on the first attack.”
“Yeeep.”
“What do you an, yeeeep? The file said it was barely first circle,” Ophelia almost shouted into the phone. “Failed to ntion its speed.”
“I know. I removed the speed part myself, after all.”
“You what?” she spat.
“Its average level is around the first circle. The truth is, its speed is at the top while strength and intelligence are at the bottom, so overall, it's barely in the first circle. But would you look at that, case files can lie, and that can be really deadly, huh?” he said in a chanical voice.
Ophelia took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly let it out.
“Fine, fine. I get the lesson. What do you want?”
“Everyone got here earlier. You can go straight to the ritual spot.”
“Got it,” Ophelia said and disconnected the call before Sam could share any more of his wisdom.
It took her three hours to get from the client’s place to the burned-down factory building. The sight was rather strange. The factory was off the main road, with nature slowly reclaiming the site. It wasn’t in the middle of a forest, but bushes covered most of the space around the actual hall.
There was also an old parking lot where so old vehicles stood, now piles of rust barely keeping their shape. But what was rather unusual was the high-class cars standing between them. Audis, BMWs, a few small buses clearly on the more luxurious side, and a sports car Q’Shar used for getaways. Combined with the old cracked concrete parking lot and its broken-down vehicles, it looked like a surreal painting.
She had to give the idea credit. If she looked at that, she would assu a bunch of rich kids had organized a party in an old building.
She entered the place, hearing a discussion inside. And the mont she did, she stopped on the threshold, taking in the sight. Sam joked about using Party City skeletons and Halloween decorations, but when it ca down to it, he clearly put in the work. The place had a massive runic circle carved in the middle, with a four-ter-tall black stone obelisk at its center and shackles secured to it on all four sides.
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The surrounding space was also decorated. Skulls with runes carved into their foreheads were placed around, with candles of black wax secured on top. Crystals were used to light up the space, and a few more purely arcane symbols of death were also painted on the walls. Closer to what she assud was the front of the ritual stood a small wooden podium. The space around it had a slightly different vibe, less death magic and more Satanic, with sigils and symbols she recognized from one of the books Sam had from Solomon’s collection. In particular, one large sigil in the middle gave her slight vertigo just by looking at it.
“Ophelia!” She heard a familiar voice and, turning to the side, saw Luna approach her.
“Luna,” Ophelia greeted, slightly surprised.
She had seen the vampire in the hospital before going back and had known she was getting better, but now the change was much more pronounced. Her complexion had beco healthier. Her eyes now had a tint of blue mixed with the blood-red from before, but the biggest change was in her aura. Ophelia wasn’t as proficient at reading that as Sam, but she could feel the overall life emanating from her, a strange mix with the calm, cold sense of death still present.
“How are you feeling?” Ophelia asked once the vampire ca closer.
“Better than ever. You should see what my healing magic can do now,” she said with a wide smile.
“I’d prefer not, actually.” Ophelia winced, rembering the many scratches and wounds healed by the vampire in the singularity. “And where’s Will?” she asked, so used to his presence beside Luna that the question ca out on its own.
“Will isn’t one for rituals, and he has a political struggle to deal with,” Luna said, a bit of sadness entering her expression.
“Oh, I heard. And you...?” Ophelia asked, not sure if this was taboo to ask about.
“I’m in a better position. As for Will, he’s the only one in his clan really close to Sam, but we have more ties to Clan Alhazred, so Sam’s... vocal support actually matters.”
“Vocal support?” Ophelia asked, dreading the answer.
“You didn't hear?” Luna asked, slightly surprised. “My brother apparently issued an official letter of condemnation for an undisclosed external relationship with a different family without the clan's approval.”
“Letter of condemnation?” Ophelia asked, her eyebrows raising slightly.
“It’s a noble tradition no longer practiced—just a shaming campaign in front of your allies. Nasty way of getting power inside the family by telling other clans what soone did and seeing their reaction.”
“Riiight. And I assu Sam got the letter.”
“Yeah, that’s half the problem. The other half is that he wrote back before Q’Shar could get wind of it.”
“Ufff,” Ophelia winced.
“Honestly, a letter’s worth of threats and expletives all dressed in actual official mage language was rather impressive. Even had a P.S. and all.”
“You should fra it.”
“Oh, that’s not the best part. Official condemnations are a matter of the clan, so any ally’s response has to be read aloud during a family gathering. I didn’t know my brother could change colors like that.”
Ophelia nodded in understanding.
“Yeah, Sam has a strange talent for flowery language when it cos to insults.”
“Mhm. ‘Embarrassnt to all creatures with fangs, stuck in saddeningly deep envy of his sister’s balls’ was a first. But jokes aside, the condemnation backfired. No point in pissing off a good ally if there is no gain to be had. I’ll just get official scolding, and I should be set.”
“See?” They heard Sam’s voice from the side. “The Sabbath taught politics is just calling the other side nas. I have been enlightened to the beauty of political discussions. I’ll practice more for sure.”
“Sounds like a nightmare I once had,” Q’Shar groaned from the side, approaching after Sam.
Behind them walked Myhur, nodding at the two.
“Co.” Sam nodded his head toward the other side of the building, where a small crowd was talking next to a few large boxes. “I’ll do the greetings, and we can talk details after.”
They followed him toward the crowd, and as they got closer, Ophelia saw a few familiar faces. There were rmaids, two of which she saw at the Sabbath, and the sa went for three witches, as well as a few dark elves she fought beside in the Acquente mansion. Overall, there were around fifty people, not counting her, Sam, Luna, and Myhur.
Sam took a spot by the podium and got everyone’s attention by clapping his hands. As the eyes of everyone turned toward him, he began speaking, but before his voice left his throat, Ophelia could see a slight change. It was hard to catch if one didn’t know the man, but she could tell that he was taking what was about to happen seriously.
“Honored initiates and sworn attendants, I greet you in the na of the rite and acknowledge your presence before the appointed hour. You are welcod.” Sam spoke in arcane, his voice even and serious.
Looking around, Ophelia could see that not everyone seed to understand what exactly he had said. The words weren’t the kind used in a spell, and she understood the sentence only thanks to her lessons on the more traditional side of the language.
“I thank you all for coming.” He switched back to English. “Tonight I would like to use your help in summoning and contracting a demon, and then possessing ten bodies prepared for that purpose. I will be tonight’s master of ceremonies as well as the chief cantor. Andreea will handle the contracts and legal proceedings.” Sam pointed at an older woman to the side, and to her surprise, Ophelia recognized the old fortune teller, who now stood in the small crowd at the front. “Myhur will be the second cantor, while my apprentice Ophelia will be the lamp-bearer.” Sam paused, and a few people turned toward Ophelia, nodding in appreciation.
It was appreciation Ophelia didn’t share, as it was the first ti she had heard of the title. Thankfully, Luna didn’t find ssing with her as amusing as her teacher, as she quickly leaned toward the girl.
“I’m assuming the chief-dipshit didn’t tell you what that ans. You will light the way for the living sacrifices. It’s a purely traditional role as long as the ritual doesn’t require actually guiding anyone off the plane.”
Ophelia nodded to her in appreciation, then went back to looking at Sam with a slightly hateful gaze, which he promptly ignored.
“The warriors of the elves will play the wardens to tonight’s ceremony, so don’t worry about any interruption. Also, thanks to the amazing work of our friends from Salem,” he pointed at a group of witches in large, wide hats, “we used experintal runes to handle any recordings, so if any interruption occurs, please keep in mind that the ritual is our priority. As long as the assailants are not aggressive, they might be allowed closer to avoid a commotion, but be assured that no footage of tonight will be available. The sa goes for the cars outside. Lastly, the ceremonial clothing will add protection in case of stray bullets or sudden attacks during the trance,” he said, pointing at boxes standing to the side. “But rest assured that will not be necessary,” Sam added.
“May your hand remain sure, your mind ordered, and your office fulfilled without fault. May the rite receive your service favorably,” he finished in arcane.
Everyone bowed slightly at his words. As Ophelia looked back at Sam, he was back to his usual self, the serious part of the speech over.
“Are there any questions?” he finally asked.
One person raised a hand, a mage Ophelia didn’t recognize.
“If I might ask, you ntioned all the positions by their proper nas, but only said ‘wardens.’ What about chief warden? I assu you do intend to enter the trance with us?” he asked.
In response, Sam smiled, and Ophelia imdiately sensed trouble. It was one of those grins that made anyone who knew it stand on alert. She could see Luna react the sa, looking around.
“I’m glad you asked,” Sam said.
Then sothing happened. His shadow vibrated, then swam and shifted away from his body. It grew darker and bubbled like boiling tar, seeming to devour any light entering it. The thing lengthened, and a shape slowly rose from it. First, tentacles appeared, swimming in the air like branches of a twisted tree. Then the animal-like torso from which they grew followed. Four pairs of horns frad a head that looked like a cross between a goat and a dog. Four yellow pupilless eyes looked at them as a long tail slowly swam behind the beast. Its presence was unnerving and unnatural, as everyone imdiately went on alert at the sight of the abomination.
“So,” Sam said cheerfully, “et my dog.”
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