Demon Plus-One

I have truly hit a new low, which, given the consistent trajectory of my adult life so far, really is saying something.

But I’ll allow the inevitable spiral of shame to swallow me later.

Right now, perched on my knees before the rune-framed pentagram dominating my bedroom floor, I can still tell myself that I’m doing something about the unfortunate situation in which I’ve put myself.

One by one, I tap the flame of a richly perfumed Dragon’s Blood incense stick to the row of candles encircling a Morton Salt-composed ceremonial space. They flicker gently, glowing warm across the floor while casting the soft frills of my delicate bedroom decor into daunting shadows across the walls. Like otherworldly silhouettes caught in a ritualistic dance.

Once I’m sure I have all the necessary elements in place, I blow out the incense stick and return it to its metallic mount.

Positioning myself at the base of the pentagram, I tuck a lock of my auburn hair behind a bejeweled ear, then snatch the ancient scroll I had waiting aside—a family heirloom passed down to me. I slip my phone from my pocket, and my eyes dart from the inked script on the withered parchment to the translation on my screen. I squint, as if that would make the density of the text easier to comprehend.

“Um… Daemonium ignis et perditionis, te invoco?” I attempt to read aloud, the sound of my own questionable pronunciation making me wince. “Ignis inferni, ad— ad me acce—accede. Hostest meos vastare. In nomino ignis et ruinae, daemone, veni ad me. Hos—hostes meos in cineres redige!”

Lowering the scroll and phone, my eager eyes lock onto the pentagram, anticipation thrumming in my chest.

Whatever grand climax my dopamine-producing neurons are expecting, though, never comes to be. The candle flames flicker slightly against a nonexistent breeze, but otherwise, the room remains unchanging. My heart slumps.

‘Disappointed but not surprised’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

What did I expect? Did I actually think I was going to be able to summon a demon?

Deep down, I knew I didn’t. It’s just that I’ve been so desperate to find someone to accompany me to this wedding—especially considering that it is now two days away—that some really silly, stupid, irrational part of my brain convinced me that I should at least give this a shot.

If nothing else, performing the ritual made me feel like I was attempting to do something about my predicament, even if it was completely ridiculous.

Exhaling a sigh, shame bows my head, and my shoulders slump.

It’s incredible how I can be completely alone in my room with absolutely no witnesses, and embarrassment still burns my face.

No use in sitting here wallowing, though. Setting the scroll aside, I pocket my phone, shifting to stand back up. However, the sight before me locks me in place.

All the candle flames have inexplicably shrunk into tiny blue dots while the salt-composed pentagram glows a vibrant molten orange. My jaw drops. I’m too stunned for words, much less able to process what is even happening.

Rumbles erupt through the floor, and I fall to my hands and knees. Fight-or-flight senses seize my chest, accelerate my heart.

Oh, God. What have I done?

A burning red light ignites within the ceremonial space, streaming to the ceiling. The orange pentagram and surrounding runes fade into translucence before disappearing entirely, revealing a massive hole plunging into an infinite black void.

Then an explosion of fire erupts within, the force enough to knock me back. I yelp, shoulder blades smacking into the edge of my plush pink mattress, arms flying out to catch myself.

Despite the heat and sheer power radiating from the massive flare and crackle of flames, it doesn’t catch anything within the room. It’s nothing short of a miracle considering the abundance of flammable lace, sheer drapery, and plushies filling the space.

The inferno settles into an aura of what looks like a massive red blob. However, as said mass moves, I realize what I’m actually looking at is a set of giant wings, like a bat’s on a colossal scale.

Unfolding, they reveal a demon within. He stands from floor to ceiling, wingspan so gigantic that they can’t fully outstretch in the confines of my bedroom.

Vibrant red skin matches the energy of the flames licking across the demon’s muscled shoulders. Tattoos of ancient runes decorate his bare chest and the length of his arms. Twisting ebony horns protrude from lanky black locks, a tail flickers behind him, and the only clothing he wears is the chains rattling from his arms and a set of crude trousers that have seen better days.

Even his face is otherworldly, with his impossibly attractive features, from a prominent jaw to strong brows and remarkably plush lips, if I do say so.

Jeez. Glad to know that even in the face of harrowing danger, my hormones are still working!

Questionably-timed shallow thoughts aside, it’s the demon’s eyes that capture me. I’m entranced, locked into pure black depths surrounded by rings of molten red.

They stare straight into me as if penetrating my very being. Even against the unyielding stiffness of my muscles, the urge to shiver tingles down my spine.

“Wielder,” the demon speaks, a low growl accompanied by the faintest of echoes, as if the voices of a thousand consumed souls are crying to be heard underneath.

I shrink where I remain slouched against my bed, feeling like I might actually piss my pants.

Despite the alarms of all my self-preservation instincts overwhelming my brain, all I can manage out is a very intelligent-sounding, “Holy shit, it worked…”

Not gonna lie, I had been so caught up in preparing this ritual that I hadn’t actually considered what I’d do if I made it this far!

To be fair, I hadn’t actually expected to.

“Who summons me from my slumber in the Underworld?”

Although the demon’s voice is calm, he asks the question with such resolution that I curl into myself more, rooted in place by sheer terror.

“Oh. Is now a bad time?” I ask, voice cracking slightly.

Those smoldering charcoal eyes narrow. “Name yourself, Wielder.”

“Uh. My name is Madison Bealle. Everyone calls me Maddie, though. And you are?”

“I am Ashethanor Pyraeus Maleficus, demon of fire and destruction. Lead me to thine enemies, and I shall reduce them to embers in a glorious blaze of ruin!” The demon extends two clawed hands, miniature balls of fire flaring over his palms before vanishing. They briefly illuminate his face, revealing a maniacally gleeful fanged smile, delighted by the prospect of inflicting such wanton violence.

“Ah. Um.” Although fear still lingers in my veins, seeing as the demon has made no move to actually hurt me, it starts to settle enough for me to push myself to my feet.

Facing him, I clear my throat. “So, I’m going to call you Ash. Is that okay?”

The demon blinks.

“And, uh,” I hesitate, tasting cherry gloss as I gnaw on my lip. If I felt ridiculous before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel right now with what I’m about to ask.

Still, I’ve gone this far. Might as well see it through.

“I don’t need you to reduce anyone to embers,” I explain. “I just need you to be my date for my cousin’s upcoming wedding!”

Shrinking into a more human size, Ash’s surrounding flames extinguish. His smoldering black eyes slump with almost comical exaggeration.

“What?”