Prologue
I should probably see a shrink, Jay made a mental note, watching the absolute clusterfuck unfolding around him with a sense of utter detachment. As a boring, unemotional man devoid of any imagination, he had never been one to boast about colorful dreams. Not that it was a big problem. Quite the opposite—he reasonably considered it a massive advantage to simply go to bed at night and wake up the next morning without stressing over whatever happened in between.
So why the hell had his brain suddenly decided to conjure up a scene straight out of some mainstream TV show?
Jay was standing in the middle of a massive hall in what looked like an ancient mansion. In his hand, which was smeared with something suspiciously red, he held a thick tome open to a page displaying a pentagram. The floor around him was messily scrawled with incomprehensible symbols and patterns, and the air reeked of mustiness and the damp chill of a grave. The whole setup looked so hopelessly tacky and cheap that he felt the urge to reprimand himself—was this really the best his subconscious could come up with for his one and only dream? But what outraged Jay the most was the fact that he was standing in the middle of this bedlam completely naked.
Book an appointment with a shrink. Definitely.
His body suddenly moved of its own accord, opening the book, and a stream of incomprehensible words poured from his mouth. Jay tried to force himself to shut up, to regain at least some semblance of control, but it was useless. All he could do was watch the madness unfold and lose his mind a little. And frankly, he had every right to. Obeying the unknown words, the floor around him slowly began to glow. First, a purple circle lit up along the edges, followed by a pentagon inside it, then a five-pointed star, and finally, the hieroglyphs inscribed within them. The pattern matched the example in the book perfectly.
Alright, who exactly are we summoning?
Jay, of course, didn’t believe in any supernatural bullshit, but when said bullshit was happening live right in front of his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder.
“I want you all dead!” something in a comprehensible language finally tore from his lips. “Die!”
There was no one in Jay’s life who could evoke such intense emotions. Who on earth could he be cursing so furiously? His boss? That driver who cut him off at the intersection this morning?
His train of thought was abruptly derailed. A massive, curved knife materialized out of nowhere in his free hand, its blade pointed directly at his chest.
What the hell are you doing?!
Never before had he yelled at himself.
And though, for some reason, the words never actually left his mouth, his head exploded with sharp pain. The pressure in his temples was so intense it felt like his skull was about to pop like a bloated tin can.
“I know God is against me, but I will see this through to the end!”
He couldn’t believe his own lips were spouting this melodramatic drivel.
The knife aimed for his heart again. Whatever God’s stance on the matter was, Jay was decidedly against any quasi-suicidal activities. A stark realization hit him from somewhere: he absolutely couldn’t let himself be killed, even if it was just a dream. Mentally cursing his thoroughly fucked-up subconscious, he fought to seize control of his body. It cost him another flash of blinding migraine and a sudden wave of nausea, but the hand—already primed to deliver a fatal strike—faltered. The curved blade merely grazed his skin, slicing it open. Which, honestly, was still quite unpleasant.
Blood dripped onto the floor, and a loud crash of thunder shook the windows. A bright flash of lightning pierced the hall of the old building. It was immediately followed by a second suicide attempt. And then a third. This time, Jay got away with a slashed forearm and another cut near his chest. It was a good thing he felt the pain from the wounds only very, very distantly. Every strike was accompanied by a burst of lightning outside the window, as if the knife wasn’t a weapon, but the bizarre baton of a conductor orchestrating the elements.
But that wasn’t the worst special effect. What bothered Jay the most was the glowing pentagram. If at first it had only radiated purple, now, having drunk its fill of his blood, it started flashing different colors in sequence like a set of Christmas lights. And his intuition was screaming that this was definitely not heralding the arrival of Santa.
Then again... maybe he wouldn’t get to see the climax of this dream. Between the heavy blood loss, his head spun, and nausea clawed at his throat. His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor, right in the middle of the insane light show.
The thunder crashed outside with violence that shook the entire building, and then bolts of lightning erupted directly from the points of the pentagram. The last thing Jay saw before passing out were three massive shadows materializing beside him.
