Chapter 102: Summoning a Demon
And so I hesitated once more, caught at a crossroads. To summon a demon, or not? In theory, if Jared could join the Church, with his newfound and miraculous ability to summon holy light, he could have a real future. He could become a priest, at the very least. With diligence, he might even rise to become a deacon, or perhaps even an archbishop one day. Regardless, his income would be more than enough to support me. Did I truly need to risk my soul by making a pact with a demon? Furthermore, the Church and the witches were mortal enemies, their positions utterly irreconcilable. If Jared were to become a devout man of the cloth, our very association would become a delicate, dangerous thing, a secret that could very well ruin his career.
I wrestled with the decision late into the night. Could I do it? Could I live as a parasite, a freeloader, content to be kept by Jared for the rest of my days? In the end, I decided I could not. The last, stubborn vestiges of my pride, of the man I used to be, would not allow me to become a kept man.
And so, I made my final choice. I would walk the path of the witch. I felt it, in the deepest part of my soul: there was no turning back for me. I had to see this dark road through to its end. If the day came when our paths diverged, when we found ourselves on opposite sides of a holy war, then I would sever our ties. I would even allow myself to become a stepping stone on his path to greatness, if it came to that. It would be a final repayment for the kindness he had shown me. In the space of a single, terrible week, this boy had, through the influence of Parula’s lingering affections, become the most important person in my world.
I had discovered a strange contradiction within myself. At times, I was a coward. The sight of the drowned things in the water, the monstrous otherworld I now inhabited, the vengeful ghost—these things could paralyze me with fear. But at other times, I was strangely bold. I had been ready to sacrifice myself for Jared without a second thought, and had considered it a fair trade. When it came down to it, I was a person who had already died once. The fear of death itself was a distant, faded thing. It was the pain, the suffering, the unknown, that truly terrified me. Jared was young, and full of a potential he didn't yet understand. He deserved a future, a future that was not weighed down by me. And so, I had to walk my own path. To ensure I would never be a burden to him, I had to become a witch.
I stepped outside and looked up at the sky. The three moons were high overhead; it must be near midnight. This world, so dangerous in the night, and without the benefit of widespread electric light, mostly kept to the rhythm of the sun. Though some might still be carousing in the city's taverns, by midnight, a deep and profound silence had fallen. According to the grimoire, the best time to summon a demon was at midnight, in a place of power like a graveyard or an altar. And the best date was a night when the three moons converged, or at the very least, two.
Of course, I had none of these things. This was a sewer, not a graveyard. And it was not a night of convergence; the three moons hung in the sky, separate and distinct. Besides, after the nightmare of the dream conclave, I had no desire to perform a ritual on such an ill-omened night.
I also had no way of predicting when the two moons would next converge; my education hadn't included the astronomy of a three-mooned world. When I asked Jared, he told me it was simple: a town crier always announced it beforehand, a grim warning shouted in every square. That was how he had heard of it. I knew I couldn't wait for the perfect celestial alignment, not with the haunted cosmetics box ticking like a time bomb in our hovel. I would have to make do.
“It’s time,” I said, my voice a low whisper. I stood in the center of the summoning circle, the intricate lines glowing faintly in the dim light of the brazier. Before me, on the cold stone floor, sat the open cosmetics box, a silent, waiting offering. I took a deep breath, trying to still the frantic hammering of my heart.
“You can do it, Parula. Here.” Jared handed me the short, ornate dagger. He stood to one side, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his own weapon, ready to pull me out at the first sign of trouble.
At this point, there was no more room for hesitation. I took the dagger and, with a steady hand, lightly sliced open the palm of my hand. The blade was not so sharp as to cut through iron, but Parula's delicate skin parted with barely a touch, and a line of dark blood welled up. I felt no pain at all. I turned my hand over, and a single drop of my blood fell into the cosmetics box, staining the powder within a bright, shocking crimson. Would it work? I watched anxiously as another drop fell, and then another. To be honest, with the time and place being so wrong, I had no confidence the summoning would succeed.
“Hey! It’s changing!” Jared suddenly cried out. He was right. The cosmetics box began to bleed. Not my blood, but a torrent of it, a thick, dark flood that poured from the small wooden box, flowing onto the summoning circle and rapidly filling the etched lines. I definitely hadn't shed that much blood. I didn't know where it was all coming from, but it filled the circle, turning the lines from simple scratches into channels of glowing, crimson light.
I held my breath, my heart pounding. This was a reaction. I didn't know what kind of demon would appear. Maybe it would be some unknowable mass of flesh, covered in tentacles and mouths. Maybe it would devour me as part of the offering.
A crimson light flashed, and a figure appeared before me. It was a noblewoman with hair as red as blood, dressed in an ornate, fashionable gown, a golden crown upon her head. Her most prominent feature was… her chest, it was truly enormous. An F-cup, I estimated, with a clinical detachment that surprised even me. Was this the legendary demon? She didn't look particularly strange, just a normal, if unusually buxom, human woman.
“Heh heh, to think I'd be summoned to the mortal plane by such a peculiar ritual,” she said, her voice the high, melodious laugh of a noble lady. “What is all this? The time and place are all wrong, the offering is a cursed cosmetics box, and… is that a Paladin standing over there?”
A Paladin? Who? Was she talking about Jared? I glanced at him; he was frozen in shock, his hand on his dagger, his eyes wide.
“If the setup weren't so pathetic, I might have thought this was a trap. I am Gremory,” the demoness said with another laugh.
“Welcome, Lady Gremory,” I said immediately, bowing respectfully as the grimoire instructed. “Our means are limited, so we could not provide a grander summoning. I beg your forgiveness.” According to the witch's notes, such a shoddy ritual could never summon a demon's true form, not even a proper avatar. At most, we could summon a projection, an aspect for the purpose of making a pact. So there was no need to be too nervous. Of course, the grimoire also noted that if a demon's true form did appear, you'd already be dead. A mortal mind couldn't withstand it. So there was nothing to worry about, because... you wouldn't be around to worry anymore.
“Heh heh, what a cute little girl,” the demon Gremory said with a kind smile. “Tell me, did you summon me to make a deal?” Though I bristled at being called a "little girl," it seemed this demon was quite approachable. At least she was willing to talk, and hadn't made any outrageous demands right away.
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