Cassandra Pendragon
I was tempted to turn around and maybe fry the delusional demon to boot, but… you owe him, don’t explode… damn it! A second later I opened the door, my appearance much closer to what I actually looked like. Silvery light flooded the dimly lit room when I entered with a cold smile.
“Oh my… and I was already expecting an ouija board and a bowl of chicken blood. That’s much nicer, actually,” I quipped and slowly stepped over the threshold and into a scene that wouldn’t have been out of place in one of those cheesy supernatural flicks.
Seven girls looked at me, mouths open, surprise and maybe a bit of confusion sparkling in their eyes. In the shadows behind them Chaleb lurked, completely invisible to anyone but another immortal. Asshole. We were in a run of the mill cellar, a large, plain room with two doors leading to what I presumed were either storage units and or a heating system. Insulated pipes crawled along the ceiling like intestines in an open wound and the walls shimmered wetly, patches of mould growing every few inches on the tainted, white-yellow plaster, like pockmarks. The hum of electricity and possibly a large fridge or a generator filled the warm, moist air, nearly drowning out the loud music and scuffling steps from above.
My hosts were seated around a heavy, old looking table covered with books, booze, a variety of handbags and several, more or less, recreational drugs. I smirked when one of them reached for a bag of colourful pills, trying to shove them out of sight, but she immediately froze when she felt the weight of my gaze. All of them were young, early twenties at the most, but aside from this one commonality, they couldn’t have been more different.
One looked like a model, blonde, blue eyed and busty, while her neighbour resembled a typical nerd with wide, unflattering clothes, an unruly mop of hair and large, intelligent, brown eyes. Another, who was hiding behind a bottle of beer, seemed like an athlete, sleek and trim, clad in a short summer dress. Two were obviously twins with similar, large green eyes and red hair. I could only tell them apart because they had chosen to wear different colours, their resemblance almost perfect in any other way. The last pair was… strange and probably the reason for this little get together. They weren’t strong, magically speaking, but I could still feel their powers stir and churn within them like a bottled up storm. One was tall and willowy with dark, almost black hair and matching eyes while the other was petite with a cute, childish face. Judging from their smell, the former was a witch from a decently powerful line while the latter probably had some supernatural genes mixed in, possibly from a strange union a few generations back. A cherub, maybe, or one of the indigenous fey species. Unsurprisingly, those two were also the ones who had small pentagrams, sketched on ancient paper, in front of them and a summoner’s bell in their hand.
When their eyes had adjusted to the flash of light, I heard them gasp, their gazes fixed upon my glowing eyes. For the fraction of a second I thought about materialising my wings, but I discarded the idea just as quickly. Who knew how they’d react and I mainly wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. Plus, I was quite curious why there was an unopened bottle of my favourite whiskey sitting on the table, as well as a pretty expensive cigar. Loads better than chicken blood, but I couldn’t imagine Chaleb going through the trouble of informing them, one way or the other. Otherwise he wouldn’t be hiding like a coward, after all.
“That’s… that’s not,” the black haired girl stammered.
“A sprit? A servant, ” I asked and glided deeper into the room, tasting their scent. Most of them were ecstatic but the two I expected to have deeper ties with the magical world were scared. Not scared enough to have realised what I was but they knew their little ritual hadn’t worked as they had intended. With a cursory glance I took in the sigils and runes around the pentagrams and snorted. “A familiar’s binding,” my eyes drifted to Chaleb’s corner and I added: “you’ve got to be kidding me.” He shrugged nonchalantly and gestured vaguely for me to do as I pleased.
With a sigh I discarded the cheap bottle and picked up the fresh one, taking care not to touch any of them. “Move,” I ordered the witch, who promptly obeyed, nearly falling over her feet as she scrambled out of her chair.
“Anna,” the blonde stammered, slowly starting to realise how panicked her friend actually was.
“Shut it, Nance,” she hissed in reply, rightening herself. I promptly sat down in her chair. With a thought I made the cork pop out of the bottle and took a long, deep gulp. Heck, that was the real deal. Distilled around 150 years ago in Scotland and about 5000 quid a bottle. Someone had to have deep pockets. Not much of a surprise, really, the gifted families tended to do rather well.
“I’m quite curious,” I began, “why would you prepare offerings for a lesser spirit? Assuming that’s who you wanted to call as a familiar, in the first place.”
“We…” the little witch tried to explain but her petite friend cut her off as she blurted out:
“What are you? I can’t even see your aura. Are you dead?”
“That’s just a courtesy. Didn’t want to blind you, but if you insist…” I slowly relaxed the iron hard grip around my core and allowed a minuscule trace of power to shimmer through. The effect was immediate. Both of them recoiled, the taller girl falling to the floor for good this time around. With a smile I suppressed my core again and looked up.
“Satisfied?” While five of them seemed utterly confused, the remaining two were white as sheets with beads of sweat running down their cheeks.
“I…we…,” Anna tried to explain but her voice wouldn’t quite work as she wanted it to. Turning to her friends I asked:
“Could someone help the blithering idiot out? What are the lot of you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be up there, doing something you’ll regret tomorrow?”
The blonde… Nancy or some such, was the first to actually meet my eye. “I… it seems like we managed as much down here, easily enough.” Alright, maybe they weren’t as stupid as I had thought. “We…,” her eyes darted to her mute compatriots, clearly looking for advice, but the witch as well as the hybrid were busy staring at me. “They wanted to…” she swallowed dryly and went on in a rush: “they wanted to show us real magic, call for a servant we could use. I… you’re not a familiar, are you?” My eyes almost vanished beneath my hairline and the two actually gifted ones started trembling, gradually edging away from me.
“I’d be more careful, if I were you,” I said after I had taken another sip, directly from the bottle. I sought Chaleb’s gaze and to my surprise, he willingly explained:
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“Just play along, do as you wish. That’s how most contracts are signed, ineptitude and arrogance mixed with a burning desire. I just want to know what you’re going to do. I won’t swoop in, the only thing they have to fear is you. You have my word.”
“Whatever that’s worth,” I grumbled. What was he getting at? I’d be walking out the door, as soon as I had finished my bottle and maybe tried the cigar. Louder I added: “a familiar is not a race or even a creature. It’s a title for a being shackled to someone else. So, to answer your question, I’m not yet, but I could be, if one of you had the guts and the strength to try.” Her eyes lit up with a greedy fire I didn’t like but before she could dig a hole for herself the witch found her voice again.
“Nance, whatever you’re thinking about, just don’t. Remember when you met my granddad? He’s worse, much worse.”
“But he has taken the offering, shouldn’t…” I frowned and took another sip. Right, beneath the tantalising aroma, there was something else. Myrrh and aconitine and something else I couldn’t quite place. Those girls had tried to slip me an arcane roofie. Seriously, the sheer audacity… no wonder Chaleb was grinning like a mad man.
“Does he look stoned to you,” Anna whispered, terrified. Her eyes darted to me, trying to gauge my reaction. I flipped her off and she fell silent. Whiskey… probably an imp. But why hadn’t it appeared? The sigils seemed alright and the two of them had enough juice to call one. Chaleb waved at me, his smug grin widening. Son of a bitch. I placed the bottle down and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Should I tell them off? Scare them straight? Play along? What was I even doing here? Right… a burning desire. Jesus, my curiosity would one day be the end of me.
“Ladies,” I continued jovially, “something is rotten in the state of Denmark. You’ve gotten a bit more than you’ve bargained for, but, since I’m already here, why don’t you tell me what your little coven is all about? Depending on your answer, I might even overlook the poison you’ve tried to slip me. Is the cigar laced as well?” The hybrid nodded hesitantly. “No matter.” I took it between my teeth and lit it with a thought. Unfortunately it tasted like crap, the burning herbs entirely ruining the flavour. I pulled a face and pushed it away. “I hope it wasn’t Cuban. Would have been a waste. Alright, I’d quite like to know whom I’m dealing with, but I’ve been told it’s quite rude to ask a charming girl for her name, unless you’ve already introduced yourself. I’ve got quite a few monikers, but I imagine the one you’re most familiar with is Lightbringer, or Lucifer, for those of you who know a bit of Latin. Congratulations, the devil went down to Georgia and I’m not here to play the fiddle.” The last reference might have gone over their heads but when I manifested my wings, I managed to get my point across. Anna and whatever the timid halfbreed was called were close to fainting, their eyes bulging, wet with tears, while their friends looked thunderstruck. A moment later, the former two were on their knees, urging the latter wordlessly to follow suit. After another quick peek at the crackling apparition of light and power, I had turned into, they did so immediately. Huh, I could get used to this. If only they hadn’t spoiled the cigar. Or not. On second thought, I didn’t think I appreciated grovelling all that much. Pride was important, at least to me.
“Get up,” I hissed, my voice thrumming with barely a hint of strength. They couldn’t resist. “It’s much too late for apologies. You prepared a slave circle and were willing to use it. Why?”
“An initiation,” Anna replied tremulously, staring at the floor.
“Whose?”
“Mine. The blood of seven would have allowed me to bind a stronger spirit. Please, let them go. I’m the one at fault. Except for Ceci, they don’t even know how to draw a circle.” I breathed in deeply, savouring the acrid scent of fear. The supernatural duo was almost paralysed, while the rest were only now slowly starting to feel a shadow of the truth. My wings vanished and the light dissipated, only my eyes retained their fire. With a quiet chuckled I replied:
“Let them go? Why wouldn’t I? Oh, right, bad publicity. Don’t worry, worst thing to happen will be me feeding you a tiny bit of your own medicine.” I tapped the bottle thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe it would kill you. Humans are so fragile… let’s make a game out of it. You’re into bondage, right?” Judging from their expressions they took my words just a bit too literally. What I was actually referring to was the familiar’s bond, Anna had been trying to establish. It was a chain that allowed the summoner to dumb the backlash of powerful magics, magics that would kill or cripple them otherwise, onto his familiar. Newton had taken his inspiration from a simple magical fact: for every action, there’s a reaction. If you intended to create a mountain, you’d have to make sure you could withstand the pressure, otherwise… unless you were an immortal or had a handy sacrifice at hand, you’d turn into a bloody smear on the ground. Simply imagine having the strength to lift said mountain but nothing else. Your body would implode. A familiar was an easy way out of that bind. For the one in charge, that is. For the summoned entity… not so much.
Consequentially some practitioners had taken to evaluating the strength of a magician through the strength of the familiar they could control. Others, more advanced schools, had found different means. A dragon’s carbuncle for example. A nigh indestructible construct that could contain the feedback. Skill and strength were also options. It didn’t really matter for most mundane spells, but if you were aiming to cross a certain threshold, you’d have to find a solution, one way or the other.
Laughing softly, I explained myself: “I’m not referring to your sexual proclivities. But this,” I pointed at the sketches, “is what I’d call binding. Now then, how many of you actually know what’s supposed to be happening here?” Unsurprisingly Anna was still unable to meet my eye, while the others seemed slightly confused. Scared but confused.
“In that case, allow me to enlighten you. Your… friend, if you can call her that, meant to borrow your strength to force another being into servitude. We’re in America, right? What you’ve heard about the slave trade is a mere pittance in comparison to the fate the summoned entity would have to endure, until it would one day perish under the strain.” Despite her shaky voice, the witch managed to whisper:
“They aren’t sentient. I’ve been told they can’t even feel pain.”
“Have you, now? Let me the first or disabuse you of the notion. Here.” I took another look at the runes and extended my hand. A moment later, a small, human figure with bat like wings materialised in my palm. It looked almost like a darker version of tinker bell, with black skin, glowing red eyes and ruby hair. She took one glance at us, saw the pentagrams and pressed herself against my thumb, shivering uncontrollably.
“Does that look like a… a thing to you,” I wanted to now. In a different language, I added: “don’t fret, little one. I’ll release you shortly, there’s nothing to fear. If you’d be willing to talk to them, I can even feed you some power before you return. I promise.”
“My lord,” was her only reply, but she relaxed visibly, curiosity slowly drowning out the flickering panic in her gaze. She knew what my oath was worth. Most magical creatures did instinctively.
“That’s… that’s a,” the hybrid, Cecilia, stammered.
“That’s an ancient imp,” I explained. “The same type of creature you meant to call, isn’t it? Go ahead, talk to her. She can understand you. Talk to her and tell me again how she doesn’t feel.”
It took a while before one of them scraped together the courage to look up. In the meantime I focused on Chaleb.
“What are you getting at? Usually you’d have swooped in here and tricked them, maybe even for valid reasons. That much I’ve understood.” He chuckled.
“Not at all. You’ve been mostly in contact with mortals when you’ve either killed or saved them. I want you to see what they truly are. For example… do you believe her excuse?”
“That she didn’t know? No. She must have seen familiars before, maybe even talked to them. She knows exactly what she’s trying to do. It’s a lie, like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar.”
“Exactly. They lie, they cheat, they resort to any means necessary to get what they want and circumvent the consequences. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Just… play along for a while and I’m willing to bet, however much you want me to, that you’re going to force one or several of them into a familiar’s contract. And that’s only because you can’t do anything else. If you were able to, you’d… feed them a bit of their own medicine. You’d make a demonic pact.”