Maybe I'd been naive in my treatment of the goetia. Maybe I'd been too eager to dismiss the hundreds of years of warnings and the threats of ruin. Maybe I really had just invited a fiend into my house and my soul was forfeit! Fuck it! My soul already feels forfeit! I could accept the idea of demons and spirits and maybe even gods, but heaven? A two-thousand year old fiction to self-subjugate the masses to class domination? Don't be ridiculous. Look around! There is no justice in this world or the next.

When I unlocked the front door I looked suspiciously over the house. It all held silent, but I knew I wasn't alone. I wondered if my infernal guest still rested in the ceremonial chamber or lurked in some dark corner to ambush me.

Just then something black and short burst forth from the hall and shot past me towards the living room where I had established the altar. I heard the falling of books and the shuffling of junk. I raced to see what was there- but it was just Artie, chasing a mouse which I deftly caught in my hands and released outside, much to the fluffy monster's chagrin.

I looked around the rest of the living room. Nothing seemed out of place. The ritual altar stood the same as I left it the night before. I re-lit the candle and the incense on the altar-top and looked into the skying mirror, but it was still only just after sunset and it would be an hour or so before it was dark enough to use the mirror.

I flopped down on the couch and took a deep sigh. When was he likely to show up? What was I going to do about it?

Sure, the polemics told me to expect fire and brimstone, fear and loathing, and sure, it was important to have my wits about me and not to be a pushover, it was a demon after all, but then again, I was planning to work with this spirit for the next year, and how would you feel if you were presumed to be an enemy to be dominated? I didn't want to start off our working relationship on the wrong foot.

So taking my cue from all the infamous parties thrown in Satan's honor, I decided to treat this demon the way I would any other guest of honor. I loaded my hookah and lit some coals on the stove-top. I had a half loaf of a baguette I'd been slowly picking away at from the kitchen drawer for the last week to share, and opened up a bottle of cheap wine my mom had left in the back of the fridge, pouring out a glass for me and a glass for him. I put on some lo-fi, turned on the Christmas lights draped across the room, opened the screen window to let in the night air, and set the orange simmering coals on the hookah bowl.

I held the hose in my fingers and inhaled deeply of the sweet shisha smoke, belching a cloud of blueberry-vanilla with the numbing tinge of mint that swirled around me like the ghostly white tentacles of phantasmic jellyfish.

I continued to pleasurably puff from the smoldering hookah and I felt myself become light-headed. It was dark now, and the dim light and smoky atmosphere made everything feel dream-like.

From out the open window, there came a moderate breeze, which seemed unusual on such a humid summer night, and in with it blew a bustle of long thin green leaves. When the wind had dissipated I billowed another vast plume of the shisha fumes, and, as the smoke swirled, the contours of a human face took form.

My eyes bulged. I stopped smoking and stood up from the couch, the blood rushing to my head. I caught my bearings and hobbled towards the altar in the other room.

I sat down before the altar and trained my eye on the skrying mirror, scouring the flicker of the candlelight for a sign.

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There, standing behind me in the mirror, was a tall man.

I froze. I didn't know how to react.

The man stood with his top almost grazing the ceiling. Wrapped around and extending out from his head was an elaborate crown of woven branches, snaking and intertwining. His figure was imposing and strong, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. His features were soft and full of youth, his skin seemed to almost gleam in the candlelight, but his eyes were hollow.

After a moment of taking in his features I resumed my composure and asked-

"Spirit, what is thy name?"

The man slowly opened his mouth and pursed his lips together as if to whistle. Within the room a sound seemed to whirr like the wind kicking up dead leaves from the ground in autumn, and through the breeze a voice formed and it whispered "Frimost"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My stomach was filled with butterflies. It was one thing to imagine about this moment for months on end, it was another thing to be there with the object of my yearnings face to face. I greeted him in goodwill:

"Lord Frimost, I, Silvana Smith, Greet you in amity! I wish to parlay with you that we might form a pact to our mutual benefit!"

Frimost hung silent for a moment, and a fear gripped me that my manner of speech had been overly eager and improper.

Then he replied in his smooth voice. "What are your terms?"

I forgot what to say for a moment. I was still so nervous and awe-struck at his presence. When I recognized what he had asked, I first thought to wrench my contract from the altar, but I didn't want to break the moment, so I spoke aloud my terms, trembling as I spoke them with care:

"l-Lord Frimost, I, s-Silvana Smith, would enter into an agreement of cooperation with you! That- That we will help each other to fulfill our every desire in so far as we are able, and to offer one another tribute and friendship, b-binding us to one another for the term of one year."

Frimost's expression remained stolid.

"I accept." He said.

I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"What are your desires?" He asked dispassionately.

I gulped. I was so nervous my tongue got caught in my throat. "R-right now, my family home is in dispute. The property's mortgage went up so high we are unable to pay it unless it is refinanced. Could you allow that so that I might continue to live here? It's very important to me."

Frimost stood silent, continuing to stare at me. I felt foolish bringing something so bureaucratic and mundane to something so otherworldly. "Can... you do that...?"

"It is done. Is there something else?"

That was it? Okay... I hadn't even had anything else specific prepared...

"I would ask you to assist and instruct me in the ways of witchcraft and reveal to me the secret knowledge of this world. I ask you to grant me my utmost desires! ...Can you do those things?"

Frimost's hollow eyes continued to stare pass me, looking upon me, but never quite meeting mine. His mouth broke into a soft smile.

"Of course."

"Is there anything that you would ask of me in turn?" I said.

Frimost let out a deep breath and spoke in a polite, smooth tone. His voice was almost musical. "I would ask that you should construct for me a modest shrine, and leave upon it such things as are found in the forest, sweet fermented libations, incense as agreeable to my kind, the parchment upon which is signed our pact, and soon, at the moment that you should feel my influence fall over you for the first time, save the first stone you see and leave it upon my altar."

I nodded. "I will do all of those things within the moon."

Frimost continued to stare upon me with a serious look. For a moment I was confused and frightened something I had done or said had offended him, but then I remembered that the witch must provide the spirit with their license to depart.

"Thank you Frimost. You are free to go in peace!"

And it occurred to me to say one more thing, so I turned around and said "And I look forward to getting to know you!", but he was already gone, and had vanished when my gaze returned to the mirror.

Enraptured by victory I returned back to the couch, skipped the glass, and took a deep chug from the bottle of red wine on the coffee table. I nearly spat out the drink as I started to cackle in joy! It had worked! It had all worked!

In retrospect, it already nagged at me a little just how easily Frimost had accepted my terms.