London, 1849
Edward tugged at the collar of his cassock, feeling constricted. This was it. His heart was thumping heavily in his ears, as Sir Grantham's voice faded into hearing.
"-viously, I shall be supervising the entire process. I do not expect the fiend to trouble you so, but protocol dictates. Remember to stay calm. You do not have to make a Pact with any demon you’re even slightly unsure about. You have checked your tools, young Edward?"
Ed could only nod in assent. He'd gone over his designs for the circle numerous times, checked and rechecked the chalk-drawn platform, everything he could think of. His blasting rod quivered in his tight fisted grip as he took a deep breath. He glanced over at Sir Grantham, who was noting down the time in his pocketbook.
"You may begin."
Edward pricked his finger, a single drop of blood welling up and falling to the ground. Immediately as it splattered, the chalk outlines on the floor lit up with his Numen, the ominous shade of red illuminating the room. He started the chant to call Valefar, the illusion demon they'd chosen to be his first real summon, making sure to enunciate every syllable.
The candles dotted around the room roared, blazing with an unnatural strength. The malevolent, oil-slick feeling of demonic taint in the air grew as Ed fortified the connection to Hell. The faint screams of the damned whispered into his ear, threatening to break his focus. Ed spoke on, undeterred.
The temperature in the room rose in increments, each section of the chant he finished sparked another increase in the heat. Ed's face started prickling with sweat. Still, he spoke on. A glance at Sir Grantham revealed him jotting down observations, nodding slightly.
Relieved that he hadn't made any egregious errors thus far, Ed readied his Armament and blasting rod. He carefully placed the pistol at a junction between the summoning circle and containment platform. With another drop of blood, it gained a golden sheen to it, though this time he also smeared some on the blasting rod. His blood infusing the rod with Numen, he drew a sigil in the air in front of him. The faint golden outline hung suspended in the air in front of him, but with another word, the sigil started pulling energy from the circle, getting tainted red in the process. It grew in brightness until it rivalled the enraged candles, then drifted over to affix itself to one side of the triangular platform.
He drew two more sigils this way, then with his containment area complete, he completed the chant. All he had to do now was step into the circle and catalyse the summoning. He would need all his wits to entreat a demon successfully.
Taking a deep breath, and with one last look back at Grantham, Edward stepped forward.
And immediately passed out.
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Over the past year, Grantham had pushed Ed to the brink to prepare for his Scholomance enrollment. Already quite fit from his rooftop activities, Grantham shaped Ed's body, like a smith shapes metal, into a lean, powerful tool.
Ed was educated on a variety of subjects to help him accomplish his future tasks in the Knighthood. He learned court etiquette and slum etiquette. He learned how to shoot and how to swing a sword. He learned to recognise the seals of all the archdemons and to run the fuck away if he ever saw them somewhere they weren't supposed to be. Most importantly, however, he learned how to summon a demon. Which led him to his final assessment to graduate into Squiredom, successfully forming a Pact.
Where it all went wrong.
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"Finally. I've been waiting, Iblis."
The man speaking was sat on a couch in front of a crackling hearth, one leg over the other, sipping at a cup of tea.
Ed, who'd just appeared nude in what looked like the study of an obscenely wealthy scholar, shook his head in confusion.
"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I naked? What the fuck's going on?"
The man chuckled. He had short dark hair, with a moustache and beard like one of the villains in a penny dreadful. He wore a dress shirt and trousers with a black waistcoat.
"I'm feeling generous, so in order, I am the one that brought you here, you're just outside Hell, you are not here physically and I presume clothes aren't a part of your mental image of yourself. As for your last question, that's a bit more complicated to answer."
Ed took note of the suspicious way he'd dodged the question of his identity, but there was nothing to do about it right now.
He must be a demon. Valefar? Is this all an illusion?
"I was with Sir Grantham in the Manor basement. I was summoning a... Oh God, did I die?"
The man chuckled again.
"Not yet, young Iblis. Not yet. But that brings me to why you're here. I need to put something inside you and I can't do that in the physical world."
Ed scoffed.
"You're a Demon. You should be appearing in my triangle, not bringing me to Hell. I don't want anything you have to offer."
With a dark grin, the man responded.
Stolen story; please report.
"Many things should happen but reality is often disappointing. Another disappointing reality is you don't get a choice in this. You belong to me."
Ed frowned.
"I won't believe a demon's lies, no child of God can be owned by the likes of you."
At this, the man released a full, rich belly laugh, even tearing up slightly. He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief before responding.
"Of course, they haven't told you. The big man's currently indisposed, child. I can do whatever I want to you. Luckily, you didn't foolishly try to actually bind me to servitude, so I'm limited by the Pact your mother made."
Despite being a mental apparition, Ed still felt his heart start racing. Was this a demonic lie?
"Now I know you deceive me. My mother abandoned me in infancy."
"Oh no, young Iblis, she did much worse. Let’s just say her and the Grand Grimoire have a… complicated history.”
Ed felt his world collapse. He fell backwards, expecting to land on the floor but ending up in a plush chair. He'd mentioned the Grand Grimoire. There was only one Grand Grimoire and it was used to summon one specific demon.
"You're... Lucifer?"
"Close, but no. Your mother organised this whole business with Lucifer himself but because of reasons you don't need to know, the Pact she made on your behalf was up for grabs among the archdemons. Only me, Beelzebub and Asmodeus really wanted it, so Bee and I came to an agreement and I won your soul. My name is Sathanas, Prince of the Air, Lord of the Sky. Most know me as Satan."
Ed’s heart dropped into his stomach.
Fuck. Shite. I'm dead. If Satan himself doesn't devour my soul, the Church will kill me immediately once they see my Pact.
He saw no way out.
Almost listlessly, Ed asked one more question, nearly whispering.
"But how could I possibly help you? As soon as I wake up, I'm going to be killed for summoning Satan. Holy shite, I actually summoned Satan."
The archdemon chuckled.
"Don't worry about that, you wouldn't be much use to me as a corpse. As for how you can help me, well, you're my new antichrist."
Ed fell off his chair, unwittingly loosing a nervous fart.
Satan started laughing uproariously. Ed was decidedly not amused.
"Don’t joke around with me. Is this a trick?"
"Oh no, I was serious. You are mine. But your status won't be an issue for the next few years most likely. You were right about getting immediately killed if the Church found out I'm hanging around inside you. Which is why I won't be. Abe! Come here!"
Satan clapped his hands and a boy about Ed's age appeared in the room with them. He looked middle eastern, with dark curly hair, tanned brown skin and striking green eyes that looked disturbingly similar to Grantham's. He had wings behind his back like an angel, but one was white, fluffy and radiant, while the other was small, leathery, webbed like a bat's wing, and a deep blood red.
Satan clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"This is Abezethibod, but we just call him Abe around here."
'Abe' gave a long-suffering groan.
"I just got here, Uncle, why must you embarrass me in front of everyone we meet."
Satan just chuckled and ruffled his hair as Abe tried to swat his hand away.
This is.... unexpectedly cute.
Satan turned to Ed.
"Abe here is my nephew, Bee's son. The only relative I actually like. He will be the other half of your Pact for now. Make no mistake, I am the one you are contracted with, but Abe is the one your Inquisition hounds will see and the one you'll be interacting with. Say hello boys."
Ed and Abe awkwardly waved at each other as Satan smiled at the scene.
"This warms my heart. Now that we're all friends, let me be clear to you, Iblis. Abe is very important to me. He's taking a big risk by travelling to the physical realm with you."
"But Uncle, you told me I don't have a ch-"
"A very big risk he's taking out of the goodness of his heart. So make sure nothing happens to him. If he gets exorcised, I will lay the blame squarely at your feet. And remember, I'm literally Satan. Do not anger me."
As he said this, the fire in the hearth roared, casting strange misshapen shadows on the wall. Ed’s shadow transformed into that of a small child, while Satan’s became a massive bear, with Abe as a tiny bear cub behind him. Abe sighed and held his face in his palm.
Ed gulped, nodding profusely. Then a confused expression crossed his face.
"Why do you call me Iblis? That's not my name."
Satan chuckled. He did that a lot.
"It is your name. I named you, all those years ago. Anyway, have fun you two."
Both Ed and Abe began fading from the study.
"What? Wait! I have questions about my mother."
"That's a shame. Bye now!"
And the scene vanished.
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Ed resurfaced in his circle, standing there like nothing had even happened.
He looked around in a panic, but Grantham was still scribbling in his pocketbook. He turned to the triangle and there was Abe, sitting cross-legged, with an expectant look on his face.
Shite, how do I play this off? He's supposed to be Valefar.
Just run through your script, I'll make it easy for you.
Abe?? What??
We're already in a Pact. Or rather, I'm riding on Uncle Sath's Pact with you. That means I get out of Tartarus and live inside your head, you use my powers, Uncle maintains a secret link to the earth. Everyone wins. Do the thing.
Ed cleared his throat before nervously starting.
"Uh, Valefar! I have summoned you to create a Pact!"
Abe immediately reacted, standing up and moulting, the boy's skin sloughing off as a gigantic muscle-bound, horned red and black demon pulled itself out. It barely fit the bounds of the containment, indeed, he likely would have grown bigger had there been more space. The demon unfurled a massive black wing, akin to a dragon’s, that got blocked in by the containment sigils. In stark contrast, the small, red one on his left side barely touched the edge of the triangle. He roared with barely contained rage.
"YOU WOULD DARE TRY TO COLLAR ME! FOOLISH MORTAL, I AM NOT VALEFAR, BUT A FAR SUPERIOR BEING! I AM THE DEMON OF THE RED SEA! THE SCOURGE OF EGYPT! THE WARDEN OF TARTARUS ITSELF! I AM ABEZETHIBOD AND YOU WILL SUBORDINATE YOURSELF TO ME!!"
Ed had not been prepared for this burst of aggression and stumbled over his next words.
"Uh, Abezethibod! Uhh.."
Rebuke me in God's name.
"Abezethibod! I rebuke you in God's name! You are not the one I summoned!"
"INSOLENT HUMAN, YOU THINK YOUR GOD CAN SAVE YOU?! BOW BEFORE ME!"
Use the amplifier.
Amplifier?
In your hand. The stick thing. Draw a compulsion sigil.
Ed quickly infused the blasting rod with his Numen and drew another sigil. This time it did not draw energy from the circle, instead just hanging frozen in the air.
He then stabbed the rod directly into the sigil, causing Abe to howl in pain.
Shite, sorry.
Don't worry, the performance is for our audience’s benefit, this could never actually hurt me. Break the amplifier and stab both broken ends into the sigil.
Ed snapped the blasting rod over his knee, then lunged forward with a roar into the sigil, broken ends sparking and sputtering.
"Submit, fell beast! Submit!"
Abe shrieked with pain, writhing and gnashing until eventually he cried out.
"I submit! No more please, I submit."
Fell beast?
Hey this is my first time making a fake Pact, I think I did just fine.
With Abe's words, the red-gold sigils enclosing the containment triangle flashed with power.
Ed looked back at Grantham, who was looking over the entire situation with both eyebrows raised. Which, for him, was equivalent to gaping open-mouthed.
"So, how did I do?"