The house did not look like anything special, such as it was lying there in the middle of the street, between all the other houses. The house could best be described as a classic villa house with its own garden and large carport.
It was built in 2 floors with a small basement, and high rise. For many years, the yellow paint that adorned the house had faded and revealed the tree below. The fence out by the road had also seen better days, but it was a cozy house and the family in it loved their home.
If you stepped in through the front door, you would find yourself in a small hallway that gave access to the large living room and the small kitchen. If you carefully slipped over the old green carpets in the living room, you would be able to take the large glass doors out onto the south-facing terrace. From the living room it was also possible to enter the guest room, which also served as the office where the Lord of the house made his accounts.
The family spent many evenings sitting on the terrace and enjoying the evening sun.
If you found your way back to the hallway, you would find the stairs that led up to the first floor and into a small door on the side of the stairs you would find the stairs down to the basement. The cellar was used as a storage room for everything from wine, to old books, to a pool table and a sofa. On cold winter evenings, the Lord of the House could be found down here with a couple of good friends playing a game of billiards.
A walk up the old worn stairs to the first floor would lead one up to a small hallway with only 3 doors, however, it is important to be careful with step number five, it has seen better days.
The door on the left led into a nice little children's room if you ask the only woman in houses. this was where, the teenager of the house, lived. he was a nice but dull guy with flat dead brown hair who fell down over his blue eyes and always hit his slightly crooked nose. The nose was broken after falling from a tree as a child.
His jaw was still its soft round shape it had had since he was quite small, he often wondered if it would ever be defined, or if his face should remain so childish.
His body having the same problem as his face, far too neutral.
He was neither tall nor short, just mediocre, no big muscles, but not fat either. He was the type you could easily stand and talk to and five minutes later, you would not be able to describe him, so dull was his appearance.
His parents, who had a bedroom opposite him, had given him free disposal of how he would decorate his room. It had ended up in a poster of some pop star on one wall and his PC set up under it.
Next to his desk with the PC stood an old TV to which his ps was connected. It was placed so that he could lie in his bed, which stood up against the opposite wall, and play his games.
In addition to the poster, his walls were painted matt blue and the window to the road had blackout curtains, although not much natural light came in through his north-facing window.
Inside the last door, at the end of the hall, was the large bathroom. When he was a teenager, his father had put up an extra shelf next to the closet system his parents had so he could have his stuff in there. It was not much he had used it for, but he appreciated the idea.
He had always had difficulty at school, he could not concentrate on any of what the teachers were trying to teach him, and he always got bad grades. At an early age it had been discovered that he was not only dyslexic but also number blind.
Everyone in his class had known he was "stupid" after a teacher had left his grade sheet lying open on his desk when they were in 5th grade. That, combined with his dull appearance, had made him an obvious target for bullying.
Many times he had come home smeared into everything from paint to mud to eggs. It was not uncommon for his bag to be damaged or his jacket ripped open. By the time he reached 7th grade, he had had enough, and had begun to defend himself against these thugs. It had resulted in many home conversations about his violent outbursts, and he had been placed under house arrest so often that it was a wonder he had not completely lost touch with the outside world. There had never been a teacher who had seen it happen, so it was always Karl who got the trouble when he had defended himself.
By an incredible stroke of luck, he manages to get a little more than pure bottom grades in his 9th grade exam. Combined with the fact that his father knew the principal of the local high school, who thought that they could probably find out how to get him through, he had entered a high school.
The first year had gone as he had expected. After 3 weeks, it had become clear to everyone who was the death sailor of the class, and he had come to terms with it.
The only time he was really worth anything was in chemistry, but it had more to do with the fact that their teachings were hands on and they were in the lab almost at all hours.
Karl wished he could start looking grown up soon. He was 17 now and his second year was about to start soon and he still had never had a girlfriend.
The girls in the class avoided him as he did not look anything special and his reputation from primary school as an aggressive guy, had overtaken him in high school, and had ruined all his chances.
He had tried to do something about the hair, but he could not pull himself together to fix it. He had tried to let his beard grow, but it just made him look like a caveman. The only thing he did not try was to train, but it was again due to the fact that he could not get along with it. The closest he had ever been to having a girlfriend was in elementary school, but it had only been by title. He had quickly discovered that it was only a challenge some of the girls had given his "girlfriend" to see if she could trick him into thinking he meant something.
"Karl" sounded his father's voice and pulled him out of his thoughts. "Do you come down and help your mother sort out all the clothes she got from your aunt" Even though it was formulated as a question, Karl knew very well that it was not.
If he did not show up right away and help, his pocket money would be withheld for the month. It may well be that they did not reach for much more than a trip to the cinema, then they were cool to have and if he could gather together for a few months, then there was enough for a new game.
"Coming," he hurried and answered as he closed the doors to his room carefully. It hung a little, just like every other door in the house, but it was no problem, he had grown up with it.
The 15 steps that were down the stairs were taken with great care, he should not enjoy anything from jumping down a few steps at a time and risk having a recurrence of the accident that has damaged step 5.
"What can I do?" He asked cheekily as he entered the living room and saw the mountain of boxes standing inside. His mother was just like the house, classic middle-class, slim Nordic blonde woman in her mid-40s. She must have been incredibly beautiful when she was young, if her father's descriptions were to be believed, but time had begun to take on her and it could be seen.
Her once young supple and smooth skin had begun to look a little flabby and unclean. She still looked good from a woman in her mid-40s, but the ravages of time could be clearly seen on her.
"You can take and clear the coffee table, then we can put it on," she said happily. How she could hold on to the fact that he was sweet and nice when his father had started to bite off him and get hard and cold towards him was a mystery.
His father's anger got worse and worse over the years as Karl got more and more problems in school. This cold side would have infected him a lot, if he did not think much about it, then he also came to nibble on everything and everyone.
"I can do that, mother" Karl replied and hurried to move things from the coffee table to the shelf next to the television. "Why is it that aunt always comes with so much clothes, where does she get it from?" Karl asked as he started emptying one of the boxes so they had one to start packing everything that was just going to red crosses down in.
"She buys it cheap, from her work" his mother replied. Well, yes, he knew that, as far as Karl remembered, his aunt was a photo model for some big fashion magazine, and they could get the clothes, after a photo shoot, for almost no money.
After spending almost the entire afternoon, they had arrived at what was going where. "When we have eaten you can take the four boxes up to the ceiling" began his mother "But right now you can go out and set the table, the roast I put over must soon be finished" His mother was a fantastic cook, just like the stereotype said she should be. He always loved her cooking, no matter how bad mood he was in, the smell of her cooking could always make him happy again. "Of course mom, it will happen right away" he replied quickly, and went out into the kitchen.
"Where are we going to eat?" he asked as he opened the old cupboards to find plates and cutlery. "Out on the terrace, it's so nice weather" it sounded from the living room, where his father was scratching his hair over all that clothes. "Then I put on out there right away" Karl replied.
Stolen novel; please report.
After dinner, his father helped him get the boxes up to the attic. In the attic of the first floor it was possible to open a hatch where a ladder came down from. Up in the attic there was dust everywhere, it was many years ago there were some who had thought about cleaning up here.
In addition to spiders and other crawls, there were lots of boxes of clothes and heirlooms no one knew what they were going to use for, but they had not been able to get themselves to throw it out. The room alone was reasonably large, and the ridge of the roof was made high enough to stand upright up there. The only light there was came from a window in the gable, which let in the last rays of the sun.
"Hello father" begin Karl gently "yesss" his father drew on it, you could hear he expected something unpleasant. "If I clean up here myself, is it possible that I can be allowed to use it as an extension of my room?" He asked cautiously.
"If you clean up yourself, I can not see the problem in letting you do it" his father replied relieved that it was nothing else Karl wanted.
After putting the new boxes up in the attic, Karl was given free rein to move around as long as he was careful. He ended up spending the whole evening moving around on boxes, to get some floor space made.
He had been given stickers and a sheet of paper along the way, and had been asked to number the boxes and make a list of what was in which ones.
When Karl had moved the last box away, so that he now had a room twice the size of his own room, he opened the last box to see what was in it. He had found many strange things in the boxes, but this one was the strangest.
There was always a theme in the boxes, but this one most of all seemed to consist of rags. The first thing he found was an old photo of who he guessed was his grandmother as a young woman, he had only met her once. She stood with a book in her arms and hugged it to her.
The next was an ugly doll. It most of all looked like a voodoo doll, there were also large amounts of blackboard chalk and a stick with a skull at the top where one would grab. Under a bunch of other weird stuff and a layer of rope, he found a book that immediately caught his interest.
The cover of the book was made in what felt like leather and the front was adorned with a red ruby. Around the ruby were written some symbols that most of all resembled a cross between Greek letters and Nordic runes.
After looking at them for a while, something mysterious happened that almost made Karl throw the book away. The strange symbols changed and a text became clear to him.
Black magic 101
It was written in neat letters above the ruby and below it was the same beautiful handwriting
A warlocks guide to world domination.
Karl sat and looked at the book for a long time. There were so many things he did not understand at all. How did the text change all of a sudden and why could he read it so easily. Usually he had an incredibly hard time reading even the simplest sentences, due to the fact that it felt as if the letters would not stand still, but the two sentences stood out perfectly to him.
Why did they have such a book lying on the ceiling, and if he was not mistaken, then it was the same book that his grandmother had been in the picture with. Karl tried to open the book, but it was like glued together. After sitting and struggling with it for some time, he gave up and put it down. As he laid the book down, the light from the only window fell directly on the ruby, and Karl noticed several of these strange symbols engraved in the ruby itself.
All the knowledge a warlock needs is worth bleeding for.
Karl immediately knew what the ruby meant by that, but he did not know if he had become completely pimped or what, since he did not hesitate to obey it. He had found a knife in the box with the book, and now took it out again.
As a victim of bullying, Karl was used to pain, so he had no problem poking a hole in his index finger, and letting a single drop fall on the ruby. Suddenly it was as if a candle was lit behind the ruby and a red light spread out from the book, while some new text became visible in the ruby.
Welcome young warlock to a world of knowledge.
When he had finished reading it, a faint click sounded. Karl guessed that the book could probably now be opened and took it with shaking hands and picked it up again. Forgotten was the knife he had just used to cut himself with.
All his worries about how the new school year would go were not given a thought, and there was not a single worry about how he was going to get a girlfriend. The only thing he could think of was what was hidden in this mysterious book.
With a steady motion he took and opened the book on page one, where a pentagram had been drawn, in which the title had been written again. He seemed rather boring, but everything could not be equally exciting. On page two, it was that it was really starting to dawn on him what it was he had in his hands. A message had been written from whom he would guess was the author of the book.
To my descendants. If you can read this message, it means you have inherited our family's secret ability. The language you are reading right now is called Demekilan, it is a written language we were taught by the demons themselves. In addition to being able to read the written language of the demons, we also learned to use mana as a medium to bend reality to our will. Through our contracts with the dead and the demons, we got the title of warlocks.
Our family has been warlocks for hundreds of years and me and my father have jointly tried to gather us this book, in an attempt to gather our knowledge somewhere. The book is enchanted, with a myriad of curses and incantations designed to protect it. No one who is not of my lineage can open the book and even after it has been opened, only the opener can change in it.
The book is designed to create new pages if necessary to make room for new texts. It is secured against wear and against all the elements through some ancient curses. If anyone tries to harm the book, they will simply harm themselves.
Here in the book you will find everything from how to make a fireball, to how to summon the devil himself. The only thing you can not learn in this book is how to become a good human being. We can teach you all about how to enchant the mind and bind mortals in eternal contracts to you. The first thing you will find, however, is a description of how that you invoke your personal demon helper. Throughout our time as warlocks, we have always had a personal helper who was dedicated to teaching a young warlock everything there was to know about our magic.
After this message came a list of names that Karl presumed were former warlocks. At the bottom of the list was his grandmother's name, next to what he assumed would be her personal demon's name. Karl could not quite decide whether to write his name or whether to wait. He ended up deciding to wait a bit and start reading something more in the book.
On the page after the message there was indeed a list of ingredients and illustrations of how he should summon his personal demon. The list of ingredients contains some macabre things, such as cat paws and bones from a relative. a note had been written in the marrow of the page.
I have started a tradition where we store our deceased parents' index finger in a bag that would like to be hidden somewhere, it should make it easier for young warlocks to get their first human bone.
See it explained why that his mother insisted on saving grandma and grandpa's index finger. "Why just the index finger" Karl began to ask himself when the next bit of the note became readable to him.
The index finger is usually a warlock's best focus if he or she does not use his or her wand.
See it explained a lot, it was a matter of symbolism, a warlock used his index finger to control his magic so it was also the best sacrifice he could make.
There were many other ingredients, including something that was only there to grease the demon and to try to make it a better match. The ritual did not really look difficult to perform, it was difficult to obtain all the ingredients.
Karl did not know why he was so interested in what the book told him, and he did not know why he wanted to try the ritual. Karl did not get much further before his father's voice sounded loud from the living room
"There coffee if you want something" and again he knew that it was not a question of whether he wanted coffee, it was an order to come down from the attic and drink evening coffee with his parents.
After the coffee, Karl manages to get his mother alone in the kitchen, by offering to clean up after the coffee. "Hello mom" he began nervously, how did he ask where his grandparents' put off fingers were, without it sounding wrong.
"Yes darling" she replied calmly as she took out of the dishwasher. "Come to think of where we've done off Grandma and Grandpa's fingers, I do not think I came across them the last time I washed off." He asked, trying to push as much joy as he could into his voice.
His mother froze in the middle of grabbing the next plate. "Your grandmother and grandfather's fingers?" she asked as she turned to him.
"Yeah just wanted to make sure they hadn't disappeared the last time we cleaned up" he said while holding his back to her to put some cups in place. Knowing he had his back to her, he did not see her shocked face. "Look at me Karl" her voice suddenly sounded right behind him.
Karl turned around right on the spot, and could not understand the searching look he saw in his mother's eyes. "You have the ability, don't you?" she sounded accusing. "I do not know what you're talking about" he tried to lie but came to look away for a moment. "You have to become a better liar. No one should know what you can do soon, ”she said calmly as she took a step away from him. "You found Grandma's book in the attic?" it sounded both like an opinion and a question.
Karl did not know what to do. he had never been able to lie to his mother, but what was he to say. "Mom said well enough that you reacted positively to her mana." she commented as she returned to the dishwasher.
"I'll probably find them for you tomorrow if you will let me look at you when you summon your first demon" she said with a big smile while Karl just stood there completely speechless, his mother had just promised him to help him to set up his first ritual? He could not understand at all what he had just heard.
How do you know what to use them for? I did not see your name in the book ”Karl asked in astonishment, his mother just smiled and answered
”Your grandmother loved to tell stories about the demons from her young days. She never got very strong, but she could tell a lot of stories. Mom was so sad when I could not read any of the book, but she did a lot to still tell me about the world I missed. ”
Okay so his mom couldn't read the book, but she knew it was there. And she wants to help him. How could this day be better? "I think we have an old cat walking around the area, can probably lure it into a trap, the rest of the ingredients, I think we can buy or we already have them in the house." mumbled his mother as she put another plate in place.
"But enough about that now, if you're going to start collecting all the parts tomorrow, you'll have to get to bed," she finished as she pushed Karl out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. Karl went up in a fog and went straight to bed. The only thing he could think of was that his mother would help him summon his first demon.