nothing had become smudged or marred in any way. Much like a preflight checklist on an airplane. Too much was in play during a summoning for me to take chances.
Standing at the edge of the diagram, I took a deep, settling breath and allowed the energy to fill me before I carefully redirected it into the diagram and the portal I needed to form. I chanted steadily, using the cadence of the ancient words to shape my will. I bypassed the protections that would normally protect me from the demon I intended to summon. Instead, I took that power and augmented the protections that shielded me from the energies of the forming portal. One could never be too careful on that front.
Within a dozen heartbeats the portal snapped into place. I spoke the demonic lord’s name, calling him with my will and my voice. Another dozen heartbeats and he was through, crouching in the center of my diagram as the portal closed smoothly behind him.
I released the breath I was holding as my vision cleared, and I could see the crouched figure in the center of the diagram. I’d summoned the demonic lord close to half a dozen times, and had yet to shake the persistent worry that something could and would go wrong.
Then again, that was probably something I shouldn’t shake. The day I stopped worrying would also probably be the day I stopped being as meticulous and careful, and even the slightest error during a summoning could spell the kind of disaster that ended with the summoner in teeny-tiny bits.
It’s a wonder that anyone takes the risk
. Yet, it was so incredibly worth every second of risk, at least to me. Even before I’d decided to use the summoning as a supplement to my police work, I’d always felt a draw, a hunger to see and learn more. Every summoning was an accomplishment, a trial I’d overcome.
As soon as one full moon was over, I’d dive back into my studies and begin preparing for the next. It was almost like an addiction. Perhaps that was part of the talent? The hunger for it? After all, why take the risk, otherwise? If someone were to “design” a summoner, it would sure be useful to make them want to do it.
That was an oddly disturbing thought. I quickly chased it from my head as the demonic lord straightened. Then I could only stare, blinking like an idiot at him.
“What are you—” I clamped my lips shut on what I was about to say and hurriedly reworked it so that I didn’t use up one of my allotted questions. “Your clothing is…um…not your usual, er, style.”
I was accustomed to seeing him in clothing suitedto…well, a Renaissance festival—breeches, flowing shirts, boots, that sort of thing. I’d always assumed that he wore that style of clothing because that’s what demonic lords
wore
in the demon realm.
But…now he had on black jeans that hugged the muscled contours of his legs without looking sprayed on, a crisp tailored shirt so white it nearly made his silver-blond hair look dark in contrast, and a grey jacket that looked like it was some sort of exceedingly expensive silk-wool blend.
And his hair. Holy shit, the hair! His hair had formerly hung to his waist, but now it ended just past his shoulders. Even the normal alabaster hue of his skin looked like it had been replaced with the faintest touch of…a tan?
He looked like an action hero on the red carpet. He looked
hot
—in a completely new and different way from what I was used to. And I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. What game was he playing now? There was no possible way this had been done solely to impress me.
The light from the fireplace bathed his skin in a warm glow. A smile twitched his lips, and his crystal blue eyes found mine. “Smoothly performed, as usual,” he said with approval, and it took me a few seconds of mental floundering to realize he was referring to my summoning technique. Normally I’d have basked in the glow of such a compliment—especially since he never gave empty compliments—but at the moment I
Standing at the edge of the diagram, I took a deep, settling breath and allowed the energy to fill me before I carefully redirected it into the diagram and the portal I needed to form. I chanted steadily, using the cadence of the ancient words to shape my will. I bypassed the protections that would normally protect me from the demon I intended to summon. Instead, I took that power and augmented the protections that shielded me from the energies of the forming portal. One could never be too careful on that front.
Within a dozen heartbeats the portal snapped into place. I spoke the demonic lord’s name, calling him with my will and my voice. Another dozen heartbeats and he was through, crouching in the center of my diagram as the portal closed smoothly behind him.
I released the breath I was holding as my vision cleared, and I could see the crouched figure in the center of the diagram. I’d summoned the demonic lord close to half a dozen times, and had yet to shake the persistent worry that something could and would go wrong.
Then again, that was probably something I shouldn’t shake. The day I stopped worrying would also probably be the day I stopped being as meticulous and careful, and even the slightest error during a summoning could spell the kind of disaster that ended with the summoner in teeny-tiny bits.
It’s a wonder that anyone takes the risk
. Yet, it was so incredibly worth every second of risk, at least to me. Even before I’d decided to use the summoning as a supplement to my police work, I’d always felt a draw, a hunger to see and learn more. Every summoning was an accomplishment, a trial I’d overcome.
As soon as one full moon was over, I’d dive back into my studies and begin preparing for the next. It was almost like an addiction. Perhaps that was part of the talent? The hunger for it? After all, why take the risk, otherwise? If someone were to “design” a summoner, it would sure be useful to make them want to do it.
That was an oddly disturbing thought. I quickly chased it from my head as the demonic lord straightened. Then I could only stare, blinking like an idiot at him.
“What are you—” I clamped my lips shut on what I was about to say and hurriedly reworked it so that I didn’t use up one of my allotted questions. “Your clothing is…um…not your usual, er, style.”
I was accustomed to seeing him in clothing suitedto…well, a Renaissance festival—breeches, flowing shirts, boots, that sort of thing. I’d always assumed that he wore that style of clothing because that’s what demonic lords
wore
in the demon realm.
But…now he had on black jeans that hugged the muscled contours of his legs without looking sprayed on, a crisp tailored shirt so white it nearly made his silver-blond hair look dark in contrast, and a grey jacket that looked like it was some sort of exceedingly expensive silk-wool blend.
And his hair. Holy shit, the hair! His hair had formerly hung to his waist, but now it ended just past his shoulders. Even the normal alabaster hue of his skin looked like it had been replaced with the faintest touch of…a tan?
He looked like an action hero on the red carpet. He looked
hot
—in a completely new and different way from what I was used to. And I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. What game was he playing now? There was no possible way this had been done solely to impress me.
The light from the fireplace bathed his skin in a warm glow. A smile twitched his lips, and his crystal blue eyes found mine. “Smoothly performed, as usual,” he said with approval, and it took me a few seconds of mental floundering to realize he was referring to my summoning technique. Normally I’d have basked in the glow of such a compliment—especially since he never gave empty compliments—but at the moment I
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