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Another day of being summoned, I hate being summoned. I prefer to spend time alone and avoid summoning duty, but I have to get paid somehow. I say the usual scripted response to being summoned “Human, now that you’ve summoned me know that all I do comes at a price, this ranges from your precious earthly possessions and your soul, do you agree to these terms?”. At this point humans usually back off realizing that summoning is a terrible idea and I get sent back to hell, but to my surprise she actually agreed. “Very well human, what is it that you wish, what you want will determine the price”. She responded with the strangest request I ever heard “what will it cost to have you hang out with me?”. I was stunned, a human wanted to hang out with a demon. “Human, you summoned me, on of the most powerful demons in hell, just to hang out?”. Also yes I am one of the most powerful demons, I have to do something in my solitude, so I just build up my power. “Yes” I stared at her with a confused look on my face, “very well human, if this is your wish, seeing as how it is minor I will be taking 1 week of life from your soul”. “So what do you humans do for fun”, “I typically just watch t.v.”, “also you don’t have to call me human, my name is Emily, what’s yours”. This was strange, for the first time in 500 years someone wanted to know my name. “I am known as Ebinoth, but my friends, if I had any would call me eb”. “Wait, you don’t have friends?” Emily asked that question with suprise. “Unlike most demons, instead of hanging out around earth disqised as humans causing mayhem, I just spend my time in hell alone growing my power or playing with my hell hound.”. “What’s it like being a demon?”. “Emily, why are you so interested in demons?” “I’ve been interested in demons ever since I was a little, I get dreams of being in a fiery place, I assume hell, and I always look up to see a demon who looked like you crying”. When I heard this my mind started racing, what she described wasn’t hell it was me holding the dead body of my wife in the last holy war, in which the only survivor, was me. No one should have memory of that, in less they got reincarnated, but the only being that can reincarnate demons is god.

Part 2?

The youth pulled his hood down even further, shielding his eyes from the two smug, athletic teens in front of him.
He laughed quietly to himself, clutching his arm closer to his body, "Stay back," he murmered in nervous laughter.
His books lay scattered on the floor around him.

The boys in front of him gave each other a look.
One held out a hand and flicked the hooded boy on the forehead, "Or what, Melvin?" said the other.

The hooded boy named Melvin leaned away, clutching his arm, "I cannot hold this evil at bay much longer," he groaned, teeth clenched, "Begone. My right arm pulses with hellfire."

The teens rolled their eyes, but then the bell rang and they had to leave, shoving Melvin into the lockers as a goodbye.

Pressed with his back against the lockers, Melvin allowed himself to slide to the floor. His shoes squeaking as he did so.
Once the bullies had rounded the corner, he sighed in relief.

He winced and rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie. Strange lines danced along the surface of his skin.
It didn't look like much at all, until the lines re-organized themselves and formed a circle -- a summoning one.

With a wave of heat akin to those first steps outside a cooled supermarket on a hot day, an entity broke away from the pattern on his arm and manifested before him in the hallway -- arms folded.

In truth, the demon before him didn't seem much older than Melvin was.
The demon wore tattered jeans, a striped shirt, a denim jacket, and a scowl.
If it wasn't for the red skin, horns, and a fashion sense 20-years out-of-date, he almost seemed like any other student.

"Hellfire," said the demon, in a ill-fitting posh, british accent, "I do not understand why you don't let me burn them to cinders."
The demon swept a hand in the general direction the bullies had gone, "They are destined for hell regardless," he barked, "I'm doing them a favour. Speeding them along!"

Melvin sat on the cold tiles of the school hallway, staring up at Demian, the devil, with a tired smile.
"It's alright," said Melvin, trying to get back up, then slapping a hand on Demian's shoulder, "Anything new? You kept watch, right?"

Melvin had tasked Demian with checking out various location with suspected otherwordly activity during the night and early morning.
Demian sighed, "Nothing much," he replied, waving a dismissive hand, "A handful of specters have shown in town."
He was getting ready to say more, but paused, then blinked, "Don't alter the subject at hand. You have to stand up for yourself."

Melvin was busy picking up the various books that had been swatted to the floor earlier.
He picked one up, stared at the cover for a moment, and then looked at Demian, "And do what?"

Demian shot him a look of pure confusion, "My good man," replied Demian matter-of-factly, "Fire and brimstone, of course."

"Can't just go murdering people, Demian," replied Melvin, picking up the last of the books and sliding it into his backpack.

It seemed like a perfectly rational thing to do to the demon.
Demian inhaled sharply through his nose, "Melvin," he said calmly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're never going to get any proper friends with those around. You're radioactive."

"Radioactive?" said Melvin as he hoisted his bag over his shoulders.

Demian waved his hand in small circles in front of him, "You know," he said, "People are afraid to be your friend, because---."
He paused, shaking his head, "Look, it doesn't matter," he said, "You're never going to have proper friends like this, okay?"

"But I got you, right?" said Melvin as he checked his watch. He was already late.

The demon shot him a thin-lipped smile, "Melvin, you're paying me to be your friend."
"Your soul is burning down like a candle as we speak," he explained. It was part of their contract.

Melvin stared at his feet for a moment, then looked up, "That's alright," he said, "I don't think I'm cut out for a long life anyway."
He began to hurry towards the class he was already late for, then turned near the end of the hallway, waving goodbye, "We still on to play League of Legends after school, right?"

Demian gave him a curt wave, "Yeah, sure," he shouted, his face fixed with guilt.
"But I want to use the computer," he added, "The laptop has terrible FPS."

Smoke midnight black and oily filled the every corner of the room. A sickly sweet scent, to the point of acridity and stinging to the nostrils, invaded the senses. Four pairs of eyes, bright and with a strange unearthly beauty shone silvery and white from behind the smog, and a voice like distant thunder began echoing in liminal spaces in her mind she could not fully comprehend.

“Raphael was my counterpart when Lucifer, God’s first and magnificent one, was banished to the lower planes for his pride against the Father. “

The entity paused, gentle sounds of roiling smoke, and a lone bell tolling in some unseen space. The bell and the silence was all she could focus on. Would she lose control? She’d heard stories of people, magicians, who’d been consumed and thrown into the proverbial waves when they didn’t have the proper bindings. Her mind raced to stay focused on the ritual. She would succeed.

The voice seeped through phantom cracks in the air itself, hissing like boiling water and cracking glass,

“With his fall, the rest of us followed, whether it was our will or not. My Kin. Belphazor, Azazel, Beelzebub, Mammon. You know our names. Written in places where the eyes of mortals dart to sense our presence as if a mere word on a page might upheave their life. Fret not, your sigils and evocations are sufficient. I see my brother Raphael’s name here, and I am bound by his presence. Gracious is the father, and better triflings have we than to be so enamored with mortal’s frankly completely incorrect feverish dreaming of us. Though the truth would crush your mortal mind, the truth would not set your spirit at unease.”

The talking smoke continued, the eyes in the smoke squinted and looked distant, as if recalling something so bygone and emotionally wracked as if it the event in question which struck it had just happened.

“I remember the skies that day. Witnessed the clouds and pleroma Itself weeping. She who would be called Sophia, and the mask that the Morning Star would come to wear under the name Demiurge. The heartbreak of the Shekhinah. Echoes of that time and the shattering of the Egg into infinite story, beyond time itself, linger in the other realms. Scattered across infinity they play like memories, incomprehensible visions to the mortal children of the Most High. Yet some glimpse the truth. Some see passed the veil and into their true nature in this world my kin and I were cast. But truth is not my station. You already know me well.”

The being paused, and the room grew even thicker with its fog, tendrils and plumes of smoke billowing, threatening to consume her.

“You mortals run by lies. Lies you tell yourself to ease the pain of life. Lies you tend like torturous gardens in an effort to keep yourself for seeing how meager and pathetic you can truly sink to be. Lies you tell that shape events beyond your control.

And it was a lie that brought me to this earthly plane, here with you now. You reek of deception, and it amuses me. Speak your petition and let us be termed to agreeable compensations.”

The smoke settled, and the billowing of the black miasma calmed, all eyes focusing on the now, collapsed on the floor, magician.

She collected herself and stood up, trying her best not to tremble, and to speak with authority, she pointed to the lamen on her chest,

“By the Authority of the Most High, I command thee to keep me company. And as compensation, I will offer you a single glass of wine.”

She’d seen the eyes of friends and lovers with laughter in them before. There was a rage behind the jollity. Inhuman, an amalgam of emotions so pure and present they confused her outright that they could be shown so truly and in harmony with eachother. Maybe this was a part of the threshold beyond humanity, she wondered.

“Would I have your oath that I would be safe if I asked a being like you to spend time with me, listen, and just…hang out?”

There was silence for a time, and the being spoke again

“You drew the holy diagrams, focused your will, drew up on the name of the Most High and called the mighty Raphael to an accord to ask the being known as Asmodeus, the Lord of Lies, to ‘hang out’ with you.”

She couldn’t hear laughter, but some unholy compression was trying to throw her into gut-laughing. She breathed deep and spoke,

“My will is my own. I know your station, and know you can speak only lies. So I will ask…”

A gulp wormed it’s way down her clenched throat. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck was she thinking?

“Will you hang out with me? I’m lonely. And all the angels just kind of give advice and keep their distance. This is what I need.”

She could feel it in the air like electricity. A curiosity and amusement sprang from the smoke entity that called itself Asmodeus.

It spoke.

“Were you in my place, the Lord of the throne of Lies; what promise or oath would ever be sufficient? If one always expects a lie, what could you ever say that would satisfy them?”

She began to sweat. The reasoning that led her to this moment began to blur. Why had she chosen this, what was she really after? She could have called up one of her friends, Mark, Sam, anyone. As a matter of fact, in her reading she had read that Uriel was this Demons correspondence, not…

Panic set in. Dread and sheer panic, hotter than any sun, colder than any polar wind.

She grabbed for the tome beside her, fingering about the floor in haste, looking for the safety of the wisdom of magicians before her, not wanting to take her eyes off the now roiling and billowing smoke.

It would only be a moment. She darted her eyes to look for the book, to secure her peace, only to see its form pish and unfetter into black smoke, returning like vaccuumed air back to the mass of smog before her.

“I suppose in some ways, I am still granting your desire, little mage.”

A cackling like the sparking of dying embers filled the room. The laughter shook her to her bones. She stared back at the smog cloud and those silvery brilliant white eyes. She couldn’t focus. That muscle like will was so fatigued, drained. The sweat that soaked her clothes was ice cold. She couldn’t move. Her vision was being swallowed up by the smoke.

Darkness and a single voice.

“The road to audience with the greatest liar of all will itself be a lie. A lie to ensnare the liar. Remember this is what you asked for, it’s the only truth you have now.”

She couldn’t feel her body, her senses were absent, all there was, was a single dot of light beyond the fog whispering some incomprehensible language.

One word was uttered in this eternal silence.

“Uriel.”

A blinding light split the eternal night, and a great shining figure of a winged man, robbed in copper and Green, hands stained with soil, wearing a crown of laurels appeared before her

She felt a slamming sensation from above her, very much like the feeling of falling and waking up before a deeper sleep.

“Forgive us.”

The kind voice chuckled, like water dripping onto plants bathed in sunlight.

“Ages ago we thought it would be humorous for the Lord of Lies to be caught in a lie of his own. The book you received and taught yourself the ritual from was one of ours, penned by a mage born ages ago from Scotland.”

She could breath! Even more than that, she felt better than she had in ages. Period cramps are a bitch to do ritualistic work with, but she only felt pleasant. More than pleasant.

The angel continued.

“Think of it as a prank, if you’d like,”

His eyes were so kind.

“We gave him permission years ago to possess the Scottish mage, telling him that it was part of the greater plan that it happen. ‘God works in mysterious ways’ and all.”

The angel smiled ear to ear and continued,

“Well, it was of course a ruse. Metatron filled out some false paperwork, and the mage was just writing what he thought was best. Me, Michael, and Jophiel showed up to play our part to convince Asmodeus it was really happening.”

Uriel was trying to surpress his own laughter and couldn’t contain himself.

“Man! 1500 years in the making! You played your part brilliantly, mage!”

No mask hung on her face but complete confusion.

“There was never any danger. Just a bit of fun.”

She was gobsmacked. Awestruck. Silent.

Uriel continued,

“The nature of being a demon to humankind can get very droll for them, interacting with humans can get very grating.”

The angel pantomimed commanding motions,

“Grant me this, make them fall in love with me, give me a mansion- “

He ceased pantomiming.

“And so on. It’s like a nine to five desk job for them. The Father cares they have fun too, so we get to play with them occasionally.”

He stood next to her,

“I mean, what better prank than the lord of lies being lied to be beings that can’t lie? We had to BEG the Father, but he eventually caved. Big Guy loves a good joke.”

She started crying and huffing, trying to steady her breath.

He paused and took her hands into his own, gently caressing them. She found it impossible to rationalize. She felt balanced. Satisfied. Casually joyful and at ease. Not a lingering negativity about a thing, and certainly not a hint of fear.

The angels face softened and he spoke so gently he could have spoken with secret languages only wind and flowers know.

“I heard you were lonely, Abbey.”

Pure love radiated from his being so brilliantly it was like standing next to the brightest star in the sky.

“What would you like to do first?”

FIN

I would very much like a part 2

[deleted]

[Poem] "What do you want? Revenge? To torture someone? To murder a couple people?"

"Can you just hold me?" The kid asks with tears in his eyes.

"Oh. Okay..." He crawls in my arms and I don't know what to do.

He cries himself to sleep

The portal cracked the very fabric of reality, splintered the concept of spacetime, and burned a small black singe onto the delicate curtains.

I stepped forth into the realm of Man, burning the flooring under my hoofs. The smell of melting vinyl made me gag with demonic pleasure.

"WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?" I declared, scanning the small room for the warlock or wizard that had...

"Oh, that would be me, dear." A soft voice called from the corner.

I turned to see an old woman, who I had mistaken for a pile of blankets originally. This must have been some witch, disguising herself as an elderly woman for some pleasantly nefarious reason.

"WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU WISH, WITCH?" I snarled, slinging spittle across the room. Tiny holes burned through whatever my satanic saliva touched.

"I wanted to share some pictures of my grandchildren." She said, patting an album on her lap. "They just went trick-or-treating, and my daughter mailed me some photos of their costumes."

I stormed across the room, scraping my horns along the ceiling as I did. I stopped when I was almost touching her outermost lap blanket.

"AND YOU WISH TO KNOW WHAT PRICE THEIR SOULS WOULD-"

The woman shook her head, which curiously had no affect on her hair. "Oh no, I was just proud of them."

She opened the album to the last page, revealing a smiling family of four celebrating my most holy of holidays. "See? Timmy here was a cowboy, and little Jessica was a fairy!"

I squinted at the images. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND, MORTAL. WHY DID YOU SUMMON ME?"

"Well, I didn't really feel up to going down to the cafeteria with the album." She said, turning the page. "I have a hard time carrying things and using my walker at the same time. My son in law offered to build a basket for the handles here, but just between you and me, he's not very good at making things, bless his heart."

I tilted my head, driving a horn through the ceiling above us. The woman's expression didn't change as she was showered with ceiling debris.

"YOU RISK YOUR MORTAL SOUL TO CONVERSE WITH A DEMON... FOR THIS?" I asked, bewildered.

"MARGARET!" A voice shouted from above. "You're going to pay to fix my floors, do you hear me?"

I pointed a finger above me. A jet of hellfire erupted from my claws, sending a pillar of the fires of creation through the ceiling.

The complaining ceased.

"This is my daughter holding Jessica when she was born." The woman said, flipping to the next page. "They had to use a surrogate, thats why she's standing so soon afterwards. The poor girl lost her uterus to cancer shortly after-"

"YOU HAVE NO ADDITIONAL MOTIVATION? NO BLOOD PACT, NO SCHEME OR PLOT OR NEFARIOUS INTENTS?" I asked, ignoring the fire alarm that now blared around us.

"Oh heavens no!" She said, clutching a necklace of pearls around her neck. "I would never want someone to get hurt on my account, Jesus willing."

I lurched backwards, struck with pain by the mention of that name. "DO NOT SPEAK THE NAME ALOUD!" I growled, clutching my ears with both of my claws.

"Lord forgive me, I didn't mean to cause any harm!" She said. "Do you need medical attention? I can push my first aid button here, it brings up an ambulance from Saint Peter's Hospital down-"

I staggered back, clutching my chest. "PLEASE! CEASE YOUR INFERNAL WORDS!" I begged.

The woman pulled a small black box from her jacket, and pressed a large red and white button.

"This is Mary with Saint Peter's Medical, do you need assistance?"

I screamed, shattering all of the glass within my sight. "IT HURTS! STOP!" I cried, reaching behind me to the portal still crackling in the air.

"I hear you, we have dispatched an ambulance to your location. Please remain on the line, I will walk you through this." The voice from the box said. "Do you have anyone you'd like for us to contact on your behalf?"

The woman perked up. "Oh, yes! Could you ask Father O'Malley if he received my-"

I turned, and leapt through the portal, sealing it behind me. I found myself surrounded by concerned faces, baring their fangs in sympathy.

"Demon hunter?" Beelzebub asked, skittering towards me on his many feet.

I shook my head. "I don't know what that......THING was."

The demon looked at the closed portal, then snapped an order at the lesser demons. "Seal the portal, and cast it into the pit. We shall allow no more of our brethren to be harmed by this warrior."

I curled into a ball as the minions got to work, and sobbed.

/r/SlightlyColdStories for more