"Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear," I intoned the saying as if I was speaking a sacred incantation.
I spoke the words into the cool darkness of the small room. The candles stationed strategically throughout the space flickered as hot energy crackled through the air. A nervous grin slipped across my lips as a figure began to materialize in the center of my pentagram.
I watched in fear-tinged excitement as my Visitor seemed to take a moment to collect himself. My grandmother's Book of Shadows said that he was called Mitrik. He was a vengeance demon of sorts. He granted women the power to gain revenge over their enemies, big and small. He fed off the blood sacrifice each of his "clients" offered. I fidgeted, trying to ignore the doubt and fear niggling at me.
I stood at the edge of the pentagram etched into the wooden floorboards. My breath leaked out as Mitrik looked up, and I found myself drowning in his icy blue gaze. His eyes bore into me relentlessly. I felt myself weaken as the force behind his gaze brought me to my knees. Our positions reversed, I found myself looking up at his lithe, tall form, my heart thumping painfully. His hair was so blond it was nearly white. That, along with his sharp blue eyes, had me categorizing him as Nordic. His face was all sharp angles. His shoulders were wide and his waist slim. He wore tight dark jeans and a black t-shirt. I couldn't help but appreciate how attractive he was.
"You rang," his voice sliced through the silence. A sardonic smile touched his lips. His voice was full of dark promise. I blushed inexplicably as a trembling began deep inside of me.
"Yea-," I began but my voice cracked and faltered. I cleared my throat and tried to speak again. "Yes... yes, I summoned you," I kicked myself mentally as my voice squeaked a bit. I was summoning demons but I sounded like Mickey Mouse.
"So, enlighten me," he continued, as he stretched within the confines of my circle, "what would an innocent, little girl like you want with a big Bad Meanie like me?" He was mocking me. He poked his foot along the boundary of my power. I smiled confidently, knowing he couldn't get out until I was ready for him.
"It's simple," I responded, trying to sound bold but nonchalant. "It's the quest for power that led me to summon you, Mitrik," I spoke his name like a holy utterance, and he looked at me sharply as the word left my lips. He masked the strange look that had crossed his features, and reclaimed the smirk that had painted his lips moments earlier.
"Power?" He chuckled darkly. "The little lamb wants a taste of that sweet, seductive stuff we call power. She wants to be a lion, does she?" his shoe scraped across the edge of the circle and the magick I had stored in my pentagram flared within me. Startled, I went to refortify the boundaries I had created. Mitrik exhaled sharply as the magick I was releasing went straight into his core. I had played right into his hands. He opened his eyes and smiled darkly at me.