Day Of The Demon

“Sitri! I beseech thee! Come forth!”

In the dark basement of a rickety old wooden house on a forested ridge somewhere in a small university town in New England, there’s a pentagram painted on the floor.

A woman in her early twenties stands beside the pentacle. She’s a college student, a perky little tomboy with a cheeky smile and a mop of short dark hair. She wears a tight black wool sweater and knee-length red skirt. Her name is Meg.

On the ground beside her sits the Ass Goetia, a huge, ancient, dusty leatherbound tome from the 17th century. Meg stole it last night from the sealed section of the Upknott College library, where she’s enrolled in one of America’s top occult history programs. As an undergrad, she’s not even supposed to know it exists.

“Sitri!” she commands, holding a black candle high in the air. “Great Prince of Hell! Ruler of sixty legions! He who lays bare that which was concealed! By the law of Sheba, I have bound you! Reveal yourself, and become my ****!”

She’s done a great job. Measured out every rune and glyph in the pentagram. Recited the litany exactly as the book describes it. Covered every little detail of the ancient ritual which binds you to faithfully and obediently serve a mortal.

Almost.

The candle should be red, not black. You added that little error to the Ass Goetia when that coven of Bavarian witches was writing it four centuries ago. Got a lot of mileage out of it over the years. Of course, there’s no reason to let her know right away.

You clear your throat, and step forward from the other side of the veil into the mortal world.

Meg gasps. You don’t blame her.

You’re a tall, slim, incredibly handsome man in a black suit, with sharp cheekbones, designer stubble, a warm inviting smile and the faintest hint of cruelty in your dark eyes. It suits you to adopt mortal fashions. Only your leopardskin-patterned tie hints at your true form.

“How can I help you?”

“Oh my god. It worked. It actually worked. Wait, are you pranking me? Am I being pranked right now?”

“You wanted to summon a demon, right?”

“Yes, but… but… demons are real? Actually truly real?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“What about, like… science?”

“People have believed in demons for thousands of years,” you point out, waiting patiently inside the pentagram with your arms crossed. This one’s going to be fun. “Why do you think you’re smarter than everyone else in history up until this exact moment?”

“I… don’t know, I guess.” says Meg. “This was just an experiment, I didn’t think anything was really going to happen… wait, wait, hang on a second. Are you really my ****?”

“You summoned me, didn’t you?”

“So… you have to do my bidding?”

“That’s what it says in the book.” It also says that, when dealing with demons, you have to pay very close attention to the exact literal meanings of the words they use. But Meg clearly didn’t read that part. She’s already lost in a world of feverish imaginings, wondering just what she can use her newfound and entirely unexpected dark occult powers for.

“Um…” she says.

“Yes?”

“What, like, exactly can you do?”

“Oh, all kinds of things. But can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

“Why did you choose to summon me? There’s seventy-one other demons in the book.”

“Well… uh…”

“Yes?”

“Is it… um… is it true what it says about you in the book?”

“Which part?”

“The part where it… um… describes your powers?”

“Which powers?”

“Where it… uh… it says you can… um… make women dance naked,” said Meg. You make eye contact, a polite grin on your face, enjoying the way she squirms and glances at the ground as she’s **** to admit exactly what she summoned you for. “Is that… uh…”

“I can do that, yes.”

“Really? Any woman?”

“I can do a lot more than that.”

“It says you, uh… it says you’re the demon in charge of… stripping women of their pride,” says Meg. “Chastening the vain. Bringing the haughty low. Magicians summon you when they want **** on some arrogant lady who’s scorned them.”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“It seems sort of… I mean, why specifically women?”

“Don’t ask me, ask God. Religion’s always been like this. I should know. I was there when Eve first realised she was naked. You should have seen the look on her face!”

“But…”

“Anyway, you summoned me. Do you want ****? Or is this just for fun? Magicians don’t always need motivation to play practical jokes.”