Chapter 2
Circles of Summoning and Demonic Sigils
Grace
With the laundry running, condoms and paraphernalia swept up, and trash taken outside, besides the wiping and dusting, there’s only one more big task to take care of.
You see, renting a lake house like my parents’ isn’t without insurance.
Any renter willing to pay the nightly rate to stay here also must sign a legal agreement that they will cover the cost of any damage to the property, or items inside, that might happen during their stay—magical or otherwise.
So, if the red stain doesn’t come out of the carpet, it won’t be my parents who will pay for it.
It’ll be deducted from the renter’s credit card that’s temporarily on file.
Sure, my parents have “lost” things over time but that’s the downside of renting out your property.
Dad just laughs and calls himself a masochist. Someday I hope to have the same humor he has, the kind that only kindles after a long life of ups and downs.
I just need a big up-up first before a big down… at least, another one.
I plug the steam cleaner into the outlet and roll the bulky machine toward the circle.
Though the sweet smell remains, there’s far less of it, overpowered now by the crisp noon air coming off the lake.
There are enough fluffy white clouds in the sky to keep the temperature perfectly temperate—a common brag of those who live or vacation at the lake during the summer.
Leaning down to turn on the steam cleaner, I flick the switch and gird my loins, then drive it straight into the circle.
Releasing the water from the machine, the hum of it fills my ears as a clean lemony scent wafts up, replacing the rest of the cloying sweetness quickly.
The red paint bleeds and spreads as the carpet soaks and I run the machine back and forth.
My parents came into their wealth before I was born, and sometimes I wish I’d known them before they had it. All my life I’ve been grilled to appreciate everything I have, what I’ve been given, and I do, fiercely, but it’s hard knowing I’ll probably never be remotely as successful as they are.
My mom knew who she was before she hit puberty.
From the time she was just a kid, she stayed awake all night, asleep all day, always wanting to be under the moonlight.
As for my dad, he was the son of a disgraced politician who moved to Cobbin Lake to get out of the limelight.
The day they met, they fell in love, or so they’ve told me.
Mom’s magic grew and she rose up in the leadership of her coven, and Dad started his own business.
They’re still at both to this day, even though they’re technically supposed to be retired.
My eyes water and I reach up to swipe them with the back of my hand.
It doesn’t help though, and when they water some more, I stop the machine and rub my sleeve over them, blinking the wetness out, thinking I must be crying.
It’s like that on occasion—sneaks up on me out of nowhere, a heavy, hopeless feeling that needs to work itself out through tears.
Wanting to get this over with, I try to stop only to realize I’m not crying at all. Something else must be wrong. Maybe the chemicals from the steam cleaner irritating my eyes?
With my left sleeve now soaked, I wipe them with my right as I head for the bathroom. But just as I reach the faded boundary of the summoning circle, an awful itch forms in the back of my nose and the uncontrollable need to sneeze overwhelms me.
I stumble backward several steps from the force of it, and water drains from my eyes as I scrub viciously at them with my shirt. Heading for the bathroom again, another sneeze overcomes me, and I find myself back inside the circle.
At least I think I’m back in the circle. I can barely open my eyes to look around.
Just as I’m about to focus on something through the blurry, stinging tears, an even more violent sneeze overtakes me, making my stomach wrench and my body bend forward, yet it still drives me backward.
“What the…!” I sneeze again.
Blinking rapidly, I pull my shirt off to mop up my face.
This time I approach the outer edge of the circle slowly, sweat beading down my brow, my body racked from the sneezes.
My bare feet shimmy through the faintest edges of the red, where the water has spread out the most, and just as my toes touch the diffused border, I feel a prickling in the back of my nose.
I take a quick step back.
“Help me—” comes a deep, rumbling voice from somewhere behind me.
I spin around. Wildly patting my eyes dry, I make out a large dark form on the floor in-between blinks.
I throw myself backward only to end up violently sneezing my way forward again, toward it.
“What the hell!” Suddenly angry and over everything, I turn on the man—body—thing—that I can’t see because the excessive salty tears won’t let me.
“I don’t know if this is your idea of a joke but screw you for putting pepper spray in the air! Who are you? What are you doing here—”
“Stooop shouting,” the man grunts up at me. Just as I’m about to get a clear look at his face and why he seems so oddly shaped, my eyes cascade like a waterfall. I release a cry of frustration.
“I—Stop shouting?” I demand. “I’m trapped! And I can’t see you! My eyes…” My shirt’s soaked and—shit! I stumble back and turn around to throw my shirt on. “Who are you!?”
“That circle is not meant for your kind. It is meant for mine,” the voice explains. “The sigils you’ve broken are now wet. That is why your body is reacting against you.”
I hear his words but panic and logical sense battle over what’s going on. Pulling my hands away from my eyes, I brandish them in front of me to warn him back. “Your kind?”
I couldn’t have summoned him.
“Yes, my kind. Shouldn’t you know this? I’m here because of you. But… help me and I may answer more of your questions.”
“How do I help you? And I sure as hell didn’t summon you!
” I’m not that kind of witch—I’m not even a witch!
—let alone have that kind of power. I squint, trying to get a good look at him again, but the water only obscures things further.
I feel wet from my shins down, but I push the odd sensation away as a side effect of whatever is happening here.
Freezing, I hesitate, realizing if he’s speaking the truth, then he’s a…
“Demon,” I whisper under my breath, my hands back at my eyes to try and clear them.
“I do not know what you speak of, human, but I am not whom you think you are referring to. I am going to die without your help. I need water!”
“Die?” Demons don’t die. “Who are you then? Why can’t I leave the circle?” I swipe my face furiously, feeling my skin become increasingly raw. “How are you dying?” God, I hear my mom’s voice coming out of me. “Why the hell won’t my eyes stop?!”
“Help me first,” he demands.
“Help you? I can’t even help myself!” I drop my hands again.
Screw this. I turn and charge out of the circle.
My foot is barely hovering over the reddest part of the remaining outline when I’m launched straight back into the middle. This time the sneeze overtakes me midway, and as I try to catch my body from falling to the ground, something swoops in front and around me. The demon!
Grabbing me, he hauls me down upon him and cushions my fall. I’m too overcome by shock to react at first, but the smell of something wet yet… enticing, touched by the lemon carpet wash, hits me, making my entire body squirm inward. Feeling a strange, unknown man’s naked body against mine…
He’s definitely not a man.
Men don’t have tails.
Caught between what I think is his torso and the tail, I blink the water from my eyes, frantically using my hands to push off and away from him. “Let me go! Let me go!” What is he!?
“Please, I need your help.” His voice is softer than before, abruptly dark and luxurious sounding, throwing me off guard. “I do not aim to harm you. I believe we are both… confused by my being here.”
“Then remove your big slimy fishtail thing and release me!” Because whatever has me is wet and silky, his body smooth, slick, and velvety under mine. The water from my eyes drips on him, all over my hands, adding to the wetness, and I slip pushing off of him.
He lets out a grunt when I land on something hard and bulging.
The tail lets me go and I lurch back on my hands and crawl away. Putting as much distance between us as possible, I swear I see a grin on his face before my eyes are overtaken by more tears.
“You are released. Now that I have given you what you wanted, you must give me what I want in return.”
“And what is that? I never agreed to that,” I blurt out before thinking, scared and deeply regretful that I texted Mom I didn’t need her help to clean the house.
I’m on my own in this until I can find a way to get out of the remnants of the summoning circle.
“Never mind you’re dying and I’m trapped, how can I possibly help you? ”
“That’s right, I’m dyyyying.”
Rubbing my sore eyes, I try for another look at him once more, to no avail. Frustrated, I run my teeth across my lower lip and pull it in. “I don’t care either way. If I help you, what do I get if we’re talking exchanges? My freedom?”
“That’s better. You’re getting it, little witch. I like that. I like you. Everything should always be an exchange. It’s funner that way, I think. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m indifferent,” I snap.
“Is that so?”