Dragging herself back up onto the couch, Katia dropped the book into Sergei’s lap. “Found it.”
Sergei opened the enormous volume to the table of contents, sliding his finger down the entries, easily reading the obscure language as though it was a pulp fiction novel he’d just picked up from the drug store. Shaking her head, Katia wondered if anything in her life would ever be normal again. Snatching a pen and paper off the side table to his left, Sergei began to make notations, listing all of the items he required to perform the ritual. The group watched him in silence for several minutes. Suddenly, a cell phone alarm began to go off, jerking everyone out of their thoughts. Hands frantically reached into pockets, pulling out a small army of smart phones.
“Sorry, that’s me.” Amir said, unlocking his phone and turning off the screeching alarm.
With a disgusted look on his face, B turned toward Amir. “What the hell man? Who sets their alarm for six o’clock in the morning? That’s an unholy time to be getting up.”
Rolling his eyes, Amir stuffed his phone back into his coat pocket. “Listen, bud, some of us have jobs to get to in the morning.”
“Highly overrated,” B said dismissively.
“Lazy jackass,” Amir shot back at him with a teasing smile. No matter how flippant or crass B seemed to get, you couldn't help but like him.
Clearing his throat loudly to cut through the conversation, Sergei held up his hastily scrawled list to the group. “I need a few things if I’m going to do this. Hopefully between the bunch of you, we’ll be covered.”
“Shoot. What do you need from us?” Luc said, urgency evident in his voice.
Looking over his list again quickly, Sergei nodded and looked back up at Luc. “You’re fallen angels. But he’s not, am I right?” He said, pointing at Amir.
Nodding, Luc replied, “Right, he’s a demon.”
“That's what I thought. Would he be willing to donate some blood for the ritual?” Sergei asked.
“Oh, for Sheol’s sake!” Amir spat out in annoyance. “He’s right here! Why don’t you ask him directly? Or do you have a problem with demons, witch?”
Sergei took a deep breath and looked Amir in the eye. “No, I don’t have a problem with demons. I figured you might have a problem with me. My people have quite the history of summoning and enslaving demons.”
Irritation subsiding, Amir nodded slowly. “Makes sense, but it’s the farthest thing from anyone’s mind right now, so let’s get on with it. Yes, I’ll give you some blood.”
Luc nodded to Amir in appreciation. “Thanks, man.”
“Thank you.” Came Katia’s quiet voice from across the room. “You all have no real reason to help me, so thank you for this.”
The four men across the room fidgeted uncomfortably at Katia’s thanks, as though it was something they were no longer accustomed to receiving. Even Sergei looked slightly uncomfortable, as though his omission of truth overruled his right to receive gratitude for his current actions. Clearing his throat again, Sergei broke the tension by explaining the ritual. “Goetic magic is all about maintaining a balance — just like everything else, action and reaction, dark and light. Summoning spells require sacrifice. The blood is the sacrifice but, to keep the balance, we need a sacrifice of both dark and light. The demon blood is the dark, so I’ll also need blood from the light…an angel, or in this case a fallen angel should work.”
Luc shuffled his feet uncomfortably, warring emotions flickered across his face. Every eye in the room was locked on him expectantly. Katia looked at him with hope in her eyes, something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on fluttered like a butterfly in her gut. His eyes settled on her face and he nodded slowly. “I’m in.”
Rising to his feet, Sergei went to a large wooden cabinet against the far wall. Reaching into the collar of his shirt, he removed a chain with a large metal key from around his neck. Fitting the key into the antique lock, Sergei opened the cabinet, revealing an assortment of stoppered glass bottles that contained a variety of powders and herbs. The two bottom shelves were virtually empty, save a few books. This was clearly where he had stored the grimoires.
Removing a bottle from the top shelf, along with a mortar, pestle and a silver dagger, Sergei placed the items on the coffee table and knelt down. He removed the stopper and shook some of the powder into the mortar, replaced the stopper, and set it back on the table. Taking the silver dagger in his right hand and raising his left above the bowl, Sergei closed his eyes briefly. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and sliced into his palm, allowing the blood to flow freely, mixing with the powder.
Luc stepped toward him holding out a linen napkin he had found sitting in a pile on the buffet. Nodding his thanks, Sergei wrapped his hand, wiping the blood-coated blade against the material to clean it as best he could. Sergei held out the knife. Amir stepped forward and repeated the same process, allowing his blood to mix with the contents of the bowl. Turning toward Luc, Amir held out the dagger hilt first. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Luc reached out and grabbed it. He knelt down in front of the table, raising his left hand above the mortar, dagger pressed against his palm. The tip of
