Demons and Magic

CHAPTER 1: A Demon is Summoned

It was a particularly dark night; low whistling and the sounds of footsteps pierced through the silence of the second floor corridor as two hooded figures sauntered their way to where a lone sapient gargoyle stood. Alastair, tossing an apple casually into the air and catching it again, gave the password to which the gargoyle slid aside, revealing a set of stone steps behind.

“When is Azazel arriving?” Damien asked from beside her, lowering his hood to reveal a set of tousled sandy hair, and followed her inside the stone chamber.

“Ten minutes,” replied Alastair.

When the door to the grand hall opened, they stepped inside a deeply polished circular room filled with all sorts of magical objects on top of spindle-legged tables. Two angels, both looking all glowy and sh*t, sat on chairs situated directly in front of Beelzebub’s table.

Out of all the princes of hell, he was the only one stubborn enough to actually request an office that resembled those of the humans. He even requested bowls of fruits to be displayed in front of him even though knowing full well he’s not capable of eating.

‘i***t,’ Alastair thought and crossed the foyer to grab a bunch of grapes, tossing her apple to Damien who barely caught it before it could even do any damage to his nose.

“Hello, Alastair,” Castiel, one of the few guardian angels who are actually permitted to walk the pits of hell without getting tripped on his own sandals, called out to her and smiled tauntingly, his eyes not once leaving her face.

Alastair only narrowed her eyes at him as though he were a lightbulb and gave his outfit an incredulous stare. “Why are you wearing a towel?”

“This is not a towel!”

“What’s that, then? A curtain?”

The angel across from him laughed and almost choked on his own tongue, spluttering as he curled over, still red from cackling too hard even though he was wearing the same tunic as the other.

So much for graciousness this is.

“What is going on here?” the voice of Beelzebub rang through the circular room and all five of them turned to him, Alastair’s eyes particularly judging him as he walked inside the room while dragging along a dog that looked more like a sheep.

“What the hell is that?” she managed to say before the sharp end of Damien’s elbow hit her square in the rib.

Beelzebub shot her a stern gaze and carried the dog in his arms, its eyes barely peeking through the white curls on top of its head. “This … is Fifi,” he said dramatically and flipped his robe as he sat down, smiling blandly at the holy goats in front of him. “What are you two doing here?”

The angel from before cleared his throat and sat up, smiling angelically at Beelz. “We came by the orders of the great angel, Michael,” he said with dignity and pride seeping through his golden head and gave the demons around him a look that made him seem like a rookie.

Castiel cleared his throat. “We’re here to make sure that Alastair gets to Earth safe.”

Alastair scoffed and popped a grape in her mouth. “As if.”

The angels shot her a menacing look before smiling back at Beelz who was now immersed in trying to catch the bowl of fruits that were still flying away from his every touch. “Azazel will be here soon. Michael had requested for us to inform you of their leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Beelz dismissed them with a wave and almost dove head first into the floor, trying to catch the bowl that seemed to repel in his every touch.

Castiel just blinked. He doesn’t really know quite what to do in these situations where he was barely given any reaction — in hell’s case, every time.

So, he stood up, cleared his throat even though angels doesn’t need to breathe, and gave Alastair an awkward smile. “Let’s go?” he said through his teeth, and ushered them towards the front door, leaving Beelz to his dog.

Alastair just rolled her eyes at him and started fiddling with a pocket knife she had nicked from the office.

“I will say this again, Alastair, in case you have forgotten. You only have one purpose of being in the mortal realm. It is to bring Lucifer back to where he belongs. Do you understand me?”

Alastair rolled her eyes for the nth time. “Unless you’re speaking German, yes, I understand you.”

“Good. Azazel will take you to the realm of the humans. When you get there, make sure to find Lucifer.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I need you to swear.”

“F*ck.”

Damien and the other angel chuckled silently at this and Castiel stomped his foot on the marble floors, creating echoes that resounded through the walls.

“I meant like a promise. I need you to promise that you’ll look for him.”

“Like I said, yeah … whatever,” she deadpanned in the same monotonous voice and tossed the remainder of her grapes in Damien’s direction, hitting him in the face.

The other angel laughed, and Castiel heaved out a sigh. “This is gonna be a long day.”

When they reached the dock where Azazel would be arriving, bearing his Canoe of Death or whatever name he’s calling it these days, they heard Damien’s sobs as he tried to reach in to give Alastair a hug.

“What the f*ck?” she complained when he had finally latched onto her, his tear-stained cheeks pressed tight against Alastair’s shoulder.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Get off me, you Nimrod. You’re getting tears all over my cloak.”

“Don’t let Uncle Luci smite you in the face.”

“Not if I smite him first.”

Damien nodded in agreement, still bawling his eyes out, and sniffed.

Alastair turned to Castiel, her eyes dull against the shining shimmering splendid that is the angel, and offered her hand for a shake. “Well, it’s been a pleasure having you as a company. But once a millenia is enough for me.”

Castiel just shot her a sarcastic smile, ignoring her hand, before turning his gaze on the empty horizon. “Don’t rejoice, yet, Alastair. I am a guardian angel. I recide in the mortal realm. I will pay you a visit every once in a while to see if you have been doing your duty.”

“Well, sucks,” Alastair snapped and crossed her arms, gazing straight at the dark glow of their sun as she frowned. “Where the f*ck is Azazel anyway?”

“He is late.”

“Oh, no sh*t, Sherlock,” she deadpanned, and Castiel raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sherlock?” He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “My name is Castiel, or have you already forgotten?”

Another roll of the eyes from Alastair and he could barely stop himself from throwing her into the water.

“You’re glowing!” Damien shouted and all three of them scoffed.

“Of course we are glowing,” the other angel whom none of them really care about said and gave him a smug look. “We are angels.”

Alastair just gave him a quick once over. “Tell me, do you sparkle, too?”

It was Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes at her and trailed his gaze on Azazel’s boat that was sailing towards them. “Don’t be silly, Alastair. We’re angels not lamps.”

“I didn’t mean you!” Damien shouted again, cutting them all off, and pointed at the floor where the image of the pentagram had suddenly appeared, glowing bright red.

“Is someone summoning you?” Castiel asked and was about to examine the symbol when it suddenly vanished.

“Sh*t,” Alastair cursed and braised herself as she felt the familiar twisting feeling in her chest. “High schoolers.”

Before anyone could even react, Alastair had already disappeared, leaving nothing but a trail of her sweet scent.

It felt almost like a blur — getting sucked into an endless abyss only to fall for what felt like thirty minutes. There were voices — kids! — chanting a summoning spell that they no doubt found in their high-tech computers and were all calling out her name.

“Stupid featherless bipeds,” Alastair hissed under her breath as she was continuously being sucked into the giant toilet of the universe.

Normally, these summoning spells would take no longer than five minutes before they stop — usually, the whistling of the air, the cold shivers running down their spine, and the whispers of the souls would throw them off and they would go running.

But it would seem like this was a different case.

“Hey, Nathan, come back! We’re about to finish here anyway. Just ten more minutes!” shouted a guy with green hair and stood up, dusting his trousers that were so low you could almost determine the color of his underwear. “Nathan!”

Alastair sighed sharply again, still floating in the midst of complete nothingness, and crossed her arms. “Neanderthals,” she said with a look of sheer disapproval, watching the circle of teenagers as they resumed their ritual without the other guy.

This had actually come out as a surprise. Most days, she would wake up and see a bunch of people summoning demons to do their bidding. But they would either look like they’ve sucked the life out of squids with their dark lipsticks and eyeshadows, or they were just flat out wearing blue capes and pointed hats.

They looked like neither. Sure, they all seemed funky and probably hasn’t even showered for days, but they were at least looking a bit human.

“I command thee … ”

“Oh, great, here it comes.”

“ … to appear.”

Alastair couldn’t even braise herself as she was sucked out of her state of planking ominously in the air like some kind of ridiculous donkey.

For someone as powerful as she is — brought plagues upon entire countries, made storms out of hails, and even defied laws that no being of mortal descent can do — being summoned by a bunch of t****k-dancing and KPOP-singing sixteen year olds is a huge blow in her pride.

She just sighed sharply and closed her eyes, knowing full well that this is gonna be bright.

But as her feet touched the ground and the wind from the open windows brushed her cheeks, she was surprised by the complete silence. She half expected screams and yells as people ran away. But if anything, it was completely silent.

As though she were alone.

And when she opened her eyes … she actually was.

“What on—” Alastair’s rants were cut short when she saw the state of the room she was in. She had a bad memory and oftentimes get things confused along the way, but she was sure that this was not the same room she saw as she was being summoned.

It’s filthy. And although, yeah, the other room was filthy, too, but it at least looked polished and was lit properly.

The room she was in resembled an abandoned mental ward where Ghostbusters flock to do their work. Even Hell looked better than whatever this was. Imagine having to live with all those spoiled food and unwashed laundry without the luxury of an air vent.

“AAHH!” someone yelled from behind her and she whirled around, twirling Beelzebub’s pocket knife between her fingers.

Alastair gave him a bored stare, examining him from head to toe, and raised an eyebrow. “I know you,” she said, more to herself than him, and plopped down on the unmade bed behind her. “You’re that guy at the summoning ritual.”

Nathan blinked at her, slowly catching his breath as he gazed at the empty hallway where two other tenants lived right across him.

He didn’t wanna come out as a wuss, but he would definitely feel a tad better if someone were to back him up in case the girl made any move to stab him in the face. There were many robberies around the area but he doubts she was there for that. After all, what can she get from him apart from his beat-down laptop that was probably older than he is?

“Who are you and what are you doing in here?” Nathan asked her and slowly crossed the foyer, leaving the door open behind him just in case she ran after him.

Alastair stretched her lips into a mirthless smile. “I’m Alastair. You summoned me, remember?”

He froze in his place for a moment. “What?”

“Are you deaf?”

“No. But like … no.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Alastair stood up and Nathan almost tripped on his own two feet as he scrambled away from her and towards the door.

“Come on, is this a prank?” he asked, sounding a little bit pleading, and scanned the room for any signs of people that may be waiting for him to cower in fear so they could all say ‘izzaprank’ in unison.

Welcome to the dumbest generation.

“What’s a prank?” Oh, and there’s another one.

“A prank. Like … a joke,” he tried to explain and swallowed hard, making sure that there’s a huge space for him to run out to in case she turns out to be a serial killer.

Alastair only chuckled, taking a few steps closer to him, and smiled. “A joke? Do I look like a joke to you?”

This was her cue.

With just a flick of her finger, the door closed on its own, startling Nathan who fell on the floor with a thud.

“Please don’t kill me,” he silently pleaded and scampered to get away, partially blinded by the lights that were now turning on and off on its own.

“Oh, trust me,” Alastair said and lifted his face up with her ice-cold fingers. “If I had wanted to kill you … I would’ve done so already.”

“Oh, God.”