“Agh!”

The ancient tome’s pages fluttered as it skittered across the weathered floorboards. A woman with ink-stained hands grimaced as she ran them through dark, frazzled hair. She sighed and slumped to the floor, narrowly avoiding the small, delicate white line that encompassed her work.

The crisp, thin lines were easy to miss at first due to the stark difference between the bold, black-inked runes that covered the rest of the floor. Once you got a good look, though, it was hard to miss the power radiating from the salt line.

“What good is all the chanting if nothing is going to show?”

The Summoner tilted her head to the side, stared at the failed circle, and huffed. With her knees bent and arms draped over them, she laid her head against the wall and scrutinized her work. Might as well pick apart the failure now to have a better version for the future.

Her eyes traced the black lines curving the circle. The runes that danced inward to the center, telling a story for those who could understand its shape. It was beauty in all the senses, even those of the magical kind. She got lost in the seduction every time. Each curl of a rune sliding against her magic like water across the skin. Every downstroke like a caress of a lover down her spine. It was an intimate magic that was left unspoken between those who practiced it.

A noise to her side snapped her out of the trance. The Summoner stood, disbelief marring her face at the unbelievable scene. The first was that a very powerful humanoid demon was crouched down in her summoning circle. He was entirely naked. The second was that her ostentatious, yet completely unable to function with two brain cells of a cat, was licking at the salt line.

“Winston! No.”

She scrambled to try to catch him but the orange tuxedo cat scampered into the circle and up into the demon’s arms. The demon stood with the cat and a smug grin like he had caught a canary.

“I do believe that this is an acceptable offering, young human.”

“My cat is not up for offering or sacrifice, you brute. Now give him back. He may be a pain in my ass and dumb as a brick at times, but he’s my most beloved family member.”

The demon clicked his tongue and looked down at the cat in his arms. “You hear that, Winny? You are a right pain in her ass. You better be good, or she might offer you up for sacrifice for real the next time. Fine. You can have him back.”

The demon set the cat back down over the line and crossed his arms over his chest. The Summoner stared at him in surprise.

“You truly just gave him back?”

“Well, yes, he wasn’t the offering, which is exactly why your summonings are failing. You new Summoners are not being taught right.” He rolled his eyes. “You will not get any answers if you don’t offer something in return. Quid Pro Quo, you know?”

“That’s not in any of the books?” She furrowed her brow and tried to recall her texts that she had gone through over the years of her training. The demon threw his head back and let out a deep-bellied laugh.

“Of course they wouldn’t! It’s meant to be passed down from mentor to mentee. It’s what keeps the practice close, so that not everyone or anyone can practice. Didn’t your mentor ever teach you?”

“No,” she whispered. “She died when I was a child. Protecting me.”

The demon studied her for a while. It went on long enough that Winston meowed at her angrily before stalking off, his tail lashing back and forth. She could see the demon smirking at the cat from the corner of her eye and continued to ignore him.

She didn’t know what to say after that declaration. How was she supposed to follow up after that? What was she supposed to talk to a demon about? She’d never had a successful summoning and was surprised that the magic had lasted as long as it had.

“What is your name, Summoner? I think that with this we’d best be on good terms if you were to summon me.”

At that, she looked up at him. He was still naked, and it bothered her, but she ignored it the best she could.

“Summon you?”

He hummed. “Yes, I will make you a deal. You use my name in the chants to Summon me. Allow me the freedom to roam and play with your cat, and eat some food. In return, I will teach you what your mentor was meant to have taught you.”

“Arla,” the name came tumbling out before she could stop it.

“Such a pretty name. You may call me Rey’vik.”

She tried a few times, and he had to correct her before she got it right. By the time she got it right, she was standing right in front of him.

“Good, that is acceptable. Now, please release me so that I can return home to dinner.”

“Ah, sorry.” Arla flushed at the implied interruption.

“Don’t be. I was merely going to eat dinner and was preparing. I look forward to your Summons, Arla. Do have a proper meal for me the next time?”

Arla could only watch in fear as his long tail curled over the small gap in the salt line where Winston had licked it clean. A chill ran straight through her. He could have walked out of the circle at any point in time, but chose not to.

The spade tip of his tail traced down the side of her jaw before tilting her chin just enough so her eyes could meet his amber gaze. Her breath caught. The tip of his tail brushed lightly over her lips as he spoke.

“I like my meals a bit… salty.”

He chuckled darkly before disappearing completely. Arla gasped as the air around her lifted and the magic changed. Winston meowed at her feet, and she glared down at him.

“This is all your fault, lintlicker.”