“What are we doing out here again?”

“Stealing a goat.”

#72 was currently sitting on a nearby fence post, as I hid in a bush. Night had settled upon Dalton, making the stars the only light I had to guide me in the agricultural town. In my hands was my pillow, two eyeholes having been cut with a nail clipper. If I wasn’t already grounded, destroying this would definitely have made sure I was. Now it would just extend my stay.

In front of me was a farm. It was the opposite of an unusual sight, yet this one was special. It was the only one that was corporately owned. Every other farmer in the village was an independent contractor but this one. It was therefore the only one I could justify stealing from. I looked at my prey once more, the horned herd grassing in the distance. They were the animals closest to the barn.

“Can you scout for humans?” I asked #72. “Can’t do much in prison.”

“Sure,” she said amenably. She had been a lot more helpful ever since she figured out I was her ticket to freedom. She flew upwards, her crimson form creating no shadow beneath the star light. Convenient. She performed a couple of circles before going back down.

“No one here,” she reported. Excellent. I started drawing the circle in the earth beneath me. It was a very simple one, suitable for a beginner spell. A ‘+’ sign with forked ends. I made sure to draw it deep, not wanting it to be gone by the time I returned. I finished quickly, though my fingers were rather dirty now. I turned to #72 once more.

“Fly up, warn me if anyone comes.” She gave a determined nod, which was all I needed. I threw my hoodie over the top of the wired fence, before jumping up and grabbing the fence where the cloth covered. I pulled myself up, thanking my dad inwardly for making me go to boxing, despite my earlier wishes just to stay inside and read. I pulled myself over easily, before dropping to the ground. I started sneaking for the goats, before hearing the barking of dogs. God dammit #72.

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” she defended herself, as she sank down, probably to warn me off the dogs.

“you asked me to look for humans!”

“Whatever,” I replied annoyed. Think, Jacob, Think. These are probably actual defense dogs, not the ones made for herding you find on the other farms. That means the goats are in their own enclosure, so the dogs don’t attack them. I sprinted for the goats, propelled by the thought of safety, all thoughts of subterfuge forgotten. Right now, the dogs were only small, black dots, but they were growing fast. I needed a way to slow them down.

“hey 72?” I asked nervously. “You don’t have any ideas, do you?”

“can’t you just blast them? You’re a warlock, right?”

I was about to tell her that I didn’t know how, when a sharp whistle rung out. The dogs, who were now mere meters away, froze. The gates of the barn opened, mere meters from my goal. A man walked outside, having hidden inside.

It was Anthony, wearing that grin of his. In his hand, hanging from one of its hind legs, was a kid, causing the goats in the enclosure to stir. The male charged the fence repeatedly, while the mother tried to call her child to her.

“Why, little warlock,” he told me scoldingly. “if you needed something, you could have just asked. Why do you think I bought this farm in the first place?”

#71 appeared from the barn, same as Anthony. He was wearing a smug smile, causing #72 to growl in anger.

Anthony walked over to me, making me freeze in fear, his towering form leaving deep footprints behind him. When he was right in front of me, I had to look straight up to see his face.

“Here,” he said as he reached the small goat out towards me, causing it to flail around. “Let’s see this ritual.”

My body started moving, unable to disobey him. I redrew the spell mechanically, the soft ground providing a much better canvas. He watched intently with each stroke I made, clearly incredibly fascinated by my amateur magic. I finished quickly, before taking the goat from his hands, still not in full control of my body. I had not though to bring something sharp with me, so I used the nail clipper to stab into its jugular vein. As its blood ran down and flooded the grooves in the earth, I finished the spell. “Sinnd Skjylda.”

I could feel my magic opening, like icy water pumping through my body, all coming from a giant reservoir in my heart. It rushed to my head, making it feel as if it was being hammered with a giant, cold rock, the pain causing me to lose my footing, only to find a hand holding me up. Anthony had caught me. Then it was over, as quickly as it started. Anthony testily lit his eyes, only to find he was receiving nothing.

“Excellent. Magnificent. Absolutely singular!” He said, growing more enthusiastic with each addition.

“You’re perfect! Oh, I can’t wait for my lord to walk this world once more! Can you feel it, #71?”

“Certainly sir,” came the gravelly response, turning his grin to me.

“It’s almost here!” Elaborated Anthony. “Lord Belphegor will walk this world once more, and you will be the bridge on which he comes!” Then his excitement died down slightly.

“But first you must grow stronger. Your magic is great, no doubt.” It is? “But you have little in the way of control. These lines are sloppy and uneven. You were lucky the spell even activated, and it only did so because of the sheer amount of power you poured into it. This won’t do at all.”

He seemed to mull the problem over for a bit, before snapping his fingers, as if a great realization had suddenly struck him.

“School!” he exclaimed excitedly. “What is school for, but learning? From now on, I will teach you more about magic doing school hours. Be sure to bring the tome!”

Yay.

“Oh, before I forget. #72, could you be a darling and come here for a second?” She did so, despite clearly struggling with everything she had, her will no match for his. He opened his hand and faced the palm upwards, making it so that she could land on it. She did so, only to combust into flames, her screams deep and guttural. She melted slowly, unable to even move without the say so from Anthony. She finally died, causing him to turn up the heat, turning her into ash, which blew away in the wind.

“See you tomorrow!” he said cheerfully before leaving. #71 flew over to me once more, but he made sure to keep his distance. I was still not sure what had happened, my mind reeling to catch up. I opened my mouth several times, just to close it again. Finally, I said something.

“71?” I asked. “Please show me the way home.”

***

It was still dark when I returned home. I tried to sneak in, when the light turned on, revealing my parents watching tv. My dad turned his head around and looked at me with anger, though it quickly dissipated when he saw my eyes. I fell to my knees right there, just across the doorstep. They saw me kneeling there, covered in blood and dirt, with eyes that were empty, seemingly staring at nothing. I felt my mom’s hands caress me, before my dad wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up, my fifteen-year-old body proving no challenge for his heavy arms. I cried silently as he bore me, taking me towards the bathroom. My mother ran me a bath, as my dad sat with me in his arms, holding me as I shed quiet tears.

“What happened, champ?”

Silence was the only answer I gave.

“Is it your blood?”

I shook my head.

“Is it someone’s blood?”

I shook my head once more. My mother’s light brown eyes closed in relief.

“why don’t you get that washed off, sweetie. We’ll be right outside,” said my mother, before leaving the room. My dad gave my arm a squeeze, before putting me down and following her. I sat on the floor for a while, just feeling the heating in the floor wash away my misery. Then I mustered enough willpower to get up, ripping off my clothes. I barely got into the tub, before I lost my ability to move once more, just lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness.

I woke with a stir, the water having turned lukewarm. Something Anthony had said had struck a chord within my mind. “Your magic is great” he had said. He chose me. If he is trying to summon his ‘lord’, which he needs a warlock for, why would I be chosen. There must be more experienced warlocks out there. What did he call his master? Belphegor. I jumped from my bath, wiping myself dry as quickly as humanly possible. I put on a robe that hung nearby, clearly meant for my father, judging by its excessive size. I opened the door quickly, but quietly. Outside the door, leant up against the door, slept my father. I went over and gave him a hug, waking him. He smiled slightly at the embrace. I held unto him for a moment, before letting go.

“Up and at ‘em, ey champ?” He asked me groggily. “You need anything?”

“I’m okay. Thanks dad.”

“Alright,” he seemed worried, but as he looked me over it slowly dissipated. “if you’re sure. Why don’t you stay home tomorrow? I’ll call and let your teacher know that you’re sick.”

I gave him a nod. He gave me a warm smile in return.

“Welp,” he said as he got up. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow, Jake. I’m here if you want to talk.”

“see you tomorrow, dad.”

As soon as he left me, I hastily moved to my room, where I found #71 waiting for me. I gave him the bird as I walked in, which he responded with a sheepish smile. I headed straight for the tome, but he intercepted me.

“Anthony said no reading without him.”

I walked right through him, causing him to turn into red mist. I picked up the book as he gathered himself, looking nervous. I opened it on the glossary page, looking for a specific chapter.

“Chapter 148: Tiers of infernals.”

“The tiers of infernals is your most adamant tool in choosing who to deal with. It details both how much magic is required towards each specific summoning, as well as an in-depth guide to the strengths and weaknesses of the individual species of demon, as well as the 72 princes. I have chosen to exclude demons of tier three and lower, since there are literally too many to count. You should also only need to contract one of them if you need a stable changed or something. Not even sure I would trust them with that, actually.

The only exceptions to this rule would be demons capable of growth, chief of which are the Begaerene and Sjaelbinderer. These are respectively 3rd and 2nd tier demons, but have easily satisfied goals for growth, resulting in their domination of the 6th tier. They only need a few hundred humans to go from the 3rd to the 4th tier, though it rises exponentially from there.”

I skimmed through the pages quickly, looking for the one specific name. When I shifted between the 7th and the 8th tier, I read something that caught my attention.

“notice: from the 8th tier and above, the needed power grows exponentially, but in return, the following infernals are many times more powerful. Also, don’t try to summon me. I included the information simply for my professional pride. I’ll kill you for wasting my time, I swear. I guarantee you that I’m doing something more interesting than speaking to a warlock right now. That said, to summon something from the higher tiers, simply draw a circle of salt to contain them, then place the needed sacrifices in it. Once you have, name the being three times. Everything above 7th tier is unique, and therefore named.”

I continued to shift through the pages, until I found him. Belphegor. He was a 10th tier demon, one of seven, and the king of sloth. To summon him, I needed an absurd amount of magical power and sacrifices. But Anthony was sure I could do it, and he must have known that there was no supplementing raw power. On the other hand, he definitely doesn’t have this list, otherwise I doubt he wouldn’t have needed to give me the book. So, if I assume that the power needed to summon Belphegor is my absolute maximum power, then I simply need to find something in the book that costs the same as that, but without the sacrifices.

71 was buzzing nervously around me, clearly uncomfortable with being unable to read the words. He had probably not warned Anthony about the familiar spell, considering his continued existence. Still, I would need to mask what I was doing. I need a spell with, if not common, then ritual ingredients that can be used for more kinds of summonings. Unsurprisingly, the most normal thing I can find is human sacrifices. Virgins especially. There was one 9th tier being, Ascalon, that only required a single sacrifice, combined with a metric ton of magical power. But magical power I had in spades.

It was an incredibly tempting offer, but I wasn’t desperate enough to sacrifice my fellow man. Not yet, anyway. The only being that didn’t require human offerings of some kind and had enough power to actually get me and my family out of here alive, was a 6th tier species called a “Chupacabra,” though the amount of goat’s blood I would need would be no easy task.

But, in the words of Anthony Goodman: I’m in no rush.