Based on the prompt: “Your character desperately needs money.”
The scents of sage and rosemary wafted through the basement, masking dust and mold. Kerry Stratton hugged great-grandmother’s book to his chest, ashamed of his foolishness.
This is a stupid idea. You know it.
Muted sounds of faith-healing preachers and miracle cure infomercials filtered down from the upstairs television, echoes of the no-less desperate path that Anne, his wife. had taken.
Just do it. What have you got to lose?
Emily. You’re going to lose Emily.
So he got to work. All around him objects of his folly sat in silence, as if mocking his efforts. A white candle. A black mirror. A bell. An altar of lead and a vessel of bronze. Incense burned its sweet-herb smell as he drew the protective circle in chalk.
“By this circle, I create a sacred space. A boundary of protection and power. No harm shall enter here.”
This is foolish. You’re just talking to thin air.
Think about Emily.
Circle drawn. Sigil drawn. Candle lit. He held the mirror in his hands and spoke the words written so many hundreds of years ago, scribed in the tome that had been passed down through his family for centuries.
“Orobas, I call upon you to appear before me. Show yourself in this mirror and grant me your wisdom. By the power of truth and loyalty, Orobas, I call you here to me. Guide my mind with clarity and might, grant me favor and protection this night.”
Okay. There. You’ve done it. And there’s nothing, see? There’s nobody out there. Now you can put that fantasy away and go back to mourning your daughter like a sane person.
A cold wind blew in the basement. The sweet incense turned acrid, and the lightbulb went out. He was no longer alone.
The figure of a man with a horse’s head stood in the darkness, outlined by heat. The chalk lines of the sigil and protective circle shone pale as if silver, reflecting off his ebony form. His eyes burned like fire, swirling pools of umbral inferno. The demon spoke with a soft voice that resonated within the soul, echoing deeper inside than the listener’s heart.
“Kerry Stratton. I am Orobas, Great Prince of Hell. Twenty legions of demons await my command. What would you have me do?”
Fear gave way to desperate need and Stratton fell on his knees, the tears he had suppressed beforehand now flowing freely.
“Please,” he sobbed. “It’s Emily. My daughter.”
“Your young daughter has a rare, painful form of cancer,” Orobas said as he took a single step forward, approaching the border of the circle but not crossing it. “There is but one treatment available. One experimental treatment.”
Stratton nodded and the horse-headed demon knelt, fiery eyes looking into his own.
“But your insurance has denied you, and you cannot afford the cure. A shame. Society’s true sin. Have you called me to ask for money, Kerry Stratton?”
Still speechless, his heart caught in his throat, he could do nothing else but nod.
“Your ancestors once called upon me for riches, wisdom, and fame beyond even your mortal dreams, Kerry Stratton. Do you wish to do the same?”
“I don’t have any other options,” he found his voice at last. “I didn’t think you were real. I didn’t–”
“Do you wish for my assistance, Kerry Stratton?”
“Yes!”
“What price will you pay for my assistance, Kerry Stratton?”
No! Don’t do it! What if he asks for blood? For your soul? For Emily’s soul?
But Emily’s voice came to him, a memory louder than all his protests.
Daddy, I’m sick. Help me, Daddy. Make the pain go away, Daddy. Please.
“Any price. Please, for my daughter. Any price.”
Orobas’s lips turned up in a smile. “Then it shall be done, Kerry Stratton. Your daughter shall be healed on this very day. You shall never have to fear for money again. Rejoice, for your sorrow has turned to joy.”
“What’s the price?”
“The price, my dear Kerry Stratton?”
“What’s the price?” he asked. “What do I have to give you for you to do this for me?”
Orobas leaned closer, his face was mere inches from Stratton’s – separated only by the width of a chalk line, and whispered a request into his ear.
“Break the circle of chalk. Set me free.”
No! Don’t do it! What do you think will happen when he’s free? He’s a demon from Hell! Do you think he’ll be nice?
“I will not harm you, Kerry Stratton,” Orobas said, as if reading Stratton’s thoughts. “I will not harm your wife. I will not harm Emily. Your fears are unfounded.”
“The book said you wouldn’t harm or tempt me,” Stratton stammered. “It said you don’t twist wishes or do cruel things like that.”
“The book speaks truth.”
“But how can I trust you?”
“My dear Kerry Stratton, why would I want to harm you? You summoned me into this place. I daresay you are my friend.”
“But–”
“In fact, Kerry Stratton, I would be greatly indebted to you. Obliged to grant further favors for you and your family, as a kindness.”
“The book said you wouldn’t tempt me!”
Orobas grinned. “You have already called me by name, Kerry Stratton. Why would I need to tempt you to further evil? I only wish to give you what you want. You and Anne, and your dear Emily, of course.”
Don’t do it!
“Whatever we want?”
“Whatever you want.”
Don’t!
After one final moment’s hesitation, Stratton erased part of the chalk circle. Orobas, now freed, stepped out of the design and rested a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Kerry Stratton, tell me what it is you most desire. I will grant you everything.”
“Everything?”
“You never have to worry again.”
“Never?”
“I will give you anything you want. Anything at all.”
Peace washed over Kerry Stratton, soon to be replaced with excitement as new possibilities echoed within his mind.
Anything I want.
Anything at all.