Chapter 7: Arabian Night

It took them maybe an hour, but together they were able to come up with a contract that looked pretty solid. At least on paper. There were clauses to account for every eventuality that they could think of, from doing any form of physical harm or inflicting any level of pain or discomfort, to employing psychological tactics to terrorize him. It remained to be seen if the demon would be able to find any loopholes in the document that it could exploit.

Ryan moved over to where his rucksack was lying on the ground, a few books and sundries strewn about nearby, and knelt to collect his equipment. He donned all of the necessary wards and seals, picking up the large, leather-bound copy of the Lesser Key so that he could read the incantations from it. As he made his way back over to the salt summoning circle, he was careful not to disturb the pieces of bark that made up the protective triangle, stepping gingerly into its confines. If even one of those chalk lines was slightly out of place, it might expose him to demonic attack. His armor of wards had to be flawless, as it was the only thing standing between him and hostile entities that could make a meal out of his soul. After his encounter with Vapula, he had learned firsthand that not all demons were as benevolent towards their summoner as Orobas had been.

He looked around, ensuring that the Seirim had all retreated to the border of the forest, out of the line of fire. Ryan couldn’t be sure if one demon would attack another as they would an unprotected mortal, but it was best to take precautions. The last thing he wanted was for something to happen to one of Nahash’s sisters, she would be distraught.

His companion was standing a little closer to the circle, ready to provide assistance if something should go badly wrong.

He took in a deep breath of the cool night air, steeling himself as he opened the heavy book, the light from the moon and stars bright enough to read by. The candles flickered on the breeze, the chirping of crickets the only sound besides the hammering of his heart. He couldn’t stall any longer, it was time to get this shit done.

“Thee I invoke, the Bornless one. Thee that didst create the Earth and the Heavens, thee that didst create the night and the day, thee that didst create the darkness and the light. Thou art Osorronophris, whom no man has seen at any time. Thou art Jäbas, thou art Jäpos, thou hast distinguished between the just and the unjust. Thou didst make the female and the male, thou didst produce the seed and the fruit, thou didst form men to love one another and to hate one another...”

He moved down the page, reading off the incantation as he went. Humans really could adapt to any situation, even these archaic spells were becoming routine to him. He waved his wand as he trudged through the ritual. As before, it took him about thirty minutes to get all the way through it, his voice cracking and his throat sore as he neared the end.

Finally, he reached the phase where he was to address the demon by name and call it into the circle, pointing his makeshift wand into the center of the pentagram as he chanted.

“I Evoke and conjure you Gamori, and being with power armed from your supreme majesty, I thoroughly command you by Beralanensis, Baldachiensis, Paumachae and Apologiae-Sedes and your most powerful princes Genio Liachidi, ministers of your Tartarean seat, chief princes of your seat of Apologia, in your Ninth Region. I exorcise & powerfully command you Gamori in and by him that said your word, and it was done, and by all the holy and most glorious names of the most holy and true God...”

The candles flickered, a sure sign that the entity was responding to his summons. Encouraged, Ryan proceeded with the ritual, wondering what form this one might take. Orobas had appeared as an amorphous blob of churning flesh, Vapula had manifested as a ball of dark feathers, and Haures had emerged from a spitting flame.

As he willed the being to manifest within the circle, some of the beeswax candles blew out. It distracted him, and for a moment he was worried that a wind had choked them, but he couldn’t feel much more than a light breeze. No, this was something else, something magickal.

That same wind blew the grass, making it wave like the surface of an ocean, as if a storm was bearing down on the grove. The skies were clear, however, and he didn’t feel a thing. Was it the triangle? If this anomaly was of demonic origin, then it was possible that he was being shielded from it by the protective wards.

He had to stay focused, this part of the ritual was one of the most sensitive, a perfect time for a demon to exploit his inattentiveness and create an opening. Ignoring the wind, he continued his incantation, waving his wand as he compelled the demon to appear before him.

The next gust blew in what looked like small grains of dirt, yellow in color. No, not dirt, it was sand. There was no sand in the grove, the soil in the forest was muddy and wet. This was definitely Gamori’s doing.

Each new gust of wind brought more sand, piling it up atop the grass in the summoning circle as if the grove had been transported to the edge of some great desert. He almost expected to see dunes rising above the treeline, but he knew that it must be some form of illusion. It just kept piling up until the entire circle was covered, the salt runes now invisible beneath the sandy carpet.

He didn’t think that it would interfere with the ritual, as a demon could not physically destroy or damage the circle itself.

The blowing wind became a churning hurricane, airborne sand whipping through the air at incredible speeds. Ryan reflexively covered his face to protect himself from it, but it wasn’t able to penetrate the triangle, almost as if he was standing inside a glass tube. It was so thick that he could scarcely make out the circle, which was now the eye of a storm, a spiral of sand whirling like a miniature tornado within its confines. It was like a monumental sandstorm had rolled in.

He kept up his chanting, determined not to let the demon distract him from his work.

“Therefore come ye in the name Adonay, Saday, Zebeoth, Adonay, Amiorent, come, come, why delay? Hasten, Adonay, Saday, the king of kings commandeth you! Cease your illusions Gamori, come now into the circle!”

He thrust his wand towards the center of the roiling storm, and the wind abruptly stopped. The howling ceased, the particles of sand that were suspended in the air raining to the grass. The tornado faded, and as the sand fell away, a figure began to emerge. It was difficult to make out at first, but he could see that it had four legs and what looked like two heads. Gamori was described in the grimoires as a beautiful woman, so what was this? Should he compel her to take a humanoid form?

As the sandstorm cleared, he was able to make out more detail. It was not a four-legged creature with two heads, but a giant camel. He had never seen a camel in person before, and so he couldn’t be sure if this one was unnaturally large, but it was at least six feet tall at the shoulder. The beast stood there, watching him with its wet, senseless eyes. It was covered in sand-colored fur, the signature hump that rose from its back obscured beneath a kind of ornate saddle made of what looked like red velvet.

The figure that he had mistaken for a second head was, in fact, the animal’s rider. It was a tall woman clad in a form-fitting, blue gown made of what was likely silk. She was riding side saddle atop the camel, her legs seemingly pressed together inside a tight dress that ended in a frill, almost making her look like a mermaid. She had wide hips and a narrow waist, around which a blue sash or belt was tied, some kind of golden crown dangling from it by a thread. Her neck was long but not unnaturally so, obscured beneath a blue collar that rose all the way to her jawline and adorned with a gold necklace that hung about her shoulders.

As his eyes rose to her face, he saw that she was wearing a turban that was the same color as her clothing, bringing to mind images of Arabian Sultans. There was a golden badge sewn into the fabric just above her forehead, with three white feathers rising from it in an ornate display. Protruding from the folds of her turban were two curled horns, their tips twisted into spirals, much like the symbols that were found in her seal. This was Gamori alright.

Her face was mostly obscured beneath a blue veil, very much reminiscent of those worn by women in ancient Arabia, so that all he could see were her eyes. They were ice blue, adorned with dark eyeliner and a purple shadow that made them stand out strikingly against her pallid skin. Her gaze was so intense, unblinking as she stared at him, waiting silently for him to address her.

The words caught in his throat, and he had to snap himself out of his trance. Her eyes were hypnotic. He wanted to forego a few of the more threatening incantations this time, perhaps the demon would forgive the unflattering accommodations if he showed her some more respect.

“Behold the person of the exorcist who is called Octinomos, in the midst of the exorcism, who is armed by God and without fear, who potently evoked you and called you to appear! I bind you that you remain affably and visibly here before this circle, so constrained and so long as I have occasion for you. Do not to depart without my license until you have faithfully and truly performed my will without any falsity!”

He waited for a response but the demon did not reply, she merely turned her head as she examined her new surroundings. It was so frustrating to know what the demons expected, to know the exact steps that should be taken to ensure that the ritual was performed as faithfully as possible, but to lack the required resources. There was nothing that he could do about it, besides hope that she didn’t take offense and decide to simply eat him.

He heard heavy footsteps on the grass, glancing to his right to see that Nahash had sidled up beside him. She wanted to be closer to him so that she could more easily intervene, perhaps anticipating that Gamori might become violent.

The newly arrived demon finally turned her attention back to Ryan, her blue eyes so intense that he found himself unable to meet her gaze for very long. She was waiting for him to speak.

Ryan cleared his throat, withdrawing the contract that he had tucked into the pages of the book.

“I ... uh ... I have a contract for you.”

“Take charge, Ryan,” Nahash whispered. She was right, he was the summoner, he had to maintain control over the situation. He had invoked Gamori, and she was here to serve him, no matter how intimidating she seemed. While Vapula had simply been physically imposing, Gamori was giving him a weird vibe. He felt like he was standing on the other side of the glass looking in on Hannibal Lecter’s cell. He composed himself and began to read from the document.

“Gamori, I have summoned you here because I have great need of your abilities. There have been several attempts on my life, and I am being hunted by the demon Haures. I beseech you, please use your powers of prescience to tell me who is doing this, and why.”

He waited for her to respond, but she merely stared at him with those piercing eyes. Was she even capable of speech? He continued on.

“In exchange for your services, I ... in the situation that I presently find myself, I can only offer you ... sexual energy. Will this be acceptable?”

His face burned with shame as the creature looked him up and down, scrutinizing him. Despite the fact that she hadn’t uttered so much as a word, she conveyed so much emotion through her eyes. They were so expressive, her disdain apparent as she examined him. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask are you serious?

“I’m trapped within the confines of this grove,” he explained, gesturing to the forest around him. “If I set foot beyond this clearing I will be immediately killed. Without knowing who wants me dead and why they’re doing this, I cannot leave.”

She stared at him for a moment, then gave him a slow nod.

“Do you think she understands me?” Ryan asked, addressing the question to Nahash. The Seirim shrugged her shoulders.

“It appears so. Read out the rest of your contract and see how she responds.”

Ryan went down the list of clauses, significantly longer and more specific than the contract that he had made with Vapula. He didn’t want to be exposed to the same dangers a second time, and so together he and Nahash had included clauses about everything that they could think of. It was important to be obsessively precise. Demons were like evil lawyers, wickedly intelligent and prone to finding loopholes or twisting the wording to best suit their ends. As a result, he felt like he was reading aloud a license agreement.

The most important clauses were those ensuring his safety. They had been very specific about bodily harm and what constituted it. There would be no biting or scratching this time, no superficial injuries of any kind. He also knew that demons liked to play psychological games with mortals and so he had made sure to specify that terrorizing him through harrowing visions or waking nightmares was also prohibited. The demon was to extract the resources that she required and then leave promptly.

When he was done, he looked up at Gamori, the demon still perched atop her camel. Her steed, and calling it noble would not have been fitting, merely stared at him with its glassy eyes as a white foam dripped from its meaty lips. It was not a very attractive animal.

“So ... do we have a deal?”

Gamori seemed to think for a moment, then she nodded her head, the feathers on her silken turban bobbing with the motion.

“And you agree to all of the conditions?”

Another nod. Ryan should have been relieved, but the worst was yet to come. He wasn’t sure how she was going to communicate what he wanted to know without speaking, but she must have a means to do so, or she would not have agreed to the contract. Ryan wasn’t sure what happened to demons who breached their contracts or failed to complete them, but the entities treated such things with the utmost seriousness and diligence.

Gamori closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she concentrated on something. Was it beginning? Was she using her powers to tell of all things past, present and to come as described in the grimoires?

The sand that was piled beneath the camel’s feet began to shift, as if blown by the breeze, until once again it was whipping through the air in a dense cloud. This time it was confined to the circle, however, its nine-foot radius allowing for a substantial plume to form that rose high into the sky. As he watched, spaces began to form in the opaque mass of swirling grains, like it was crumbling away. It was incongruent with how fast the tornado was spinning, and yet it was happening all the same.

He narrowed his eyes, the sand taking on new shapes, almost like it was forming sculptures. To his amazement, a man’s face began to form. It started off as featureless as a department store mannequin, the details carving out in real-time, the excess sand falling to the ground beneath it as it hovered in the air. A nose, eyes, lips. The sand formed furrows on the person’s brow, wrinkles around their eyes, a prominent nose and a bushy beard. As it grew ever more refined and distinct, Ryan was able to make out the man’s face, the grains of sand so small that they allowed for an incredible amount of detail. It was like a three-dimensional photograph or a computer model.

He was old, perhaps in his late sixties or early seventies, his face weather-beaten and leathery. There was no color, just the yellow of the sand, but Ryan imagined that the man’s long beard would be peppered with silver hairs.

Beneath the floating head appeared a line of shapes, the sand morphing and twisting into worm-like tubes. He saw a G, and then an R, the sand was forming text.

Grand Master Reginald Carlisle.

What did that mean? What was a Grand Master? Was it a magician’s rank, or maybe a judge? It wasn’t enough information to go on.

“I don’t know him,” Ryan explained to Nahash, “I’ve never seen this man before in my life. What could he possibly want with me?”

The face crumbled away, caving in on itself and falling to the ground in a pile along with the letters. The mound of sand began to move, smoothing out until it had formed a disk atop the grass about as large as a dining table. A figure rose from its surface, humanoid, like characters in a videogame rendered with voxels. The person’s features were left blank, and he was kneeling on the floor. Some of the sand fell away, creating a ring with a pentagram in the center on the ground before him, a representation of a summoning circle. It was a summoner.

A second figure appeared beside him, rising from the ground, this one differently shaped. It had digitigrade legs that ended in hooves, spiky horns protruding from its head, an hourglass figure with an ample chest ... it was a Seirim.

Was this supposed to be Ryan and Nahash? The two figures waited beside the circle, the human kneeling and the Seirim watching until something began to emerge from the center of the pentagram. Ryan recognized it as the immense head and shoulders came into view, the curled horns of a ram giving it away.

“Azazel,” Ryan muttered. “Look Nahash. That’s you,” he said as he pointed towards the moving sculpture, “and that’s supposed to be me. We’re summoning Azazel.”

The beast rose to full height, towering over the two figures, and then it unfurled a pair of leathery wings. It flapped them, rising away from the circle, dissipating into the churning cloud. The meaning was obvious enough. This Carlisle, whoever he was, was trying to kill Ryan because he had awoken Azazel.

He had always known that there must be other summoners, logic dictated that he couldn’t be the only one. Hell, he had originally come across the knowledge on an internet forum, it was widespread enough that there must be dozens or even hundreds of people out there who had been curious enough to see if there was any merit to it. The knowledge must be available in other places too, it had to have originated somewhere.

The sand shifted, more figures appearing, half a dozen summoners performing rituals before their own respective circles. Still more people walked in from the edge of the disk, these ones clasping tubes in their hands. No, not tubes, those were guns. They aimed them at the summoners, killing them one by one, their heads exploding into clouds of sand as they fell to the floor.

“They’re killing all of the summoners,” Nahash muttered, watching the scene intently with her ovine eyes. “This is organized, they’re not only coming after you.”

“I’m certain that Azazel has something to do with it,” Ryan added, “or Gamori wouldn’t have shown it to us. Maybe that put me at the top of their hit list, whoever these people are.”

“The important question is what can we do about it?” Nahash said. Ryan turned his attention back to Gamori, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Can you tell me where Carlisle is?”

The sand began to morph and change again, this time rising from the ground to form a floating ball, like video footage being played in reverse. This time, rather than forming a face, continents began to appear across its surface.

“It’s a globe,” he gasped, watching as the sphere began to rotate. He could make out all of the landmasses, watching North and South America pass by until Antarctica was facing him. It then began to zoom in, flattening out as it did so, like a satellite view rendered entirely in sand. The camera moved down towards the Southern tip of the frozen continent, blowing up until he could see a small island. On the island was a mountain, rising towards him from the barren landscape, the crater in its peak giving it away as a volcano.

Why was she showing him an Antarctic volcano? He had expected his assailant to be in the same state as he was, if not the same city. How else would they have been able to infiltrate the local police forces and emergency services?

The view zoomed in even further until all that he could see was sand, which he assumed represented snow. Was he now staring at the slopes of the mountain? There wasn’t enough detail to be sure. Suddenly much the sand fell to the floor, leaving only a network of what looked like random, interconnected tubes hanging in the air. Was Gamori trying to write something again? It just looked like random scribbles to Ryan.

More zooming, this time homing in on a section of tube. The near wall fell away, revealing a cross-section of the interior, which Ryan saw to be artificial in nature. The floors were flat, there were doors leading off into side tunnels, and there were figures walking about.

“It’s a hidden base,” he muttered, Nahash turning her head to look down at him in confusion.

“What?”

“I know what she’s showing us. This is where Carlisle is, he’s inside a network of tunnels beneath a volcano in Antarctica. What the hell ... these tunnels are massive. Imagine the money and manpower that it would take to set up an operation like that...”

“What does that mean for us?” Nahash asked. She was well versed in the occult, in arcane secrets, but she didn’t know much about the modern world beyond what Ryan had begun to show her.

“It means we’re fucked,” he replied, laughing bitterly. “This is an organization, international, swimming in money and resources no doubt. We’ve really pissed off some powerful people. They have to be military, maybe it’s some kind of CIA black site, those guys are always messing with weird shit like astral projection and mind control. Or maybe it’s the Illuminati, some kind of global conspiracy that has a monopoly on summoning. Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it. Look at this place,” he sighed as he leaned closer to examine the winding passages. “We’d need an army just to get in there, and that’s if we could even reach it. Antarctica is one of the most remote and inhospitable places on the planet. We can’t just buy a plane ticket.”

“We only need to eliminate one person,” Nahash said, planting her hands on her wide hips as she joined him in scrutinizing the tunnels. “The most pressing danger is Haures, and the only way to stop him is to annul his contract with this Carlisle person. If we kill Carlisle, then Haures no longer has any reason to come after you.”

“But it’s not just Carlisle,” Ryan replied, “this is an organization that kills summoners. I’m not a Watcher or a Nephilim, I’m not a demon, I’m just ... some guy. All it takes to permanently kill me is an especially hard punch. Even if Haures is out of the picture, there’s still an army of corrupt cops out for my blood, and whoever else might be on their payroll. Just who the hell are these people?”

Gamori saw fit to answer his question, more letters and shapes forming from the sand to create a new word.

“Freemasons?” Ryan asked, his brow furrowing as he examined the floating text.

“Do you know what that is?” Nahash asked.

“It rings a bell,” he replied. “I must have heard them mentioned in passing, or maybe read about them somewhere, they’re some kind of secret organization I think. I thought it was just a conspiracy theory. Great, so the New World Order has it out for me...”

He sat abruptly in the triangle, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. He came across a leaf that was tangled in it, fumbling with it as he struggled to pull it free. His frustration coming to a head and he crumpled it up, throwing it as hard as he could, the leaf fluttering to the grass almost as if it was mocking him. Tears of anger welled in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his knees, staring at his shoes.

“That’s enough Gamori,” he mumbled, “I have what I need.”

The sand once again fell to the grass in a heap, the spinning hurricane slowing until he could make out the demon as she sat atop her camel. She watched him curiously, seeming interested by his outburst. Nahash no doubt sensed his emotions, but she elected to leave him alone, letting him work through it.

“You know what the most fucked up part about all of this is?” he asked, Nahash shaking her head. “I just wanted a fucking job. That’s all I wanted. I should have just swallowed my pride and got a gig flipping burgers. Now I’m going to get black-bagged by some kind of ... Bohemian Grove motherfuckers.”

She gave him a minute to compose himself, then crouched beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He closed his hand over hers, squeezing it.

“I didn’t mean that,” he muttered. “If I had never summoned Orobas then I never would have met you. I just ... figured I’d live a lot longer than this.”

“Then the choice has been made for you.”

He looked up at her, drying his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“What do you mean?”

“If you believe that your death is inevitable then you are free to act. Failure has the same outcome as doing nothing, and so there is no reason not to try. You cannot just live in the grove for the rest of your days, the magick of the Seirim is finite. We would not be able to keep you fed for very long.”

“So ... what? You think I should go out in a blaze of glory?”

“I think you should try to find a solution,” she said, “you have nothing more to lose. You are more creative than you give yourself credit for, Ryan, and you have more than a little luck on your side. The fact that you’re here at all is proof of that.”

Ryan rose to his feet, brushing himself off, a little ashamed of his lapse in composure. Her words had calmed him down a little, and the spark of hope encouraged him, as faint as it might be.

“Alright, so what do we do?”

“We scour the Lesser Key,” she replied, “we see if we can find a creative solution to our problem.”

“More demons?” he complained, grimacing. “I feel like we’re really pushing our luck now. Eventually, we’re going to come across one that doesn’t take our kind of payment.”

“As I said, there’s no choice.”

“Alright, alright. So we find a demon who can get us inside that base, right on top of Carlisle. Then we take him out, which gets Haures off our back. Then what?”

He was startled by the braying of Gamori’s camel, almost stumbling out of the protective triangle. The demon was glaring at him from her perch, her arms crossed over her chest, her hands hidden beneath her long sleeves.

“Payment is due,” Nahash said ominously.

“Maybe it will he better this time?” Ryan asked hesitantly, but the Seirim didn’t reply.

Gamori had fulfilled her side of the bargain, and now it was up to Ryan to provide the entity with the energy that she had been promised. He was still sore from his encounter with Vapula, and while the majority of his superficial cuts and bruises had healed, she had still milked him for all he was worth. He wasn’t even sure that he had anything left to give the demon.

What if he couldn’t perform, what if his tank was empty? Would a violation of the contract on his part result in the creature taking what he owed through other means?

He left the safety of the triangle, walking slowly towards Gamori. She looked down on him from atop her camel, regal and aloof, cocking her head slightly as he came to a stop beside the great beast. He waited for her to give him instructions, to make her move, but she merely observed him as he stood before her looking dejected.

“Take what is owed,” he finally said, bracing himself for whatever might come next. He felt so small and insignificant next to the demon, powerless, her intense stare quickening his heart. After leaving him to stew for a few moments, she leaned down, reaching out towards him. Her long sleeve fell away to reveal an ostensibly human hand, with pale, almost grey skin and sharp fingernails painted the same blue as her garments. She cupped his face in her palm, turning it first to the left, then to the right as she examined him.

He felt like he was at a slave auction, about to be sold off like livestock. Was she going to check that he had all of his teeth too?

“Will you not speak to me?” he asked. “Can you speak at all?”

She merely smiled at him with her eyes. She was so pretty, stunning even, in an odd and kind of uncomfortable way. He glanced over his shoulder at Nahash nervously, but Gamori turned his head back to face her. Why was she just staring at him? Wasn’t she going to ... do anything with him?

His heart skipped a beat every time she batted her long, dark lashes, his face reddening as he averted his eyes from her piercing gaze. If things got out of hand, Nahash would step in and help him again, right? They had included a clause in the contract that let the Seirim assist him if he so desired, but she seemed to be keeping her distance for the moment.

Gamori released him, returning her hand to her lap, leaving him standing confused on the grass. Was he not to her liking?

His eyes were drawn to the ground, where a kind of blue mist was beginning to emerge between the blades of grass. It looked like colored smoke or a dry ice machine, the haze hanging low over the sandy summoning circle and growing thicker as he watched. Before very long it was opaque, like he was standing ankle-deep in water, both the grass and the sand now obscured beneath the fog.