My name’s Wilfred Tennamont and I am a warlock. I thought I should probably put that out there, right upfront. I’m not a wizard, I’m not a mage, and I’m not your fucking fairy godfather. What I do is painful, ruthless, and often quite mean spirited. I deal with demons on a daily basis, and those are some of my more polite meetings. If you ever meet me, chances are you’ve hit rock bottom and the only thing you’ve got left to give is your battered and bruised soul. Well, guess what? I’m buying.

I could make all your dreams come true. Come into my office and by the end of the day you could be smoking a joint made from a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill whilst a supermodel fucks you into next week. Think that sounds pretty sweet for the price of one little soul? If you do, then congratulations, you’re an idiot.

See, everyone likes to talk about their soul but no one really has a clue what it is. Well, allow me to brush away the cobwebs of ignorance and spill the beans. Your soul is a power plant. What does it power? Creativity, emotion, desire. You name it. Everything that makes you who you are is given light by the energy of your soul. It’s the way to more power than you can ever imagine, but most people are only too eager to sign theirs over for a few million bucks and a blowjob from their high school sweetheart.

What do I do with it once it’s mine? Well, since I’m a stand-up guy, the first thing I do is let you rent back most of it. This is mainly because if I didn’t then you’d turn into a completely emotionless husk on the spot, and I don’t want your fat ass littering my office. The magic I work tricks your soul into thinking you’re more than you are. It puts it through its paces, and when that bad boy starts overproducing its energy for you then I just skim off the excess. Well, that’s if I like you. Most of my contracts are made from deals like this, but as you might imagine I tend to come across some bad apples in my line of work.

If I find you to be particularly despicable then you get what I’ve come to call the VIP treatment. Instead of trimming away that excess power, I’ll slowly let all that energy build and build right before I drain it all away at once. It’s a week-long process during which you’ll inevitably sink into a grim fit of prolonged depression before wrapping your neck up in a noose.

So the blowjob that supermodel gives you in exchange for the core of your anima had better be a pretty damn good one.

Having said that, it’s not all doom and gloom. Sure, people might be morons for turning over that one thing which everyone pretty much universally agrees is a bad thing to give away. On the bright side, all that energy I collect makes me ridiculously powerful. I don’t want to brag but I’m almost certain that if I really wanted to I could start a pretty huge natural disaster. Wait, sorry, I forgot who I was writing for. You have no idea how hard starting an earthquake is, do you? Maybe one day I’ll get to tell you from firsthand experience. Watch this space.

How did I get to know all this I hear you ask? Well, I suppose it started for me during high school, shortly after discovering that social skills were not my forte. Physics, math, literature, art, music: all of those things I could get the hang of. Joking around, small talk, and anything involving physical activity did not come quite so easily. As you may have noticed I’ve since come out of my shell somewhat, even if I still don’t understand the appeal of football.

I’d like to tell you that bullying drove me to dark acts to get a little empathy going between us, but the truth is I wasn’t really bullied all that much. I was just your average loner who kept his head down and tried not to attract the attention of the larger and more unhinged set of future delinquents in the playground. A lot of my time was spent in libraries since by that age my parents seemed to notice me as much as my teachers.

So it was then, that when I was thirteen, I came across something interesting in the local public library. Apparently, some old man had recently died and left no one to inherit his things. As a result, they’d carted off his impressive collection of old books down to the library to be sorted out. By then I was such a familiar sight to the people who worked there that I was practically a part of the furniture. Seriously, one of the chairs was perfectly molded to the shape of my ass.

I turned up as usual after school to do the day’s homework and pick something up in which to bury my nose for a few hours. When I walked in the door and found the enormous stacks of strange books settled over two of the big tables in the study area I was instantly curious. This was mostly due to the fact that I’d read everything in the place that I was interested in twice already and for the previous six months I’d been reading such fascinating offerings as The Gardener’s Guide to Pests and Royal Weddings: A Retrospective.

Seeing the stack of new material drew me over like a moth to the flame. The librarians obviously hadn’t paid that much attention to the books themselves when I first got to them because if they had then they sure as hell wouldn’t have been left out in the open. I think that they must have believed them to be books about occult practices. Historical accounts of magic and mystery through the ages. I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and then, once I was sure I wasn’t about to be interrupted, I reached out and pulled open the thick black leather cover of one of the tomes.

It was obvious from looking at the first page that this was no mere history book or any new age hippy crap. This was an instruction manual on the subject of dark magic. Honestly? I know it sounds corny, but it really was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. The ebon cover was utterly blank and yet, once opened, the book displayed finely shaped words set in jet black ink that weaved their way across luxurious, thick pages that were yellowed with age. An intricate, hand-drawn border lined every page with dark patterns that vaguely resembled long, thorny vines, interlacing together in wicked shapes.

I looked at the words but couldn’t make any sense of them. I’d come across many different styles of writing in different languages, even at thirteen. By then I could already speak decent enough French to get by in Paris, and I’d started to learn German and Spanish. As I said, I had a lot of free time back then. So it came as something of an insult to my efforts when the one thing I’d found in months that I wanted to read wasn’t in any language I’d ever known.

Do you know how they say curiosity killed the cat? Well, meow.

It was the first time I’d ever broken the law, but looking through those glorious pages made me want to know what those words were saying more than anything. For my first attempt at thievery, things went rather well. Within five seconds the big book was in my bag, and shortly after that my fear of getting seen caught up with me and I ducked out of the library to rush home.

Home, in case you’re wondering, was settled in the middle of a terraced row of council houses on an estate so rough that you could turn a wooden square block into a wooden ball just by throwing it through the air. You couldn’t turn a corner without seeing a used needle on the ground or a soggy condom draped over the twigs of a dead bush. When I walked inside my house there was usually the immediate sense of slow decay. My parents didn’t talk to each other and they sure as hell didn’t care about home improvement. The essentials worked and everything else had been slowly falling to pieces ever since they’d moved in.

I heard the usual sound of the TV in the living room and the usual lack of any kind of greeting from either of the two people who brought me into the world. It didn’t matter to me since I wanted to be left alone. I rushed up the stairs to my room and closed the door. I pulled my newest acquisition out of my school bag and let it fall open on my desk. I was hoping that I could copy down some of the words and solve the mystery of the language with a quick trip to cyberspace during the next day’s dinner break at school.

My plans were soon shattered when I discovered that most of the words had completely vanished except for the two settled in the center of the page.

Hello, Wilfred.

As you can imagine, this did quite a number on my 13-year-old self. Then the words were joined by several more beneath the originals.

How may I be of service?

Now, I’m no idiot. I’d read Harry Potter, and as a result, I fully knew the risks of dealing with books that occasionally liked to converse with their reader. Then again, I had a freaking book that could talk! Well, it couldn’t talk, just write, but that’s still a ways above what most of us are used to, right?

So, after about 10 minutes of standing there looking down at my desk, I finally managed to eke out a whisper.

“What are you?”

The writing in the center of the page vanished and new letters began to weave their way across the top of the paper.

I am the Nocturne Compendium. My pages hold the combined writings of over two millennia’s worth of arcane lore. I have been modified and updated by hundreds of highly capable practitioners of dark magic. How may I be of service?

Well, wasn’t my new book just a little bit full of itself?

“Dark magic?” I forgot to whisper. No one cared.

Instead of the conversational answers, I’d been given before, the book’s pages began to turn on their own accord with such speed that they sent air rushing across my face. The sensation made me realize that I’d barely been breathing and I let out a quick gasp as the page suddenly fell open toward the end of the book. I’d noticed as those pages had been rushing by that all of them were completely blank, as was the one the book had selected until writing began again.

Glossary:

Dark magic – The branch of magical lore devoted to the study of magical energies aligned with the dark realms.

Well that didn’t sound too good, did it? Now that I remember that first interaction with the Nocturne Compendium I almost shudder. I can’t possibly tell you how amazingly lucky I was that I picked up that book and none of the others. The Compendium is almost unique in that it is one of the few things created by people in my profession that isn’t designed to hurt anyone using it who shouldn’t be. For example, if you happened to read the first three books on my office bookshelf without my permission then you’d spend the rest of your very short life as a leprous donkey with dysentery.

Since other warlocks are often similarly protective of their stuff, a lot of knowledge gets lost when we die. The Nocturne Compendium was an effort to fix that. It won’t hurt anyone who reads it that shouldn’t. It just makes no sense to them. This is because it’s designed to be passed down through the generations, amassing more and more knowledge as more and more warlocks use it for their work. I found out later that the warlock who owned it before it came into my hands had died before he could successfully pass it on. Since we’re not too morally uptight about stealing from the dead, the book decided that I was its new owner.

I won’t go into the entirety of my first conversation with that book. I didn’t know what questions to ask back then and I don’t enjoy reminiscing about all the idiotic ideas that came into my head. What I will tell you is that the book turned out to be everything it said it was. It could quite easily reproduce the writings and accompanying notes of long-dead warlocks at my command. It even had illustrations; most of which made me feel sick.

I took the next day off school to stay home and read the book. All it took was a quick word to my mother that I didn’t feel so well before she gave me an absent grunt of acknowledgment and I hurried back upstairs. I’d found a collection of articles written by a warlock to his apprentice during the 13th century. These articles outlined the basics of using dark magic.

This brings me to my next little fun factoid. Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to actually use dark magic?

Let me put it this way: you sure as hell don’t learn it in a day. The easiest way is to simply summon up a demon and offer your soul in exchange for magical knowledge. The demon will do exactly the kind of thing I do and just slice off the excess power for itself and use you as its little battery for the rest of your life. Of course, the problem with that, as the book thankfully outlined several times, is that the energy your soul gives out is the main thing that powers your own magical ability. So you end up knowing the ins and outs intimately but only being able to conduct very minor spells. It’s also not a very good idea to make contracts with others if you don’t have a firm hold on your own soul, especially not if it belongs to a demon. I’d elaborate but frankly, I don’t have the stomach for it.

So I had to start from scratch. Self-taught initiation to magic involves a lot of work. Every night I read more of the Nocturne Compendium and most of my days in school were spent trying to force pencils across my desk with only my willpower. I didn’t flag behind in my classes. To tell you the truth, after spending so much time in the library I knew most of what my teachers were going to say before they said it anyway.

It took me three years before the pencil moved.

I remember it wasn’t long after my 16th birthday and I was sat at my desk at home, taking a break from some coursework. I turned to the constantly-stationary pencil on my desk and almost absently thought about moving it when it finally obeyed and rolled a few inches across the wooden surface. At first, I thought it was just some other factor. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d gotten my hopes up only to find I was taking the credit from a gust of wind or someone slightly knocking the table. So I tried again and sure enough, nothing happened.

Back to work I went until after 10 minutes or so I did the same thing again and once more the pencil moved a few inches toward the end of my desk. This was cause for excitement. I’d managed to get the mental gymnastics correct for a while but I lacked the necessary focus that the monotony of writing out school coursework had finally given me.

I swear you have never seen anyone so excited about a pencil in your entire life. It took me only three minutes before the thing finally rolled off of the edge of my desk. By the end of the night, I could roll the thing back and forth across the desk and spin it around on the spot.

It had started.

The main reason I’d kept up with the attempt at rolling pencils for three years via telekinesis was the consistently-interesting reading material within the Nocturne Compendium. That’s right, three years in and I still hadn’t read a tenth of its contents. What I knew was that pencil-pushing was only the first step on a very long road.

It took me three months before I could levitate a feather an inch off of the ground. Levitation is a hell of a lot harder than pushing since you have to balance the forces involved. Flicking it up into the air was easy but getting it to hover in place? Not so much. After that, I started pushing heavier objects. Do you remember me telling you that the power of a soul depends on the person? A very creative, determined, and emotional person has much more of it than someone who isn’t all those things.

Using dark magic makes that energy flare up more and more. It’s like a muscle. The more you use it, the more powerful it gets.

By the end of the year, I could have sent that damn pencil flying across the room and skewered you in the eye with pinpoint accuracy.

My studies continued with fresh interest and more years passed as I advanced to basic alchemy and practicing with the four basic elements. I was lucky I didn’t poison, drown, bury, suffocate or immolate myself. So by the time I hit 18 years of age, I decided that I was a man and that it was time to summon my first demon.

Naturally, being an 18-year-old male I wanted my first demon to be a succubus. I’ll admit that this was mostly because the pictures of them in the Nocturne Compendium had gotten me through my lonely adolescence. I didn’t exactly ignore the warnings about the nature of succubi, but that isn’t to say I was fully prepared for what I was getting into either. Here’s some of what the book has to say about them:

Succubus – A creature birthed in the realm of lust and dark desire, the succubus is often sought out for its unnatural allure. It is one of the few demons capable of evolving itself as it ages. Initially, the creature resembles a particularly thin and physically weak woman with few traits that would betray her demonic nature. Though the true origins of the succubi are unknown, it is suspected that the creature is born of a broken heart. Initially a relatively weak demon; if the succubus is allowed to flourish within the dark realms it can become incredibly powerful. Whilst in the dark realms, the creatures will often engage in mass orgies in order to feed on the greater power of the realm itself.

Once it has consumed the required amount of energy, it will grow long claws at the fingertips. Upon reaching this stage, the creature can feed on the magical energy of other demons via any sexual act resulting in physical orgasm and often destroys its victim in the process. The succubus also tends to explore the other dark realms as it grows in order to feed on different demons and expand its own powers.

It is possible to discern how powerful these demons are from their physical appearance.

Initially, the creature appears as a thin, sickly-pale, middle-aged woman. The only demonic features of note at this stage are the eyes, which are completely black without a trace of either iris or pupil. Whilst in this phase, the demon can be engaged with relative safety, although it can only survive for minutes when taken out of its realm.

The true danger of the succubus begins when it manifests its claws. Although the claws themselves are potentially lethal, they are more importantly a sign of the succubus’s maturation and ability to consume energy other than that of the realm of their birth. More than this, the creature will appear younger and healthier with a much greater appeal to the sexual desire of others.

After it has fed upon several new victims, the succubus’s eyes will change as the blackness that once dominated the entire orbs will shift to the center. This results in a slitted pupil surrounded by a newly crimson-hued eye. The change signals that the succubus is capable of minor emotional manipulation and it will often use this power to heighten feelings of lust in potential victims.

By the time the demoness grows horns, it is considered highly dangerous and should not be summoned unless fully contained. The ability to manipulate emotions grows to an ability to read thought and sense the deepest desire of its victim. Although naturally appearing as a highly attractive woman in her 30s, the creature may change its shape at will. This makes it extremely difficult to recapture if it manages to escape. It also means that a summoner should be exceptionally wary of all succubi, as the demon may simply be assuming a lesser form of itself in order to lure the warlock into a false sense of security.

The tail is a sign that the creature is adept in the use of magic and, as such, it means that it has successfully consumed a mortal soul. Succubi, like all demons, lack a soul and may only draw their power from the dark realms. However, once it has consumed a mortal soul it may use that energy as we do. Once the energy is spent, however, then the creature cannot regain it by any other means than seducing another mortal. They may steal the power but they lack the capability to naturally renew it within themselves.

Hooves replace the human feet of the succubus when the creature has consumed enough souls and used magic long enough to manifest permanently in the mortal world. The hooves begin at the lower shin and extend the leg before bending forwards into the cloven tip.

Finally, should you ever summon a succubus with wings; always prepare a banishment and immediately raise your defenses. Wings indicate that the demoness has consumed so many souls that it can steal that energy without physical contact. It is also likely a servant of one of the arch-demons of the dark realms or an arch-demon itself.

In dealing with these creatures, the summoner should be aware that they are very direct in their sexuality and are often very eager to break free into our realm. It is most unwise to let desire hold your mind whilst in their company.

There, all filled in? Well then, let’s continue.

So, one rainy day in late November, I waited until after dark and hauled my bag of tricks toward an abandoned tenement building to set up my first summoning. By the way, do you know what you need to summon up a demon? Anything you can make a big enough circle out of. That’s all. A large enough hula-hoop will do if you’re in a pinch. No incense, no pentagrams, no animal bones, and definitely no candles. Trying to bind a demon with naked flame is like trying to stop the spread of a forest fire with gasoline.

I quickly rushed up through the building as quietly as I could so that I didn’t draw the attention of the inevitable homeless inhabitants of the place. I found a room with a door that was still on its hinges and settled myself in. It might once have been a living room but all that remained was a faded green carpet over the floor bearing a number of suspicious stains and some slowly peeling wallpaper covered in graffiti.

I immediately got to work by rolling out the large smooth blue mat I’d emblazoned with a perfectly round white circle and sitting down just outside its perimeter. Sorry to burst any more bubbles you might have going on in your head about the nature of what I do, but there aren’t any magic words and there’s no chanting involved in summoning a demon. You just sit patiently whilst focusing your mind and create the required environment for your potential thrall to come forth.

First, the circle must be strong enough to hold the demon for which you’re summoning. Then, you must create a space within its confines where a being made of pure magical energy can survive. Next, you make the lure. For a succubus, it’s always arousal within the summoner. Finally, you open the door into the dark realms and wait until something pours through.

In case you were wondering then yes, managing all this at the same time is not an easy task. Thankfully, the Nocturne Compendium taught me how to make all these elements of the trap self-sustaining once they are in place so that a warlock doesn’t need to maintain concentration if it is successful. Of course, if something went wrong, any number of things could happen, from me being killed by a lady of the dark realms to opening a rift in the dimensions big enough for something truly nasty to get through.

So, being young and stupid, I quickly got to work setting up the elements and then I awaited my catch. Yes, at the end of the day we warlocks have more in common with trout fishermen than we do with your average devil worshipper.

I waited 30 minutes before anything happened. I heard her first in the sound of a soft little moan that echoed throughout the room reverberating with a scintillating edge. Then the center of the circle came alight with a burst of green flame that almost singed my eyebrows before it flickered out to reveal my catch.

To this day one of the most pleasant memories of my entire life was the first moment I saw Channa. She was all that was advertised and more. Her body was a perfectly proportioned collection of slender slopes with just enough curves at her hips and her breast to make my mouth water. Skin that was the shade of smooth, luscious alabaster covered her wonderful womanly figure. Settled upon her knees, her heels tucked against the heart-shaped cheeks of her bare bottom, she made a sinfully submissive sight for my hungry eyes. Long, slender legs were folded against themselves and parted to show a naughty strip of jet black hair at the apex of her thighs. Beneath that dark little tuft were the bright pink lips of her already glistening pussy, parted slightly to show a hint of her welcoming depths.

Her hips narrowed into a tight waist with gentle inclines of taut muscle flowing up toward nicely-rounded, moderately-proportioned breasts with perky, rose-colored nipples. When I laid my eyes on her face I felt my heart starting to thunder against my ribcage. I saw a vision of female perfection accented with dark carnal allure and framed in a cascade of silky black curls.

Of course, the fact that this was no ordinary woman was immediately evident. I first noticed the long black claws that tipped her fingers when she moved her hands forward to slide them down upon the floor. Those long vicious digits settled on the ground between her legs as she leaned toward me. She looked at me with gleaming eyes, the color of freshly polished rubies with long slitted pupils at their center. Those dark little slits slowly dilated as she looked upon me the same way I’d only seen women look at a tub of chocolate ice cream. Her brow was adorned with two long slender black horns that curved backward along the top of her skull.

I’d done it. I’d summoned a demon.

I was also pretty damn certain that I’d fallen in love too, but that was beside the point.

“Well? Do you speak?” Her voice had me moving toward her before I caught myself and rallied my willpower enough to stay back.

As you can imagine, I was a little bit stuck for words. I think during those first years I was waiting for my hobby to disappoint me. I could move a pencil, but I probably couldn’t levitate one. I could summon fire but probably couldn’t write my name in the sky with it. I could imbue magic into things, but I probably couldn’t summon anything from the dark realms.

So far my cynicism had been wrong at every turn.

“Hello. Er... may I have your name?” I suddenly remembered what I planned to do if anything actually did happen.

The question made the beautiful and thoroughly deadly creature suddenly grin at me. She flashed a set of very sharp canines and incisors amongst gleaming white teeth. The way she kept eye contact was damn well un-nerving, not to mention incredibly arousing.

“Now, now my dear sweet boy. We’ve just met, you and I. Have you no pleasantries to offer before you ask something of me?”

Her face had an alluring maturity to its features and if she were human I’d have thought she might have just slipped into her early 30s. This, combined with her other less-subtle features, gave me an idea of just how powerful she was. Of course she could have been much more powerful and simply be hiding it from me but the truth was that she was already probably much more powerful than I was so why should she bother? At least, that’s what I hoped.

“What do you want?” I took the direct approach.

“I want you to come to me in this little circle so that I can peel you out of those garments and see what your cock feels like on my tongue.”

To emphasise her words she let her pointed, pink tongue slowly lick over her upper lip and then opened her mouth to wiggle it at me.

“Then I’d be dead.” I said that more to myself than to her. Right then it was helpful to say aloud the reason I couldn’t run over there and let her do anything she damn well pleased to me.

“But you’d be happy. Very happy.” Well, she didn’t exactly need to tell me that. A certain part of me was already extremely happy for her to just be there.

“But not for long.” I brought my common sense to the fore and stifled that little voice in my head telling me to go and enjoy my last moments on earth with her.

“Oh, come now. We could be at it for hours and hours,” she lowered her voice to a promising whisper.

“Are you kidding? I’m an 18-year-old virgin. Ten seconds would be an accomplishment.”

These words obviously surprised the succubus. It was almost funny to see her expression shift from that damn near panting, wanton look of lusty desire and into wide-eyed shock. She held that expression for a few brief moments before my words sank in and she flung her head back and let out a peal of lyrical laughter. One of her hands lifted from the floor to settle the backs fingers loosely across her mouth in a half hearted attempt to hide her widely upward curved lips.

“Oh, my boy! You’re certainly not like the others are you? It’s a shame you’re so new at this. I think I’d have enjoyed seeing you again.” Her eyes narrowed upon me and her smile became less amused and much more vicious.

“What do you mean?” I felt an icy wave of fear wash over me and steeled my face in order to hide it from her. She shouldn’t have been able to read my mind with the containment I’d set up for her.

“I mean that you’ve made a very nice containment circle and the magical energies you’ve put in here to sustain me are very yummy indeed, but you’ve forgotten something.” As she spoke she calmly lifted herself up to her feet and lifted her arms above her head to stretch her slender body for my viewing pleasure.