“. . . Huc veni: daemonium. Ego amicum tuum. Sis amicus. . .” Jessica read aloud from the old leather book, and waited. She sat in a padmasana on the dusty wooden floor of the long abandoned antique bookstore and scratched her leg through her Pink by VS sweat pants.
Jessica looked at the pentagram she drew in salt. Maybe it’s not even enough, she wondered, staring at points either too obtuse, too acute, or slightly crooked.
Maybe the salt can’t be iodized, she thought, grabbing the twenty-six ounce container of Morton Salt. She read the label underneath the girl standing in the rain: This salt does not contain iodine, a necessary nutrient. Oh.
Jessica set the salt down, and the room began to shake. A twisted purple creature, half-goat and half-dragon appeared in the center of the pentagram.
A voice inside Jessica’s head cried out, At last I am free. Who summons firebrand the slaughterer of souls?
“Jessica?” she said out loud, wondering if she had to say it or merely think it.
I prefer it when you speak.
“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”
Why have you awakened me?
“Uh, shits and giggles?”
What coven do you represent?
“Oh, no. You’ve got the wrong idea. I just found this book here and started trying some stuff.”
You risk the fate of the world and your immortal soul for minor jollities?
“Bro, take a look outside.”
Firebrand glanced out the window and saw the mangled zombie horde.
Ugh. Fuck those guys.