The pages of the book were entirely unreadable to him, with the exceptions of the stick-on notes in scrawled Japanese. Izaya couldn't discern the language; a mass of lines, sharp shapes, and occasional extravagant symbols. If the book wasn't the real deal, it certainly looked like an amazing fake. There was a soft discoloring to the pages due to age, but no rips or tears to suggest heavy use. His last client had been interesting, to put it lightly, and had offered the grimoire as thanks for the job completed after glancing at the topics of Izaya's shelves. Now, Izaya sat in his desk chair, using his foot to spin in place in between pages as he examined them. Skimming the notes was quick enough, most offering the barest information about the passage or page. Titles seemed to summarize purpose or usage, while personalized warnings were in smaller text under them.

One read: Blood Demon. Very violent! Dire emergency protection at best.

The words were underlined several times and made Izaya scoff.

Dullahans, vampires, demonic swords. Why couldn't your stereotypical demon exist in this world as well?

Another read: Cleansing Demon. Worth it?

Time Demon. High prices!

Suffering Demon. For those with nothing to lose?

Love Demon. This note gave Izaya pause, his foot planting. Dangerous! He hummed at the page, eyes traveling over words he couldn't comprehend and the intricate symbols carefully inked. He trailed his fingers over the largest, feeling the groves and textures the drawing instruments had made on the thick paper.

Izaya flipped to the next page with another scoff.

Information Demon. For the strong.

"The strong?" He mused aloud, a sour undertone to his voice. Plucking the note off of its page, he scanned the back. Succinct instructions for summoning were scribbled on the back, along with a phonetic writing of the chant required.

Alright, Izaya thought, this is the one then. His curiosity had risen with each turn of the page after accepting the grimoire. Would the book prove itself to be real or a fake? Are such mythological creatures so easily summoned to do your bidding? What exactly does the note insinuate by "for the strong"? Is this demon harder to control than others? Or is it saying that the kind of information you'd use a demon to seek for something only meant for the mentally strong, those that are able to accept such truths? Oh! How the informant wished to know! Wished to be one of the rare few on Earth to know such things! What could he ask it? What would he ask it?

Any solid surface would suffice for the summoning seal. Any type of ink or paint would be accepted, so long as the seal was created correctly. Izaya quickly swiped a slip of paper from his printer and a pen from his desk drawer. Setting the book open on his desk, he began studying the drawing closely, memorizing each oddity and planning out the best way to accurately copy the image.

Circles that overlapped, half completed ovals that crossed and intertwined with mock Vs, triangles whose sides looked both pressed and wrinkled, letters from a dead language that were curved, sharpened, jagged.

Three attempts created a perfect replica.

As instructed, Izaya placed the paper face up on the floor in the most open area of his living room and took a switchblade out of his pocket. A single drop of blood was to hit the seal as he read the chant, and then… Flicking the blade out, Izaya caught the excitement swimming in his eyes from his reflection. He composed himself with a deep breath and began.

Reciting the memorized words, Izaya outstretched his left hand over the seal, slid the blade down his palm, and then squeezed.

One droplet hit the seal dead center. Then there were three. It was five before Izaya retracted his hand. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I should have known it would be a waste of time." He wasn't too surprised, human fairy-tales and legends were often incorrect or flat out wrong. Now, he had an annoying little wound to attend to. The stinging had subsided, but it'd be wise to-

The brunet stared at his clean palm in wonder. The skin smooth and the cut gone as if he'd never sliced it open to begin with. If his flesh had magically stitched itself back together, then-

His eyes flew back to the paper, his pulse quickened with excitement. The droplets of blood had begun to slowly spread themselves and cover the seal entirely like icing being smoothed atop of a cake. Izaya patiently waited, watching.

The now deep red circle glowed brightly… for five seconds.

"Ah." Izaya exhaled flatly. "Demon-sa-"

Izaya's vision swam and body crumpled to the floor with a pained gasp. He had felt it, something slammed into him from above but nothing physically connecting to his body. Had he been struck over the head by an invisible force? His head hurt. He inhaled sharply, feeling another strike. His head hurt so much. The world in front of him was spotted in black, the colors blurred before becoming part of the darkness. Had he closed his eyes? He heaved with a choked gasp as there was another stab. He cradled his head in his hands, unable to lift it with the pressure bearing down on it.

Inside…?

His fingers groped through his hair for any wounds, finding nothing.

Inside of me!?

Izaya felt it at his brain. The sensation of hundreds of icepicks being jammed into his brain from every angle, of millions of needles pricking, poking, and piercing his most important organ. Was this fucking thing trying to lobotomize him?!

As unexpectedly as it had begun, it vanished. Izaya recoiled back from his hunched forward crumple, landing harshly on his back and ass and scrambled back, away from the source of his suffering. His heartbeat was frenzied and eyes wild with fear. Was that the end of it? What the hell had he done, what the hell had he allowed to happen to himself?! Why the fuck wasn't there a warning for that on the stick-on note?!

A loud crash of thunder blasted through his apartment. Izaya shrieked from the suddenness. The paper sparked like a wet electrical socket and the blood circle began to bubble, spilling over. The circle of the seal quickly tripled in size. Izaya watched, frozen as a human hand formed itself out of the deep red ooze and rose up.

It slapped onto his wooden flooring, the color fading to a sun-kissed pale. It braced itself and began lifting out the rest of the right arm. When what was most definitely a head of hair beginning to form and rise, Izaya took a deep breath. The vicious appearance of blood gave away to a soft mop of hair, the rosy red to a marigold yellow. The informant's face twisted in disbelief. The angle didn't matter, he'd recognize that head from anywhere.

Shizuo Heiwajima's face tilted up to address Izaya as it continued to form and lift the rest of its body out of the small puddle. Those eyes, all Izaya could think, are entirely wrong! The should be honey browns now a bright orchid pink.

"Izaya Orihara, I am the great demon Dēloun. For what reason have you requested my services?" It spoke evenly, with Shizuo's Heiwajima's voice.

Izaya huffed out a petulant laugh.