Summon the Dark

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The inside of the church was, in a word, beautiful.

Passing through the small, marble-tiled vestibule, Dean and Lisa emerged into a cavernous room. It's high ceiling supported by a series of carved arches. The walls themselves were dappled stone, with a line of exquisite stained-glass windows running down either side. The pews were carved from polished ebony, and above the altar was a massive cross, bearing, in gold leaf, the words… Seek Me, Children of the Lost…

At the far-end of the centre aisle, on his knees before the altar, was a priest. He didn't raise his head, even though he must have heard them come in. Their footsteps echoed into the far reaches of the church as they walked down the aisle. They were almost on top of him, when he slowly crossed himself, and stood.

He was young, for a priest, maybe late-thirties or early-forties, with thinning black hair and an amiable smile. He wore the traditional robes and collar.

"Hello, father," said Dean.

"Hello, my son. Can I help you?"

"Uh, no…" said Dean, "We just came to, uh… to sit and, you know… pray."

Dean felt Lisa's elbow strike him in the ribs and he blocked a grunt of pain.

"I was just about to lock up," said the priest, "I usually spend the evenings moving around the parish, counselling people in their homes."

"Well, you don't mind if we stay here, do you?" asked Dean, "We won't be all that long. And you can lock up the sacramental silver if you want."

This time, Dean was ready, and stepped sharply left as Lisa aimed another elbow at his midsection. The priest smiled.

"Not at all," he said, "You can stay as long as you want. Light a candle. Take the time to reflect."

Dean and Lisa smiled their thanks as the priest moved past them, his robes swishing as he made his way up the aisle and out of the church. When they heard the door close behind him, Lisa swung on Dean.

"Do the words just bypass your brain and tumble out of your mouth?" she asked.

"Usually… yeah," said Dean.

He swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it, scanning the items inside. They were all purchased at a jewellery store and a cheap magicke novelty shop near the university campus.

"Come on, let's get this stuff set up," said Dean, "I reckon we have about an hour."

"Hold on," said Lisa.

She stepped past him, to the low table just beside the pulpit. On it, were rows of scented candles. On a stand was a single, taller candle, it's flame guttering in the almost nonexistent breeze. She plucked the candle from it's stand, and lit one of the others, furthest to the right in the back row. Then she crossed herself and bowed her head, offering up a quick prayer.

"I didn't know you were Catholic," said Dean, coming up behind her.

"I'm not," said Lisa, "I just figured we might need the big guns on our side."

"True that," said Dean.

There was a large open area between the altar and the first pew – a space roughly fifteen feet in diameter. Large enough.

Dean pulled the Degas book out of the backpack, and flipped to a page in back. It contained a set of instructions, aided by a rough-drawn graphic. Dean studied it for a minute, picturing exactly what he had to do.

"What's first?" asked Lisa.

"Candles," said Dean, "At the four compass points – North, East, South and West."

He took out four stubby candles, gave two to Lisa, and they placed them on the appropriate spots on the floor.

Next, Dean removed a small jewellery bag. It was velvet, with a drawstring. He opened it, and tipped the contents out into his hand. There were four belly-button rings, each with a gemstone setting. They'd cost a bundle, and Dean was glad he'd brought along an extra fake credit card.

He handed two to Lisa. A diamond, and a ruby.

"Oh, Dean, you shouldn't have…" she muttered.

Dean pulled a face.

"Place them on the floor against that wall, and that wall…" he said, pointing, "The diamond's air, the ruby's fire."

Lisa moved off. Dean cupped the last two pieces – sapphire, and onyx, for water and earth.

The onyx stone, he placed behind the altar, underneath the cross. Then he hustled up the aisle, to the dividing wall separating the inner sanctum from the vestibule, and laid the sapphire down.

He returned to the candles, and drew out a bag of silica, ground into a fine powder. He ripped it open with his teeth, and drew a careful circle, connecting the four candles.

"Give me the book," said Lisa.

Dean handed it over. She also removed a small jar of olive oil from his backpack, and stepped into the circle. She found the centre, and crouched down. Pivoting on the toe of her boot, she dribbled a wide circle around herself. Then, careful not to disturb the new circle, she stepped out and, constantly checking the book, she used the oil to draw a series of strange, warped sigils.

Dean took out the last item, a packet of crushed barley. This he scattered in a rough line, leading from the point farthest south of the circle, to the back wall of the church.

He made a quick trip to his car, and when he came back, Lisa had lit the candles.

"There," said Lisa, "It's ready."

Her eyes were wide, and her breathing was distinctly heavier. Dean put an arm around her waist, and drew her close.

"It's going to work," said Dean, "Don't worry."

Lisa just nodded. Dean handed her one of the two shotguns he'd collected from the car, as well her bottle of holy water. He kept a bottle for himself. With the weapon in her hand, Lisa seemed to relax.

"Let's do this," she said.

Dean took the book from her, and found the page with the Summoning. On the opposite page was the corresponding Banishing, that would send the evil sonofabitch back to Hell.

He opened his mouth, ready to begin the incantation, then closed it again. Lisa frowned at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

Dean took a deep breath.

"Before we do this, I just, uh… I wanted to say that, uh…"

He broke off, lips pinched in a wry, self-deprecating smile. He shook his head.

"I just… I wanted you to know that…"

"It's okay," said Lisa, so gentle, "I know."

"No," said Dean, "I have to tell you that I, uh… that I…"

"Dean…"

She reached up, brushing her hand against his face, forcing him to look at her. There were wells of almost-tears in her eyes.

"I know…" she said, again.

Dean nodded. He bent down, and kissed her. It was light, and quick, and precious.

He broke the kiss, and turned back to the book.

"Ómne aries sudatum…" he began.

They looked up when they heard the clunk of the door handle being turned. The front door creaked open, followed by muffled footsteps.

"Dammit!" Dean swore.

A second later, the priest appeared in the shadows at the back of the room. He'd already started down the aisle before he took in the scene in front of him. He stopped, confusion on his face.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Listen, father," said Dean, "This isn't what it looks like."

"What are you two doing?" he demanded, almost running down the aisle now, with choppy steps.

"I'm sorry, father," said Lisa, "But we can explain…"

"Really?" said the priest, "Because, this is a House of God, my dear. What possible explanation can there be for… whatever this is?"

"Uh, well…" Dean blabbered, "See, the thing is…"

"I'm disappointed in you, Dean," said the priest.

"I'm sorry, but I, uh…" Dean broke off, rewinding over that in his head, before saying: 'What?"

"Did you really think you could trap me?"

The priest smiled, and a yellow flush glazed over his eyes.

"It's him!" Lisa yelled, stepping back, wrenching on the slide of the shotgun.

Dean was already moving. That same instinct that had propelled him to attack a creature on a movie screen all those years ago came to bear now. From hip height, he brought the barrel of the shotgun to bear and pulled the trigger.

The cartridge exploded from the muzzle, smashing into the demon's chest. A second later, a second blast from Lisa's gun took it dead centre.

The demon staggered back. Two steps… three.. Then he waved his hand, and their guns were plucked up by an invisible force and flung to the far sides of the room. Another wave and the bottles of holy water followed.

A low, animalistic growl escaped from the demon's throat. He rolled his shoulders, fixing them with a menacing glare.

"That stung," he hissed.

Crying out, Dean leapt forward, putting himself between the demon and Lisa. He cocked back his arm, and let fly with a murderous overhand blow, aiming for the demon's temple. The punch never landed.

Dean stopped in mid-air like he'd hit some hidden force field. The air was knocked from his lungs, and he collapsed to the ground.

"Enough games," said Azazel.

His eyes flicked up, fixing on Lisa.

"Twice now, you got me," he said, "Usually, I'd keep someone like you. Feisty, strong… just reckless enough to be dangerous… But not this time. Too… much… trouble…"

Azazel raised his hand, fingers pointed toward the roof of the church. He gave a little flick of his wrist, and Dean heard a loud CRACK!

Lisa's head whipped round like it was ripped by a maddened bear and her spinal cord severed at the tip. Her whole body went loose like her bones had suddenly dissolved, and she fell.

Dean could only watch, eyes snapped wide, mouth curled in a silent scream as her head stuck the floor, gushing out a spool of blood. Then she was still…

So still…

"Lisa… Lisa…" he moaned.

"Now," said Azazel, "Where were we?"

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