…sigils and surprises…

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Lisa watched with mute fascination as Patrick went about his business. He worked quickly, but methodically, occasionally asking Lisa or Missouri to hand him one strange object or another.

With swift, sure strokes he drew a circle on one side of the room, eight feet in diameter. Inside the circle he drew a pentagram. In the outer hemispheres, he sketched a series of bizarre sigils and numbers.

Then he repeated the process on the left side of the room, using a thick, amber liquid from a different can.

"What is that?" asked Lisa.

"Holy oil," Patrick explained, "Works like a devil's trap for angels."

"Even Lucifer?"

"He's an angel, isn't he?"

"Well, that's debatable," Lisa mumbled.

"What am I doing here, Patrick?" asked Missouri, "Summoning Satan…? That's a bit out of my league."

"Don't worry, my darlin'," said Patrick, "I'll prepare the summonings. You're just here to talk to the spirit."

"What spirit?"

"Shh…!"

Lisa swung round, suddenly. Patrick and Missouri threw her questioning glances.

"I heard something," she said.

They all strained their ears.

And there it was. A shuffling coming from outside the door.

"Must be Dean and Castiel, back with Bobby," said Patrick.

The next second, though, the door was flung open, and a gang of teenagers, all dressed in raggedy black clothing charged into the room. Lisa and Missouri instantly fell back alongside Patrick. The invaders, led by a tall, pimply-faced boy with a tattoo of a skull on his cheek, stalked to the middle of the room.

"The hot one," said the leader, "She's the one we want."

"Who the hell are you?" Patrick took a step forward. He turned his palm outward, gathering his power, "Demons can't come in here."

"We're not demons," the leader sneered, "We're Satanists."

He said this simply, like: "We're boy scouts."

"What?"

"Sa-tan-ists…" The boy repeated, slowly, "Now get out of our way you foreign pig!"

"Oh, boyo…" Patrick chuckled, "You don't know what you just stepped into."

"It's okay," said Lisa, coming forward, "If they're humans, this will work just as well."

She reached under her jacket, and drew out two nine-millimetre pistols – presents from Dean. She levelled them on the leader, and the sidekick just behind him. The Satanists shrunk back instinctively.

"I suppose," said Patrick, "Do me a favour and shoot 'em quickly, will you? This takes a lot of concentration."

He turned his back and crouched down over the second circle. As he reached for the paintbrush, stars exploded in his mind. For a second, Patrick couldn't register what had happened. He felt a massive blast of pain in the back of his head. His vision swam. And then everything went black.

It took a few long seconds before Lisa could even react.

She heard Patrick grunt, and swivelled to her left. She saw Missouri standing over him, the long black cudgel held in her hand. Lisa took all this in, but it refused to register. What was Missouri doing?

Only when she saw the drops of Patrick's blood dripping from the end of the weapon, did Lisa's brain finally click into gear. She swung towards the older woman, bringing the pistols to bear. Unfortunately, she took her eyes off the psychotic youths in front of her.

The leader sprang forward like a feral cat. He tackled her with a vicious spear, bearing her to the ground.

Lisa's head cracked against the floor… and everything went dark.

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