Slaying Monsters for the Feeble - Annette Marie Page 0,1
with the process, you can transition to thinking the commands silently.
(Commands not working? Turn to pg. 12 for troubleshooting help.)
I snorted at the thought of a “troubleshooting” page, imagining their suggestions. Demon won’t boot properly? Try turning your infernus off and on again.
Under normal circumstances, a contractor controlled their demon like a puppet, manipulating its every movement through a telepathic connection. I didn’t have to worry about that. In fact, I had zero control over my demon.
Which, all in all, was a terrifying problem to have.
I tapped the page. “‘There are two magical command words tied to your infernus.’ Hmm.”
Command words tied to the infernus. That could mean they were built into the contract or built into the magic of the infernus. Since I didn’t have a real contract, I suspected the commands wouldn’t work, but only one way to know for sure.
Balancing the book on one hand, I tugged my infernus from under my jacket and tilted it toward the light, the chain jingling. I examined the palm-sized silver pendant. Perfectly round, flat, and thin, with a spiky emblem etched in the center. Arcane runes marked the outer edge.
Focusing on the empty aisle a yard away, I muttered dubiously, “Daimon, anastethi.”
Red light flared across the infernus and I almost dropped it. Arcing out of the pendant, the bright blaze hit the dusty tiles and pooled upward, as though filling an invisible mold. At almost six feet, the light solidified into the familiar shape of my demon.
My extremely displeased demon.
Crimson eyes stared down at me, their eerie glow obscuring dark pupils that had contracted to slits against the overhead fluorescent lights. Four small horns, two above each temple, hid in his tangled black hair, and a mixture of dark fabric, sturdy leather, and gleaming metal armor partially covered smooth, toffee-colored skin with a burgundy undertone.
His dusky lips pulled back from his teeth, revealing pointed canines. “What did you do, payilas?”
Demons inspired panic in everyone and I was no exception—but my sharp alarm was for a different reason. I frantically checked if anyone had noticed that flare of light.
When no one started screaming about the demon in the library, I glanced from the book to Zylas. I had … I had called him out of the infernus?
“Payilas,” he growled.
“Um.” I hesitantly lifted the book. “I found the commands for the infernus?”
Those lava-like eyes narrowed, then swept away from me to take in our surroundings. His nostrils flared with a silent inhalation and his nose wrinkled in distaste.
“What is this place?” he asked, an alien accent swirling through his husky voice.
“It’s a library … part of the Arcana Historia guild. Which, uh, means you should go back into the infernus before someone sees you.”
His long, thin tail swished, the two curved barbs on the end just missing a shelf of invaluable texts. He canted his head as though listening.
“There is no one close.” He waved a hand around us. “What you need, is it here?”
“I don’t know. I only just started looking. Will you get back in the infernus now?”
His upper lip curled, flashing his canines again.
Nerves tightened my stomach. My demon was standing in the middle of a mythic library. If anyone saw him, at best, I would get kicked out. At worst, I would be discovered as an illegal contractor and put to death.
Time to try out the “rest” command. I concentrated on my infernus. Daimon, hechaze!
Nothing happened. Crap. Was I messing up the Ancient Greek? I was better at Latin. I looked down at the open book.
It vanished from my grasp. Zylas held the book up as though debating whether to burn it to ash on the spot. Turning, he stretched onto his toes, reached for the highest shelf, and shoved the book into the back.
He dropped onto his heels and faced me. Barely topping five feet, I had no chance of reaching the book without a ladder. Which he knew. Jaw clenched, I turned my back on him and glowered at the nearest shelf. What was that command? Hecheze … hesachaze … hesychaza …
Warm breath brushed across the top of my head, stirring my hair.
I shot a glare over my shoulder at Zylas, who was standing obnoxiously close. “Back up. I can’t concentrate.”
“Concentrate on what? You are not doing anything.”
I gritted my teeth. The only thing worse than a disobedient demon was a grumpy disobedient demon.
“You have not done anything for weeks,” he complained. “Days and days of nothing but sleep and lounge and sleep—”