desires to pollinate you.”
Victoria felt the first glimmer of hope. She had only desired that this demon return her to her bed. She planned to get better at summoning. This encounter at least had shown her that such a thing could work. She was already making plans to try again. She always got better with practice.
“Can you call him for me?” she asked hopefully.
The smoky tree face frowned. “I could.”
“Would you?” she rephrased the question, understanding how literal one must be when communicating with demons.
“There is a price.”
Victoria paused. She could try again for free tomorrow night. She might have to try many times. She narrowed her eyes in thought. This demon might bring her demon, but he might not. He might bring the wrong demon as well. Something bigger, or something even more evil-tempered. The tree demon had said that she must know the name. She sighed, hanging in a barky clutch outside her second-story window in the wee hours of the morning. She didn’t know his name.
“What is the price?”
“I wish to pollinate you.”
This demand did not surprise her. She did not have to consider the offer. “No. Only he shall pollinate me.”
The branches tightened. “I do not have to ask,” it threatened. She felt one of the branches slide up her inner thigh and stop at her cleft.
Victoria was not afraid. “He will know,” she warned the tree.
The branch immediately withdrew. She had played that card right.
“If he knows I have you, why does he not come?” This was not a stupid demon.
Victoria did not have a ready answer, though now the idea formed in her head that if she were in danger, perhaps he would appear. She may not know his name, but her book contained the names of many demons. She might summon them one by one until her demon felt compelled to put a stop to it. Does he care? Would he save her?
The tree demon pushed her back through her window and set her on her bed. The gnarled branch withdrew and her window rematerialized, every glass shard flew back into the panes. She sat there in the dark for a moment before realizing it was all over. She turned on the bedside lamp. The room filled with the scent of new mown hay that gradually dissipated.
Her book was open to the bookseller’s business card. The one that had no number or address. She picked it up. “Albert Magnus,” she said aloud.
Her phone buzzed on the table by the lamp. She picked it up. The screen read, Albert Magnus. She pushed the button and put it to her ear. “Hello?” She whispered.
“You called?” She recognized the old man’s voice.
“Ah!” Victoria blinked rapidly. “Yes.”
“What is it? Did you finish the book? Do you need another one?”
“Ah.”
“I see,” Mr. Magnus said. “There is a trick to that. It cannot be taught, but only learned through practice. You are not ready for the next book. Keep trying.”
“Uhm,” she mumbled.
“That’s right. Next time roll the r’s. Do not slur, but it helps to pronounce the words as though you are singing. Make your voice work with the sound. It is all in the vowels. Extend the vowels longer.” The line went dead, like a dropped call. Victoria set the phone down gently on the table. She stared at it for a moment then picked it up and touched calls received. The number wasn’t there. Nothing was there since her sister called yesterday. She set it down again and stared into the room.
Obviously he thinks I should continue. I didn’t get to ask all my questions.
She picked up the book. Part of her wanted to try again immediately. Part of her still hurt from being squeezed by a tree. Most of all, she did not want another day to go by without him.
Why didn’t he try to save her from the tree? The tree had been concerned that he might. The tree was afraid of her demon. It put her back as soon as the possibility presented itself. The tree did not want him to appear. She tapped her lower lip. The book was warm in her other hand.
She flipped the pages to the list of demonic names. He had never told her his name. He would not. According to the book, a demon’s name held its power. Naming one gave you the power to summon it, and if you could hold it, you could demand a favor. If you could not hold it, then it might take