Page 226 of Crimson Promises
The smell of ash filled the air.Well, at least you know it’s still possessed.Meaning my plan, in theory,shouldwork.
I clasped my hands together. Not exactly eager to be melded together with this book again, but I had no other ideas on how to reach Ben. This was it.
Shoving down my fear, I stepped closer to the book.
The swirls of patterns outlined the front and connected over the spine to the back cover. As I did last time, I followed one of the deeper grooves that swept the bottom right corner of the book and climbed to the top of the thick spine.
“Ow,” I bit out, snatching my hand back from the book. I looked at my right hand, where I felt the sharp sting. A bead of lilac blood bloomed on the pad of my ring finger. I sucked in a breath at the startling revelation. Then shoved itdown.
Like last time, the solid gold leafing transformed into a river of molten gold lava. It flowed clockwise and continued to circle the book. There was nopullthis time.
I recited the memorized words I had discovered in Lucifer’s library—most of the book was written in Latin, but there were speckles of Old English that mentioned summoning. To ensure I kept this vital information intact, I had employed the memory palace technique, meticulously constructing a mental structure where each room housed fragments of the ancient text, its archaic words etched into the very walls of my mind's construct.
Reaching into the front pocket of my backpack, I pulled out the folded piece of paper. It was so soft. It felt like velvet. I had written the words down earlier today when I was getting ready in case I got nervous and couldn’t remember a word or phrase.
I probably should have thrown it into Google Translate, but I still hadn’t turned on my phone. I wasn’t ready to face the picture Ben had snapped of us one morning cuddling in bed before I had had a chance to brush my hair. We had just finished having a tickle fight, and my cheeks were pink from trying to move his massive body over mine. I protested after he took the candid snap, but it had become one of my favorite photos of us. The only person I had reached out to was my dad, letting him know I was back from the research project but crazy busy catching up between school and work and we would celebrate my birthday once things calmed down. I didn’t want him anywhere near Arch Cape. Not to mention, I wasn’t prepared to read or return all of the unread messages I knew were waiting for my attention. Messages I knew would be from Riley. The thought of facing him released a wave of nausea through me. I had promised I would go to the Bay City game. Luckily, that still wasn’t for a few more weeks, my twenty-first birthday had come and went sometime while I was in Hell. I’d come up with a relevant excuse by then. I wasn’t in the mood to cheer or celebrate anything.
I spoke the lines aloud, still unsure of what the first line meant:
“Ignis, cinis, tenebrae, princeps umbrarum
“In pages bound and tales retold,
“Summon the Prince, the fallen of old.
“Lucifer, rise from depths below,
“Through this tome, let your presence show.”
For a few staggeringly scary seconds, nothing happened.
Then its pages began to furiously flip and flutter as if an invisible wind drove them. Faster and faster they went until, quite abruptly, they stopped. The page it stopped on was as fine as papyrus but as dark as the deepest night. It seemed to absorb any light around it, turning it into a void of inky blackness. My fingers itched to touch it but I had learned my lesson last time, so I curled them away.
I had painstakingly examined this book before. How had I missed a page so distinct, so singularly different? The obsidian sheet bore no marking.
The room was silent except for my shallow breaths, echoing in my ears. As I leaned closer to inspect the page, something peculiar happened. The inky-black paper started to fold upon itself. My heart raced, and a cold shiver traveled down my spine as I watched, fascinated and alarmed.
The page contorted and twisted in an eerily deliberate fashion. It transformed into what I could only relate to the mouth of the ‘cootie catcher’. Lucy and I had made and folded together plenty of them when we were kids, convinced it could tell us our future. However, this had all its points facing me, resembling a paper mouth.
And then, it spoke.
“You again,” it accused. The voice wasn't entirely human—raspy, echoing.
“You speak? And English, of all things?” I had to steady myself on the display case.
“We speak a great many languages, mortal.” Its paper tongue slipped out. “Ah, but you are no longer mortal, are you now?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t see how or why that is any of your concern.”
“You are the one who summoned us. Thus, it is of our concern.”
“I didn’t try to summonyou.”
“We are aware. It is the master’s presence you prefer.”
“Where is he?” I glanced around the cootie catcher, half expecting Lucifer to pop out of nowhere. He did have a flair for the dramatics, after all.
“That is none ofyourconcern. What do you want?”
