Poor little Dante is a sweet and eager little Demon, ready to get his very first assignment into the human world. In fact, he is so excited that he spends his days - and sometimes his nights when he gets away with is - in the lobby of the Department of Human Assistance. (Basically, they handle those humans who go conjuring demons, selling their souls, etc.) He sits, just waiting until his name is called. His presence is met with a mix of annoyance, anger and pity. Sometimes the receptionists there take some pity on him and provide him with snacks and water, and a blanket for those late nights when he falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes they will run him out. When this happens, Dante will simply bide his time, wait till the coast is clear, and he will sneak back in.
Days come and days go. His name is never called. You see, Hell doesn't exactly want him. He's just....simple and kind hearted. Not attributes a demon summoned t cause trouble in the world of human's possess. Unfortunately, they can't seem to justify shipping him out. Oh, they've thought about. How could they excuse getting rid of the little nuisance?
And then, one day the perfect opportunity fell right into their laps......
Fast forward to the human world for just a moment here.
Meet Ambrose. You see him there - the tall lanky pale fellow with the long white blonde hair in the black pleather. He's hunched over another drink. One he shouldn't be having, just like his last 4. He's angry and fretting. He's furious at someone. Who, it doesn't matter. (Truth be told, I haven't figured out that little detail, so we will just move on.) And being drunk, he's not exactly plotting anything good. The bartender orders him a cab and gently prods him to leave, telling him he has had more than enough. Ambrose's band plays there often on the weekends, so he is on friendly terms with all the employees there. He knows its true, and doesn't bother putting up any sort of fuss. This isn't his normal thing - he might enjoy a few drinks, but he knows his limits. Normally. But this isn't a normal night for him.
The weather isn't quite normal either. It's been a very humid summer, and the lightening storms have been phenomenal. And on this particular night, a storm was brewing. (Come on, of course it was! Ambiance, folks, ambiance. :P)
Ambrose lives with his friend Draven at Draven's old creepy Victorian family house. Draven also happened to be out of town, and was due home in 3 days. (Had he been there, I wouldn't be writing this story.)
Ambrose was dropped off at the very edge of the long winding driveway. The cab driver refused to get any closer to the house than he had to. And while he wasn't exactly thrilled to be staggering in the pelting down rain, he just thanked the guy and headed onward to the front door. After struggling to first find the right key, hold on it to it long enough to try inserting into the lock, and then actually getting it in the right way (he was cursing his lack of control at this point) Ambrose was inside.
Surveying the spinning room through blurry eyes for a moment, he got into his plan. Draven's house held a very large library. His family throughout the years had amounted a very vast and odd sort of collection. Things like taxidermy, funeral rites, poisons, torture practices and other oddities made up the majority of it, mixed in with Gothic Victorian novels and other such crime stories. There was a section Ambrose had stumbled onto one day unlike the others. There were 2 books, both ornately bound. They contained some sort of spells - many written in what Ambrose could only guess was latin. Draven told him that his great grandfather had been heavily into Necromancy and other dark arts. He was told firmly to not ever mess with them. Draven, knowing Ambrose would take him seriously never bothered to move them or hide them. Ambrose never intended to mess with them. But....this wasn't a normal night, or a normal situation. (And Ambrose was drunker than a skunk.)
Once in the library he swiftly (not really, he stumbled, stubbed a toe which he would have broke had the alcohol not softened the blow, knocked over a lamp) made his way to the books, and scooped them up. He sat down at the beautiful carved desk, and began to flip through. He was in truth at first disappointed. Perhaps he had a movie moment for himself pictured already in his mind. Flipping through spells to turn people into toads, or some such. The only thing that piqued his interest was finding an incantation to summon a demon to do your will. This, this one might work. He could use some little demon to torment the object of his rage. Well, maybe *torment* was a strong word. More like annoy, bother, disrupt. The more he thought about the less he really wanted to cause this person that many problems.
But still. They had to pay. Right?
Ambrose concluded that yes, they deserved it. He dug a candle out of the desk drawer. (Draven always used candles wherever he was at. He preferred them to lamps, often times.) He lit it, cleared his throat and began to read.
To be continued so that this post isn't horribly long.....
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