Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(6)
4. Contract Basics
4.1 MPD-Approved Templates
4.2 Common Mistakes
4.3 Contract Length: Brevity vs. Diligence
4.4 Language to Avoid
4.5 The Banishment Clause
4.6 Recommended Advance Preparations
It went on like that for thirty-two chapters and countless more subheadings, covering everything from selecting contractors to negotiation techniques to demon names. I thumbed through a few more pages, then unstuck the title page.
Legal Demonica: The Summoner’s Handbook
Presented by the Magicae Politiae Denuntiatores
Magicae Politiae Denuntiatores—a semi-secret international organization commonly known as the MPD or MagiPol. Not only did the MPD conceal the existence of magic from the public, but they also policed anything and everything that used or abused preternatural power. If this summoning guide was their literal rulebook, why not learn exactly how Uncle Jack was breaking the law? I was betting Chapter 3.3, “Location Requirements,” didn’t include residential basements as a legal option.
I carried my book selections to the leather sofa and curled up beside my plate of cookies. As I flipped The Summoner’s Handbook to the first page of text—“Foreword by Arnaldo Banderas, MPD Special Agent”—and lifted a cookie to my mouth, I remembered I wasn’t alone in the library.
My gaze shot to the inky dome. How had I forgotten about the demon? I briefly considered sneaking the books up to my room, but stealth wasn’t a strength of mine. Besides, all was quiet—no creepy laughter, no sounds of movement.
I took a big bite of my cookie and began reading. The minutes slipped past as I breezed through the book’s foreword and introduction. It wasn’t until the end of the second chapter that I noticed my eyes were tired.
Closing the cover, I mused about what I’d learned. Uncle Jack was definitely breaking laws, and if the MPD caught him, he’d face jail time or even the death penalty. The MPD didn’t mess around when it came to illegal summoners. My impression so far was that they’d rather people didn’t summon demons at all.
My gaze drifted to the dark circle again. The creature hidden inside was a killing machine; its primary function was murder, and if it ever escaped, it would slaughter every person it encountered until someone killed it.
I decided I didn’t want to be in this room any longer.
With numb fingers—why was it so cold in here?—I set my chosen books on the floor and, one by one, slid them under the coffee table. Unless someone decided to rearrange the furniture, they’d never know the books were there.
Satisfied, I got to my feet and took two steps, then remembered my half-eaten plate of cookies. I grabbed the plate, accidentally jarring it in my haste. The stack of cookies slid across the sleek ceramic surface and tumbled off. They hit the floor in a spray of crumbs, bouncing everywhere. One, rolling like a perfect little wheel, trundled across the hardwood floor.
It rolled, wobbled, curved—and disappeared across the silver line.
I gawked at the spot where the cookie had vanished into the black dome. Panic screeched in my head, and I jerked backward, expecting the cookie to come flying out, hurled like a doughy bullet into my eye socket. Could a demon throw a cookie hard enough to kill?
At that last thought, my panic waned. A cookie would hurt, should it be whipped with inhuman force into my soft flesh, but I doubted it could do serious damage. Maybe the demon realized that too.
Unmoving, I waited a full minute, but no sound came from the circle. The cookie did not reappear.
Breathing out, I cautiously scooped the fallen cookies off the floor and restacked them on the plate. I pondered the crumb-strewn hardwood, then used my socked foot to sweep the crumbs under the side table. Did I care that I was befouling Uncle Jack’s mansion? Not one bit. If I was contributing to a vermin problem, all the better.
Plate in hand, I crossed to the door, then looked back at the circle. Had the demon noticed the cookie enter its prison?
Curiosity sparked through me. Impulsively, I picked up a cookie, took aim, and lobbed it. It flew in a beautiful arc and dropped into the black dome.
I listened. No crunch or patter. No sound at all. Weird. I threw a second cookie. It too fell into the unnatural darkness, and again, nothing but silence. Either the interior of the circle was a gravity-free pocket dimension with no solid surfaces, or …
… or the demon had caught the cookies before they hit the floor?
I squinted at the circle, imagining what a demon might look like. Warily, I inched closer. Silence from the circle. I clutched my plate with the last five cookies and an assortment of largish pieces. Did I dare?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I flipped the plate toward the dome.
The cookies soared in a shower of chocolate, pecans, and crumbs that disappeared into the black dome. A distinct patter sounded as they hit the floor. Aha! So the demon had caught the first two cookies. Did that mean—
A soft scraping sound, then something flew out of the circle at warp speed.
The cookie hit me smack between the eyes.
I yelped, staggering and almost dropping the plate. Tears of pain sprang into my eyes. Whirling, I ran for the door, then skidded to a stop and ran back to grab the cookie off the hardwood. Didn’t want Uncle Jack to see that—
Oh crap. What if the demon hoarded the cookies to throw at Uncle Jack next time he came down here?