“A Contract Until Dawn”
by Sita Bethel
“What’s your name, daemon?”
The demon ignored his summoner, staring at the sigils on the floor, scanning the rust colored markings for errors or weak points. The room looked unremarkable, barrels of apples and squash stashed in the corners, round, fat pumpkins beside them, the typical fall harvest. So many would-be necromancers and wizards tried to summon a demon during the last night of October.
A soft chuckle brought his gold eyes back up to face the wizard who’d pulled him into the physical world. He looked delicate, fresh glass still cooling from a blower’s wand. His long, black ponytail slung over his right shoulder and the gray eyes flashed in dim, wavering light of a dozen tallow candles.