Vine’s congratulations sounded so genuine that I nearly forgot about the fact that I was inside an enclosed space —a vehicle, no matter how roomy it was— and the fire was a living, breathing thing that would run out of control if I let it.
The slight pyrophobia I had started developing came back in full force, and I screamed bloody murder, which amounted to, “Shit!”
I leapt across the space between me and the recliner, grabbing a blanket. I fell to my knees in the process, but still managed to snatch the throw with the tips of my fingers and immediately began to beat the purple flames with it against the floor.
“Ah, mortals. Always such cumbersome entertainment,” Vine said, behind me and inside the circle. “Do you two not agree?”
“Practitioner, it doesn't exist in the physical realm,” Wol said.
It took a moment or two for Wol’s words to register, and I froze, looking at the brightly colored flame. It took another moment for my brain to comprehend exactly what I was looking at, and I reached out with my sixth sense towards the flame, while simultaneously bringing my unburnt hand near it.
Wol was right. The flame wasn’t hot at all. My hands didn’t register hotness, but rather I detected emotion coming off of the flame, much like how one of the wickermen and his ghost familiar had done.
“What the hell?” I gasped, wrapping my senses around it.
“It’s an eldritch flame, albeit, molded by your own desire,” Vine said. “Can you feel it?”
Hwari slunk out of the shadows, approaching the flame. ‘It rings with pain, Caller. With dread.’
I nodded without answering, trying to concentrate on analyzing the flame. The closer I brought my hand to the flame, the stronger the pain and dread could be felt through my mind. There was no question in my mind about what this purple fire did: it would do the same thing as Victor’s flame, except in the opposite fashion. Whereas Victor’s white fire from his grandfather exuded sleepiness, or the peace of a dying man, this purple fire would do the opposite; things would scream and claw at their eyes. The fire I summoned up was a sickly purple, its edges seeming to reach out in a tentacle-like fashion to try and latch onto something.
“Practitioner, the circle is straining,” Wol said.
I had been so focused on the flame that I neglected the circle. Wol was powering it, but that was only as long as I was consciously aware of it. I turned my attention back to the circle and found it dissipating. Then, to my surprise, I found that the eldritch fire was feeding off the magic in the circle, like fire and oxygen. Once the circle faded, unless I could provide the fire with a new source of fuel, it would dissipate as well. I sliced a hand in the air and forcibly cut the connection between the circle and me. Both the flames and circle disappeared.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, looking back and forth between Wol and Vine. “Was that evocation?”
“No, Heir.”
“It was a conjuration,” Wol said at the same time as Vine. Wol glared at Vine, annoyed. Vine smiled.
“May I?” Vine said, “After all, this was why I was summoned, was it not?”
Wol flicked his tail in his usual annoyed gesture. “It is your area of expertise, I imagine.”
Vine rubbed his hands together excitedly. “To answer your question, my Heir, no, it is not an evocation working. Rather, you conjured up eldritch flames.”
I stared at the floor where the flame had been, expecting soot marks. It was clean. “How is that different from evocation?”
“Evocators can create and manipulate elements, sometimes more than one. You are not creating, you are bringing it over. Also, once it’s brought over, you are unable to manipulate it freely. With some experimentation, you might be able to get it to behave in a certain way, but that will take preparation. Simply put, an Evocator will be better at you than summoning flames in every way, whether it’s speed, amount, or location. You are limited by the power of the creature trapped in your insignia, the knife.”
I looked at the eye creature trapped in the dimension within the flat part of my gravity knife. “You make it sound like I have a contract with this thing.”
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“Precisely,” Vine said. “You said you are a conjurer. Well, consider the creature the first of the beings you’ve formed a contract with. Ah, if I may, I would also advise figuring out what it’s price for the contract is. Otherwise, I assume it would attempt to turn on you.”
I was less enamored with the possibility of summoning eldritch flames and more worried about what price the creature in my knife would exact. “How do I communicate with it?”
“The creature feels young. I doubt it has formed enough sentience to express thoughts, wants, and feelings. It will reach out when it can do so,” Vine said, and twiddled his fingers together. “A Hallow with an outer creature! How exciting!”
I held the knife up and let the blade slide back in its sheath. “Wol, you said most summoned beings require regular payments? To keep them on retainer, so to speak.”
“Yes, it differs from one being to another. Sometimes, a monthly price of a cow intestines, other times, a yearly trek to an old shrine to pay respects. It would also depend on which services you outline in the contract,” Wol answered.
I turned to Vine. “So that means this guy has a price, too?”
“I’ve been meaning to get to that,” Vine said. “You are paid up until next year, so there is not much for you to worry about. You will also receive a six-month notice before payment is due, and an one month grace period if payment is late.” He tilted his head at me. “I also highly doubt you’d be able to pay at the moment, given the lack of general capabilities.”
I swallowed. “What happens if payment is late?”
“Many things, one of which is that I will no longer be the first point of contact,” Vine said, putting a finger to his temple and pretending to think. “The rest aren’t as horrible, though you would be replaced. I imagine we’ll have to reach out to—”
“That’s something we can discuss later,” Wol cut in. “We must focus on what’s in front of us.”
Vine’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, is that how it is, chat noir?”
“Goddamit, everything’s a subscription these days,” I grumbled. “So I can summon you whenever I have questions?”
“You are allowed one free consultation a month, up to six in a given calendar year. Every other summoning will exact a price,” Vine said.
Goddamit, I couldn’t even him again after this. This was some regular membership versus premium membership crap. No one owned anything anymore. Everything was a rental or a subscription now. I hated that. “Ok, the staff. I need help carving it.”
Vine’s eyes strayed over to the Mother Tree’s branch in the corner. “Oak?”
“Oak,” Wol said. “A Mother Tree.”
Vine looked around the room, gaze stopping on my bookshelf. “Unfortunately, this matter is complicated. Not only are you a Hallow, but you are a Shin. But you’ve also gone ahead and added an eldritch being to the equation. Given your current skill set, there is no possible way to carve a staff that would be perfect for you. My advice? Procure a basic conjuration and abjuration staff until this whole deal is over with.”
Crap. I’d been afraid of that. I looked down at my burnt hand. “I agree, but one small problem,” I said and waggled my damaged hand. “I can’t carve things yet. I only have one hand.”
“Oh my, you must really have a low opinion of me,” Vine said. “Heir. I believe I said procure. Not make. Procure. Anything you make at your current state will be better used as firewood, not a proper staff.”
“Procure? From where?” I said. “The only place I know of is the Wickerman’s store. I doubt he’s going to start giving staves out for signing up to be the Grigoire’s next body-double in training. Also, I have a feeling all his staves will be best used with fire.”
“Ah, yes. But I do believe you know of other locations?” Vine said and tapped his head. “Think, Heir of the Hallow line. Powers and bargains are not always in contracts, but in the trade of favors for material goods, promises to be paid later, and a sly tongue can always get you more than an honest working hand.”
Vine was talking about a list.
That gave me another reason to go to Sana’s Cafe, or the places listed in the Wickerman’s list. Not just to get information on this town, but also to procure myself a staff.
“I believe that concludes our business for this visit,” Vine said.
“Wait, I have more—”
Vine rolled his eyes, which made his features even more vague. “Yes, yes. You Hallows have a depository of never-ending questions. You can find more about who I am on page 468 of Infernal Contracts, as well as page 48 of Infernal Names.” He stood up. “I do suggest reading the Lesser Key of Solomon when given the chance, Heir. Your manners are a little… lacking.”
“Lesser Key of Solomon?” I asked. I had looked over the bookshelf and I didn’t remember that title.
“Well then, till next time. Best of luck in the trial, Heir,” he said, then he was gone the same way he appeared, quietly and without notice.
I looked down at the rapidly fading summoning circle.
“That didn’t go so bad, did it, Wol?”
“…Practitioner,” Wol said, padding over to me. “If a daevil has succeeded in making you think that his general disposition was less than unpleasant, then he has succeeded at his job.”
“Which is?”
“Distracting you from his ultimate purpose,” Wol said quietly. “What do you think that can be, when it comes to you in particular?”
I looked away as my spine grew cold at the thought. I didn’t want to think about that. I really didn’t.
Wol continued anyway. “And Practitioner… you must have realized, we never told him about the trial. Yet, he knew. He’s been watching, Practitioner. He came here, knowing what you needed.”
“But I’m the one who asked the questions…” I trailed off, frowning.
“Yes, and it worries me that he answered them so easily,” Wol muttered. “If it were truly important, he would have pushed back.”
I considered that.
All the candles had melted, and most of them had gone out during the ritual. The RV was completely black, and I could feel the chill creeping in from the windows through the curtains.
I shivered.
I imagined something watching me through the windows.
Yeah. I don’t think I could ever sleep with the curtains open at night ever again.