Feeling refreshed and focused, Samedi stood up from his chair, straightened his sleeves, and moved over to a black, freestanding cabinet. Inside was a collection of various Vodou objects: candles, talismans, stones, crosses, feathers, bells, and remnants of the deceased, among them the vial of blood he had taken from Chloe.
Selecting one of his rarer acquisitions—a book rumored to have only four existing copies—he lifted it from the cabinet and brushed his dirty, crusty fingers over the mottled leather binding. There were rumors that it had been written in Hell itself. It served as a diary, written by an unknown author, of authentic demons and hellhounds that could be summoned only by the truly gifted.
And Samedi was very, very gifted.
He opened the book to a previously marked chapter and started reading. This section dealt with some of Hell's more powerful and dangerous demons, which the author suggested not be summoned, lest the summoner risk their life—they were the monsters that ate monsters. He liked this, as he wanted one that was especially vicious. Tracing his long nails down the yellowed page, he stopped on one called Bakasura and read its summary.
Close, but he wanted one that was even more bloodthirsty, so he continued flipping through the pages. After a few minutes of scanning, he settled on a particularly nasty choice and smiled. "Yes. I think you will do quite nicely."
Setting the book aside, he sifted through the items in the cabinet. Carefully choosing the ones he needed, he arranged everything on the floor next to the summoning circle, which he had cast in blue paint on the first night he moved in.
Once everything was in place, he stepped back to assess the setup, then walked over to the wall by the door and flipped the light switch off, plunging the shack into darkness.
A few moments later, a flash from a match lit up the darkness, briefly pushing the shadows into the far corners. Lowering the match to ignite the wick of a tall, black candle, Samedi illuminated the small room with a soft, flickering glow. Shaking his wrist to snuff out the match's flame, he dropped it into an ashtray next to his knee, which was already filled with previously discarded matches.
Slipping a chosen talisman onto his wrist, he took the vial of blood and opened the stopper. Slowly, and with great care not to waste a drop, he tipped the vial over so that the blood seeped out and splashed upon the blue paint circle. The blood hissed and fizzled upon contact, as if poured into a skillet on a hot stove. He drew a pattern in the blood with careful precision, creating a specific design: the rune of the demon he was about to call upon.
Next, with his eyes closed, he began repeatedly chanting a summoning spell he knew by heart. In moments, the circle and blood rune began to glow and pulse, as if alive, with a dark violet light. With each repetition of the chant, his voice grew louder and more powerful, and the light's pulses started to match his rhythm.
Suddenly, as he snapped his eyes open, he uttered the final line of the binding spell in English.
"Come to me, Canis Infernus Rygen, come and be my slave!"
The circle and rune burst into flames.
Within the Gluttony ring, one of Hell's seven circles, the hellhound known as Rygen snarled softly while lazily chewing on the flesh of his latest victim—a lowly imp from the Wrath Ring, who had chosen the wrong moment to visit Gluttony, making him an easy target for the voracious beast. He had dragged his prey into a filthy, narrow alley squeezed between two towering tenement structures, where refuse and bone fragments littered the cracked ground. The sickly sweet stench of sulfur and decay hung heavy in the scorching air, mingling with the metallic tang of spilled ichor that pooled beneath his massive form.
Rygen was well-fed, as he was never picky about what—or who—he ate. Swallowing the last morsel of the imp's flesh, he let out a loud, rumbling belch that echoed off the grimy brick walls, laughing at the disgusted looks from the other denizens nearby. His blood-red eyes and soulless black pupils followed the citizens as they steered clear but otherwise ignored him while they carried on with their daily business. He grinned as he chewed with blade-like fangs soaked in black blood, wondering how they would taste. After all, he loved to chase a tasty meal with a long drink of frightened demon blood, savoring the terror that seasoned it.
With a loud, exaggerated yawn that revealed the depths of his throat, he stretched his elongated, triangular frame. His body was covered in charcoal-colored, leathery skin with coarse black hair that cascaded down his neck and back like a lion's mane. His broad, stout shoulders narrowed to powerful hind legs, resembling a Doberman but three times larger, while his face and muzzle bore wolf-like features. He had disproportionately large jaws capable of crushing bone and soul alike. Steam rose from his hide in the infernal heat, and his claws scraped against the brimstone ground as he shifted position.
Suddenly, something felt wrong—a foreboding sense, a tug at his very core that made his hackles rise. Sharp and alert, he lifted his triangular ears, and his whip-like tail flicked behind him as every muscle in his body tensed instinctively. Using his long muzzle, he sniffed the sulfurous air, and his large, crusty nostrils flared wide as he stood to his full height. He turned to face the source of his unease and let out a low, threatening snarl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Unlike typical hellhounds and other dog-like creatures, he didn't bark but either growled menacingly or bellowed as he attacked, a sound that could shatter the resolve of most lesser beings.
A low hum called to him like a siren's song, irresistibly pulling him forward. The very air around him seemed to vibrate with otherworldly energy. His legs moved against his will, carrying him through the twisted streets of Gluttony and beyond the town's borders, past the smaller homes and markets at the city's edge. He bellowed in fury and snapped his jaws at an unseen force that effortlessly lifted him off the ground and painfully dragged him toward the part of the underworld where no creature dared to wander, including himself.
Trying with all his might to dig his long, sharp claws into the dirt and brimstone, he desperately struggled to stop his momentum, but it was all in vain. The invisible force was too powerful, too ancient. Screaming in rage and agony that echoed across the rings of the abyss, he felt his form stretch, almost comically, beyond any physical limit before it snapped like a rubber band and hurled him through the air and out of the Gluttony Ring. Other inhabitants paused in their eternal suffering, entranced by the spectacle of the mighty Rygen being torn from their realm.
A few even cheered.
The momentum carried him far away, through the void between the rings, until he reached the one thing in the underworld that every sinner and hell-born soul truly feared: Porta Ad Inferos—the Gateway to the Abyss.
Erupting from violet, luminous flames that filled the small room with their swirling presence, Rygen tumbled into existence within Samedi's summoning circle. Steam wafted around the hellhound's body, rising high and filling the small shack. Disoriented, he tried to stand but stumbled and fell face-first onto the cracked wooden floor.
He screamed, his voice filled with oily, gurgling rage: "Cur me vocasti, tu viles sacculus carnis?"
Samedi, now standing ten feet from the circle, smiled with satisfaction at the success of his summoning. "Welcome, Canis Infernus Rygen, devourer of flesh."
Hearing the cruel voice behind him, he quickly rose, turned sharply, bared his fangs, and hissed, "Quis est Agnus es?"
The Vodou priest understood him, but to test his control over the beast, he announced himself with a command, "I am Samedi, and I have summoned you to be my slave. From now on, you will speak in my common tongue!"
Rygen responded by trying to claw at the man's arm, but the circle contained him.
Samedi sneered and twisted the band on his wrist, causing pain to shoot through the demon's veins, searing and hot.
The hellhound's lips curled back as he snarled, baring his fangs, but the message had been well received.
"My spell has bound you, demon, and you will obey!" Aware of this demon type's powers, he issued a new command. "Take on your human disguise."
With eyes glowing in the darkness of the shack, Rygen felt his body responding involuntarily, pulling his demon dog features inward. In the beast's place now stood a tall, elegant, dark-skinned man dressed in a tailored black suit, slacks, and a tie. He noticed a mirror hanging on the wall behind his captor and gazed at his reflection.
He was almost impressed.
Tilting his head curiously as he inventoried his new look, he realized that he no longer felt any discomfort from the summons, and it calmed him enough that he was able to ask again with a little more finesse, "Why have you summoned me, human?"
"Master." Samedi played no games. "You will refer to me as Master."
Rygen shifted his glare to the Vodou priest and repeated the word with pronounced distaste. "Master, you have pulled me from the very bowels of Hell, thrown me into the maw of Porta Ad Inferos, painfully, I might add, and forced me to stand here against my will. Why?"
"The one I serve commanded me to bring you forth to subdue and control a demon unlike any I have ever seen or heard of before. You will find and break her so that I can bind her."
"A demon? Not bound by anyone?" He mused, his eyes widening in surprise. "And how did it come to be here—Master?" The pause was intentional, and laced with venom.
"She will answer that once we have her under our control. She is aligned with a man called Angel—"
"An actual angel?" Rygen's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"No, a human who uses that name!" Samedi scowled. "And you will never interrupt me again!" He tugged on the necklace, and Rygen grimaced, preparing for the agony. But none came. Odd.
The Vodou priest continued, "You will eliminate Angel and bring her to us."
The demon inhaled deeply. The tug of the necklace hadn't harmed him, but he had flinched, and the fact that this human could affect him so swiftly filled him with growing rage.
Still, the man's demands raised a question. "I will be allowed to taste human flesh?"
"Oh, yes, once you find Angel and kill him, you may eat your fill."
This piqued his interest: the priest was offering him a chance to taste the one meat he had never tried before—human. He knew he was trapped here, under his master's control, until Samedi decided to set him free or until he could break free and massacre the foolish human who had ripped him from Hell.
Rygen held no reservations in revealing his thoughts to this human. "Know this well, Master: should ever the binding between us break, I will strip the skin from your body and lap up your blood slowly." His blue eyes pulsed with menace. "But what you command of me, I will enjoy doing, with relish."
Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, Samedi gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Save your idle threats, beast. I have dealt with others like you before."
"There are none like me." The hellhound glowered.
"Whatever." The priest shrugged. "You have your orders and will carry them out with haste. We want the demon bitch as soon as possible."
There was something the man mentioned that confused Rygen, "You said she is different? How?"
"She attacked my men to save a bunch of children. No demon I have ever encountered has tried to save lives, only take them. She is unique."
The demon tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not so unique, Master. Some in our realm are strangely benevolent, even having altruistic ideals. It's sickening, but not unheard of."
Samedi stroked his chin. "Intriguing. Perhaps before you return to Hell, I will have you entertain me with stories about these odd denizens of your realm."
Brow creasing, he didn't bother with a response, and the priest didn't care. "Now, I trust you can sense your own kind on this earthly plane?"
"With ease, Master, and anyone it has been in close contact with will have its scent upon them. I will find this Angel in that manner."
The Vodou priest was pleased. "Excellent." He waved toward the door. "Make haste. I want this demon now."
"I must obey you, Master, but…" He sighed, disgusted with himself for revealing any disadvantage. "The pull of Porta ad Inferos has weakened me. If this demon is as special as you claim, I must be at full strength. I smell carrion and the scent of earthly beasts nearby. Allow me tonight to feed and regain my full power, and I will hunt your human before the moon rises again."
Samedi closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Of course. Demons pulled from Hell are weakened by the journey. I must not let my own ambitions get the better of me. He accepted the demon's request. "Very well, so long as you do not fail me, beast, or I will send you back to your hell in pieces if you do. Are we clear?"
"You've made it very clear, Masssster." Rygen elongated the word with a dark warning before offering a half-mocking bow. "Now, if you would release me from the circle, I shall go feed and fulfill your wishes."
Touching his necklace, Samedi mumbled a spell too soft to hear. After a moment, he locked eyes with the demon. "You are free of the summoning circle."
Rygen immediately shifted his body, allowing his hellhound form to emerge, transforming him back into the powerful beast he preferred. He stretched lazily, deliberately taking an extra moment to annoy his captor, but let out a snarl when he saw the Vodou priest reach for his band. Teeth still bared, he stepped past him and headed to the shack's door.
There he paused, and with a grin of razor-sharp teeth, he glanced back. "I'm waiting."
"Petulant demon," Samedi cursed. Nonetheless, he went to the door and opened it.
Rygen let out a low, sharp laugh, mocking the priest. Then, before Samedi could react, he bounded out the door and into the darkness to find his first earthly meal.
As the hellhound disappeared beyond the trees, Samedi's frustrated frown twisted into a cruel smile. A feeling of actual giddiness filled his soul, eager for the gift his slave would soon bring him.
***
Footnotes: ¹ "Cur me vocasti, tu viles sacculus carnis?" - Translation: "Why did you summon me, you vile sack of flesh?" (Note: Rygen's first words upon being summoned, expressing both confusion and contempt for his summoner.) ² "Quis est Agnus es!?" - Translation: "Who are you, lamb!?" (Note: "Agnus" means lamb, used here as a derogatory term. The grammar is colloquial demonic Latin rather than classical.)