Goetic Justice

Orobas could see the future, to what extent remained vague and its powers definitely had their limitations, but Ryan was pretty sure that the demon could have prevented this scenario if it had really wanted to. Maybe this was all part of some larger game that was currently beyond his ability to grasp.

The big question now was when he would see Nahash again. Orobas was clearly unwilling to expend his own energy to manifest her now that the contract had been fulfilled, and so he would have to rely on Azazel, an entity that he knew very little about. It stood to reason that he would be grateful towards Ryan for his efforts, but demons were unpredictable creatures and Ryan would never have attempted to summon anything near as powerful as him under different circumstances.

Based on what little information he had been able to find, Azazel was a true devil. Not a pagan deity who had lost favor with its worshipers or a powerful spirit, but one of the Iyrin. Otherwise known as the Watchers or Nephilim, they were the antediluvian angels of Biblical lore, one of around two hundred such entities that had joined a rebellion against the Abrahamic God and had been cast out.

The stories were steeped in metaphor and warped by time and translation, harkening back to what Nahash had told him about the loss of knowledge from the flood. If that was a literal deluge or merely an allegory for something else he couldn't say. It was almost impossible to separate true accounts from myth and hearsay, but the common thread seemed to be that these Watchers had rebelled against the chief deity of the time, perhaps even the original deity. They had lost the war, and these fallen angels were cast out of paradise to walk the Earth amongst mankind, spreading forbidden knowledge as they went. There were conflicting reports about what they had actually done to deserve this fate, from tales of a militaristic coup, to them simply taking human wives and angering their God in the process.

The more Ryan learned about this secret lore, the more it interested him. Perhaps he would beg the question of Azazel himself if he ever met the creature in person. He almost hoped that he didn't however. The kid gloves were coming off, this wasn't a demon numbering fifty-fifth in some vague hierarchy, but a fallen angel akin to Lucifer himself. Who knew what the dangers were and what sacred rules he might be breaking, but if this was what it took to see Nahash again then he would accept the consequences.

***

Ryan climbed the ladder, his shoes slipping on the damp metal rungs, wind and rain buffeting him as it blew the trees what seemed like a great distance below him. He adjusted his ski mask and pulled his hood tighter, trying to shield himself from the wind, looking up at the water tower and the grey clouds above it. The platform was just a few more feet above him. This had been a terrible idea, he should have waited for a calmer night before he had attempted this stunt.

He struggled higher, his gloved fingers gripping the guard rail as he heaved himself up onto the walkway that ringed the water tank, pressing himself flush against the structure in an effort to avoid the howling wind. A part of him wanted to abandon the whole affair, but he was up here now, he might as well finish the job.

He took a can of spray paint from the pocket of his hooded jacket, shaking it and hearing its signature rattle over the sound of the storm, gripping the metal rail with a firm hand as he walked around towards the side of the tank that faced the town. He raised his arm, doing his best to replicate the design from memory despite the terrible conditions and his limited reach. At least the stormy weather would hide him from any prying eyes, nobody in their right mind would be out for a jog in this.

When he was done, he craned his neck to admire his handiwork. It was a little crude, but it would get the job done. He stowed the can and made his way back to the ladder, hoping that he wasn't about to take the express route down.

***

"Residents were shocked today to find what appears to be an occult symbol painted on a local water tower in full view of commuters on the interstate highway this morning, turning heads and causing a few minor accidents as it distracted motorists."

The camera panned away from the female reporter and over the congested highway to point at the water tower, a tank suspended on stilts that stood above the trees that surrounded it, the sigil of Orobas painted in red across its face.

"This might be easily dismissed as an unremarkable act of petty vandalism, were it not for the strange occurrences that have been widely reported as of late, with some going as far as to blame Satanic cults operating within the city limits. This comes only days after a supposed video of a goat woman, alleged to have been filmed at the border of the national park, was released online to much fanfare from the paranormal community. Debate still rages over the authenticity of the video, even drawing the attention of the popular television show America's Unsolved Mysteries, who are slated to film an episode on the subject later this season."

The news station switched from a panning shot of the water tower to a short clip of the trail cam footage, freezing the frame where Nahash was most visible, still a blurry and somewhat transparent figure as the voice of a male news anchor spoke over it.

"So what do we think of this? Is it real, or is it some elaborate hoax? We took to social media to ask our viewers what they-"

Ryan switched off the television, grinning to himself as he sat on his couch. To think that one person could have caused so much havoc. His antics had even made their way to the local news, every person who saw the broadcast would be feeding Orobas energy. Nobody seemed to have turned up many of the engraved plates yet, and nobody had stumbled across the clearing in the forest, but they would.

He missed Nahash terribly, it was torture to see her so free and wild for such a brief time, only to be separated from her immediately afterwards. He had to hope that she pined for him in much the same way, and that his efforts were feeding her and her kin the power that they needed to make their return.

He should start checking the forest soon. If she was going to turn up somewhere, it would be there. But as word spread about the occult happenings in the area, then more kooks would be out searching for evidence. Getting caught snooping around might blow the whole thing. There was going to be a camera crew out there too, apparently, filming some reality TV show about ghost hunting or cryptids. If they came across the summoning circle and the marked trees, or perhaps even caught an appropriately brief glimpse of a Seirim on camera, millions of people around the country might tune in.

Hopefully, Orobas would be satisfied by Ryan's graffiti work. He had scattered the tin plates around the city as he had promised, this was just a little bonus. A tip for exemplary service, if you will. He didn't feel too bad about depriving the demon of his servant, Nahash had seemed more like a slave than an employee. Now she would be free to do as she pleased and Orobas would have a far greater influx of power than he had anticipated.

He couldn't believe how well this venture had worked out, and he wondered why summoning wasn't more widespread. It had not taken any special knowledge or skill to get to this point besides doing a little research. Then again, perhaps he had been extremely lucky, or his choice of demon had been especially wise. There weren't many besides Orobas who would tolerate mistakes or breaches of protocol without taking advantage of the exorcist in some way.

The possibilities were limitless, the implications profound, and one day soon he would explore this new dimension of his reality that had been opened to him. But for now he had one goal in mind, a singular fixation, getting Nahash back into his arms.

***

Another week passed with no word from Nahash, and Ryan started work, finding his new position agreeable. His employers had cooled towards him a little since the meeting, but they were still friendly and seemed happy to have him working there. The demonic powers of persuasion must wear off eventually, but the first impressions would stick. His colleagues were friendly and he was back doing work that he enjoyed, there was nothing to complain about.

The metal plates had started turning up around the city and in the surrounding area, both the ones that he had made as part of his contract with Orobas and the ones with Azazel's sigil engraved on them. Hikers had come across the summoning circle in the woods too, and the footage of the goat-lady had gone viral, rapidly nearing two million hits. His prediction of a Satanic panic was starting to come true, with a mild hysteria gripping the less skeptical residents, spilling over into the local news stations and social media websites. The debates over the authenticity of the evidence that had been uncovered so far raged, with some convinced that there was a cult of devil worshipers roaming the streets and others certain that it was an intricate hoax. In a way they were both correct, there was a hoax, and there was at least one devil worshiper. Any discussion, whether it was positive or negative, only served to spread the message further.

Surely enough energy had been accrued now? It had been days, and there had been neither sign nor show of Nahash, nor any demonic activity for that matter. He was starting to get worried, it might be worth taking a trip to the clearing tonight. With any luck, if somebody discovered him there, he could pretend to be one of the mystery hunters who were no doubt pouring into the area in an attempt to capture their own footage of the Seirim.

His heart skipped a beat as he suddenly felt the familiar cold of an apparition again, and this time his furniture did not spontaneously vibrate across the room. It could only mean that Nahash was on her way back. He had tried to at least stay groomed and to be dressed properly whenever he was outside the bathroom, his apartment was rapidly becoming a demonic thoroughfare, and he never knew when one might appear.

As he got off the couch to stand eagerly beside the chalk circle, awaiting the smell of sulfur, the room began to go dark. It was a sunny afternoon outside, and there were lamps and light fixtures on in his apartment, but it was all fading. The room began to shake, pictures on the walls jumping from their mounts to clatter noisily to the floor, the empty mug that had been sitting on the edge of his coffee table falling to break on the floor as the surface that it had been resting on shuddered violently.

This was not Nahash. Ryan dashed towards his collection of wards and magickal tools, laid out for easy access on the nearby table. He adorned himself with the protective sigils and brandished his wand as he was buffeted by swirling winds, as if there was a tiny storm contained within the room, papers from his computer desk blowing about the apartment as he struggled to keep his printed incantations from joining them.

The darkness only grew blacker, the air becoming thick and oppressive, Ryan's eyes adjusting to the gloom as the stench of sulfur and the smell of smoke overwhelmed him. Fortunately, the Ring of Solomon warded off the choking fumes as he pulled the sweatband over his head, struggling back towards the summoning circle and into his protective triangle. He could scarcely see now, it was pitch black, what little light that his eyes picked up was barely enough for him to see the walls and the couch. He would have lit candles, but the rushing wind would have blown them out in short order. Just what the hell was happening?

He realized how frightened he was, his heart pounding in his chest, and he tried to steel himself as something formed in the far corner of the room. It looked like a shadow at first, visible even in the gloom, black on black as it filled the corner like a plume of smoke. As he stared at the shape, it began to glow, a molten light burning inside it like the mouth of a volcano as glimpsed through clouds of choking ash.

He heard faint laughter coming from every direction, as if hundreds of people were chuckling at his plight, jeering at him. It sounded far enough away that it couldn't possibly have been coming from inside the room, and yet he spun his head reflexively, in a literal blind panic as he attempted to pick out its source. The quaking finally stopped, Ryan had been afraid that it was about to bring his whole apartment complex crashing down, and he tried to regain some of his composure. It was paramount when dealing with demons, they would exploit weakness, and they would take advantage of a summoner who didn't show dominance.

The laughter seemed to converge in front of him, about where the black cloud was coalescing, his ears tracking what his eyes could not see. The dark shadow was growing, twisting and warping, taking on the shape of a person. It was large, too large, and getting bigger as he watched it with wide eyes. The ill-defined mass that seemed to be its head brushed the ceiling, then as it continued to expand its shoulders followed suit. It must have been nine or ten feet tall, crouching as it filled the room, its arms spread wide as if it were holding up the roof like Atlas beneath his globe.

Ryan recoiled, horrified but unable to flee as the demon towered over him. Even if his legs had obeyed the command, the triangle was the safest place for him to be right now, he had to stand and face this thing or risk exposing himself to greater danger.

The shadowy figure became more material as the fumes began to clear, Ryan better able to see it now, though the darkness still blanketed the room as if it had been cut off from the rest of the world. Two sharp points sprouted from its head like a pair of snakes, curling into two enormous and ornate spirals, the unmistakable horns of a ram or an ibex. Fur grew all over its body, a shaggy coat of long, black hair that obscured many of its features. It had the long beard of a goat and massive, cloven hooves that tipped its digitigrade legs, the same physiology that he had seen in Nahash and yet of far larger scale.

As it opened three eyes that burned like hot coals, two where one would expect them to be and one embedded in its forehead, their glow lit the room enough that Ryan could make the thing out in greater detail. Where Nahash was part woman and part goat, this demon was wholly the latter, with an elongated snout and no human features to speak of besides its vaguely humanoid shape. It could barely fit in the room, it was bent double, peering down at him in unnerving silence.

Resisting the powerful urge to flee the room in hysterics, Ryan called out in a wavering voice, doing his best to seem as if he wasn't about to soil himself in terror.

"W-Who are you, demon? State your purpose here!"

It opened its mouth and brayed, half the laugh of a human and half the eerie cry of a goat, its massive body shaking with the effort. When it was done, it spoke in a booming and guttural voice that had a flanging effect, as if two different people were talking at once. It was simultaneously like hearing the baritone voice of a man, and one of a goat that was attempting to mimic human speech. The result made Ryan's skin crawl.

"Little child of Adam," it boomed, its voice low and powerful enough to make Ryan's teeth chatter. "Do you not recognize that which you have roused?"

Its tone was humorous, somewhat mocking, and Ryan steadied his trembling hands as he gave his reply.

"Azazel?"

"You are toying with powers far beyond your comprehension, mortal, and even further beyond your ability to control." It twisted that last word into a threat, baring its tombstone teeth, Ryan having to stop himself from accidentally leaving the triangle as he took a faltering step backwards. Azazel's expression changed to a grin, and then it laughed again, shaking the wooden floorboards beneath Ryan's feet as its hairy chest rose and fell.

"I admire that quality in man, for without that self-destructive curiosity they would not have sought the secrets that we Watchers guarded so jealously. Fear is a healthy sentiment when faced with the likes of me, child, but I would settle for respect. Calm yourself."

Ryan did his best, wiping cold sweat from his brow with his sleeve, keeping his feet planted firmly in the triangle all the same. Azazel noticed, cocking its goat head at him, that smile that had all the warmth of a corpse ever present on its lips. This was out of control, the train had gone off the fucking rails and had barreled through a fireworks factory, what the hell was he going to do if this thing turned hostile?

"You need not cling to your triangle, novice. The rites of ancient kings hold no sway over me."

"Why are you here?" Ryan asked, craning his neck to look up at the furred beast. Its body was so muscular, what he could see through the long hair at least. Something with that much mass should have gone straight through his floor and all of the apartments below it, but much like Nahash it seemed to weigh only as much as it needed to, and not an ounce more.

"It seems that for the first time since I fell to this bountiful earth, I have found myself indebted to another, a mortal no less. You are not a magician, nor do you seek my favor. It appears that you have woken me from my slumber and fed me with enough power to leave the immaterium merely as a means to an end. Tell me, Ryan Cutter, to what end?"

"I want Nahash," he announced defiantly, Azazel's grin widening as it reached a clawed hand down to stroke its scraggly beard. It watched him as it considered its reply, apparently amused.

"Is that so? By chance, you have encountered one of my daughters, bound to serve another demon, and all that you have done has been in an effort to free her? How could you be sure that she would not simply vanish into the forest once unbound?"

"I couldn't be sure, but even if she doesn't want to stay with me, she deserves to be free. She deserves to dance around bonfires, to live wild under the moon. I could see how much being bound to Orobas sapped the joy out of her."

The monstrous demon cocked its massive head at him, as large as that of a damned moose, as if trying to understand what must be bizarre motivations from its perspective. This entity was pretty close to being a god, with power that Ryan couldn't even begin to comprehend, and yet its probably long-awaited resurrection had been merely incidental.

"What manner of mortal are you that you would risk your life, nay, your immortal soul in this foolish venture? You attempted to summon a demon with no experience and no training, using only the barest instructions that you had obtained from grimoires and hearsay. Against all odds you succeeded, then you consorted with your demon's familiar and conspired to resurrect a Watcher in order to free her. All of this with no guarantee that you would be given what you desired. You know my name and my sigil, you know my reputation. I am the originator of sin and the architect of the fall, so they claim. Some would call that reckless, insane."

Ryan shrugged his shoulders dismissively, at this point he was beyond fear, a kind of impetuousness overtaking him as he stared the beast down.

"Guess I didn't have anything left to lose, and now I only have one thing left to gain. If you're able to manifest here, then my plan worked, and it means that Nahash and the other Seirim have a new source of energy."

"You want to know where she is," Azazel mused, "however I must remind you that the concept of where is meaningless in the immaterium."