The Summoning

I'd been looking forward to Halloween all year. It had always been one of my favorite days of the year, and college only sweetened the deal. It would be a big party night on campus, girls in seasonally-inappropriate costumes, overall inhibitions down.

So I was growing disappointed and apprehensive when, nearing mid-October, my friends one by one removed themselves from Halloween festivities plans. A family crisis, an invitation from a girl at another school. The reasons varied, but the result was it was looking increasingly likely that I would have no plans on the big night. Maybe I'd costume up and try to weasel my way solo into a party, but that didn't often work for a guy by himself.

It was only much later that it occurred to me this turn of events may have been orchestrated by someone. At the time it just seemed like rotten luck, a bad coincidence.

It was October 20, a Friday, when a tentative knock sounded at my door. I'd just gotten back from class, was about to wind down with an early beer. I peeked through the peephole and saw Alyssa looking shyly up at me. I opened the door.

"Hey," she said. Alyssa was a sort of friend, more like a friendly acquaintance. We'd had a few classes together, had studied together on occasion, but had never really hung out. She was very cute: short, with shoulder-length brown hair, big brown eyes, and curvy, with large breasts that she often kept snugly away in bulky sweater. Today was no exception to that. She wore a light brown sweater that hung loose off her shoulders, and had her hair in a small ponytail.

"Hey," I said, opening the door wider, allowing her to come in. "What's up?" It was a surprise to see her: we didn't have any current classes together, which were generally the only subject that put us in touch.

She came in, looking apprehensive. She sat down at my computer chair - the only place in my dorm room to sit, besides the bed, which I took - and set about making awkward small talk for a few minutes. How was I, how were my classes, any plans for Halloween, etc. This last she ventured with a little more force, and I perked up.

"Actually," I said, "Halloween's looking a little bleak at the moment. I have some costume ideas but all my plans are falling through. What about you?"

I was really hoping she'd say she planned to go to some big party, and that I'd be welcome to join. She didn't say quite that. But she looked very uncomfortable, blushing and looking at my desk, fidgeting with her hands.

"Well," she said. "I do have plans. Sort of. That's kind of why I'm here."

"Do tell." I tried not to seem too eager. I liked Alyssa. We got along well. I found her attractive, but I'd never tried anything with her, nor really thought too seriously about it. But this wasn't about me and her: I wanted something fun to do on Halloween.

"You're gonna think it's so weird," she said, looking at me finally. She was all but squirming in her chair. I wondered if she'd been sent here under duress somehow, as part of some kind of prank, maybe.

"It's Halloween, it's supposed to be weird, right?"

"Right!" she looked excited suddenly. "That's kind of the idea."

"So what's happening?"

"Well." She spoke slowly, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Me and... some girls. We have this idea. This one girl—actually she's a professor here, but one of my friends has hung out with her a couple times—she's into some... some weird stuff."

She paused, took a breath. She was blushing furiously.

"It's okay," I said. "I won't judge. What are your plans?"

"Okay. Don't laugh. I don't even believe in this stuff. It's just for fun, like. I think it might be cool. To see how she thinks it's done. But. She wants to..." And she mumbled something. It sounded like "summary semen."

"What?" I said.

Alyssa looked at me. Swallowed. "She wants to summon a demon," she said.

"Oh."

"Yeah. It's pretty weird. But it sounds kinda cool, right? Not that it will work. But how appropriate, on Halloween!"

"Yeah. I guess so," I lied. It sounded fully crazy to me. "So why do you need me?"

"She says we need a boy."

"For what?"

"For the... for the ritual."

"Like a sacrifice?"

She blurted a laugh. "No! I don't think so... I don't really know the plan. But not, come on, not a sacrifice."

"I think I'd like to make sure the plan isn't to sacrifice me."

"So you'll do it? I mean, if we're not gonna kill you?"

I thought about this. I was curious. I found I wanted to help Alyssa. But I didn't like the idea of being part of whatever "ritual" this was. It sounded like they wanted to sacrifice me.

"Can you get more information?" I said.

Alyssa smiled at me. She had a beautiful smile. Some of my resistance immediately fell away.

I thought she'd maybe go get some of that information and come back another day. But evidently she wanted to secure my participation that night. She stayed where she was, and started firing off text messages, presumably to her friend the professor, who was in charge of all this. I offered her a beer and she took it, and I got myself a second one.

"Okay," she said finally, after her phone buzzed a couple times in her hand. "Not a sacrifice." She looked up at me as if that would do it.

"Anything else?" I said.

She scanned the text.

"I'll just read it to you," she said. "She says: 'Not a sacrifice. It's nothing unpleasant. He might actually enjoy it. We just need a male present. It's a balance thing."

That was it, I guess. She looked at me, waiting.

Something about the term "male" she used didn't sit right. It was so scientific, or even... agricultural.

Her phone buzzed again.

"Oh!" Alyssa said. "She'll pay you."

"How much?"

She shrugged.

"Also," she said. "She's really hot."

I agreed. It wasn't just the money, or the promised hotness. Not entirely. Though those were factors: I was broke, I was single. But I was also curious. And I didn't have any better plans for Halloween.

Later that night, I got a text from Alyssa. And then another. Each time one came through, her "typing" dots appeared, and in came a barrage of messages:

Hey, she wrote.

This is weird, but...

Sylvia told me to tell you...

Sylvia's my friend

The professor

In charge of the ritual

She told me to tell you you have to stay "pure" for a full week before.

Um, I replied, when it seemed the barrage had stopped. What does that mean?

Her reply came quickly, in two more texts:

I guess it means you can't jerk off? Or... whatever else.

"Tell him not to cum" is what Sylvia said.

Oh, I replied.

Yeah. Thanks!

What the hell was that about? That was a very strange stipulation, and very inconvenient. A week was a long time for me to go without masturbating - I would have loved for there to be other concerns, but thus far this year I hadn't been so lucky. So what was I supposed to say? "Sorry Alyssa, but I can't go 24 hours without jerking off, so no deal." I'd already agreed. And I wasn't about to admit how hard that would be for me.

I considered just lying, and saying I hadn't. But I had this creeping doubt, completely irrational but no less persistent: what if, somehow, they could tell?

So I did it. Starting on the 24^th, I abstained. It wasn't easy. But I managed it.

Alyssa came to see me again a couple nights before Halloween. She seemed just as tentative, just as shy. She knocked lightly on the door, and I let her in, and again she sat in my desk chair, looking uncomfortable.

"What's up?" I said.

"Sylvia told me to check on you," she said. "To make sure you... followed the rules."

There was only the one rule that I had been told about.

"What's up with that rule?" I said. "Why does that matter?"

Alyssa looked stricken. "So you..." she started.

"No. I didn't. I just would like to know why it matters whether I..." I trailed off.

She shook her head. She looked relieved. "I don't know. But I guess it's important."

"What are we going to be doing then?"

She shook her head again. "I really don't know. I don't know much more than you do. I've just heard it's... an experience."

"So they've done this before?"

"I guess so."

"They've... summoned demons."

"That's what they said." She shrugged.

"Where are they now? The demons, I mean. Are they still just walking around out there?"

Alyssa laughed.

"No," she said. "It's not like that. I think it's more like... they channel them. Sylvia described it as like a really intense high almost, more than something external. I don't know, I don't really get it."

"I see," I said. "But this is important to you."

She looked at me pleadingly. "I... guess so. I'm curious. And I don't want to let them down, now that I promised."

"Okay."

She smiled at me again, and again I was at her mercy.

She gave me the information about where I was to meet her. She also gave me one last reminder of the rule, the very inconvenient rule that didn't make any sense, but was apparently of the utmost importance:

"Remember," she said as I was seeing her out. She whispered, blushing. "No... you know." She nodded toward my jeans.

"Got it," I said.

She smiled again. "Thanks." And she stood on her tip toes and kissed me on the cheek, then scampered off down the hall.

I had a hard time sleeping, the days leading up to Halloween. Whenever I did manage to doze off I had dreams of monstrous demons crawling up out of the floor, sniffing at me, determining I wasn't "pure" enough, taking various approaches to tearing me apart, eating me, etc. Sometimes I apparently dreamed of more pleasing things that I didn't always recall, but I'd wake with a raging hard-on, that I had to use all my willpower not to relieve. But I'd promised. And I held out.

The day of Halloween I was full of nerves. I wasn't meeting Alyssa until 8:00 that evening, and the day dragged on.

Ready for tonight? she texted, a few hours before.

I guess so, I replied

I can't wait ;)

What does one wear to a ritual where one may or may not be sacrificed? I said.

LOL, she replied. Then: You're cute. Idk. Dress casually, I guess.

I met her in front of the campus library. It was growing dark. Sounds of students having fun drifted into the distance in all directions. But the library, not surprisingly, was deserted.

Alyssa was waiting there when I arrived. She wore the same brown sweater and jeans she'd worn when first she'd come to me about this arrangement. She brightened when I walked up, and gave me a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you came," she said. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"I told you I would," I said.

"And you were good?" she said, breaking away, looking at me seriously.

"Pure, you mean?"

She giggled. "Yes. Pure."

"I was pure."

"You're the best. Come on."

She led me down a dark path to the left of the library. She pulled out her phone and shone its weak flashlight on the ground in front of her. Near the back we came to a stairwell that went underground, one I'd never noticed before. She turned to me and gave me a furtive smile, and led me down.

I followed. This felt appropriately culty. I realized I was more than nervous, I was scared. I didn't believe in demons, and didn't really think I was going to be sacrificed, but still. This was creepy.

The stairwell went down further than I would have guessed, into shadow. Echoes of our footsteps rang out in the cramped space. It smelled dank and wet. The light from Alyssa's phone died in darkness a couple meager feet in front of her.

At the bottom of the stairs was a heavy door. Alyssa knocked. It sounded too loud. I realized I was nervous we would be seen here, doing something we weren't supposed to be doing.

After a moment the door clicked unlocked and swung inward, creaking loudly. All I could see beyond was darkness, but Alyssa extinguished her phone light and went inside. Reluctantly, I followed.

I blinked, trying to will my eyes to adjust to the darkness. But I couldn't see much. Flickering candles in a space down the hall. Moving shadows. Someone whispered something I didn't catch and led Alyssa away. I moved to follow, but someone stepped in front of me.

This, I knew immediately, was Sylvia. She was tall, nearly my height. She held a lit candle in her hand, and by its light I could just make out her pale skin, dark hair, large dark eyes, blood-red lips. She wore a dark robe that made her body disappear into the shadows.

"You're Sam," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I said, unconsciously matching my tone to the solemnity of hers.

"Follow me." And she turned and walked down the hall, but didn't go all the way to room with the candles, where Alyssa had gone. She turned off to the right, into a doorway I hadn't seen previously.

"You did as you were told?" she said as we entered. Other than the candle she held it was utterly dark in this space, which looked to be no more than a closet. "You remained pure?"

"Uh... yes," I said.

"You seem unsure. It's very simple. Have you cum in the last week?" I couldn't make out her eyes in the dark, but I could feel them boring into me.

"No," I said. She made me very nervous.

"Very good. You will undress, and put this on." She held out what looked to be a white robe.

"I should..." I started.

"Undress, yes. All the way, please. When you're done knock on the door, and I will get you."

And she left, taking the candle, shutting the door behind her, leaving me in absolute darkness.

Okay, I thought. This was about as weird as expected.

The space was very small, as I learned as soon as I tried feeling around, to get my bearings. There was a shelf behind me that seemed empty, so I put the robe there for the moment while I undressed.

It's a weird feeling, taking all your clothes off in a strange place. Not knowing why. I felt cold as I took off my shoes, my sweatshirt, my jeans. As best I could I pushed them onto the shelf. I did the same with my socks and t shirt, and for a long moment stood there in my boxers, feeling cold and silly. What the hell was I doing here?

"Is everything okay in there?" came Sylvia's voice, from just outside the door.

"Uh, yeah," I called. "Just one sec."

And before I could give it any more thought I pulled my shorts down and stepped out of them. Grabbed the robe from the shelf and pulled it on, cinching it tightly around the waist. It didn't feel like a bathrobe. It was coarse, thin. I couldn't see it, but it occurred to me it was more like a monk's garment than anything else. Appropriate, I guessed, for the "ritual."

As ready as I was likely to get, I knocked on the door as instructed. Sylvia opened it promptly. She gave me an imperious smile I could just see in the dimness and gestured for me to come out. Then she led me somberly into the candlelit room at the end of the hall.

Given the silence, I hadn't expected a crowd. But arranged in a circle were eight women, seated with their legs folded in front of them. Between them, in white paint, was a circle, adorned with arcane-looking symbols: a chalice in the center, an open book by the empty space near the front, and one corresponding with each woman seated there. Each had a match on the other side: two chalices near the front, similar to the one in the center but smaller; flames next; then hands; and finally, closing the circle, were images of eyes.

I made brief eye contact with Alyssa, sitting at one of the hand icons, to my right. She was the only one who acknowledged my presence, and that with the briefest of glances my way, a subtle shift in her expression that suggested a smile. Then she resumed the posture held by the others: staring straight ahead, not a move, not a sound. Each had a single candle placed on the ground in front of them, near their icon. Each wore a black robe, similar to Sylvia's.

Sylvia led me to the center of the circle and indicated that I stand on the chalice. She took her place at the front, near the book icon. Behind her was an altar of sorts, an old-looking book held open on a lectern, an array of wax candles. She turned to me.

By the light of the candles I could see much better. And I could see that Sylvia was beautiful. Her dark eyes shone in the flickering light; her full lips seemed to swallow it in their blood-red lipstick. Her hair was jet black, falling in waves over her shoulders. Her black robe was cinched at her hips and reached nearly to the floor, her bare feet with red toenail polish just visible. The robe covered much of her skin, but still I could see the shape of her figure beneath it: curvy, with wide hips, long legs, large boobs. I wondered if she, like me, wore nothing under it.

I quickly tried to banish the thought. Standing in the middle of all these women, I was very conscious that only the coarse material of the robe shielded my nakedness. It was uncomfortable, but also exciting, and I did not want my body to betray that excitement.

Sylvia remained standing. She looked at me, looked at the group of women seated around us.

"We are here," she began, her voice strong and loud, filling the space, "to partake in an ancient ritual, passed down through generations of adherents. As sacred as it is secret, as powerful as it is mysterious. All gathered here will be changed by this experience. For the better, it is hoped."

It had the ring of a practiced speech. She went on:

"We are here to call forth a spirit, one venerated by our order since its inception. If we are successful, it will inhabit us, it will share its ancient wisdom, it will open our hearts and our minds to that which our bodies are ill-equipped to perceive."

She paused. Then she said: "Does anyone here object to this ceremony." It did not sound like a question. No one said a word. My heart raced. I wanted to speak, to ask what was happening, what was my role here, but I said nothing. My mouth was dry; speaking seemed beyond my capabilities.

"Very well," Sylvia said, and it was like a door slammed shut on my uncertainty, my questions: just like that, it was too late.

She turned to the altar behind her. In one hand she took a chalice, not unlike the image of one I stood on: it looked old, but well maintained, of sparkling silver. In the other hand she held the book. She stepped toward me, locking eyes with me.

"One of you has brought us an offering," she said, and internally I said "Oh, shit." But still I said nothing.

"If he is pure," Sylvia said, "his essence will unlock within us the secrets we seek."

She looked hard at me, almost in a challenge. Was I pure? she seemed to be asking. I didn't move.

"Rise, sisters, and take up your positions," Sylvia said.

Almost as one, the girls around the circle all stood.

The ones to either side of Sylvia, where chalices were drawn, stepped close to Sylvia, on either side, and stood waiting.

The next two, near the flame icons, grabbed long candlesticks from near the altar and returned to their positions.

The hands were Alyssa and her counterpart, who at that moment I realized I recognized as Alyssa's roommate: her name was Coleen; she was tall and athletic, her black hair done in long tight braids. The two of them stepped to either side of me and each grabbed one of my wrists. I flinched in surprise and by reflex tried to pull away, but their grips were strong. I looked at Alyssa and she looked back at me, a look of mild reassurance on her face, as if to say "Don't worry." I wondered if she'd been truthful about not knowing what this involved.

The other two, the eyes, stood somewhere behind me; I couldn't see what they were doing, if anything.

Sylvia stepped closer. One of the girls who'd sat near the chalice icons took the cup from Sylvia, and the two of them stepped aside. The candle-bearers stood back, holding their lights aloft, over the book in Sylvia's hand. I could see now the girls who had sat at the eye icons were in the corners of the room in front of me, sitting on elevated chairs I hadn't noticed, just watching.