Pact (3 of 6)

The dead cat had told him most of what he needed to know. He'd found it in the garbage bin, tied up in a plastic bag. It had quite clearly been bled to death. Cats were good for sacrifices, if what you were trying to summon wasn't too big. They were smart enough that their spiritual energy was reasonably attractive to minor nasties. Their size meant that you could probably get enough blood from just one, but they weren't too much trouble to restrain. You didn't really want to have a cat hanging around after you summoned a demon - they tended to react badly. At least with a dog their loyalty to you would keep them in check. And for some reason people tended to get more upset when they dog vanished or turned up dead. It was almost like most people expected that their cat would one day wonder off or get into trouble.

Based on the way the cat had been bled, whoever did it was inexperienced. Which probably meant there were only a handful of possibilities. The fact its neck had been broken - almost certainly before it had been bled - really only left one option. But if his past experiences had taught him anything, it was that it was better to be safe then sorry.

He pulled an old bag of tobacco from the glove box and started rolling a cigarette. Like playing a piano, his fingers remembered the motions his mind had long since forgotten. He tapped a few aspirin from a small container - swallowed two and crumbled the third into the tobacco. If it was the salicylic acid, then in theory the aspirin would be just as effective as meadowsweet, if not better.

He waited a few minutes for the aspirin to start getting into his system, and headed to the front door. He paused to light the cigarette before ringing the doorbell. After a few moments, a Britney Spears clone opened the door.

"Hello. My name is Ralph Fiennes. I'm looking for Anna Copeland"

"My sister isn't here" The girl blank for an instant, and then just looked bored.

"And your parents?"

"They're away as well. They've all gone up to see my grandmother. She's quite ill. I stayed because I've got a big test tomorrow, and someone needed to feed the cat."

Dante was almost convinced. Which, given how bad the story was, was even more evidence that his guess about what had been summoned was correct. And that the aspirin theory was sound. He took a drag on his cigarette, somehow managed not to choke, and blew a cloud at the girl. Her face screwed up like a walnut, and the imp perched on her shoulder was revealed in the smoke. With a wicked grin of satisfaction, he grabbed the girl and pushed her inside.