The Parisian Codex

21 - Never Summon a Demon

"Triggering the end of the world with a book? You've got to be kidding me."

Zagan sighed and leaned forward a little more. "What do you know about the Apocalypse?"

"The Savior will return to Earth, the righteous will be rewarded, and the rest will be punished?"

"But before that, the heavenly hordes and the army of demons will clash in a fight to the death. And of course, since the dice are loaded, the demons will be slaughtered to the last one."

"Excellent news."

"There are quite a few of us in hell who don't share your enthusiasm."

"What does this have to do with the codex?"

"I'm getting to that. So, as I was saying, there are quite a few of us who don't share the general enthusiasm for the Apocalypse. And we've decided to take matters into our own hands to make sure we never have to face it."

"How?"

"The Apocalypse is a bit like a cake: one needs several ingredients, a few tools, and a recipe to create it. One of these ingredients is the codex—a book closed with seven seals, and which can be read in both directions. Sound familiar?"

The enormity of his statement left me speechless. The Apocalypse was a cake and the codex...

I shook my head, and Zagan let out a disappointed sigh. "Let's start at the beginning," he suggested. "At least the beginning for you—otherwise we'll be here too long. We're in the 14th century. The codex is in the possession of a small group of scholars and sorcerers who have taken refuge in a rickety castle in the middle of nowhere to protect themselves from the Inquisition. I'm going about my own business when one of the sorcerers calls me. I hate it when a human takes such liberties with me..." He took the time to give me a dark look before continuing. " ... and that's why I decided, that day, to make the sorcerer wait. Bad idea. When I got there, the castle was burning to the ground, the scholars were all dead, and the codex was gone."

"My master would never..."

Zagan cut me off with a wave of his hand. "The attackers' trail was still fresh. I tracked them down within hours, but they no longer had the codex. As they refused to tell me what they had done with it, I eliminated them, all except their leader. I possessed him, which isn't as much fun as torturing someone into talking, but it's a lot more practical. For a moment I had access to his recent memories, before my essence burned away the last traces of humanity in his body. This is how I learned that the codex had been handed over to a monk from the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, near Paris. He and a band of fanatics wanted to assemble all the ingredients necessary for the Apocalypse. Convinced that they would be among the chosen ones saved by Christ's return, they had decided to prepare for his coming, to launch the celebrations..."

"And you didn't want the Savior to come and kick your ass," I said.

"Of course I didn't! Honestly, who'd want to bring about the end of the world? Free the Four Horsemen to ravage the Earth? How many wars have you been through? Have you seen what men are capable of? Can you imagine what the Four could do?"

"I've been through too many wars because you cursed me!"

In Olga's turquoise jacket, Zagan shrugged. "You were between me and the book. What was I supposed to do?"

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"That's too vulgar."

"That didn't stop you from slaughtering others."

Zagan gave me a strange look. Was the demon ... surprised? "I broke the necks of the three men guarding the abbey entrance," he said slowly. "I killed your master too. I don't take any chances with maniacs like him. But the others, those who tried to stand in my way, I cursed in various fashions. Killing loses its appeal after a few millennia."

"When I returned to the abbey, they were all dead!"

There was that strange look from the demon again.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you see the bodies?"

"They were already buried."

"Didn't anyone explain?"

"No one spoke to me," I mumbled.

Seven centuries later, I could still hear the bitterness in my voice. "I regained consciousness in the dead of night in the woods. When I tried to go back to the abbey, the porter refused to open the door. The father superior came to tell me that my master was dead, that he and I had brought evil within the walls, and that I no longer belonged there. I asked to speak to a friend. They told me he was dead—that everyone in the demon's path was dead. They threw me a bundle of clothes and told me never to return."

"And you didn't understand why?" said the demon.

"Father Superior said that..."

"That a 'demon' had killed them, yes. But for him, what is a vampire if not a kind of demon?"

I leap to my feet. "I don't have time for your cruel games."

Leaving one's magic circle before dismissing a demon is one of the worst mistakes a novice sorcerer can make. Right after "discussing with a demon" and, of course, "summoning a demon." I was past caring about that. With the tip of my foot, I breached the circle's outline and once again felt the magical protection collapse. I expected Zagan to pounce on me, but he didn't move. He was still staring at me with that strange look in his eyes, and I felt centuries of rage rising in my throat. Forgotten were the incantations engraved in my memory and the elementary rules of caution. I threw myself at the demon with all the speed and power of a multi-century-old vampire. He greeted me with a backhand blow. His slap cracked my cervical vertebrae, and I went sprawling down the alley.

I jumped to my feet before I could regain my composure. The garden spun around me, and my face returned to the ground. When I came to, the demon had disappeared, and two new figures were striding toward me.