Sleepily, Patrick opened his eyes, and smiled in contentment. Gently, he ran a hand down the curved side of the woman lying next to him. Human, ungifted, much too strong-willed to break easily, she was no use to him as prey, but he'd noticed her anyway, the strong sensuality she broadcast in every gesture, every shift in her expressive features. She carried somewhat too much flesh on her bones to fit society's current opinion of beauty, but any man who couldn't see what this woman had to offer a lover deserved to miss out on it. The light of the setting sun washed over her tanned skin, her shoulder-length brown hair, tingeing it all with crimson, picking up highlights not present in artificial lighting.
He thought she might even have been willing, even for only the few days he'd be here in this city; he might not have needed the mental suggestion that had ensured she couldn't reject him.
She stirred, moving towards his hand with a small contented noise, and rolled onto her back to look up at him with a warm smile. Patrick lowered his head to kiss her, hand caressing her ample breasts, the soft roundness of her belly.
“Mmm... oh, god, I wish I could stay here with you, but I'm supposed to be at work, I'm on the night shift this week. After tonight, I have the weekend off, though...”
He considered charming her into forgetting about other obligations, but he'd enjoyed the day so much, she didn't deserve that. He could make sure she kept coming back to him until he moved on, though.
“Tomorrow?” he murmured. “I'll take you out to dinner, and afterwards we can pick up where we left off.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She stretched, which did fascinating things to her profile, and after a last kiss, untangled herself. “You can stay here, if you like. It'll save you looking for a hotel.” She smiled again. “And I'll know where you are.”
So generous, so trusting... it took almost no power to nudge her into the offer.
“Thank you.”
She vanished into the bathroom; he stayed where he was, uninterested in the details of her personal hygiene, no matter how much he appreciated the results. He watched her dress, noted the flirtatiousness of every move, the sexiness of the black lace underwear that no one else would see but he would know was there. Vivid, fiery red would suit her, too. He made a mental note to see about getting her some, so he could see her in his colours.
Only after she left did he bother to get up and find his clothes.
“Master?” Sikial said tentatively, peeking in the door.
“Yes?”
“I have a message for you, master, from a greater one than I. It asks that you call it here to speak to you. It has an offer for you, and says it would be best to discuss it with you personally.”
This was a new development—he couldn't recall any demon ever initiating an exchange before.
“I need its name.”
“I've been given that, to give to you, master.”
More and more interesting. What could a demon want so badly that it would give him its name, and thus a great deal of power over it?
Normally, he didn't bother with trivialities like pentagrams, but given the irregularity of this situation...
He headed for the kitchen, and rummaged around. The first thing that came to hand was a bag of flour; not ideal, but it sufficed to create a thick line on the linoleum; he checked that it wasn't broken anywhere, before he set the flour aside and positioned himself next to the circle.
The words of summoning were a formality, a way to focus and make sure he invited the proper demon into this plane.
In the centre of the circle it took shape, as a classical satyr; it inspected its prison briefly, and a frown flickered across its face, but it turned a smile to Patrick.
“Thank you for allowing me the chance to speak with you.”
Patrick nodded. “You have my attention. What is it you want?”
“A bargain, which will be to the benefit of us both. I know of a way to give you the power to control electricity.”
Patrick's eyes widened. “That isn't an elven ability.”
“Normally, true,” the satyr conceded. “But there is sufficient similarity to elven power that, I believe, it would be possible to give you a great deal of influence over electricity. Lightning would, I suspect, be too strong to chain, but in smaller amounts...” It trailed off suggestively.
Patrick licked his lips. All his bargains with Sikial and the others had done is reinforce natural elven abilities and free him from the need for light to draw power from, as long as he had the opportunity to draw it from Sikial instead; nothing he could do was impossible for another elvenmage. To have a power no other elvenmage had, though...
“There must be a high price.”
The satyr smiled. “Free me for one night, to hunt as I wish. This is a thing which will require the power of death, and I know the right ones to choose, that will allow me to gather that power. A sister and brother, and their other brother and his friend. The lives of these four will be enough.”
“What do you gain from this?”
“The deaths of those whose lives will give you this power.”
Patrick considered asking why, or who the people in question were, but he decided he was probably better off not knowing exactly what they'd done to annoy a demon to that degree. And he really didn't want to know their names, if they were just going to die anyway.
“For one night,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “For this coming night, I will give you the freedom of this world, to take what prey you choose, anyone except myself. And in return, you will give me the power to manipulate electricity, to the greatest extent you can.”
“You have my gratitude,” the satyr said, and that grin showed very sharp teeth. “I will come tomorrow night, and fulfil my side of the bargain.”
“That will do.” Patrick nodded in satisfaction. “Go.”
The satyr immediately vanished from the pentagram.
Patrick looked down thoughtfully at the flour all over the floor, then sighed and fetched the broom to clean it up. He had no desire to keep walking through it, from now until Pamela came home, and it was less effort than convincing her to do it without asking questions.
A shower might be nice, he decided once he'd finished, long and scalding hot, and allowing him a chance to reflect on what he could do with his new ability.
Somewhat belatedly, he wondered whether he should have declared the Lioren mage, the annoying human, and the black wolf off limits as well. He considered that, while he turned on the water and stripped.
No, he concluded, as he stepped into the steaming water. What were the odds, realistically, that of the six billion people in the world, any of those three would be among the ones this demon wanted? And if, by some astronomical chance they were, well, it would be disappointing to be denied a satisfactory revenge, but knowing that their deaths had contributed to his power so directly would go a very long way towards making up for it.