All the books, trash, and other miscellaneous junk had been removed from the center of the room and piled haphazardly around the sides. An intricate circle was painted in black across the floorboards. Burning candles guarded the perimeter of the circle, filling the room with the heavy smell of incense. The sorcerer sat facing away from him before the circle. Devon actually had no idea that this room had a wooden floor; the occasional fuzz peering out from under the usual rabble had led him to believe that a carpet existed. He now wondered what the patches of fuzz had been. It was probably best he never knew.

“What are you doing?” Devon queried. The sorcerer twisted around to see him.

“Oh, hey,” the sorcerer said. “Just summoning a demon, thought maybe we could get some answers.”

“Trying to… what! How can- what-” Devon searched for the words he needed.

“Don’t… don’t you remember the last time you tried that?”

The sorcerer pondered. Now that he thought about it, yes, he remembered. He remembered blasting it with lightning both times it used his roof as an exit point for its escape attempts. He also remembered shooting it in the leg with a handgun as it attempted to go after him directly. The demon eventually had to be banished back to its home realm, since it was preoccupied with cursing the sorcerer’s name rather than revealing any of the information he had needed.

“Vaguely,” the sorcerer shrugged. Devon opened his mouth to remind him, but the sorcerer cut his friend off. “Look, I’ve set up a few precautions, anyway.”

Devon crossed his arms. “Really.”

“Really,” the sorcerer said, making it clear that conversation was over. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this.”

The sorcerer turned back to the circle while Devon grudgingly sat on a large pile of books to watch. He could hear the sorcerer muttering something in a strange language. As he finished, his voice strengthened and the last syllables of the incantation echoed around the room.

The smoke rising from the candles was pulled together like strings, held over the center of the circle by invisible hands. The hands began to weave the strings together, creating a curtain of smoke that fell down to the floor. Wind and the smell of sulfur rushed out from behind the curtain. Devon plugged his nose and tried to wave the smell away.

A clawed hand ripped through the curtain, pulling with it the full body of the demon. The creature was rather large, at least seven feet in height, and hunched over like a gargoyle. Wings, resembling those of a bat, were folded across its slimy, grey back. The demon watched the sorcerer with two snake-like, yellow eyes that gleamed out from below two gigantic horns. As it spoke, puffs of grey escaped between its shark-like teeth.

“Who dares summon me?” The demon’s voice boomed. Devon felt a little chill in his soul when it spoke.

The sorcerer stood up, un-phased by the demon intimidating presence. “I, a humble sorcerer, have summoned you in the hopes that you will allow me the information I seek.”

The demon laughed; a terrifying, hollow sound. Devon tried to gulp down a lump that had formed in his throat.

“You, mortal, summon me into this world for information? And without protection!” The demon laughed again. “I think I’ll just rip out your soul and take it with me to the abyss!”

The huge creature roared and lunged at the sorcerer from across the circle. The sorcerer slammed his foot down on a node in the circle. A dome of glittering force erupted from the candles, into which went the demon’s face. The demon stepped back, stunned, but shook it off and lunged at the dome again. The result was the same.

The sorcerer grinned. “I always use protection, demon.”

Devon snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s why Jenny Croft got pregnant at the junior prom.”

“Shut up,” the sorcerer whined, glaring at his friend. Devon just shrugged, chuckling.

The sorcerer shook his head. He returned his gaze to the demon, who was currently snarling angrily at his imprisonment. Its eyes were locked on the sorcerer as it imagined all of the horrible things it could do to him as soon as it got out.

“Here’s the deal,” the sorcerer said, pushing a lock of hair back behind his ear.

“You give me the information I want, I send you back to your home plane. You don’t give me the information, I make you my puppet, and force you to volunteer at a soup kitchen or help little, old ladies cross the street or some such thing.”

The demon growled. “Your soul will be slowly devoured by hundreds of writhing, tormented horrors.”

“We’re in agreement then,” the sorcerer said, sitting down in front of the barrier. “So tell me, demon: why are the barriers between planes weakening?”

The demon growled. The sorcerer sighed.

“The sooner you tell me what I want to know, the sooner I let you out of there.”

“Maybe it’s your meddling with the fabric of reality, sorcerer.”

The sorcerer cocked an eyebrow. “Noted. But what is it really?”

The demon growled again. “I’m not afraid of you, mortal.”

“So you’re not going to say anything, then?”

“Rot, sorcerer.”

“Have it your way, then,” the sorcerer sighed. He pressed his fingers to another node on the circle. It glowed faintly. Suddenly, a glowing blue hand composed of magical force appeared behind the demon. It floated over to the beast and calmly tapped to the demon on the shoulder. Confused, the demon turned.

The hand connected with the demon’s face, sending it reeling into the wall of force. It bounced forwards off of the barrier, straight into a second strike from the hand-shaped force. The demons fell backwards again, this time crumpling to the side. Devon cringed at the beating.

“So how about now?” The sorcerer asked, his voice without a hint of humor.

“Not on yo-” the sorcerer’s hand hovered over the node again. “…perhaps I do know a little about what’s going on.”

“Good,” responded the sorcerer, and from his robe he produced a notepad and pen. “Do tell.”

The demon looked embarrassed. “It is none of the demonic lords that weaken the barriers, mortal.”

“Oh?” The sorcerer’s eyebrow raised again. “Understandable. It would take quite some smarts to be able to twiddle apart the fabric of the multiverse.”

The demon glared, his malice palpable. The sorcerer continued his interrogation.

“So who’s up to it, then?”

“I know as much on that as you, mortal.”

“Are you certain?”

“As certain as your violent death at my hands.”

“Very well,” the sorcerer responded as he clambered up from the floor. “Away with you.”

The sorcerer snapped his fingers, and the demon was sucked, screaming in rage, back through the curtain of smoke.

Devon pushed himself up from the tower of books, causing a few to fall off and knock over surrounding piles. “So what now?”

The sorcerer tapped his chin as he thought. “Well,” he said after a moment. “I guess we’ll have to see what the Ministry is up to.”

It was Devon’s turn to cock and eyebrow. “The Ministry?”

“Yes,” the sorcerer affirmed. He began shuffling through the piles of junk for something. “The Ministry of Otherwordlyness.”

“That sounds made-up.”

“It is.”