The chants rose slowly, shaping sounds not part of any human language. The acrid smoke of incense swirled as the air in the closed chamber started to move. Only when the candle flames changed from their natural colour to a dim midnight blue the glow of the diagram drawn on the floor with unsavoury substances became apparent. It brightened, spitting sparks as the chants crescendoed. A flash of light and a thunder strike, then silence, broken by genteel coughing.
A strange figure stood in the summoning circle, short, and with a fringe of hair framing its properly bald head.
“William Aloysius Coltrane.”
“You have been summoned and bound to our service.”
“What?” The man in the circle straightened his glasses and peered up at the speaker. His opposite was about nine foot tall. The horns and goat’s legs and all seemed to be way too realistic for a mask used in a prank.
“You will serve as our accountant for a year and a day.”
A glance at the even more disturbing other figures around the cavernous room decided William against protesting.
“What does the job entail?”
It had to be a dream. He blamed the cheese sandwich.