Page 2 of Hexes From Exes

No one knew what witches Tom was talking about, and since he was prone to saying the weirdest shit, they just ignored him. Well, except for Chad, who knew a cousin who had a friend whose girlfriend was into witchy shit. It got the wheels turning, and after the guys left for the night, he pulled out his phone and started to text.

Then he started to research.

And when he looked up next it was 4am, and he had an idea that was just starting to take form.

* * *

Summoning a demon, it turned out, wasn’t that hard or unusual. According to Wikipedia, people had been doing it for centuries with various degrees of success. Chad’s life was fraught with success, so he was sure if he asked the right questions, he could find the right answer. He followed trail after trail, and finally ended up behind a run-down Circle K on 27th Ave and Indian School. Normally, Chad wouldn’t be caught dead in that area but it’s where the contact wanted to meet him.

To his immense relief he wasn’t waiting long before a black hearse pulled up, its windows blacked out, its paint peeling. Chad was still inside his BMW with the doors locked, waving away anyone who approached his car. He nearly waved away his contact, but she was insistent, pounding on the window until he rolled it down a crack.

“I don’t have any money,” he hissed.

The older woman pushed her sunglasses down her nose to stare at him. “You Chad?” she asked.

“Oh, you’re … Poppy?” he asked, trying not to laugh at her name. She kinda looked like a Poppy, with her unkempt long hair streaked with silver. Her shirt was covered in floral print, and she wore a flowing skirt that went to just below her knees. He realized, with absolute horror, that she wasn’t wearing shoes despite the fact that it was easily 180 degrees on the black top.

“Yeah, got the money?” she asked. He lowered the window just a bit more, nearly suffocating on the smell of her perfume. It was a hearty mix of weed, dirt, and body odor. Chad fumbled with the envelope full of cash, trying to chuck it at her with enough speed to get this process moving faster. He didn’t want to spend any more time in this shit hole part of the Valley, nor did he want to talk much longer with this woman. She was weird enough in her e-mails.

“Here you go,” she said proudly, passing him an envelope. He popped it open and pulled out a piece of paper from a book that looked like it was older than the Bible. He squinted at the paper, reading the words on it. “Is this Latin?” he asked.

“No, it’s in the demon language,” she said, blinking at him like he was an idiot.

“Of course,” he replied.

“The translation is on the other paper, but you need to get the words right.” She was reaching into the window as she said it, causing another nauseating wave of her body odor to fill the car. “I got it thanks!” he said, leaning back in his seat and pressing the automatic window button as many times as he could. The window rolled up, separating him from Poppy and the rest of the world.

That was last month, and since then, it’d taken a bit of finesse, but he’d gotten the rest of the men on board.

First it was convincing them that something needed to be done about Stephanie. She couldn’t just go through every eligible bachelor (and Tom) in Phoenix and leave them out to dry like that, with no consequences for her actions.

Then it was convincing them that if they did retaliate, it wouldn’t reflect back on them. They all had careers to worry about, reputations to uphold. They didn’t need to be traced back to starting shit with a powerful woman like Stephanie Porter.

After that it got tricky - he had to convince them that cursing her was the best way to go about it.

It turned out to be easier than he could have imagined. The idea of cursing a woman by summoning a demon was so ridiculous none of them thought it would actually work. It was a zero-risk project, and for some of them a way to finally get Chad to shut up about Stephanie. He’d become obsessive, they were worried that he may do something more serious if they didn’t placate him somehow.

So, on August 5th, they gathered in Chad’s Paradise Valley home, cleared all the furniture from the living room, and started to set up for the ritual to summon a revenge demon.

Chad stood at the head of the pentagram that was drawn on the ground. “I thought witches were all free love and peace,” Tom asked, his big toe peeking out from a hole in his sock as he brushed the point of his pentagram with it. “It’s symbolic,” Chad shot, getting more and more annoyed with Tom. He had an objection to everything, like why did they need grave dirt? And this seems like we’re appropriating a culture.

To his relief, the others weren’t objecting to anything - Diego grabbed his share of the items without complaint, Monty showed up thirty minutes early to help Chad move the furniture, and Fred ordered pizza for after the ritual was done. Chad expected it would take no more than twenty minutes, based on his solo trial runs.

They stood at each point of the pentagram and repeated after Chad in the incomprehensible language that sounded like a drunk Scottish person trying to read Latin. Diego understood some Latin, most medical stuff had Latin origins, but this shit was indecipherable. Part of him felt weird about saying words that he didn’t understand - but what was the harm? It’s not like you could enter a contract with a demon against your knowledge…right?

The harm, it turned out, was that they actually summoned a demon.

One moment the candles on the edges of their circle were bright, illuminating the otherwise dark room. The next moment a phantom breeze ran through the room and extinguished them all, leaving the five men in utter darkness. They paused their chanting, shocked by the sudden darkness. Fred laughed uncomfortably, the rest of the guys chuckling along with him.

That is, until the candles relit and in the middle of the circle stood an honest to fucking god demon.

He was at least 6’5, not counting his horns, which stood out from his forehead like a goat. They curved back around his head, hidden by dark black wavy hair that fell to just below his ears. His skin was dark red and textured, like a reptile. He was broad, his shoulders defined. He wasn’t so much muscular as he was imposing. He looked like those strongmen on TV that were obviously jacked under their layer of fat. He was shirtless, wearing just a kilt like loincloth to cover him from waist to knees.

The scariest thing about him, though, were his eyes. They were bright yellow and slitted like a goat, and they rolled with such intensity as they darted between every guy around the circle.

“Who has summoned me?” the demon asked, his voice a quiet growl in the silence of the room. The silence stretched for another thirty seconds before he spoke again, louder this time. “Do you understand me? Who summoned me?”

“I did,” Chad said quickly, clearing his throat as his voice cracked. The demon’s eyes locked on him, and he took a step toward him, bringing how strikingly inhuman he looked into the light. He was staring down at Chad, his nostrils flaring.