Solomon's Mirror

Chapter 1: In the House of Canaan

We were in the house of Canaan.

Well, okay, not literally.

Every saga needs a good introduction, or so I've been told.  The thing is, everything I'm about to tell you is true.  Down to the last letter.  I'm telling you this because there will be times where you will be doubting the sincerity of my words.

My name is Chance.  My parents had a sense of humor.  Because in reality, I had no chance; none at all.  My life was normal up until a few years ago.  Just your average, everyday Raksasha.  Did I mention that?  Demon here.  Pure blooded cat demon.  Tabby, I think.  We don't show up in reflections.

I digress.  The story isn't about me.  I'm just a witness.  To the crime of the century.

Not this century though.  Nor the last.  Are you doubting yet?

The thing is this-- our story really begins in the future.

I was twisting around the year 2010 (It's a perk) when I first set my eyes upon Shane McPherson.  The encounter, you'd say, was by no means an accident.  Swirling around the spaces in between reality is a specialty of mine, until I was sucked quite abruptly out of mid-weave.  It felt like a 300 pound fat guy gripping on to me as I scampered to stay in quasi-space.  No such luck, and I was suddenly spiraling to Earth.  IRELAND of all places.

I dropped and dropped, finally realizing my fate-- some sort of Demonologist was calling me for a favor.  I have to admit, usually you humans are very professional with the summonings.  When I arrived in the crookedly erected circle of protection that Shane put up to keep me trapped, though, I couldn't help but laugh.

The surroundings were blurry and cloudy like the Horsehead Nebula (You really should go if you get the chance) but soon became clear.  Standing awkwardly in front of me was a spindly little teenager, underfed--around me was peeled flowery wallpap--

"Oy," he said abruptly.  My attention drew back to his face, and a grin quickly came.

"Nice Circle," I said.  The boy looked terrified.

"You're a bloody cat."

You humans have a terrible knack of stating the obvious.

"You summoned a Raksasha," I said in measured tone.  "What exactly were you expecting?"

"Oh, well, it wasn't really, uh, specific," the boy stammered.  "I just sort of put up a trap for the first dem--"

"-on to come on by, yes, I'm reading your thoughts now.  You should really learn to put up a better circle, champ.  You need a lot more salt than THAT."

Okay, so I didn't exactly read his thoughts.  But us demons, you gotta understand, we exist and don't exist at the same time.  We can dive into moments and live there forever.  Time just isn't the same to us the way it is to you.  So I may have cheated a bit and jumped forward to spook the kid.  Wouldn't you if you could?

And he practically looked like he was going to wet himself.  Mission accomplished.  I decided to continue.

"The thing is, kid, you shouldn't even know about this kind of stuff.  I could have been any kind of demon, and what would your circle have done if I was some sort of... Balrog?"  There's no such thing as Balrogs.  At this point I was just hedging on the hope that he saw Lord of the Rings enough times to take the bait.

Then, he said something that really caught me.

"I'm looking for something, and it's more important than anything-- my life included."

I know what you're saying-- A teenage human being melodramatic?  Go on.  But, you know, us demons (the strong ones anyways) can read human emotion like you read a book.  I curled up my tail, whipping it around.  Walking through a crack in the protection circle, I slid through reality to come to rest on Shane's shoulders.  He was stiff as a board, terrified.

So I whispered, "So what's so important that you want to sell your soul to a demon?"

"N-not sell my soul, just make a deal."  His voice cracked.

What can I say.  I was intrigued.

"A deal?"

"I need to go back, to stop something from happening."  His voice carried a bit more now.  I let my claws extended out, putting slight pressure on his neck.  Okay, so it was unnecessary, but demons don't have human consciences and this is how we get our jollies.  He winced.

"Mummy die from cancer, was it?"

"No, she's in the other room."

"Dad?"

"Nope, he's at the pub."

"Family dog?"

I could feel the annoyance run through him.  It tasted bitter and chalky.  "I'm fifteen, don't patronize me."

So he was fifteen.  Who knew?

"Fine," I hopped off him so as not to ingest any more of his putrid annoyance.  (Fear is always the sweetest.)  "So what is it then?"

"Solomon's Mirror."

I froze in my tracks.  It's not everyday you hear humans talk about that kind of stuff.

Turning around to glare at him, I let out a low pitched bubbling noise of warning.

"I need to stop it..." he continued.  "I need to stop it from being stolen."

And, for the first time in 350 years, I was speechless.