One small detail puzzled him. His computer printout emphasized a much different pronunciation of the demon’s name from the one commonly accepted. According to the machine, the variation was the correct title of the beast. That explained why most sorcerers had never been able to raise the creature from the pit. For a spell to work, every word and syllable had to be exactly correct.

Roger knew better than to doubt the computer’s offering. The machine never lied. Like himself, it was exact in every detail. After all, he had programmed it. Silently, he mouthed the demon’s name several times, making sure he had the syllables just right.

One last time, Roger checked the lines on the floor. It paid to be careful. As long as his pentagram and magic circle remained intact, the creatures he summoned could not harm him. Three years of dealing with the powers of darkness had made Roger fearless. Nothing frightened him anymore. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

Taking a deep breath, he began the chanting. Three times he repeated the great spell from The Lemegeton. As he spoke, the air trembled with the force of the words pouring from his mouth. There was a feeling of electricity in the air that Roger had never noticed in any of his previous rituals. Though the lights remained unchanged, somehow the room appeared to grow darker. And then the spell was complete.

Roger stared at the being in the center of the pentagram and shook his head in disbelief. This thing did not look anything like the demon prince described in his books of magic. All of his previous summonings had been hideous abominations, warped twisted hideous mockings of life. The being inside the circle appeared human.

It resembled a short, elderly man, crippled and bent with age.