In contrast to its grotesque torso, Astaroth possessed the head and features of a handsome young man. Long brown hair fell to its shoulders. Its cheeks glowed with good health. Bright white, perfect teeth gnashed in anger, while blue eyes that never blinked surveyed its prison. Only an immense, forked tongue that darted in and out of its mouth made mockery of its seeming humanity. There was no mistaking the devil’s identity. It matched perfectly the description given in several of the black magic texts. This horror was Astaroth, demon from the foulest pits of Hell.

“Who dares disturb my rest?” hissed the creature, in a voice sounding like steam escaping from a kettle. Its foul breath stank of sulfur and corruption. “Are you ready to meet thy end, mortal?”

Roger licked his lips, feeling slightly numb. He actually had not expected the spell to work. It took him a few seconds to gather his wits. Meanwhile, the demon peered closely at the lines of the pentagram, searching diligently for any break in the pattern.

“I name you Astaroth,” said Roger finally, remembering the necessary binding spell. “And by your true and proper name I command your obedience for one task. Hear me and obey.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Astaroth nodded its head in reply. “You know the ritual. What do you want—women, gold… revenge?”

“None of those,” said Roger, on firmer footing now. “Women mean nothing to me. Gold or jewels would raise tax questions I couldn’t answer. Revenge is for impatient fools.”

“Then what do you desire?” asked the demon, sounding curious.

Roger told him. In great detail. Even Astaroth was impressed.

That night saw the beginning of Roger’s empire. His scheme was brilliant in its simplicity. Though the demons he raised were limited in their supernatural abilities, all of them possessed enough skill for the task he required. He used the minions of darkness as an unsuspected business fifth column.