But the best feature of the house was its elevation. It sat on enough of a hill that I was able to have a basement, though not so high up that it could be seen above the surrounding trees from the highway. Houses with basements were practically nonexistent in this region, and the large basement of this house was absolutely perfect for the kind of arcane activities that my aunt and I dealt in. Aunt Tessa had converted the attic in her own house into a summoning chamber, but she frequently moaned that it wasn’t as good as a basement. It was a lot harder to make an attic noiseproof and lightproof, and the earth that surrounded a basement helped soak up excess arcane resonance. Plus, the heat in any attic in the South was damn near unbearable in the summer.
I returned to the foyer, compulsively checking everything again and quietly pleased with how nice it looked. I could have people over every now and then, the thought intruded. Maybe a crawfish boil in the backyard for people from work? It really was a lovely little house, and there was a part of me that wanted to show it off. I had dim childhood memories of my parents throwing parties and having people over—before my mother got sick. But neither of them had dealt with the arcane, I reminded myself. They’d had no reason to be secretive and private.
I had plenty of reason. I’d have to scrub the shit out of the basement to make sure there was no evidence of a summoning diagram. I grimaced. And hide all my implements. Would anyone come, anyway? I had plenty of casual friends from work, but Jill was probably the only one I felt any real “friendship” toward, and I could count on zero hands the times we’d hung out together outside of work. Baby steps, Kara, I chided myself. Make some friends, then worry about throwing a party.
I scowled and pulled my focus back to the task at hand. I could worry about my social life some other time. I checked one more time that the curtains completely covered the windows, then headed to the hallway door that led to the basement. I paused in front of it, taking a deep breath and rolling my head on my neck to work the tension out. I was good at this, I reminded myself. This was going to be a very low-level summoning, and I’d performed plenty of them successfully. I’d worked my ass off for the past decade to learn everything I could about summoning demons. I knew the chants, the bindings, the names. I’d studied rituals dating back centuries, when it was first discovered that there were people who were genetically gifted with the ability to open a portal between this world and another—a world of creatures that came to be known as demons. Last year I’d even taken leave from work and scraped together the money to spend two months in Japan, studying under the summoner who had been my aunt’s mentor—a waste of time and money, I later decided. The convergence had been too weak to summon anything really interesting, and Tessa’s mentor—a wisp of a man who looked old enough to have been around for the first summoning—was a rude, condescending asshole.
I slipped off my bathrobe, folded it neatly, and set it against the wall in the hallway, despite my usual habit of dropping clothing wherever I happened to be. For the thousandth time I reminded myself that I needed to put a hook on the door for just this reason. I opened the basement door and walked naked down the stairs, skin prickling with goose bumps at the slight chill that lingered in the air despite the fire I’d lit earlier. It was spring closing in on summer, but the basement held the cold fiercely at times. I pulled the waiting clothing off the hook at the bottom of the stairs—drawstring pants and a loose shirt made from a gray buttery-soft silk. I’d never bought into the whole flowing-silken-robes thing—far better to be free from distractions, able to move about.
I stepped off the stairs, bare feet chilling against the concrete of the floor. The basement was huge—almost the same square footage as the main floor of my house. There was a fireplace in the south wall that tended to get a lot of use, since the basement stayed cool in the summer and became downright frigid in the winter. A couple of years ago, I’d converted the third of the basement that contained the fireplace into a mini-office, carpeted in a plush deep-red shag that only barely avoided looking like it belonged in a bordello. A heavy oak table and a comfortable wingback chair that I’d scored at an estate sale completed the ensemble. The other two-thirds of the basement floor was smooth concrete, unmarked except for the intricate and large circular diagram I had laboriously chalked out earlier.
I rubbed my arms as I scanned the room. The only light came from the fireplace and a few low candles placed around the circle, but it was enough. It wasn’t as if I would need light to read anything. There wouldn’t be time to read if things went wrong.
I’d already put my materials out, the implements I would need set in precise alignment outside the complex diagram. I was reusing the diagram I’d created for my summoning of Kehlirik, with the changes needed for the different-level demon that I would be calling. A diagram for a twelfth-level demon was a large and complicated construction that usually took me a good three hours to complete. The changes needed to summon the luhrek Rysehl had taken only twenty minutes.