The snow had gone and the trees outside my house had enveloped me in a canopy of green. It seemed like it was just Samhain in the Courtyard. I hadn't been there since that night. Only my visions of Dantalion kept me alive and I spent most of the winter months studying in my dark bedroom, hardly spending any time at the campus libraries like I used to. I went to class and came home. I only talked to my friends a few times over the phone since the night they came to see me at my house. Rowan would try to visit me, knocking persistently on my door. I never answered.
The phone rang, and I hesitated to answer. It was Rowan.
"Laurel, it's me," he spoke in fast sentences. "I'm gonna keep calling till you pick up."
He called back again. This time I finally answered.
"What do you want Rowan?" I asked, trying desperately not to show any emotion.
"What? I want to see you, or at least talk to you!" he screamed into my ear.
"I can't," I said short and sweet.
"Why the hell not?" he argued.
"I told you the last time we were together, what we have is really good. I just don't want to ruin it.."
"We're not gonna ruin it, you need to take your mind off all that obsessive demon crap. Just let it go Laurel," he pleaded with me.
"Sorry Rowan, I can't." and that was it. I made the decision. I needed to get through this somehow.
It was Beltane now, and while everything around me seemed to transform into something beautiful, colorful, and alive, I was drained and lifeless, my skin pale, my body and soul empty. I stopped practicing magick for fear Dantalion wouldn't come, that the rituals were a barrier he could not cross. I wanted to see him and I knew I had to evoke him like I did the night in the Courtyard.
I lit my best incense, etching his seal carefully onto parchment, making sure to include every detail from his rank to title. I sat forever it seemed, until I felt completely still in meditation so I could silence my thoughts.
I recited the words when I first evoked Dantalion: "Demonic Lord, by your grace, grant me, the power to evokethe Angel of the Fallen, Dantalion, seventy first demon of the Goetia, who bears the seal of 'Incubus'. I beg thee bring forth Dantalion to manifest before me, of his allegiance, that he may serve and protect me, in your name, Demonic Lord.." I waited, completely still, hoping the words would evoke Dantalion like they did once before. I couldn't remember if I had inscribed the demonic seal correctly. I thought something was missing, something out of place. Glancing at my forearm, and then at the parchment, the markings were right, all except for one symbol. I must have confused the symbols on the seal. I knew the words were correct, I memorized each and every one.