Sam knocked on Emil Vargas's door and waited patiently for the older man to make his way from his study, full of books, to answer her summons. He opened the door, his wispy gray hair, what was left of it, peeking out behind gold-rimmed glasses. He was slightly overweight in his middle age. He shaved infrequently and so would have a beard of random length depending on his most recent foray with clippers.

  He did not smile at his visitor, nor did he frown. His facial expression did not change. When he said nothing, Samantha greeted him. "Hello, Emil. May I come in?"

  The older man turned and left the door open and walked away from her.

  Sam entered and shut the door behind her. She wondered at the mood of her host. Even Emil usually greeted her with at least some semblance of pretended warmth.

  When she reached his study, he gestured towards one of the two chairs in the room. She had to remove a pile of books to sit down.

  "Emil? What's wrong?" asked Sam. "Have I offended you in some way?"

  "What is wrong, she asks me. What is wrong is you are the worst kind of fair-weather friend, Samantha. Always you come with your problems. You come, you cut off a finger in my ritual room, you leave blood everywhere, and you do not ask: How are you, Emil? How is your mother? How have you been?

  "Never do you come for tea, or do you bring gifts to me other than your blood, which I clean up, by the way."

  "Well, I do apologize, Emil. You see, under the circumstances, I was in a bit of a rush given that the entire city could have been overrun by demon-addled addicts and the impromptu cult they were inspiring."

  "Yes, but Samantha, as I said, it has been many, many days since then, and you do not come for tea. You do not bring anything but your problems to me, and now today, when I want to have a nice day, read my book, here is Samantha again going to cut off a finger in my ritual room."

  "Emil, I'm sorry again. I'm not going to cut off any fingers today, and while I do have my list of problems, listen, how is your mother?"

  "She is dead. It is just example. Thank you for asking.

  "Well, then let us get on with your problems. Then you can get out of my house."

  Sam shook her head, held up both her hands, wiggling her fingers at him. His eyes widened for a moment before returning to the same pained, neutral expression he had when she entered.

  "What is this, Sam? You trade something for having ten fingers again? What was it? Two toes?"

  "Good Lord, Emil. I will bring a bottle of wine the next time I visit."

  "And next time you also bring problems with wine. You are seeming like you are wanting to tell me how you have so many little piggies. Go."

  "Emil, in English, piggies refers to toes. It's from a-"

  "I do not care. Tell me why you have fingers."

  "Well, see, I found a cult. They were in the sewers. And they were raising up zombie animals and doing experiments on them. So I went and I killed the cultists and I stopped them. In the center of their main ritual room, you see, there was a big old sigil. I committed most of it to memory as best I could. And I was wondering if you could tell me any of the details about who they were contacting and what for?"

  Sam had met Emil while she was still in the military. They were both a few years younger then, Emil a bit more spry. Neither of them wished to continue in service of the American Empire after witnessing many of the atrocities their side had committed against the Brazilians. It was Emil who had helped her escape with her memory intact, the Liar's Eye still in her skull. The military, on discharging its officers, by matter of policy would erase the memories of those in its service. This was to ensure complete secrecy with regards to the sigils they were taught and the powers they contacted. In Samantha's case, they also intended to remove the Liar's Eye. It was a valuable resource, and they had no reason to allow her to keep it after her service ended. Samantha, for her part, helped ensure Emil was able to keep his own memories of the sigils he was taught.

  As an Imperial Diviner, he was taught one sigil of a King of Hell.

  "I'm not sure you explain to me very clearly how you get finger back from killing cultists, but I also do not care very much. Show me sigil."

  Sam gathered a nearby piece of paper and a pencil from Emil and began sketching out what she could remember of the cultists' sigil. She drew the seven-pointed star, the scripts, and the circle around the central space where Gul Zerah's body and the chalice which would eventually contain the Elixir of Life sat.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "Interesting," said Emil when reviewing Sam's crude sketch. "Very interesting. This is a seal of Vepar the Stormsea. Vepar is a Duke of Hell. Do you know what this means?"

  Sam had recently become acquainted with another Duke of Hell, so she nodded.

  "This is good, Samantha. I am warming up to you today. You bring me interesting stories. Tell me, how do you get this finger back?"

  "At the center of this sigil," she began, "was both a dead body and an empty chalice. From what I was able to gather from the cultists, before slaying them, their goal was to resurrect their leader. His name was Gul Zerah, if that means anything to you."

  Emil shook his head.

  "Well," continued Sam, "as I said, there was a chalice. The cultists stood at each point of the star here with their leader outside the circle doing most of the invocation. The cultists sacrificed their lives and the chalice filled with a black and red liquid that looked like nothing I have ever seen. Unnatural it was to my eyes.

  "The cult leader seemed desperate to get her hands on this liquid, the Elixir of Life they called it."

  Emil's bushy eyebrows shot up.

  "Quite a dramatic name," said he. "I gather you did not let them have Elixir of Life?"

  "I did not."

  "Surmising some of the effects of the elixir and paying close attention to the invocation, I realized that this thing would heal some of the injuries I had sustained battling the cultists and their zombie animals. Did I tell you they resurrected a zombie lion? Well, they did. It would have been quite a pickle had I had to face the lion myself.

  "But their robes, I gathered, would allow the cultists to control zombies. This was a clever mechanism in some ways. But I think they had not anticipated being caught, and if they were caught, not by one who would simply murder them and take their jammies.

  "I took a shot from the chalice of the Elixir of Life. It healed me. The reason that I bring it up is because it has had some other effects. I can no longer get drunk, and my injuries heal when I sleep."

  "So, what is problem?"

  "I can't get drunk, Emil. I told you."

  "Samantha, this is because it is healing you of poison. Do you understand? Alcohol is not good for you."

  "Well, I just wondered if it was going to stay this way."

  "I see," sighed Emil. "Samantha, what I can tell you is this: Vepar is powerful, Duke of Hell. He can heal injuries, he can heal disease, in addition to other powers. If cultists contract with him with such tremendous offerings, seven lives you say, is very much. It takes two lives to restore a dead person. Two! But they give seven. Why is this? Do you think it is because this Elixir of Life has more effect than just giving you life? I think it contains power of Vepar to heal you. But I cannot say for sure without knowing entire contract.

  "So, without further magic, I think you're just going to be lucky that you no longer have boo-boos when you wake up."

  Sam considered Emil's words. This meant that unless she paid a further price and contracted with either this Vepar or another Duke of Hell, she would be unable to drink. This was unfortunate at best. Drinking provided a refuge for Sam against painful memories and the sheer boredom and loneliness that came along with her lifestyle. Part of leaving the military and being who she was meant that Sam would likely not have a normal life. Not that she wanted one, but still, being outside of the proper constraints of society came with a great deal of loneliness. In recent days, the strange characters entering her life had somewhat alleviated this. Sam pushed those thoughts aside. She had more questions for her friend.

  "Speaking of Dukes of Hell, Emil," said Sam. "Do you know one named Haborym?"

  "Yes, of course. Haborym the Firebrand. Haborym the Burner. He is a Duke of Hell. Although he can be contacted for divination, mostly he just burn things."

  "Do you have any knowledge of Dukes of Hell possessing humans?"

  "No. No, Samantha. This is not possible. The Duke of Hell is immensely powerful. The Duke of Hell is not interested in petty games of possession or being in human body. It is pointless. Besides, so much power in human body, it would burn to crisp. Why you asking?"

  "Oh, no reason specifically. The name came up in a recent investigation, and I was just wondering. I have one more problem to discuss with you. Recently, I was attacked.

  "My attacker was a man wearing an oilcloth hood and mask. His eyes were serpentine, and on his chest was tattooed the symbol of a cross covered in roses. Have you ever heard of such features or such a symbol?"

  "Well, the Rose Cross is the symbol of the Rosicrucian Order. They are mystical, they are not serpent men as you say. Was Rose Cross in circle? Yes?"

  "Yes, it was."

  "Well, then yes, this is symbol of Rosicrucian Order, but they are nice people. How this man attack you?"

  "He broke into my office. I recently hired a young woman as a receptionist. He attacked us both. It was towards the evening hours, this time of year. It had already gotten dark, so it may have just been some sort of criminal. But I can't shake the feeling this was a targeted attack. Given that my employee was involved, I didn't want to write it off. Also, the man was so strange. In addition to his reptilian eyes, he carried two snake-like daggers. Here's one of them."

  Sam passed the snake dagger over to Emil. He lifted his glasses to examine it and shook his head.

  "No, I am not knowing this. No, nor do I know why a man would attack you with snake eyes.

  "Maybe he is thinking you are single and want to go on date, so he tries to romance you with stabbing."

  Emil chuckled at his own joke. Sam didn't bristle so much as she groaned at the half-hearted concern Emil had for her romantic life. Being on the lam from the military and living the kind of lifestyle she did, Emil knew full well dating wasn't really her top priority.

  "All right, Emil. So, I suppose I could retain your services for divination as to the nature of the attacker. However, I've been thinking. And I hesitate to ask you this. You're the only one I know that could teach me."

  "Ho, boy," said Emil.

  "Will you teach me to be a proper sorcerer, Emil? I keep on running into dangerous situations in which greater knowledge of the sorcerer's arts as well as greater allies on my side would be a tremendous advantage."

  "Ho, boy," sighed Emil. "Well, no. Sam, I'm sorry, but you are full of problems and not very nice, are you? Besides, I do not think you could afford price."

  "Emil, in exchange for your instruction, I offer you the binding of Paimon the King."