Ghere finished his supper, then stacked the plates for washing and checked to make sure Mrs Beasley (the housekeeper) had in fact actually left. He didn't need the kind of trouble that knowledge of Lilith could cause. Satisfied, he barred the door and headed into the bedroom. It wasn't everybody who had a pentacle inlaid around their bed but his explanation that it was a sleep ward had been accepted (and it would actually work for that too) and the nature of his bargain required it.
Assuming lotus on the bed, he chanted the summons.
Nothing happened.
He closed his eyes and tried again, chanting slowly, meticulously, each syllable pronounced with utmost care.
There is something actively trying to stop him from performing the summoning. It is as if Ghere's chest was being compressed from without by icy chains. The pressure increased until he finally gasped, out of breath, and opened his eyes.
The walls were bleeding. The pentagram burned in slow motion. Hypnotic swirls of blue with jagged black pupils hovered mere inches in front of his face, and suddenly became eyes of a woman he already met.
Her gaze locked with Ghere's; her grey cloak moved slowly, lazily, as if it was underwater, letting pale skin flash here and there.
"Your scent is stronger now." Her lips moved - but there was no sound - still, he could hear her. She smelled of roses, and broken promises.
"Only pain lies down the road you have chosen. You can still turn back, and no one will ever know." The smile on her face belied the suffering in her eyes.
"Think about this."