The tome was four dollars off a clearance cart outside a used bookstore on Clement — water-stained, missing the index, and the only reason I bought it was the woodcut on the cover, something with too many teeth. I read it on the toilet over about a week. Page sixty-one said a properly drawn circle could bring up a demon "as hot as fiery brimstone," and I figured that meant sulfur and maybe some smoke, so I swept the basement, measured the circle twice, and still botched the salt line on the first try. The flash popped, the candles guttered, and there she was — kneeling dead centre of the concrete floor, wings half-spread, tongue hanging out, still smoking faintly off the shoulders. As hot as fiery brimstone. Right. Figurative, my ass - I had to snap this photo as proof! She didn't even blink, I think she actually posed for the camera, and said something about payment of my eternal soul in return for her service... whatever. Any price was worth that night!