The dawn of the demon

Chapter 1

"I call onto you, demon. You who killed my brother. I summon thee within this circle. I want to make a deal."

In the dead of the night, a young man had made a circle of salt, candles and his own blood. A picture of a smiling young man with raven black hair and blue eyes looked back at him from within the circle. In his lap lay a book, sepia pages written in ink. He had to follow the instructions carefully, he recited the ancient spells for hours now. Nothing had happened. Nothing yet. But if there was anything true to the books that contained his last hope of saving his brother, he had to try it out now.

Amsterdam is a city of wonders. At least, Chris van der Pek tought so when he and his brother moved here a couple years ago. But now, nothing of his brother was left, just a shirt he held on tight. It was as his father had predicted, if Chris did not keep an eye on his brother, Damian, he would get himself killed one day. And he did. Just two months ago Damian had been in his appartement, rambling on about someone that wasn't supposed to alive, but did anyway. Chris did not think of it very much, his brother seemed to have inherited a few of their mother's trades, not to the least her slight paranoïd behaviour. But the next day, after several failed attempts to call his brother, he went to the appartement and found him, torn to pieces, soaked in his own blood. There are no words to describe the horror and pain he had felt when he saw the scene unfolding before him. The blood spatters were everywhere, on the furniture, on the walls, on the ceiling. Chris could not watch but could not turn away either. He stood there, motionless, as the horror overflowed his whole body. No human could have done this. To murder someone, you must be cold, unhuman. But tearing somebody apart like this, well you can't be a human. Chris threw up, again and again, as his stomach gave out under the pressure. He had lost his brother, even tough they never where very close, he never intended to ignore him. The guilt he felt towards his brother was unbearable. If only he had listened to his brother when he came to him. If only he had paid attention. Nobody had any leads, the few there were went quickly dry. His brother mainly had kept to himself, being introvert, after severe counseling by therapists and psychiatrist alike. Before his mental problems had started, Damian had been a normal boy. One with too many bad friends and bad habits and gotten himself in trouble more then once, but not crazy, like he had been the last couple years, ever since their mother had passed away.

Last couple of weeks, after the appartement had been cleaned, Chris was here often, wondering if he could have made a difference. He slowly went trough his brothers stuff, decided what to keep and what to throw away. It had been difficult. His brother had inherited a lot of his mothers personal diaries, and he had kept his own. Chris wondered if he would find any answers in there, he had been reluctant to read them, and none of them were very recent. The books his brother had gotten from their mother were about the supernatural. Chris had never believed in that nonsense. Ghosts, angels, demons, werewolfs and vampires could all kiss his ass. Or so he thought before his brother died. Before his brother was brutally ripped apart.

But that was before he had found that one book. That book that seemed to had been written ages ago. That book that had belonged to his great grandfather and had passed onto them from generations onto generations. That book containing spells of the darker sort, rituals of dark initiations of the secret society his great grandfather had been a part of. Names of demons and the reasons they could be summoned for. Their purposes and even ranks in hell and purgatory. Chris at first found it nonsense, but the more he read, the more he became intrigued by it. It kept his mind mind busy, away from mourning over his brother, but for that it only partially succeeded. There were also detailed chapters about necromancing, but there were lots of warnings. They should not interfere with the dead. But Chris wanted to do just that. If there was a chance that he could make him alive again, he would do it. But later he began to reason that his brother might not have been murdered by a human. It could really have been a demon. If all of what was said in the diaries was true, then it could not be an coïncidence. Their families connection to dark magic and demons, Damians irratic behaviour the night before he died and last but not least, the crime itself pointed to one thing: the supernatural.

A knock on the door. Chris did not respond. He did not want to be interruped while he was doing his spell. But the knock became louder. Chris turned around just to see the door flying open because someone had kicked it in.

"Well, why don't you just come in," said Chris, his tone irritably.

"Thank you," came a womans voice. She stepped into the appartement. A blonde woman with grey eyes looked at him and smiled. She was waring a long black coat and in her hands she held an umbrella.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience," she said. "I wasn't sure if anyone was here, after all." She had a warm and pleasant voice to listen to. But Chris was a little angry that she had just kicked in the door of his late brother's appartement.

"Detective Mirjam Dekker, why are you here?"

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. I should have checked if you where here. How are you holding up?"

"I am fine." Chis looked at the woman with an questioning gaze, who walked past him and grabbed a chair.

"I know it is the middle of the night. I don't understand it much myself, but i just felt compelled to come here and find out if I had missed anything in my initial investigation," she said, while putting the chair in the middle of the circle. Chris followed her every movements as she sat down on the chair.

"Why are you staring at me like that, mister van der Pek?" she asked, curious.

Chris sighted and answered carefully.

"Because you are the demon that killed my brother."