“Oh I hate this part.” Lilian walked over to the edge of the stage. She popped a flask off her hip and unscrewed the cap. The pungent odor of cinnamon schnapps flooded her nostrils. Out of reflex, she scrunched her nose and turned her face away. She took a deep, fresh breath and looked at the flask again. With cold steel in her hand, she tilted her head back and consumed a huge swig. The fiery drink burned the whole way down. She closed her eyes tight, willing the low-proof alcohol to coalesce inside her. The scorching formed against her spine, knotting up and pushing against her. Lilian collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest. She reached for her necklace again, and not finding it, made a sign of the cross. The alcohol pressed against her insides, burning her from inside out, causing her to wretch. She pounded a fist on the stage. “Get out of me already!”

With a great eruption of cinnamon liquor and globs of ectoplasm, a small creature clawed its way from Lilian's back. It had veiny, leathery wings colored orange and black. Its head looked as a chubby child, fat cheeks and tufts of thin, black hair. But its eyes were not of a toddler, instead being two vertical slits the color of emeralds set against the night sky. It hunched over, its body thin and bony with a spiny tail. Its arms terminated in disproportionate hands with jagged, obsidian claws. Its feet were awkwardly curved, also sporting vicious talons. “Behold!” it said, a forked tongue whipping from its jagged maw. “You have henceforth summoned the Great Dragon! I am the Oppressor of Saints, the Founder of Murder and Corrupter of Innocence! You who have summoned my awesome powers will be rewarded with a place among the dukes of my legions!” It stamped its feet, flames billowing around its body. “Tell me, bold mortal, wherefore have you sought my powers!”

Lilian wiped her mouth on her sleeve, looking behind her. “Seriously, Scratch?”

The little creature blinked, then slumped into a sitting position. “Oh. It's just you, boss.” Scratched folded his wings around himself. “Just once I want you to summon me at a birthday party or something. You know? I don't ever get to have fun anymore. You keep me locked up in that flask. Hey, listen, boss, you should really think about getting some better hooch. It'd make this easier.”

************

With a glance, Jake checked the door. Lilian followed Jake's gaze and shrugged. The thuds echoed again, this time in the center of the room. And then, the source finally entered where the trio could see it. A pale thing crawled into the light, a body white with blood loss and sunless days. Stringy, tangled hair, matted with scabs, splayed across shoulders and neck. Teeth, decayed and black with ancient blood, jutted from swollen, purpled lips. Fingernails etched lines into the floor as they propelled the body forward. Splinters jammed beneath the nails and across the finger tips, grime filling the cuticles. Its head stuck at an angle from its body; at some point, its neck had been destroyed by impact. Its eyes were completely black with a thin white ring for irises. Unnatural, haunting clicks emanated from its throat, forming a long groan. As the corpse pulled itself upright, it attempted to take a step before collapsing back to the floor. It pulled itself forward again with fingernails. Each time it attempted to stand and step, it stumbled. Lilian could see why: its right leg was broken at the shin, flopping uselessly under its own weight. A dozen stab wounds covered the body, dark and bruised. A stained, pale yellow leotard covered the form. In life, she had been Japanese. In death, she was a specter of spite and hatred, a creature with a grudge against those who wronged it.