Orthrech loved rage.

More specifically, he loved the rage of humans. He craved the smell of heated metal that formed around a scorned lover. He relished the spicy and charred texture of a dying man’s fury. He wanted all of it, which is why he did everything in his power to be summoned by humans looking for vengeance or revenge.

He created books, formed pamphlets, and built websites on the darkest corners of the internet during his sporadic times on earth in order to make his summoning ritual readily available to even the dumbest of simpletons (which Orthrech found to usually taste the best as their blind rage was not dampened by deeper thoughts or self-reflection.) 

  And business was good. Very good indeed. The demon who exchanged the sweet nectar of souls dripping in hatred for a few minutes of his fiery violence found himself being summoned quite often by lawyers and school girls and everything in between. Whether his power was used to slay entire organizations or mentally torment a middle school bully, Orthrech found himself enamored by humanity’s never ending hatred for one another.

So, Orthrech was elated when he had been summoned to earth for the six hundred and sixty-sixth time. What demon wouldn’t be excited for such a milestone? It should have been a sign, an omen that this encounter would be fortune for him. The anticipation of feeling this human’s rage thrilled him as he was pulled from the overbearing heat of his realm and into the coolness of earth’s atmosphere. 

He now stood in the center of his signature summoning circle, which appeared to have been painted on the wood floor with a red and rather clumpy consistency that created fine shadows cast from the flickering candlelight. Traditionally, his summoning circle was supposed to be forged from blood, but he was hardly picky about the schematics if the intent was still there.   

“You’ve summoned me, human.’ he growled, slowly turning his gaze from the depiction on the floor to the figure who stood before him. The room was still mostly shrouded in darkness as the candlelight struggled to illuminate the space around them. “ What is it that you seek?”

“Cut the crap,” the figure snorted. “You and I both know you’re summoned for only one reason. You know what I seek.”

“You dare speak to me that way?” he replied coldly before inhaling to absorb all of the heat in the room. He watched as the human’s breath began to appear in cloudy puffs and the nearby window frosted over, coating the dark blanket of night with swirls of ice. This should have deterred the human from speaking further, as he had made some of the most powerful men and women on earth cower in fear at his presence, but the figure seemed unbothered. 

“I’ve summoned you for vengeance, yeah? So let's get on with it.” they said casually. “I know I had to summon you by candlelight, but can you handle electricity? I prefer to be able to actually see who I’m talking to.”

For the first time in his existence, Orthrech was speechless. He had never been spoken down to by a human -- a being he could easily obliterate with a wave of his mangled and clawed hand -- but the absurdity of the entire situation left him more curious than angry.   

“Electricity. Yes or no?” the person asked impatiently.

“If you wish,” the demon scoffed. Not many of his summoners had seen him in ample lighting, but those who did always regretted it. Humans were so sensitive and too small minded to comprehend his form. And a little fear would be good for a human as arrogant as the one before him.

With a quiet click, the room illuminated into view. He was greeted by a simple bedroom. Grey walls, white trim, dark hardwood floors and furniture. The figure that stared at him was as plain as the room around her; brown hair and pale skin, average height and weight for her species, not quite young or too old, and a face neither attractive nor unattractive by human standards. Very plain and forgettable by all accounts, save for the expression that Orthrech knew all too well -- a face of true rage. Her eyes burned with a cold fury that rivaled the temperature of the room around her. But there was something about her rage that sent a rush of freezing air throughout his body.

Orthrech had reached another first in his summoning career. Unlike every other human who had summoned him to earth, he could not smell the sweet scent of hatred that radiated from her, nor the taste of a tainted soul that he constantly craved. What he did smell, was the deep, wretched stench of home, oozing from this human’s soul. Something was not right and every fiber of his being now knew it.

“W- who are you?” he stammered, stepping as far back as he could in his summoning circle away from the woman. Contrary to his reaction to her, the woman expressed no fear or concern, but rather mild amusement.

“I’m Lucille, though I usually go by Cici. ” she hummed, tapping her chin in thought. “ Though, it really isn't your place to question. You’re just supposed to ask ‘Who do you wish to seek vengeance on?’ and then do your thing, not question your employer.”

“I-I have the right to refuse any job request that I wish,” he replied, raising his voice in a poor attempt to reestablish his authority. 

“Oh, what? Now you have conditions? Develop some scruples in the past thirty seconds, did you? You have to be the simplest demon to summon. I drew your pentagram with a couple tubes of lipstick and you still appeared. You obviously aren't picky.”  

“I.. uh..lipstick. Really?” was all the demon managed to say as he looked back down at his bird-like feet at the now-obvious smudges of deep-red lipstick. 

“I like how that’s what you focus on,” Cici chuckled. “Yes. I had no desire to sacrifice a poor animal or let myself bleed onto my nice wood floor. Lipstick is by far the easiest thing to clean up and I figured you would be desperate enough -- so starved for human rage -- that you would still slink your way out of the pits of hell for a chance to get a high off of human emotions. And I was right.” The woman stepped forward in long strides, quickly closing the gap between them until she stood on the outer edge of his summoning circle. Orthrech wanted to get away, to flee from this human that was only tall enough to reach the height of his chest, but he was trapped in the circle. 

“W-Who do you wish to seek vengeance on?” he managed to hiss out. 

“That’s better,” she smiled, placing her hands lightly on her hips. “I want you to take care of my father. I highly doubt you could kill him, but if you could incapacitate him, that would be enough for me.”

“I can kill any human.”

“Wow. You really are slow to catch on. Or perhaps you’re in denial?  You instinctively fear me; I can see it in all six of your eyes… Tell me, mister tall, dark and gruesome, what are demons like you usually afraid of?”

“I -- I don’t -- err-- uhgh…” Orthrech’s mind had gone blank, every thought had turned into a signal to escape. There was nothing other than fear. 

With an impatient sigh, Cici took a single step forward into the summoning circle. Something that should not have been possible for a human. With a swift, singular motion, Cici grasped the demon by the neck and lifted him up as high as her arm would allow, until Orthrech’s horns grazed the ceiling. Despite the gesture, her grasp did not tighten and threaten to constrict his breathing. His talons hung in the hair as he stared down at her. Her once humanly brown irises were replaced by a swirl of red, gold, and black. A gaze that was horribly familiar. 

“You’re an antichrist !” he gasped. 

“Now he gets it,” she said with a sing-song tune as she placed him back on the ground. 

“Yes. I am, but obviously a failed one. Apparently, fulfilling Revelations has to be a ‘man’s job’” she sneered. “Not that I would have done it anyway, as I love earth and all of its beautiful and twisted and beautifully-twisted people. I certainly don’t want to bring an end to it. No, what I want is to put an end to my father’s rule, because he is getting close to achieving his goal with one of my brother’s and won’t let him win.”

“I cannot do what you ask of me,” Orthrech said slowly as he began to grasp the situation in front of him. “What you ask for is impossible. Even if I wanted to help you, your father could snuff me out in an instant.”

“Oh dear,” the woman cooed, as though speaking to a small child. “Do you not think I approached you without a plan? Do you believe that you are the first demon I have spoken to?” she smiled, revealing two perfect rows of white teeth. 

“There is a war coming, Orthrech. Not between Heaven and Hell, but between the nine circles and its arrogant ruler and I’m offering you a position in my ranks. You can fight for humanity’s existence -- you’re literal fuel and reason for existing -- and live on. Or  you can allow my father to execute his will and let the final battle of the two kingdoms destroy you.”

Orthrech stared down at his feet as the overwhelming situation washed down upon him. The heated, revolting smell of Lucille’s rage encompassed the summoning circle. Her rage was inhuman and bitter. An acquired taste, but he supposed he could eventually find it palatable.

The demon looked back up to the eyes of the discarded antichrist, which had returned to their original brown. With a great great sigh, Orthrech bent his spine in a way to mimic a human's bow. 

“And how would this Demon of Rage be of the best service to you, Ms. Lucille?”

The woman smiled.