Red and thick, a drop welled up and rolled don the flesh, dropping off the end of her finger and making a tiny splash on the floor.

Francesca placed the finger to her mouth, adding to her already stained lips as she gently wiped it off.

The pattern on the floor was almost complete, an intricate interlacing of sharp symbols and sweeping shapes. Francesca squeezed out a few more drops, placing each one carefully around the small triangles in the center of the pattern.

Satisfied that it was secure, she stepped back, shaking her arms and spraying droplet everywhere, but outside of the summoning circle she had created.

Clapping her slippery hands together, she began to chant in a low voice, the sounds guttural and harsh from a human tongue, calling down to the depths of Negaril, reaching the specific demon she wanted, then bringing them forth, binding them to her will, instead of the other way round.

The blood circle began to ooze, the lines blurring. A trick, meant to catch out the new, the unprepared, but Francesca was neither of those.

Her stained lips twisted into a malicious smile. This demon was hers, no matter what he threw at her.