She lit the final candle, muttering the last words of command. A breeze whipped through the shed, nearly putting out the candles, and a swirl of dust formed inside the summoning circle.
“Please, help me find a way to stay alive!” the girl begged, trying to sound stern in her command.
A form of smoke and embers writhed in the circle of candles, and slowly tendrils of smoke condensed into twisted humanoid form.
“You ask to be protected from your parents’ anger, to free yourself from their unending torments,” the demon growled. “But you offer nothing in return.”
“Take anything. If they continue much longer, I’ll be dead.”
The smoke swirled around the demon as it considered her words. “I want the part you refuse to give to anyone else.”
“My sewing?”
“Sure, demons like wearing fine things as well.”
The girl hesitated. She loved needlework. Embroidery. She practiced in secret, preparing for when she came of age and could use her skill to leave her home. She just had to survive until then.
The demon cackled. “Well, you aren’t using it anyway.”
Its words stung. How often had she needed to burn her work, to keep it hidden? Her father wouldn’t allow it. Embroidery was for the rich. Farms needed hands to tend it, cooks to feed its workers. Slaves to her father.
“You can have it.” She steeled herself against the longing and regret already pinching her insides.
Embroidery did her no good if she were dead.
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