Gravity Rises (S1)

NW: Part Four

Gideon Northwest tromped through the deep snow in a foul mood.

He'd agreed to help Pacifica summon Bill, yes. He was on his way to her now: He had the Journal with the instruction, and there was no way he would let her do it alone. But he didn't want to do it at all. Bill was bad enough when he showed up on his own; never once in Gideon's life had he invited the demon to come. He didn't want to see that stupid eye of his any more than he had to.

He kicked up snow with his shoe. Gideon was helping Pacifica in the hopes that he could keep things under control — or, at least, more control than would be possible without him. But as soon as Bill showed up. . . well, Cipher ran his own game. Gideon was kidding himself if he thought that he could attenuate the demon's chaos.

Still, he went. He'd agreed to this, and Pacifica was counting on his help. He could turn around and keep the incantation to himself, stopping Pacifica's plans in their tracks — but then she would bother him about it until he gave in. Besides, Bill probably wanted to be summoned by her. He hadn't shown up in Gideon's dreams and tried to put a stop to it.

Gideon groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "Get ahold of yourself, Northwest," he muttered to himself. This was probably a terrible idea, but far be it from him to get in Pacifica's way. It's not like he could stop her from meeting Bill, not if she — or Bill — really put their minds to it.

He sighed one last time and continued on his way to the rendezvous.

A few minutes later, he ran down the sloping hill to the tiny valley. When he came to a stop, backpedaling a bit to get his balance, he could see Pacifica in front of him with her summoning circle at her feet. The light was considerably lower down here: The sun was about to set, and the pine boughs created a natural ceiling over the valley. Gideon activated his amulet; Pacifica had done the same. He wondered if he'd seen her without her amulet activated since she came back from Portland.

"I had hoped you would grace us with your presence soon," Pacifica said sarcastically.

Gideon ignored the jibe. "Last chance, Pacifica. You can still back out of this."

Her eyes flitted down to her sacrifice — what kind of creature was that in the center, anyway? — and back up to Gideon. "No. I'm doing this."

Gideon sighed.

"Do you have your Journal?"

Gideon pulled it out, flipping to the page on Bill. It made him feel a little more in control to think that Pacifica wouldn't have the incantation without him. . . but only a little. "Here it is," he said. "Say this spell here, and he should come. If he doesn't, well, we're lucky."

Pacifica rolled her eyes as she took the book and read over the spell. "All right. Seems easy enough." Her eyes were intent on the words as she worked out their pronunciation.

As she read, Gideon took in her set-up: the Cipher Wheel, spray-painted on the dead grass and framed by candles; the small pyramid of money that surrounded a pair of six-fingered gloves; and, on the top, the dead pink thing. "Where'd you get all this?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she said without looking up. "Oh, just a robbery."

Just a robbery. Why was he letting this girl summon a demon, again?

Before he could think of an answer, Pacifica took a deep breath and started chanting. "Triangulum, entangulum."

Here we go, thought Gideon.

"Vene foris dominus mentium."

The candlelight flared up as she chanted.

"Vene foris videntis omnium!"