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If Steve were being honest, he would have to admit that he wasn’t actually expecting the ritual to work. Just… really? Who believed in this stuff? Demons didn’t exist. Still, he hadn’t been able to resist picking up the old, tattered book in the back of the bookshop, had barely been able to let it go for the girl behind the register to ring it up. He didn’t remember anything from the walk home, too busy flipping pages to give Bucky anything more than a distracted-at-best greeting before tromping his way down the stairs to the basement. He didn’t know where he’d found the chalk. It’d just suddenly appeared in his hand and he’d set about drawing out the summoning circle depicted in the book’s pages without a second thought.
Now the room was filling with smoke, though, and the acrid stench of sulfur. A feeling that wasn’t quite fear trilled through Steve as he stared wide-eyed at the figure rising up before him. It was male, a beautiful young man who would have had Steve tripping over himself to flirt with if it weren’t for the deep red horns curling from his temples and the glowing gold eyes that had turned their gaze on him.
Sinful lips twitched upward in a slow grin.
“Why, Michael… I hardly recognized you without those little wings of yours. My, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”