The first time that Bill met Six she had been on an altar surrounded by flickering candles. Of course, Bill was not his real name. It was really Bael-Sharoth, Baron of hell and lord of torment. But his friends just called him Bael. Not that demons really had friends. The best they could manage was an entity that wasn't currently trying to deceive or kill them.
When the cult started summoning him, Bael had barely had time to grab his thick winter parka off its hook before the dimensional gateway sucked him away from his warm cozy nook in hell and thrust him into the cold frigid world of the living. He had found himself standing in the center of a crudely drawn summoning circle surrounded by a dozen cultists in robes that were just as surprised as he was.
"What exactly do you people want?" He had asked as he slipped on his coat. "I'll have you know that I was in the middle of a particularly gripping grimoire when you summoned me. It would be fair to say that I was engrossed. And I had a cup of tea too, with some honey and lemon."
"Hail, Demon." The cult leader spoke. "We have summoned you from the depths of-"
Bael cut him off. "Just get to the point." He said, tapping his watch with a long thin clawed finger.
(Why a demon would need a watch was a mystery, much more so why it would be necessary for that watch to be set five minutes fast. The truth was that Bael was constantly late for meetings and had set his watch forward as a last ditch effort to show up on time.)
Momentarily flustered, the cult leader looked to his subordinates. Eventually he just shrugged and removed his hood. "Alright, we offer you this child in return for wealth."
Bael let out a snort. "Well I don't want her. What else have you got to bargain with?" He eyed the assembled group critically then extended a finger to point at a hooded figure near the exit. "I'd take that tall guy in the back. He's evil. Oh I'd take him in a heartbeat, if I had a heartbeat."
Before anyone could stop him the tall man had bolted for the exit and was gone. "Well that's too bad." Bael said with a smile. "What else have you got?"
The cult leader groaned with frustration. "You have to take the child! We offer the child, you give us money. That's the deal."
"No, it isn't. What would I do with an innocent soul?" Bael sighed. "Look, I blame popular culture for this, but it's a common misconception that we prey on the innocent. With very few exceptions demons are really only interested in corrupted souls like your friend the track star."
He gestured towards the exit. "So either find something to offer me, or let me go home to finish my book and my tea." He paused to think. "You don't happen to have any biscuits, do you? I think I'm out."
The cult leader raised his hand. "Can you give us a moment to talk amongst ourselves?"
"By all means." Bael crossed his arms and made a point of looking away. He could hear the hushed whispers of a dozen very confused cultists trying to decide their best course of action. Like any other committee fighting against a deadline, they weren't gaining much headway.
It was around then that Bael had noticed a trail of ants leading to the edge of the summoning circle. He eyed the insects with curiosity. In all his centuries he'd never seen that before. With a chuckle Bael realized why.
Whoever had made the circle of containment had used sugar instead of sacred salt. Really that shouldn't have surprised him. Everything about the summoning had been barely competent and cut rate. The runes were barely legible and the circle itself was really more of an oval. Not to mention the chanting which had been abysmal, and not in a good way.
Gingerly, Bael edged his hoof towards the containment circle, expecting any moment to feel the hair singing spine tingling jolt of occult energy. But no jolt came. With a shy smile Bael casually broke the summoning circle and stepped outside. With a nod to himself he quickly hopped back inside before any of the cultists could notice.
"I've made a decision." Bael said. "I will take the girl, and in exchange I will give each of you her weight in gold."
"What made you change your mind?" One of the cultists asked suspiciously. He was clever, but unluckily for him he was also greedy.
"Demon's prerogative." Bael shrugged. "But more than anything I'm just bored and want to go home. Time's ticking, take it or leave it. Do you want to be rich or leave here empty handed?"
"Alright, you've got a deal." The leader said warily. "But don't you try anything, I know that you can't step outside the circle or harm us so long as it's intact."
"That would be correct." Bael said as he stepped out of the circle. "Now which one of you geniuses used sugar instead of blessed salt?"
One of the robed fingers sheepishly raised its hand. The leader looked from the escaped demon to the guilty cultist in shock and disbelief. "Really, Paul? You had one job. One job!"
"Sorry, Mike. I couldn't find the salt. I swear I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never thought the ritual would work in the first place-"
Mike cut Paul off with a glare. "Don't, just don't."
Bael cracked his knuckles. "Alright, now which of you fine gentlemen would like to go first?"
A few minutes later the room was empty except for a sleeping girl on an altar, eleven golden statues, and a thousand happy ants.