The transference process was always an uncomfortable experience for Zag. Even though it had been nearly seventy years since he'd last suffered through it, it remained clear in his mind. It wasn't so much the queasiness that bothered him, it was the barrage of negative feelings and the sense of impending doom that accompanied it.

He grasped the small soul-safe that hung about his neck. The marble-sized hollow orb was his only hope in avoiding an eternity in the deepest level of Hell. Baal had made it very clear that if, in two days, he returned with the orb still empty, he would be directly banished to that nightmare landscape, never to leave it again. His name would be stricken from all the roles of the Infernal Kingdom and it would be as though he had never existed.

Those dark and debilitating thoughts filled his mind during the transport. He barely even noticed when the fog in his mind cleared and the room around him materialized.

He lay in the center of a magical circle. The room itself was bright and airy. Its walls were covered in posters from every heavy metal band of the past forty years. The floor was covered in dirty clothes and a double bed was in the corner, unmade. Next to the bed there was a hookah and three bongs.

Zag was taking this all in when a head suddenly appeared from behind the bed.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! It worked!"

Zane Maddox spent a great deal of his time alone. It was the preferred option given that the alternative would probably involve his step-brother, Atticus. Zane always felt that fate was a cruel mistress with a sick sense of humor. He was dependent on his brother, at least for now, and his brother was, by any definition of the word, a freak.

They had been orphaned when Zane was fourteen and the entire bulk of their parent's estate was left to Atticus. The past five years were a series of paranoid nightmares driven by his brother's disturbed lunacy.

Atticus fancied himself a sociopath and misfit, convinced that the world was filled with pathetic mistakes to whom he was superior. He never actually harmed Zane physically in any way, but did spend most of their time together ranting his anti-social screed and discouraging his younger brother from normal contact with the outside world.

All of these tragic conditions aside, Zane was a surprisingly cheerful individual. He spent most of his time painting, convinced that in the near future, when he had raised enough money through his e-bay business selling antique clothing (both his parents were once quite fashionable and there were many closets full of clothing), he would have enough cash to sever all ties with Atticus. Once that was done, he hoped to be a full-time artist.

Atticus, on the other hand, collected books on witchcraft and satanism. His collection was envied by those in his circle. He didn't really believe in it, but it was in concert with the image he presented to the public. Numerous tattoos, piercings, and body modifications completed the look. This all served to create the image he desired as the lead singer of a dreadful death-rock band named Putrid Blood Clot. Zane preferred Bach.

Zane was fascinated by Atticus' library and often incorporated the mystical illustrations within the books into his own art. Two days ago, bored and with Atticus out of the house for a 'tour' with his band, Zane decided to perform one of the rituals as a lark.

He drew the magical circle on the floor in Atticus' room, knowing his brother would probably find it 'cool' and also as a mild act of defiance. He then smoked some of his brother's pot and chanted an incantation from the tome.

When the room began to quiver and quake, he jumped behind the bed. When calm was finally restored and he looked toward the circle, all he could manage was the feeble exclamation, "Oh Shit! Oh Shit! It worked!"

There in the pentagram within the circle lay a bright blue, furry horned creature sporting dangerous looking fangs and fierce claws on his hands and feet. It did not take a genius to know what it was.

Zag sat up and looked around. As his head cleared, he noticed the young man staring at him in disbelief. It was time to announce himself.
"Who summons the Destroyer?" He said loudly and with as much menace as he could muster.

Zane stood nervously. He kept his distance, but walked around the circle studying its inhabitant.
"I am Zane," he said quietly, "I guess it was me that summoned you."

Zag smiled, so far, so good. He stood and spread his arms out. He didn't want to spook the conjurer. It was important that he set up a line of communication so that he could negotiate for the soul of this human who called him.
"I am here at your behest, Zane. What is it you desire?"

Zane scratched his head and answered meekly, "Nothing really, I was just messing around. I didn't actually think it would work."

This proclamation confused Zag. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Well, it did work, now what what would you like?"

Zane was confused, "What do you mean?"

Zag snorted in frustration, "You know, wealth, fame, the death of an enemy."

Zane couldn't stop from chuckling, "Really? In exchange for what?"

"Your soul, of course."

"Well that doesn't sound like a very good deal. I mean I've read enough to know that a few years of fame doesn't really stack up to an eternity of being boiled in a pot."

"We don't do that! That's disgusting, we flay, we poke and whip, other stuff too, but we don't boil!"

Zane smiled at the defensive tone of the demon. "Sorry for the accusation. I'm sorry to call you here on a wild goose chase, but I'm not interested in selling my soul."

"No, no," Zag pleaded desperately, "you have to make a deal, its my last chance. It's very important to me."

"Sorry man, not interested," his curiosity was aroused, "what do you mean it's your last chance?"

Zag slumped to the floor in dejection, "I needed this...look, it's not that bad in Hell. You get used to the torture. You can live like a king while you're alive, like an emperor even."

"Not gonna happen, Destroyer. Is that your name?"

Zag answered sadly, "My name is Zag. The Destroyer is my title," he lowered his eyes in shame, "that's not even my real title, my real title is Rateater."

Zane chuckled, "I'd change it too," he couldn't help but feel sorry for the creature slumped on the floor, "look maybe we can find you another soul, there are plenty of greedy people around."

Zag looked up at the boy and managed a smile, "Thanks, but it doesn't work that way. It has to be the summoner. I'm finished. Two days from now, I'll never see Earth again," he picked at his foot claws in dejection, "and I really like it here." He suddenly brightened slightly, "You wouldn't happen to have any candy around?"

The question took Zane by surprise, "Umm...sure. Hey listen, if I let you out of the circle, you won't eat me or rip me to shreds, will you? I'd kind of like to ask you a bunch of questions and we'd be more comfortable in the kitchen, that's where all the sweets are."

Zag perked up considerably and his eyes widened, "You'd do that? No...no, I promise I won't harm you. I'm not really fond of violence, a character flaw, I know. Just don't tell anyone."

Zane laughed, "Okay, I don't know why, maybe cause I'm stoned, but I'm going to trust you. Maybe it's because you look like Sully from Monster's Inc."

"Who?"

"Never mind, it's not important," Zane rubbed out a portion of the circle, "That should do it. Welcome to Earth, Zag."