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Meatpacking District, Manhattan, New York, New York.

For months they had planned this, thought it out, retrieved ingredients and artifacts.

Michael had gone out and picked up a girl in a bar, and Kevin had bought live chickens and a large pet spider. A red kneed tarantula specifically. Sarah had drawn out the sigil of the dark prince they wished to call on the floor, something as good as a name. For their purposes even better. Dressed ceremonially in their long, taupe colored robes, the hoods pulled up over their heads. None of this mentioned in the ritual text, but they felt it added authenticity to their little satanic cult. In reality the eighteen of them were only desperate, down on their luck, vulnerable and looking for a place to belong. Except for Derrick, he had been the one to bring them together. Though he was far from an Anton LaVey he was the most 'authentic' of their group. So he stood at the foot of the girl as she lay unconscious in the middle of the sigil, curves and angled and straight lines laid out to represent the spirit they would call. Holding the long kitchen knife one hand, Derrick lifted it over his head, chanting out in Latin.

"Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me." The baritone of his voice echoes through the building, down the halls, into rooms. The windows nearest him vibrate and the power of the words themselves sink into the sigil, energizing it.

The booming chant was enough to rouse the intended victim from her slumber. Awaking to her hands and her ankles tied together, a gag tied around her head and stuffed in her mouth. That was when she started kicking and screaming.

Some of the cloaked figures standing around the circle became anxious. They were normal people, some had 9-5 jobs, they were in this for the wealth and for the fame. Not one of them had killed anyone before. Michael, Sarah, Evey and Derrick were the only ones who seemed to remain untouched by it all. This had not been his first time, he was accustomed to this. To the killing, the summoning, he'd attended his fair share over the last hundred years.

One of them, Franco, began to mutter one o the infernal prayers they'd been taught. When that failed to calm his nerves his thumbs twiddle nervously and he opened his mouth. "Can we do something to shut her up? Please?" His pleading earned him an elbow to the ribs. Lucas was the one to get him to join, albeit reluctantly at first. And then the promise of power and women did away with the reluctance, until tonight.

"Just cram it, man." Lucas had brought his school friend into the group, hoping that it would garner him favor and put him somewhere higher in the cult. Franco couldn't make him look bad now.

Derrick went on, their glorious leader, the words repeated over and over. When the cue was given Michael bashed the chicken against the floor inside the circle, its blood splattered across the ground and on the girl. A moment later, the girl had her gag removed and the Tarantula forced into her mouth and down her throat before the cloth was replaced. The spider panicked, it bit and struggled and the girl screamed and choked. Finally after one last line Derrick drove the blade into her heart. And in an instant the body stilled. There was no heart beat, no screams.The spider had even already died in her throat. The cult around her stood perfectly still. It seemed an eternity as they waited patiently. It felt like hours, days perhaps passed before anything moved.

And then it did. She stood up, as if lifted up on wires the girl levitated, like a marionette on strings. Joints lifted, the rest dangled before her head snapped up and the spider flew from her maw, followed by an intake of air. Her eyes jaundiced, wide, wild, unpredictable. One might thing she an escaped patient of an asylum. The cult was in awe, now they would have all the power they wanted, the fame, the money. They wouldn't be the over looked under appreciated any longer. Snapping her broken jaw into place the creäture inhabiting the girl's body looked around at the little congregation around it before grinning wickedly.

"Howdy, howdy, lads and lasses, would anyone care to lend me their glasses?" He/she did not have any kind of impaired vision, but it did want to hide the sick eyes that it manifested in the host body. Derrick was quick to hold out a pair, stashed in his robes as he expected such a request. Again, not his first rodeo. Taking a step forward the demon took the glasses slipping them on. "Derick the cleric. Called me up from the pit, are there words or rhymes you wish to spit?" The leader of the cult nodded silently. The demon motioned for him to go one.

"We called you from hell so that you might pass judgement and cast damnation over this city." Practiced lines, words he'd said before to others.

"And just where is this winner's chicken dinner?" It asked after slipping on the sunglasses, looking about at the others and taking a wif of the air.

"The frightened one twiddle his thumbs." A chill went down Franco's spine, Lucas' as well. Had he condemned Franky by pushing him to join? He immediately started twiddling his own thumbs nervously. It stalked towards them, watching them both. First it set its hands on Franco's shoulders softly, stroking out the wrinkles in the fabric, lowering the hood and patting his cheek with a twisted closed mouth smile. 

"Frrrrranco, right?" Its voice was the sound cancer made if cancer had a voice.

Franco nodded.
"I'm not going chew on you," Patting the scared man on the shoulder, the cult member relaxed. "But your friend I'm going to end."

No one had a chance to react as fingers came up through Lucas' belly, and into his chest as he was disemboweled where he stood. Blood came up and poured from his mouth before he fell to the floor. The beast fell on the corpse and began feeding, Franco ran, Derrick stood unphased with some of the more experienced members while the others shocked, appalled and disturbed.

When it finished, the girl's body straightened up, wiped the blood from its mouth with the back of its hand and looked around. Cronies with weak stomachs were what he saw. "I've got to clean up, or should I tell all I'm covered in catsup?"

Quickly shown to a place to clean up, the knife removed from between the two ribs, dressed in new clothes. Put in a car Derrick instructed Sarah to take the demon to central park for further feeding.

"Lord Vetis prefers children." were his last words to her. A simple lie. He preferred women and followers. The thing would feed on her and then he would find his brother and make his life a living hell.