Apprentice Devil

The acrid smell of sulfur filled the Basement, carried on a wave of dry heat.

A human-shaped figure took shape in the Green Smoke behind Annan. She wore a black suit cut for a man, a curved Ram Horn grew from her forehead, and her black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail.

"A member of the Winchester family..." The solidifying figure radiated order and evil. Her cold, slit-pupiled eyes fixed on him. "It's time to repay your debt."

"Uh... I think you've got the wrong person. I'm not a Winchester." Facing the Devil, Annan reached behind him for the door handle. It felt like plunging his hand into steam, and he jerked it back in pain.

"But I know someone from the Winchester family. If you want to see her, I can call her over?"

The threat closing in on him made Annan forget the pain in his fingers. He tried to put some distance between them, but the Devil was too close. He wasn't sure he could cast the Lesser Summoning Spell.

Fireball?

Were Devils afraid of fire?

"At the cost of a soul that broke its contract, suffer this profound terror..."

The Devil refused to talk. The spotless Parchment rose into the air and unfurled. Its cryptic writing became burning shackles, sending up illusory flames steeped in death and ill omen.

Annan knew little about Devils, but even he could guess this was the dreadful price of breaking a Contract—

Except that, to Annan, the burning words that looked like iron chains were merely unpleasant to look at.

"Why aren't you afraid?" The Devil, still preparing to punish his soul, faltered.

"I can't read it."

Annan could tell the ancient, cryptic symbols were writing, but not a single part of them was familiar. "And I'm not