“Um, sir?”

William looked up from the cumbersome arrangement of dictionaries and reference materials, taking a moment to stop thinking in two languages at once. One of the older students – Sam? Stan? – was peeking in through the crack in the door, clearly making effort to suppress a smile.

“Mrs. Young is here to see you.”

William blinked. There was absolutely no reason for his mother to be at the university. A family emergency?

But then a booming laughter sounded from the door, a sweet yet indelicate sound. “It’s Bloydd, lad. Now, off you go, I don’t think I need to be announced like a royal guest just to see my husband.”

…right, of course it was Gwen.

Back when he proposed, she, six years his senior, laughed in the same way. “Sweetheart, I don’t think even marrying you can make me young again. I’ll keep my name, thank you.”

(A little baffled, William then carefully asked if she wanted him to take her last name. She ruffled his hair, kissed his nose and asked how many books and articles had already been published under his name.)

Swan left, still looking confused, and William quickly jumped up to clear out a chair from a stack of ungraded papers.

“My dear,” they kissed and she gracefully sat on the squeaky chair. “I didn’t expect you, sorry it’s a mess here.”

“It’s always a mess with you,” she laughed, and the room suddenly felt bigger and lighter. “In fact, I came to see you because our home’s been terribly orderly lately. You’ve been spending way too much time working, don’t you think?”

William laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too awkward and wondered if the office was dark enough that she couldn’t see the bags under his eyes.

“It’s just that…” how did he explain it? Was there anything he could say about the book strategically buried on his desk under manuscripts and papers, anything that would let her know of its importance without worrying her too much?

“Is it urgent?” Gwen asked patiently, bless her soul.

“In a way?” William tried. He looked around the office, painfully aware of where the traces of chalk hadn’t fully worn off, where the edges of a circle were still visible on the floor.

“Okay,” Gwen continued, taking her hand into his. “Any chance you can ask… the dean, or whoever’s responsible? to extend the deadline?”

William blinked. There was no deadline, per se. There was a warning, there was a promise – and not of a good kind. But perhaps he didn’t need to make sure he’d read the entirety of the tome now, didn’t need to understand the details of each and every ritual described in it?

Perhaps what he needed to do, really, was to extend the deadline – find a way to keep the book safe for as long as he needed to study it.

In fact, wasn’t one of the first rituals in the book intended for protection of an object? A ward, to hide it and make sure only the person with a key could open it. With minimal tweaking, William probably could…

“And there you go, off thinking again.”

He laughed nervously, trying to conceal his excitement, “Sorry, you’re right, I should… I should do that.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m pretty much always right. Which is precisely why you should listen to me more often.”

He couldn’t help his smile, and leaned over to kiss her again. “I will. But right now I need to get that extension.”

“Right, right,” she got up, fixing her skirts. “I’ll leave you be so long as you promise to be home for dinner.”

“Promise.” Another kiss stolen. It was as if her mere presence gave him energy.

She left, satisfied, and William waited for her footsteps to die in the distance before hurriedly locking the door and getting the chalk out.

He knew the symbols and patterns by heart, having done the same many, many times. He pricked his finger with some difficulty, the skin, scarred over and over, growing thicker. The last symbol, to close the circle with the blood – a name uttered in a whisper, so as not to let any strangers overhear it – and the familiar black smoke swirled inside the circle, forming a vaguely humanoid shape.

“You again,” the devil rolled their eyes, the stinger at the end of their tail rocking back and forth in irritation.

“I just have a quick question,” William explained. These conversations had always been awkward – it was obvious the creatures didn’t want to be there, and he felt a little rude asking even if he always made a point to pay for their answers. “I… Right, so I got the book, and – if I put a ward on it, so it would be hidden from prying eyes and only I – as the rightful owner of the key – will be able to open it… would anyone still come for the book? As in, will it work on… otherworldly creatures, too?”

They usually go away for a while to search for the answer, but this time, the devil lingered. There was a smile on their face, and William felt like he’d missed something terribly important.

“Mhm, I can answer that,” the devil looked smug. “The book will be safe, be assured.”

“Ah,” William breathed out in relief. “Very well. Thank you.”

He handed over the payment – some gold, and a few trinkets he’d figured out this devil liked. The devil grinned again.

“Oh, no,” they intoned, and this time they looked quite genuine. “Thank you.”

As it disappeared into the smoke, their grin grew wider.

“Until we meet again,” echoed in the small room, as William was already grabbing his coat to finally go home, to hot dinner and his wife’s loving embrace.

The door closed behind him, the key’s jingle hurried and joyful.

The smoke dissipated, leaving little but a memory of a laughing voice. “May it be soon.”