The pentagram was laid out on the floor, the candles were lit, and the sacrificial frog was ribbiting his last in his cage.
All that was left to do was sing.
She took a deep breath and began to croon, eyes closed in concentration.
The devil appeared in a cloud of red smoke.
“Stop!” he barked.
“Your voice is like nails down a chalkboard. For the hate of God, stop!”
He snapped his fingers and magicked away her voice box. “You’re not cut out for the occult, love. Release the frog and take yourself to church.”Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com