The top of the page read 'Cassiel' in elaborate writing. The words 'unknown' were written right beneath the name. The book claimed that this Cassiel was an angel of sorts in his true form. He frowned. This angel didn't look much like an angel. A demon maybe, or a spirit. But the book insisted, saying they were a force of good in several religions. A healer, a lover of humanity even. Kaz thought the whole 'love and healing' thing was sort of ridiculous. Eater of humans, maybe. He skimmed through the page, grabbing the translated version out from its spot at the back of the book. At the very bottom, it said something about calling. Or was it summoning? Google translate wasn't the best sometimes. He supposed it didn't really matter how it was worded. He was going to try it anyways.
He put a finger in the page on Cassiel before flipping to the very back of the book. The back cover was oddly thick, and he dug his nails into a small slot near the spine. The wooden panel popped open, and he set it on the carpet next to him. Inside was an odd collection of assorted things, buttons and ink and thumbtacks and things. He grabbed a small tin out of the box, setting it on the paper so he didn't lose track of it. He then grabbed a small bundle of black twigs, a couple of feathers, and a small pot of ink. He closed the small panel back in place before setting the book gently on the floor. He got to his feet, padding quietly over to the shelf next to his bed. It was almost impossible for him to reach the top of it without standing on the large bed. His mom insisted he use the stepping stool she bought him, but he preferred to keep it tucked away in the corner.
He reached up to the very top of the shelf, feeling for something. His hand closed around something cold and metallic, and he grabbed it from the dust. He slid off the bed, going back to sit on the carpet with the book. He took the tin and placed the different items he had taken out of the book into it. Before he closed the tin, however, he looked down at the object he had taken from his shelf. It was a small toy motorcycle, painted a faded red. It was of an older model, a 1985 Honda Rebel with scratched paint and specs of dust. One of the handlebars was snapped off, and the words 'Kaz Weathers' were written clumsily on a small price tag he had tied to the remaining handlebar. It was a small model he had made himself when he had gotten it for his birthday a year or two ago. It was his most prized possession, and he was proud of being able to complete such a small, finicky project with his clumsy 10 year old hands.
Giving the motorcycle one last look, he closed his eyes and placed it in the tin. Gently, he closed the musty old book and tucked it safely beneath his bed, far out of sight of the prying eyes of his mother. He took the tin in one small hand, walking over to his closet to grab an old, ripped hoodie off the back of his desk chair. He slipped it on before stuffing the tin in its pocket, flipping the hood up and walking out of his room. He walked out, down the old stairs that creaked when he put his weight on them, past the kitchen counter. His mom was sitting at the kitchen table, drowning herself in paperwork. He stopped for a moment as he walked by her. She hadn't noticed him yet. He could walk right out the door if he wanted.
"I'm going to the lake, mom." She looked up from the papers, annoyed at first, but as her eyes landed on him her expression softened.
"Okay sweetie. Just try to be home before dark, alright? I know your bike has lights and all that, but it's still dangerous to be out on your own at night." Kaz nodded.
"Yeah mom. I'll be home before it's too late."
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