Max studied the circle with interest. He knew enough of other disciplines to recognize what this sorcerer had been trying to do. "Fascinating," he said, forgetting the frigid arias he leaned in for a closer look. "The theory is solid but the execution seemed flawed. Your hunch was right, Lenya, I think this is an inexperienced magician that got lucky. The kind that attracts the wrong sort of attention. From the public, from people like us, or. . ."

Max trailed off, his brow furrowed, the fascination overriding even the cold for him. He fumbled into his pockets, withdrew a bag of salt, began to quickly but efficiently form a triangle around the preexisting circle. "There's things that do not like to be left out. They want respect, at least lip service. Otherwise they'll completely undermine what you do. Back in Seattle, young wizards use to come and ask me for advice," Max said as he finished the triangle, then added a few more intricacies in the salt. Satisfied with his work, he pulled out the shofar from under his coat and indicated that Lenya should cover her ears. "I always told them the same thing: let the demons play or they'll take their ball and go home."

With that he blew on the shofar, three short, sharp bursts. Enough to catch the attention of demons, enough to annoy them. Enough to draw their attention to this amateur getting too big for his britches. The magic triangle limited their focus on only the alchemist's circle, and the demons inevitably hoping to rush in and demand tribute or service from whoever had created it would completely destabilize the spell. At least, that was the theory. "You might want to go upstairs," he said to Lenya. "I don't expect any demons to actually manifest in this basement. But they will definitely influence the area. Poltergeist activity, temperature changes, that sort of thing. Just give it time."