What do you know, these warnings are written clearly in plain English. There's a known association between the amount of blood used and the life force summoned; using too little usually gets you comatose members of the target species. In universes with Powers, using too much might fetch one. This has happened due to operator error three times; twice it was lethal to everyone in the vicinity.

That doesn't make any sense.

How so?

There are fifteen Valar. There always have been. They can't have gotten any. Also - we'd have heard, if they had.

Anything else powerful that lives in your dimension?

There's Maiar. They're Valar but much much much smaller.

Maybe they got one of them? Something powerful enough to do damage but not so powerful that they couldn't stop it?

There are lots of those. The Valar would have noticed but I might not have heard about it.

Maybe if we use a lot more blood than operator error gets you, we get a Vala. And even if we don't, we might get something powerful enough to break us out of here.

Did you get an answer to the thing I asked you -

Yeah. I think they got some of your people but they died. Not sure how many.

I still kind of want to run away to Mongolia but I can't let them keep doing that.

Yeah.

Do you think if we got a Vala it'd live even if we messed something up - 

I am pretty sure nothing can kill a Vala.

I say we try it and we use a lot of blood, I think.

I think you're really good.

Some days I still try.

She copies the chants she needs, writes up and prints new fake paperwork, fills out her new fake paperwork, and goes back to find Kimberly Knett.

"Hey! I filled out most of it, if you could just give me the last few fields?"

"Yeah, okay."

"You're a lifesaver! Possibly literally."

She'll just wait a minute for her paperwork.

Paperwork.

Good good good. She'll just take this back down to her office and look at the field that asks about the language of any mystical chants used.

Aramaic.

Well.

She spends most of the rest of the day skulking around the internet trying to figure out anything in the neighborhood of how one goes about reading Aramaic. At the end of the day she is still not very sure but she feels like her stab at it might be slightly less in the dark.

Around seven she orders pizza, because if you're going to your death you should have pizza, or something. Ideally she would have chocolate, she thinks she read somewhere once that it's good to have sugar if you've lost a bunch of blood, but she doesn't think chocolate really gets delivered, so she'll have to make do with water and the overly cheery patterned first-aid kit she decided to keep at her desk the first time she saw someone die here.

Eventually the lawyers whose offices feed into hers leave for the day. Eventually most of the rest of the building clears out. 

All right. Time to see if the relevant room has ceiling tiles or if we have to dismantle it more dramatically, I guess.

I feel scared.

Me too. Hug?