"Dude, are you sure about this?" Phil Rowling asked.
"Yes, now come on," Jake Pulman hissed. He looked down either side of the narrow stone corridor before beckoning Phil into the room.
"What if we get into trouble," Phil said. Wargsnouts College for Warlocks was a big break for him. He really didn't want to go back to flipping burgers.
"Dude, it will be fine," Jake said, grabbing his collar and pulling him into the room.
On the other side of the wooden door was a small room with two single beds. Heavy red velvet drapes were drawn across narrow windows. The covers on the bed were the same shade of blood red. There was a small sink in one of the corners and a basic bedside cabinet stood next to each bed.
"What's this place?" Phil asked.
"It's a spare bedroom for visiting lecturers," Jake replied. "The ones doolallie Dahl doesn't like. It hasn't been used for a while. Did you get it?"
"Yeah," Phil said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a book that looked as big as two doorstops welded together.
"Wow dude," Jake said, his eyes lighting up. "The Daemonica Malefique."
They laid the book down on one of the beds. It was bound in leather, or at least they hoped it was bound in leather and not some other... less wholesome material. The title looked like it had been scorched into the cover with a brand.
"You know what this is?" Jake said, looking up over the book. "It's our ticket to one truly bodacious night of hedonism."
Phil only partially shared his friend's enthusiasm. The book smelt scorched and there was another odour as well, something like sulphur.
"No one saw you take it?" Jake asked.
"Positively."
"Excellent. Then there's nothing to worry about. We'll do the ritual, have a bit of you know what," Jake winked, "and have the book back before anyone notices it's missing."
Jake pulled out a piece of chalk from a box of various vials and other wriggling things and began to draw a circle on the stone floor beneath one of the beds.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Phil asked. "I mean we've only just started Practical Daemonology."
"Dude, just chill. I talked to the Scrote. He does this all the time."
"The Scrote's a filthy bastard," Phil said.
"Yeah, but he knows his shit," Jake said. "He said most of these rituals are just a pile of crap anyway."
"But aren't 'they' dangerous," Phil said.
"Not according to the Scrote. They're only really dangerous if you're dumb enough to fuck them. When it comes to anything else they aren't very powerful."
"Yes, but aren't we summoning them here so we can fuck them?" There was some logic Phil was missing here.
"Ah, but only up the back passage," Jake said, craftily tapping his nose. "You see, it's only their pussy that's dangerous. Their pussy's their mouth. Stick your dick in there without some heavy duty command clauses and they'll suck you dry in an instant. It's safe if you do them up the ass though. That's what the Scrote said."
"I suppose the Scrote would know."
"Absolutely. Rolly was sent up to his tower to serve detention once. He said he heard all sorts of noises while he was waiting outside the door. He thought the Scrote might be giving one of the juniors a real ass-slapping, but then he heard a girl giggling.
"Now Rolly's a bit dim, so he knocks on the door anyway. He said the Scrote answered the door with half his shirt hanging off and his hair all over the place and looking pissed of at someone disturbing him. And Rolly, not having much sense, starts babbling about detention while this slender female hand with black fingernails comes into view and starts tweaking the Scrote's nipple.
"And all fat Rolly can think of is how happy he is that the Scrote's cancelled his detention."
"The Scrote is one filthy bastard," Phil said.
"That's what I mean," Jake said, "The Scrote's an expert on all this. If he says the only thing that's important is the summoning ritual then he's probably right."
Jake opened up the tome and flicked the pages until he reached the right spot.
"Dude, now that's what I'm talking about."
The page was illustrated with a spidery line drawing of a scantily clad girl with horns, bat wings and a tail.
"Just think about it. Soon one of those is going to be right here and ready to satisfy your every little twisted desire."
Phil felt his cock stiffen with excitement at the prospect.
"Everything?"
"Everything," Jake confirmed. "The Scrote said they're complete masters of giving pleasure."
Turning the pages revealed a succession of more explicit pictures. It was very... ahem... educational.
"But remember to stay out of their pussy," Jake said.
"What about blow jobs?" Phil asked.
"Dunno," Jake said. "The Scrote said nothing about that. I think they have fangs though. We should probably wait until we've had a bit more practise before trying that out."
Phil flicked through the pages.
"There's an awful lot of pages in this section," Phil pointed out. "Maybe we should..."
"Dude, the book's like a bazillion pages. By the time you've read it you'd be as old as doolallie Dahl and wouldn't be able to do anything with one of them anyway. I ain't reading it all. You?"
Phil shook his head.
"So just chill," Jake said. He held a penknife in one hand and a squirming white mouse in the other. "It will be fine. Now hurry up and draw your pentagram."
*****
Phil was such a damn pussy sometimes, Jake thought as he brought the knife across the mouse's throat and let the blood spatter into a small wooden bowl. What was the point of being a warlock if you couldn't summon up a bit of daemonic tail now and again?
Everyone knew the stories about the Scrote, about the sighs and moans people heard from his quarters going deep into the night. There were rumours he kept a pair of them in his room for continuous access.
There were the other stories as well, like about those two tax collectors that had pissed him off. They'd found them one morning, dead in their offices and smiling ear to ear like one of the Joker's victims from the first Batman movie.
Sure, 'they' could be dangerous, but only if you didn't know what you were doing.
Jake looked back at the tome to check he had the right ingredients.
Blood, check.
Rose petals, check.
Silver, check.
