The problem with the succubi turning Phil's bathroom door into a portal back to their castle was he had to trek out to one of the communal toilets every time he needed a piss. He returned from one such morning call of nature to find Nÿte waiting for him in his bedroom. The succubus looked around the spartan bedroom provided for him by Wargsnouts College for Warlocks with an expression of mild disdain.
She was dressed in a tight black leather corset and thigh-high kinky boots that showed off most of her flawless white skin. She looked like an archetypal whip-wielding demoness from a videogame designed for sex-starved post-pubescent nerds. That was pretty much the default appearance when it came to succubi and Nÿte was the scariest of all the succubi Phil had encountered.
He briefly considered ducking back out and carrying on down the corridor. He knew it would be a bad idea. She hated any outward signs of cowardice and probably already knew he was there. She was also lethally quick with that whip coiled up at her waist. He knew that from experience. Phil sucked down a breath and entered the room.
"Ah, there you are," she turned and said to him with a smile.
Nÿte was extremely beautiful in the classical sense: all high cheekbones and icy perfection. Even her eyes—cold black abysses—and lips—plush, kissable, but as black as a moonless night above an open grave—didn't detract from her beauty. Her long black hair was tied back in an austere ponytail. A classic Silicone Valley dominatrix.
Nominally Phil was as much master of her as he was of Rosa and Verdé. That lessened the terror he felt in her presence not one single iota.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm to accompany you to your classes today," Nÿte answered.
"You're not going to...erm...eat anyone, are you?"
Nÿte elegantly put a hand in front of her mouth and laughed. "I'm in a college containing hundreds of warlocks, some of whom count amongst the most powerful magic users on this world. Such brazen behaviour on my part would be a little reckless, wouldn't you agree."
She had a point.
He flinched as Nÿte stood next to him and put an arm around his waist.
"I love how you're still terrified of me," she whispered in his ear. "It's very endearing."
Phil was hoping these advanced courses The Scrote had fast-tracked them onto would enable him to better understand what this 'mastery' actually meant. He also hoped he survived long enough to see the end of the course.
"Let's see what they're teaching young warlocks nowadays."
They left Phil's dormitory room and walked towards the lecture theatres.
"Where are Rosa and Verdé?" he asked.
"They were summoned to Singapore for a hot threesome with a pimply-faced eighteen-year-old. He managed to decipher parts of an obscure summoning ritual he found on the internet."
This confused Phil. Wasn't he supposed to be the current master? Again he suspected that word did not mean what most people thought it meant. He really hoped the course would clear this up.
Nÿte checked an elegant gothic watch on her slender wrist. "Hmm, it's probably just a twosome by now," she said. "Knowing Rosa and Verdé, they won't be back for a while. Until then you've got me to keep you company."
She gave his waist a friendly squeeze. If Phil hadn't already gone a few moments ago he felt sure he would have pissed himself.
"Isn't this going to look a little strange?" Phil asked as they walked arm in arm down the corridor.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not all about looks. I think you're adorable." Nÿte kissed him on the cheek.
"No, I mean what are the students going to think?" Phil said. "They've already seen me with Rosa and Verdé. Now they're going to see me with you. We're only supposed to have one daemon."
"That's easy," Nÿte said. "Succubi can alter their appearance to match their master's desires. Just tell them I'm Rosa..." She paused, looking for a moment as though she'd swallowed something distasteful. "...Verdé," she corrected.
"Are you doing that now?" Phil asked.
"Doing what?"
"Changing your shape to match my unconscious desires?"
"No. You prefer to see us as we really are," she said. "It's quite charming actually."
They reached an archway that led to one of the meeting foyers outside the tertiary Underhall lecture theatre. Two of The Scrote's succubi stood by the entrance, resplendent in their tight black uniforms and long pink flumes.
"Do you know them?" Phil asked.
"No", Nÿte answered with an amused smile. "The Dominion of Lust contains many succubi."
"Oh, I thought you might," Phil said. "Rosa said you were at the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures for a while."
"She did?"
"Um yeah." Phil flinched, afraid he'd inadvertently brought up a subject Nÿte didn't like to talk about.
Nÿte smiled and gave a little laugh.
About thirty or so students milled around in the waiting area outside the lecture theatre. Phil again felt the country bumpkin in his tatty black robes. It was still early on in the course and many of the students hadn't had a chance to get to know their fellows. They stood awkwardly alone or in groups of two or three. Phil was in the same boat; the only student he'd spoken to hadn't survived the first lecture.
There was one exception. There was a group of six students, all male, that stood out. They seemed confident and spoke to each other as if they'd been friends for a long time. Phil was surprised when they noticed him and headed over to talk.
"Your succubus is looking very intimidating today," A man in a sharp suit and spectacles said. He appeared to be the leader of the little group. "I'm Evan Darvill." Darvill was tall, athletically built and had short black hair. Despite the esoteric nature of its studies, there was no real dress code at Wargsnouts. Phil had his singed robes; Darvill wore a smart preppy suit that looked more suited to the trading floor of a stock exchange.
"Phil Rowling," Phil said, shaking the other man's hand. He had a predictably firm grip. "This is Nÿte."
The other students looked so surprised Phil wondered if he'd committed some kind of social blunder.
"Warlocks don't usually introduce their daemons," Darvill said with an amused smile.
His daemon was perched on his shoulder like a monkey. It was one of the oddest daemons Phil had ever seen. It had the same general build as a monkey, but with twelve, maybe fourteen, spindly arms, each terminating in long grasping fingers. Its eyes were huge and its head so full of them there seemed little room for anything else. Each eye was looking in a different direction, as though the creature was trying to observe everything at once. It was disconcerting watching its red pupils spin round and round as it hopped from one shoulder to another.
"This is John Brennan," Darvill said, motioning to a ginger-haired man in a white lab coat. "His family have worked in the Underlabs for generations. He's a tech-head. If you need your laptop fixed or your console chipped, John's your man."
"We believe it's time to move on from the Dark Ages." Brennan gave Phil's tatty old robes a contemptuous glance. "Magic and 21st century technology don't have to be mutually exclusive."
The daemon floating above Brennan didn't seem to share his hi-tech ideals. It looked to Phil like several metal plates, like old-fashioned armour, sliding over and around each other in a ball. It was hard to focus on, as if the rotating plates were moving through more planes than the usual three.
"Where's the other one?" Brennan asked. "The one with the long green hair?"
"She's...um...occupied," Phil said.
One of the group, a tall fat man, smirked.
