Phil had always hated exams. It didn't seem to matter how much revision or prep he did, or how well he knew the subject. He'd sit down, stare at the question sheet and then his mind would go blank, or worse, a million different facts would start careering around inside his head like drunken dodgem cars. And that was for normal non-daemon-world exams. Here, at Wargsnouts, if you failed a test there was a chance of dying or worse.
Phil didn't even know what the test was on. The Scrote had neglected to inform his students. Phil shuffled through his notes. Hellscape Topology... Rites and Rituals... Extra-Dimensional Daemonology... anything? It was impossible.
Phil was surprised when Darvill breezed up to him and spoke. The other student had plenty of cause not to be friendly with him, when you considered it was his succubi that were responsible for killing Darvill's friends. Sort of.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Phil said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill didn't seem to be bothered about it. Or the upcoming exam. Darvill was the sort that didn't seem to get fazed by anything.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
That was fine and all that, Phil thought. He shuffled miserably through his notes.
"I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it," he said.
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
Phil looked at the members of staff Darvill pointed to and didn't understand. They were a mismatched bunch. Cartifax Brion Jacks could pass for a P.E. teacher. High Magus R. L. Conley looked as though he'd just stepped out of an old horror movie. There was no pattern, no connection Phil could see.
Was this something Phil was supposed to know? Some lesson he'd missed?
Even Verdé seemed amused by his bafflement.
"It's not his strongest suit," she responded to a question Darvill asked her.
Everyone seemed to know more than Phil.
One of The Scrote's succubi, resplendent like a star showgirl, opened the door and looked around the room. For one heart-stopping moment Phil thought it was his turn, but then the succubus called out Darvill's name instead.
That gave Phil another half hour to shuffle through his notes in a last-ditch effort to cram for a test he didn't have the slightest clue about. He wondered if it might have been better if the succubus had called out his name instead, if only to get this damn exam over and done with. And now he'd mixed his notes up. They were an incoherent jumble. He didn't think this extra half hour or so was going to change anything.
He lifted his head and turned to Verdé. "Hey wait. Darvill spoke to you directly."
When Phil had first met Darvill, the other student had ridiculed the notion of talking to other warlock's daemons.
"Yes," Verdé said. "It's been quite pleasing to observe his personal growth. There's a lot of promise there. I think he'll develop into a fine warlock."
"You sound like you'd rather have been summoned by him instead of me," Phil said.
Verdé laughed. "Oh no. We're perfectly happy with the master we have."
She rested her head on Phil's shoulder and his nose was filled with the scent of fresh meadow flowers. His cock stirred in his pants.
Great. As if it wasn't difficult enough to concentrate already.
Phil's last-minute cramming was going so badly he was even glad of the interruption when another fellow student approached him. It was Adriana Mayall, but Phil had to do a double take as she'd changed so much since the last time he'd seen her. The skinny mop with a pale face hidden behind scraggly curtains of blonde hair was gone. Instead Phil found himself looking at a pretty young woman dressed very neatly in a business suit as if she was about to take an interview in the city. Even her posture was different. Phil hadn't realised it before, but she was taller than him when she stood up straight. There was an easier smile on her lips and she actually looked at Phil while talking to him rather than staring at the floor.
Her imp, Mr Buggeritall, was still present. He sat on her shoulder and puffed away on a foul-smelling stogie. He was different from before in that he was no longer naked. Like Adriana he was dressed in a suit right down to a miniature tie. Okay, not everything was different. He still leered at Verdé like a dirty old lecherous uncle.
"You look different," Phil said.
Adriana shrugged. "They told me there was no way to get rid of him, so we've come to an arrangement."
"She stops being a whiny little bitch feeling sorry for herself all the time and I stop embarrassing her in public," Mr Buggeritall said.
Adriana gave a little roll of her eyes that indicated she was not that far removed from the awkward girl she'd been before, despite her drastic change in appearance.
"Don't be like that, toots," the imp said. "It was for your benefit. I did it to toughen you up."
Adriana gave Phil a goofy little smile. "It is better than before."
The imp stood up and puffed out his chest. "I'm her personal trainer now."
Adriana suppressed a giggle. She looked down at Phil's notes.
"Revising for Magus Stine's test?" she asked.
"Yes," Phil replied. "Have you already taken it?"
Adriana nodded.
"What's it on?" Phil asked.
"It's odd," Adriana said. "Magus Stine wasn't present for the test, nor were any of the staff. It was just his succubi, three of them. They asked me some fairly straightforward questions about my background and Mr Buggeritall. I thought they were trying to put me at ease before the test began, then they told me it was over and I was fine."
She shrugged.
"Maybe after all the recent deaths, accidents and students going missing, they're taking some extra precautions to try and keep us safe."
Mr Buggeritall suddenly moved from Adriana's right shoulder to her left.
"Oi, what are you up to, Greenie?" he asked Verdé. His prominent lower jaw jutted out like a bulldog's.
"I thought I saw a little bit of fluff on her arm," she said, all innocence as she withdrew her hand.
Mr Buggeritall eyeballed her.
A spark of mischief lit up Verdé's green eyes. "You can watch," she said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the show."
Mr Buggeritall considered it...
...but not for very long.
He jammed a thumb against his chest. "The only one that gets to mess with toots is me," he said. "We're going to go far together."
Adriana gave an apologetic smile for her imp's antics, but there was none of the desperation Phil had seen before. It was as she'd said—she'd accepted it and come to an accommodation with the noisome imp's presence.
"You know it has to happen at some point," Verdé said.
"It will... when she's ready," Mr Buggeritall said with a determination that belied his tiny uncouth form.
The door to the test room opened and Phil's name was called out.
"I wouldn't worry," Adriana called after him. "I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Another one with promise," Verdé said as she and Phil walked to the test room. "Although she still has a long path to walk."
Phil was more concerned about his path coming to an end right here. He was looking at the succubus standing next to the open door and feeling anything but fine. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and random facts and pieces of information swirled through his head in a great impenetrable swarm.
Phil really really hated tests.
He entered the room and saw it was as Adriana had described—the only people in the room were three of The Scrote's succubi. With a sinking feeling Phil recognised the one sitting in the chair opposite him. She was the one who'd made him ejaculate into her hand on the very first day he'd gone to one of Stine's fast-track lectures. She also recognised Phil and smiled as though he was a piece of livestock she'd already bought and owned.
"Ah, the student who summoned a pair of inferior lust daemons. Phil Rowling, isn't it?" she said.
Phil nodded. "Um, how should I address you, Miss...?" he asked.
"Miss?" The succubus laughed. "We're not decrepit husks. I am Astrapia, this is Seleucida and that is Paradisea. We are here to see if you are fit to call yourself master of daemons."
She gestured to an empty chair opposite her.
"Sit down and we'll begin."
Phil looked down at the chair. He repositioned it and sat down.
That seemed easy enough, he thought.
Then the succubi started to take their clothes off. Admittedly, they hadn't been wearing much to begin with—little more than the skimpy black costumes of showgirl dancers—but there was a big difference between
not much
and
nothing at all
. Phil's eyes boggled and his Adam's apple worked furiously as the sex daemons peeled off their bodices to expose the bulging pink hemispheres of their breasts. Was there a succubus that
didn't
have a body gorgeous enough to turn a glamour model green with envy?
The succubus that had shown Phil in, Paradisea, saw his discomfort and paused. "Surely as a master of succubi you must be used to this by now."
"Yes, what a splendid idea," Verdé said as she removed her diaphanous green robes and hung them over the back of Phil's chair.
Phil was once again surrounded by gorgeous naked woman. And as usual he wished he could enjoy it without being terrified for his life and soul.
"Why don't you take off your robe as well?" Seleucida asked.
"We're already naked," Paradisea said. "You'll feel more comfortable if you're naked as well."
"If you're worried about your size, you shouldn't be," Seleucida said.
"We don't care how big or how small they are," Paradisea said.
