Succubus Summoning 203

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.

"This big fellow is Herbie Higgins."

"Howdy," the fat man said.

Higgins was a big man in all dimensions. He was tall and rounded out like a rugby player or wrestler, albeit one that had neglected their gym sessions for a while. He was munching on a sandwich. Every so often he'd break a chunk off and feed it to the daemon sitting on his left shoulder. The daemon was a squat cone of pink flesh, featureless apart from a mouth filled with square white teeth.

"The sharply dressed man here is Gary Dever."

Dever looked like a cheaper knock-off of Darvill. He also had spectacles, short black hair and a suit, but he fell some way short of being Darvill's twin. His frame was skinny rather than athletic; his face pinched rather than handsome; his posture stooped and angular rather than confident; his suit obviously cheaper and not as well-tailored as Darvill's.

His daemon stood next to him. It was about as tall as a child and wore a patchwork suit of what Phil hoped wasn't tanned human skin. Its mask also looked suspiciously like a flayed human face stretched over an ornate gold frame. Bright green eyes glowed through the eyeholes.

"How did you end up with two?" Dever asked, looking at Nÿte.

"It's unusual for students of our level to have more than one daemon," Darvill elaborated.

"I don't know," Phil said. "They sort of came as a pair."

Or rather a set. He wondered how they'd react if they realised Nÿte wasn't Rosa, or found out about Cέrμləa and Nurse Honey back at the castle.

"Succubi are supposedly one of the most dangerous daemons men of our age can summon. We're too easily distracted," Brennan said.

Nÿte's lips turned up in a smile.

"I never saw the attraction," Darvill said. "If you have power, money and women will follow. Each to their own." He shrugged.

"Succubi are crap daemons," a short man with spiky hair and a fierce face covered in piercings said. His daemon stood next to him—a squat, even fiercer-looking goblin thing with tusks and more teeth than the Osmond family. "They can't fight. Their magic isn't very powerful. I can't see why anyone would bother summoning them."

Nÿte raised an eyebrow.

Phil shut his eyes, waited for bad things to happen. He was surprised when they didn't.

Brennan shared a glance with Higgins. "I can," he said. Both looked at the short man and resisted the urge to break out in laughter.

"You'll have to forgive our exuberant friend," Darvill said. "Joey Chalk here is a Natural Attuned. He also has anger management issues."

Chalk glanced from face to face as if paranoid they were taking the piss. Phil thought he looked younger than the others, but he couldn't really place his age. Natural Attuned?

"Lastly we have Jack Stone..."

The last member was also short. He was dressed in urban streetwear—baggy hooded top and low-riding jeans with ripped knees. He slouched with his hands hidden in his pockets and his eyes hidden behind a long fringe of brown hair. His daemon was an indistinct squat thing with long hair. It looked like an ambulatory hairball, or maybe a squashed wookie in need of a haircut.

"...but I wouldn't count on getting much out of him until he's had his second coffee."

Stone grunted something unintelligible that might have been a greeting.

"I'd introduce you to Jake, but I gather you already know him, or rather, knew him."

That caught Phil off guard.

"You knew Jake?"

Jake Pulman had been Phil's roommate, but he'd never talked about Darvill and the others.

"He was going to complete our circle. If you look around our group you'll see our daemons each represent a different Circle of Sin. All warlock groups, right up to the Shadow Congress, follow this pattern."

They did?

"How do you know all this?" he asked.

"It helps to know John," Darvill said. "The Brennan's are a Favoured Family. They've been working in the Underlabs of Wargsnouts for generations. Hey, how many relatives do you have working down there?" he asked Brennan.

"Father, mother, sister, grandfather..." Brennan counted them off on his fingers. "...uncle, aunt, other uncle, three cousins... I have a large family," he said with an impish smile. "Most warlock families are. They have to be to counteract the high rate of attrition from working with daemons. Both of my twin brothers were eaten by a mnemmorracx a couple of years back."

"Sorry to hear that," Phil said.

Brennan shrugged. "They were stupid and didn't know what they were doing."

Just like me and Jake, Phil thought.

"Jake was going to be our representative from the Circle of Lust, but that didn't go so well. Eric was killed by his succubus in the first lecture. You're the only one here with a lust daemon."

Sounds of activity came from the other side of the hall. The doors to the lecture theatre swung open.

"What's the lecture today?" Stone asked sleepily.

"Obedience training," Brennan said. "I have a little surprise for everyone." His smile was cryptic as he walked away to the lecture hall.

Darvill put a hand on Phil's shoulder. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "Think about it," he said and then turned to follow the others.

Phil was left with Nÿte.

"Mmm, obedience training. I like the sound of that," she whispered in his ear.

She took his hand and they entered the lecture theatre. As with the first lecture, Phil took an anonymous seat up on the back row. Darvill and the others took seats right down at the front. Brennan made sure he was right near the end of the row. Phil wondered what his 'surprise' was.

The Scrote walked in from a side entrance. He was followed by a short man with a head covered in uneven clumps of wispy white hair. The man had spectacles, no neck and a face that reminded Phil of a mole.

"Welcome, students," The Scrote said. "All of you have successfully summoned and bound your first daemon. This accelerated course will teach you how to forge that binding into an unbreakable chain of control. You wouldn't be taught this in the main college for another two years, but as you've already progressed to completing your first summoning there's no sense in wasting your time with trivialities. This is the fast track. You are the elite students and here we will prepare you for a life of power."

The Scrote motioned to the wispy-haired man behind him.

"Now Mr Lutwidge, if you'd please."

The Scrote stepped away from the lectern and stood with his succubi on the side of the stage.

"Now, as we know, daemons are wilful, capricious creatures," the short man, Mr Lutwidge, started. He spoke in a haltering manner and had a phlegmy voice. "One of the hardest tasks facing a beginning warlock is keeping control over his daemon. If left to their own devices, daemons have an unfortunate tendency to main or kill members of the general public. This can lead to the trainee warlock having to face some very awkward questions from the regular authorities.

"Of course, later on it might be in your interests to allow or even encourage your daemon to feed on or kill certain civilians. What is the point of power if not wielded. Harrumpth."

Phil suspected that was a joke. He hoped it was a joke.

"We will, of course, teach you how to cover your tracks, hide the bodies and obfuscate the investigations of the regular authorities. For now, however, the key aim is discipline. It is important to know how to curb your daemon's appetites and discourage them from carrying out uncontrolled killing sprees. This lecture we will begin the long and fraught process of—"

"No," Brennan interrupted.

Lutwidge paused and stared over the top of his spectacles.

"We don't need to. Not anymore. Technology marches on, old man."

Brennan stood up and left his row to walk up to the lectern.

"If you'll allow me," he said.

Lutwidge looked over to The Scrote for guidance. Amused, the Head of Daemonological Studies nodded. Grumbling, Lutwidge stepped aside and let Brennan take his place.

"In the past the process of strengthening the bond between warlock and daemon was long and difficult," Brennan told the audience. "Not anymore. Now we have this."

He held up what looked like a simple black leather collar.

"This is a Collar of Daemonic Compliance. It's a new device I've been working on in the Underlabs. It detects when a daemon is about to disobey an order or endanger the life of a human, and administers a strong shock to dissuade the daemon from pursuing that course of action. In my research I've found it effective on all daemons from feculoid imps to taurenoxes."

Phil had never seen one, but he remembered Jake telling him taurenoxes were badass.

"Rather than take me at my word," Brennan continued, "how about I give you a demonstration. Any objections, Mr Lutwidge?"

"This is all very irregular," Lutwidge grumbled. "What kind of demonstration did you have in mind?"

Brennan looked up at the audience. His gaze alighted on Nÿte. He smiled.

"Mr Rowling, could I borrow your succubus for a moment?"

* * * *

Brennan was a little disappointed Rowling hadn't come with the succubus with the long green hair. Given the choice, he'd have rather carried out this little stunt with her. The other succubus was perfectly adequate, though.

How Rowling had ended up with the both of them was a complete mystery. He clearly didn't know what he was doing.

Look at him now. Did he really just ask his succubus if she was okay with this?

Clueless. Totally clueless.

The succubus stood up and walked down the steps to the front. Her costume was an intimidating mix of black leather, metal studs and skull motifs that left very little to the imagination. There was a strange air to her—she looked like a trashy biker chick, yet walked with the confidence and elegance of a queen. Male students slid to the ends of their rows to get a closer look as she walked down the steps. She was hot hot hot.

But not as hot as the one with green hair.

That didn't stop his heartbeat quickening as she approached him with a sultry smile on her bee-stung lips.

"You don't object to playing with me for a little while?" Brennan gave her his most charming smile.

"I would love to play with you," the succubus purred.

A throb of pleasurable anticipation pulsed through Brennan's genitals.

Lutwidge cleared his throat. "You wouldn't be thinking of..."

"Of course," Brennan said. "It will make a perfect demonstration."

Lutwidge harrumphed. He glanced over to The Scrote, seeking and getting a nod from the other man. He turned and addressed the audience.

"As you all know, succubi are daemons from the Circle of Lust. They specialise in certain...harrumph...adult activities."

Some of the students giggled.

"I'd like anyone under the age of eighteen to please leave the auditorium."

No one moved.

"You're all eighteen or older?"

No one admitted to being younger.

"Very well, you may proceed, Mr Brennan," he said.

"This is most unorthodox," he whispered to Brennan. "Most unorthodox indeed." He walked away shaking his head and muttering into his whiskers.

Unorthodox, but most enjoyable, Brennan thought. Succubi as daemons didn't interest him that much, but he was curious to find out if sex with one was as good as the lore reputed it to be.

"What kind of fun did you have in mind?" the succubus asked. Her voice was molten seduction.

"I thought we'd go straight to the fucky fucky," Brennan said. "I assume you don't mind an audience."

The succubus looked up at the students, most of whom were perched on the edge of their seats.

"Not at all," she said. "I like putting on a show."

"Put this on first," Brennan said. He passed her the black collar.

Mustn't forget that, he thought. For all her seductive appeal she was still a literal man-eater.

"Kinky," the succubus said.

She took off her spiked collar and replaced it with the one Brennan had handed her.

"Ooh! It tingles every time I think about doing something naughty," she said.

Brennan smiled. It was going to do more than tingle in a moment.

"As you all know," he said to the audience. "A succubus is a daemon of Lust. She feeds off sexual intercourse and can use it to drain life, will and eventually the soul of her victim. Under normal circumstances it would be extremely hazardous, probably fatal, for someone like me, who isn't her master, to have sex with her. But while wearing the Collar of Daemonic Compliance it's impossible for her to do anything to hurt me. I'll prove this by having sexual intercourse with her right here and now."