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The room was dark, filled with strange incense and glowing embers from the fat, stubby black candles that were dribbling all over the cupboards and storage units around the classroom.

On every student’s table a small collection of items needed for the task ahead were displayed.

This was the sort of thing Crowley had been spouting off about earlier, the blood sacrifices that were performed under sinister gazes, during gibbous moons, in secret underground collectives, and on Hallowe’en.

Meredith did not need to be involved in such things, she had sauntered off to find the punch bowl with her giggly pals and was having a splendid time.

Anar was not going to take part. He’d made up his mind. He would flat out refuse. No chickens would be harmed during the making of this afternoon.

Everyone present had their hood up, and they could only be singled out by their familiars. The little winged, tinkly pixies and faeries flitted around, dutifully placing and sorting the equipment needed for this very special lesson.

Rap poured the black soot out onto the silver silk cloth into a smiley face. The candles were arranged in a very specific way, two below and three above, that would make any teenage boy snort. Runes were set up like a spiralling domino track and pushed down, making a sharp clackclackclack noise as they tumbled, knocking against each other.

With a squeak, the door opened and a cage on wheels was rolled inside by one of the animal keepers. You always knew those who had made it a career looking after occult creatures; they had bits of them missing, along with deep, wicked scars. This particular golden, winged fox was no exception; he had an ear tip gone, a crooked lower lip where a claw or mouth had taken off a piece of his face, and missing patches of fur from burns.

To everybody’s great relief, the numerous occupants of the mobile pen were small, feathered, clucking chickens.

The hatch was opened, and the handler passed one each to the student demons who then clutched them, awkwardly. They flapped and squawked, pecking and scratching as only poultry can. The room was full of noise and bursts of feathers. Cries of ‘ow!’ could be heard as sharp beaks stabbed their captors.

Anar looked his animal in the beady eye. It didn’t seem fair, stabbing such an innocent thing such as this. It could hardly put up a fair fight, could it? Why did Satan want chicken blood, anyway? Chicken McNuggets, now those he could understand, they were proper cordon blur, food of the Gods. Bet Lucifer would be made up to get a few of those with Heinz ketchup!

“Braaaaaawwwk.”

“Tell me about it, mate.”

The lecturer held up his madly flapping bird, chanting mystical words loudly, for the students to duly repeat. Those same words were also up on the blackboard behind them, for the hard of hearing, or ‘selective deaf’ as anyone with teaching experience knew them as.

Anar looked at the complete mess they’d made of their group’s sacrificial altar. Nobody had paid a blind bit of notice to their mucking about. Unfortunately, having a still squawking chicken at the end of this would give away his refusal to comply with his instructions, not only to the teacher but to the whole class. After all, there was only one student here with two big lizards at their side.

Rap looked at him, his friendly face smiling as always.

Rave huffed, “it’s only a flipping chicken. You want me to bit its head off for ya?”

Anar whined, “I could understand if we were putting it in a pie. It just seems a bit mean to cut its head off for the fun of it.”

“Everyone else is doing it,” Rave reasoned.

“What are you actually killing it for?’ Rap asked, watching it peck at Anar’s snout, angrily.

“Satan likes things dying. He likes blood. You say the right words and the chicken’s lifeforce gets transferred to the Dark Lord, makes him stronger. Beats going to the gym, I guess.”

“Give it to me!” Rap hissed.

Anar hesitated, “you serious?”

“You do the Latin, I’ll deal with the chicken,” he gently grasped the light, feathery animal, cooing at it soothingly. With nimble, scaly hands he bound its beak with a rubber band from within one of his many pockets, and carefully tucked it inside his patchwork cloak.

“That’s not gonna work,” Anar sighed, picking up the sacrificial knife and waving it around, mumbling to mimic the rest of the class.

But Rap wasn’t finished. He prodded Rave to collect up one of the stuffed animals from a distant shelf, and the big raptor lumbered off to fetch it, complaining at having to do something that wasn’t standing around looking dangerous. The dusty old dead thing Rave plonked down wasn’t a chicken; however, Rap had also spied a stick of red wax used for sealing official college letters and it was perfect for dripping copiously over the taxidermy remains of whatever they’d grabbed.

Anar’s Zippo lighter was put to good use as the aardvark brought his dagger down with a thud! upon the altar.

The students all stepped back from the splattery, gory mess they’d made as the teacher lowered his arms.

Their cloth was covered in a pool of gloopy red wax, the dead mound of creature unidentifiable sat, stiffly, upon it, thoroughly coated. The soot was still in the shape of a smiley face, with rune stones scattered about, the flickering candles remained phallicly positioned.

Rap’s robe moved a bit by itself.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Anar, saving a bloody chicken,” Rave sniffed, disapprovingly. “If you let it loose, you know one of the werewolves will only go and have it for dinner.”

“Rap smuggled it under his robe, not me!” he objected.

Rap simply beamed. “I know just what to do with it,” he said, brightly. “I’ll be right back.”

The punch was bubbling in a massive, ancient cauldron, sat atop an eerie green fire, small bubbles floating out from it and popping in a noxious gaseous mist.

A throng of college students gathered around it, sipping from orange paper cups that had bats printed on them. A member of staff was stirring the mixture, their witch outfit making Rap get very excited as he complimented the fabric and colours, blushing as he was told what a good job he had done of sewing his cultist’s robe.

While the teacher was distracted, Anar and Rave dipped their cups in for extra helpings of the alcoholic brew, guzzling thirstily. It tasted like sangria; the Spanish, fruity, wine-based drink that was deceptively potent. A few jugs of the crimson liquid, adorned with orange slices and filled with ice cubes, could knock out a fully grown adult demon, as he could attest from his many family holidays there, watching his parents get trashed by the poolside.

Destroyer had stood by, disinterested, until now. The punch’s delicious aroma filled his big hairy nostrils, and he sniffed, trotting closer. His neck dipped down and he slurped noisily, the muscles in his thick neck rippling.

“Des! Leave some for the rest of us, you big goof!” Anar ordered.

The cauldron refilled itself with a gurgle. The witch stirred, shooing away the nightmare. “Whose horse is this?”

“He’s alright! He’s with me,” Anar smiled.

The witch glared. “A Warlock, huh. Should have known. Trouble always follows. You’ll need a mop if it craps on the floor.”

Destroyer’s ears flickered back and forth; he’d never been so insulted! He snorted, crossly, then hiccupped with an equine whinny.

“How much did you drink?”

“Not enough,” a soft voice spoke by his shoulder.

Anar turned to Meredith, who was looking more flushed than usual. She flashed him a pretty smile.

“How did the dreaded stabbing go?” she asked, refilling her paper cup.

Anar shrugged, “we botched it. Nobody noticed. Rap smuggled the chicken off somewhere.”

She laughed, “only you could get away with that! What are you going to do about the pledge, though? You don’t want to do that, neither. Can’t go hide in the toilets, all hands on deck for that one.”

“Eh, that’s easy enough, I’ll just mumble any old rubbish. You wanna come with me?”

Rap turned sharply, his green eyes blazing.

“Us! I mean us, wanna come with us?”

She laughed again, “you’re such a pushover, Anar. Fancy being bossed about by your own familiars?”

“I mean, they are bigger’n me.”

“Nearly everyone here is bigger than you, sweetie.” She kissed his blushing cheek.

“I’m still growing…”

“Are you now?” she asked with a smirk.

He spluttered into his drink.

“Any sign of the royal Arsewipe?”

“Not yet. He’s gonna be on my case something fierce when ole Leviathan’s done with him.”

“Hmmm. Leviathan likes you, from the gossip I’ve heard. I bet he’s really giving Lex a chewing out.”

“Leviathan… likes me? I don’t… remember much of him. He’s big. That’s about it,” Anar confessed, furrowing his brow.

“You made him laugh, by all accounts. First time in an age. Word is, between that and your Director father, you’re untouchable.” Her gaze was piercing as her cup reached her lips.

Anar snorted, “well, I’m not playing their silly game anymore; no killing chickens, no mumbo jumbo, I don’t even care if my Ellesse jumper isn’t allowed! I’ll wear my white trainers and they can like it. Bet I’ll be kicked out soon enough. I’ve even got Destroyer running around indoors, they’re not going to put up with that for long.”

She shrugged her glittery shoulders, “Hallowe’en antics. You haven’t harmed anyone, and everyone knows rules are made to be broken. Lex on the other hand, he got caught with all sorts of crystals and charms in front of the senior priest, with a bright aura no less, and that was after he'd pulled a Horseman of the Apocalypse off his horse. Thought Death was you in your fancy dress get-up, and tried to pick a fight! If anyone’s out on their ugly backside, it's going to be him.”

Anar’s mouth was agape; “he did what, now?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? His days here are numbered unless his ancestor gets involved, I reckon. He’s not been too highly favoured, despite all his boasting. Don’t forget, he got interrupted making his offering, so that’s a mark against his name for a start, and with no blood sacrifice, neither.”

“I didn’t do one of those,” Anar reasoned.

Meredith shook her head, “one isn’t so bad to miss out. But two? From a Prince of Hell?! Hoo boy. That’s letting the side down.”

Anar fidgeted.

“Ohhhh, don’t you dare go feeling bad for him! I can read you like a book. I can see the guilt. He’s a git! He sent us into Hell with no remorse. Called up those shadow wights and down we went. He mocks you, bullies you…”

“He acts like he should. That’s what he’s been trained for. Lex is a pedigree arsewipe.”

Her gaze softened; “and what about you? Wasn’t your upbringing the same, Anar?”

“No,” he mumbled, “it wasn’t. Everything was pretty normal, until… things happened. Then all of a sudden, I’m signed up for this place, and my father turns into an evil bastard. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to think about… him. I’m going to see my uncle for the holidays, if not sooner. There’s a phonebox on the corner, I’ll give him a call and tell him that I’m getting out, that I’ll stay with him; Monty’s nice, see, he understands… stuff.”

Meredith looked sad, “there’s no getting out, Anar. You can stay in your room all day and miss all your classes, but you’ll still be here. You could just straight up and leave, walk out of the building, security will only bring you back again. They wrangle spirits and minions. A grumpy student won’t be any trouble.”

He drained his punch, feeling a little fuzzy, “whatever, I’m not going to make it easy for them, at any rate. Being a rebel is fun.” He rubbed Destroyer’s black, glossy shoulder affectionately before leaping up, settling on his broad back with a tipsy wobble, grasping his scythe prop and tugging up his hood. “Crowley really tried picking a fight with Death? He calls me a dumb donkey!”

“Right?” Meredith held out her pale arms for her aardvark to lift her up behind him.

“We goin’?” the raptors asked, sneaking in an extra dip of punch quickly as they watched the nightmare break through the gathering of students who eyed them all suspiciously. They’d been aware of bizarre goings on in a place such as this, but never quite expected to see lizards who could well be dinosaurs, and actual horses trotting around.

They cantered along the corridor, making their way to the theatre which was holding the Dark Pledge ceremony, Rap ticking off some of the last hidden artefacts for the treasure hunt along the way, his hat flopping about as he and Rave kept up with the strong nightmare. Spectral ghostly spirits flitted and wailed, sorrowfully, lit iron lamps flickered, the floorboards creaked and thick cobwebs were torn as the thunder of hooves clattered loudly. Destroyer tossed his noble head and roared happily, enjoying this break from his daily routine of snoozing in a field.

A wall of fire whipped up before them, and he reared with a snort as the flames reached high to the ceiling, spreading around them, trapping them within. It had come from nowhere, with no warning.

“Easy Des, it’s just one of the Hallowe’en decorations, it’ll be gone in a minute.”

He stamped a hoof, unimpressed.

“I don’t think this is supposed to be here, Anar.”

He turned his head to look at Meredith, “what makes you think that?”

“There’s someone on the other side.”

Rave tested the fire to see if it was real and blew on his hot fingers, “yup, it’s fire, alright.”

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Anar rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Lex, you tosser. You’ll use up all your magic in your amulet you know.”

“I don’t think that you understand what you’re dealing with here,” a soft voice came from across the flickering fire.

A man stepped forwards through the burning flames, his skin pale, his eyes pure white, his smart designer suit smouldering as he walked, leaving a charred path. There was an overwhelming stink of sulphur, an odour that was unpleasant at the best of times. Thin lips broke into a sneer – it was a very Crowley look, but this was not Alexis who had ensnared them in Hellfire.

“Aleister?” Anar hazarded a guess.

“I’ve come to see who has been foolish enough to take on my great grandson. I’m not much impressed, I have to say.”

“Everyone says that,” Anar shrugged. “But I’m not trying to impress you, so I don’t care.” His hand flexed and twitched, his blood bubbling.

The smallest movement of the human’s hand sent them skidding across the flooring towards the heat, pulling them into the fire.

Destroyer struggled to keep his legs out of the flames.

Meredith held tight onto Anar, gasping as she felt her skin burn. She clutched her amulet and tried desperately to push the demon back.

“Your weak magic cannot compete with the power of Hell, silly girl!”

Anar raised his hand, an orb of blue swirling within his open palm turning the fire around them a lovely azure shade. His eyes glowed, intensely. “Try me!”

“Now you’ve upset him,” Rap tutted.

Rave swung his tail and snapped his jaws, the human’s waves of magic keeping him infuriatingly out of the dinosaur’s reach.

Aleister was mesmerised by the strange light, his own dark energy pouring forth only to rebound against it.

“What is this?”

“This is an ass-whupping, that’s what this is!” Anar remembered how he broke the teacher’s desk and he let his power flow out. The bubbling and fizzing in his blood now running free, sending a bolt of pure magical energy towards the meddlesome minion, knocking the wind right out of him.

Crowley wheezed, his knees buckling, black sparks spitting as they met Anar’s spellcasting.

He unleashed another of his strong dark waves, but Anar had control now, spurring Destroyer on towards the shocked figure of Aleister Crowley who could only weave his hands and mutter angrily at his failings. He’d come here to teach this cheeky upstart a lesson, and he’d encountered something far more powerful than he could have realised.

The floor dropped away, but Anar held them all fast in his mind, trickery and illusions were the bread and butter of demons, weren’t they? Don’t believe what you see or hear.

Crowley whipped the flames up, increasing the heat, bringing it closer. Hellfire wouldn’t hurt him, but it would hurt the mortals he had come to punish.

Anar could hear Meredith panicking, draining her amulet shot by shot, could feel Destroyer turning this way and that under him, his deep rumbling showing his distress. Rap and Rave were hiding under the nightmare’s belly, claws reaching out to stab and sweep and do their bit to get the evil fiend to go away.

A sharp blue crack! and another blast made Crowley look away, to shield his face from the assault.

Anar swung down his rusty prop scythe, an electrical crackle running along its edge as he poured all his concentration into it.

Think clearly where you wanted to go. Picture it in your mind’s eye.

Only it was not him doing the travelling this time.

The blade connected to the demon’s form and cut through the smart linen suit to the pale, flabby flesh beyond, smoke and sparks erupting in a shower of embers that scattered through the air as Crowley was sent hurtling back to the Outer Circle of Hell, where he belonged, with the other foul creatures and lost spirits.