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"Hello, sir..."

"IS THAT AARDVARK WITH YOU?!"

Ember recoiled, holding her handset away from her ear, stuttering a response, "n-no, sir. No aardvarks here."

Crispin pulled onto the road, scanning the mirrors for any blacked-out luxury saloons containing sneaky assassins. They'd almost been blown up once. It could happen again.

"But you saw him! During that kraken business! What did he want? What did he say?" Rowan's breathing was heavy. His words fast, almost garbled.

Ember blinked, "he made the kraken vanish, sir. He wanted to help. Until he turned on us. Listen, I wanted to call you about..."

"WITH MAGIC?!"

Ember held the mobile away from her ear again. Rowan never sounded like this. This was manic. "Well, yes. Sir, he was a..."

Crackles and crashing noises came from the Senior Mage's end. It sounded like he was knocking things over. "Five hundred years!"

"Sir, are you ok? I wanted to talk to you about demons."

The rapid breathing slowed a little. "Demons? Yes. Demons. They've come up causing trouble. But the aardvark, he - he wasn't a demon. He was a warlock. How... how is he a demon now? I took... I took his magic. All of it."

"That's not right," Crispin butted in, "Anar said the council took their magic hundreds of years ago."

"What's that?! Who's that?! IS THAT HIM??"

"No, no no no," Ember soothed, "it's not him, that's my cousin, we're going to Sainsbury's," she shot Crispin a hard glance.

He fixed his eyes back on the road. A movement in the rearview caught his attention. He frowned.

"What the Hell is going on, Ember?! You're my demonologist, we've got demons on the loose and you're going to Sainsbury's??"

"Err I'm... out of milk, sir. Got to have a cup of tea."

"Philip has got the bloody plague!" Rowan screeched. "Shall I tell him about your beverage requirements? We're about to go to war with the Underworld here if you don't banish them all in a hurry!"

"I know why they're here," she said, calmly, "they have no interest in us. The Council, I mean."

"He DID speak to you!" he roared.

"The demon - the aardvark - he's looking for someone."

There was a hush. The other end crackled again and Rowan's voice came back with a wobble, "it's not... me... is it?"

Ember had never heard fear before from the great Rowan Aldbury. He was a legend of magic. Nothing ruffled his feathers.

The Corsa drifted lanes suddenly and she was brought back to the present and Crispin's driving. "Watch it!" she scowled. "You're not Nigel Mansell!"

"We're being followed," he said lowly, his demonic eyes flitting from road to mirrors and back again.

"Oh, no. Oh, shit. Really?"

"Ember!" Rowan barked.

"Sir, I... I banished the demon aardvark back to Hell, sir. He's not after you. He's looking for his son."

"The child? The child is dead. We killed the lizard who was protecting him, too, we took a drop of the child's blood and then we cursed them. We cursed the aardvarks for five hundred years! Stripped of every last ounce of power! It destroyed them! Gone! They vanished before our very eyes, Ember, we left Warlock Court an empty shell. No more flying ponies, no more dragon, no more aardvarks!"

Her hand trembled. None of what Rowan said was making any sense. "Maybe this is a different aardvark, then? The one I banished?" she squeaked. "You said yourself, the one _you _knew wasn't a demon. They probably all look alike. Must be a few aardvarks around, right?"

Rowan seemed to like this idea, "yes, yes. I definitely killed Anarchy Warlock. Definitely. Yes. He was - he was pure magic... and without it, dead. Makes sense."

"Anarchy's dead?!" the car swerved again under Crispin's control. "I only saw him a couple days ago!"

"I gotta go!" Ember panicked, ending the call, feeling tears welling up.

"Your boss killed Anar?? Did I hear that right?"

Rubbing her temples she shook her head, "I don't... I don't know what is going on, Crispin, I'm as lost as everybody else. He said - Anar said: the Council mustn't find him. The Council wanted him dead because of his natural magic. His ancestor hundreds of years ago did something to upset the Council and that made him a target. But Rowan said he had killed a child and a lizard."

"One of the raptors?"

She shook her glossy curls, rubbing her moist eyes, "the two dinosaurs are inseparable. He would have had to kill both to get to Anar, and he definitely didn't have any children... that I know of."

His eyes still flitting to the sinister following vehicle, he changed lanes to lose them in between large lorries and tankers making their way down south to the docks. "Could it be a case of mistaken identity? Is your head mage fella getting himself mixed up with someone else? There must be other aardvarks!"

"He named him, Crisp. Anarchy Warlock. He killed Anarchy Warlock by taking away his magic."

"Shit. So, we could be going through all this palaver for nothing? I have to say I wasn't expecting this to turn into a James Bond film," he nodded at the looming car in hot pursuit.

"Is it demons following us? "

"Has to be! They failed to blow us up remotely so they're coming to do a proper job. Junction 12! Salisbury... this is our exit. I'll try to slip in front of something big. Lucky there's always heavy traffic by Stonehenge, shame we can't stop and have a walk around."

"Oh yeah, a pity," she replied, hollowly.

"Well, I've never been," he said, sulkily.

"It's a gate now. You used to be able to go up to the stones before the Council used it for travel. Now it's a 'look but don't touch' sort of thing."

Crispin looked at her, "are you ok?"

"No. Are you?"

He frowned, "no. Not really. I can't believe... he's dead."

She folded her arms, "I won't believe it until I have proof. How many films have you seen where the bad guys just walk away, thinking the good guy is gonna die, but the good guy gets out of it and comes back and the baddies are all 'oh, you lived? I wasn't expecting that!'? too many. Rowan said they vanished. He didn't see anyone actually die. Anar always trusted his gut. Mine is saying he's still alive."

Crispin thought all this through. "You have a point. And Anar's dad wouldn't be hunting him down if he wasn't here. Would he?"

"Exactly! Let's get to Warlock Court, I'll deal with the jokers following us, there. I'll throw salt on them if I have to!"

"Does that actually work? I have salt on my McDonald's fries..."

"Oh yes, it's a quantity thing, throw enough and you're like slugs, you demons shrivel up. I always carry a bag in the boot. Everyone thinks it's for ice in the winter. Same with the bottle of antifreeze - that's actually Holy Water."

"Anything else?'

"Not that I'm going to tell you about, no," she smiled craftily.

The road stretched on in a two-way traffic lane surrounded by a low, flat plain of short grass. In the distance the standing stones of Stonehenge spread out in their familiar circular arrangement. Beyond that, the Council of Sorcerers headquarters glimmered in pale marble spires and domed glass roofs.

Somewhere, hopefully not too far from here, was an old country estate belonging to the Warlock family.

Somewhere, hopefully _very _far from here, was a blacked-out luxury saloon full of Crowley's thugs with a quota of violence to fill.

Rowan drummed his fingers on his desk. Demons! Aardvarks! Demon aardvarks! He thought he had wrapped all this up years ago. A line of worry formed on his brow.

Dragons!

They could change reality itself, couldn't they? Things you thought were true... well, they weren't. They had been. But now they weren't. And you wouldn't know. That was the frustrating part - all it took was a twitch of a single scaly finger and everything you had was gone. Replaced with a world that fitted their needs, not yours.

Sitting here was going to give him closure on nothing. He had to go back to Warlock Court. He had to see the empty estate once more. To convince himself it hadn't been an illusion - dirty dragon magic playing tricks on him.

It had been the end of the most embarrassing part of his career and he hadn't slept soundly until the aardvarks had been erased. Them and the flying ponies. And the walking lizard! Not forgetting the big, starry cat that had jumped out the bushes at them when they'd come knocking.

The blood curse had been placed. He had taken away their magic. The world had turned white with blinding light and then... there had been nothing. A garden gate had creaked. A curtain had billowed from an open window. He and his mages had been the only living things left, and so they congratulated themselves on a job well done and gone back to write up their reports.

The sceptre was no longer showing on their sensors. That had gone, too, assumed destroyed. A pity, but you couldn't have it all.

He still regarded the operation a complete success.

Rowan had taken his rightful place once again as Senior Mage and things had been, overall, peaceful.

He pulled on his heavy travelling cloak, grasped his trusty, ivory staff - looking and feeling like Gandalf - and wound his way down to the outside world.

Why hadn't he checked? He'd been such a fool! It was time to sort the Warlocks out, once and for all.

Peregrin's stare was intense; the Dragon paid no attention to it and poured amber liquid, delicately.

"You act as though you've never seen a dragon before, yet I know for sure you have. At least once." Its bright amber eyes sparkled behind the sunglasses.

It was not dressed how Peregrin had expected a timeless magical creature to dress; it had a white t-shirt, black leather jacket and blue denim jeans, finished with motorcycle boots. It looked, as far as he was concerned, like a red scaly Fonz from Happy Days. It even had the laid-back, confident, easy smile to finish the look.

"I have never seen a dragon before. Never."

The dragon seemed very amused by this, it sat back and sipped its cup. "Is that so?"

"If I had seen you before, you wouldn't have let me remember!" he stated triumphantly.

"Not me," the Dragon laughed, breezily, "I'm talking about Lucifer."

There was a pause.

"Lucifer?"

"Yes! Of course!" the Dragon set down its dainty bone china cup. "Think about it. Ageless powerful being. Collecting souls. Jealously guarding his lair... the Underworld..."

Peregrin reeled, "and what about... Him?" he jabbed a finger towards the ceiling.

The Dragon nodded. "Yes. Dragon. Lord of the Heavens. Also collecting souls, and all the precious energy contained within. We dragons, we like collecting things. And owning things. Which is why I have intervened in your return to the Underworld."

"Oh?" Peregrin regarded his cup of tea with much suspicion. Rightly so.

"You are under the impression that... your son is at your command. He is under your thumb. Anarchy, I mean, not... not the other one. You can keep him," it waved a red hand dismissively.

Peregrin sniffed the tea. There was no malodour coming forth. He sipped, letting it touch his cracked lips. It was delicious and refreshing.

"I am here to tell you that he is mine."

The demon shot the Dragon a fiery glance over the top of the teacup. "I think not."

It picked up its small silver spoon and stirred the hot liquid, calmly. "You're in quite a spot of bother, aren't you, Peregrin?"

"I'll manage," the demon Director retorted brusquely.

"Of course," it soothed, in a manner as though talking to a small child, "you've got it all under control." It lifted its head and the sunglasses slipped just a little, blazing like a million suns. "I have a proposition for you, all the same."

Peregrin averted his demonic eyes. He could feel his dead heart begin to ache.

"...I can make everything go away. All this trouble... gone. Your son? A demonic mastermind, a boy you can be proud of. The office building? Restored - fixed. Thanks to you and your smarts. Alexis Crowley? Why, he let me in the Hell Afterlife Services building once, you know. His father would be so ashamed! Can you... imagine?"

He could. Scenarios flashed in his mind. All this stupidity erased. His name glorious once more. Aleister being dragged down into the basement. How could he decline such a generous offer? "But you ask... what? In return for all this generosity?"

"That you leave Anarchy for me. He has been mine for longer than you know. Just... go. Forget him. Anarchy has been nothing but a source of stress and anxiety for you. What if... he was an evil mastermind of a demon and he is off on special, secretive missions now, for Lucifer? That is all anyone needs to know. Wouldn't that be the legacy you'd always wanted?"

He felt light as air. All the weight of the last days events gone from his shoulders. Dragons could alter reality... and it could really work out for him. He drained his cup, placing it back onto the matching saucer with a clatter. What had he got to lose? "I accept."

The Dragon smiled. "Enjoy your fall," it swept a graceful hand and the floor dropped away from beneath their feet.

The yawning cosmos reclaimed him as he fell. This time, he was returning to glory.