Oz lived in an apartment block in Balham. Scarth was still reluctant to take the tube, but didn't have the terror of before. Paul wondered whether this was because of experience, or the novelty of being treated like a wounded puppy by Ess.

The door looked no different from any of the others on the elevated walkway that ran the length of the block. Ess produced a key.

"Oz grumbles about having to get up to let me in, but really he gave me the key so he can boast he shares a flat with a fit young bird," she explained.

"You live here?" asked Paul, strangely disappointed.

"Lord, no," laughed Ess. "Live in the same flat with such an old lech? You have got to be kidding! But that doesn't stop Oz boasting about it. Come on in and meet him." She pushed open the door and stepped in. Paul followed, feeling awkward at entering a home without the express permission of the owner.

"Oz!" called Ess. "Where are you, you old goat?"

"Come into my parlour, my little fly," answered a bass voice.

"Are you dressed?"

"Yes, sorry. Wait one minute and I'll strip off for you."

Ess shook her head in exasperation and pushed open a door off of the narrow passageway.

"Behave, you old pervert. I've brought a guest."

"The more, the merrier, my Aphrodite."

Paul followed Ess into the living room. Two walls were completely occupied by cramped bookshelves. Books covered every flat surface, stacked untidily in corners, leaning drunkenly on the windowsill, tumbling over the coffee table and sprawling over the furniture. In one corner stood a television, running an old episode of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'.

On a settee sat a large man with a bushy beard and wild hair. He dwarfed everything else in the room, partially with his size, but mainly by his expansive gestures. He wore a T-shirt that bore a crest with the legend 'Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus', and large baggy shorts.

At the opposite end of the couch sat a young man, hardly out of school by the look of him. He clutched a notebook and pen. There didn't seem to be any room for an average-sized person to fit between them on the three-seater settee.

"Vanessa, light of my life," bellowed Oz. "I've missed you. I dream of you every night. Do you want to know the details?"

"Do you want an eye removed?" answered Ess.

"I would sacrifice an eye for a night of passion with you, my succubus, and consider it a bargain."

"I would sacrifice my life rather than let you touch me, you disgusting old perv," countered Ess.

Oz roared with laughter and clapped his hands. He winked at Paul. "She plays hard to get, but she lusts for me really. Do you have my ointment, my angel of mercy?"

"Of course. Do you think I'd come here if I didn't need to?"

Ess reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a jam jar filled with a faintly green ointment. She tossed it to Oz.

"The money is in my wallet on the mantelpiece, my Venus," he said, catching it. "Now, if you were committed to customer service, you'd rub it on for me."

"The day I agree to that, I'll need to be committed," said Ess, pulling a couple of notes from the wallet.

"The money you demand from me, it's the least you could do."

"Well, if you're not happy, go get a prescription from your doctor."

"Oh, she's a hard woman," Oz confided in Paul. "She knows her witch's brew is the only thing that actually works for this poor old, sick man."

"And you are sick in so many ways, Oz. Now behave. I've brought a guest that needs your help."

"Really?" Oz silenced the TV with a remote and leant back, inspecting Paul as though he were some dubious merchandise he had been asked to purchase. "I just assumed he was some young stud that you had lured into your bed with your heathen wiles." He laughed. "Oh, bless him, he's blushing. Well, that proves he's not. No man that had been with you could ever blush again. Who are you, my blushing young innocent?"

"Paul," said Paul, embarrassed by the casual familiarity Ess and Oz obviously enjoyed. He felt like a voyeur on some private relationship.

"Greetings, Paul, and welcome to my humble home. I am Professor Dawkins, doctor of divinity, professor of applied psychiatry, lecturer on comparative religions, despoiler of a hundred virgins, lapsed Druid, and grand wizard of the order of Roke. My friends call me Oz. In which capacity can I be of service?"

"All of them, I guess. Um ... except the bit about, you know, um ... the virgins." Paul stuttered into silence, aware he was blushing again.

Oz raised his eyebrows. "Really? I would have thought ... never mind. What do you want of me, then, young man who has no need of despoiled virgins?"

"Well, it's sort of personal," said Paul, glancing at the young lad on the sofa.

"Oh, never mind young Michael here. I am helping him with his paper on popular modern paganism. Have you any idea the influence Buffy has over the religious beliefs of pubescent boys in the West?"

"Run out of na?ve young girls on your course, Oz?" asked Ess.

Oz drew himself up in indignation. "How dare you! I am well known for helping all my students in their studies, regardless of gender. Besides, this year's crop are all dried-up lesbians."

"A lesbian, you understand," explained Ess, "being any woman who turns Oz down. Which, considering the number who do, makes you wonder how the human race survives."

"I do my bit to ensure the survival of the species," said Oz. "Now, young man, piss or get off the pot, as the good book says."

Paul looked uncertainly at Ess. She nodded encouragingly. "Well, I need to get rid of a demon," he said.

"A demon, eh? Recite the Lord's Prayer."

"What?"

"The Lord's Prayer. Don't you know it? Our Father, and all that?"

Feeling foolish, Paul started in a quiet voice, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed ...."

"Nope, you're not possessed. Wouldn't be able to say it otherwise. Job done. That'll be ten guineas, three Hail Mary's and a pint of decent beer. Next."

"Oz, behave!" commanded Ess. Her tone had an edge that had not been there in the banter she and Oz had exchanged moments before. "This is serious."

"I didn't say I was possessed," said Paul. "More the other way round. I possess a demon, I guess. I summoned one, and now I can't get rid of it."

Oz clasped his hands over his belly, pursed his lips and studied Paul carefully. "You had better sit down, then. Make space where you can."
Paul lifted a pile of books from a chair, then looked around for a place to put them. Finally he gave up and placed them in the small patch of carpet at his feet. Ess walked in front of the dormant television and performed her graceful descent into the lotus position on the floor.

"What makes you think you summoned a demon?" Oz asked.

"I can see it."

"And can you see it now?"

Paul glanced at Ess. Scarth squatted by her side. Paul suspected it was more in hope of ice-cream than anything else. "Yes, unfortunately."

"Do you currently take, or have you ever taken, mind-altering drugs?"

Paul sighed. "No. I'm not a nutter, and I'm not a druggy. I wish it were that simple. I own an honest-to-goodness demon from the pit of pain, and I can't get rid of the bugger."

"Show him, Paul," said Ess, gently.

Paul shook his head. "Look, he's useless, but he's not harmless. He kills people, okay? The people who he killed, well, those I saw him kill, anyway, could see him. I can tell him not to kill people, but I don't think he really understands. Telling him not to kill anyone at all just doesn't work. He still does it. I don't want it happening again. I know how crazy this sounds, okay? I don't blame you. I would think the same in your position. But I don't need a psychiatrist, I need someone to tell me how to send him back to hell."

"It's true, Oz," said Ess. "I can see him too. He's sitting right here, with me. He's summoned a supernatural entity."

Oz raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Well, Paul, I have to admit, normally my professional opinion would be that you're as crazy as a loon, to coin the technical term. But if Ess says so, well, that's different. She has the world's worst taste in men, but she's so level-headed you could put up shelves with her. So, you've summoned a demon, eh? That's ... unusual. How did you do that, when so many have failed?"

"I found this book," said Paul, lifting up the carrier bag. "It had the spell in it."

"May I see?" asked Oz. Paul leant over and passed the bag over. Oz pulled the book out and slowly leafed through the pages.

"This the invocation?" he asked at last, holding the page for Paul to see. Paul nodded. "Interesting. A lot of these books from that time were fakes, or made ludicrous claims. These symbols, though, date back to ancient times. Early Semitic, if I'm not mistaken. And the invocations, though in English, are a fairly accurate translation of much earlier examples. What you have here, at first glance, appears to be the genuine article. And you carry it around in a plastic bag? Do you realise how valuable this is?"

Paul shrugged. "I don't care," he said. "All I want from it is a way to get rid of Scarth."

"Scarth being your demon?"

Paul nodded. "I've tried the banishment spell, but they won't take him back, and I've tried an exorcism, but Scarth ... um ... well, it didn't work." Paul didn't feel he knew the people in the room well enough to recount the demise of the late Father Michael.

"Technically speaking, it's not a spell," muttered Oz, engrossed in the pages. "What's a spell, Michael?"

The student looked panic-stricken. "A magical formula that influences people?" he asked.

"People or the corporeal world in which they live," said Oz. "Close enough. This is an invocation, binding a supernatural spirit to your will. Which should mean, young man, that this Scarth should not be able to do anything unless you consent to it."

"Yeah, well, Scarth is a law unto himself. He either doesn't understand, or he forgets, or something. Either way, he does stuff I don't tell him to, and stuff I tell him not to as well. I spoke to some book guy back home, an expert on occult books. He said Scarth wasn't even a proper demon, but some sort of hybrid."

"A chimera? Yes, yes, that could explain it. The invocation would only be partially effective if he wasn't all demon. And what happened then?"

So Paul recounted his story for a second time that day.