Paul stepped out into the warm night air. Ess slipped her arm through his and hugged it close. He thrilled to the immediacy of her presence. From the edge of the courtyard he heard a muffled giggle. As his eyes adjusted to the lamplight, he saw several couples in the shadows, in various stages of what his aunt always referred to as 'canoodling'. He looked away hastily.

"We could stay, if you want," said Ess. "Oz is in rare form, lording it over his cabal of students, and I get the impression the bar's not going to close on time."

"No, you stay if you want. I mean, don't leave because of me. It's just that I'm going to turn in."

"Are you all right?"

"Of course," he assured her. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," she said, turning him around and slipping her hands around his waist. Paul's arms automatically wrapped around her in a Pavlovian response. "Don't try and lie to me, Streak." She giggled as he winced at his nickname. "Come on, tell me."

Paul sighed.

"I don't know. I have a lot to think about, I guess. I need to work it all though in my mind."

"Want to talk about it?"

Paul shrugged. Ess gave him a playful thump to his chest.

"You don't understand women much, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when a woman says, 'do you want to talk about it?', what she means is, 'you'd better talk about it now, mister.'"

Paul smiled. "Do you always get your own way?"

"Every single time. Talk, before I use my occult powers on you."

Paul looked down at Scarth. He was listening to his radio, the earphones lost in his ears. In each hand he held a Cornetto, which he took turns biting.

Ess followed his glance.

"Are you worried about Scarth?"

"No. Well, yes, a bit, I guess, but not really. No, it's more you and Oz. And me too, if I'm going to be honest. I mean, we have to deal with Scarth. It's not fair on anyone, least of all on Scarth. Oz was right when he said he's not some sick puppy. Scarth is dangerous, Ess. He kills and has no idea why that's wrong. To him, it's just so much ice-cream. I don't think it's deliberate, it's just the way he is. We can't keep him here, but if we're going to get rid of him ..."

"What?" She looked up into Paul's face, and Paul felt his insides melting.

"Jesus, Ess. We're talking about taking on a demon lord, with just some herbal tea and a Coke bottle. This isn't some sort of parlour game. This is serious shit, and if something were to happen to you ... I mean, if you ... Oh God, Ess, I just can't ask you and Oz to risk your lives, not for this."

Ess grabbed Paul's head and pulled his face suddenly towards her. She kissed him hard on the lips. When she shoved him back, there were tears in her eyes.

"You stupid bugger," she whispered. "You don't know Oz. I've never seen him this alive. There is nothing you could do to stop him now. All his life he's taught and believed this sort of thing, and here you dump actual proof in his lap. He is loving every minute of it. Just look at the way he behaved this evening.

"And me, I want to do this too. You are in deep shit, Paul, and I will pull you out of it if it means reaching into Hell to do it. Furcas's plan is half-baked, I know that, but with what we just worked out in the bar, it's got a half-decent chance of working. Or not. It's your choice. We can ditch this plan and just look after Scarth ourselves. Look at how he's changed in the last couple of days. I bet we're the only people in all the centuries he's been alive that have ever shown him any kindness. Okay, it might be a bit expensive in ice-cream." She grinned. "Come on, that was a joke, you're meant to smile."

Paul smiled to show willing.

"I'm sorry, Ess. It's just this whole thing, it's just a tad overwhelming, you know?"

"Sure, Love. It is for all of us." She stroked his arm. "Listen, do you want to take me home? Escort me in a taxi, I mean."

Paul's breath caught in his chest. Her earnest expression, the light touch on his arm, surely she didn't just mean escort her home. And even if she did Surely she meant more than that it meant the opportunity for more kissing goodnight. Then he remembered his empty pockets. How would he get back to the Kings Arms? Besides, he couldn't think straight when Ess was merely standing next to him, let alone if she were lying next to him. Paul guiltily pushed away the image that jumped in his head.

"Ess, I ... bloody hell, girl, I've never met someone like you." She smiled and glanced down at her feet, then looked back into his blushing face. "You are fantastic, I mean in every way, and I have no idea at all why you're interested in me." He took a deep breath. He had a sudden realisation that this was one of those moments, when whatever you said next would affect the rest of your life. He had to choose the right decision, or the one he most wanted. "Look, I'm really sorry, I need to do a lot of thinking. I need to sort this all out, and frankly, you do my head in. I can't think straight with you around. I can hardly think about anything else even when you're not around, but I really, really need to think things through tonight."

He gave her a worried frown.

"Can we take a rain check on that? Just for tonight."

Oh God, if there is any kindness in the universe, don't let her be angry. Don't let her storm off and out of my life. And please, please, let her make the same offer tomorrow.

Ess took his head in her hands again, but this time it was as gentle as a spider's web. She bent his head down and kissed him on the end of his nose.

"I think that is the most beautiful rejection I've ever had," she said.

"Oh, no, it's not a ..."

She placed her finger over his lips to silence him.

"It's okay, Paul. Really it is. In fact, it's quite sweet. Some guys would take advantage. I understand. You trot off home, I'll stick around here with Oz for a little. Make sure none of those pretty female students take liberties with his body. Make sure he doesn't try to drive home. His driving when he's sober is scary enough. And whatever you decide, me and Oz are going to be there for you, okay?"

"Damn, Ess, you're great, you know that? I mean, you're really ... great," he said, wincing inside at the weakness of the compliment.

"I know," she said, laughing. "You're not too shabby yourself. Now, I'm going to mess with your head for a minute while you kiss me goodnight, then I'll leave you alone with your thoughts."

Kissing Ess was like nothing Paul had experienced before. He'd kissed plenty of girls before, of course. Well, some. Usually only once, just before they dumped him, but kissing Ess filled his senses. He could smell her, a mix of spices and musk that bypassed his nose and went straight to a primitive part of his brain. Her skin radiated a warmth he could feel on his face. His sense of touch was overloaded with her gentle breath, the tickle of her errant hair, her fingertips seeking out sensitive spots on his spine, and her lips .... Paul's heart lurched as they parted and she flicked her hot tongue speculatively over his lips. Before he could respond in kind she pulled back and laughed.

"Okay, I'm stopping there before I rip your clothes off. Goodnight, Paul. Mother Gaia watch over us. And don't worry."

"Yeah, you too. Hug a tree for me."

She laughed and gave him a playful thump on the arm. "Watch it, buster. You're not that cute. See you at the pub tomorrow."

Paul stood frozen as she backed away, turned and walked back to the entrance to the university. At the door she turned, as Paul hoped she would, smiled and gave a little wave, then she was gone.

"Come on, Scarth, we've got a long walk ahead of us."

"Ice-cream?" said Scarth. The Cornettos , along with their wrappers, had disappeared.

"No, not at this time of night. Now it's bed time."

Scarth reached up his hand and held Paul's. Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise. Scarth looked up at his master in innocent enquiry.

"Home?" he said. "Hungry."

Paul led Scarth out of the courtyard and into the quiet side street. The pub was probably an hour's walk east. Paul would find it easily enough once he hit The Strand. Scarth padded alongside him, like a child walking home from school.

Ess was right; Scarth was better behaved now. He was getting better at 'being good', for a given value of good. And she had said, 'we could look after Scarth.' 'We', as in Paul and Ess. 'We', as in a couple, with plans together. That could work, couldn't it? After all, they wouldn't be the first couple that had started life together with a third party that needed constant care and attention. And they ended happy ever after, sometimes, those sort of partnerships. Besides, Oz's plan, worked out over pints of beer in the corner of the noisy student bar, wasn't exactly foolproof. Far from it, especially when they started to involve other people too.

For the first time in forever, Paul started to feel optimistic. And Ess would prefer they solved the Scarth problem without dealing with Furcas. She had taken a maternal shine to Scarth. Was that why she liked Paul? Was he some wimp that she needed to take care of? He thought back to the thrilling tickle of her tongue tip on his lips. Hell, no. That wasn't maternal.

"'Scuse me, mate. Got any spare change?"

Paul had been vaguely aware of the thin young man hunched up by the wall, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to pay him any heed until now.

"Sorry, I'm flat broke," said Paul, genuinely sorry as he patted his pockets.

"Go on, only a couple of quid. Just so's I can have a cup of coffee or something."

"Seriously, I've got no money," said Paul, which was an issue he really would have to address tomorrow morning, somehow.

"You see, all you had to do was take your wallet out, and I'd have been off with it, no trouble," said the stranger. He took his hand out of his jacket pocket to show Paul the knife. "Now you're making it hard work. Give me your fucking wallet now, arsehole. What the fuck?"

His eyes grew wide with horror as he saw Scarth materialise and leap forward.

"Scarth, no, by the seven scrolls ..." Scarth's body cannoned into the mugger's stomach, folding him over. "... of the beast of torment ..." Scarth leapt, his right hand held high above his head, the talons glinting in the streetlight. "I adjure thee to stop." Scarth landed on his victim's chest, his claw sweeping down across the would-be robber's throat. Paul's stomach heaved as something flew across the road and landed with a wet slap in the gutter.

"I said stop," shouted Paul. Scarth continued raking at the man's head, even though Paul knew he had to be a corpse by now. "Scarth!"

Paul saw the tiny radio swinging on its strap over Scarth's shoulder. He ran forward and pulled the earphones clear.

"Stop!" he shouted.

Scarth stopped, looking up at Paul's face with a worried expression.

"Hurt master," he said. "Scarth save master. Scarth save Ess. Scarth good?" He looked up into Paul's face with a child-like eagerness to please.

"Oh, Jesus, Scarth. Bloody hell. What are you doing? What am I going to do? Jesus H Christ."

Paul staggered over to the wall and slumped onto the footpath, his knees hugged close to his chest. Scarth stared at Paul, concern and puzzlement on his face. Then a memory stirred, a previous time he had saved his master. What had happened next?

He turned back to the body and carefully went through the pockets. He took the small folds of paper back to his master, who was gently rocking to and fro on the pavement. He held them out. "Master?"

Paul looked up. Scarth was holding out a fistful of ten-pound notes. Paul swung his arm angrily, knocking the money to the ground. He looked at it, as the breeze started to tumble the notes over the ground. Mugging seemed to be a profitable occupation. Then, hating himself, hoping Ess would never see him this low, would never suspect he was capable of this, he gathered up the notes and stuffed them in his pocket. When he looked up, Scarth was standing in the gutter, a picture of innocence. The body had gone.

"Scarth good?" the demon asked.

"Come on, lets get the hell out of here. Back home, okay? And no more eating people. I mean it."

Scarth nodded and held out his hand. "Scarth good. Home, with master."

The pair started to walk down the dark street hand in hand. It was hopeless. He couldn't train Scarth, not overnight, anyway. How long would it take? Years? Centuries? How many dead bodies would he have to rub Scarth's nose in and say, 'bad boy'? It was foolishness to think that Scarth was anything more than a demonic killer. He could see that, even if Ess couldn't.

Scarth started to moan, quietly at first, but gradually growing louder.

"Be quiet, Scarth," he said.

Scarth ignored him, bouncing as he walked.

"Be quiet!"

There were suggestions of language in Scarth's voice now, shadows of words such as you hear when someone only remembers the lyrics of the song they are accompanying half a beat after it's gone.

"Scarth!"

Scarth turned at the shout, grinned and pointed to his earphones.

"Sing!" he shouted back and gave a little dance. His eyes looked wild, and there was a sheen of sweat on his leathery skin. Had that mugger been high on something? Was Scarth tripping on the drugs in his supper's bloodstream?

"Beelzebub - devil - for me! Me! Meeeeeee!"

Scarth screeched the high note, missing the pitch, and indeed the whole song, by a mile. Freddy Mercury would be turning in his grave so fast he was probably generating his own magnetic field.

Paul walked on, trying to block out the noise, Scarth and the whole world. Tomorrow couldn't come quickly enough.