"Are you sure we won't be disturbed here?" Ess nervously paced the concrete loading bay behind the warehouse.

"Nothing is sure in this world, my Juliet, nor in the next either," said Oz. "But we should be reasonable safe here. Dumpster assured us this place is deserted in the evening. Now stop tap-dancing. It is ruining my concentration. Learn your lines, or something."

Ess fished in her cotton shoulder bag and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper. "How do you expect me to learn this stuff? I can hardly pronounce it, let alone memorise it."

"So long as you pronounce it when the time comes. Relax. Your lover will be along shortly, demon in tow, and you wouldn't want him to see you in a blind funk, would you?"

"I am not in a blind funk!"

"Ah, that's the Vanessa I know and love. Get angry, get excited, get horny if you want. Chanel that nervousness into something you can use. There! All my own work, and not a day in Art College."

Oz stood back and admired his work. The chalk circle on the floor surrounded a pentagram decorated by strange symbols.

"It's a bit wonky there," said Ess, pointing.

"Oh, a critic? That's easy for you to say. Anyway, it doesn't really matter. It's not like it's actually going to have to contain a demon lord. I just hope he turns up. He might be in the bath, or something." Oz placed the black candles around the circle. "That's always the way when I get a phone call, and it's always some blasted marketing company. I've found the best way to get rid of them is to ask what they're wearing whilst I go hands-free."

"Do you have to practice being so pervy, or is it just a natural talent?"

"What, there's no law against receiving an obscene phone call, is there? Oh, blood and damnation!" Oz started to pat his pockets furiously."

"What?"

"Do you have any matches?"

"What? You forgot the matches?"

Oz grinned and produced a box of matches from his shirt pocket.

"You bloody idiot, Oz. That's not funny." Ess slapped Oz on the arm, but despite her anger she couldn't quite suppress the smile.

"Oh, yes, Mistress. My pain is your pleasure," chuckled Oz.

"Hi guys, ready?" Paul strode alongside the warehouse, looking like a nervous person trying very hard to look confident.

"Just about, my young demon master. I'll leave lighting the candles until we're good to go."

"Hi, darling," said Ess, stepping up to meet him and kiss him on the cheek. "Hello Scarth. My goodness me, have I got a treat for you, yes I have." She reached into her bag and pulled out a two-litre tub of ice-cream. "Root ginger and acacia honey; my favourite."

"Ice-cream?" said Scarth, his eyes widening.

"Ye gods, woman, is there nothing that can't be found in that bottomless bag of yours?" asked Oz.

"Ice-cream, Scarth. A little soft now, I should think, but first you have to do something for me, understand?"

"Scarth good," said Scarth, reaching out for the tub. Ess held it away from him.

"No, first you must do me a favour, understand?"

Scarth nodded, eyes fixed on the treasure.

"I want you to stand in this circle for me."

Scarth nodded and started forward. Then the tiny part of his brain that wasn't engrossed in the prospect of ice-cream registered what was on the floor.

"No!" he screamed, backing off. "Scarth good, Scarth not eat, Scarth not go back."

"No, honey, you're not going back," said Ess, carefully placing the tub in the circle and squatting down in front of Scarth. "Remember last time? You didn't go back then, did you? We just need to summon Lord Roath, and this is the only way we can think to do it."

"Lord Roath?" Scarth's voice quivered with dismay. "Scarth good. Sit on hands. Not hurt Ess. Not eat. Please? Pleeeeeeease?" Tears ran down his face.

"It's okay, Scarth. Lord Roath will be out here, and you'll be all safe and secure inside the circle, see? Lord Roath won't be able to touch you."

Scarth grabbed Paul's hand and tugged so hard Paul nearly toppled over. "Home now. Home, sleep, be good."

"Sorry, Ess, it's not going to work," said Paul, straining against the little demon. "There's only one way we're going to get him in the circle and stay there."

"But he's so frightened."

"We all are, Ess, but there's no other way. Scarth, by the seven scrolls of the beast of torment, I adjure thee to stand inside the circle."

"Good master," sobbed Scarth. "Scarth be good. Scarth be good."

"In the circle, Scarth, do it. Now!" Paul used the voice his father had when he was small, in the hope that it would lend some more authority to the invocation.

Scarth dragged himself slowly towards the circle, looking plaintively at Paul in the forlorn hope he would change his mind.

"Oh, the poor mite," said Ess. "There's got to be another way, Paul."

Paul thought of the death toll so far. "There isn't. It has to be done, before anyone else dies."

"You can still have the ice-cream, Scarth," said Ess.

Scarth glanced at the tub, then ignored it. He sat on the ground and looked inconsolable.

"Is he there?" said Oz.

"All set," said Paul.

Oz opened a large holdall and pulled out his robe. He slipped it over his head and tied the rope around his waist. He shrugged his shoulders a few times and shook out his hands.

"Lock and load," he said. "Bring it on."

Ess shook her head. "You're enjoying this, aren't you!"

"A tad, my darling. Forgive an old man a chance at excitement and adventure." He lit the candles. "In your own time, Paul."

Paul picked up the book and read the incantation. Scarth whimpered and looked wildly around him. Paul had seen him take muggers apart and swallow people whole. What sort of demon was Roath, that Scarth was so scared of him?

The wind picked up, swirling around the circle. Paul read on. The candle flames became tinged with purple, flared, then gutted. Paul screwed his eyes up against the flying dust and read on. As he read the last word, the wind suddenly dropped. The silence beat down on them.

Paul turned, scanning the small loading bay.

"What did you fail to understand?" said a voice. From the shadows cast by a large garbage compactor Roath stepped forward.

He stopped and glanced at Oz and Ess, then turned back to Paul with an eyebrow raised.

"The summoning of the demon is irrevocable. You are its master, from the moment you summoned it to the end of days. You cannot send it back. That rescinding invocation in the book is worthless. Why is that so difficult to understand?"

"Lord Roath, I am Dawkins, grand wizard of the order of Roke, and I commanded you here!" Oz's voice resounded across the yard, as though he were giving a speech to a lecture-hall full of the hard of hearing.

Roath turned and regarded Oz for a second, then returned to Paul.

"I do not wish to be summoned again, or you will know what the wrath of a demon lord can bring."

"Oi, Roath, I'm talking to you," said Oz, sounding less sonorous and more peeved.

Roath turned to Oz in annoyance.

"What?"

"Your contract between Paul and Scarth is null and void. Scarth is not a demon, he's a chimera. That invalidates the invocation."

Roath laughed.

"Invalidates it? You stupid oaf. You think you can stand against me and quote the law? The contract is good and binding. It has been tested and found true. Where do you think all the best lawyers go? There isn't a judge here or below that could find a loophole. Who do you think you are? And what, in the name of the Beast, do you think you look like?"

"I am a grand wizard, holder of the ten secrets, diviner of hidden knowledge, defender of the right and just now I am well pissed-off with you, pal!" Oz pulled the voluminous sleeves of his robe up his arms.

"What?" Roath laughed incredulously. "You think a human, even a young fit human, could stand against me? I am Lord Roath of the Inner Circle of Pain, Destroyer of Peace, Crusher of Souls." Anger replaced the amusement in his voice. "Armies cannot stand against me. I rule thirty legions of the Armies of the Dark. I have brought down empires. And you think one fat old man can threaten me with his bare hands?"

"Oh dear," said Oz, very quietly. "Old? Did I hear you say old? Oh, dear me."

"Oz, no," said Ess. "You can't take him on your own. Don't be stupid."

"Relax," said Oz, eyes fixed on Roath. "A few seconds, a minute at most, that's all it will take."

"You think you could last seconds? The arrogance of Man!" sneered Roath.

"Oz, wait. We didn't plan for ..."

"Hey, Streak!" Dumpster appeared around the corner. He was swaying as he approached, waving a beer bottle in his hand for balance. "Streak, you wanker. You all right, boy? It's me, Dumpster. What's going on, son? You having a party and not inviting your old mucker Dumpster? Here, here, who's your friend, eh? Wanna drink?"

"Oh dear God," groaned Paul. "He's drunk!"