The country estate known as Warlock Court was not an empty shell. Windows were open, curtains billowing out from within its cosy depths. An old Jaguar S-Type in British racing green was parked up on the circular gravel drive.

Out in the fields were horses. Regular non-magical looking horses, neighing and trotting and doing normal horse-like things. A few humans were tidying up after them, busy in their work, dressed in jodhpurs and wearing wellies.

Rowan Aldbury had arrived, expecting the worst, but so far nothing alarming had been seen. He contemplated knocking the front door when a red Corsa came crunching down the private road and through the double wrought-iron gates squeaking to a halt.

"Ember?"

"Bloody Hell, it's my boss! What's he doing here?" Ember turned to Crispin, "stay low, I'll get out of the driver's door, he mustn't see you! He'll expect me to banish you."

Crispin was good at hiding. He graciously let the demonologist clamber across his lap and as she exited the vehicle he slid away sneakily, hazing his physical outline to blend in next to the ancient stone wall that wrapped around the property.

The rumbling sound of another approaching car made her heart sink. Aleister's lackeys were fast closing in.

"Sir! What are YOU doing here?" she asked, opening up the boot and pulling out a massive bag of salt, tearing at the plastic wrapping.

"Me? I'm making sure the Warlock's are gone! I thought you were going to Sainsbury's? What are you doing with that bag? It's not icy out..."

She poured it out in a thick line between the gates, piling it up, struggling with the weight and bulk of the salty road grit. "Those demons you were complaining about, they followed me," she explained, "I took the road off the highway and saw this place. Thought it was good for a stand-off." She hoped that sounded convincing. It was mostly true.

A black BMW loomed.

"A stand-off, you say?"

"Yes, sir," Ember panted, loading up a curious firearm from within her car's storage area. "A Prince of Hell has sent these ones after me. This isn't going to be like my usual work tasks." She gritted her teeth, carefully pouring holy water into hollow cartridges.

A squeal of brakes pierced her elven ears and she almost dropped the bottle. The demons had driven as far as they could go. They were at the salt barrier.

"I am not trained in the banishment of demons," Rowan stated with a straightening of his old shoulders, "but I will help you as much as I can. I apologise for my snippiness earlier. I thought you were shirking your duties."

She closed the car boot, turning to the BMW and the horrors that were clambering out of it, raising her weapon.

They reacted quickly, channelling a funnel of darkness that spread out around the sorcerers; thick and toxic, rumbling thunder and electrical energy building within. It smothered them. They coughed.

Rowan swung his staff, pushing it back, keeping his and Ember's lungs free of filth.

She sent out a bolt of magic towards the obscured targets but the darkness absorbed it. "I need light!"

"Say no more," Rowan spread his arms wide to split the dark cloud that had descended. The thunder clapped louder. As soon as a gap was created it closed. He tried again. No luck.

A line of blue-tinged fire blazed towards them, flames licking and sparks spitting as though it were hungry for mortal flesh. Rowan conjured a spout of water to extinguish it, spilling over the gravel in a graceful arc.

Buzzing filled the noxious air. The darkness was filled with a million flittering wings. A swarm of insects bit and stung at their hands and faces in an attempt to make them drop their weapons and render themselves defenceless. They spun and lashed out at the tiny legion, still trying to keep the bad air at bay.

Then the ground began to tremble beneath them. They staggered and faltered for a moment before carefully levitating above the shuddering decorative gravel stones.

From his hiding place, Crispin watched all this and bit his long talons nervously. He was a wimp. He'd always been a wimp. He wasn't like his aardvark friend - he couldn't turn on his own kind. Four strong demons would absolutely trounce him. He'd be a smear on the wall.

But he liked Ember. A lot. Even if she was a demonologist. Anyone that Anar trusted must be someone worth knowing. Worth saving.

Rowan he wasn't so bothered about. Apparently he'd killed his best friend. He said so in call.

What could he do? He watched wretchedly as the air was turned into a poisonous dark cloud. Huddled helplessly as fire was aimed at Ember and her boss and a plague of locusts descended upon them and now they had created an earthquake.

Taking down demons was notoriously difficult. The only person he'd ever seen do it was Anar. Back in the Underworld's pool hall, only a week ago. He'd seen raw, wild magic unleashed. The kind of power that was deemed impossible to wield in Hell. Anar had been furious. Ruthless.

Brave.

His dead heart hammered. Sweat sprung on his reddish brow. There must be something he could do. Something indirect as he knew his own weakness of character prevented him from taking direct action.

He replayed recent events in his mind. His gut tangled up. He had an idea. It was crazy. Completely ludicrous. But if he failed, at least no-one would know he had even tried...

"This is relentless!" Rowan complained, the gem on his staff of office glowing with every drain of its contained power.

"Demons love darkness! They thrive in it. I must get some light and quickly," Ember pleaded, wiping insects from her cheek before they could bite any more.

They floated, surrounded by thunder and gloom as the earth shook. Pushing back against the assault was all they could do, such was the intensity of the attack they faced. It gave them no time to fight back. No opportunity for her to use her wonderful holy water bullets. Then she remembered with a joyous leap of her soul - her pocket summoning circle! That would spread some light! She fumbled in her pocket, clasping it, drawing it out ready to spring it open.

The darkness was swift; in an instant her hand was engulfed and the small compact device was sent sprawling out into a flower bed.

So much for that glimmer of hope.

"Get off!" the senior mage roared as forces unseen grappled at his staff.

Ember felt scared. Demons usually didn't want to fight. Not really. They tormented and hurt until you retaliated and then they slunk away. How could she retaliate when she was fighting for her life?

Below them, the gravel drive transformed into a bubbling pool of molten lava. If they lost their concentration for a moment, it was all over.

They pushed back harder, tried to break through the darkness with renewed effort, anything to allow in light. If only she could see the demons, she could eliminate them.

Crispin flushed, hotly, feeling embarrassed at what he was about to do. He couldn't just whisper. No, that wouldn't work. He had to call, confidently. He had to summon. To bring forth a creature he wasn't even sure liked him. From a place he didn't even know the location of. He balled up his red fists and gritted his sharp teeth.

The attack was ongoing. Ember hadn't even made a scratch on these bastards.

It was now or never.

His voice cracked as he shouted to empty air.

"Guen!"

There was a horrible silence. He fell to his knees and wished all this would just go away. Why did he have to be such a wretched failure?

Something warm brushed past him and he raised his horned head to see a beautiful star-studded astral cat bound away with a terrible hiss, claws outstretched, leaping towards the hideous horrors who were casting their dark magic out across the courtyard.

With a growl and a swipe, Guen sunk his teeth into warty flesh and bowled them over, scattering their magic. For a moment, everything cleared and the cat paused, flicking his tail as he looked at Crispin with bright feline eyes.

Gunshots echoed.

Screaming and writhing, the Underworld denizens clutched their bullet wounds as holy water seeped into their rotten flesh. Their bodies began to melt disgustingly as they sunk down into the ground, returning to a depths no mortal could tread.

He had done it.

He had summoned Anar's cat.

Guen had come to him.

"Thank you," he mouthed as the magical animal vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.

"We did it," Rowan cheered, "we did it! Well done, Ember. I never doubted you for a moment."

She gave him a side-eye look. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she wasn't about to question it. "Yes, sir, we did. The demons are gone and I don't think they will be back."

Gravel crunched beneath their shoes. The workers in the fields carried on as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The air was fresh and filled with the faint fragrance of blooms.

"Well now, time to do what I actually came here to do," he sighed, pulling out his magi-meter. It beeped, quietly, lights flashing as it scanned for illegal magic. He watched it intently, almost holding his breath.

Faint residual signals came back, from the demons and from themselves. Nothing more. There were no Warlocks here. No natural magic on the scale he had witnessed before. The aardvark mage had once lit up his instruments like a beacon. Not now. He had succeeded in banishing them from this realm entirely. Tonight, he would rest easy in the satisfaction of a job well done. After all, as Ember had said, there must be other aardvarks around, right? They couldn't all be powerful menaces. He mustn't be so quick to doubt in his own abilities!

He exhaled, slowly, putting away his device. "So, that's that,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. "I must be getting back. You enjoy the rest of your day, Ember. Take the afternoon off, ok?"

The half-elf carefully placed back her anti-demon gun into its case and closed her car’s boot, firmly. "Will do, sir," she nodded, brushing back her curls.

Crispin watched the Senior Mage leave in a shower of sparks and immediately rushed over to the demonologist, excitedly. "Did you see that?" he shrilled, "I did a thing!"

Ember leaned on the Corsa, fatigued but glad, "well done," she congratulated, "what exactly did you do? We saw the demons fall back, Rowan believes it was thanks to our efforts, and I shot them."

Crispin hopped from foot to foot, punching the air, "I called Guen! I remembered seeing him get the demons last week back when Anar and I were attacked while playing pool."

"Guen? I saw him take down a rogue demon when I was sitting my demonologist exam a couple years back! Anar called him, then, too. He's amazing isn't he?"

"Yes! I almost didn't think he would come for me. I'm not his owner. It just seemed like... something Anar would do, and I... I really want to be like Anar, you know?"

He was blushing.

Ember stepped closer. "I do know. You're braver than you give yourself credit for, Crisp. Guen wouldn't allow himself to be summoned by just anyone, he's a cat, they are very choosy!" She paused. "You're a rubbish demon," she teased.

"I know."

"I really like that about you." She leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "I'm not impressed by a trust fund, but I am impressed by being saved. Thank you."

His eyes lit up. He smiled a genuine smile.

She cupped his sharp chin, “you're pretty when you smile."

He moaned and covered his face, "nyawwww, now I'm all embarrassed!"

At the front of the grand house, a door opened.

They froze. Who would it be? Could it really be the person they had been hoping to see, after all they had gone through?

The unmistakable shape of a long, grey, aardvark head appeared, covered in a brown flat cap. The man was dressed in a green woollen jumper and a pair of tweed trousers with a pair of lace-up boots on his feet. In his hand was a long wooden walking cane.

He looked angry. He sounded angry.

"I will not tolerate demons on my property!" he growled. "Be gone, before I call the relevant authorities!"

They looked at each other.

"That must be Mortimer," Crispin hissed. "He's pissed. You take it from here," and he nudged her forward with a nod.