text: [Themes: love & dating]
  
  He wears a tattered cloak, and even at night you can see how pale and gaunt his face is. It is Peter.
  
  "What are you doing here?" you ask.
  
  He stops, trying to catch his breath. "I arrived from London this evening and woke when I heard the explosions and screams. Half of Covingsford must be awake by now too, though I don't blame them for staying in their beds. What on Earth has happened?"
  
  You look at your friend. He has a little silver knife, the kind you might use for practice in Dr. Young's class. You find you cannot lie. "Daemons are attacking the College, daemons I summoned." You see the shock on his face and continue. "I do not have time to explain everything, but the daemonologists are evil, more evil than the spirits they fight. They killed my mother, Peter, murdered her because she was an angel, and I won't let them escape justice."
  
  He runs a hand through his hair. "Who killed your mother?" When you admit you don't know, he takes a step towards you. "I believe you, but this cannot be the best way to have justice. From the sound of it, the daemons are killing every professor here and a fair number of students too. Most of them probably had no part in your mother's death."
  
  "They protected whoever did kill her. They broke bread with a murderer, and they're all guilty of a dozen crimes besides. Do you think everyone killed in America is a true rebel, Peter? No, but when you live and work with criminals, you have no cause for complaint if you get caught up in their punishment."
  
  "Then this is vengeance and no justice."
  
  You laugh. "You may call it what you will. It does not concern you, however, and I have no wish to see you dead. Go back to your bed. Go back to London and your Lizzy, and I swear no daemon will follow."
  
  "It's her, isn't it? Your succubus. You must listen to me, as your friend- she cannot be trusted. For God's sake, she's a daemon!"
  
  You throw the punch before Peter finishes the word. He stumbles back to his feet after a second, nose smashed. "Go," you say, turning around. You only make a few steps before he finishes a spell. A jolt of electricity arcs from his fingers into your back, and you swear. It seems you are not the only one who practiced advanced magic in secret, though you can tell your friend is no match for you.
  
  "I do not want you dead!" you shout, but Peter has already released a second spell, this one a jet of green flame. "Stop!"
  
  "I will not," he grunts, and sends yet another jolt of electricity. You knock it away with a word, and he frowns. He must know that this fight is hopeless. You mutter another incantation and he is forced to the ground. He rises unsteadily and, seemingly empty of magical power, resorts to throwing a rock. "You'll have to kill me," he cries, his sallow face alive with determination and a hint of fear. His eyes have the familiar metallic glint. "Or bring your daemon bitch to do it for you."
  
  Now you are truly angry, and it does not help when Peter throws his knife and nicks your arm. You can feel your aura growing, and twenty or more curses spring into your head. You could boil him with the water vapor in the night sky above or tear him down the middle without a second thought, you're sure of it, and none of his brilliance will save him.
  
  "You're her slave," he yells. "I'm your best friend, and you're going to kill me for her. You'd best get it over with, I wouldn't want her to get impatient with you."
  
  > spare him
  "You're her slave." The words don't make a difference at first, but something about them stops you from blasting Peter away. Bullock thought you were a daemon's slave, and your other professors all warned against daemonic manipulation. You remember how Seria sent you dreams, how she came and gave you slow drops of knowledge, always mixed with sensual pleasure. You look down at your friend, your brilliant, stubborn friend, his hand scrabbling in the dirt for another rock. If he says something, you should listen.
  
  "I'm not possessed," you say slowly.
  
  Peter nods. "Certainly not. But you can be a slave in effect if not by nature. Remember Aristotle's distinction between substance and accidents?"
  
  The reference is so absurd that you laugh, and more than anything that makes you certain that you will not kill him. How could you have even thought of doing so? He is your friend, and he is only trying to keep you from killing a great many innocent people. He laughs too, and you release him from your spell with a wave of your hand. "Tell me everything," he says, and you do, horrible as it is.
  
  Your stomach drops as you describe what you have done. Your own father is dead at your hand, as are Coghill and the other professor. Faber, Young, and God knows how many others are dead because of you, and the daemons are still rampaging through the College grounds. Perhaps they have even overcome Dr. Fogg by now. Maybe one of them killed your mother, or maybe not, but Peter is right. This is not justice, it is only butchery.
  
  You find it hardest to talk about Seria. You cannot hate her like you now hate the other daemons you summoned, no matter what she has done. You touch the mark on your cheek and remember her words. You are hers, and she is yours. It is sheer madness, but perhaps you can stop her, convince her to leave everyone else alive.
  
  "I need to go. Perhaps I can stop them," you say.
  
  "Not by yourself," Peter adds. You want disagree but know there's nothing short of death that could dissuade him, and you've already ruled that out. You set out for the main battle, hoping that it isn't too late. Peter limps a little, which you solve with a simple healing prayer, and together you make your way through the moonlit paths of Covingsford College.
  
  > The battle is fierce
  And it rages in the heart of campus, the great open field in front of the library. There are bodies strewn everywhere, many more than the number of professors. It seems that the students, or at least a good number of them, joined in the defense of the College. Dr. Thewliss and five or so students are clustered in one corner, Dr. Hopkins and two are in another, and in the center of it all, Chancellor Fogg stands alone.
  
  Each battles several daemons, though you see that their ranks have thinned, too. The minotaur Lignor and a few others face Thewliss' band while viper-headed Jarobaal and Yfrigge, still wearing the guise of a young girl, fight with Dr. Hopkins. The Chancellor has the most enemies- Anumun the raksha, four daemons you don't recognize, and Seria, her flaming eyes visible even from far away. Chanting in many languages mixes with howls and shouts of pains, while knives and bundles of herbs fly in all directions.
  
  Hopkins is closest, and you run to relieve him first. Peter shoots another green flame, which distracts Jarobaal enough to let the professor deal him a mortal blow with a saber. You would never have imagined the stooped man would be so quick on his feet, but he wastes no time exulting in the victory. Even alone, Yfrigge is dangerous. When she sees you she frowns. "Twice traitor."
  
  Seemingly without effort, she knocks all her other enemies back and begins walking towards you. Hopkins is the first to recover, and he starts to chant, but her defenses must be very strong. You add your power to his, and all the while she is coming closer and closer. You back up, still chanting, but she shows no sign of weakening. You can see a vein on Hopkins' neck- it looks ready to burst. Fumbling in your pockets, you look for something, anything that you could thrown, but there is nothing. She is three yards away, one yard, one foot.
  
  Suddenly one of the other students launches himself at her, and they go tumbling together into the grass. He has nothing but a rock, but he makes good use of it, bashing her skull open and flattening it for good measure. Yfrigge screams long after a human being would have died, but the rock and you and Hopkins' chanting is enough to defeat her. You watch as her body sinks into the ground. A little essence oozes out and gets carried off the by the wind. Yfrigge's assailent clambers up off the ground. It is John Keating, scraped and glowering but very much alive. "Kind of you to join us," he grunts.
  
  The rest of the battle still rages. Dr. Thewliss now fights with only two students at his side against the minotaur, whose enormous axe cannot quite catch the tiny man, though he is not nearly as quick as he was before. Chancellor Fogg has defeated one of the daemons, but Anumun, Seria, and three others still press him close, and you can tell the old titan is faltering.
  
  Hopkins, Peter, and the others run to aid Dr. Thewliss while you head for Fogg. His long beard is smoldering, though you can't tell if it's from a daemon's attack or the sheer power he's wielding. Seria sees you coming and smiles, those dark lips so beautiful beneath the moon. It nearly makes you change sides again, but you are stronger now. You mouth a spell, one you encountered scribbled in the margin of an old Greek translation of an Egyptian manuscript, and one of the other daemons yelps. His scaly wings begin to convulse, covered in what looks like a moving blanket, and soon the pain reaches the rest of his body. The other daemons stop a moment to watch the thousand scarab beetles devour him, which gives Dr. Fogg the chance to strike one down with a sudden, blazing light.
  
  You hear a cry. The minotaur finally caught Thewliss, his body split in half by the huge blade. The others circle him, wary of being next, but Lignor just bellows and keeps swinging.
  
  Seria stalks towards you, every motion seductive and terrifying. If she was frightening before you fell in love, that is nothing compared to the fear you feel now. Her eyes are no longer like fire. They are dark and beautiful. Her chest heaves, and you realize she is crying. "You betrayed me."
  
  > Speak
  Seria is strong, perhaps stronger than you even at the best of times and certainly after everything that's happened. With a bitter laugh you realize she was wrong- your mother's blood never awakened, not after any of the stresses of this night. If it had you might have a chance in combat, but as it is you will have to hope her love for you is real.
  
  "I am yours," you whisper, trying to block out the noise and excitement of the battle which swirls around you. She keeps walking towards you, and you stand your ground. You study her features, the face that haunted your dreams and then became real. The lovely eyes and lips, her flawless skin and hair. Even now, with the corpses of your professors and fellow students littering the ground, you cannot believe she is pure evil. A bit from Saint Augustine floats into your mind, something about how evil has no positive nature. It is only a vacuum, emptiness without light or love. Looking into Seria's eyes, you hope against all reason that there is something there.
  
  She stops about a foot away, though the space feels like miles. "You are mine," she says at last. "How could you forget that?" There is a moment's pause and then she is in your arms, her tears falling like rain and burning your skin. It is all too much. The pain, her scent, and your love. "You are mine, and I am yours."
  
  With Seria holding your face in her hands and your arms wrapped around her, you lose all awareness of the battle that surrounds you. All that matters are her tears, and you begin to cry too, knowing you have failed her. She stands with you, love holding love, while the remnants of the daemonic army are destroyed around you. She does not fight. You kiss her forehead, and she kisses your chest, and you do not notice Fogg, his beard nearly all burned away, approaching to land the final blow. She snaps your neck and gives you one last kiss, her dark lips pressed against your lifeless ones.
  
  "You are mine, and I am yours," she murmurs again, and then, still holding you close, you depart together for oblivion.