The hooded figure bounced gently as the steed they rode trod the corridors with snorting nostrils, flanks steaming in the heat of the radiators, a clatter of hooves pulling stares and causing murmurs from the students as they passed them.

The rider’s scythe hung down, catching the light, its curving arc razor sharp, the grip tight upon it from the weight of the old farm implement.

The horse’s eyes glowed faintly, flowing mane falling in waves, high proud tail swishing behind it.

Nobody dared approach such a mysterious, shrouded person bearing a deadly weapon so openly. They could only watch, muted, from within doorways and alcoves.

Except Alexis.

Upon spying the bridled horse, he stepped out from within the classroom he had been lurking in and blocked the way, his wings outstretched, his claws ready.

“Nice pony, Warlock! I see you finally got back from the outer circle of Hell; did you have fun? Where’s your two lackeys? On your own? Yeah, I heard you’d been riding around the college looking like a right ninny. Got nothing to say for yourself? Think you’re big and hard with your antique lawn mower? Ha!”

Curious faces gathered from the activities they’d been preoccupied with; a good fight was always quality entertainment!

Crowley yanked at the long, leather rein and the horse snarled, baring teeth, tossing its head in warning. The rider lifted the scythe up and the hood tilted, questioning the human’s actions.

“You forget, Warlock, I’ve got your amulet! Come on down and let’s see how tough you are without it and the lizards!”

The rider hissed.

The faces at the corners and doorways creeped forwards, waiting for some action.

Crowley grasped the bottom of the rider’s black robe and pulled, roughly, unseating the silent scythe-wielder with a clatter as they hit the floor.

With a growl and a snarl and the unfurling of iridescent black raven’s wings, Alexis suddenly realised his terrible mistake.

This was no daft demon donkey with a prop from the dungeon.

Bony feet clicked, equally bony hands lifted the ancient blade aloft and a soft hiss from beyond the dawns of time filled the corridor.

“Aw, fuck, Crowley’s pissed off Death!” the gleeful audience laughed from the safety of their distant vantage points.

Alexis’s face twisted in a moan of self-pity at his terrible blunder, “my Lord, forgive me, I thought you were someone else!” he fell to his knees and grovelled as a cold shiver touched him, the angry Horseman bringing his scythe down in a sweep.

It glanced off the wooden floor, sending sparks.

Crowley begged and gibbered, the figure of Death standing over him, its frost-encrusted robe brushing his forehead as he apologised over and over.

An ivory knuckle sharply grabbed his red, pointy chin and forced his gaze upwards.

“No, no, no, no,” Alexis’s faint voice wobbled in fear, not wanting to stare into the face of oblivion.

I SHALL BE MAKING A COMPLAINT

“My Lord, please, no, please, it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to insult you, to pull you off your horse, please…” Frost coated his lower jaw, his skin and lips changed to pastel blue, his eyes began to roll back as the skeletal touch drained his inner warmth.

A glossy hoof stamped down with a thud, leaving a dent, sending Crowley desperately shuffling back, still whimpering as he sucked in lungfuls of warm, humid air, rubbing himself vigorously.

“What’s Death doing here?” the voice of an unseen lecturer asked, concerned, as the grim reaper carefully climbed back on his ride, taking the reins. “Is someone actually dying?”

I AM EVERYWHERE

“Well yeah, I get that, but like, we don’t usually see you. Is this a Hallowe’en visit?”

I AM A CELEBRITY, YOU KNOW. AND THE PUNCH IS RATHER GOOD

“Are the other horsemen around?”

There were uncomfortable shuffles, nobody wanted to turn a corner and see pestilence.

ALWAYS

“I should have expected that.”

The hooded Horseman fixed his cold gaze upon Crowley as he passed by, leaving the young, shivering student with no doubts that he would be in for a massive bollocking over his rough handling of an Apocalyptic Harbinger.

There was a deep, rhythmic thudding from the staircase below, and the thunderous sound of more hooves approached, followed by whooping and laughing.

Whinnies and snorts approached from the other end of the corridor, and Death paused, watching as another black horse cantered close, its rider dressed in a long, black robe, a rusted, notched scythe swinging as the grey mammal within pulled his beast up with a cry of ‘whoa!’

“Snap!” Anar shouted with a grin, “nice costume, dude! Looking pretty fly! Nice horse!”

THANK YOU

Two green lizards peered round the unbridled horse’s back end. One was dressed in a multicolour patchwork cloak with a large, pointy witch hat on their head, the floppy brim sliding down to cover their eyes.

The other was, seemingly, naked.

“Copycat!” Rave yelled, shaking his fist. “It was our idea first!”

I DOUBT THAT

“Be nice, it’s Hallowe’en, you can have more than one Grim Reaper, you know. How many hidden things we got left to find?”

The elven succubus sat behind the grey rider pulled out a piece of paper and consulted it. “Four. But we gotta stop now. It’s almost time.”

Anar watched the other horse and rider fade away with a shimmer, ahead of them.

“Damn.”

It had been wicked, galloping around the hall and classrooms, swinging his scythe and sending everyone scattering before them. Teachers had fed apples to Destroyer. They’d had a great round of pumpkin showjumping in the gardens, watched in delight by the werewolves. The other succubi had patted the big black nightmare on his strong neck and told him what a Good Boy he was, while Meredith beamed, her arms tight around Anar’s waist, clean dress sparkling with black stars, dainty silver, strappy heels bright in the candlelight. Occasionally Anar had dipped his covered head and she’d pulled at the fabric and given him sweet, hidden, illicit kisses. Rap had begrudgingly accepted her presence within the crew.

Now, however, was the hour of the offerings.

This wasn’t only for the student demons, no, offerings to the Dark lord, Satan himself, biggest and baddest and unholiest of all creatures to have fallen from grace, were a requirement of everyone within the building and beyond. Secret meetings across the globe would be piling up treasures and trinkets, gold and jewels, magically-infused relics and cursed artefacts to be added to the stockpile of filth and wealth that the Great Horned One coveted.

Alexis crept away, slinking low, hardly containing his excitement at finally being able to show his dedication to the King of the Pit. He would be in sore need of some retribution if word got out of his shameful actions only minutes ago. And word WOULD get out. Gossip spread like Hellfire in this place. Death himself told him that a complaint would be made, and the reaper did not need to be told your name; he knew every living organism within the world, the universe itself, even; the Horsemen were guardians of reality – figures who used corporeal form only for official duties – they were as old as time itself, eternal and everlasting. The paperwork of the cosmos was signed off by them. Nothing lived or died without their say so. You didn’t pull one down off their horse without repercussions…

A classroom was not big enough for a ceremony such as this; the Satanic Temple was instead packed to the rafters with all manner of critters and abominations.

The dark priests, chanting their Latin, walked down the centre aisle, swinging metallic orbs of burning incense, heady fragrances of forbidden spices and fragments of elements too foul to name, their crimson robes displaying the macabre nature of their worship – blood and sacrifice and rituals steeped in suffering.

A ring of fire lay upon the elaborate altar. The flickering, burning wheel ablaze as thick smoke plumed to the high, arched ceiling.

Anar, Destroyer, Meredith, Rap and Rave all hung away at the back of the swaying throng, trying to pretend they were really getting into it, but only for show.

“What show is this?” Destroyer asked, thinking it was a pantomime of sorts. “Who’s the bad guy?”

“Shhh! They’re all bad guys, Des!”

“Mmmmm. It’s Julius Caesar, is it?”

“This isn’t Shakespeare! Now shush!”

“ET TU, BRUTÉ!”

“Pack it in!”

“VENI VIDI VICI!”

Heads turned to look at the talking horse, and Anar shrunk back in embarrassment.

The head priest slowly walked in from the rafters, holding a black book aloft.

“He’s behind you!”

“Des, I swear, I’m gonna turn you into a Pritt-Stick!” Anar hissed while the dinosaurs laughed.

The High Priest’s low voice rumbled, reading ominously from the ancient tome.

A reply murmured through the gathering.

“We don’t have the words!” Rave said. “What’s he saying?”

“It starts with Dearly Beloved, I think…” Rap mused.

“It’s not a wedding!”

“That’s a shame, I wanted to throw confetti. Should I go get the salt?”

“No, Rap, I think throwing salt on a crowd of demonic and Underworld entities would not go down well!”

Rave nodded, sagely, “they’re like slugs. They shrivel up.”

“That’s… actually a good way of putting it, Rave. OK, so this guy with the book is the top Satanic Priest, he’s gonna open the offering portal, within the fire circle, and whatever we drop in there will be added to Lucifer’s pile of stuff Downstairs. You get to do a bit of a speech and all that to impress the teachers for more marks, if you want to. Alexis is gonna drone on, like he did in class, you just know it.”

“He never shuts up. Even when you’re thumping him, he’s mouthing off,” Rap sniffed. He looked around at the back of the packed church, “I’m still waiting for our security pals to turn up. I hope they haven’t forgot.”

“What are you offering up, hot stuff?” Meredith asked.

Anar had put his hood down and regretted it as he coloured, “it’s the knife that I got stabbed with,” he mumbled.

Plump, maroon lips opened in a gasp, “but surely, you need to keep it as proof of what happened to you? teachers can’t go around hurting students like that!”

Anar’s ears flattened, “it’s for the best, Mere. You’re just going to have to believe me, yeah?”

She shook her head, glossy curls glistening, “you’re really strange, you know that? Flying, talking horse, buddy dinosaurs, crazy magic and a soul I couldn’t pierce if I tried.”

Anar looked apologetic. “Strange things happen to me.”

“Don’t they just!”

People began moving. Flashes of flame flickered as items were given up in the name of the Dark Lord’s glory. Voices spoke. Low mumbles followed. Some nodding and clapping. Staff were involved, too, the lioness Miss Hinkling, Hr. Hogden the boar, even Madam Shay was here, furtively looking around with an untrusting glare, seemingly unaware that the item she was sorely missing was going to be incinerated in a few minutes.

The large wings of Crowley spread out from his position within the crowd and he was given space to move forward, to approach the burning dais. His annoying whiny voice carried across the vast space, his little speech telling of his family’s many sacrifices in their unwavering loyalty to Lucifer, in aiding his rule of the underworld and performing evil deeds in this one.

He held his item out, ready to drop.

Then the great iron-clad doors swung open.

“Stop right there!”

The yellow high-viz jackets of Security moved through the still throng, gasps of shock rippling through.

“Alexis Crowley, you are wanted by Master leviathan, to explain your recent attack on Death himself in the second-floor corridor this afternoon, and we have reason to believe you are currently displaying an Angelic aura and we have a warrant for your search, also signed by Master Leviathan…”

Alexis was stunned. “Preposterous! I’m a prince of Hell! My aura is tarnished and un-pure!” he spluttered.

The jackals stepped up onto the marble flooring, waving their spark shooters. A loud bleeping could be heard.

The room erupted in angry objections. A descendent of the great Aleister Crowley, with a pure energy spike? What betrayal was this?

Rap clapped his hands, happily.

“I like this pantomime,” Destroyer rumbled.

“What did you do, Rap?” Anar asked, moving closer to fully enjoy what was unfolding.

A bright light filled the air, and the occult students and teachers recoiled from the assault of positive energy.

“Blessed crystals!” the jackals declared, triumphantly, holding aloft glittering rocks, “rose quartz! Charged moonstone and amethyst! Wards, protecting against evil intentions!”

Crowley’s face twisted and his fangs snarled, “no! they’re not mine!”

“In your pockets, Crowley!”

“I’m a prince of Hell!” he roared.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”

Growls of ‘for shame!’ and ‘dirty traitor!’ swept through. Eyes were on him, for all the wrong reasons, as golden threads bound to his wrist and he was led away, pulling and resisting, out of the Satanic church and out, towards the Headmaster’s office and the punishments therein.

“Boo! Hiss!” Destroyer swished his tail as the door closed. “Is this the happy ending?”

Anar took out the dragon dagger from the pocket of the robe he had stolen from laundry and gave it a spin in his palm, “yes,” he nodded, relieved, “this is the happy ending bit.”

He approached the fire, following the line in front of him, until his trainers were on polished marble and he could feel the heat from around the portal.

The smooth blade shone in the amber light, the blood-encrusted tip reminding him of everything he had been through, of all the mysteries he had yet to unlock, to all the struggles he had yet to face. He held it out over the burning ring, not sure what to say, not sure what to feel.

“I’m not ready,” he blurted, and he let it fall.

There was an anticlimactic puff of sooty, sulphur-filled smoke, but as it drifted upwards it almost seemed as though it took on a serpentine shape, spreading wings and soaring high above with a trailing tail.

He quickly shuffled away, his cheeks burning. That had been a stupid thing to say! He could have said anything; ‘this is my offering’, ‘accept my gift’, ‘sit and swivel on this, you curly-horned git’. I’m not ready… What had he even meant by that? It had seemed right, in the moment, it had been the truth, but truth of what? Rave was right, he was an idiot. An idiot who had a knack for embarrassing himself.

It was sacrifices next. He couldn’t wait to find out how this was going to unfold. At least Crowley couldn’t torment him, for now.