The shelves in Giles' new study, on the first floor of the mansion, were a mess. The spell he'd used to clean up after that harpy-demon had removed biological materials but nothing else. He was going to have to clean the rest of his house the old fashioned way, with plenty of elbow grease. Oh, he could have tapped into Willow's magic again but Rupert had noted her loss of energy. There was no need to set him investigating, not when it would lead straight back to Giles. Tucker, the git, had absolutely refused to clean. In retaliation, Giles had set him down with a copy of Gordimer's On the Specization of Demons. It was the definitive primer on demonology but Giles honestly didn't believe the lad was that interested. He'd planned to give Tucker something more interesting and less useful, but if the boy was going to act the git then he could deal with the consequences.

And, as if to support his supposition, Tucker shoved his chair away from the table. "This bites."

"Bites?"

"Do you think I care if the R'konian and Thrashalla demons both branched off from something called a Drokna? I wanna know what you know. I wanna know how to kill 'em, like you did with that big bird thingy." When Giles had first brought Tucker to the mansion, the boy had almost bolted and run off into the night. Giles had literally twisted the lad's arm behind his back, forcing him through the house ahead of himself as if he were using the lad for a shield. After they'd gone through the whole house, Tucker had gotten over his fear. Apparently the idiot had forgotten the demon had wings and could swoop down on them. Well, Giles had never thought the lad was all that intelligent. He'd make a better grunt than minion anyway.

"I can teach you how to fight." Fighting demons was nothing like fighting a human, but Tucker didn't need to know that and he did seem to have an underlying desire for violence. No wonder Eyghon found him appealing. "Why don't we start now?"

The physical training for a neophyte Watcher was stringent but nothing compared to that of the apprentice Enforcer. Right. Time to get the lad in shape. "Let's begin with a roundhouse kick. Notice how the thigh and hip rotate as the leg kicks forward. You try."

Pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. "Perhaps we should start with a front kick." It took Tucker a good twenty minutes to come up with an even halfway decent front kick. "Good enough. Give me one hundred kicks."

"One hundred?"

"On each leg."

The lad collapsed to the floor far short of his goal.

"Get up you lazy git."

Tucker's glare would have looked menacing coming from, well, anyone else. Giles stood over him until the lad made a wobbly rise to his feet. "Finish this session. Add twenty-five kicks. Each leg."

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no." Tucker stepped back to the table and reached for his hoodie. "You're not the boss of me."

"You're the one who wanted training." Giles' voice was quiet. Anyone other than Tucker would have noticed the menace.

"I wanted to kick ass. Not a bunch of air."

"If you won't obey, then I have no use for you. Get out."

Tucker made a sweeping bow that was somehow more sarcastic than anything he could have said, before walking out the door.

Mine. Back. Mine.

"I will not bloody bring him back. The boy's an idiot. We're better off without him."

Mine. There were no hallucinations, no long-lost friends dying before him. Giles had just enough time to think this is new before Eyghon hit him. His skin tingled. Everywhere. It was unpleasant but not unbearable. It got worse. Burning, his whole body seemed to be burning. He could barely see through the pain but his skin seemed to be untouched. Burning … Burning … "All right," he screamed. The burning stopped. "I'll get him back but it might take a while." His skin started tingling again. "I mean it! The lad's proud. He stormed off. If I go after him now, it'll just drive him off further." The tingling stopped. Thank Gods Eyghon had believed him.

Giles left the shelves, the cleaning, and the boxes full of books behind. He'd had enough for one night. If he didn't fuck someone soon, he was going to take someone's head off, possibly literally, and if he killed Tucker – and wouldn't he like to – Eyghon would most certainly make him pay. He needed a fucktoy and he needed one now. Luckily he'd heard of a club.