The men were filthy, wound tight with an energy that rippled through the crowd. I could feel their agitation. Their rising excitement. Their despair. They would work their whole lives through and find little more than a meager wage, an occasional night at the street fights, and an early death. I felt a moment’s pity for them as I made my way along the outskirts of the crowd, but my sympathy quickly dissipated.

Perhaps these people would never rise above their station. Perhaps they would die young from breathing coal dust or in an accident at one of the factories in our New York town.

But they would never see their families executed by a demon like Bael.

And that, in my opinion, made them far better off than I.

The closer I came to the front of the crowd, the more the men pushed and shoved. Their shirts hung limply against their skin, sticking to their sweaty bodies as they angled for a better look at the makeshift ring in the middle of the derelict building. The first two contestants had not yet entered the patch of ground reserved for the fighters, making this the best chance I would have of spotting Bael. Once the fight began, the men would surge forward and pack even more tightly together.

I made my way to the front, looking for a place to hide and finding it in the shadows that lurked near the wall. It was too far back to see the fight properly, but perfect for surveying the room in its entirety. Stepping into the darkness, I leaned back against the crumbling wall.

I scanned the crowd, my eyes skipping over the bearded, dirty men until I spotted Bael, standing against the wall opposite mine. He stood in the shadows, much as I did, his face only half-visible through the broad shoulders and bearded faces of the mortal men. Even so, it was easy to be certain of his identity, for his skin was as smooth as a child’s, his clothes crisp and unsoiled.

I knew it for the lie it was. There was no doubt in my mind that the demon who had murdered my family lay under the guise of the handsome blond gentleman leaning against the wall. Fury rose in me like a tide, beginning at my feet and continuing until my face was hot with it.