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Glory, both of whom had been born from the ancient demon, Bedlam. Through Vex’s influence, I was mostly left alone. I was human enough to be grateful for that.
     
So I stayed at the Den. A savvy owner would have closed it long ago and transformed it into something more profitable. But Michael Horowitz was my benefactor, the most important person I had ever won over with my demon persuasion. Michael gave me the use of the apartment upstairs and the freedom to do whatever I wanted with the bar, as long as I managed everything. It was one of a number of real estate investments he owned, while he managed many more. He wasn’t like other business people I dealt with—Michael cared about me. Aside from work, he made sure I was doing okay, and he bustled in like a doting gay daddy to fix anything I needed.
     
Most things I was able to take care of myself. I regularly had to cajole city authorities into allowing the rickety old building to remain open, and once I’d resorted to asking Vex to pay for necessary restorations to be done on the facade rather than letting the building be condemned.
     
I’d thought about asking Vex for money to buy the bar from Michael, but it would put me even more in his debt, and besides, I couldn’t reconcile myself to being a permanent blight on the community. Even with Vex’s protection, demons were drawn to my hybrid energy. But when they couldn’t get to me, they ended up preying on my neighbors instead. It was the reason for the high crime rate in the area. Gentrification had moved in from every direction, but within the radius of a few blocks, my territory still contained too many closed and empty shops. Thanks to me, it was one of the last pits of decrepitude in Manhattan.
     
After the bar closed in the wee hours, I usually spent the rest of the night inside my apartment. If the other demons knew I rarely went out, then there was no reason to hang around.
     
That was the price I paid for living the illusion of being human. I could give up the act and stop endangering the people I lived among; I could leave my friends and the bar, and isolate myself, just as I had given up my family for their own good. I could become a wanderer so nobody would suffer because of me.
     
But what sort of life was that? I wasn’t that big a person. I needed my home and my people. So I sacrificed my demon-self instead. At least, I tried to. I avoided demons, except for Shock.
     
This included avoiding Savor when I could. He was looking up into the long mirror hanging over the bar, watching me with an amused expression. I usually didn’t have to talk to him to do my job; he deposited the envelopes of dirty money through the mail slot into the foyer of my apartment.
     
But Savor seemed to take a perverse joy in forcing me to treat him like an ordinary patron.
     
I went behind the bar and pulled down the crystal bottle filled with an emerald liqueur. I found a large brandy snifter and filled it almost a third of the way. “Sebastian, you aren’t drinking. I know how much you love this.”
     
“Sorry, I don’t have any money.” He patted his pockets blandly. “I’ll have to pass.”
     
“I insist. It’s on the house. For bringing Lo chocolate.”
     
Next to him, old Jose muttered something about bringing candy for booze next time. Savor stalled; he didn’t want the drink. It burned energy for demons to process food or liquids, and was a real drain on the system. “That’s not the glass it’s supposed to be served in. You’re ruining the bouquet,” he protested.
     
I picked up the snifter and poured the contents into several shot glasses, filling them to the brim. “How’s that, Mr. Silver-spoon-up-his-ass?”
     
Savor grinned and passed two of the shot glasses to the guys. Old Jose knocked it back in one swig, then grimaced at the sticky-thick consistency. Savor sipped his. “Hmmm . . . lovely. Is this a celebration in honor of the recent birth?”
     
Thankfully Lolita was in the