I remembered the flat above the club. Even with the haze of alcohol and lust blazing hot through my body, I remembered it with startling detail. It came back to me as I took it all in. The wine-colored sheets. How the hard floor felt under my feet.

Not incredibly large, but it told me more about Asmodeus than anything else ever could.

The flat lacked a kitchen, but I suppose they didn’t need to eat anyways. Bookcases packed with old books. Artwork adorning the ...