WITH THE SHOUTS OF the crowd still ringing in his ears, Azazel shifted back into regular form. Naked and covered in blood, his body thrummed with exhilaration. The head of his enemy lay on the other side of the octagon-shaped cage. Someone shoved pants into his hands. Zarek.
“Man, what a show! You killed that demon. And that was before the beheading. Good job!”
Zarek’s enthusiasm was contagious and Azazel allowed himself a small smile. The fight worked. For twelve minutes and thirty-nine seconds he felt nothing, no fear, no doubt and, to his great relief, no love. He collected his winnings from the bookie at the door and shoved past the group of salivating succubus groupies who always gathered around the winner. They made him sick.
“We’re not bypassing the ladies, are we? A succubus or
