AZAZEL STRODE THROUGH the dimly lit street of the Meat Packing District with one thing on his mind. Carnal invitations from the working girls called out to him. He ignored them. Didn’t want s*x tonight anyway. The demonic energy inside wanted release of the bloody kind.
He stopped in front of a derelict building. Crumbling bricks and a rusted out door served as the unwelcome sign for humans. Inside shouts of an energetic crowd beckoned. He stepped through the door into a dark hall. Fresh spilled blood assaulted his nose, exciting the demon. Oh, yeah. He would fight tonight. At the next doorway he slipped past rubber flaps into a refrigerated room.
“Azazel!” Zarek called to him from the other side of the room. He wove his way between slabs of meat. Man, those hooks were twice the size of
